Life — April 21, 1898 — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

* LIFE: Now, it is always pleasant to be praisc and almost always profitable to be ceu- sured; but if the toiling author answered every friendly missive, he would have seant time for his own legitimate labors. Moreover, the man or woman who has 347 to be asked by the unsolicited corre- spondent, who is equally curious to know your age, your religion, your opinion of football and extension lectures, what books you read and what hours you work. “Please tell me of yourself,” is the modest demand of an unknown but en- terprising letter-writer; ‘of your life, your surroundings, your mode of work, your recreations, your beliefs concerning the march of civilization, any literary in- terpretation of your thoughts which may have escaped the public ey “Is there nothing more you would like to have, mine honest friend?” asks the author, with Sancho Panza, It seems genuine pity to leave anything unasked, anything unanswered, in these days of gratuitous publicity. been driving a pen for hours, with a view to daily food and raiment, does not re- gard itasa pleasant recreation to hunt up literary authorities for people who are too inert to do it for themselves. Neither does the aver: author feel strongly moved to unfold his experiences to the correspondent who wishes to know—for the good of humanity, of course—whether he finds alcoholic stimulant a help in bis literary work. There are limits to even an author's confidences, But nothing is too private or too trivial Agnes Repplier. her your opinions on the subject, is followed imme- diately by a second young woman who bas a paper to prepare on Mr. Hall Caine’s “Christian,” and would be pleased to know just what you think of that epoch-making book, which strikes her as ** grand moral protest,” though she is not quite sure that it is “decorous in every part;” while a third young woman is called upon by a third club to dis- “Current Literature’—a large order—and seeks the benefit of your “ wide reading” to help her with the task, None of these young women seem to consider they are asking ‘a great deal, or that you can have any sweeter occupation than to provide their respective clubs with the literary nutriment they crave. ‘Then there are the people who, anxious to be help- ful in their turn, write and offer you suggestions fe future work. They have read with pleasure your essay on Froissart; won't you please write one on Mr. Anthony Hope? They are delighted with your remarks anent Charles Lamb, and trust you will soon give them an exhaustive treatise upon Ralph Waldo Emerson, Or perhaps they are not satisfied with your literary methods, and have no false delicac: “f have never hada y's schooling in nar in my life, robustly candid critic, “and consequently judge, but some of your sentences don't sound riyht. A more courteous censor feels “the h respect for your great talents,” but regrets that in this particular instance you have “failed to inform yourself with your customary exactitude.” A third correspondent implores you not to spoil his pleasure in your work by spelling humor without the second “u;" and a fourth is desolated because your books are so stiffly bound that when he lays one down ‘to think over the beauty and grace of your expressions,” it closes up of its own accord in what he denominates ‘a disdainfully exclusive manner,” As it chances, you don’t bind your books yourse! don't even spell them according to your own taste aud fancy; but these are side issues never taken into account by private and personal critics, SABE cuss aying so, ys one am 1 est possible THE CURSE OF THE DAY OF REST. New Missionary: 80 YoU KNOW NOT WHAT SUNDAY I8t AT LAST THERE ARE NO SUNDAY PAPERS! PRAISES! PRAISES comicbooks.com