mr. robinson at work.
When the first three notices of the book appeared, wild dreams of a brilliant future beset me. They were all favourable notices—too favourable; but John Bull, The Press, and Bell’s Messenger (I think they were the papers) scattered favourable notices indiscriminately at that time. Presently the Athenæum sobered me a little, but wound up with a kindly pat on the back, and the Saturday Review, then in its seventh number, drenched me with vitriolic acid, and brought me to a lower level altogether; and finally the Morning Herald blew a loud blast to my praise and glory—that last notice, I believe, having been written by my old friend Sir Edward Clarke, then a very young reviewer on the Herald staff, with no dreams of becoming Her Majesty’s Solicitor-General just then! And the “House of Elmore” actually paid its publishers’ expenses, and left a balance, and brought me in a little cheque, and thus my writing life began in sober earnest.
Told by the Colonel.
XI.
HOSKINS’S PETS.
By W. L. Alden. Illustrations by R. Jack.