ments, but was expressed by one or other of the critics with whom the metropolis abounds.

Regarding it as the more dignified course not to make any inquiries at the publisher's as to what reception, in the way of sale, his poem was meeting with, until after it had been some time before the public, Joseph resolved not to call on the former until the expiration of the six weeks, the term for which he had obtained the loan of the ten pounds. Even then he would have made no inquiries as to the sale of "The Universe," had it not been that he prided himself on his punctuality, and on his faithful fulfilment of any promise he had made. He felt that his countryman in Scotland, who had

generously advanced him the ten pounds, at a time of great emergency, had the best right to expect a moiety of the first profits of the work. In six weeks he accordingly called on Mr. Figure to inquire how matters stood; having, by this time, fully decided, in his own mind, as to the best way of disposing of the proceeds of the sale,

after he should have remitted his friend's ten

pounds. Mr. Figure was all civility to Mr. Jenkins. "And how is 'The Universe' doing?" inquired the poet. "It has been extensively reviewed, and in several journals in most gratifying terms," he added.

"I'll show you presently," answered Mr. Figure, advancing to his desk, and snatching up his ledger.

"Oh, don't trouble yourself to refer to your book; I only want a rough guess," said Mr. Jenkins.

"Why, it will, perhaps, be more satisfactory to see the exact position of matters," pursued the bibliopole.

"It is wholly unnecessary," said the poet; "it will be quite sufficient if you just name the amount of the proceeds."

"Oh, you had better see the exact position of affairs. Here, sir," placing the book before Mr. Jenkins-"here, sir, is the precise state of mat

ters."

Mr. Jenkins eagerly glanced his eye at the folio to which the bibliopole directed his atten

tion, and read as follows:

Francis Figure,

Dr. to Mr. Joseph Jenkins.

To three copies of "The Universe" (trade

The blood rushed to Mr. Jenkins' face; his eyes were seized with partial blindness; a sudden dizziness overtook him, and it was with difficulty he could retain his equilibrium. When he had slightly recovered his self-possession, he said, "Mr. Figure."

66 Sir."

Surely there must be some mistake here." "No mistake, Mr. Jenkins."

"You don't mean to say that these are all the copies of The Universe' you have sold."

"I do, sir."

"It's impossible."

"It's true," remarked Mr. Figure, with im

perturbable coolness.

Mr. Jenkins inwardly groaned.

"Shall I pay you the nineteen and fourpence farthing just now?" said Mr. Figure.

"Mr. Figure, do you mean to insult me, sir?" answered Mr. Jenkins, with considerable indignation.

"Not at all; by no means; only a business question, sir," remarked the bibliopole, with the most perfect nonchalance.

"We can settle at some other time. You don't mean to say, Mr. Figure, that three copies are all that will sell?" observed the poet.

"That is a point on which it is impossible to give an opinion," said the publisher.

"Do works ever sell after they have been some time published, and proved a failure?"

66

Oh, yes," answered Mr. Figure; "Milton's 'Paradise Lost,' you know, is a case in point."

Mr. Jenkins groaned an assent to the accuracy of the statement.

"What can be the cause of so decided a

failure?" pursued the poet.

"Oh, it is very obvious."

46

Pray what may it be?" said Mr. Jenkins, eagerly.

"Why, sir, simply this-that your poem is too good: you are a century in advance of the age."

Mr. Jenkins drew his hand across his chin, and delivered himself of a " Hem!" He felt that this was praise, certainly; but, then, what was praise without pudding? He could not live on his publisher's praise.

"Your poem, sir," resumed the bibliopole, " will be admired by posterity; it will call forth unqualified

"But, Mr. Figure," interrupted Mr. Jenkins, never questioning the soundness of the bibliopole's judgment, nor doubting the truth of his predictions-"but, Mr. Figure, what am I to do in the meantime? I cannot subsist on the admiration of posterity; I cannot live on prospective praise; I must have"