ium, its laws or tricks of refraction: nothing is to be left there
which might give conveyance to any matter save that." Clearly the author
who has to write so that the man may read who runs will fail if he wrests
this manner from its proper place, and uses it for casual articles: he
will fail to hold the vagrom attention!

Thus a great deal may be done by studying inappropriateness of style, by
adopting a style alien to our matter and to our audience. If we "haver"
discursively about serious, and difficult, and intricate topics, we fail;
and we fail if we write on happy, pleasant, and popular topics in an
abstruse and intent, and analytic style. We fail, too, if in style we go
outside our natural selves. "The style is the man," and the man will be
nothing, and nobody, if he tries for an incongruous manner, not naturally
his own, for example if Miss Yonge were suddenly to emulate the manner of
Lever, or if Mr. John Morley were to strive to shine in the fashion of
_Uncle Remus_, or if Mr. Rider Haggard were to be allured into imitation
by the example, so admirable in itself, of the Master of Balliol. It is
ourselves we must try to improve, our attentiveness, our interest in
life, our seriousness of purpose, and then the style will improve with
the self. Or perhaps, to be perfectly frank, we shall thus convert
ourselves into prigs, throw ourselves out of our stride, lapse into self-
consciousness, lose all that is natural, _naif_, and instinctive within
us. Verily there are many dangers, and the paths to failure are
infinite.

So much for style, of which it may generally be said that you cannot be
too obscure, unnatural, involved, vulgar, slipshod, and metaphorical. See
to it that your metaphors are mixed, though, perhaps, this attention is
hardly needed. The free use of parentheses, in which a reader gets lost,
and of unintelligible allusions, and of references to unread authors--the
_Kalevala_ and Lycophron, and the Scholiast on Apollonius Rhodius, is
invaluable to this end. So much for manner, and now for matter.

The young author generally writes because he wants to write, either for
money, from vanity, or in mere weariness of empty hours and anxiety to
astonish his relations. This is well, he who would fail cannot begin
better than by having nothing to say. The less you observe, the less you
reflect, the less you put yourself in the paths of adventure and
experience, the less you will have to say, and th