prig. Then take a few
vials of tribulation and wrath, and empty these generally over the whole
ingredients of your poem: and, taking the sword of the heathen, cut into
small pieces the greater part of your minor characters. Then wound
slightly the head of the blameless prig; remove him suddenly from the
table, and keep in a cool barge for future use.

HOW TO WRITE A POEM LIKE MR. MATTHEW ARNOLD.

Take one soulfull of involuntary unbelief, which has been previously
well flavoured with self-satisfied despair. Add to this one beautiful
text of Scripture. Mix these well together; and as soon as ebullition
commences grate in finely a few regretful allusions to the New Testament
and the lake of Tiberias, one constellation of stars, half-a-dozen
allusions to the nineteenth century, one to Goethe, one to Mont Blanc,
or the Lake of Geneva; and one also, if possible, to some personal
bereavement. Flavour the whole with a mouthful of "faiths" and
"infinites," and a mixed mouthful of "passions," "finites," and
"yearnings." This class of poem is concluded usually with some question,
about which we have to observe only that it shall be impossible to
answer.

HOW TO WRITE A POEM LIKE MR. BROWNING.

Take rather a coarse view of things in general. In the midst of this,
place a man and a woman, her and her ankles, tastefully arranged on a
slice of Italy, or the country about Pornic. Cut an opening across the
breast of each, until the soul becomes visible, but be very careful that
none of the body be lost during the operation. Pour into each breast as
much as it will hold of the new strong wine of love: and, for fear they
should take cold by exposure, cover them quickly up with a quantity of
obscure classical quotations, a few familiar allusions to an unknown
period of history, and a half-destroyed fresco by an early master,
varied every now and then with a reference to the fugues or toccatas of
a quite-forgotten composer.

If the poem be still intelligible, take a pen and remove carefully all
the necessary particles.

HOW TO WRITE A MODERN PRE-RAPHAELITE POEM.

Take a packet of fine selected early English, containing no words but
such as are obsolete and unintelligible. Pour this into about double
the quantity of entirely new English, which must have never been used
before, and which you must compose yourself, fresh as it is wanted. Mix
these together thoroughly till they assume a colour quite different from
any tongue th