women as at present, but there were many more seedy literary men,
because in those days the great doors of journalism were neither so wide
nor so wide open as they are now. Every one, I remember, wanted to write
a series of articles. Each in turn proposed a series as if it was a new
and striking idea. A certain airy, rollicking, red-nosed person, who had
once walked the hospitals, proposed, I remember, to 'catch science on
the Wing--on the Wing, sir'--in a series of articles; a heavy,
conscientious person, also red-nosed, proposed, in a series of articles,
to set the world right in Economics; an irresponsible, fluttering,
elderly gentleman, with a white waistcoat and a red nose, thought that a
series of articles on--say the Vestries of our Native Land, would prove
enormously popular; if not the Vestries, then the Question of Education,
or of Emigration, or--or--something else. The main point with all was
not the subject, but the series. As it happened, nobody ever was allowed
to contribute a series at all. Then there were the people who sent up
articles, and especially the poor ladies who were on the point of
starving. Would the editor only--only take their article? Heavens! what
has become of all these ladies? It was twenty-four years ago; these
particular ladies must have perished long since; but there are more--and
more--and more--still starving, as every editor knows full well.

[Illustration: MR. BESANT'S STUDY]

Sometimes, sitting in that sanctum, I looked through their MSS. for
them. Sometimes the writers called in person, and the editor had to see
them, and if they were women, they went away crying, though he was
always as kind as possible. Poor things! Yet what could one do? Their
stuff was too--too terrible.

Another word as to the contributions. In most cases a glance at the
first page was sufficient. The MS. was self-condemned. 'Oh!' says the
contributor; 'if the editor would only tell me what is wrong, I would
alter it.' Dear contributor, no editor has time for teaching. You must
send him the paper complete, finished, and ready for press; else it
either goes back or lies on the shelf. When Rice handed over the paper
to his successor, there were piles of MSS. lying on all the shelves.
Where are those MSS. now? To be sure, I do not believe there was one
among them all worth having.

Rice wrote a novel by himself, for his own paper. It was a work which he
did not reproduce, because there were certain chapt