be
worth reading; I knew, even if it were, that nobody would read it; and I
kept wondering how I should be able, upon my compact income of twelve
pounds per annum, payable monthly, to meet my share in the expense. It
was a comfortable thought to me that I had a father.

The magazine appeared, in a yellow cover, which was the best part of it,
for at least it was unassuming; it ran four months in undisturbed
obscurity, and died without a gasp. The first number was edited by all
four of us with prodigious bustle; the second fell principally into the
hands of Ferrier and me; the third I edited alone; and it has long been
a solemn question who it was that edited the fourth. It would perhaps be
still more difficult to say who read it. Poor yellow sheet, that looked
so hopefully in the Livingstones' window! Poor, harmless paper, that
might have gone to print a "Shakespeare" on, and was instead so clumsily
defaced with nonsense! And, shall I say, Poor Editors? I cannot pity
myself, to whom it was all pure gain. It was no news to me, but only the
wholesome confirmation of my judgment, when the magazine struggled into
half-birth, and instantly sickened and subsided into night. I had sent a
copy to the lady with whom my heart was at that time somewhat engaged,
and who did all that in her lay to break it; and she, with some tact,
passed over the gift and my cherished contributions in silence. I will
not say that I was pleased at this; but I will tell her now, if by any
chance she takes up the work of her former servant, that I thought the
better of her taste. I cleared the decks after this lost engagement; had
the necessary interview with my father, which passed off not amiss; paid
over my share of the expense to the two little, active brothers, who
rubbed their hands as much, but methought skipped rather less than
formerly, having perhaps, these two also, embarked upon the enterprise
with some graceful illusions; and then, reviewing the whole episode, I
told myself that the time was not yet ripe, nor the man ready; and to
work I went again with my penny version-books, having fallen back in one
day from the printed author to the manuscript student.

III

From this defunct periodical I am going to reprint one of my own papers.
The poor little piece is all tail-foremost. I have done my best to
straighten its array, I have pruned it fearlessly, and it remains
invertebrate and wordy. No self-respecting magazine would print the