present, out of which books for the future will be written: study them;
and here, as in the volumes of the past, diligently amass and deliberately
compile."

By degrees Norreys led on that young ardent mind from the selection of
ideas to their aesthetic analysis--from compilation to criticism; but
criticism severe, close, and logical--a reason for each word of praise or
of blame. Led in this stage of his career to examine into the laws of
beauty, a new light broke upon his mind; from amidst the masses of marble
he had piled around him, rose the vision of the statue.

And so, suddenly one day Norreys said to him, "I need a compiler no
longer--maintain yourself by your own creations." And Leonard wrote, and a
work flowered up from the seed deep buried, and the soil well cleared to
the rays of the sun and the healthful influence of expanded air.

That first work did not penetrate to a very wide circle of readers, not
from any perceptible fault of its own--there is luck in these things, the
first anonymous work of an original genius is rarely at once eminently
successful. But the more experienced recognized the promise of the book.
Publishers, who have an instinct in the discovery of available talent,
which often forestalls the appreciation of the public, volunteered liberal
offers. "Be fully successful this time," said Norreys; "think not of
models nor of style. Strike at once at the common human heart--throw away
the corks--swim out boldly. One word more--never write a page till you have
walked from your room to Temple Bar, and, mingling with men, and reading
the human face, learn why great poets have mostly passed their lives in
cities."

Thus Leonard wrote again, and woke one morning to find himself famous. So
far as the chances of all professions dependent on health will permit,
present independence, and, with foresight and economy, the prospects of
future competence were secured.

"And, indeed," said Leonard, concluding a longer but a simpler narrative
than is here told--"indeed, there is some chance that I may obtain at once
a sum that will leave me free for the rest of my life to select my own
subjects and write without care for renumeration. This is what I call the
true (and, perhaps, alas! the rare) independence of him who devotes
himself to letters. Norreys, having seen my boyish plan for the
improvement of certain machinery in the steam-engine, insisted on my
giving much time to mechanics. The study that o