"What a comment is this on American criticism! O, Barry, it is such men as you, with fine taste and fine talent, who bring literature into disrepute. Your genius gives you responsible places in the world of letters, and how you wrong the trust!"

"Thank you," returned Barescythe, coldly, "you blend flattery and insult so ingeniously, that I hesitate whether to give you the assurance of my distinguished consideration, or knock you down."

"Either you please, Barry. I have spoken quite as honestly, if not so bluntly as you; and I regret that I have so little to say in favor of your inconsistent criticism. I am sorry you dislike my novel, but—"

I looked toward the chair in which Barescythe had been sitting.

He was gone.

I was not surprised, for Barry does few things "after the manner of men," and a ceremonious departure is something he never dreams of. I sat and thought of what had been said. I wondered if we were the dregs of time, the worthless leaves of trees that had borne their fruit—if there were none among us,

And lastly, I wondered if any of our city papers had such a critical appendage as T. J. Barescythe.

?

It is pleasant to have your friend Mr. Smith pat you patronisingly on the back, and say, "My dear fellow, when is your book coming out?"

Of course, you send Mrs. Smith a copy after that—and all Mrs. Smith's relations.

"Daisy's Necklace" is nearly ready. The following advertisement, which I cut from "The Evening Looking Glass" of last Thursday, illustrates the manner in which "my publishers," Messrs. Printem & Sellem, make their literary announcements:

DAISY'S NECKLACE,

And what came of it

PRINTEM & SELLEM,

Publishers."

That was rather modest and pleasant; but it is pleasanter than all to have an early copy of your book placed on the breakfast-table, unexpectedly, some sunshiny morning—to behold, for the first time, the darling of your meditation in a suit of embossed muslin. How your heart turns over—if you are not used to the thing. How you make pauses between your coffee and muffins, to admire the clear typography, the luxurious paper, the gold letters on the back!

Messrs. Printem & Sellem sent me two out-of-town papers, containing notices of "Daisy." These notices were solicited by advance copies of the work, for the purpose of being used in the publication advertisement. It is curious to remark how great minds will differ.

[From the Blundertown Journal.]

"NEW PUBLICATIONS.

"Daisy's Necklace, and what came
of it. New-York: Printem and
Sellem.

This production is an emanation
from the culminating mind of glorious
genius! Nothing like it has been produced
in this century. It possesses all
the fine elements of Dickens' novels,
without any of their numerous defects.
Its scope, its pathos, and wit, is[B]
beyond all praise. Our Britannic brethren
will no longer ask, 'Who reads
an American book?' For we can reply,
'The World!'

"We learn, from good authority, that
the publishers have received orders for
twenty thousand copies of the work, in
advance of its publication. We have no
doubt of it; for 'Daisy's Necklace' will
shed new lustre on the name of American
Literature! Envious authors will
abuse the work. As the immortal Goethe
says, 'De gustibus non est disputandum!
' Our rush of advertisements prevents
us from making voluminous
extracts from the novel; this, however,
would be useless, as everybody will
read it for themselves.

"Orders addressed to Higgins & Co.,
of this town, will be promptly filled."

I should take the editor of the "Blundertown Journal" to be a man of cultured taste, appreciative and discriminating. The second review was not quite so "favorable," and can scarcely be called "a first-rate notice."

"Daisy's Necklace" is the silly
title of an absurd novel about to be
issued by Printem & Sellem, of
New-York. From the fact that the author's
name is withheld from the title-page,
we infer that he had some friends—
some few who were not wholly willing
that he should make a donkey of
himself. We have read a great deal of
trash in our day; but 'Daisy's Necklace'
is the king of all vapid novels,
—sentimental in sentiment, flaccid in
fiction, and entirely intolerable from
beginning to end. The first forty pages
put us to sleep. We advise all druggists
to keep the book for sale,—as an
anodyne.

"The binding is good, and that is
all the praise we can give so contemptible
an abortion. A reading public
that tolerates a novel like this, must be
made up of very good-natured persons—
assinine in temperament, and mentally
obtuse.

"This 'work,' we presume, is written
by that much-abused and prolific myth
—'a young gentleman of this city,'
distinguished, of course. We believe
that he writes all of Printem & Sellem's
books. At all events, those enterprising
gentlemen always have 'a startling
novel' in press, from his immortal
pen. What a long string of sins
these gentlemen have to answer for!
What a commotion there would be
among the shelves of their book-store,
if dead authors could come back and
reclaim stolen property! If the shade
of Lindley Murray could stalk among them!

"For our part, we had rather see
the Hudson River Railroad's list of
'dead and wounded,' than Printem &
Sellem's list of 'Popular Publications!'
But it is consoling to know that books
like 'Daisy's Necklace,' in spite of
'purchased puffery,' find their level at last
as linings for portmanteaus and third-rate
trunks. We shall make cigar-lighters
of our copy, and thank the stars
that we were not born a book-making
genius!"

Not a line quoted to prove the justice of the unstrained censure! I could not account for the malignant personality of this critique, until Barry informed me that my publishers never advertised their books in the columns of the "Frogpond Gazette." This, of course, explained it. I only wish I had the stubborn editor of the "Frogpond" at arm's length, I would try the consistency of his ears.

I was somewhat astonished, the next day, to find how ingeniously Messrs. Printem & Sellem made the adverse criticism subservient to their interests.

My lucubration was out.

The "Post" said so; the "Morning Rabid" said it; the "Evening Looking-Glass" said it; and a host of small fry echoed the important fact. I unfolded "The Rabid," and beheld the following advertisement:

THE 'FROGPOND GAZETTE,'
(high authority), in a long review
of this work says: 'Daisy's Necklace
is the King of all Novels.'

'The Blundertown Journal' (also
high authority) remarks:

'This Book is an emanation from the
culminating mind of glorious genius!'

'Nothing like it has been produced
in this century!'

'It has all the fine elements of
Dickens' Novels, without any of their
numerous defects!'

Our first edition (20,000 copies) is
exhausted, and we beg our friends to
have patience for a few days.

WANTED, 4,000 Agents to sell the
above work!!

Printem & Sellem,

Publishers."

"Four thousand agents!" quoth Barry, looking over my shoulder; "I rather think it would take forty thousand to sell an edition of 'Daisy!'"

I laughed at my irate friend, and, igniting a fresh regalia, crossed my feet on the mantel-piece, and remarked, composedly,

"Now for the Critics!"

The Greek of my book-making genius, Ralph—— Esq., seems decidedly rusty. He has evidently given his lexicon an icy shoulder. Will the intellectual and erudite reader substitute kyrie eleyson for kyrie elyson on page 131?