board or his lapstone。 I have advised the dilettanti； whose foolish
friends praised their verses or their stories； to give up all their
deceptive dreams of making a name by their genius； and go to work in
the study of a profession which asked only for the diligent use of
average； ordinary talents。 It is a very grave responsibility which
these unknown correspondents throw upon their chosen counsellors。
One whom you have never seen； who lives in a community of which you
know nothing； sends you specimens more or less painfully voluminous
of his writings； which he asks you to read over； think over； and pray
over； and send back an answer informing him whether fame and fortune
are awaiting him as the possessor of the wonderful gifts his writings
manifest； and whether you advise him to leave all；the shop he
sweeps out every morning； the ledger he posts； the mortar in which he
pounds； the bench at which he urges the reluctant plane；and follow
his genius whithersoever it may lead him。 The next correspondent
wants you to mark out a whole course of life for him； and the means
of judgment he gives you are about as adequate as the brick which the
simpleton of old carried round as an advertisement of the house he
had to sell。 My advice to all the young men that write to me depends
somewhat on the handwriting and spelling。 If these are of a certain
character； and they have reached a mature age； I recommend some
honest manual calling； such as they have very probably been bred to；
and which will； at least； give them a chance of becoming President of
the United States by and by； if that is any object to them。 What
would you have done with the young person who called on me a good
many years ago； so many that he has probably forgotten his literary
effort；and read as specimens of his literary workmanship lines like
those which I will favor you with presently？ He was an able…bodied；
grown…up young person； whose ingenuousness interested me； and I am
sure if I thought he would ever be pained to see his maiden effort in
print； I would deny myself the pleasure of submitting it to the
reader。 The following is an exact transcript of the lines he showed
me； and which I took down on the spot：
〃Are you in the vein for cider？
Are you in the tune for pork ？
Hist！ for Betty's cleared the larder
And turned the pork to soap。〃
Do not judge too hastily this sincere effort of a maiden muse。 Here
was a sense of rhythm； and an effort in the direction of rhyme； here
was an honest transcript of an occurrence of daily life； told with a
certain idealizing expression； recognizing the existence of impulses；
mysterious instincts； impelling us even in the selection of our
bodily sustenance。 But I had to tell him that it wanted dignity of
incident and grace of narrative； that there was no atmosphere to it；
nothing of the light that never was and so forth。 I did not say this
in these very words； but I gave him to understand； without being too
hard upon him； that he had better not desert his honest toil in
pursuit of the poet's bays。 This； it must be confessed； was a rather
discouraging case。 A young person like this may pierce； as the
Frenchmen say； by and by； but the chances are all the other way。
I advise aimless young men to choose some profession without needless
delay； and so get into a good strong current of human affairs； and
find themselves bound up in interests with a compact body of their
fellow…men。
I advise young women who write to me for counsel；perhaps I do not
advise them at all； only sympathize a little with them； and listen to
what they have to say （eight closely written pages on the average；
which I always read from beginning to end； thinking of the widow's
cruse and myself in the character of Elijah） andandcome now； I
don't believe Methuselah would tell you what he said in his letters
to young ladies； written when he was in his nine hundred and sixty…
ninth year。
But； dear me！ how much work all this private criticism involves！ An
editor has only to say 〃respectfully declined；〃 and there is the end
of it。 But the confidential adviser is expected to give the reasons
of his likes and dislikes in detail； and sometimes to enter into an
argument for their support。 That is more than any martyr can stand；
but what trials he must go through； as it is！ Great bundles of
manuscripts； verse or prose； which the recipient is expected to read；
perhaps to recommend to a publisher； at any rate to express a well…
digested and agreeably flavored opinion about； which opinion； nine
times out of ten； disguise it as we may； has to be a bitter draught；
every form of egotism； conceit； false sentiment； hunger for
notoriety； and eagerness for display of anserine plumage before the
admiring public；all these come in by mail or express； covered with
postage…stamps of so much more cost than the value of the waste words
they overlie； that one comes at last to groan and change color at the
very sight of a package； and to dread the postman's knock as if it
were that of the other visitor whose naked knuckles rap at every
door。
Still there are experiences which go far towards repaying all these
inflictions。 My last young man's case looked desperate enough； some
of his sails had blown from the rigging； some were backing in the
wind； and some were flapping and shivering； but I told him which way
to head； and to my surprise he promised to do just as I directed； and
I do not doubt is under full sail at this moment。
What if I should tell my last； my very recent experience with the
other sex？ I received a paper containing the inner history of a
young woman's life； the evolution of her consciousness from its
earliest record of itself； written so thoughtfully； so sincerely；
with so much firmness and yet so much delicacy； with such truth of
detail and such grace in the manner of telling； that I finished the
long manuscript almost at a sitting； with a pleasure rarely； almost
never experienced in voluminous communications which one has to spell
out of handwriting。 This was from a correspondent who made my
acquaintance by letter when she was little more than a child； some
years ago。 How easy at that early period to have silenced her by
indifference； to have wounded her by a careless epithet； perhaps even
to have crushed her as one puts his heel on a weed！ A very little
encouragement kept her from despondency； and brought back one of
those overflows of gratitude which make one more ashamed of himself
for being so overpaid than he would be for having committed any of
the lesser sins。 But what pleased me most in the paper lately
received was to see how far the writer had outgrown the need of any
encouragement of mine； that she had strengthened out of her tremulous
questionings into a self…reliance and self…poise which I had hardly
dared to anticipate for her。 Some of my readers who are also writers
have very probably had more numerous experiences of this kind than I
can lay claim to； self…revelations from unknown and sometimes
nameless friends； who write from strange corners where the winds have
wafted some stray words of theirs which have lighted in the minds and
reached the hearts of those to whom they were as the angel that
stirred the pool of Bethesda。 Perhaps this is the best reward
authorship brings； it may not imply much talent or literary
excellence； but it means that your way of thinking and feeling is
just what some one of your fellow…creatures needed。
I have been putting into shape； according to his request； some
further passages from the Young Astronomer's manuscript； some of
which the reader will have a chance to read if he is so disposed。
The conflict in the young man's mind between the desire for fame and
the sense of its emptiness as compared with nobler aims has set me
thinking about the subject from a somewhat humbler point of view。 As
I am in the habit of telling you； Beloved； many of my thoughts； as
well as of repeating what was said at our table； you may read what
follows as if it were addressed to you in the course of an ordinary
conversation； where I claimed rather more than my share； as I am
afraid I am a little in the habit of doing。
I suppose we all； those of us who write in verse or prose； have the
habitual feeling that we should like to be remembered。 It is to be
awake when all of those who were round us have been long wrapped in
slumber。 It is a pleasant thought enough that the name by which we
have been called shall be familiar on the lips of those who come
after us； and the thoughts that wrought themselves out in our
intelligence； the emotions that trembled through our frames； shall
live themselves over again in the minds and hearts of others。
But is there not something of rest； of calm； in the thought of gently
and gradually fading away out of human remembrance？ What line have
we written that was on a level with our conceptions？ What page of
ours that does not betray some weakness we would fain have left
unrecorded？ To become a classic and share the life of a language is
to be ever open to criticisms； to comparisons； to the caprices of
successive generations； to be called into cour