Produced by David Widger from page images generously provided by the Internet Archive
Author of "Forbid the Banns," "Daireen,'" "A Gray Eye or So," etc.
London: Hutchins On And Co., Paternoster Row
_Odd lots of journalism--Respectability and its relation to journalism--The abuse of the journal--The laudation of the journalist--Abuse the consequence of popularity--Popularity the consequence of abuse--Drain-work and grey hairs--"Don't neglect your reading for the sake of reviewing"--Reading for pleasure or to criticise--Literature--Deterioration--The Civil List Pension--In exchange for a soul._
SOME years ago there was an auction of wine at a country-house in Scotland, the late owner of which had taken pains to gain a reputation for judgment in the matter of wine-selecting. He had all his life been nearly as intemperate as a temperance orator in his denunciation of whisky as a drink, hoping to inculcate a taste for vintage clarets upon the Scots; but he that tells the tale--it is not a new one--says that the man died without seriously jeopardizing the popularity of the native manufacture. The wines that he had laid down brought good prices, however; but, at the close of the sale, several odd lots were "put up," and all were bought by a local publican. A gentleman who had been present called upon the publican a few days afterwards, and found him engaged in mixing into one huge cask all the "lots" that he had bought--Larose, Johannisberg, Château Coutet.
"Hallo," said the visitor, "what's this mixture going to be, Rabbie?"
"Weel, sir," said the publican, looking with one eye into the cask and mechanically giving the contents a stir with a bottle of Sauterne which he had just uncorked--"Weel, sir, I think it should be port, but I'm no sure."
These odd lots of journalistic experiences and recollections may be considered a book, "but I'm no sure."
After all, "a book's a book although"--it's written by a journalist. Nearly every writer of books nowadays becomes a journalist when he has written a sufficient number. He is usually encouraged in this direction by his publishers.
"You're a literary man, are you not?" a stranger said to a friend of mine.
"On the contrary, I'm a journalist," was the reply.