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past, comes to throw again into obliv- | which had been allowed to go out in ion all that has been done up to this his excitement. date.

P. KROPOTKIN.

Froin Temple Bar. "WITH COMPLIMENTS AND THANKS."

I.

"Hear, hear!" said Tom Longley, the smiling critic referred to. "You ought to speak at the Union, Everard. And which is the particular sinner this time?"

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"Well, you fellows remember a story of mine which I read you last term, The Widow's Curse' it was called? You told me yourselves, some of you, that it was the most pathetic thing you had ever heard."

"So it was," remarked a cheerful little man, the cox of his college boat, whose real name happened to be Reginald Crawshaw, but who was always known as 66 "" Stumps "So it was. You read it to us that evening when most of us had been to Baitsbite and back, and were simply longing for bed. And so the Curse' has come here to roost, eh ?"

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It was about an hour before midnight, and Dick Everard's rooms at Cambridge were full of visitors. Although he was in his third year, he still kept in lodgings, on the ground of greater comfort. The furniture was of the usual kind; on the walls a few engravings, purporting to be proofs, a well-filled pipe-rack, and a couple of tin shields bearing the arms of their owner's school and college. In one corner lay a pile of caps and gowns belonging to his visitors, most of whom were smoking comfortably in easy- "Don't talk rot, Stumps," answered chairs, while one, unheeded by the the indignant author; "you know you rest, was pounding out the "Gondo- admired it. Though I wrote it myself, liers" from an ancient piano. On the I can't help seeing that it is better table were whiskey and tobacco, and than nine-tenths of the things that the bookshelves contained some bat-appear in the magazines. Well, I sent tered novels and some very new-it to the editor of the West-End Review, looking editions of the classics. And thinking that he would simply jump at on the hearth-rug, to complete the cat- it. And this morning I get it back alogue, stood Dick Everard himself, again Declined! A story which is whose ordinarily smiling countenance far and away better than the trash in was at this moment flushed and indig- this month's number ! " nant, for he was just bringing to an end an eloquent and impassioned speech. Its subject was the corruption of the press and the awful ignorance of editors, and it was based on personal ex-ity to send a letter, only a printed perience. Here it is,” and Everard drew a small slip of paper from his pocket. 'The editor of the West-End Review regrets that he is unable to make use of the enclosed story, which he therefore returns with his compliments and thanks.' As if I wanted his thanks ! " and he proceeded moodily to relight his pipe with the offending document.

"The whole system," he cried in conclusion, "is utterly rotten, and our papers and magazines are controlled by a narrow-minded clique. It is a notorious fact that editors have no true sense of their duty, and simply refuse to look at an outside contribution. What we must demand what we must insist upon (it's no good your sniggering like that, Tom) is a thorough and complete reform!" with which noble peroration the orator ceased, and began to refill his pipe,

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"The editor ought to be kicked," said Stumps sympathetically; "let's hear his letter."'

"He hasn't even the common civil

form.

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Rough luck, Dick," said Tom Longley ; "but surely there are plenty of other magazines whose editors may have better taste. And this fellow will feel badly scored off when he sees the

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'Accursed Widow' What? Oh, I'm long, though, I suppose," he added sorry the Widow's Curse'-printed mournfully, "and I think I'd almost as in another paper. Why not offer it soon listen to old Rollison lecturing on somewhere else?" trigonometry.”

Everard smiled sadly.

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"Well, Dick will be free to develop "Ah, that's just it," he answered; his literary tastes - in the bosom of 66 'one editor is as bad as another. his family if he is not careful," said There is it is a well-known thing the musician, "for if he goes on in this among literary men a disgraceful way, scribbling every morning, and conspiracy among them not to look at cutting all his lectures, he'll be sent outside work, and unless you get within down." the ring, your chances are quite worthless.'

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"Shut "" Bill ! up, said Stumps sternly, "None of your Pink 'Un talk to-night. We are all intellectual we are going to help a rising genius-you, Everard-to delight a grateful public."

"He had better begin," said the man at the piano, suddenly ceasing his performance, and turning round on the music-stool, "by pacifying an angry tutor. You cut Dodgson's Plato lecture again to-day, Dick, and he didn't look pleased. You'll get ploughed in your Tripos, unless you're careful. Why on earth you don't give up that writing nonsense, in which you will never do anything, and stick to classics, I can't conceive. And if you must write, why not send your things to the Granta ?" "The Granta, indeed! A mere frivolous rag," said the author. "You mentioned old Dodgson-and it is men like that, who are in places of authority, that are the real curse of the university-bigoted pedants, who look upon their own knowledge as the sum of scholarship. Why should I go to a Plato lecture? I hate classics, and I should be left to develop my literary tastes unimpeded; so ought every one -we want breadth and culture, every one ought to be left to improve his mind according to his natural bent."

"What if I am?" exclaimed Everard; "I shall not be the firster

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"Genius," prompted Stumps. "Whom the university has failed to appreciate. Look at the tutor, old Dodgson, now. What does he know of literature? What sympathy has he with art, or with the artistic temperament? I have, as you know, the artistic temperament." ("Hear, hear," from Longley. "Does it hurt much?" from Stumps.) "And they expect me to give my whole attention to conditional sentences and Greek particles! How can a man like Dodgson understand my feelings?"

"Give him the Widow's Curse' to read," suggested some one; "that would make him sit up a bit.” "Put him in as the villain in your next story," said Stumps; "that's what these novelist chaps always do with people whom they don't like."

"Well, I tell you what it is," resumed Everard, taking no notice of these friendly suggestions, "I am not going to stand it any longer - I am going to no more lectures this term, and I shall tell old Dodgson the reason why. We will form a league a society to break down the barriers of narrow prejudice."

"I am on," said Tom Longley. "The Anti-Lecture Company. Capital unlimited. Object, the total suppression of lectures and exams. President, R. Everard, Esq., Author of 'The Widow's Curse' and other works. Vice-President, T. Longley, Esq. Secretary- let's see Suit you, perhaps, Stumps ?"

"Great idea," said Stumps. "Bill here would smoke and read the Sportsman all day, and Longley would play golf at Coldham every morning. I "None for me, thanks," auswered should have to tub Freshers all day the cautious Stumps. "I'll join the

board after allotment, and wait and see whether you fellows get gated or not before committing myself."

"It seems to me,' ," said Warburton, the mau on the music-stool, "that you, Dick, and you other chaps are talking nonsense. Look at all the most successful men of the day — statesmen and lawyers and authors — nearly all of them began by taking good degrees at the 'varsity. Much better stick to your reading, Dick, and then you will have something more to show for your three years at Cambridge than a valuable collection of 'Declined with thanks' forms from every newspaper in London. And then you can take to literature seriously, if you still want to, later on. Your present system doesn't

gowns, and in half a minute Everard was left alone. He lit another pipe, and sat down to write a chapter of his latest story, but felt weighed down by the certainty that no editor would accept it. And so, after a short interval, he went to bed.

When he awoke on the following morning, he remembered that he had a Thucydides lecture at ten o'clock, and lay in bed considering whether or not he should attend it. On the whole, he felt that it would be impossible to do so after his brave words of the evening before. At the same time, however, he was aware that his tutor was likely to make things unpleasant for him, and his father, who, being a respectable solicitor, had no sympathy pay, in any sense.' with literature, would certainly not "You are entirely wrong," answered welcome his premature reappearance Everard impatiently. "Do you sup-in the domestic circle. "I must make pose that Thackeray or Tennyson were this protest for the sake of art," reany the better for what they learnt at flected Dick, "and, besides, I couldn't college lectures? And as for your re- face those fellows if they saw me at marks about my writings, it is quite lecture to-day after what I said last true that editors are partial and unfair night. But there's no denying that as a general rule, but yet merit must old Dodgson's a beast, and I shall prevail in time. Why, the Clarion | probably get into published a sonnet of mine quite lately."

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"Hot water, sir!" said his landlady, knocking at the bedroom door.

II.

As Everard was coming out of hall on the following evening he was stopped by the fellow's butler, a solemn person, with an impassive countenance. "Mr. Dodgson's compliments, sir,” he said, reading from a slip of paper in his hand, "and he'd like to see you at eight o'clock." And he moved on to repeat the unwelcome invitation to another delinquent.

It must be confessed that Everard's feelings, as he crossed the court, and walked up the old oak staircase, that led to his tutor's rooms, were not wholly enviable. Might not it have been more prudent, after all, to have

"What! Johnson?" chorussed the rest, and literature gave way to a hot discussion on the merits of the Trial Eights crews then being made up- a attended that Thucydides lecture? discussion only ended by the sudden discovery that it wanted but two minutes to midnight, by which time they had all to be in their colleges. Then ensued a tumultuous rush for caps and

To suffer as a martyr for the sake of literature was all very well, but there was also the distinct and unpleasing vision of his reception by his family were he to be sent down. However,

there was no help for it now, so he said the tutor suavely, who was assumed an air of as much heroic fortitude as he could muster, and walked up-stairs.

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engaged in jotting down some mem-
oranda, referring, probably, to the
previous interviews. He was a tall,
middle-aged man, with shrewd eyes,
which glanced keenly through a pair of
spectacles at the person whom he was
addressing. His dress was rather un-
tidy, and the large writing-table as well
as the sofa and chairs was thickly cov-
ered with an enormous quantity of
papers and books and pamphlets.
room, no less than its occupant, im-
pressed you with the idea of an indus-
trious and active brain.

The

At length Mr. Dodgson looked up from his writing.

"Yes, he means business to-night, and no mistake," said another man. "He told Rogers he was a disgrace to the college, and gated him at eight for a week just for sticking sunflower seeds "Well, Mr. Everard," he began, in the grass out in the court. Rogers" you doubtless are aware why I sent said it was to cultivate an aesthetic for you. Have you any explanation to taste in the college, but it wasn't any offer of your repeated absence from my use. Here comes Bubbles. Well, lectures ?" what luck, Bubbles ? "

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I mean, you see -growing desperate — "I don't intend to come to any more lectures."

Everard felt that the crisis had come; The door opened, and a stout youth now or never was the time to vindicate with a dejected countenance appeared, his independence as a literary genius. and another man entered the tutor's But his eloquence of the previous night rooms in his place. "None at all," "failed him. sighed Bubbles. "He asked me why "Well, sir, the fact is I hadn't kept a chapel for a fortnight. work — limited time I told him I was there in spirit.in fact" 'Oh,' says old Doddy, with that sarcastic smile of his, 'you are one of those fortunate beings who can dissociate your mind and your body at will? This is really most interesting. Of course, then, I need feel no compunction in gating your body, as your spirit will be able to visit your friends as usual.' Old beast!" said Bubbles, shaking his fist at the door. "Well, I wish you chaps luck," and he went down the stairs whistling.

One by one the remaining members of the group were summoned into the tutor's presence, to return presently looking cheerful or mournful according to the result of the interview. Everard, as the last comer, had to wait until justice had been dealt out to all the others, a process which took some time, during which, like Mr. Bob Acres, he felt his courage oozing away from him. At last, however, his turn

came.

There was a pause. Mr. Dodgson took off his spectacles, wiped them, replaced them carefully, and glared at Everard as if anxious to convince himself that this was really an undergraduate, and not some new kind of animal. And Dick's gaze was directed to the floor, while he fervently wished himself anywhere but in his present situation.

"Ah," said Mr. Dodgson at last. "And when, may I ask, did you form this this remarkable resolution ?"

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"Last night, sir," answered Dick, feeling more and more uncomfortable.

"Last night," repeated the tutor, as if trying to grasp the meaning of the words, " you resolved-last nightthat you would attend -no more lectures. Dear me. Would it be presuming too much if I were to ask your reasons for your "mination ?"

"Sit down, please, Mr. Everard,"

startling deter

"The fact is, sir," answered Everard, mustering up a little courage, "that my talents do not lie in the direction of the Classical Tripos."

"I am disposed to agree with that view," put in the tutor dryly.

"And, on the other hand, I feel that I am destined to make a name in literature. It is as a novelist that I must distinguish myself; without boasting, I may say I have some originality." "Your conduct has already convinced me of that."

"But, if I am to do myself justice, my whole time henceforth must be devoted to the art of fiction."

"Judging from some excuses I have had to-night, you are not without fellow-students in this college."

"And it is therefore mere waste of time for me to spend the mornings at Thucydides lectures. You, sir, are no doubt an eminent classic."

Mr. Dodgson bowed gravely.

"But you have no knowledge of, or sympathy with, modern English literature. If you had, you would know how difficult a thing it is to overcome the cliquism and prejudices of editors, and how the task is one to which it is necessary to give one's whole time and attention."

"Well, then, perhaps you know what poor stuff is often printed in it. Yet they rejected my story, which was really powerful. Unless I read it to you, you wouldn't understand its good points."

"Unless by any chance," interrupted Mr. Dodgson, with a quiet smile, "it was called 'The Widow's Curse' ?"

Everard sprang to his feet in his astonishment. "How on earth do you know that?" he shouted, quite forgetting in his excitement, that he was addressing his college tutor.

"Pray be seated," answered Mr. Dodgson tranquilly. "How do I know it? Merely from the curious fact that I happen to be editing the West-End Review."

Dick sat down heavily in his chair and gasped. The remembrance of his remarks about dons and editors completely crushed him. This was indeed an awful staggerer, to find that old Dodgson, whom he had always thought of contemptuously as a mere classical pedant, was in fact the editor of one of the leading magazines !

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"Don't be alarmed, Mr. Everard; I am not in the least offended by your remarks about editors in general, and the director of the West-End Review in particular, though you can hardly expect me to agree with them. Besides, before long your opinions on this subject may be somewhat altered. And now, my dear fellow" - could this be the stern tutor? "let us look at the matter from a common-sense point of view. We must have no more talk of not attending lectures. You are here at Cambridge for many reasons, but one of the most important is to train you to work hard at subjects for which you may have but little liking, and for having learnt this lesson you will be grateful when you have forgotten every word of Greek. Go on writing by all means, but make your work for your degree, both for your a monthly mag-parents' sake and your own, the main azine, you know, sir — perhaps you've thing, As to the Widow's Curse,' I

Had Everard possessed the necessary courage to look at his tutor, he would have seen that gentleman doing his utmost to repress a smile. His voice, however, was quite grave as he replied: "Indeed, Mr. Everard, I had no idea that we were nurturing a rising literary genius in our midst. Have your efforts met with much success hitherto ?" Dick blushed somewhat. แ Not yet, sir," he answered; "but I can't help thinking that this is chiefly due to the short-sighted folly of the editors, who will never take a good thing from a man outside the ring. Why, quite lately" - Dick was warming to his subject, and had wholly lost his dread of his tutor-"I sent a story to the West-End Review

never seen it ?"

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remember reading it quite well, and there is a good deal of promise in it. So many contributions come in that I

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