ontinuously.
There have been lawyers who could think out their whole argument in
connected order without a single note. There are authors,--and I think
there are many,--who can compose and finish off a poem or a story without
writing a word of it until, when the proper time comes, they copy what
they carry in their heads. I have been told that Sir Edwin Arnold
thought out his beautiful "Light of Asia" in this way.

I find the great charm of writing consists in its surprises. When one is
in the receptive attitude of mind, the thoughts which are sprung upon
him, the images which flash through his--consciousness, are a delight and
an excitement. I am impatient of every hindrance in setting down my
thoughts,--of a pen that will not write, of ink that will not flow, of
paper that will not receive the ink. And here let me pay the tribute
which I owe to one of the humblest but most serviceable of my assistants,
especially in poetical composition. Nothing seems more prosaic than the
stylographic pen. It deprives the handwriting of its beauty, and to some
extent of its individual character. The brutal communism of the letters
it forms covers the page it fills with the most uniformly uninteresting
characters. But, abuse it as much as you choose, there is nothing like
it for the poet, for the imaginative writer. Many a fine flow of thought
has been checked, perhaps arrested, by the ill behavior of a goose-quill.
Many an idea has escaped while the author was dipping his pen in the
inkstand. But with the stylographic pen, in the hands of one who knows
how to care for it and how to use it, unbroken rhythms and harmonious
cadences are the natural products of the unimpeded flow of the fluid
which is the vehicle of the author's thoughts and fancies. So much for my
debt of gratitude to the humble stylographic pen. It does not furnish
the proper medium for the correspondence of intimates, who wish to see as
much of their friends' personality as their handwriting can hold,--still
less for the impassioned interchange of sentiments between lovers; but in
writing for the press its use is open to no objection. Its movement over
the paper is like the flight of a swallow, while the quill pen and the
steel pen and the gold pen are all taking short, laborious journeys, and
stopping to drink every few minutes.

A chief pleasure which the author of novels and stories experiences is
that of becoming acquainted with the characters be draws. It is
per