. He spends sometimes two or
three, sometimes four or five, hours a day at his writing-table. He very
often forces himself to write when he has an uncompleted task before
him. He must have a pen in his hand when he is composing in prose or
verse--it seems a kind of conductor, without which his thoughts will not
flow continuously in proper order.

Julius Wolffe, the German poet, belongs to those who never work at
night. He writes from early in the morning until the late hours of the
afternoon. He makes an outline, which, however, is almost equivalent to
fair copy, since very few additions and alterations are ever made. While
at work he moderately smokes cigars. When he is absorbed in cogitation
on a subject in hand, he often walks up and down his room. He writes
with great facility, for he never treats of topics that are not
congenial to him. He is a very industrious man; every day finds him at
his writing-desk, where he spends from eight to nine hours out of the
twenty-four.

The work of Edmund Gosse being multiform and very pressing, he has no
choice between the daytime and the night, and must use both. The central
hours of the day being given up to his official business for the
government, which consists of translation from the various European
languages, only the morning and the evening remain for literary work.
His books have mainly been written between eight and eleven P. M., and
corrected for the press between nine and ten A. M. He finds the
afternoon almost a useless time. In his estimation, the physical
clockwork of the twenty-four hours seems to run down about four P.
M.,--at least, such is his experience. He makes no written skeleton or
first draft. His first draft is what goes to the printers, and commonly
with very few alterations. He rounds off his sentences in his head
before committing them to paper. He uses no stimulant at work. He drinks
wine twice a day, but after dinner he neither eats nor drinks. He has
found this habit essential to his health and power of work. The only
exception he makes is that, as he is closing for the night,--a little
before eleven o'clock,--he takes several cups of very strong tea, which
he has proved by experience to be by far the best sedative for his
nerves. If he goes to bed immediately after this strong tea, at the
close of a hard day's work, he generally sleeps soundly almost as soon
as his head is on the pillow. Coffee keeps him awake, and so does
alcohol. He has tried