eel uncomfortable, so much so
at times that it prevents him from writing. He is a facile writer, and
composes with great speed. He never writes unless inclined to, and is
governed by moods. Therefore, a week or two sometimes passes before he
pens a line, being in perfect health, but lacking the inclination to
perform intellectual work. He never devotes more than three hours a day
to literary labor, generally less than that, but spends almost all day
in thinking over the plots of his novels. He never begins a story until
it is elaborated in his mind, and never makes notes. When once engaged
in the composition of a novel, he keeps at it day after day until it is
finished. While writing his own he is unable to read the novels of
anybody else.

Celia Thaxter evolves her graceful verses in the daytime. She sometimes
makes a skeleton of her work first, not always; and very often forces
herself to work in spite of disinclination.

The Austrian poet, Rudolph Baumbach, is partial to daylight, and never
writes at night. He always makes an outline of his work before beginning
in good earnest. When meditating on his poems he walks up and down the
room, but gives the open air the preference. He likes much light; when
the sun does not shine his work does not progress favorably. In the
evening he lights up his room by a large number of candles. Literary
labor is pleasure to him when the weather is fine, but it is extremely
hard when clouds shut out the sunlight. The poet has no fixed rule as
regards working-hours; sometimes he exerts himself a great deal for
weeks, and then again he does not write at all for a long time.

Otto von Leixner, German historian, poet, novelist, and essayist,
composes prose, which requires logical thinking, in the daytime, but
does poetical work, which taxes principally the imagination, in the
evening. He makes a skeleton of all critical and scientific
compositions, indeed of all essays, and then writes out the "copy" for
the press, seldom making alterations. But he files away at poems from
time to time until he thinks them fit for publication. He is a smoker,
but does not smoke when at work. Whether promenading the shady walks of
a wood or perambulating the dusty streets of the city, Leixner
constantly thinks about the works he has in hand. Literary work has no
difficulties for this author; he penned one of his poems, "The Vision,"
consisting of five hundred and eighty lines, in three hours and a half
a