innumerable pens--pens whose wielders are all trying, as the author of
this handbook urges them, to 'be original, fresh, and interesting' by
dint of more or less strict adherence to sample.

Giddily you draw back from the edge of the abyss. Come!--here is a
thought to steady you. The mysterious great masses of helpless folk for
whom 'How Shall I Word It' is written are sound at heart, delicate in
feeling, anxious to please, most loth to wound. For it must be presumed
that the author's style of letter-writing is informed as much by a
desire to give his public what it needs, and will pay for, as by his own
beautiful nature; and in the course of all the letters that he dictates
you will find not one harsh word, not one ignoble thought or unkind
insinuation. In all of them, though so many are for the use of persons
placed in the most trying circumstances, and some of them are for
persons writhing under a sense of intolerable injury, sweetness and
light do ever reign. Even 'yours truly, Jacob Langton,' in his 'letter
to his Daughter's Mercenary Fiance',' mitigates the sternness of his
tone by the remark that his 'task is inexpressibly painful.' And he, Mr.
Langton, is the one writer who lets the post go out on his wrath. When
Horace Masterton, of Thorpe Road, Putney, receives from Miss Jessica
Weir, of Fir Villa, Blackheath, a letter 'declaring her Change of
Feelings,' does he upbraid her? No; 'it was honest and brave of you to
write to me so straightforwardly and at the back of my mind I know you
have done what is best.... I give you back your freedom only at your
desire. God bless you, dear.' Not less admirable is the behaviour, in
similar case, of Cecil Grant (14, Glover Street, Streatham). Suddenly,
as a bolt from the blue, comes a letter from Miss Louie Hawke (Elm View,
Deerhurst), breaking off her betrothal to him. Haggard, he sits down to
his desk; his pen traverses the notepaper--calling down curses on Louie
and on all her sex? No; 'one cannot say good-bye for ever without deep
regret to days that have been so full of happiness. I must thank you
sincerely for all your great kindness to me.... With every sincere wish
for your future happiness,' he bestows complete freedom on Miss Hawke.
And do not imagine that in the matter of self-control and sympathy, of
power to understand all and pardon all, the men are lagged behind by the
women. Miss Leila Johnson (The Manse, Carlyle) has observed in Leonard
Wace (Dover Street,