publisher's expectation, did not prove a successful speculation. About
four months after the period of its birth it expired, as all reviews must
for which there is no demand. Authors had ceased to send their
publications to it, and, consequently, to purchase it; for I have already
hinted that it was almost entirely supported by authors of a particular
class, who expected to see their publications foredoomed to immortality
in its pages. The behaviour of these authors towards this unfortunate
publication I can attribute to no other cause than to a report which was
industriously circulated, namely, that the review was low, and that to be
reviewed in it was an infallible sign that one was a low person, who
could be reviewed nowhere else. So authors took fright; and no wonder,
for it will never do for an author to be considered low. Homer himself
has never yet entirely recovered from the injury he received by Lord
Chesterfield's remark, that the speeches of his heroes were frequently
exceedingly low.

So the review ceased, and the reviewing corps no longer existed as such;
they forthwith returned to their proper avocations--the editor to compose
tunes on his piano, and to the task of disposing of the remaining copies
of his Quintilian--the inferior members to working for the publisher,
being to a man dependents of his; one, to composing fairy tales; another,
to collecting miracles of Popish saints; and a third, Newgate lives and
trials. Owing to the bad success of the review, the publisher became
more furious than ever. My money was growing short, and I one day asked
him to pay me for my labours in the deceased publication.

"Sir," said the publisher, "what do you want the money for?"

"Merely to live on," I replied; "it is very difficult to live in this
town without money."

"How much money did you bring with you to town?" demanded the publisher.

"Some twenty or thirty pounds," I replied.

"And you have spent it already?"

"No," said I, "not entirely; but it is fast disappearing."

"Sir," said the publisher, "I believe you to be extravagant; yes, sir,
extravagant!"

"On what grounds do you suppose me to be so?"

"Sir," said the publisher; "you eat meat."

"Yes," said I, "I eat meat sometimes: what should I eat?"

"Bread, sir," said the publisher; "bread and cheese."

"So I do, sir, when I am disposed to indulge; but I cannot often afford
it--it is very expensive to dine on bread and cheese, especially