made Commissioner of Appeals, and Steele State Commissioner of
Stamps by the British Government. Oliver Goldsmith said: "I have been
years struggling with a wretched being, with all that contempt which
indigence brings with it, with all those strong passions which make
contempt insupportable." Mr. Payne, the author of "Home, Sweet Home,"
had no home, and was inspired to the writing of his immortal song by a
walk through the streets one slushy night, and hearing music and
laughter inside a comfortable dwelling. The world-renowned Sheridan
said: "Mrs. Sheridan and I were often obliged to keep writing for our
daily shoulder of mutton; otherwise we should have had no dinner."
Mitford, while he was writing his most celebrated book, lived in the
fields, making his bed of grass and nettles, while two-pennyworth of
bread and cheese with an onion was his daily food. I know of no more
refreshing reading than the books of William Hazlitt. I take down from
my shelf one of his many volumes, and I know not when to stop reading.
So fresh and yet so old! But through all the volumes there comes a
melancholy, accounted for by the fact that he had an awful struggle for
bread. On his dying couch he had a friend write for him the following
letter to Francis Jeffrey:--

"Dear Sir,--I am at the last gasp. Please send me a hundred
pounds.--Yours truly,

"WILLIAM HAZLITT."

The money arrived the day after his death. Poor fellow! I wish he had
during his lifetime some of the tens of thousands of dollars that have
since been paid in purchase of his books. He said on one occasion to a
friend: "I have carried a volcano in my bosom up and down Paternoster
Row for a good two hours and a half. Can you lend me a shilling? I have
been without food these two days." My readers, to-day the struggle of a
good many literary people goes on. To be editor of a newspaper as I have
been, and see the number of unavailable manuscripts that come in, crying
out for five dollars, or anything to appease hunger and pay rent and get
fuel! Oh, it is heartbreaking! After you have given all the money you
can spare you will come out of your editorial rooms crying.

Disraeli was seventy-five when "Endymion" was published. Disraeli's
"Endymion" came at a time when books in America were greater than they
ever were before or have been since. A flood of magazines came
afterwards, and swamped them. Before this time new books were rarely
made. Rich men began to endo