ble circumstances, and
who occasionally get quite rich and mingle in important society. They
set considerable store by reviews; they employ publicity men at good
wages who continually supply reviewers with valuable information by
post and telephone; they are fond of quoting in large type remarks from
reviews which please them; and sometimes, at reviews they don't like,
they stir up a fuss and have literary editors removed from office.

Yes, reviews have much power. They are eagerly read by multitudes of
people who write very indignantly to the paper to correct and rebuke
the reviewer when, owing to fatigue, he refers to Miss Mitford as
having written "Cranford," or otherwise blunders. They are the wings
of fame to new authors. They can increase the sale of a book by saying
that it should not be in the hands of the young. They are tolerated by
the owners of papers, who are very powerful men indeed, engaged in the
vast modern industry of manufacturing news for the people, and in
constant effort to obtain control of politics. Reviewers are paid
space rates of, in some instances, as much as eight dollars a column,
with the head lines deducted. When there is no other payment they
always get the book they review free for their libraries, or to sell
cheap to the second-hand man. Reviewers are spoken of as "the
critics"--by simple-minded people; when their printed remarks are
useful for that purpose, the remarks are called "leading critical
opinions"--by advertisements; and reviewers are sometimes invited to
lunch by astute authors, and are treated to pleasant dishes to cheer
them, and given good cigars to smoke.

Occasionally somebody ups and discusses the nature of our literary
journalism and what sort of a creature the reviewer is. Dr. Bliss
Perry was at this not long ago in the _Yale Review_. Editor for a
couple of decades of our foremost literary journal, and now a professor
in one of our great universities, Dr. Perry certainly knows a good deal
about various branches of the book business. His highly critical
review of the reviewing business has somewhat the character of a
history that a great general might write of a war. A man who had
served in the trenches, however, would give a more intimate picture,
though of course it would not be as good history.

I will give an intimate picture of the American reviewer at work
to-day: the absurdly young, the slightly bald, and the elderly with
whiskers; and of his ha