valuable time to reading and criticising the works of his brethren in art cannot be in very great demand, as fiction is paid for at a much higher rate than reviewing. That Miss Corelli's earlier works were submitted for valuation to those engaged—if we may use a commercial phrase—in the same line of business, may account for the bitterness that characterized many of the notices. Let the critic criticise, and the novelist write novels; then, each attending to his trade, the new writer will receive fairer play.
The rough-and-tumble journey through the now defunct house of Bentley which "A Romance of Two Worlds" experienced, prompts us to question the advisability of appointing novelists to act as publishers' "readers." Quantities of manuscript pass through the hands of a publisher's literary adviser, and in six weeks he may imbibe—he cannot help imbibing—enough ideas to set him up for six years. A novelist who spends a considerable portion of his lifetime weighing and sorting the raw material of other novelists, must find it a matter of great difficulty to reconcile his conscience with the performance of such duties.
It must often have occurred to the men who have so harshly criticised Miss Corelli's works to demand of themselves a logical reason for her boundless
