quite unknown out of their own circles. For every thousand familiar with the name of Shakespeare Green, the writer of “awfuls,” there is not one who can tell you who are the editors of the leading daily papers and principal reviews. The anonymity of journalism has its advantages, and very likely the directors of public opinion are content to remain behind its curtain; but it is through this same anonymous arrangement that the smallest of small fry measured on their merits are enabled to parade themselves as they do. There are, we know, many deservedly well and widely known writers for newspapers and serials who are really what they profess to be, and who depend upon nothing so much as merit, for success; but even they must admit the truth of what we have said, and must often feel very like the apples did as they went down stream in the fable.
It might be as well here to say a few words about the advertisement swindles that are perpetrated by means of photographs. It has long been a crying evil that at certain theatres shameless women who wear many diamonds and few clothes are allowed to appear upon the stage and play at acting. Much training enables them now and again to deliver half-a-dozen lines without displaying their ignorance and peculiarity of aspiration too glaringly; but they cannot be depended on to do even this much with certainty. Sometimes they sing in the smallest of small voices, and a few of them have mastered the breakdown and the can-can; but their chief attraction consists, to the audience, in their lavish display of limbs and “neck,” and, to the manager, in their requiring but nominal salaries. One would have thought it sufficient that such creatures should exhibit themselves to the people who choose to go and see them; but it is not so,