—"All lovers of books like to know something about the
writers of books ;" and so Mr. W. Shepherd is going to give us a series of " booklets " dealing with the subject of the "Literary Life." The volume before us is the first of tho series. If it is only as interesting to readers as it is to writers, it should bo a success. A number of persons who have lived more or less successfully by their pens tell us of their experiences ; and as to live by the pen is the ambition, if not the expectation, of multitudes of young people in these days, these experiences will find a large and interested public. On the whole, the effect will, we think, be sobering, not to say discouraging. Young aspirants to the literary life are born to evil days. The ways are crowded, in comparison, not of the last century only, but of twenty- five years ago. One reason is that the number of those who use literary work as a side-employment is enormously increased. Take any number of a popular review, and you will see that the vast majority of the articles are the work not of professional, littdrateurs, but of men who live by other occupations. In the May number of the Nineteenth Century, to take the first illustration that suggests itself, there is but one strictly literary contributor, Mr. Burnand. All the other names are those of mon mainly engaged in other professions. One of the most interesting things in this book is the comparison of the receipts of English and American authors. The latter are by far the worse off, a result which we are glad to see that Mr. Shepherd attributes to its true cause,—the went of an international copyright. Washington Irving and Cooper may have made about totals of 250,000, —not much, when spread over is long life. Hawthorne received an average income of 2400 ; but was paid, we are told, by the " enor- mous perquisites of the Consulship at Liverpool." Mrs. Stowe received £8,000 for " Uncle Tom's Cabin." Times, however, are improving, "Mark Twain" receiving, it is said, £60,000 for "The Innocents Abroad." If this figure is correct, it is by far the best price over fetched by a book,—the intriusio value being considered. Most readers, however, will be concerned to hear not about the groat men, but about the average workers. A New York journalist tells us that with " fifteen hours' work " per day, (can this figure be possibly correct ?) he earns something between five and six hundred a year. We take it that in England a man may earn by hard work—" fifteen hours" is quite impossible here, whatever it may be on the other side of the Atlautio—abont £700 per annum, i.e., if his name has no special value. One conclusion we would draw from the whole—and Mr. Shepherd, we take it, would be inclined to agree, that a man should not make literature the sole means of livelihood. Those who can find a position such as was Charles Lamb's are by far the happiest of writers.
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