great mass of unsolicited literary material which comes to them is becoming more and more onerous. More and more the weight of this labor is falling on the literary agents. Since the earnings of the agents depend on the percentage of the price realized from the sale of manuscripts they can scarcely be blamed for selecting their clients with the utmost care. This tendency is continually operating to cut down the opportunities of new writers for obtaining a fair hearing in spite of the fact that the demand for all types of literary material is increasing steadily.

The ranks of the larger agencies which handle almost entirely the work of wellestablished writers are now being joined by others of a new type. These smaller agents, many of them having excellent editorial connections, should be useful units in the machinery of marketing manuscripts. On the other hand, most of them lead a precarious existence until they find a sufficient number of good clients, for their income is usually derived entirely from a fee based on the price brought by manuscripts. If they advertise for new clients they receive a great mass of unworthy material all of which must be read at an inordinate expense of time and effort. The temptation to charge a reading fee is strong, yet the precedents of the leading agents are against this practice and newcomers are afraid to risk a loss of prestige by making a charge for reading manuscripts except those of regular clients. There is some tendency to break away from these precedents they may not be worth preserving. We have been beseeched many times to assist in some way in finding a solution to the problem of the young writer, but it is just as difficult and costly for us to read manuscripts as for the agents to read them. We also should suffer loss of prestige if we should establish a literary agency and charge a reading fee. On the other hand, we can give a certain amount of marketing advice if the material submitted is carefully selected before it comes to us. The preliminary sifting and selection can apparently be done in one

way and one only. Writers must do it themselves through manuscript clubs. Only through some sort of national association of these clubs can any comprehensive plan be worked out.

The general outline of the plan is this: any group of six or more people may register their club as a provisional member of the Association; on or before May 1st, 1927, one manuscript selected from the work of all members as the most promising may be submitted to THE WRITER for free marketing services. This is limited to short fiction, to novels and to non-fiction book lengths (except collections of poetry) which have never before been submitted to editors. We make no guarantee that these manuscripts will be placed; on the other hand, we will make every effort to effect a sale of those which we consider worthy through our own connections with editors and publishers and through various reputable literary agents. If a manuscript is turned over by us to agents, it is understood that the author will pay to the agent the regular commission based on the price realized for the manuscript. THE WRITER itself will make no charge for this service and will collect no additional fee on the sale.

Application may now be made for provisional membership in the following form: National Association of Manuscript Clubs THE WRITER, Harvard Square, Cambridge, Mass. Gentlemen:

The

(name of club) of (name of city and state) hereby applies for provisional membership in the National Association of Manuscript Clubs. It is understood that, upon acceptance of this application, the members of this club are entitled to select by vote one manuscript from the work of its members and submit it to the editors of THE WRITER before May 1, 1927, for free marketing service and advice. A list of names and addresses of club members is enclosed. The officer undersigned is authorized to submit one manuscript as the official selection of the club.

(Signed)

(Officer)

(Address)

It may be necessary at any time to withdraw this offer if too many applications are received. Acceptance will be in order of application.

It is understood that this Association is purely temporary and experimental in nature. The experiment is to be tried only on demand of readers of THE WRITER who would like an attempt made to meet a problem which seems to demand solution. Whether the Association will be made permanent depends entirely on the success of the experiment. Clubs will be judged by the quality of work submitted, and it is quite probable that after May 1, the permanent organization, if effected, will be by invitation to those clubs which appear most promising. Units of any other national or local association are eligible for provisional admission. A small group or "inner circle" of a larger club may be enrolled under another name. As a test of the reception which such a movement might receive among publishers, I called upon Mr. Greenslet, editor of Houghton Mifflin Company, and discussed the matter with him. Here is the letter he wrote me as a result.

"Following our conversation the other afternoon, I am writing to say that this House is always not only willing but eager to read first manuscripts by new authors. We are, therefore, decidedly interested in your plan for work in connection with the manuscript clubs of the country and shall welcome the opportunity of considering anything that you can send us.

Passing to the question of the professional adviser, I do not claim that lectures by editors, authors, and poets may not be an important part of the activities of any writers' club, only that it should not be the sole activity. But ask yourself this: can any such speech by a successful writer possibly compare in interest or value with his informal criticism of a manuscript, however imperfect, that is read to him? You can learn more about his methods of work and how to employ the same methods by seeing him act creatively upon another's attempt at creation than you possibly can from hearing him talk, though he chatter on till doomsday.

For comparison, picture this scene. The pupils of a great sculptor have labored long

in imitating his finished work. One of them, daring greatly, strikes away from the models and tries the creation of a figure of his own in clay. The master enters, sees the composition, and calls his pupils around it. He breaks off the head, sets it at a slightly different angle, mending the crack roughly with clay. About the body he cuts a little here, adds a little there. It takes him perhaps three minutes. He says to the pupil whose work it is, "Now finish it off" and walks away. The students study in silence and changed posture and proportion of the figure. Rough and unfinished as it is, it now has the line and fire of life, where before it had been dead and unreal. They have learned more in that three minutes than they could have learned by listening to a hundred hours of lectures or copying a hundred models.

Literature in its essence I speak in particular of the artistic form of literature differs little from the other arts. If you can get a master craftsman to show you those few deft strokes you can learn what the pupils of the sculptor learn from him. For example, the professional writer's criticism of a manuscript might be more along this line-"The final speech of your heroine is not in character. You haven't convinced us that she would talk like that. No- don't change it it is essential to the plot. Prepare for it by proper grading. I notice two or three places in the story, here on page eight for instance, and on page twelve, second paragraph - where you can make her say something expressing a similar point of view. Then the reader won't be surprised when she talks as she does in the end." Could an author of standing occasionally be persuaded to join the criticism of a manuscript club meeting as a guest? Would he come if invited? The only way to find out is to try. Whenever I have talked the Manuscript Club idea to successful writers I have found them intensely interested. Most of them remark that they have never heard of such a movement, that it would have been of incomparable benefit to them in their earlyand later-development. Most successful

writers, too, feel rather keenly that their profession is far behind all others in the practical help it gives to aspirants. Many would like to be shown a way to serve effectively. I think some of them feel a little sense of shame that the portals of authorship are surrounded by the thousands of crooks and quacks that feed so gluttonously on honest ambition.

It was my intention in this article to discuss more thoroughly the possibilities in regard to the co-operative study of markets and the co-operation in the marketing of manuscripts. I am so limited in space, however, I must postpone it, touching instead on a few lesser topics.

I take it for granted that regular production must be one of the requirements of continued membership. A few loafers and dilettantes will soon drag down the morale of the club. At the same time revision and re-writing are even more important than original composition. Reworking of a story idea should fall in the same category as the first writing up of the idea which has received favorable comment. Most clubs meet bi-monthly or weekly. Naturally a large club should never be at a loss for material if all the members hold to a fair schedule of work. Indeed, in some cases, it has been found necessary to appoint a committee to select manuscripts for reading and criticism. But even though the production schedule brings in more material than can be criticized, no laxity in living up to the schedule should be permitted. Better make it a real privilege to have a manuscript read for criticism by having a committee select from those submitted only the best.

It is quite evident that the problem of regularity of work must always be a troublesome one, but it can be solved. Proper care in selection of members will go a long way toward solving it. No new member, I venture to suggest, should be elected until a complete story, play, or article of his authorship is submitted to the officers of the club. That much, at least, is necessary as an earnest

of future endeavor. When clubs grow so large as to become unwieldy, a division is advisable. Whether the best unit is six or twenty people I do not know, but I believe that it is somewhere between those two limits. When a club is split up the smaller units can be combined from time to time in full club meetings with successful authors as guests to discuss and criticise manuscripts which have been already discussed and selected by the smaller groups. Of course, this sort of subdivision requires more organization and is perhaps only possible in large centers of population. The whole problem of organization is, of course, much simplified if the person best fitted to consolidate the best interests of writers can be persuaded to take an active part in the movement. The librarian of the local public library is unquestionably that person.

I have been astounded that the typical public library is apparently so completely outside the active creative literary life of its community. This is not true everywhere, particularly in the far West, but it certainly is true in many places. Manuscript clubs are meeting everywhere but in libraries, sometimes in homes of members, and even, surprisingly, in hotels.

I receive many letters from people who wish to join manuscript clubs in their communities. Not being on the ground and being ignorant of personalities, I cannot take it upon myself to put them in touch with local groups, even if I could spare the time for ed to reply, "Go to your local librarian. He such a huge undertaking. I am always tempt

or she should be in intimate touch with the literary life of your community." If it is not so, we should make an attempt to make it so.

The library is the logical common meeting ground for everyone of literary interests. It is almost everywhere. The librarian, as trustee, is a key man in carrying out the whole program of the manuscript club. His co-operation will be invaluable in connection with a suggestion which I shall make next month anent co-operative marketing of manuscripts.

His active interest must be obtained. Go and have a talk with him at your first opportunity. If you belong to a manuscript club, tell him

about it. If you want to join one, give him your name. At least gain his interest and co-operation.

Quilp is ferocious and cunning to a degree, and in his treatment of Kit Nubbles, a repulsive conspirator. Yet, we hate Sampson Brass so much, that we rejoice when Quilp makes that unworthy limb of the law smoke more than is good for him, and drink boiling hot rum from a saucepan. And there is a little humorous incident connected with Quilp which is so ludicrous that for the moment he is almost likeable.

He has been away from home for some time without a word of explanation, and is supposed to be dead. Sampson Brass is at his house preparing a descriptive advertisement of the lost body in the company of Mrs. Quilp and her mother, Mrs. Jiniwin. At this particularly appropriate moment Quilp returns and hiding himself behind the bed-room

door which communicates with the sittingroom, is able both to see and hear. Sampson Brass has got as far as the nose. "A question now arises with relation to his nose." "Flat," said Mrs. Jiniwin. "Aquiline!" cried Quilp, thrusting in his head and striking the feature with his fist. "Aquiline, you hag! Do you see it? Do you call this flat? Do you? Eh?"

Of course Quilp dies the death he deserves, but we have that one incident as a chalk in his favour - he has made us laugh.

That is the magic of Dickens: that out of the crudest and most unpromising dross he can extract, by his alchemy, the gold of humour.

Edwin Charles. SOME DICKENS WOMEN. (Frederick A. Stokes Company)

"Art," says Wells, "that does not argue nor demonstrate nor discuss is merely the craftsman's impudence." The novel that aims only at a beautiful picture of the social scene by the selective process, taking this detail and omitting that, is, he repeats many times over, certain to pass. Henry James, for example, sought "to pick the straws out of the hair of Life" before he painted her, forgetting that "without the straws she is no longer the mad woman we love." If the novel is to mean anything, it must leave in all the straws; the characters must be no impersonal people, but

people with political opinions, religious opinions, partisanships, lusts, and whims, which may be discussed, analyzed, and illuminated in unrestricted freedom. As proclaimed by Wells, the novel is a proper medium for canvassing all social and political problems as they arise. He professes not to teach but to point out, plead, and display. He would fill in, build up, the collective mind. That is what he has used the novel for primarily.

Wilbur Cross. THE MIND OF H. G. WELLS. (Yale Review for January)

DE is one of the most indefinite terms

OPE

in English verse. Almost any poem of fair length and elevated subject matter may be called an ode. Yet an analysis of the various works in this class reveals three distinct types, which we may name the Stanzaic Ode, the Pindaric Ode, and the Irregular Ode. Since these poems are too long for quotation here, I will refer my readers to the Oxford Book of English Verse in which will be found all the poems I shall cite as examples.

The Stanzaic Ode was originally an attempt in English to reproduce the effect of the Latin odes of Horace. Andrew Marvell's Horatian Ode upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland is a fair example; much better is Collins's Ode to Evening, one of the finest unrhymed poems in our language. In this Ode, so delicate in sound, so rich in imagery, our ears are gratified in spite of the absence of rhyme. No unrhymed lyric until Tennyson's Tears, Idle Tears can be compared with Collins's lovely ode. The Stanzaic Ode, however, is generally much more complicated in pattern. Spenser's Prothalamion and Epithalamion, Milton's Hymn on the Morning of Christ's Nativity, among many others, might well have been termed odes. With the four golden odes of Keats, Melancholy, Autumn, the Grecian Urn, and the Nightingale, the Stanzaic Ode becomes established in full perfection.

The Pindaric Ode is an attempt to reproduce in English the choric ode of the Greek poet Pindar. The basic form is tripartite, consisting of a strophe and an antistrophe (two stanzas identical in form) and an epode (a third stanza differing in form from the first two). This pattern is then repeated any number of times, all the strophes and antistrophes throughout the poem being identical in form, and all the epodes corresponding in like manner. The Pindaric Ode is too complex for general use. An early example is Ben Jonson's Ode to the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that Noble Pair, Sir Lucius Carey and Sir H. Morrison. The grandest of our Pindaric Odes are Thomas Gray's Bard and Progress of Poesy.

The Irregular Ode had its origin in a misunderstanding of the Pindaric form. The seventeenth century poet Cowley failed to recognize the identical correspondence between the various divisions of the Pindaric Ode and invented a form in which repetition of set patterns plays no part. Dryden followed suit with his Song for St. Cecilia's Day and his Alexander's Feast. The best known of these irregular odes is undoubtedly Wordsworth's Ode on the Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, wherein the shifting music skilfully and faithfully follows the shifting mood. So successful