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THE DIURNAL REVOLUTIONS OF DAVIE DIDDLEDOFT, During the Course of his Initiation into the Mysteries of London Life, BY SIR TICKELEM TENDER, Bart.

CHAPTER IX.

Green goslings, and prodigious memories-Fribble's Magazine-Davie's wee bit monuscreppie rejected-Penrailway philosophizeth-Mr. Augustus Frederick Namby, the Lyric Poet -Davie engaged as a Reporter to the Morning Gammoner-"Twa vollems,

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three?"-Monsieur La-JeuneFrance-O'Flaherty's Story- Davie flustered-How to report from memory-Pressing Expressing-Personation-Wayfaring amusements of the Gentlemen of "The Fourth Estate"Davie in a dilemma-Davie dismissed

mopolitan," or, if sentimental, in a score of romantic tales, songs, and ballads.

To a very strong, but ill-defined ambition, Davie united a prodigious faculty of retention, the existence of which my readers may have slightly suspected from his constant habit of quoting from Shakspere. Now, this is a most unfortunate circumstance in youth; I say it most advisedly. The faculty of memory, in excess, is never found to co-exist with a proportional amount of judgment, ex

—Davie at the bar of the House of cept in geniuses of the highest order.

Commons.

I STRONGLY advise all those who are desirous of the reputation of skilful raconteurs, and in whose lives there have been interesting passages not exactly fitted for publication, to beware how they unbosom themselves in the presence of young gentlemen of a literary turn. So sure as there are green goslings sprouting up in Scotland and elsewhere into fullgrown geese, with ample pinions, so sure as there are 90,000 gallons of ink manufactured weekly in London and its vicinity, so certainly are the said incidents destined to flourish speedily in the shape of "Adventures," "Reminiscences," "Passages in the Life of Peter Priggins, a Poet," "Autobiography of a Cos

VOL. II.

A Crichton, a Sir Walter Raleigh, a Johnson or a Gibbon, all men of prodigious retentive powers, had commensurate reasoning faculties; but the transcendant organization of such minds is "caviare to the general;" and no mistake is more common than that by which parents and masters attribute to schoolboys, and anxious relatives to young men on the threshold of life, all the materials for achieving an exalted position in life merely from the parrot facility with which they retail fo.th the ideas, and frequently the very words, of a multitude of different authors, without the capacity of framing or giving utterance to one original thought. Singular tenacity of memory in adults is perfectly analogous to precocity in children-an unfavourable rather than

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a favourable symptom for the general health and vigour of their intellectual faculties; and it was chiefly this hollow gift that had persuaded Davie into the belief that he was a man of genius.

During the progress of Penrailway's narrative, Davie had listened with the most acute attention, and when he threw himself into bed upon his return to the "Cawledonian Cawffee Hoos," he went over the whole story in his mind from beginning to end, almost word for word.

"Dinged, but I have it," quoth the young adventurer: "the idee's mogneeficent. A'll write it oot, an' pet it en Frebble's Mogazine. Et'll be an unco guid dosh fer a begennin'!"

And as he hugged his bolster and courted his pillow, pluming himself upon the " 'canny" arrangement, Davie fell asleep, murmuring with Macbeth,

"Ef et were den', when tis den', then 'twere

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A snore concluded the quotation. Davie was fast asleep, and dreaming of jumping to as high a point as ever his countryman Scot reached upon the "Peaks o' Parnossus."

Next morning he was up at seven, and before noon had completed the transcription of the story. Then with a high heart, and a throbbing pulse, he proceeded to Fribble's the bookseller's with his manuscript, in the confident expectation that at the first perusal Fribble would hail him to his side, and hug him to his bosom as one of his most esteemed contributors.

Fribble was a countryman of Davie's, who had migrated from the Land o' Cakes some twenty years before, and established himself as a

bookseller in the metropolis with considerable success. His magazine was in some estimation, owing chiefly to a dash of impudence on the part of his contributors, whose decisions assumed to be ex-cathedral on all matters of taste and literary criticism, as who should say;

I am Sir Oracle,

And when I ope my mouth, let no dog bark?"

Lumbering Latinisms and affected Græcisms were the staple of this periodical; the tutelary geniuses that presided over its birth, rocked it in its cradle, swaddled its ricketty limbs, and spoon-fed it in the era of pap and worsted boots, from which it had not yet escaped, were Pedantry and Affectation; and its motto might well have been chosen from the coterie of French pseudo-philosophes, whose final discomfiture was not more complete than that which overhung Fribble and his fasciculus of witlings:

"Nul n'aura de l'esprit,

Que nous et nos amis !' It was a hopeful enterprise of Davie's to expect that the contribution of a raw Scotch youth was to secure immediate insertion in an established periodical. But his faith in his own powers was at this moment suffitains, at least to plant himself upon ciently great, if not to move mounthe summit of Olympus. Poor Davie!

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hour expired. Of course Fribble was without-that is to say, he was within; but his shopman, acting in conformity with general instructions, did not choose to say so.

"Weel, et canna be helpit. A'maun retern en an 'oor," quoth Davie.

The same process was repeated three or four times, until Davie's unflinching perseverance (a quality for which Scotsmen are conspicuous) at last completely tired out Fribble, and to save his establishment from Davie's perpetual visitations, he finally determined to give him an audience.

This was short, business-like, decisive. Fribble fenced off his young "kintramon's" claims to consideration, but with a dubious politeness, which allowed Davie to put his own construction on the reception, and this was of course "couleur de rose."

The paper, quoth Fribble, would be immediately placed in the editors' hands, and the result of their decision speedily communicated to Davie. The latter was hazarding some general literary conversation, when Fribble dexterously cut matters short with "Permit me to take down your address, in order that I may save you the trouble of calling, and communicate to you at once the editors' decision."

Davie gave him the address; and Fribble with a rapid bow-so rapid as to prevent Davie from edging in another word-retired to an inner apartment.

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For three days Davie remained on the tenterhooks of suspense-a posture in which he writhed and winced no little; but he was sustained by an inward consciousness of " deegious capocity!" The contribution was sure to be accepted; but he was naturally anxious for the announcement of that event in due form. The fourth morning a packet was placed in Davie's hands. With trembling fingers he broke the seal, and horror of horrors! his own story stared him in the face. Good lack! good lack! It was a dire spectacle to see how blue Davie looked, how his heart became suddenly contracted, how the colour fled from his cheeks and lips, how his nether jaw fell, how his hands shook; how the rejected manuscript,

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"Well," quoth Penrailway, smoking his cigar as usual; " and so you thought to carry Fribble by storm (puff). D-d amusing! Why, man, do you really imagine that your story it! I like to be frank; it's always was ever read!-(puff)-Not a bit of my way-(puff)-Fribble has his regular magazine hands, from whom he takes papers as he needs 'em; and had you thrown a shilling in the sea, you might as well have

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and expected it to come up again in the gills of the first cod you caught, which indeed would be very like a whale"-(puff). Fribble's note, you see, is entirely a printed form, with the exception of the date and the figures '67,859,'-(puff). These figures, you must know, are inserted according to Fribble's fancy. The next rejected communication which he returns will probably be numbered 667,899'-(puff). Fribble has taken care to insert the figures both at top and bottom—(puff)— -so that they may not by possibility escape your eye, and to denote what a magnificently multitudinous assemblage of papers passes through his hands. Of course the numbering is a lie. Your's may probably be the fourth or fifth thousandth paper (puff) which fresh importations, raw arrivals, d-d fools from the country-pardon me (puff) but I like to be frank-it's al

ways my way (puff, puff, puff) have sent in to Fribble. But they are d-d soon cured of their scribblomania. By the time they have sent their fourth or fifth paper (puff) all with the same fate-they leave off altogether, with the exception of those who are downright mad, and who have been often known to threaten to blow out an editor's brains in the event of his refusal to insert their lucubrations. Fribble's numerical nonsence is all a part of the same universal system of humbug! Now, Diddledoft, (puff) I'll tell you a thing, and a d-d queer thing. I happen to be on the most intimate terms with the editor of one of the leading periodicals of the day; and he has assured me, upon his solemn honour, that, out of upwards of a thousand papers received from chance contributors (puff) during the course of a single year, not two were inserted! Fact, I do assure you. So, you see this is not the ground for you to choose. They don't read 'em, man; they won't read 'em, man; they can't read 'em, man. How the d-l could they? (puff) It would require a man to have more eyes than Argus, more time than Saturn, more patience than Job! (puff) Yet fools will write-pardon me (puff) but it's my way.-Yes, they'll write, and send what they have written to one magazine after another, and be rejected and re-rejected; yet they'll think, d-n 'em, they've a chance still! (Here he flung the residue of his cigar in the fire.) There's one magazine that proclaims regularly each month that the proprietors won't pay a penny for contributions. Yet month after month there are shoals of papers sent in, with an intimation that the writers 'expect to be remunerated at the usual terms.' Every d-d scribbler thinks that there is something peculiarly meritorious in his own compositions-something to break through the most rigorous cordon; and he sends and is rejected accordingly. No, Diddledoft, this is not the thing for you. Try your hand at reporting. Tom Penrailway has given me a favourable opinion of your capacity; and I shall write you a letter to my friend Cleverman of the Morning Gammoner. Tom in

forms me that there is a vacancy; and, if you succeed upon trial, I think this will ensure you an engagement."

And Penrailway forthwith dashed off a letter, which he sealed, and handed to Davie.

Fortified with this document, Davie set out for the Morning Gammoner Office, musing as he went along on the insight which Penrailway had given him into the mode of transacting business in the principal literary establishments of London :—

"Efa had ainly kenned sae muckle," ejaculated Davie, "whiles that lettle jockanapes Fribble stood girnin' ot me wi' his dom politeness in the shoap, a'm blest ef a wud na hae

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"Mester Penrailway," said Davie, a hope to be excusit, but ba the Loar', et's Frebble!" said Davie, as he bolted off from Penrailway's side, into the middle of the street, with uplifted cane, and eyes starting from their sockets.

Fribble was a sharp little man, very consequential, though paltry in person; and his quick eye having perceived Davie the moment the latter made towards him, he threw himself into a cab with incredible rapidity, and drove off helter-skelter, leaving Davie to expend his rage in vain menaces with his cane.

"Why, what the deuce can have bewitched you, Diddledoft?" said Penrailway, as Davie rejoined him. "Et's that dom reeptile, Frebble, that-that-that—”

"That what?" said Penrailway, "That didn't insert a paper of your's in his magazine?"

Davie coloured like beet-root. Penrailway and a gentleman who accompanied him both laughed immoderately.

"Et's no precisely thot," said Davie, "but the kalpie wadna sae muckle as read it, an' sent it bock wi' a bar'faced laie, an' a fegger of saxty-seeven thoosan' upon it, as if it was nae better nor the saxty-seeven thoosan' ithers he has rejactit!"

A fresh burst of laughter hailed this announcement.

"Hoot_awa, mon," said Davie, "you wad na laugh sae,

"Or your imagination maun be fool
As Velcan's steethy!'

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serting any thing in the periodicals, except popular prose sketches."

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Popelir!" quoth Davie. "A wad na let the best maun that aver sauld buiks behind a coonter pit fattars on ma genius!"

"And more than that," said Penrailway, "you must make a deuced deal of interest with publishers or editors, or both, before you need expect to have a line inserted. If your chance productions were pure as gold that has thrice passed through the crucible, they are sure not to be inserted-uncertain even that they will be read, and simply because they are chance productions, and do not come recommended." "Yes-yes;" said Namby, with a quiet laugh. "Thanks for the perusal!'"

"If you have a notion of doing any thing in the magazine line," said Penrailway, "I should strongly recommend you to court the publishers, and toady the editors."

"Na!" said Davie.

Na, let the candied tengue leck abserd poamp,

An' crook the pregnant henges o' the knee,

Whar' threft may follow fawning!"" "A'll nane o' it; ma saul, na! Weel, in a' my boarn days! What a strenge warl' we leeve in! The lost thing a did afore a left Glasgie, was to tern owre to thot pert o' Goadwin's Cawleb Weelliams, whar' he maks Cawleb subseest ba scribblin' fer a mogazine; an' the editor there says, thof he disna muckle care for poetry, he's open for any amoont o'pheelosophical essays, an' shoart tales. De'il spet me af a thocht there'd be ony defficulty wi' Frebble!"

Namby laughed; and Davie did not seem over well pleased.

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My dear Diddledoft," said Penrailway, "it is not to established works of fiction you are to look for an initiation into the mysteries of modern London life. Godwin wrote during the French revolution; and great as was the change which came over the face of the political world at that period, a still greater change has visited the literary world since. Writers were then comparatively few

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