The extensive plain over which this flood is spread seems even to
be extending its limits, and a spongy soil of unlimited capacity is
ready ever to absorb the fresh advance of waves. It is indeed striking
to observe how authors and men of talent have increased, so vastly out
of all proportion with other classes of men. Observing it, the political
economist may well shout 'Io triumphe!' for that even in so delicate and
intangible a matter as intellectual gifts, the famous doctrine of supply
and demand is so thoroughly carried out. We raise, however, no hue and
cry after 'poor trash.' Neither have we the blood-thirsty wish to run to
ground the panting scribbler, or to adorn ourselves with the glories of
his 'brush.' Let those who countenance him by reading his works, and who
can reconcile the purchase thereof with their consciences, answer to
their fellow men for the inevitable consequences. But it must be
confessed that there is in this department a sad want. All readers of
moderate discrimination must have felt it painfully. In the literature
of fiction we need organization. How do we know a good tea from a bad?
Is it by the universal consent of the good people of China--by a
democratic 'censeatur' of the celestial nation? Not at all. Every
variety is tasted by men who rinse their mouths after each swallow, and
the comparative merits are gauged and graduated by adepts, who make it
the sole business and profession of their lives. A similar process we
need in fiction.
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