Setting aside all question of literary values, there is one notorious novel which seems to be as indecent in some places as the novel “According to St. Paul.” The former--it must be left nameless here--was sold openly for several years in London, and, so far as one knows, is still sold openly. The latter, in its original form, at any rate, was extinguished twice over at Bow Street. Now the distinction between the two novels lies almost wholly in the quality of the writing. If this question of quality were to rigidly decide the result of every prosecution, there would be no need to say any more. But it forms an untrustworthy precedent, battered down in dozens of other cases. Consequently, the pursuivant of letters is left confronted by doubt and uncertainty. If he be endowed with skill, he is forced to use such skill in evading much which may be artistic and human in its import. He must treat his subject with great circumspection, hamper himself at every point, and leave his best efforts untried. For, after all, “best efforts” in the writing of novels are often those produced by the treatment of passion, not necessarily indelicately. Passion is, however, a pitfall to the English or American novelist. A writer who knows “things” has a better chance of escaping difficulty than one who flounders into print on a meagre social knowledge. This is the utmost that can be said, and it is not satisfactory either to the writers themselves, or to the publishers. In short, what really seems to be needed is a system of censorship. It would protect publishers and printers, and save writers some anxiety. It should, perhaps, take the form of a small department, non-political in character, with a staff of qualified persons, whose duty it would be to read and “pass” or “reject,” subject to alteration, all manuscripts submitted by publishers.