he lived, that he had some notably strong points in his character, but _don’t_ forget, for Heaven’s sake, to mention the “vermin”! For the Ishbosheth “cult” see nothing in a sunset, but much in a flea. Hence when we read the criticism of a “strong” book, over the signature of one of the Ishbosheth, we know what to expect. All the bad, low, villainous and soiled side of sickly or insane human nature will be in it, and nothing of the healthful or sound. For, to be vicious is to be ill--to commit crime is to be mentally deformed--and the “strong” book of the Ishbosheth only deals with phases of sickness and lunacy. There are other “strong” books in the world, thank Heaven--strong books which treat strongly of noble examples of human life, love and endeavour--books like those of Scott and Dickens and Brontë and Eliot--books which make the world all the better for reading them. But they are not books admired of the Ishbosheth. And as the Ishbosheth have their centres in the current press, they are not praised in the newspapers. Binding as the union of the Printers is all over the world, I suppose they cannot take arms against the Ishbosheth and decline to print anything under this Masonic sign? If they could, what a purification there would be--what a clean, refreshing world of books--and perhaps of men and women! No more vicious heroes with short legs; no more painfully-injured milkmaids; no more “twins,” earthly or heavenly--while possibly a new _Villette_ might bud and blossom forth--another _Fortunes of Nigel_, another brilliant _Vanity Fair_--and books which contain wit without nastiness, tenderness without erotics, simplicity without affectation, and good English without slang, might once again give glory to literature. But this millennium will not be till the “strong” book of the Ishbosheth ceases to find a publisher, and the Ishbosheth themselves are seen in their true colours, and fully recognized by the public to be no more than they are--a mere group of low sensualists, who haunt Fleet Street bars and restaurants, and who out of that sodden daily and nightly experience get a few temporary jobs on the Press, and “pose” as a cult and censorship of art. And fortunately the very phrase “strong book” has become so much their own that it has now only to be used in order to warn off the public from mere pot-house opinion. ON THE MAKING OF LITTLE POETS