When the note was written Mr. Brown felt that it was cold;--but then it behoves an editor to be cold. A gushing editor would ruin any publication within six months. Young women are very nice; pretty young women are especially nice; and of all pretty young women, clever young women who write novels are perhaps as nice as any;--but to an editor they are dangerous. Mr. Brown was at this time about forty, and had had his experiences. The letter was cold, but he was afraid to make it warmer. It was sent;--and when he received the following answer, it may fairly be said that his editorial hair stood on end: “DEAR MR. BROWN, “I hate you and your compliments. That sort of communication means nothing, and I won’t send you my MS. unless you are more in earnest about it. I know the way in which rolls of paper are shoved into pigeon-holes and left there till they are musty, while the writers’ hearts are being broken. My heart may be broken some day, but not in that way. “I won’t come to you between two and three on Friday. It sounds a great deal too like a doctor’s appointment, and I don’t think much of you if you are only at your work one hour in the week. Indeed, I won’t go to you at all. If an interview is necessary you can come here. But I don’t know that it will be necessary. “Old X. is a fool and knows nothing about it. My own approval is to me very much more than his. I don’t suppose he’d know the inside of a book if he saw it. I have given the very best that is in me to my work, and I know that it is good. Even should you say that it is not I shall not believe you. But I don’t think you will say so, because I believe you to be in truth a clever fellow in spite of your ‘compliments’ and your ‘two and three o’clock on a Friday.’ “If you want to see my MS., say so with some earnestness, and it shall be conveyed to you. And please to say how much I shall be paid for it, for I am as poor as Job. And name a date. I won’t be put off with your ‘some time must elapse.’ It shall see the light, or, at least, a part of it, within six months. That is my intention. And don’t talk nonsense to me about clever novels not suiting magazines,--unless you mean that as an excuse for publishing so many stupid ones as you do. “You will see that I am frank; but I really do mean what I say. I want it to come out in the ‘Olympus;’ and if we can I shall be so happy to come to terms with you. “Yours as I find you, “JOSEPHINE DE MONTMORENCI.” “Thursday--King-Charles Street.”