No; there was something in this article that made it valuable for magazine purposes. It was well calculated to please those who revel in that sniveling Anglo-Saxon hypocrisy and humbug about British virtue and the wickedness of the French people. Mr. Rhodes was employed by Dr. Holland because he was probably the only living creature who could stand on the spot from which has come so much that has made the world brighter and better and happier, and utter his silly platitudes about “young men draining the cup of pleasure to the dregs.” I say that the editor of _Scribner’s_ had just as good a reason for publishing the Quartier Latin essay as Mr. Bonner had for being “down on stepmothers” and refusing all poems that treated of them: _Dr. Holland was down on grisettes_. CHAPTER VI. THE DAWN OF THE JOHNSONIAN PERIOD. When the good Dr. Holland passed away, his mantle descended upon the shoulders of Mr. R. U. Johnson, the foremost of his disciples, and one who had literally sat at the feet of the great master of the eighth decade of the present century, and learned from his lips the deathless principles of modern magazine editing. Since then Mr. Johnson has, in his capacity of associate editor of the _Century Magazine_, so skillfully blended the methods of the canny Scotch _Ledger_ editor with those of Dr. Holland that he has not only kept his own periodical well in the lead, but has also set the pace for American literature and compelled his rivals to watch his movements at all times with the closest care, and frequently to imitate him. I first heard of the existence of Mr. Johnson, who is unquestionably the one dominant figure in American literature of to-day, about fourteen years ago, just as I was beginning to learn something about the trade of writing. I had placed in the hands of a literary friend--now well known as one of the most successful of the modern school of story-writers--the manuscript of a story which dealt with the criminal life of the lower east side of the town, and was wondering how soon I was to awake and find myself famous when my manuscript was returned to me with a brief note from my friend, in which he said: “I read your story through yesterday, and was so much pleased with it that my first impulse was to take it to the _Century Magazine_. Indeed, I would have done so had I not remembered at that moment that Johnson does not like low life; so you had better try one of the daily papers.” “_Johnson does not like low life!_” That was encouraging news for a young man who believed that literary methods had not materially altered since the days when Oliver Goldsmith wrote _The Vicar of Wakefield_. The pen fell from my hand--it happened to be employed just then on a story dealing with life in a Pell Street opium-joint--and I said to myself: “Merciful heavens! must I devote my life to the delineation of what are called society types, simply because Johnson--whoever he may be--does not like low life?”