I have been using the same bank branch for the lasteight years. From time to time, someone I've neverheard of before sends me a letter (spelling my namewrong) to tell me what a pleasure it is to have me as aspecial customer. No matter how hard they try toimprove their "personalized" service, however, banksare pretty much the same all over, and my bank is reallyno different from the rest. So why do I still bank thereeven though two new, competing banks have recentlyopened much closer to where I live? Convenience? These, it may be said, are reflections which I, being an old novelist, might make useful to myself for discontinuing my work, but can hardly be needed by those tyros of whom I have spoken. That they are applicable to myself I readily admit, but I also find that they apply to many beginners. Some of us who are old fail at last because we are old. It would be well that each of us should say to himself, I know no more disagreeable trouble into which an author may plunge himself than of a quarrel with his critics, or any more useless labour than that of answering them. It is wise to presume, at any rate, that the reviewer has simply done his duty, and has spoken of the book according to the dictates of his conscience. Nothing can be gained by combating the reviewer鈥檚 opinion. If the book which he has disparaged be good, his judgment will be condemned by the praise of others; if bad, his judgment will he confirmed by others. Or if, unfortunately, the criticism of the day be in so evil a condition generally that such ultimate truth cannot be expected, the author may be sure that his efforts made on behalf of his own book will not set matters right. If injustice be done him, let him bear it. To do so is consonant with the dignity of the position which he ought to assume. To shriek, and scream, and sputter, to threaten actions, and to swear about the town that he has been belied and defamed in that he has been accused of bad grammar or a false metaphor, of a dull chapter, or even of a borrowed heroine, will leave on the minds of the public nothing but a sense of irritated impotence. 鈥極r it may be about the bouquet,鈥?continued his wife. 鈥榁ery likely he has found out that the princess has some favourite flower, in which case it would be only right to have it made of that instead of carnations and gypso-something, and I could say, 鈥淵our favourite flower, your Royal Highness,鈥?or something of the sort. Pray open your letter, Thomas, and see what it is.鈥? 婷婷色香五月综合缴缴情 And you were not in London? And then there came for him the direct glance, a little dim yet, with the 鈥榗lear shining after rain鈥?beaming through it. But for all that The Three Clerks was a good novel. Lord Inverbroom held out his hand. But my book, though it was right in its views on this subject 鈥?and wrong in none other as far as I know 鈥?was not a good book. I can recommend no one to read it now in order that he may be either instructed or amused 鈥?as I can do that on the West Indies. It served its purpose at the time, and was well received by the public and by the critics.