Once upon a time, not far removed from yesterday, there lived a poor
book reviewer named Abner Skipp. He was a kindly man and an excellent
husband and a most congenial soul to chat with, for he possessed a store
of information on the most remote and bootless subjects drawn from his
remarkable library--an accumulation of volumes sent to him for review,
and which he had been unable to dispose of to the dealers in second-hand
books. For you are to understand that too little literary criticism is
done on a cash basis. Occasionally a famous author, like Mr. Howells, is
paid real money to write something about Mr. James, or Mr. James is
substantially rewarded for writing about Mr. Howells, and heads of
departments and special workers are handsomely remunerated; but the
journeyman reviewer is paid in books; and these are the source of his
income.
Thus, every morning in the busy season, or perhaps once a week when
trade was dull, Abner Skipp journeyed from the suburbs to the city with
his pack of books on his back, and made the rounds of the second-hand
shops, disposing of his wares for whatever they would fetch. Novels,
especially what are known as the "best sellers," commanded good prices
if they were handled, like fruit, without delay; but they were such
perishable merchandise that oftentimes a best seller was dead before
Abner could get it to market; and as he frequently reviewed the same
novel for half a dozen employers, and therefore had half a dozen copies
of it in his pack, the poor wretch was sadly out of pocket, being
compelled to sell the dead ones to the junkman for a few pennies.
Abner Skipp was an industrious artisan and very skillful at his trade;
working at top speed, he could review more than a hundred books in a day
of eight hours. In a contest of literary critics held in Madison Square
Garden, New York, Abner won first prize in all three events--reviewing
by publisher's slip, reviewing by cover, and reviewing by title page.
But shortly after this achievement he had had the misfortune to sprain
his right arm in reviewing a new edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica,
which accident so curtailed his earning power that he fell behind in a
money way, and was compelled to mortgage his home. But Abner Skipp was a
cheerful, buoyant soul; and as his arm grew better and he was again able
to wield the implements of his trade, he set bravely to work to mend his
broken fortunes.