32 WANDERINGS AND PONDERINGS 



be strange that the ocean itself is luminous ? If the pseudo- 

 philosophers were to manage their wonder aright, they would 

 temper it with adoration rather than sophistry. 



Chapter III. 



[The Insect-Hunter becometh an Author.] 



Shortly after my return from France I became an author, 

 a very important era in a man's existence, and one not likely 

 to be forgotten. It was the practice occasionally to read 

 original essays at the meetings of the Entomological Club, 

 (which had not then a Magazine of its own,) and I composed 

 and read my maiden essay. I was recommended to publish 

 it, and with considerable coyness I consented. A mutual 

 friend, a sort of stepping-stone in the wide gulf between 

 me and the great editor of a magazine, undertook to hand it 

 to the latter personage. Shall I ever forget the next magazine- 

 day? with what impatience I hastened to Paternoster-row — 

 with what glee I laid out three shillings and sixpence — with 

 what tremor I cut the leaves, with what eagerness I skimmed 

 over the whole number without any previous reference to the 

 " contents " — with what disappointment I found that my con- 

 tribution had been omitted ! Another magazine-day came and 

 went in like manner ; a third, and a fourth, and still my 

 invaluable contribution did not see the light ; fourteen shillings 

 had been laid out in the hopes of having my vanity gratified, 

 and I began to feel cool on the subject, and resolved not to 

 buy any more. It is the right way to be indifferent; the 

 number which I did not buy contained my essay, or rather a 

 portion of it. The editor had cut it in pieces at the paragraphs, 

 and published about half the paragraphs in a lump as a com- 

 plete article ; the remainder served as occasional stopgaps for 

 the next twelvemonth. By this sage device the connexion, or 

 rather the brains, were completely knocked out of my essay; 

 and proud as we always are of our own performances, I must 

 confess I think mine far below par. I have since wished a hun- 

 dred times that it had been burnt by the editor rather than thus 



