]xxii MEMOIR. 
‘«« Well now, in the first place,’ he said, ‘you had better follow the 
counsels of Murray. Publishers, you know, are always better judges on these 
matters than authors. I'll tell you what once happened to me, through 
acting contrary to publisher’s advice. The transaction was with old Murray, 
not the present one. It was when we were bringing out the first edition of my 
Principles. ‘We had come to the third volume, and Murray said, ‘‘ Now we 
shall print several hundred copies less of this than of the preceding volumes.”’ 
I was very much surprised at this. ‘Why! how! deprive purchasers from the 
commencement of the chance of completing their copies ? No, I can’t consent 
to that.’’ Nevertheless, Murray was firm; to do otherwise, he said, would 
entail certain loss. Well, I agreed to take the risk on my own shoulders, 
and the consequence was I burnt my fingers severely. Precisely the number 
of copies which Murray had recommended me to print was sold. The rest 
were left on the shelves, curtailing severely my gains on the whole work. But 
when a second edition came out, including all three volumes, it sold by 
thousands. I was a youngster then, and the loss of money was of more 
consequence to me than it would be now.’ 
‘He asked me how many copies I had printed of the first edition. I told 
him 1250. This question seemed to be put for the purpose of secretly compar- 
ing my literary success with hisown. And the result seemed to be satisfactory, 
for he became more frank than ever, and began to praise my book: 
**«T find it exceedingly interesting, and I hope you will not abridge any of 
the natural history parts, which, to me, seem the most important. Do you 
know Sir Charles Bunbury?’ I told him I had been introduced to him, but 
I forgot when and where. ‘Well, he likes your book amazingly, and is very 
full of it. What a striking account you give of the landslips. It is very 
interesting to us geologists, and’—turning round and speaking very con- 
fidentially—‘ your description is remarkably well done.’ 
‘He recommended me, in the second edition, to alter or explain every 
natural history name that is not at once intelligible to every one. ‘I have 
always noticed in the travels of naturalists that they forget this important 
matter—that the names and terms so familiar to them are unintelligible to 
the general public. Now if a man is relating about North Africa, or North 
America, it isn’t so bad; for he has to speak of oaks, elms, deer, buffalo, 
and so forth; but when he is a tropical traveller the animals and plants 
are, for the most part, strange to the average English reader. I noticed 
this particularly in reading Hooker’s Azmalayan Fournals. Page after 
page the occurrence of botanical words that, without a phrase of description 
or explanation, were to me and others without meaning. This in time 
becomes wearisome, and we throw aside the book. Now you have got 
over this difficulty pretty well; but strike out everything that cannot be 
made intelligible with a few words of description.’ 
‘«*Second editions are ticklish things, he continued. ‘ You know it is 
proverbial in the trade that publishers lose by a second edition what they gain 
by a first. Even with Sir Walter Scott look what happened with one of his 
works—Demonology. First impression of ten thousand copies was cleared 
off at once; but when the second edition of ten thousand was printed, not 
a single copy was sold. The stock remained until it dribbled off at low 
prices a long time afterwards. Publishers know best how to deal with the 
