If my memory serves me, Mr. R. R. Bowker was the earliest
critic to write some friendly words in the "Evening Mail;" but at
first my venture was very generally ignored. Then some unknown
friend marked an influential journal published in the interior of
the State and mailed it so timely that it reached me on Christmas
eve. I doubt if a book was ever more unsparingly condemned than
mine in that review, whose final words were, "The story is
absolutely nauseating." In this instance and in my salad days I
took pains to find out who the writer was, for if his view was
correct I certainly should not engage in further efforts to make
the public ill. I discovered the reviewer to be a gentleman for
whom I have ever had the highest respect as an editor, legislator,
and honest thinker. My story made upon him just the impression he
expressed, and it would be very stupid on my part to blink the
fact. Meantime, the book was rapidly making for itself friends and
passing into frequent new editions. Even the editor who condemned
the work would not assert that those who bought it were an
aggregation of asses.
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