Now my dear old man this sounds like awfully cold comfort.
But it is the wisest idea your mother has
got. I confess I have GREAT faith in you--and I try to
judge you as if you were not my son. I think you are going to
take a high place among American authors, but I do not think
you are going to do it by articles like that you sent to The
Current. The qualities which I think will bring it to you,
you don't seem to value at all. They are your dramatic eye.
I mean your quick perception of character and of the way
character shows itself in looks, tones, dress, etc., and in
your keen sympathy--with all kinds of people--Now, these are
the requisites for a novelist. Added to that your humour.

You ought to make a novelist of the first class. But you must
not expect to do it this week or next. A lasting, real
success takes time, and patient, steady work. Read Boz's
first sketches of "London Life" and compare them with "Sydney
Carton" or "David Copperfield" and you will see what time and
hard work will do to develop genius.

I suppose you will wonder why I am moved to say all this? It
is, I think, because of your saying "the article sent to St.
Nicholas was the best you would be able to do for years to
come" and I saw you were going to make it a crucial test of
your ability. That is, forgive me, nothing but nonsense.
Whatever the article may be, you may write one infinitely
superior to it next week or month. Just in proportion as you
feel more deeply, or notice more keenly, and as you acquire
the faculty of expressing your feelings or observations more
delicately and powerfully which faculty must come into