It is interesting to note, in these and other extracts, how the
young writer is constantly tracing the analogy between the facts
of everyday life about him, and moral and intellectual truths.
A little later he began to knit these fragments together into
essays, and to send the essays to the "Saturday Press" under
such titles as "Deep," and "A Thought on Culture." There is a
good deal of stating the same thing in diverse ways. The writer
seems to be led on and on to seek analogies which, for the most
part, are felicitous; occasionally crudities and unnecessarily
homely comparisons betray his unformed taste. The first three
paragraphs of "Deep" give a fair sample of the essay:--
Deep authors? Yes, reader, I like deep authors, that is, authors
of great penetration, reach, and compass of thought; but I must not
be bored with a sense of depth--must not be required to strain my
mental vision to see into the bottom of a well; the fountain must
flow out at the surface, though it come from the centre of the
globe. Then I can fill my cup without any artificial aid, or
any painful effort.
What we call depth in a book is often obscurity; and an author
whose meaning is got at only by severe mental exertion, and a
straining of the mind's eye, is generally weak in the backbone
of him.
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