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To Mr. Henry Alden:
ALDEN,--dear and ancient friend--it is a solemn moment. You have now
reached the age of discretion. You have been a long time arriving. Many
years ago you docked me on an article because the subject was too old;
later, you docked me on an article because the subject was too new;
later still, you docked me on an article because the subject was betwixt
and between. Once, when I wrote a Letter to Queen Victoria, you did not
put it in the respectable part of the Magazine, but interred it in that
potter's field, the Editor's Drawer. As a result, she never answered it.
How often we recall, with regret, that Napoleon once shot at a magazine
editor and missed him and killed a publisher. But we remember, with
charity, that his intentions were good.
You will reform, now, Alden. You will cease from these economies, and
you will be discharged. But in your retirement you will carry with you
the admiration and earnest good wishes of the oppressed and toiling
scribes. This will be better than bread. Let this console you when the
bread fails.
You will carry with you another thing, too--the affection of the
scribes; for they all love you in spite of your crimes. For you bear a
kind heart in your breast, and the sweet and winning spirit that charms
away all hostilities and animosities, and makes of your enemy your
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