This little book was written before either “Jane Eyre” or “Shirley,” and yet no indulgence can be solicited¹ for it on the plea of a first attempt. A first attempt it certainly was not, as the pen which wrote it had been previously² worn a good deal in a practice of some years. I had not indeed published anything before I commenced “The Professor,” but in many a crude effort, destroyed almost as soon as composed, I had got over any such taste as I might once have had for ornamented³ and redundant⁴ composition, and come to prefer what was plain and homely⁵. At the same time I had adopted a set of principles on the subject of incident, &c., such as would be generally approved in theory, but the result of which, when carried out into practice, often procures⁶ for an author more surprise than pleasure.

I said to myself that my hero should work his way through life as I had seen real living men work theirs — that he should never get a shilling he had not earned — that no sudden turns should lift him in a moment to wealth and high station; that whatever small competency he might gain, should be won by the sweat of his brow; that, before he could find so much as an arbour to sit down in, he should master at least half the ascent⁷ of “the Hill of Difficulty;” that he should not even marry a beautiful girl or a lady of rank. As Adam’s son he should share Adam’s doom⁸, and drain throughout life a mixed and moderate cup of enjoyment⁹.

In the sequel, however, I find that publishers in general scarcely approved of this system, but would have liked something more imaginative and

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