JOHN JENKINS, in an evil day, felt suddenly inclined

To perpetrate a novel of an unobtrusive kind;

It held no “Strange Adventures” or “Mysterious Events,”

To terrify its readers with exciting accidents.

“I have never,” said John Jenkins, “in my uneventful life,

Taken part in revolutions or in sanguinary strife;

My knowledge of historic days is lamentably scant,

But the present will afford me the material I want.”

In fact, the rash resolve with which this foolish man set out,

Was just to deal with matters that he really knew about.

He studied all his characters with sympathy sincere;

He found a trusting publisher—one wonders much at that—

For this, his first production, fell quite absolutely flat.

The critics were benign indeed: “A harmless little tale,”

Was what they mostly called it. “While the reader cannot fail,”

Another wrote, “to credit it with fluency and grace,

Its fault is that it’s really so extremely commonplace.”

A third condemned it roundly as “A simple, shameless sham”

(Finding that alliteration often does for epigram).

And as John Jenkins wearily perused each fresh review,

He shook his head, and cried, “Oh, this will never, never do!”

Undaunted by catastrophe, John Jenkins tried again,

And wrote his second novel in a very different strain;

In one short month he finished what the critic at a glance

Pronounced a fine example of the latter-day Romance.

His characters now figured in that period sublime

They said “Oddsbobs,” “Grammercy,” and other phrases sweet,

Extracted from old English as supplied in Wardour Street.

Exciting was their wooing, constant battles did they wage,

And some one murdered some one else on every other page;

Whereat the critics flung their caps, and one and all agreed,

“Hail to the great John Jenkins! This is True Romance indeed!”

And so John Jenkins flourishes, and scribbles wondrous fast

A string of such “romances,” each exactly like the last;

A score of anxious publishers for his assistance seek;

His “Illustrated Interview” you meet with every week.

Nay, more; when any question, difficult and intricate,

Perplexes the intelligence of ministers of State,

The country disregards them all, and where they fear to tread,

Adventurous John Jenkins rushes boldly in instead,

And kindly (in the intervals of literary cares)

Instructs a grateful nation how to manage its affairs!

So, for all youthful authors who are anxious to succeed,

The moral of John Jenkins is—well, he who runs may read.