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once again give glory to literature. But this millennium will not be till the "strong" book of the Ishbosheth ceases to find a publisher, and the Ishbosheth themselves are seen in their true colours, and fully recognized by the public to be no more than they are—a mere group of low sensualists, who haunt Fleet Street bars and restaurants, and who out of that sodden daily and nightly experience get a few temporary jobs on the Press, and "pose" as a cult and censorship of art. And fortunately the very phrase "strong book" has become so much their own that it has now only to be used in order to warn off the public from mere pot-house opinion.
