He felt that he had one or two ideas, on which he had a firm grasp, to communicate to the world, and he worked at them incessantly in new and ever-varying forms.
The issue would seem to show that he was not destined to communicate them directly to others--at least, in his own lifetime; and, indeed, no one was quicker at interpreting events than himself.

He gave the enterprise a long and severe trial, but the resolute front with which he was met, showed him clearly that it was not to be.

It may be that the record of his life, little as he ever imagined it would come before the world, may effect a part of what he himself prepared to do.
Occasionally, for he was of quick sensibilities, throughout this period he felt the bitterness of constant rebuff.

The following letter he wrote me shows it: "I am beginning to feel as if publishers had a code of signals or private marks like freemasonry, which they scribble sometimes, like the concealed marks on bank-notes, on the first page of a manuscript, so as to spare their brother publishers the trouble of looking through a manuscript which is below market value.

I have never had a manuscript accepted which has been once refused; and I now eagerly scan the first page, to see if I can discover a wriggling mark in the margin or among the lines which is to tell Smith and Co.