ABSTRACT
Horne fell into a mood of dejection. Harassing and humiliating as the Repository had proved for him, now that it was gone his life seemed empty. For the past year there had been little time for anything else. Moreover, for the past three years its pages had been the recipients for all his enthusiasms and hatreds: his philosophy of the poet's mission, his indignation at the neglect suffered by genius, his reforming zeal and his memories of the past. Articles from his pen had covered a bewildering range of topics from recollections of the forger, Ireland, to trade policies in China. It was testimony to the challenges of editorship that never before or after did his journalism have more wit and vitality or such an urgent sense of communication. Without its challenge he felt exhausted, self-disgusted, and forlorn.
