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diff --git a/36228-h/36228-h.htm b/36228-h/36228-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..44f0094 --- /dev/null +++ b/36228-h/36228-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11795 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Eulogy of Richard Jefferies, by Walter Besant. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.nsb {margin-bottom: 0;} + +.ns { + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 0; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.bookad { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + width: 24em; +} + +.simh3 { + font-size: 1.17em; + font-weight: bolder; +} + +.hangingindent { + padding-left: 40px ; + text-indent: -40px ; +} + +.th1{ + padding-left: 1.5em ; + text-indent: -1em ; +} + +.ph1 { + padding-left: 1em ; + text-indent: -1em ; +} + +.ph1nb { + margin-bottom: 0 ; + padding-left: 1em ; + text-indent: -1em ; +} + +.ph1ns { + margin-bottom: 0 ; + margin-top: 0 ; + padding-left: 1em ; + text-indent: -1em ; +} + +.ph2 { + margin-top: 0 ; + margin-bottom: 0 ; + margin-left: 1em; + padding-left: 1em ; + text-indent: -1em ; +} + +.ph3 { + margin-top: 0 ; + margin-bottom: 0 ; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 1em ; + text-indent: -1em ; +} + +.in1 {margin-left: 1em;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i11 {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +.notes { + background-color: #eeeeee; color: #000; + padding-top: .5em; padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em; + margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; +} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Eulogy of Richard Jefferies, by Walter Besant + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Eulogy of Richard Jefferies + +Author: Walter Besant + +Release Date: May 26, 2011 [EBook #36228] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Gary Rees and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 402px;"> +<img src="images/front.jpg" width="402" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h1><br /><br />THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES<br /><br /></h1> + + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>WALTER BESANT<br /><br /><br /><br /></h2> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td>'I hearing got, who had but ears,</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sight, who has but eyes before;</span></td></tr> +<tr><td>I moments live, who lived but years,</td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And truth discern, who knew but learning's lore.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td align="right"><span class="smcap">Thoreau</span>.</td></tr> +</table> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 173px;"> +<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="173" height="200" alt="" title="" /> +<br /><br /><br /><i>WITH A PORTRAIT</i><br /><br /><br /> +</div> + + + + +<h3>London</h3> +<h2>CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY<br /> +1888</h2> + +<div class="center">[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="center"><br /><br /><br />TO THE<br /></div> + +<h2>WIDOW AND THE TWO CHILDREN</h2> + +<div class="center">OF</div> + +<h2>RICHARD JEFFERIES</h2> + +<div class="center"><br />I DEDICATE THIS MEMORIAL, IN THE EARNEST HOPE<br /><br /> + +THAT IT MAY NOT BE FOUND WHOLLY<br /><br /> + +UNWORTHY OF ITS SUBJECT.<br /><br /><br /></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>In the body of this work I have sufficiently explained the reasons why I +was entrusted with the task of writing this memoir of Richard Jefferies. +I have only here to express my thanks, first to the publishers, who have +given permission to quote from books by Jefferies issued by them, +namely: Messrs. Cassell and Co., Messrs. Chapman and Hall, Messrs. +Longman and Co., Messrs. Sampson Low and Co., Messrs. Smith and Elder, +and Messrs. Tinsley Brothers, and next, to all those who have entrusted +me with letters written by Jefferies, and have given permission to use +them. These are: Mrs. Harrild, of Sydenham,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> Mr. Charles Longman, Mr. +J.W. North, and Mr. C.P. Scott. I have also been provided with the +note-books filled with Jefferies' notes made in the fields. These have +enabled me to understand, and, I hope, to convey to others some +understanding of, the writer's methods. I call this book the "Eulogy" of +Richard Jefferies, because, in very truth, I can find nothing but +admiration, pure and unalloyed, for that later work of his, on which +will rest his fame and his abiding memory.</p> + +<div class="right"><span class="simh3">W.B.</span><br /></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">United University Club</span>,</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>September, 1888</i>.</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table width="50%" border="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">COATE FARM</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">SIXTEEN TO TWENTY</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">LETTERS FROM 1866 TO 1872</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_66">66</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">GLEAMS OF LIGHT</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_96">96</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">FIRST YEARS OF SUCCESS</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_108">108</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">FICTION, EARLY AND LATE</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_145">145</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">IN FULL CAREER</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_163">163</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">THE LONGMAN LETTERS</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_193">193</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">THE COUNTRY LIFE</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_214">214</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"THE STORY OF MY HEART"</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_269">269</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">THE CHILD WANDERS IN THE WOOD</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">CONCLUSION</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_327">327</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#APPENDIX_I">APPENDIX I.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">LIST OF JEFFERIES' WORKS</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_366">366</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#APPENDIX_II">APPENDIX II.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">LIST OF PAPERS STILL UNPUBLISHED</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_368">368</a><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="simh3"><a href="#APPENDIX_III">APPENDIX III.</a></span><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">LETTER TO THE "TIMES," NOVEMBER, 1872</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_370">370</a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><br /><br /><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center">THE<br /></div> + +<h2>EULOGY</h2> + +<div class="center">OF</div> + +<h2>RICHARD JEFFERIES<br /><br /><br /></h2> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>COATE FARM.</h3> + + +<p>"Go," said the Voice which dismisses the soul on its way to inhabit an +earthly frame. "Go; thy lot shall be to speak of trees, from the cedar +even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall; and of beasts also, +and of fowls, and of fishes. All thy ways shall be ordered for thee, so +that thou shalt learn to speak of these things as no man ever spoke +before. Thou shalt rise into great honour among men. Many shall love to +hear thy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> voice above all the voices of those who speak. This is a great +gift. Thou shalt also enjoy the tender love of wife and children. Yet +the things which men most desire—riches, rank, independence, ease, +health, and long life—these are denied to thee. Thou shalt be always +poor; thou shalt live in humble places; the goad of necessity shall +continually prick thee to work when thou wouldst meditate; to write when +thou wouldst walk forth to observe. Thou shalt never be able to sit down +to rest; thou shalt be afflicted with grievous plaguy diseases; and thou +shalt die when little more than half the allotted life of man is past. +Go, therefore. Be happy with what is given, and lament not over what is +denied."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Richard Jefferies—christened John Richard, but he was always called by +his second name—was born on November 6, 1848, at the farmhouse of +Coate—you may pronounce it, if you please, in Wiltshire fashion—Caute. +The house stands on the road from Swindon to Marlborough, about two +miles and a half from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> former place. It has now lost its old +picturesqueness, because the great heavy thatch which formerly served +for roof has been removed and replaced by slates. I know not whether any +gain in comfort has been achieved by this change, but the effect to +outward view has been to reduce what was once a beautiful old house to +meanness.</p> + +<p>It consists of two rooms on the ground-floor, four on the first floor, +and two large garrets in the roof, one of which, as we shall see, has +memorable associations. The keeping-room of the family is remarkable for +its large square window, built out so as to afford a delightful retreat +for reading or working in the summer, or whenever it is not too cold to +sit away from the fireplace. The other room, called, I believe, the best +parlour, is larger, but it lacks the square window. In the days when the +Jefferies family lived here it seems to have been used as a kind of +store-room or lumber-room. At the back of the house is a kitchen +belonging to a much older house; it is a low room built solidly of stone +with timber rafters.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<p>Beside the kitchen is a large modern room, which was used in Richard's +childhood as a chapel of ease, in which service was read every Sunday +for the hamlet of Coate.</p> + +<p>Between the house and the road is a small flower-garden; at the side of +the house is a vegetable-garden, with two or three fruit-trees, and +beyond this an orchard. On the other side of the house are the farm +buildings. There seems to be little traffic up and down the road, and +the hamlet consists of nothing more than half a dozen labourers' +cottages.</p> + +<p>"I remember," writes one who knew him in boyhood, "every little detail +of the house and grounds, even to the delicious scent of the musk +underneath the old bay window"—it still springs up afresh every summer +between the cobble stones—"the 'grind-stone' apple, the splendid +egg-plum which drooped over the roof, the little Siberian crabs, the +damsons—I could plant each spot with its own particular tree—the +drooping willow, the swing, the quaint little arbour, the +fuchsia-bushes, the hedge walks, the little arched gate leading into the +road, the delightful scent under the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> limes, the little bench by the +ha-ha looking towards Swindon and the setting sun. I am actually crying +over these delicious memories of my childhood; if ever I loved a spot of +this earth, it was Coate House. The scent of the sweet-briar takes me +there in a moment; the walnut-trees you recollect, and the old wooden +pump, where the villagers came for water; the hazel copse that my uncle +planted; the gateway that led to the reservoir; the sitting-room, with +its delightful square window; the porch, where the swallows used to +build year after year; and the kitchen, with its wide hearth and dark +window."</p> + +<p>In "Amaryllis at the Fair" the scene is laid at Coate Farm. But, indeed, +as we shall see, Coate was never absent from Jefferies' mind for long.</p> + +<p>Coate is not, I believe, a large farm. It had, however, been in the +possession of the family for many generations. Once—twice—it passed +out of their hands, and was afterwards recovered. It was finally lost +about twelve years ago. To belong to an old English yeoman stock is, +perhaps, good enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> ancestry for anyone, though not, certainly, +"showy." Richard Jefferies was a veritable son of the soil: not +descended from those who have nothing to show but long centuries of +servitude, but with a long line behind him of independent farmers +occupying their own land. Field and forest lore were therefore his by +right of inheritance.</p> + +<p>As for the country round about Coate, I suppose there is no district in +the world that has been more minutely examined, explored, and described. +Jefferies knew every inch of ground, every tree, every hedge. The land +which lies in a circle of ten miles' radius, the centre of which is +Coate Farm-house, belongs to the writings of Jefferies. He lived +elsewhere, but mostly he wrote of Coate. The "Gamekeeper at Home," the +"Amateur Poacher," "Wild Life in a Southern County," "Round about a +Great Estate," "Hodge and his Masters," are all written of this small +bit of Wiltshire. Nay, in "Wood Magic," in "Amaryllis at the Fair," in +"Green Ferne Farm," and in "Bevis," we are still either at Coate Farm +itself or on the hills around.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is a country of downs. Two of them, within sight of the farmhouse, +are covered with the grassy mounds and trenches of ancient forts or +"castles." There are plantations here and there, and coppices, but the +general aspect of the country is treeless; it is also a dry country. In +winter there are water-courses which in summer are dry; yet it is not +without brooks. Jefferies shows ("Wild Life in a Southern County," p. +29) that in ancient and prehistoric time the whole country must have +been covered with forests, of which the most important survival is what +is now called Ashbourne Chase. For one who loved solitude and wanderings +among the hills, there could be hardly any part of England more +delightful. Within a reasonable walk from Coate are Barbury Hill, +Liddington Hill, and Ashbourne Chase; there are downs extending as far +as Marlborough, over which a man may walk all day long and meet no one. +It is a country, moreover, full of ancient monuments; besides the +strongholds of Liddington and Barbury, there are everywhere tumuli, +barrows, cromlechs, and stone circles. Way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>land Smith's Forge is within +a walk to the east; another walk, somewhat longer, takes you to Avebury, +to Wan's Dyke, to the Grey Wethers of Marlborough, or the ancient forest +of Savernake. There are ancient memories or whispers of old wars and +prehistoric battles about this country. At Barbury the Britons made a +final stand against the Saxons, and were defeated with great slaughter. +Wanborough, now a village, was then an important centre where four Roman +roads met, so that the chieftain or king who had his seat at Wanborough +could communicate rapidly, and call up forces from Sarum, Silchester, +Winchester, and the Chilterns. All these things speak nothing to a boy +who is careless and incurious. But Richard Jefferies was a boy curious +and inquiring. He had, besides, friends who directed his attention to +the meaning of the ancient monuments within his reach, and taught him +something of the dim and shadowy history of the people who built them. +He loved to talk and think of them; in after-years he wrote a +book—"After London"—which was inspired by these early<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> meditations +upon prehistoric Britain. He himself discovered—it is an archæological +find of very considerable importance—how the garrisons of these +hill-top forts provided themselves with water. And as for his special +study of creatures and their ways, the wildness of the country is highly +favourable, both to their preservation and to opportunities for study. +Perhaps no other part of England was better for the development of his +genius than the Wiltshire Downs. Do you want to catch the feeling of the +air upon these downs? Remember the words which begin "Wild Life in a +Southern County."</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The most commanding down is crowned with the grassy mould and +trenches of an ancient earthwork, from whence there is a noble view +of hill and plain. The inner slope of the green fosse is inclined +at an angle pleasant to recline on, with the head just below the +edge, in the summer sunshine. A faint sound as of a sea heard in a +dream—a sibilant 'sish, sish'—passes along outside, dying away +and coming again as a fresh wave of the wind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> rushes through the +bennets and the dry grass. There is the happy hum of bees—who love +the hills—as they speed by laden with their golden harvest, a +drowsy warmth, and the delicious odour of wild thyme. Behind the +fosse sinks, and the rampart rises high and steep—two butterflies +are wheeling in uncertain flight over the summit. It is only +necessary to raise the head a little way, and the cool breeze +refreshes the cheek—cool at this height while the plains beneath +glow under the heat."</p></blockquote> + +<p>All day long the trains from Devon, Cornwall, Somerset and South Wales, +from Exeter, Bristol, Bath, Gloucester, and Oxford, run into Swindon and +stop there for ten minutes—every one of them—while the passengers get +out and crowd into the refreshment rooms.</p> + +<p>Swindon to all these travellers is nothing at all but a +refreshment-room. It has no other association—nobody takes a ticket to +Swindon any more than to Crewe—it is the station where people have ten +minutes allowed for eating. As for any village, or town, of Swindon, +nobody has ever inquired whether there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> be such a place. Swindon is a +luncheon-bar; that is all. There is, however, more than a +refreshment-room at Swindon. First, there has grown up around the +station a new town of twenty thousand people, all employés of the Great +Western Railway, all engaged upon the works of the company. This is not +by any means a beautiful town, but it is not squalid; on the contrary, +it is clean, and looks prosperous and contented, with fewer +public-houses (but here one may be mistaken) than are generally found. +It is an industrial city—a city of the employed—skilled artisans, +skilled engineers, blacksmiths, foremen, and clerks. A mile south of +this new town—but there are houses nearly all the way—the old Swindon +stands upon a hill, occupying, most likely, the site of a British +fortress, such as that of Liddington or Barbury. It is a market town of +six or eight thousand people. Formerly there was a settlement of Dutch +in the place connected with the wool trade. They have long since gone, +but the houses which they built—picturesque old houses presenting two +gables to the street—remained after them. Of these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> nearly all are now +pulled down, so that there is little but red brick to look upon. In +fact, it would be difficult to find a town more devoid of beauty. They +have pulled down the old church, except the chancel: there was once an +old mill—Jefferies' grandfather was the tenant. That is also pulled +down, and there is a kind of square or <i>place</i> where there is the corn +exchange: I think that there is nothing else to see.</p> + +<p>On market-day, however, the town is full of crowd and bustle; at the +Goddard Arms you can choose between a hot dinner upstairs and a cold +lunch downstairs, and you will find both rooms filled with men who know +each other and are interested in lambing and other bucolic matters. The +streets are filled with drivers, sheep, and cattle; there is a horse +market; in the corn market the farmers, slow of speech, carry their +sample-bags in their hands; the carter, whip in hand, stands about on +the kerbstone; but in spite of the commotion no one is in a hurry. It is +the crowd alone which gives the feeling of busy life.</p> + +<p>Looking from Swindon Hill, south and east<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> and west, there stretches +away the great expanse of downs which nobody ever seems to visit; the +treasure-land of monuments built by a people passed away—not our +ancestors at all. This is the country over which the feet of Richard +Jefferies loved to roam, never weary of their wandering. On the slopes +of these green hills he has measured the ramparts of the ancient +fortress; lying on the turf, he has watched the hawk in the air; among +these fields he has sat for hours motionless and patient, until the +creatures thought him a statue and played their pranks before him +without fear. In these hedges he has peered and searched and watched; in +these woods and in these fields and on these hillsides he has seen in a +single evening's walk more things of wonder and beauty than one of us +poor purblind city creatures can discern in the whole of the six weeks +which we yearly give up to Nature and to fresh air. This corner of +England must be renamed. As Yorkshire hath its Craven, its Cleveland, +its Richmond, and its Holderness, so Wiltshire shall have its +Jefferies-land, lying in an irregular oval on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> whose circumference stand +Swindon, Barbury, Liddington, Ashbourne Chase and Wanborough.</p> + +<p>Richard Jefferies was the second of five children, three sons and two +daughters. The eldest child, a daughter, was killed by a runaway horse +at the age of five. The Swindon people, who are reported to be +indifferent to the works of their native author, remember his family +very well. They seem to have possessed qualities or eccentricities which +cause them to be remembered. His grandfather, for instance, who is +without doubt the model for old Iden in "Amaryllis," was at the same +time a miller and a confectioner. The mill stood near the west end of +the old church; both mill and church are now pulled down. It was worked +for the tenant by his brother, a man still more eccentric than the +miller. The family seems to have inherited, from father to son, a +disposition of reserve, a love of solitude, and a habit of thinking for +themselves. No gregarious man, no man who loved to sit among his +fellows, could possibly have written even the shortest of Jefferies' +papers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>The household at Coate has been partly—but only partly—described in +"Amaryllis at the Fair." It consisted of his parents, himself, his next +brother, a year younger than himself, and a brother and sister much +younger. Farmer Iden, in "Amaryllis," is, in many characteristics, a +portrait of his father. Truly, it is not a portrait to shame any man; +and though the lines are strongly drawn, one hopes that the original, +who is still living, was not offended at a picture so striking and so +original. Jefferies has drawn for us the figure of a man full of wisdom +and thought, who speaks now in broad Wiltshire and now in clear, good +English; one who meditates aloud; one who roams about his fields +watching and remembering; one who brings to the planting of potatoes as +much thought and care as if he were writing an immortal poem; yet an +unpractical and unsuccessful man, who goes steadily and surely down-hill +while those who have not a tenth part of his wisdom and ability climb +upwards. A novelist, however, draws his portraits as best suits his +purpose; he arranges the lights to fall on this feature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> or on that; he +conceals some things and exaggerates others, so that even with the +picture of Farmer Iden before us, it would be rash to conclude that we +know the elder Jefferies. Some of the pictures, however, must be surely +drawn from the life. For instance, that of the farmer planting his +potatoes:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Under the wall was a large patch recently dug, beside the patch a +grass path, and on the path a wheelbarrow. A man was busy putting +in potatoes; he wore the raggedest coat ever seen on a respectable +back. As the wind lifted the tails it was apparent that the lining +was loose and only hung by threads, the cuffs were worn through, +there was a hole beneath each arm, and on each shoulder the nap of +the cloth was gone; the colour, which had once been gray, was now a +mixture of several soils and numerous kinds of grit. The hat he had +on was no better; it might have been made of some hard pasteboard, +it was so bare.</p> + +<p>"The way in which he was planting potatoes was wonderful; every +potato was placed at exactly the right distance apart, and a hole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +made for it in the general trench; before it was set it was looked +at and turned over, and the thumb rubbed against it to be sure that +it was sound, and when finally put in, a little mould was +delicately adjusted round to keep it in its right position till the +whole row was buried. He carried the potatoes in his coat +pocket—those, that is, for the row—and took them out one by one; +had he been planting his own children he could not have been more +careful. The science, the skill, and the experience brought to this +potato-planting you would hardly credit; for all this care was +founded upon observation, and arose from very large abilities on +the part of the planter, though directed to so humble a purpose at +that moment."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This book also contains certain references to past family history which +show that there had been changes and chances with losses and gains. They +may be guessed from the following:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"'The daffodil was your great-uncle's favourite flower.'</p> + +<p>"'Richard?' asked Amaryllis.</p> + +<p>"'Richard,' repeated Iden. And Amaryllis,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> noting how handsome her +father's intellectual face looked, wandered in her mind from the +flower as he talked, and marvelled how he could be so rough +sometimes, and why he talked like the labourers, and wore a ragged +coat—he who was so full of wisdom in his other moods, and spoke, +and thought, and indeed acted as a perfect gentleman.</p> + +<p>"'Richard's favourite flower,' he went on. 'He brought the +daffodils down from Luckett's; every one in the garden came from +there. He was always reading poetry, and writing, and sketching, +and yet he was such a capital man of business; no one could +understand that. He built the mill, and saved heaps of money; he +bought back the old place at Luckett's, which belonged to us before +Queen Elizabeth's days; indeed, he very nearly made up the fortunes +Nicholas and the rest of them got rid of. He was, indeed, a man. +And now it is all going again—faster than he made it.'"</p></blockquote> + +<p>Everybody knows the Dutch picture of the dinner at the farm—the +description of the leg of mutton. Was ever leg of mutton thus +glorified?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>"That day they had a leg of mutton—a special occasion—a joint to +be looked on reverently. Mr. Iden had walked into the town to +choose it himself some days previously, and brought it home on foot +in a flag basket. The butcher would have sent it, and if not, there +were men on the farm who could have fetched it, but it was much too +important to be left to a second person. No one could do it right +but Mr. Iden himself. There was a good deal of reason in this +personal care of the meat, for it is a certain fact that unless you +do look after such things yourself, and that persistently, too, you +never get it first-rate. For this cause people in grand villas +scarcely ever have anything worth eating on their tables. Their +household expenses reach thousands yearly, and yet they rarely have +anything eatable, and their dinner-tables can never show meat, +vegetables, or fruit equal to Mr. Iden's. The meat was dark-brown, +as mutton should be, for if it is the least bit white it is sure to +be poor; the grain was short, and ate like bread and butter, firm, +and yet almost crumbling to the touch; it was full<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> of juicy red +gravy, and cut pleasantly, the knife went through it nicely; you +can tell good meat directly you touch it with the knife. It was +cooked to a turn, and had been done at a wood fire on a hearth; no +oven taste, no taint of coal gas or carbon; the pure flame of wood +had browned it. Such emanations as there may be from burning logs +are odorous of the woodland, of the sunshine, of the fields and +fresh air; the wood simply gives out as it burns the sweetness it +has imbibed through its leaves from the atmosphere which floats +above grass and flowers. Essences of this order, if they do +penetrate the fibres of the meat, add to its flavour a delicate +aroma. Grass-fed meat, cooked at a wood fire, for me."</p></blockquote> + +<p>After the dinner, the great strong man with the massive head, who can +never make anything succeed, sits down to sleep alone beside the fire, +his head leaning where for thirty years it had daily leaned, against the +wainscot, so that there was now a round spot upon it, completely devoid +of varnish.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p><blockquote><p>"That panel was in effect a cross on which a heart had been +tortured for the third of a century, that is, for the space of time +allotted to a generation.</p> + +<p>"That mark upon the panel had still a further meaning; it +represented the unhappiness, the misfortunes, the Nemesis of two +hundred years. This family of Idens had endured already two hundred +years of unhappiness and discordance for no original fault of +theirs, simply because they had once been fortunate of old time, +and therefore they had to work out that hour of sunshine to the +utmost depths of shadow.</p> + +<p>"The panel of the wainscot upon which that mark had been worn was +in effect a cross upon which a human heart had been tortured—and +thought can, indeed, torture—for a third of a century. For Iden +had learned to know himself, and despaired."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Then the man falls asleep, and Amaryllis steals in on tiptoe to find a +book. Then the wife, with a shawl round her shoulders, creeps outside +the house and looks in at the window—angry with her unpractical +husband.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>"Slight sounds, faint rustlings, began to be audible among the +cinders in the fender. The dry cinders were pushed about by +something passing between them. After a while a brown mouse peered +out at the end of the fender under Iden's chair, looked round a +moment, and went back to the grate. In a minute he came again, and +ventured somewhat farther across the width of the white hearthstone +to the verge of the carpet. This advance was made step by step, but +on reaching the carpet the mouse rushed home to cover in one +run—like children at 'touch wood,' going out from a place of +safety very cautiously, returning swiftly. The next time another +mouse followed, and a third appeared at the other end of the +fender. By degrees they got under the table, and helped themselves +to the crumbs; one mounted a chair and reached the cloth, but soon +descended, afraid to stay there. Five or six mice were now busy at +their dinner.</p> + +<p>"The sleeping man was as still and quiet as if carved.</p> + +<p>"A mouse came to the foot, clad in a great rusty-hued iron-shod +boot—the foot that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> rested on the fender, for he had crossed his +knees. His ragged and dingy trouser, full of March dust, and +earth-stained by labour, was drawn up somewhat higher than the +boot. It took the mouse several trials to reach the trouser, but he +succeeded, and audaciously mounted to Iden's knee. Another quickly +followed, and there the pair of them feasted on the crumbs of bread +and cheese caught in the folds of his trousers.</p> + +<p>"One great brown hand was in his pocket, close to them—a mighty +hand, beside which they were pigmies indeed in the land of the +giants. What would have been the value of their lives between a +finger and thumb that could crack a ripe and strong-shelled walnut?</p> + +<p>"The size—the mass—the weight of his hand alone was as a hill +overshadowing them; his broad frame like the Alps; his head high +above as a vast rock that overhung the valley.</p> + +<p>"His thumb-nail—widened by labour with spade and axe—his +thumb-nail would have covered either of the tiny creatures as his +shield covered Ajax.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yet the little things fed in perfect confidence. He was so still, +so <i>very</i> still—quiescent—they feared him no more than they did +the wall; they could not hear his breathing.</p> + +<p>"Had they been gifted with human intelligence, that very fact would +have excited their suspicions. Why so very, <i>very</i> still? Strong +men, wearied by work, do not sleep quietly; they breathe heavily. +Even in firm sleep we move a little now and then, a limb trembles, +a muscle quivers, or stretches itself.</p> + +<p>"But Iden was so still it was evident he was really wide awake and +restraining his breath, and exercising conscious command over his +muscles, that this scene might proceed undisturbed.</p> + +<p>"Now the strangeness of the thing was in this way: Iden set traps +for mice in the cellar and the larder, and slew them there without +mercy. He picked up the trap, swung it round, opening the door at +the same instant, and the wretched captive was dashed to death upon +the stone flags of the floor. So he hated them and persecuted them +in one place, and fed them in another.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"From the merest thin slit, as it were, between his eyelids, Iden +watched the mice feed and run about his knees till, having eaten +every crumb, they descended his leg to the floor."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This portrait is not true in all its details. For instance, the elder +Jefferies had small and shapely hands and feet—not the massive hands +described in "Amaryllis."</p> + +<p>Another slighter portrait of his father is found in "After London." It +is that of the Baron:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"As he pointed to the tree above, the muscles, as the limb moved, +displayed themselves in knots, at which the courtier himself could +not refrain from glancing. Those mighty arms, had they clasped him +about the waist, could have crushed his bending ribs. The heaviest +blow that he could have struck upon that broad chest would have +produced no more effect than a hollow sound; it would not even have +shaken that powerful frame.</p> + +<p>"He felt the steel blue eyes, bright as the sky of midsummer, +glance into his very mind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> The high forehead bare, for the Baron +had his hat in his hand, mocked at him in its humility. The Baron +bared his head in honour of the courtier's office and the Prince +who had sent him. The beard, though streaked with white, spoke +little of age; it rather indicated an abundant, a luxuriant +vitality."</p></blockquote> + +<p>And I have before me a letter which contains the following passage +concerning the elder Jefferies:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The garden, the orchard, the hedges of the fields were always his +chief delight; he had planted many a tree round and about his farm. +Not a single bird that flew but he knew, and could tell its +history; if you walked with him, as Dick often did, and as I have +occasionally done, through the fields, and heard him +expatiate—quietly enough—on the trees and flowers, you would not +be surprised at the turn taken by his son's genius."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Thus, then, the boy was born; in an ancient farmhouse beautiful to look +upon, with beautiful fields and gardens round it; in the midst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> of a +most singular and interesting country, wilder than any other part of +England except the Peak and Dartmoor; encouraged by his father to +observe and to remember; taught by him to read the Book of Nature. What +better beginning could the boy have had? There wanted but one thing to +complete his happiness—a little more ease as regards money. I fear that +one of the earliest things the boy could remember must have been +connected with pecuniary embarrassment.</p> + +<p>While still a child, four years of age, he was taken to live under the +charge of an aunt, Mrs. Harrild, at Sydenham. He stayed with her for +some years, going home to Coate every summer for a month. At Sydenham he +went to a preparatory school kept by a lady. He was then at the age of +seven, but he had learned to read long before. He does not seem to have +gained the character of precocity or exceptional cleverness at school, +but Mrs. Harrild remembers that he was always as a child reading and +drawing, and would amuse himself for hours at a time over some old +volume of "Punch," or the "Illustrated London News,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> or, indeed, +anything he could get. He had a splendid memory, was even so early a +great observer, and was always a most truthful child, strong in his +likes and dislikes. But he possessed a highly nervous and sensitive +temperament, was hasty and quick-tempered, impulsive, and, withal, very +reserved. All these qualities remained with Richard Jefferies to the +end; he was always reserved, always sensitive, always nervous, always +quick-tempered. In his case, indeed, the child was truly father to the +man. It is pleasant to record that he repaid the kindness of his aunt +with the affection of a son, keeping up a constant correspondence with +her. His letters, indeed, are sometimes like a diary of his life, as +will be seen from the extracts I shall presently make from them.</p> + +<p>At the age of nine the boy went home for good. He was then sent to +school at Swindon.</p> + +<p>A letter from which I have already quoted thus speaks of him at the age +of ten:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"There was a summer-house of conical shape in one corner paved with +'kidney'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> stones. This was used by the boys as a treasure-house, +where darts, bows and arrows, wooden swords, and other instruments +used in mimic warfare were kept. Two favourite pastimes were those +of living on a desert island, and of waging war with wild Indians. +Dick was of a masterful temperament, and though less strong than +several of us in a bodily sense, his force of will was such that we +had to succumb to whatever plans he chose to dictate, never +choosing to be second even in the most trivial thing. His temper +was not amiable, but there was always a gentleness about him which +saved him from the reproach of wishing to ride rough-shod over the +feelings of others. I do not recollect his ever joining in the +usual boy's sports—cricket or football—he preferred less +athletic, if more adventurous, means of enjoyment. He was a great +reader, and I remember a sunny parlour window, almost like a room, +where many books of adventure and fairy tales were read by him. +Close to his home was the 'Reservoir,' a prettily-situated lake +surrounded by trees, and with many romantic nooks on the banks. +Here we often<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> used to go on exploring expeditions in quest of +curiosities or wild Indians."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Here we get at the origin of "Bevis." Those who have read that +romance—which, if it were better proportioned and shorter, would be the +most delightful boy's book in the world—will remember how the lads +played and made pretence upon the shores and waters of the lake. Now +they are travellers in the jungle of wild Africa; now they come upon a +crocodile; now they hear close by the roar of a lion; now they discern +traces of savages; now they go into hiding; now they discover a great +inland sea; now they build a hut and live upon a desert island. The man +at thirty-six recalls every day of his childhood, and makes a story out +of it for other children.</p> + +<p>One of the things which he did was to make a canoe for himself with +which to explore the lake. To make a canoe would be beyond the powers of +most boys; but then most boys are brought up in a crowd, and can do +nothing except play cricket and football. The shaping of the canoe is +described in "After London":<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>"He had chosen the black poplar for the canoe because it was the +lightest wood, and would float best. To fell so large a tree had +been a great labour, for the axes were of poor quality, cut badly, +and often required sharpening. He could easily have ordered half a +dozen men to throw the tree, and they would have obeyed +immediately; but then the individuality and interest of the work +would have been lost. Unless he did it himself its importance and +value to him would have been diminished. It had now been down some +weeks, had been hewn into outward shape, and the larger part of the +interior slowly dug away with chisel and gouge.</p> + +<p>"He had commenced while the hawthorn was just putting forth its +first spray, when the thickets and the trees were yet bare. Now the +May bloom scented the air, the forest was green, and his work +approached completion. There remained, indeed, but some final +shaping and rounding off, and the construction, or rather cutting +out, of a secret locker in the stern. This locker was nothing more +than a square aperture chiselled out like a mortise,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> entering not +from above, but parallel with the bottom, and was to be closed with +a tight-fitting piece of wood driven in by force of mallet.</p> + +<p>"A little paint would then conceal the slight chinks, and the boat +might be examined in every possible way without any trace of this +hiding-place being observed. The canoe was some eleven feet long, +and nearly three feet in the beam; it tapered at either end, so +that it might be propelled backwards or forwards without turning, +and stem and stern (interchangeable definitions in this case) each +rose a few inches higher than the general gunwale. The sides were +about two inches thick, the bottom three, so that although dug out +from light wood, the canoe was rather heavy."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"As a boy," to quote again from the same letter, "he was no great +talker; but if we could get him in the humour, he would tell us racy and +blood-curdling romances. There was one particular spot on the Coate +road—many years ago a quarry, afterwards deserted—upon which he wove +many fancies, with murders and ghosts. Always, in going home after one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +of our visits to the farm, we used to think we heard the clanking chains +or ringing hoof of the phantom horse careering after us, and we would +rush on in full flight from the fateful spot."</p> + +<p>His principal companion in boyhood was his next brother, younger than +himself by one year only, but very different in manners, appearance, and +in tastes. He describes both himself and his brother in "After London." +Felix is himself; Oliver is his brother.</p> + +<p>This is Felix:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Independent and determined to the last degree, Felix ran any risk +rather than surrender that which he had found, and which he deemed +his own. This unbending independence and pride of spirit, together +with scarce-concealed contempt for others, had resulted in almost +isolating him from the youth of his own age, and had caused him to +be regarded with dislike by the elders. He was rarely, if ever, +asked to join the chase, and still more rarely invited to the +festivities and amusements provided in adjacent houses, or to the +grander entertainments of the higher nobles.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> Too quick to take +offence where none was really intended, he fancied that many bore +him ill-will who had scarcely given him a passing thought. He could +not forgive the coarse jokes uttered upon his personal appearance +by men of heavier build, who despised so slender a stripling.</p> + +<p>"He would rather be alone than join their company, and would not +compete with them in any of their sports, so that, when his absence +from the arena was noticed, it was attributed to weakness or +cowardice. These imputations stung him deeply, driving him to brood +within himself."</p></blockquote> + +<p>And this is Oliver:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Oliver's whole delight was in exercise and sport. The boldest +rider, the best swimmer, the best at leaping, at hurling the dart +or the heavy hammer, ever ready for tilt or tournament, his whole +life was spent with horse, sword, and lance. A year younger than +Felix, he was at least ten years physically older. He measured +several inches more round the chest; his massive shoulders and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +immense arms, brown and hairy, his powerful limbs, tower-like neck, +and somewhat square jaw were the natural concomitants of enormous +physical strength.</p> + +<p>"All the blood and bone and thew and sinew of the house seemed to +have fallen to his share; all the fiery, restless spirit and +defiant temper; all the utter recklessness and warrior's instinct. +He stood every inch a man, with dark, curling, short-cut hair, +brown cheek and Roman chin, trimmed moustache, brown eye, shaded by +long eyelashes and well-marked brows; every inch a natural king of +men. That very physical preponderance and animal beauty was perhaps +his bane, for his comrades were so many, and his love adventures so +innumerable, that they left him no time for serious ambition.</p> + +<p>"Between the brothers there was the strangest mixture of affection +and repulsion. The elder smiled at the excitement and energy of the +younger; the younger openly despised the studious habits and +solitary life of the elder. In time of real trouble and difficulty +they would have been drawn together; as it was,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> there was little +communion; the one went his way, and the other his. There was +perhaps rather an inclination to detract from each other's +achievements than to praise them, a species of jealousy or envy +without personal dislike, if that can be understood. They were good +friends, and yet kept apart.</p> + +<p>"Oliver made friends of all, and thwacked and banged his enemies +into respectful silence. Felix made friends of none, and was +equally despised by nominal friends and actual enemies. Oliver was +open and jovial; Felix reserved and contemptuous, or sarcastic in +manner. His slender frame, too tall for his width, was against him; +he could neither lift the weights nor undergo the muscular strain +readily borne by Oliver. It was easy to see that Felix, although +nominally the eldest, had not yet reached his full development. A +light complexion, fair hair and eyes, were also against him; where +Oliver made conquests, Felix was unregarded. He laughed, but +perhaps his secret pride was hurt."</p></blockquote> + +<p>After his return from Sydenham the boy, as I have said, went to school +for a year or two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> at Swindon. Then he presently began to read. He had +always delighted in books, especially in illustrated books; now he began +to read everything that he could get.</p> + +<p>The boy who reads everything, the boy who takes out his younger brothers +and his cousins and makes them all pretend as he pleases, see what he +orders them to see, and shudder at his bidding and at the creatures of +his own imagination—what sort of future is in store for that boy? And +think of what his life might have become had he been forced into +clerkery or into trade: how crippled, miserable, and cramped! It is +indeed miserable to think of the thousands designed for a life of art, +of letters, of open air, or of science, wasted and thrown away in +labouring at the useless desk or the hateful counter.</p> + +<p>This boy therefore read everything. Presently, when he had read all that +there was at Coate, and all that his grandfather had to lend him, he +began to borrow of everybody and to buy. It is perfectly wonderful, as +everybody knows, how a boy who never seems to get any money manages to +buy books. The fact is that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> all boys get money, but the boy who wants +books saves his pennies. For twopence you can very often pick up a book +that you want; for sixpence you can have a choice; a shilling will tempt +a second-hand bookseller to part with what seems a really valuable book; +half-a-crown—but such a boy never even sees a half-crown piece. Richard +Jefferies differed in one respect from most boys who read everything. +They live in the world of books; the outer world does not exist for +them; the birds sing, the lambs spring, the flowers blossom, but they +heed them not; they grow short-sighted over the small print; they become +more and more enamoured of phrase, captivated by words, charmed by +style, so that they forget the things around them. When they go abroad +they enact the fable of "Eyes and No Eyes," playing the less desirable +part. Jefferies, on the other hand, was preserved from this danger. His +father, the reserved and meditative man, took him into the fields and +turned over page after page with him of the book of Nature, expounding, +teaching, showing him how to use his eyes, and con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>tinually reading to +him out of that great book.</p> + +<p>So a strange thing came to pass. Most of us who go away from our native +place forget it, or we only remember it from time to time; the memory +grows dim; when we go back we are astonished to find how much we have +forgotten, and how distorted are the memories which remain. Richard +Jefferies, however, who presently left Coate, never forgot the old +place. It remained with him—every tree, every field, every hill, every +patch of wild thyme—all through his life, clear and distinct, as if he +had left it but an hour before. In almost everything he wrote Coate is +in his mind. Even in his book of "Wild Life Round London" the reader +thinks sometimes that he is on the wild Wiltshire Downs, while the wind +whistles in his ears, and the lark is singing in the sky, and far, far +away the sheep-bells tinkle.</p> + +<p>Why, in the very last paper which he ever wrote—it appeared in +<i>Longman's Magazine</i> two months after his death—his memory goes back to +the hamlet where he was born. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> recalls the cottage where John Brown +lived—you can see it still, close to Coate—as well as that where Job +lived who kept the shop and was always buying and selling; and of the +water-bailiff who looked after the great pond:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"There were one or two old boats, and he used to leave the oars +leaning against a wall at the side of the house. These oars looked +like fragments of a wreck, broken and irregular. The right-hand +scull was heavy as if made of ironwood, the blade broad and +spoon-shaped, so as to have a most powerful grip of the water. The +left-hand scull was light and slender, with a narrow blade like a +marrow-scoop; so when you had the punt, you had to pull very hard +with your left hand and gently with the right to get the forces +equal. The punt had a list of its own, and no matter how you rowed, +it would still make leeway. Those who did not know its character +were perpetually trying to get this crooked wake straight, and +consequently went round and round exactly like the whirligig +beetle. Those who knew used to let the leeway proceed a good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> way +and then alter it, so as to act in the other direction like an +elongated zigzag. These sculls the old fellow would bring you as if +they were great treasures, and watch you off in the punt as if he +was parting with his dearest. At that date it was no little matter +to coax him round to unchain his vessel. You had to take an +interest in the garden, in the baits, and the weather, and be very +humble; then perhaps he would tell you he did not want it for the +trimmers, or the withy, or the flags, and you might have it for an +hour as far as he could see; 'did not think my lord's steward would +come over that morning; of course, if he did you must come in,' and +so on; and if the stars were propitious, by-the-bye, the punt was +got afloat."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Then the writer—he was a dying man—sings his song of lament because +the past is past—and dead. All that is past, and that we shall never +see again, is dead. The brook that used to leap and run and chatter—it +is dead. The trees that used to put on new leaves every spring—they are +dead. All is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> dead and swept away, hamlet and cottage, hillside and +coppice, field and hedge.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I think I have heard that the oaks are down. They may be standing +or down, it matters nothing to me; the leaves I last saw upon them +are gone for evermore, nor shall I ever see them come there again +ruddy in spring. I would not see them again even if I could; they +could never look again as they used to do. There are too many +memories there. The happiest days become the saddest afterwards; +let us never go back, lest we too die. There are no such oaks +anywhere else, none so tall and straight, and with such massive +heads, on which the sun used to shine as if on the globe of the +earth, one side in shadow, the other in bright light. How often I +have looked at oaks since, and yet have never been able to get the +same effect from them! Like an old author printed in other type, +the words are the same, but the sentiment is different. The brooks +have ceased to run. There is no music now at the old hatch where we +used to sit in danger of our lives, happy as kings, on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> the narrow +bar over the deep water. The barred pike that used to come up in +such numbers are no more among the flags. The perch used to drift +down the stream, and then bring up again. The sun shone there for a +very long time, and the water rippled and sang, and it always +seemed to me that I could feel the rippling and the singing and the +sparkling back through the centuries. The brook is dead, for when +man goes nature ends. I dare say there is water there still, but it +is not the brook; the brook is gone like John Brown's soul. There +used to be clouds over the fields, white clouds in blue summer +skies. I have lived a good deal on clouds; they have been meat to +me often; they bring something to the spirit which even the trees +do not. I see clouds now sometimes when the iron grip of hell +permits for a minute or two; they are very different clouds, and +speak differently. I long for some of the old clouds that had no +memories. There were nights in those times over those fields, not +darkness, but Night, full of glowing suns and glowing richness of +life that sprang up to meet them. The nights are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> there still; they +are everywhere, nothing local in the night; but it is not the Night +to me seen through the window."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Nobody believes him, he says. People ask him if such a village ever +existed—of course, it never existed. What beautiful picture ever really +existed save in the sunrise and in the sunset sky? Those living in the +place about which these wonderful things are written look at each other +in amazement, and ask what they mean. All this about Coate? Why, here +are only half a dozen cottages, mean and squalid, with thatched roofs; +and beyond the hedge are only fields with a great pond and bare hills +beyond. "No one else," says Jefferies, "seems to have seen the sparkle +on the brook, or heard the music at the hatch, or to have felt back +through the centuries; and when I try to describe these things to them +they look at me with stolid incredulity. No one seems to understand how +I got food from the clouds, nor what there was in the night, nor why it +is not so good to look out of window. They turn their faces away from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +me, so that perhaps, after all, I was mistaken, and there never was any +such place, or any such meadows, and I was never there. And perhaps in +course of time I shall find out also, when I pass away physically, that +as a matter of fact there never was any earth." That, indeed, will be +the most curious discovery possible in the after-world. No earth—then +no Coate; no "Wild Life in a Southern County," and no "Gamekeeper at +Home," because there has never been any home for any gamekeeper.</p> + +<p>I have dwelt at some length upon these early years of Jefferies' life +because they are all-important. They explain the whole of his +after-life; they show how the book of Nature was laid open to this man +in a way that it was never before presented to any man who had also the +divine gift of utterance, namely, by a man who, though steeped in the +wisdom of the field and forest—though he had read indeed in the +book—could not read it aloud for all to hear.</p> + +<p>In order to read this book aright, one must live apart from one's +fellow-men and remain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> a stranger to their ambitions, ignorant of their +crooked ways, their bickerings, and their pleasures. One must have quick +and observant eyes, trained to watch and mark the infinite changes and +variations in Nature, day by day; one must go to Nature's school from +infancy in order to get this power. Nay; one must never cease to +exercise this power, or it will be lost; it must be continually +nourished and strengthened by being exercised. If one who has this power +should go to live in the city, his eyes would grow as sluggish and as +dim as ours; his ear would be blunted by the rolling of the carts, and +his mind disturbed by the rush and the activity of the crowd. Again, if +one who had this power should abandon the simple life, and should deaden +his senses with luxury, sloth, and vice, he would quickly lose it. He +<i>must</i> live apart from men; all day long the sun must burn his cheek, +the wind must blow upon it, the rain must beat upon it; he must never be +out of reach of the fragrant wild flowers and the call and cry of the +birds. Of such men literature can show but two or three—Gilbert White, +Thoreau,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> and Jefferies—but the greatest of them all is Jefferies. No +one before him has so lived among the fields; no one has heard so +clearly the song of the flowers and the weeds and the blades of grass. +The million million blades of grass spoke to Jefferies as the Oak of +Dodona spoke through its thousand leaves. When he went home he sat down +and was inspired to translate that language, and to tell the world what +the grass says and sings to him who can hear.</p> + +<p>He who met the great God Pan face to face fell down dead. Still, even in +these days, he who communes with the Sylvan Spirit presently dies to the +ways of men, while his senses are opened to see the hidden things of +hedge and meadow; while his soul is uplifted by the beauty and the +variety and the order of the world; by the wondrous lives of the +creatures, so full of peril, and so full of joy. Then, if he be +permitted to reveal these things, what can we who receive this +revelation give in exchange? What words of praise and gratitude can we +find in return for this unfolding of the Book of Fleeting Life?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>As for us, we listened to the voice of this master for ten years; we +shall hear no more of his discourses; but the old ones remain; we can go +back to them again and again. It is the quality of truthful work that it +never grows old or stale; one can return to it again and again; there is +always something fresh in it, something new. In a great poem the lines +always bring some new thought to the mind; in great music, the harmonies +always call forth some fresh emotion, and inspire some new thought; in a +true book there is always some new truth to be discovered. If all the +rest of the literature of this day prove ephemeral and is doomed to +swift oblivion, the work of Jefferies shall not perish. Our fashions +change, and the things of which we write become old and pass away. But +the everlasting hills abide, and the meadows still lie green and +flowery, and the roses and wild honeysuckle still blossom in the hedge. +And those who have written of these are so few, and their words are so +precious, that they shall not pass away, so long as their tongue +endureth to be spoken and to be read.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>SIXTEEN TO TWENTY.</h3> + + +<p>At the age of sixteen, Richard Jefferies had an adventure—almost the +only adventure of his quiet life. It was an adventure which could only +happen to a youth of strong imagination, capable of seeing no +difficulties or dangers, and refusing to accept the word "impossible."</p> + +<p>At this time he was a long and loose-limbed lad, regarded by his own +family as at least an uncommon youth and a subject of anxiety as to his +future, a boy who talked eagerly of things far beyond the limits of the +farm, who was self-willed and masterful, whose ideas astonished and even +irritated those whose thoughts were accustomed to move in a narrow, +unchanging groove. He was also a boy, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> we have seen, who had the +power of imposing his own imagination upon others, even those of +sluggish temperament—as Don Quixote overpowered the slow brain of +Sancho Panza.</p> + +<p>Richard Jefferies then, at the age of sixteen, conceived a magnificent +scheme, the like of which never before entered a boy's brain. Above all +things he wanted to see foreign countries. He therefore proposed to +another lad nothing less than to undertake a walk through the whole of +Europe, as far as Moscow and back again. The project was discussed and +debated long and seriously. At last it was referred to the decision of +the dog as to an oracle. In this way: if the dog wagged his tail within +a certain time, they would go; if the dog's tail remained quiet, it +should be taken as a warning or premonition against the journey. +Reliance should never, as a matter of fact, be placed in the oracle of +the dog's tail; but this the lads were too young to understand. The tail +wagged. The boys ran away. It was on November 11, in the year 1864. Now, +here, certain details of the story are wanting. The novelist is never +happy unless the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> machinery of his tale is clear in his own mind. +And I confess that I know not how the two boys raised the money with +which to pay their preliminary expenses. You may support yourself, as +Oliver Goldsmith did, by a flute or a fiddle, you may depend upon the +benefactions of unknown kind hearts in a strange land, but the steamship +company and the railway company must be always paid beforehand. Where +did the passage-money come from? Nay, as you will learn presently, there +must have been quite a large bag of money to start with. Where did it +come from? The other boy—the unknown—the <i>innominatus</i>—doubtless +found that bag of gold.</p> + +<p>They got to Dover and they crossed the Channel, and they actually began +their journey. But I know not how far they got, nor how long a time, +exactly, they spent in France—about a week, it would seem. They very +quickly, however, made the humiliating discovery that they could not +understand a word that was said to them, nor could they, save by signs, +make themselves understood. Therefore they relinquished the idea of +walking to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> Moscow, and reluctantly returned. But they would not go +home; perhaps, because they were still athirst for adventure; perhaps, +because they were ashamed. They then saw an advertisement in a newspaper +which fired their imaginations again. The advertiser undertook, for an +absurdly small sum, to take them across to New York. The amount named +was just within the compass of their money. They resolved to see America +instead of Russia; they called at the agent's office and paid their +fares. Their tickets took them free to Liverpool, whither they repaired. +Unfortunately, when they reached Liverpool, they learned that the +tickets did not include bedding of any kind, or provisions, so that if +they went on board they would certainly be frozen and starved. What was +to be done? They had no more money. They could not get their money +returned. They were helpless. They resolved therefore to give up the +whole project, and to go home again. Jefferies undertook to pawn their +watches in order to get the money for the railway ticket. His appearance +and manner, for some reason or other—pawning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> being doubtless a new +thing with him—roused so much suspicion in the mind of the pawnbroker +that he actually gave the lad into custody. Happily, the superintendent +of police believed his story—probably a telegram to Swindon +strengthened his faith; he himself advanced them the money, keeping the +watches as security, and sent them home after an expedition which lasted +a fortnight altogether. There is no doubt as to the facts of the case. +The boys did actually start, with intent to march all the way across +Europe as far as Russia and back again. But how they began, how they +raised the money to pay the preliminary expenses, wants more light. +Also, there is no record as to their reception after they got home +again. One suspects somehow that on this occasion the fatted calf was +allowed to go on growing.</p> + +<p>It must have been about this time that the lad began to have his bookish +learning remarked and respected, if not encouraged. One of the upper +rooms of the farmhouse—the other was the cheese-room—was set apart for +him alone. Here he had his books, his table, his desk, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> his bed. +This room was sacred. Here he read; here he spent all his leisure time +in reading. He read during this period an immense quantity. Shakespeare, +Chaucer, Scott, Byron, Dryden, Voltaire, Goethe—he was never tired of +reading Faust—and it is said, but I think it must have been in +translation, that he read most of the Greek and Latin masters. It is +evident from his writings that he had read a great deal, yet he lacks +the touch of the trained scholar. That cannot be attained by solitary +and desultory reading, however omnivorous. His chief literary adviser in +those days was Mr. William Morris, of Swindon, proprietor and editor of +the <i>North Wilts Advertiser</i>. Mr. Morris is himself the author of +several works, among others a "History of Swindon," and, as becomes a +literary man with such surroundings, he is a well-known local antiquary. +Mr. Morris allowed the boy, who was at school with his own son, the run +of his own library; he lent him books, and he talked with him on +subjects which, one can easily understand, were not topics of +conversation at Coate. Afterwards, when Jefferies had already<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> become +reporter for the local press, it was the perusal of a descriptive paper +by Mr. Morris, on the "Lakes of Killarney," which decided the lad upon +seriously attempting the literary career.</p> + +<p>What inclined the lad to become a journalist? First of all, the narrow +family circumstances prevented his being brought up to one of the +ordinary professions: he might have become a clerk; he might have gone +to London, where he had friends in the printing business; he might have +emigrated, as his brother afterwards did; he might have gone into some +kind of trade. As for farming, he had no taste for it; the idea of +becoming a farmer never seems to have occurred to him as possible. But +he could not bear the indoor life; to be chained all day long to a desk +would have been intolerable to him; it would have killed him; he needed +such a life as would give him a great deal of time in the open air. Such +he found in journalism. His friend, Mr. Morris, gave him the first start +by printing for him certain sketches and descriptive papers. And he had +the courage to learn shorthand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>He had already before this begun to write.</p> + +<p>"I remember"—I quote from a letter which has already furnished +information about these early days—"that he once showed his brother a +roll of manuscript which he said 'meant money' some day." It was +necessary in that house to think of money first.</p> + +<p>I wonder what that manuscript was. Perhaps poetry—a clever lad's first +attempt at verse; there is never a clever lad who does not try his hand +at verse. Perhaps it was a story—we shall see that he wrote many +stories. At that time his handwriting was so bad that when he began to +feed the press, the compositors bought him a copybook and a penholder +and begged him to use it. He did use it, and his handwriting presently +became legible at least, but it remained to the end a bad handwriting. +His note-books especially are very hard to read.</p> + +<p>He was left by his father perfectly free and uncontrolled. He was +allowed to do what he pleased or what he could find to do. This liberty +of action made him self-reliant. It also, perhaps, increased his habit +of solitude<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> and reserve. In those days he used to draw a great deal, +and is said to have acquired considerable power in pen-and-ink sketches, +but I have never seen any of them.</p> + +<p>At this period he was careless as to his dress and appearance; he +suffered his hair to grow long until it reached his coat collar. "This," +says one who knew him then, "with his bent form and long, rapid stride, +made him an object of wonder in the town of Swindon. But he was +perfectly unconscious of this, or indifferent to it."</p> + +<p>Later on, he understood better the necessity of paying attention to +personal appearance, and in his advice to the young journalist he points +out that he should be quietly but well dressed, and that he should study +genial manners.</p> + +<p>In appearance Richard Jefferies was very tall—over six feet. He was +always thin. At the age of seventeen his friends feared that he would go +into a decline, which was happily averted—perhaps through his love for +the open air. His hair was dark-brown; his beard was brown, with a shade +of auburn; his forehead both high and broad; his features strongly +marked; his nose long, clear, and straight;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> his lower lip thick; his +eyebrows distinguished by the meditative droop; his complexion was fair, +with very little colour. The most remarkable feature in his face was his +large and clear blue eye; it was so full that it ought to have been +short-sighted, yet his sight was far as well as keen. His face was full +of thought; he walked with somewhat noiseless tread and a rapid stride. +He never carried an umbrella or wore a great-coat, nor, except in very +cold weather, did he wear gloves. He had great powers of endurance in +walking, but his physical strength was never great. In manner, as has +been already stated, he was always reserved; at this time so much so as +to appear morose to those who knew him but slightly. He made few +friends. Indeed, all through life he made fewer friends than any other +man. This was really because, for choice, he always lived as much in the +country as possible, and partly because he had no sympathy with the +ordinary pursuits of men. Such a man as Richard Jefferies could never be +clubable. What would he talk about at the club? The theatre? He never +went there. Literature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> of the day? He seldom read it. Politics? He +belonged to the people, and cursed either party. That once said, he had +nothing more to say. Art? He had ideas of his own on painting, and they +were unconventional. Gossip and scandal? He never heard any. Wine? He +knew nothing about wine. Yet to those whom he knew and trusted he was +neither reserved nor morose. An eremite would be driven mad by chatter +if he left his hermitage and came back to his native town; so this +roamer among the hills could not endure the profitless talk of man, +while Nature was willing to break her silence for him alone among the +hills and in the woods.</p> + +<p>He became, then, a journalist. It is a profession which leaves large +gaps in the day, and sometimes whole days of leisure. The work, to such +a lad as Jefferies, was easy; he had to attend meetings and report them; +to write descriptive papers; to furnish and dress up paragraphs of news; +to look about the town and pick up everything that was said or done; to +attend the police courts, inquests, county courts, auctions, markets, +and every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>thing. The life of a country journalist is busy, but it is in +great measure an out-door life.</p> + +<p>Although Mr. Morris was his first literary friend and adviser, Jefferies +was never attached to his paper as reporter. Perhaps there was no +vacancy at the time. He obtained work on the <i>North Wilts Herald</i>, and +afterwards became in addition the Swindon correspondent of the <i>Wilts +and Gloucestershire Standard</i>, published at Cirencester. The editor of +the <i>North Wilts Herald</i> was a Mr. Piper, who died two years ago. Of him +Jefferies always spoke with the greatest respect, calling him his old +master. But in what sense he himself was a pupil I know not. Nor can I +gather that Jefferies, who acquired his literary style much later, and +after, as will be seen, the production of much work which has deservedly +fallen into oblivion, learned anything as a writer from anybody. In the +line which he afterwards struck out for himself—that of observations of +nature—his master, as regards the subject-matter, was his father; as +regards his style he had no master.</p> + +<p>He filled these posts and occupied himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> in this kind of work between +the years 1865 and 1877.</p> + +<p>But he did other things as well, showing that he never intended to sit +down in ignoble obscurity as the reporter of a country newspaper.</p> + +<p>I have before me a little book called "Reporting, Editing, and +Authorship," published without date at Swindon, and by John Snow and +Co., Ivy Lane, London. I think it appeared in the year 1872, when he was +in his twenty-fourth year. It is, however, the work of a very young man; +the kind of work at which you must not laugh, although it amuses you, +because it is so very much in earnest, and at the same time so very +elementary. You see before you in these pages the ideal +reporter—Jefferies was always zealous to do everything that he had to +do as well as it could be done. It is divided into three chapters, but +the latter two are vague and tentative, compared with the first. The +little book should have been called, "He would be an Author."</p> + +<p>"Let the aspirant," he says, "begin with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> acquiring a special knowledge +of his own district. The power and habit of doing this may subsequently +stand him in good stead as a war-correspondent. Let him next study the +trade and industries peculiar to the place. If he is able to write of +these graphically, he will acquire a certain connection and good-will +among the masters. He will strengthen himself if he contributes papers +upon these subjects to the daily papers or to the magazines; thus he +will grow to be regarded as a representative man. Next, he should study +everywhere the topography, antiquities, traditions, and general +characteristics of the country wherever he goes; he should visit the +churches, and write about them. He may go on to write a local history, +or he may take a local tradition and weave a story round about +it—things which local papers readily publish. Afterwards he may write +more important tales for country newspapers, and so by easy stages rise +to the grandeur of writing tales for the monthly magazines." Observe +that so far the ambition of the writer is wholly in the direction of +novels.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>One piece of advice contrasts strongly with the description of him given +by his cousin. He has found out that eccentricity of appearance and +manner does not advance a man. Therefore he writes:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"A good personal manner greatly conduces to the success of the +reporter. He should be pleasant and genial, but not loud: inquiring +without being inquisitive: bold, but not presumptuous: and above +all respectful. The reporter should be able to talk on all subjects +with all men. He should dress well, because it obtains him +immediate attention: but should be careful to avoid anything +'horsey' or fast. The more gentlemanly his appearance and tone, the +better he will be received."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The chapter on Editing gives a tolerably complete account of the conduct +of a country-town newspaper. The chapter on Authorship is daring, +because the writer as yet knew nothing whatever of the subject. Among +other mistakes is the very common one of supposing that a young man can +help himself on by publishing at his own expense a manu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>script which all +the respectable publishing houses have refused. He himself subsequently +acted upon this mistake, and lost his money without in the least +advancing his reputation. The young writer can seldom be made to +understand that all publishers are continually on the look-out for good +work; that good work is almost certain (though mistakes have been made) +to be taken up by the first publisher to whom it is offered; that if it +is refused by good Houses, the reason is that it is not good work, and +that paying for publication will not turn bad work into good. Jefferies +concludes his little book by so shocking a charge against the general +public that it shall be quoted just to show what this country lad of +nineteen or twenty thought was the right and knowing thing to say about +them:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The public will read any commonplace clap-trap if only a +well-known name be attached to it. Hence any amount of expenditure +is justified with this object. It is better at once to realize the +fact, however unpleasant it may be to the taste, and instead of +trying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> to win the good-will of the public by laborious work, treat +literature as a trade, which, like other trades, requires an +immense amount of advertising."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This is Jefferies' own ideal of a journalist. In March, 1866, being then +eighteen years of age, he began his work on the <i>North Wilts Herald</i>.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>LETTERS FROM 1866 TO 1872.</h3> + + +<p>The principal sources of information concerning the period of early +manhood are the letters—a large number of these are happily +preserved—which he wrote to his aunt, Mrs. Harrild. In these letters, +which are naturally all about himself, his work, his hopes, and his +disappointments, he writes with perfect freedom and from his heart. It +is still a boyish heart, young and innocent. "I always feel dull," he +says, "when I leave you. I am happier with you than at home, because you +enter into my prospects with interest and are always kind.... I wish I +could have got something to do in the neighbourhood of Sydenham, which +would have enabled me to live with you."</p> + +<p>The letters reveal a youth taken too soon from school, but passionately +fond of reading<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>—of industry and application intense and unwearied; he +confesses his ambitions—they are for success; he knows that he has the +power of success within him; he tries for success continually, and is as +often beaten back, because, though this he cannot understand, in the way +he tries success is impossible for him. Let us run through this bundle +of letters.</p> + +<p>One thing to him who reads the whole becomes immediately apparent, +though it is not so clear from the extracts alone. It is the +self-consciousness of the writer as regards style. That is because he is +intended by nature to become a writer. He thinks how he may put things +to the best advantage; he understands the importance of phrase; he wants +not only to say a thing, but to say it in a striking and uncommon +manner. Later on, when he has gotten a style to himself, he becomes more +familiar and chatty. Thus, for instance, the boy speaks of the great +organ at the Crystal Palace: "To me music is like a spring of fresh +water in the midst of the desert to a wearied Arab." He was genuinely +and truly fond of good music, and yet this phrase has in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> it a note of +unreality. Again, he is speaking of one of his aunt's friends, and says, +as if he was the author of "Evelina": "How is Mr. A.? I remember him as +a pleasant gentleman, anxious not to give trouble, and the result is ..." +and so forth. When one understands that these letters were written by +the immature writer, such little things, with which they abound, are +pleasing.</p> + +<p>In March, 1866, he describes the commencement of his work on the <i>North +Wilts Herald</i>; he speaks of the kindness of his chief and the pleasant +nature of his work. In December of the same year he sends a story which +he wants his uncle to submit to a London magazine. In June, 1867, he +writes that he has completed his "History of Swindon" and its +neighbourhood. This probably appeared in the pages of his newspaper.</p> + +<p>In the same year he says that he has finished a story called +"Malmesbury."</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Here I have no books—no old monkish records to assist +me—everything must be hunted out upon the spot. I visit every +place I have to refer to, copy inscriptions, listen to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> legends, +examine antiquities, measure this, estimate that; and a thousand +other employments essential to a correct account take up my time. +The walking I can do is something beyond belief. To give an +instance. There is a book published some twenty years ago founded +on a local legend. This I wanted, and have actually been to ten +different houses in search of it; that is, have had a good fifty +miles' walk, and as yet all in vain. However, I think I am on the +right scent now, and believe I shall get it.</p> + +<p>"This neighbourhood is a mine for an antiquary. I was given to +understand at school that in ancient days Britain was a +waste—uninhabited, rude and savage. I find this is a mistake. I +see traces of former habitation, and former generations, in all +directions. There, Roman coins; here, British arrowheads, tumuli, +camps—in short, the country, if I may use the expression, seems +alive with the dead. I am inclined to believe that this part of +North Wilts, at least, was as thickly inhabited of yore as it is +now, the difference being only in the spots inhabited having been +exchanged for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> others more adapted to the wants of the times. I do +not believe these sweeping assertions as to the barbarous state of +our ancestors. The more I study the matter the more absurd and +unfounded appear the notions popularly received."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"The spiders have been more disturbed in the last few days than for +twelve months past. I detest this cruelty to spiders. I admire +these ingenious insects. One individual has taken possession of a +box of mine. This fellow I call Cæsar Borgia, because he has such +an affection for blood. You will call him a monster, which is +praise, since his size shows the number of flies he has destroyed. +Why not keep a spider as well as a cat? They are both useful in +their way, and a spider has this advantage, that he will spin you a +web which will do instead of tapestry."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Between July 21st and September 2nd of this year he writes of a bad +illness which sent him to bed and kept him there, until he became as +thin as a skeleton. As soon as he was able to get out of bed he wrote to +his aunt; his eyes were weak, and he could read<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> but little, which was a +dreadful privation for him. And he was most anxious lest he should lose +his post on the paper.</p> + +<p>Later on he tells the good news that Mr. Piper will give him another +fortnight so that he may get a change of air and a visit to Sydenham.</p> + +<p>He goes back to Swindon apparently strengthened and in his former health +and energy. Besides his journal work he reports himself engaged upon an +"Essay on Instinct." This is the first hint of his finding out his own +line, which, however, he would not really discover for a long time yet.</p> + +<p>"The country," he says, little thinking what the country was going to do +for him, "is very quiet and monotonous. There is a sublime sameness in +Coate that reminds you of the stars that rise and set regularly just as +we go to bed down here."</p> + +<p>His grandfather—old Iden of "Amaryllis"—died in April, 1868.</p> + +<p>He speaks in June of his own uncertain prospects.</p> + +<p>"My father," he says, "will neither tell me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> what he would like done or +anything else, so that I go my own way and ask nobody...." The letters +are full of the little familiar gossip concerning this person and that, +but he can never resist the temptation of telling his aunt—who "enters +into his prospects"—all that he is doing. He has now spent two months +over a novel—this young man thinks that two months is a prodigiously +long time to give to a novel. "I have taken great pains with it," he +says, "and flatter myself that I have produced a tale of a very +different class to those sensational stories I wrote some time ago. I +have attempted to make my story lifelike by delineating character rather +than by sensational incidents. My characters are many of them drawn from +life, and some of my incidents actually took place." This is taking a +step in the right direction. One wonders what this story was. But alas! +there were so many in those days, and the end of all was the same. And +yet the poor young author took such pains, such infinite pains, and all +to no purpose, for he was still groping blindly in the dark, feeling for +himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p>His health, however, gave way again. He tells his aunt that he has been +fainting in church; that he finds his work too exciting; that his +walking powers seem to have left him—everybody knows the symptoms when +a young man outgrows his strength; he would like some quiet place; such +a Haven of Repose or Castle of Indolence, for instance, as the Civil +Service. All young men yearn at times for some place where there will be +no work to do, and it speaks volumes for the happy administration of +this realm that every young man in his yearning fondly turns his eyes to +the Civil Service.</p> + +<p>He has hopes, he says, of getting on to the reporting staff of the +<i>Daily News</i>, ignorant of the truth that a single year of work on a +great London paper would probably have finished him off for good. +Merciful, indeed, are the gods, who grant to mankind, of all their +prayers, so few.</p> + +<p>In July he was prostrated by a terrible illness, aggravated by the great +heat of that summer. This illness threatened to turn into consumption—a +danger happily averted. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> it was many months before he could sit up +and write to his aunt in pencil. He was at this time greatly under the +influence of religion, and his letters are full of a boyish, simple +piety. The hand of God is directing him, guiding him, punishing him. His +heart is soft in thinking over the many consolations which his prayers +have brought him, and of the increased benefit which he has derived from +reading the Bible. He has passed through, he confesses, a period of +scepticism, but that, he is happy to say, is now gone, never to return +again.</p> + +<p>He is able to get out of bed at last; he can read a little, though his +eyes are weak; he can once more return to his old habits, and drinks his +tea again as sweet as he can make it; he is able presently to seize his +pen again. And then ... then ... is he not going to be a great author? +And who knows in what direction? ... then he begins a tragedy called +"Cæsar Borgia; or, The King of Crime."</p> + +<p>He is touched by the thoughtfulness of the cottagers. They have all +called to ask after him; they have brought him honey. He resolves to +cultivate the poor people more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"After all," he says, with wisdom beyond his years, "books are dead; +they should not be our whole study. Too much study is selfish."</p> + +<p>Unfortunately the letters of the year 1869 have not been preserved; but +we may very well understand that the lad spent that year in much the +same way as the year before and the year after. That is to say, he wrote +for his country paper; he reported; he collected local news; and he +devoted his spare time to the writing of stories which were never to see +the light, or, more unhappy still, to perish at their birth.</p> + +<p>In the autumn of the year 1870 the letters begin again. He has now got +money enough to give himself a holiday. He is at Hastings, and he is +going across the water to Ostend. It is in September. The Prince +Imperial of France is in the place, and Jefferies hopes to see him. +There is a postscript with a characteristic touch: "I do not forget +A——. Her large and beautiful eyes have haunted me ever since our visit +to Worthing. Remember me to her, <i>but please do it privately; let no +one else know what I have said of her</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> I hope to see her again."</p> + +<p>Presently he did see the Prince, sitting at the window of his room in +the Marine Hotel. The adventures which followed were, he says in his +next letter, "almost beyond credibility."</p> + +<p>You shall hear how wonderful they were. Lying in bed one night, a happy +thought occurred to him. He would write some verses on the exile of the +Prince.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"... No sooner thought than done. I composed them that night, and +wrote them out, and posted them the first thing next morning +(Thursday). You say I am always either too precipitate or too +procrastinating. At least, I lost no time in this. A day went by, +and on Easter day there came a note to me at the hotel, from the +aide-de-camp of the Prince, acknowledging the receipt of the +verses, and saying that the Prince had been much pleased with them. +You will admit this was about enough to turn a young author's head. +Not being <i>au fait</i> in French, I took the note to a French lady +professor, and she translated it for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> me. I enclose the translation +for you. But does not S. learn French? If so, it would be good +practice for her to try and read the note. Please tell her to take +care of it, as it cannot be replaced, and will be of great value to +me in after-life. If I were seeking a place on a London paper the +production of that note would be a wonderful recommendation. Well, +the reception of that acknowledgment encouraged me, and on the +following morning I set to work and wrote a letter to the Prince, +communicating some rather important information which I had learnt +whilst connected with the press. The result was a second letter +from the aide-de-camp, this time dictated by the Empress Eugénie, +who had read my note. I send you this letter too, and must beg you +to carefully preserve it. I took it and had it translated by the +same French lady, Madame ——, and I enclose her translation. She +says that the expressions are very warm, and cannot be adequately +rendered into English. She says it would be impossible to write +more cordially in French than the Empress has done. Now came +another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> discovery. It came out in conversation with this French +lady that she had actually been to school with the Empress in her +youth; that they had played together, and been on picnics together. +Her husband was a sea-commander, and she showed me his belt, etc. +He served Napoleon when Napoleon was president, but protested +against the <i>coup d'état</i> of 1851, and they had then to leave +Paris. She had been unfortunate, and had now to earn her bread. She +still preserves her husband's coat-of-arms, etc. Then came another +discovery. It appeared that the equerries of the Empress (sixteen +in number), unable to speak English, had seen her advertisement and +came to her to act as interpreter. She did so. After a while it +crept out that these rascals were abusing their employer behind her +back, and even went the length of letting out private conversations +they had overheard in the Tuileries, and at the Marine Hotel. She +felt extremely indignant at this ungrateful conduct (for they are +well paid and have three months' wages in advance), and she should +like the Empress to know, but being so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> poor she could not call on +her old companion; indeed, her pride would not permit. These were +the men, she said, from whom the Prussians obtained intelligence; +and certainly they did act the part of spies. Other Frenchmen +resident here met them at an inn, and they there detailed to them +what they had learnt at the Marine Hotel. I persuaded her (she was +in a terrible way, indignant and angry) to write to my friend, the +aide-de-camp, and see him. She did so, and the consequence is that +a number of these fellows have been discharged. The Empress and the +Prince are still here, despite all paragraphs in the papers. They +drove out yesterday afternoon. I saw them...."</p></blockquote> + +<p>After this adventure Jefferies took the boat from Dover to Ostend. He +had more adventures on the journey:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"... It was a beautiful night, scarcely a breath of air, moonlight +and starlit, and a calm sea. Every little wave that broke against +the side flashed like lightning with the phosphoric light of the +zoophytes, and when at eleven the paddles began to move, great +circles of phosphoric<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> light surrounded the vessel. I was on deck +all night, for instead of being four hours as advertised, the boat +was eight hours at sea. After we had been out about four hours the +sailors mistook a light on the horizon for Ostend, and steamed +towards it. Presently the light rose higher, and proved to be the +planet Venus, shining so brilliantly. At this moment an immense +bank of fog enveloped us, so thick that one could scarcely see from +one end of the ship to the other. The captain had lost his way, and +the paddles were stopped. After a short time there was the sound of +a cannon booming over the sea. Everyone rushed on deck, thinking of +war and ironclads; but it was the guns at Ostend, far away, firing +to direct ships into port through the fog. It was now found that we +had actually got about opposite Antwerp. So the ship was turned, +and we slowly crept back, afraid of running on shore. Then, after +an hour or two of this, we got into shallow water, and the lead was +heaved every minute. The steam-whistle was sounded, and the guns on +shore again fired. To our surprise, we had run past Ostend almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +as much the other way, thanks to the fog. Now I heard a bell +ringing on shore—the matin bell—and you cannot imagine how +strange that bell sounded. You must understand no shore was +visible. More firing and whistling, until people began to think we +should have to remain till the fog cleared. But I did not grumble; +rather, I was glad, for this delay gave me the opportunity of +seeing the sun, just as the fog cleared, rise at sea—an +indescribable sight:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Then over the waste of water<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The morning sun uprose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the driving mist revealed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like the lifting of the Host<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By incense clouds almost<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Concealed.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A boat finally came off and piloted us into harbour, which we +reached at seven o'clock Saturday morning—eight hours' passage. +Numbers were ill—the ladies, most dreadfully; I did not feel a +qualm. I went on by the next train at 9.30 to Brussels, and reached +it at one o'clock...."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Brussels, at this moment, was full of French people mad with grief and +excitement at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> conduct of the war and the disasters of their +country. Jefferies does not appear, however, to have been much struck +with the terror and pity of the situation. It was his first experience +of foreign life, not counting his boyish escapade; his delight in the +hotel, the <i>table d'hôte</i>, the wine, the brightness and apparent +happiness of the Brussels people—they do somehow seem younger and +happier than any other people in the world, except, perhaps, the +Marseillais—is very vividly expressed. The ladies dazzle him; he thinks +of "our London dowdies" and shudders; but alas! he cannot talk to them.</p> + +<p>Then he goes back to Swindon, but not, for the present, to Coate. There +is trouble at home. His father has to be brought round gradually to look +at things from his son's point of view. Till that happy frame of mind +has been arrived at he cannot go home. But his mother visits him, and so +far as she is concerned all is well. He is out of work and has no +money—two shillings and threepence can hardly be called money. +Meantime, his mind is still excited by his recent experiences. He will +never be happy in the country again;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> he must find a place in London. It +is the kind aunt who fills his purse with a temporary supply.</p> + +<p>The following letter relates the difficulties of finding work:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"... It is now four months since I last saw you, and during that +time I have unremittingly endeavoured to get money by all the fair +means I could think of. Scarcely a day has passed without making +some attempt, or without maturing some plan, and yet all of them, +as if by some kind of fate, have failed. I have written all sorts +of things. Very few were rejected, but none brought any return. I +have endeavoured to get employment, but there is none within reach. +My old place has been filled up for months, and I could not recover +it without resorting to unfair means, unless by some unforeseen +accident. The other two papers here are sufficiently supplied with +reporters, and though ready enough to receive my writings, don't +pay a farthing. There remains a paper at Marlborough to which I +applied. They were quite ready to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> employ me, but said that, as +their circulation at Swindon was very small, they could give but a +small price—quoting a sum which absolutely would not buy me a +dinner once a week. This was no good. Other papers further off +refused entirely. As for answering advertisements, or seeking +situations in other places, it was useless, from the following +circumstance. In the autumn a large London paper failed, and the +staff was thrown out. The consequence was, that the market became +overstocked with reporters, and all vacancies were speedily filled. +My next step was to try the London papers, especially the <i>Pall +Mall</i>, with which I have had more or less connection for years. As +I told you, three of the Dailies said if I were in town they could +give me plenty of work, but not regular employment. In other words, +one would employ me one day, another another, until an opening +occurred for regular work...."</p></blockquote> + +<p>There are other details showing that it was a terrible time of +tightness. Threatenings of county court for a debt of £2 10s.; personal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +apparel falling to pieces; work offered by the <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i> and +other papers if he would go up to London. But how? One must have enough +to pay for board and lodging for a week, at least; one must have enough +for the railway-fare; one must present a respectable appearance. And now +only a single halfpenny left! We have seen with sorrow how the young man +had been already reduced to two shillings and threepence. But this seems +affluence when we look at that solitary halfpenny. Only a halfpenny! +Why, the coin will buy absolutely nothing.</p> + +<p>Yet in this, the darkest hour, when he had no money and could get no +work—when his own people had ceased to believe in him—he still +continued to believe in himself. That kind of belief is a wonderful +medicine in time of trouble. It is sovereign against low spirits, +carelessness, and inactivity—the chief evils which follow on +ill-success.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"... I have still the firmest belief in my ultimate good-fortune +and success. I believe in destiny. Not the fear of total +indigence—for my father threatens to turn me out of doors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>—nor +the fear of disgrace and imprisonment for debt, can shake my calm +indifference and belief in my good-fortune. Though I have but a +halfpenny to-day, to-morrow I shall be rich. Besides, though I have +had a severe cold, my health and strength are wonderful. Nothing +earthly can hurt me...."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The next letter was written in July of the same year, six months later. +"I am very busy," he says, "getting well known as a writer. Both Swindon +papers employ me; but I am chiefly occupied with my book. I work at it +almost night and day. I feel sure it will succeed. If it does not, I +know nothing that will, and I may as well at once give up the +profession."</p> + +<p>I do not think there is anything in the world more full of pity and +interest than the spectacle of a clever young man struggling for +literary success. He knows, somehow he feels in his heart, that he has +the power. It is like a hidden spring which has to be found, or a secret +force which has to be set in motion, or a lamp which has to be set +alight. This young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> man was feeling after that secret force; he was +looking for that lamp. For eight long years he had been engaged in the +search after this most precious of all treasures. What was it like—the +noblest part of himself—that which would never die? Alas! he knew not. +He hardly knew as yet that it was noble at all. So his search carried +him continually farther from the thing which he would find.</p> + +<p>On July 28 he writes a most joyful letter. He has achieved a feat which +was really remarkable; in fact, he has actually received a letter from +Mr. Disraeli himself on the subject of a work prepared by himself. It +will be observed that by a natural confusion he mixes up the success of +getting a letter from this statesman with the success of his book.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"... I told you that I had been bending all my energies to the +completion of a work. I completed it a short time since, and an +opportunity offering, I wrote to Disraeli, describing it, and +asking his opinion. You know he is considered the cleverest man in +England; that he is the head of the rich and powerful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> Conservative +Party; and that he is a celebrated and very successful author. His +reply came this morning:</p> + + +<div class="right">'Grosvenor Gate.<br /></div> +<p>'<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,<br /> +</p> + +<p>'The great pressure of public affairs at the present moment must +be my excuse for not sooner replying to your interesting letter, +which I did not like to leave to a secretary.</p> + +<p>'I think the subject of your work of the highest interest, and I +should have confidence in its treatment from the letter which you +have done me the honour of addressing to me. I should recommend you +to forward your MS. to some eminent publisher whom interest and +experience would qualify to judge of it with impartiality.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Believe me, dear sir,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'With every good wish,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Your faithful servant,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><span class="smcap">B. Disraeli.</span>'</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"A recognition like this from so great an intellectual leader is a +richer reward to one's self than the applause of hundreds, or than +any money can possibly be. And it is a guarantee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> of success, even +in a money sense; for what publisher would not grasp at a work +commended by Disraeli? This is a day of triumph to me. In an +obscure country village, personally totally unknown, name never +heard of, without the least assistance from any living person, +alone and unaided, I have achieved the favourable opinion of the +man who stands highest in our age for intellectual power, who +represents the nobility, gentry, and clergy of the land, who is the +leader of half England. This, too, after enduring the sneers and +bitter taunts of so many for idleness and incapacity. Hard, indeed, +have I worked these many months since I last saw you, and at all +times it has been my intention—and looked forward to as a +reward—to write and tell you of my success. And at last—at last! +Write to me and tell me you rejoice, for without someone to rejoice +with you, success itself is cold and barren. My success is now +assured...."</p></blockquote> + +<p>A few days later he has to tell his aunt of another brilliant success of +the same shadowy character. He calls it a "singular stroke of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> good +fortune." One of the best publishing houses in London had promised to +consider his new novel—which of his new novels was it?—carefully.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I cannot help thinking that their 'full consideration' is a very +promising phrase. I really do think that I am now upon the +threshold of success.... The idea of writing the book came to me by +a kind of inspiration, and not from study or thought. I am now +engaged upon a magazine article, which I think will meet the taste +of the public. Since finishing the book, I have written a play +which can either be published or acted, as circumstances prove most +propitious. I have also sketched out a short tale, founded on fact, +and have sent the MS. of a history of Swindon to the local paper, +and expect a fair sum for it. I am engaged to go to Gloucester next +week for a day—perhaps two—to report a trial. So that you see I +am not idle, and have my hands as full as they can hold."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Quite as full as they can hold; and all the time he is drifting further +and further from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> the haven where he would be. Yet his fortune lies at +his feet, if he will but stoop to pick it up. It lies in the hedges, and +in the fields, and woods; it lies upon the hillside. He can see it red +as gold, flashing with the splendid light of a million diamonds, if he +will open his eyes. But the time is not yet.</p> + +<p>The firm of publishers declined, but in courteous and even flattering +terms, to publish the work in question. The author at once made up his +mind that the book was not "in their line," and sent the MS. to another +firm.</p> + +<p>The second firm apparently declined the work; but in another month the +author writes triumphantly that Messrs. —— are going to publish it. +Now nothing remains but to settle the price.</p> + +<p>"I cannot help," he says, "feeling this a moment of great triumph, after +so much opposition from everyone. All my friends prophesied failure, and +when I refused to desist from endeavouring, grew angry with me, and +annoyed me as much as possible.... I will let you know as soon as we +have agreed upon the price, and, of course, I shall have the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> pleasure +of sending you some copies when it appears."</p> + +<p>Alas! he was mistaken. There was much more than the remuneration to be +settled before the work was published; in fact, it never was published.</p> + +<p>The last letter of the packet has no other date than May 7. From +internal evidence, however, it must have been written in the year 1873.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I have just had a great disappointment. After keeping the +manuscript of my novel more than two months, Mr. —— has written +to decline it. It really does seem like Sisyphus—just as one has +rolled the stone close to the top of the hill, down it goes again, +and all one's work has to be done over again. For some time after I +began literary work I did not care in the least about a failure, +because I had a perpetual spring of hope that the next would be +more fortunate. But now, after eight years of almost continual +failure, it is very hard indeed to make a fresh effort, because +there is no hope to sustain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> one's expectations. Still, although I +have lost hope entirely, I am more than ever <i>determined</i> to +succeed, and shall never cease trying till I do.</p> + +<p>"It seems so singular to me that, although publishers constantly +decline my works, yet if by any chance something that I have +written gets into print, everybody immediately admires it, so that +it does not seem that there is any want of ability. You remember +those letters in the <i>Times</i>? They were declined by one editor of a +much less important paper. The moment they were published everyone +admired them, and even the most adverse critics allowed that the +style and literary execution was good. I could show you a dozen +clippings from adverse newspapers to that effect. This is the +reflection that supports me under so many disappointments, because +it seems to say that it is through no fault of mine. Thinking over +this very deeply lately, and passing over in review the facts and +experience I have obtained during the last eight years, I have come +to the conclusion that it is no use for me to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> waste further time +in waiting for the decisions of publishers, but that I ought to set +to work and publish on my own account. What, then, shall I publish? +A novel costs some £60 or £80 at least. This I cannot possibly +afford; I have no friends who can afford it. I can borrow, it is +true, but that seems like putting a noose round your own neck for +some one else to hang you with. But then many authors have made a +name and even large sums of money by publishing very small +books...."</p></blockquote> + +<p>He goes on to show in his sanguine way how a little book is bound to +bring in a great profit.</p> + +<p>He then adds:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"... Having tried, therefore, every other plan for succeeding, I +have at last determined to try this. Do you not think I am right? +It is only risking a few pounds—not like £60 or £80. The first +little book I have selected to issue is a compendium of reporting +experience for the use of learners. It is almost finished—all but +binding—and the first copy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> issued you shall see. It will be +published by J. Snow and Co., 2, Ivy Lane.</p> + +<p>"Then with regard to Swindon. I have so enlarged my account of it, +and so enlarged the account of the Goddard family, that I have +determined to publish the work in two parts. First to issue the +Goddard part, by which means I shall not risk so much money, and +shall see how the thing takes. Besides, I know that the Goddards +would prefer it done in that way. I estimate the cost of the first +part at about £10; and as the manuscript has been completed and +lying idle for nearly three months, I should like to get it out at +once, but I do not like to give the order until I have the cash to +meet the bill.</p> + +<p>"You have no idea of the wretched feeling produced by incessant +disappointment, and the long, long months of weary waiting for +decisions without the least hope...."</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>GLEAMS OF LIGHT.</h3> + + +<p>With the year 1871 the early struggles of the young writer came to an +end. He had now secured his position, such as it was, on the local +press. As there are no further suggestions of parental opposition, we +may suppose that this had now ceased. Parental opposition generally +gives way when the lad shows that by following his own path he can +maintain himself. This Richard could now do. He continued, however, to +live at Coate, partly, no doubt, for economy, and partly for +convenience. His old friends point out the short cut across the fields +by which he was accustomed to walk from Coate to the office of the +paper. Local enthusiasm, however, is proverbially feeble in the case of +the native prophet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> This grows up in the after-years. The income which +a young reporter on a small country paper can make is very modest, and +the position is not one which commands the highest respect. Yet many +young fellows are satisfied and happy in such a position, because, +though they are still at the bottom of the ladder, their foot is planted +on the rung, and their hands are on the sides. Being rich, therefore, in +hope, he took the step which naturally follows success—he became +engaged. His <i>fiancée</i> was a daughter of the late Mr. Andrew Baden, at +that time occupying Dayhouse Farm, adjacent to Coate. For the present +there could be no thought of marrying, but they would wait till their +hopes were partly realized, and the golden shower should begin. Now +there were two instead of one looking for the splendid triumph of the +future. A first instalment of success came the following year, in +November, 1872—a real, indisputable success—a thing that brought money +and more work, and yet more work; a thing which, in the hands of a +practical man, would have brought work enough to last a lifetime.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> To +Jefferies it was better than this, because it presently led him—the +wanderer in the labyrinth of fruitless effort—to the line in which he +was to make his reputation, and to find his true success. Is there +anything in the world more truly delightful than the first success in +the career you have chosen and ardently desire to adorn? If one desires +to become an authority on any subject, to read your own paper in a great +magazine; if one desires to become a journalist, to have the columns of +a great paper opened to you; if one wishes to be a great novelist, to +read the reviews of your first work, and to be assured that you are on +the right track—nothing in the world surely can equal that blissful +moment.</p> + +<p>It came to this pair, thus waiting and hoping, in November, 1872, in +this wise:</p> + +<p>In the autumn of that year, the mind of the nation was beginning to be +exercised with the subject of the relations of the farmer with the +agricultural labourer. Richard Jefferies, inspired, if any man ever was, +with the thought that he knew all about the subject, sat down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> and wrote +a long letter about "The Wiltshire Labourer." This letter he sent first +to a certain London editor (name of the paper not stated), who refused +it. He then sent it to the editor of the <i>Times</i>, who not only accepted +it and printed it, but had a leader written upon it. Nor was this all. +The letter called forth many answers; to these Jefferies replied in two +more letters. The subject was noticed in the <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>, in the +<i>Spectator</i>, and in other journals. We are not here concerned with the +results of the case—Jefferies wrote on the side of the tenant farmer. +It is sufficient to note the fact of the letters and their immediate +result—namely, that Jefferies sprang at one bound into the position of +an authority on things agricultural. He dated the letters from Coate +Farm, Swindon; so that he probably appeared to the editor and to the +general public as a farmer, rather than as a newspaper reporter. To the +whole of his after-life these letters were most important. They denoted, +though as yet he knew it not, an entirely new departure. He was to +experience many a bitter disappointment over novels<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> which he ought +never to have written. There were plenty of snubs and rubs in store for +him, as there are for every literary man at every stage of his career. +Snubs and rubs are part of a profession which has an advantage quite +peculiar to itself, that everything a man does is publicly commented +upon by his brother professors writing anonymously. It is as if a +clergyman's sermons should be publicly and every week handled by brother +clergymen, or a doctor's cases by brothers of the calling; or as if a +barrister's speeches should be anonymously criticised by other +barristers. A man cannot make an ass of himself in the profession, and +expect that nobody will notice it. Not at all; the greater the mess he +makes, the more he will hear of it. Now Jefferies—poor man—was going +to make a big mess of two or three jobs before he really found himself.</p> + +<p>To be an authority on things agricultural is to speak on behalf of what +was then, and is still, the most important interest of the whole +country; to speak of agricultural labourers and of tenant farmers is to +speak of the best<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> blood of the country, the hope and stay of Great +Britain. Here was opened a chance such as comes to few. If it had been +properly followed up, if it had fallen to a practical man, there would +have been perceived here an open door leading to an honourable career, a +safe line, with a sufficient income. I mean that any of our great +newspapers would have been glad to number on its staff, and to retain, +one who could write with knowledge on things agricultural. Always, +throughout the whole of his life, Richard Jefferies wanted someone to +advise him, but never so much as at this moment. He had this splendid +chance, and he threw it away, not deliberately, but from ignorance and +want of aptitude in business.</p> + +<p>Yet the letters mark a new departure, for they made him write about the +country. Success was before him at last, though not in the way he hoped.</p> + +<p>The first letter to the <i>Times</i> was, for a young man of twenty-four, a +most remarkable production. It was crammed with facts and information. +In point of style it was clear and strong, without any faults of fine +writing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> It would be taken—I have no doubt at all that the editor so +received it—as the letter of a clear-headed, well-informed, middle-aged +Wiltshire farmer. He writes at full length, covering two columns and a +quarter of the <i>Times</i>, in small print. The letter itself is so curious, +as giving an account of a condition of things which has already greatly +changed in the sixteen years since it was written, that I have placed it +for preservation in an appendix to this volume. The leader on the +subject in the <i>Times</i> of the same day thus sums up the case:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"When so much is done for labourers by an improved class of +landlords and tenants, and when it is evident that they cannot but +share the general advance of wages, what is it that remains to be +done? There can be no doubt about it, and we commend it to the +attention of the talkative gentlemen who are making fine speeches +and backing up the labourer to a stand-up fight with his employer. +It is the labourer himself who wants improvement. He will do +every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>thing for himself so very badly. He will not show +common-sense in his cottage—if it is his own choice—or his +clothing, or his food, or in his general arrangements. He will +insist on poisoning the air of his cottage, his well, or the stream +that runs past his door. He will not bestow half an hour on some +needful repair which he thinks a landlord ought to do for him. He +goes to the worst market for his provisions, buying everything on +credit and in the smallest quantities. He allows a waste that would +not be tolerated in wealthier households. He will not second with +home discipline the efforts made to instruct his children at the +school. He will still permit it to be almost impossible that his +children shall be taught in the same room or play in the same +ground with the children of his employer. In a word, he will not do +his part—no easy one, it is true, yet not impossible. He escapes +from thought, effort, and responsibility at the village 'public,' +and lets his household go its way. Of course, he is only doing what +many of his betters are doing in his own class and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> condition. But +there is the same to be said of all. If men are to rise, it must be +done by themselves, for the whole world will never raise, or better +appreciably, those who will not raise themselves."</p></blockquote> + +<p>You have already seen the letter written in May, 1873, in which he +speaks despairingly of his efforts and his ill-success; in fact, he +allowed a whole year to elapse without following up the advantage and +experience acquired by these letters. It seems incredible. Meanwhile he +was muddling his time, and perhaps his money, in bringing out things +from which neither money nor honour could be expected. The first of +these was the little book I have already noticed, on reporting and +journalism. It would be curious to learn the pecuniary result of this +volume.</p> + +<p>The next volume was a "Family History of the Goddards of North Wilts." +Now, if the Goddards were anxious to have their history written, they +might have paid for it. Perhaps they did pay for the work, but I find no +record of their doing so. Perhaps they thought that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> Swindon would rally +round the Goddard flag, and eagerly buy the book. I have not read the +work; but it had the honour of getting a notice from the <i>Athenæum</i>, +which the author heroically cut out and preserved. The plain truth was +spoken in that notice, and the most was made of a very unfortunate +mistake of a place, a date, and a poet, concerning which the curious may +consult the <i>Athenæum</i> for the year 1873.</p> + +<p>The results of publishing at his own expense were, we suppose, so +satisfactory that Jefferies in 1874 brought out his first novel—"The +Scarlet Shawl"—on that delightful method. It is always in vain that one +assures a young writer that works which publishers with one consent +refuse must be commercially worthless; it is always in vain that one +preaches, exhorts, and implores the inexperienced not to throw away +their money in the vain hope of getting it back with profit of gold and +glory. They will do it. There are always publishing houses of a kind +which are ready to print young writers' crude and foolish works at their +own risk, and to talk vaguely before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>hand of enormous profits to be +shared. Poor wretches! they never get any profits. Nobody ever buys any +copies. There is never for the unfortunate writer any gold or any glory, +but only sure, certain, and bitter disappointment.</p> + +<p>As yet, Jefferies still clung to his old ideas, and had learned none of +the lessons which the <i>Times</i> letters should have taught him. Therefore +he brought out three novels in succession (see Chapter VI.), never +getting any single advantage or profit out of them except the pain of +shattered hopes, the loss of money, and the most contemptuous notices in +the reviews.</p> + +<p>We are in the year 1874. Apparently, Jefferies has had his chance, and +has thrown it away. He is six-and-twenty years of age—it is youth, but +this young man has only twelve more years of life, and none of his work +has yet been done. Why—why did no one tear him away from his vain and +futile efforts? See, he toils day after day, with an energy which +nothing can repress—a resolution to succeed which sustains him through +all his disappointments. He covers acres of paper,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> and all to no +purpose; for no one has told him the simplest law of all—that Art is +imitation. One must not close the shutters, light the lamp, and then +paint a flower one has never seen, as the painter thinks it ought to +have been. Yet this is what Jefferies was doing. The young country lad, +who knew no other society than that of the farm and the country town, +was wasting and spoiling his life in writing about people and things +whom he imagined. He was painting the flower he had never seen as he +thought it ought to be.</p> + +<p>Well, the great success of the <i>Times</i> letters seemed to have led to +nothing. Yet it gave him a better position in his native place. His work +was now so assured, and his income so much improved—though still +slender enough—that in July, 1874, after a three years' engagement, he +was married.</p> + +<p>For the first six months of their marriage the young pair lived on at +Coate. They then removed to a small house in Victoria Street, Swindon, +where their first child was born. It is a happy thing to think that it +was in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> first year of his wedded life that Jefferies brushed away +the cobwebs from his brain, left the old things behind him for ever, and +stepped out upon the greensward, the hillside, the forest, and the +meadows, where he was to walk henceforth until the end. It was time, +indeed, to throw away his novels of society, to put away the unreal +rubbish, to forget the foolish dreams, to let the puppets who could +never have lived lie dust-covered in the limbo of false and conventional +novels. Where is it, that limbo? Welcome, long-desired flowers of May! +Welcome, fragrant breath of the breezy down!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>FIRST YEARS OF SUCCESS.</h3> + + +<p>Jefferies made his way to the fields through the farmers first and the +labourers next.</p> + +<p>He wrote a paper for <i>Fraser's Magazine</i> (December, 1873) on the "Future +of Farming," which attracted a considerable amount of attention. The +<i>Spectator</i> had an article upon it. The paper is full of bold +speculations and prophecies; as, for instance:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"We may, then, look to a time when farming will become a commercial +speculation, and will be carried on by large joint-stock concerns, +issuing shares of ten, fifteen, or fifty pounds each, and occupying +from three to ten thousand acres. Such companies would, perhaps, +purchase the entire sewage of an adjacent town. Their buildings, +their streets of cattle-stalls,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> would be placed on a slope +sheltered from the north-east, but near the highest spot on the +estate, so as to distribute manure and water from their reservoirs +by the power of gravitation. A stationary steam-engine would crush +their cake, and pulp their roots, pump their water, perhaps even +shear their sheep. They would employ butchers and others, a whole +staff, to kill and cut up bullocks in pieces suitable for the +London market, transmitting their meat straight to the salesman, +without the intervention of the dealer. That salesman would himself +be entirely in the employ of the company, and sell no other meat +but what they supplied him with. This would at once give a larger +profit to the producer, and a lower price (in comparison) to the +public. In summer, meat might be cooled by the ice-house, or +refrigerator, which must necessarily be attached to the company's +bacon factory. Except in particular districts, it is hardly +probable that the dairy would be united with the stock-farm; but if +so, the ice-house would again come into requisition, and there +would be a condensed-milk factory on the premises."</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>This was going back to the right line. He seems, however, to have done +no more in this line until August of the next year (the month after his +marriage), when he returned in earnest to the rural life, and never +afterwards left it. His earliest and fastest friend was <i>Fraser's +Magazine</i>, now, alas! defunct. But he was speedily engaged to write for +other papers and magazines. His real literary life, in fact, may be said +to begin at this period. The "Farmer at Home" was the title of this +paper singled out by the <i>Spectator</i> as the best of all the papers for +the month. Here there occurs a really striking passage on the "Farmer's +Creed." They live, says the writer, amid conditions so unchanging that +they have acquired a creed of their own, which they rarely express, +never discuss, and never fail to act upon.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"... In no other profession do the sons and the daughters remain so +long, and so naturally, under the parental roof. The growth of half +a dozen strong sons was a matter of self-congratulation, for each +as he came to man's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> estate took the place of a labourer, and so +reduced the money expenditure. The daughters worked in the dairy, +and did not hesitate to milk occasionally, or, at least, to labour +in the hay-field. They spun, too, the home-made stuffs in which all +the family were clothed. A man's children were his servants. They +could not stir a step without his permission. Obedience and +reverence to the parent was the first and greatest of all virtues. +Its influence was to extend through life, and through the whole +social system. They were to choose the wife or the husband approved +of at home. At thirty, perhaps, the more fortunate of the sons were +placed on farms of their own nominally, but still really under the +father's control. They dared not plough or sow except in the way +that he approved. Their expenditure was strictly regulated by his +orders. This lasted till his death, which might not take place for +another twenty years. At the present moment I could point out ten +or twelve such cases, where men of thirty or forty are in farms, +and to all appearance perfectly free and independent, and yet as +com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>pletely under the parental thumb as they were at ten years +old.... These men, if they think thus of their own offspring, +cannot be expected to be more tender towards the lower class around +them. They did at one time, and some still wish to, extend the same +system to the labouring population.... They did not want only to +indulge in tyranny; what they did was to rule the labouring poor in +the same way as they did their own children—nothing more nor less. +These labouring men, like his own children, must do as the farmer +thought best. They must live here or there, marry so and so, or +forfeit favour—in short, obey the parental head. Each farmer was +king in his own domain; the united farmers of a parish were kings +of the whole place. They did not use the power circumstances gave +them harshly, but they paid very little regard to the liberty of +the subject.... In religion it is, or lately was, the same. It was +not a matter with the farmer of the Athanasian Creed, or the +doctrine of salvation by faith, or any other theological dogma. To +him the parish church was the centre of the social<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> system of the +parish. It was the keystone of that parental plan of government +that he believed in. The very first doctrine preached from the +pulpit was that of obedience. 'Honour thy father and thy mother' +was inculcated there every seventh day. His father went to church, +he went to church himself, and everybody else ought to go. It was +as much a social gathering as the dinner at the market ordinary, or +the annual audit dinner of their common landlord. The Dissenter, +who declined to pay Church-rates, was an unsocial person. He had +left the circle. It was not the theology that they cared about, it +was the social nonconformity. In a spiritual sense, too, the +clergyman was the father of the parish, the shepherd of the +flock—it was a part of the great system. To go a step farther, in +political affairs the one leading idea still threaded itself +through all. The proper Parliamentary representative—the natural +law-giver—was the landlord of the district. He was born amongst +them, walked about amongst them, had been in their houses many a +time. He knew their wants, their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> ideas, their views. His own +interest was identical with theirs. Therefore he was the man."</p></blockquote> + +<p>A third paper, called "John Smith's Shanty," gave a picture of the +agricultural labourer's life. He here began, timidly at first, to leave +the regions of hard actual fact, and to venture upon the higher flights +of poetic and ideal work, but poetry based upon the actual facts. Yet +not to leave altogether the journalistic methods. Thus, he wrote for +<i>Fraser</i> a paper on "The Works at Swindon," which was simply a newspaper +descriptive article, and one on "Allotment Gardens" for the <i>New +Quarterly Review</i>. This was like his "Future of Farming"—a wholly +practical paper. One of the new principles, he says, that is now +gradually entering the minds of the masses, is a belief that each +individual has a right to a certain share in the land of his birth. That +was written twelve years ago. Since that time this belief has extended +far and wide. There are now books and papers which openly advocate the +doctrine that the land is the property of the people. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> is no longer a +question which is asked, an answer which has to be whispered on account +of its great temerity: it is a doctrine openly held and openly taught. +But Jefferies was the first to find it out. He heard the whisper in the +cottage and in the village ale-house; the reeds beside the brook +whispered it to him. If, he thinks, every labouring man had his +allotment, he would cease to desire the general division of the land.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"If it is possible to find ground near enough to the residence of +the population to be practically useful as cemeteries, there can be +no valid reason why spaces should not be available for a system of +gardens. Numerous companies have been formed for the purpose of +supplying the workmen with houses; the building societies and their +estates are situated outside the city, but within easy reach by +rail. Why should not societies exist and flourish for the equally +useful object of providing the workman with a garden? If the plan +of universal division of land were thoroughly carried out, it +follows that the cities would disappear,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> since, to obtain a bare +living out of the four acres, a man must live on or very near to +it, and spend his whole time in attending to it. But the extent of +allotment-ground which such a society as this would provide for the +workman must not be so large as to require any more attention than +he could pay to it in the evening, or the Saturday afternoon, or at +most in a day or so of absence from his work. He would have, of +course, to go to his allotment by rail, and rail costs money. But +how many thousands of workmen at this very hour go to their work +day by day by rail, and return home at night; and the sum of money +they thus expend must collectively be something enormous in the +course of a year! To work his allotment he would have no necessity +to visit it every day, or hardly every week. Such an +allotment-ground must be under the direction of a proper staff of +officers, for the distribution of lots, the collection of rent, the +prevention of theft, and generally to maintain the necessary order. +Looked at in this light, the extension of the allotment system to +large towns does not hold out any very great diffi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>culties. The +political advantage which would accrue would be considerable, as a +large section of the population would feel that one at least of +their not altogether frivolous complaints was removed. As a +pecuniary speculation, it is possible that such a society would pay +as well as a building society; for the preliminary expenses would +be so small in comparison. A building society has to erect blocks +of houses before it can obtain any return; but merely to plough, +and lay out a few fields in regular plots, and number them on a +plan, is a light task. If the rent was not paid, the society could +always seize the crops; and if the plot was not cultivated in a +given time, they might have a rule by which the title to it should +be vacated. To carry the idea further, a small additional payment +per annum might make the plot the tenant's own property. This would +probably act as a very powerful inducement."</p></blockquote> + +<p>In the year 1874 he meditates a great work, which he began but never +finished, using up his notes in after-years for what is really the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> same +subject treated with more literary finish and style than he had as yet +acquired. He proposes (May 20th) to Messrs. Longmans to write a great +book in two volumes on the whole Land Question. The first volume he +proposes to call "Tenant and Labourer;" the second, "Land and Landlord." +He will deal, he says, with the subject in an "impartial and trenchant" +manner, but still "with a slightly conservative tone, so as to counsel +moderation." On June 8th he sends an instalment of two hundred +manuscript folios, proposing that the first volume shall be called "The +Agricultural Life." The chapters are to be as follows:</p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: .5em;">The Creed of the Agriculturist.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: .5em;">The Agriculturist at Home.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: .5em;">Agriculture as a Business.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: .5em;">Summary of the Farmer's Case.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V.</td><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: .5em;">The Labourer's Daily Life.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: .5em;">The Labourer's Case.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: .5em;">The Gist of the Whole Matter.</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>This proposal never came to anything; but the subject-matter was +abundantly treated by Jefferies later on. Most of the chapters will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> be +found in "Hodge and his Masters." So far, he is still, it will be +observed, the practical man. Whatever feeling he has for the poetry of +Nature, he has as yet found little expression of it. He next wrote a +paper on "Field-faring Women" for <i>Fraser</i>. He also wrote a most +delightful article for the <i>Graphic</i> on the same subject, in which the +truth is told about these women. This was the very first paper written +in his later and better style:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Those who labour in the fields require no calendar, no +carefully-compiled book of reference to tell them when to sow and +when to reap, to warn them of the flight of time. The flowers, +blooming and fading, mark the months with unfailing regularity. +When the sweet violet may be found in warm sheltered nooks, and the +sleepy snake first crawls out from under the brown leaves, then it +is time to gather the couch or roots after the plough, and to hoe +the young turnips and swedes. This is the first work of the year +for the agricultural women. It is not a pleasant work. Everyone who +has walked over a ploughed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> field remembers how the boots were +clogged with the adhesive clay, and how the continuous ridges and +furrows impeded progress. These women have to stoop and gather up +the white couch-roots, and the other weeds, and place them in heaps +to be burnt. The spring is not always soft and balmy. There comes +one lovely day, when the bright sunlight encourages the buds and +peeping leaves to push out, and then follows a week or more of the +harsh biting east wind. The arable field is generally devoid of +hedges or trees to break the force of the weather, and the +couch-pickers have to withstand its cutting rush in the open....</p> + +<p>"The cold clods of earth numb the fingers as they search for the +roots and weeds. The damp clay chills the feet through thick-nailed +boots, and the back grows stiff with stooping. If the poor woman +suffers from the rheumatism so common among the labouring class, +such a day as this will make every bone in her body ache. When at +last four o'clock comes, she has to walk a mile or two miles to her +cottage and prepare her husband's supper. In hilly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> districts, +where sheep are the staple production, it follows, of course, that +turnips and swedes, as their food, are the most important crop. +Upon the unenclosed open downs the cold of early spring is intense, +and the women who are engaged in hoeing feel it bitterly. Down in +the rich fertile valleys, in the meadows, women are at work picking +up the stones out of the way of the scythe, or beating clots about +with a short prong. All these are wretched tasks, especially the +last, and the remuneration for exposure and handling dirt very +small. But now 'green grow the rushes,' and the cuckoo-flower +thrusts its pale petals up among the rising grass. Till that grass +reaches maturity, the women in meadow districts can find no field +employment. The woods are now carpeted with acres upon acres of the +wild hyacinth, or blue-bell, and far surpass in loveliness the most +cultivated garden. The sheen of the rich deep blue shows like a +lake of colour, in which the tall ash poles stand, and in the +sunset each bell is tinged with purple. The nightingale sings in +the hazel-copse, or on the hawthorn bough, both<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> day and night, and +higher up, upon the downs, the skies are full of larks carolling at +'Heaven's gate.' But the poor woman hears them not. She has no +memories of poetry; her mind can call up no beautiful thoughts to +associate with the flower or the bird. She can sign her name in a +scrawling hand, and she can spell through simple print, but to all +intents and purposes she is completely ignorant. Therefore, she +cannot see, that is, appreciate or feel, the beauty with which she +is surrounded. Yet, despite the harsh, rude life she leads, there +works up to the surface some little instinctive yearning after a +higher condition. The yellow flowers in the cottage-garden—why is +it that cottagers are so fond of yellow?—the gilly-flower, the +single stock, marigolds, and such old-fashioned favourites, show a +desire for ornament; still more so the occasional geranium in the +window, specially tended by the wife."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Later on he returns to the subject, and relates the story of Dolly most +mournful, most tragic, full of tears and pity.</p> + +<p>He now began to alternate his practical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> and his poetical papers. For +the <i>Mark Lane Express</i> he wrote on "Village Organization"; for the +<i>Standard</i> on "The Cost of Agricultural Labour"; for the <i>Fortnightly</i> +on the "Power of the Farmer." Between these papers he wrote on +"Marlborough Forest," on "Village Churches," and on the "Average of +Beauty."</p> + +<p>The first of these three articles already reached almost the highest +level of his better style. Even for those who have never wandered in +this great and wonderful forest, the paper is wholly charming, while to +those who know the place, it is full of memories and regrets that one +has seen so little of all that this man saw.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The great painter Autumn has just touched with the tip of his +brush a branch of the beech-tree, here and there leaving an orange +spot, and the green acorns are tinged with a faint yellow. The +hedges, perfect mines of beauty, look almost red from a distance, +so innumerable are the peggles. Let not the modern Goths destroy +our hedges, so typical of an English landscape, so full of all that +can delight the eye and please the mind. Spare them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> if only for +the sake of the 'days when we went gipsying—a long time +ago'—spare them for the children to gather the flowers of May and +the blackberries of September. When the orange spot glows upon the +beech, then the nuts are ripe, and the hawthorn-bushes are hung +with festoons of the buff-coloured, heart-shaped leaves of a +once-green creeper. That 'deepe and enclosed country of Northe +Wiltes,' which old Clarendon, in his famous 'Civill Warre,' says +the troops of King Charles had so much difficulty to hurry through, +is pleasant to those who can linger by the wayside and the copse, +and do not fear to hear the ordnance make the 'woods ring again,' +though to this day a rusty old cannon-ball may sometimes be found +under the dead brown leaves of Aldbourne Chase where the skirmish +took place before 'Newbury Battle.' Perhaps it is because no such +deadly outbursts of human passions have swept along beneath its +trees that the 'Forest' is unsung by the poet, and unvisited by the +artist. Yet its very name is poetical, Savernake, <i>i.e.</i>, +savernesacre—like the God's acre of Longfellow. Saverne—a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +peculiar species of sweet fern; acre—land. So we may call it +Fern-land Forest, and with truth, for but one step beneath those +beeches away from the path plunges us to our shoulders in an ocean +of bracken. The yellow stalks, stout and strong as wood, make +walking through the brake difficult, and the route pursued devious, +till from the constant turning and twisting the way is lost. For +this is no narrow copse, but a veritable forest in which it is easy +to lose one's self; and the stranger who attempts to pass it away +from the beaten track must possess some of the Indian instinct +which sees signs and directions in the sun and wind, in the trees +and humble plants of the ground. And this is its great charm. The +heart has a yearning for the unknown, a longing to penetrate the +deep shadow and the winding glade, where, as it seems, no human +foot has been. High over head in the beech-tree the squirrel peeps +down from behind a bough—his long bushy tail curled up over his +back, and his bright eyes full of mischievous cunning. Listen, and +you will hear the tap, tap of the woodpecker, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> see, away he +goes in undulating flight with a wild, unearthly chuckle, his green +and gold plumage glancing in the sun, like the parrots of +far-distant lands. He will alight in some open space upon an +ant-hill, and lick up the red insects with his tongue. In the +fir-tree, there, what a chattering and fluttering of gaily-painted +wings—three or four jays are quarrelling noisily. These beautiful +birds are slain by scores because of their hawk-like capacities for +destruction of game, and because of the delicate colours of their +feathers, which are used in fly-fishing. There darts across the +glade a scared rabbit, straining each little limb for speed, almost +rushing against us, a greater terror overcoming the less. In a +moment there darts forth from the dried grass a fierce red-furred +hunter, a very tiger to the rabbit tribe, with back slightly +arched, bounding along, and sniffing the scent. Another, and +another, still a fourth—a whole pack of stoats (elder brothers of +the smaller weasels). In vain will the rabbit trust to his speed, +these untiring wolves will overtake him. In vain will he turn and +double, their unerring noses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> will find him out. In vain the +tunnels of the 'bury,' they will come as surely under ground as +above. At last, wearied, panting, frightened almost to death, the +timid creature will hide in a <i>cul-de-sac</i>, a hole that has no +outlet, burying its head in the sand. Then the tiny bloodhounds +will steal with swift, noiseless rush, and fasten upon the veins of +the neck. What a rattling the wings of the pigeons make as they +rise out of the trees in hot haste and alarm! As we pass a +fir-copse, we stoop down and look along the ground under the +foliage. The sharp 'needles,' or leaves, which fall will not decay, +and they kill all vegetation, so that there is no underwood or +herbage to obstruct the view. It is like looking into a vast cellar +supported upon innumerable slender columns. The pheasants run +swiftly away underneath. High up the cones are ripening—those +mysterious emblems sculptured in the hands of the gods at Nineveh, +perhaps typifying the secret of life. More bracken. What a strong, +tall fern! it is like a miniature tree. So thick is the cover, a +thousand archers might lie hid in it easily. In this wild +solitude,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> utterly separated from civilization, the whistle of an +arrow would not surprise us—the shout of a savage before he hurled +his spear would seem natural, and in keeping. What are those +strange clattering noises, like the sound of men fighting with +wooden 'back-swords'? Now it is near—now far off—a spreading +battle seems to be raging all round, but the combatants are out of +sight. But, gently—step lightly, and avoid placing the foot on +dead sticks, which break with a loud crack—softly peep round the +trunk of this noble oak, whose hard furrowed bark defends it like +armour. The red deer! Two splendid stags are fighting, fighting for +their lady-love, the timid doe. They rush at each other with head +down and horns extended—the horns meet and rattle—they fence with +them skilfully. This was the cause of the noise. It is the tilting +season—these tournaments between the knights of the forest are +going on all around. There is just a trifle of danger in +approaching these combatants, but not much, just enough to make the +forest still more enticing; none whatever to those who use common +caution.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> At the noise of our footsteps away go the stags, their +'branching antlers' seen high above the tall fern, bounding over +the ground in a series of jumps, all four feet leaving the earth at +once. There are immense oaks that we come to now, each with an open +space beneath it where Titania and the fairies may dance their +rings at night. These enormous trunks—what <i>time</i> they represent! +To us each hour is of consequence, especially in this modern day +which has invented the detestable creed that time is money. But +time is not money to Nature. She never hastens. Slowly from the +tiny acorn grew up this gigantic trunk, and spread abroad those +limbs which in themselves are trees. And from the trunk itself, to +the smallest leaf, every infinitesimal atom of which it is composed +was perfected slowly, gradually—there was no hurry, no attempt to +discount effect. A little farther, and the ground declines; through +the tall fern we come upon a valley. But the soft warm sunshine, +the stillness, the solitude have induced an irresistible idleness. +Let us lie down upon the fern, on the edge of the green<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> vale, and +gaze up at the slow clouds as they drift across the blue vault. The +subtle influence of nature penetrates every limb and every vein, +fills the soul with a perfect contentment, an absence of all wish +except to lie there half in sunshine, half in shade for ever, in a +Nirvana of indifference to all but the exquisite delight of simply +<i>living</i>. The wind in the tree-tops overhead sighs in soft music, +and ever and anon a leaf falls with a slight rustle to mark the +time. The clouds go by in rhythmic motion, the ferns whisper verses +in the ear, the beams of the wondrous sun pour in endless song, for +he also</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'In his motion like an angel sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such harmony is in immortal souls!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Time is to us now no more than it was to the oak; we have no +consciousness of it. Only we feel the broad earth beneath us, and +as to the ancient giant, so there passes through us a sense of +strength renewing itself, of vital energy flowing into the frame. +It may be an hour, it may be two hours; when without the aid of +sound or sight we become aware by an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> indescribable supersensuous +perception that living creatures are approaching. Sit up without +noise and look—there is a herd of deer feeding down the narrow +valley close at hand within a stone's-throw. And these are deer +indeed, no puny creatures, but the 'tall deer' that William the +Conqueror loved 'as if he were their father.' Fawns are darting +here and there, frisking round the does. How many may there be in +this herd?—fifty, perhaps more; nor is this a single isolated +instance, but dozens more of such herds may be found in this true +old English forest, all running free and unconstrained. But the sun +gets low. Following this broad green drive, it leads us past vistas +of endless glades going no man knows where into shadow and gloom, +past grand old oaks, past places where the edge of a veritable +wilderness comes up to the trees—a wilderness of gnarled hawthorn +trunks of unknown ages, of holly with shining metallic-green +leaves, and hazel-bushes. Past tall trees bearing the edible +chestnut in prickly clusters, past maples which in a little while +will be painted in crimson and gold, with the deer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> peeping out of +the fern everywhere, and once perhaps catching a glimpse of a shy, +beautiful milk-white doe.... Still onward, into a gravel +carriage-road now, returning by degrees to civilization, and here +with happy judgment the hand of man has aided nature. Far as the +eye can see extends an avenue of beech, passing right through the +forest. The tall smooth trunks rise up to a great height, and then +branch overhead, looking like the roof of a Gothic cathedral. The +growth is so regular and so perfect that the comparison springs +unbidden to the lip, and here, if anywhere, that order of +architecture might have taken its inspiration. There is a +continuous Gothic arch of green for miles, beneath which one may +drive or walk as in the aisles of a forest-abbey. But it is +impossible to even mention all the beauties of this place within so +short a space. It must suffice to say that the visitor may walk for +whole days in this great wood, and never pass the same spot twice. +No gates or jealous walls will bar his progress. As the fancy +seizes him so he may wander. If he has a taste for archæological +studies, especially the prehistoric,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> the edge of the forest melts +away upon downs that bear grander specimens than can be seen +elsewhere—Stonehenge and Avebury are near. The trout-fisher can +approach very close to it. The rail gives easy communication, but +has not spoilt the seclusion. Monsieur Lesseps, of Suez Canal fame, +is reported to have said that Marlborough Forest was the finest he +had seen in Europe. Certainly no one who had not seen it would +believe that a forest still existed in the very heart of Southern +England, so completely recalling those woods and 'chases' upon +which the ancient feudal monarchs set such store."</p></blockquote> + +<p>In the paper called "Village Churches," Jefferies has wholly found +himself at last. Everybody has felt the charm of the village church. The +most careless pedestrian turns by instinct into the old churchyard, and +hopes to find the church-door open. It is not the architecture that he +cares to study, but the feeling of holy peace which lingers in the +place, like the glory between the Cherubim. Let Jefferies interpret for +us:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>"The black rooks are busy in the old oak-trees carrying away the +brown acorns one by one in their strong beaks to some open place +where, undisturbed, they can feast upon the fruit. The nuts have +fallen from the boughs, and the mice garner them out of the +ditches; but the blue-black sloes cling tight to the thorn-branch +still. The first frost has withered up the weak sap left in the +leaves, and they whirl away in yellow clouds before the gusts of +wind. It is the season, the hour of half-sorrowful, half-mystic +thought, when the Past becomes a reality, and the Present a dream, +and unbidden memories of sunny days and sunny faces, seen when life +was all spring, float around:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Dim dream-like forms! your shadowy train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around me gathers once again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same as in life's morning hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before my troubled gaze you passed.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forms known in happy days you bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And much-loved shades amid you spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a tradition, half-expired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worn out with many a passing year.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"In so busy a land as ours, there is no place where the mind can, +as it were, turn in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> upon itself so fully as in the silence and +solitude of a village church. There is no ponderous vastness, no +oppressive weight of gloomy roof, no weird cavernous crypts, as in +the cathedral; only a <i>visible</i> silence, which at once isolates the +soul, separates it from external present influences, and compels +it, in falling back upon itself, to recognise its own depth and +powers. In daily life we sit as in a vast library filled with +tomes, hurriedly writing frivolous letters upon 'vexatious +nothings,' snatching our food and slumber, for ever rushing forward +with beating pulse, never able to turn our gaze away from the goal +to examine the great storehouse—the library around us. Upon the +infinitely delicate organization of the brain innumerable pictures +are hourly painted; these, too, we hurry by, ignoring them, pushing +them back into oblivion. But here, in silence, they pass again +before the gaze. Let no man know for what real purpose we come +here; tell the aged clerk our business is with brasses and +inscriptions, press half-a-crown into his hand, and let him pass to +his potato-digging. There is one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> advantage, at least, in the +closing of the church on week-days, so much complained of—to those +who do visit it there is a certainty that their thoughts will not +be disturbed. And the sense of man's presence has departed from the +walls and oaken seats; the dust here is not the dust of the +highway, of the quick footstep; it is the dust of the past. The +ancient heavy key creaks in the cumbrous lock, and the iron +latch-ring has worn a deep groove in the solid stone. The narrow +nail-studded door of black oak yields slowly to the push—it is not +easy to enter, not easy to quit the Present—but once close it, and +the living world is gone. The very style of ornament upon the +door—the broad-headed nails—has come down from the remotest +antiquity. After the battle, says the rude bard in the Saxon +chronicle,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The Northmen departed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their nailed barks,'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and earlier still the treacherous troop that seized the sleeping +magician in iron, Wayland the Smith, were clad in 'nailed armour,' +in both instances meaning ornamented with nails.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> Incidentally it +may be noted that until very recently at least one village church +in England had part of the skin of a Dane nailed to the door—a +stern reminder of the days when 'the Pagans' harried the land. This +narrow window, deep in the thick wall, has no painted magnificence +to boast of, but as you sit beside it in the square high-sided pew, +it possesses a human interest which even art cannot supply. The +tall grass growing rank on the graves without rustles as it waves +to and fro in the wind against the small diamond panes, yellow and +green with age—rustles with a melancholy sound, for we know that +this window was once far above the ground, but the earth has risen +till nearly on a level; risen from the accumulation of human +remains. Yet but a day or two before, on the Sunday morning, in +this pew, bright restless children smiled at each other, exchanged +guilty pushes, while the sunbeams from the arrow-slit above shone +upon their golden hair. Let us not think of this further. But dimly +through the window, 'as through a glass darkly,' see the green yew +with its red berries, and afar the elms and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> beeches, brown and +yellow. The steep down rises over them, and the moving gray patch +upon it is a flock of sheep. The white wall is cold and damp, and +the beams of the roof overhead, though the varnish is gone from +them, are dank with slow decay. In the recess lies the figure of a +knight in armour, rudely carved, beside his lady, still more rudely +rendered in her stiff robes, and of him an ill-spelt inscription +proudly records that he 'builded ye greate howse at'—no matter +where—but history records that cruel war wrapped it in flames +before half a generation was gone. So that the boast of his +building great houses reads as a bitter mockery. There stands +opposite a grander monument to a mighty earl, and over it hangs a +breastplate, and gauntlets of steel. The villagers will tell that +in yonder deep shady 'combe' or valley, in the thick hazel-bushes, +when the 'beetle with his drowsy hum' rises through the night air, +there comes the wicked old earl wearing this very breastplate, +these iron gloves, to expiate one evil deed of yore. And if we sit +in this pew long enough, till the mind is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> magnetized with the +spirit of the past, till the early evening sends its shadowy troops +to fill the distant corners of the silent church, then perhaps +there may come to us forms gliding noiselessly over the stone +pavement of the aisles—forms not repelling or ghastly, but filling +us with an eager curiosity. Then through the slit made for that +very purpose centuries since, when the pew was in a family chapel, +through the slit in the pillar, we may see cowled monks assemble at +the altar, muttering as magicians might over vessels of gold. The +clank of scabbards upon the stones is stilled, the rustle of gowns +is silent; if there is a sound it is of subdued sobs, as the aged +monk blesses the troop on the eve of their march. Not even yet has +the stern idol of war ceased to demand its victims; even yet brave +hearts and noble minds must perish, and leave sterile the hopes of +the elders and the love of woman. There is still light enough left +to read the few simple lines on the plain marble slab, telling how +'Lieutenant ——,' at Inkerman, at Lucknow, or later still, at +Coomassie, fell doing his duty. And these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> plain slabs are dearer +to us far than all the sculptured grandeur, all the titles and pomp +of belted earl and knight; their simple words go straighter to our +hearts than all the quaint curt Latin of the olden time. The +belfry-door is ajar—these winding-stairs are not easy of access. +The edges are worn away, and the steps strewn with small sticks of +wood; sticks once used by the jackdaws in building their nests in +the tower. It is needful to take much care, lest the foot should +stumble in the semi-darkness. Listen! there is now a slight sound; +it is the dull ticking of the old, old clock above. It is the only +thing with motion here; all else is still, and even its motion is +not life. A strange old clock; a study in itself; all the works +open and visible, simple, but ingenious. For a hundred years it has +carried round the one hour-hand upon the square-faced dial without, +marking every second of time for a century with its pendulum. Here, +too, are the bells, and one, the chief bell, is a noble tenor, a +mighty maker of sound. Its curves are full and beautiful, its +colour clear, its tone, if you do but tap it, sonorous, yet not +harsh.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> It is an artistic bell. Round the rim runs a rhyme in the +monkish tongue, which has a chime in the words, recording the +donor, and breathing a prayer for his soul. In the days when this +bell was made men put their souls into their works; their one great +object was not to turn out a hundred thousand all alike: it was +rarely they made two alike. Their one great object was to construct +a work which should carry their very spirit in it, which should +excel all similar works, and cause men in after-times to inquire +with wonder for the maker's name, whether it was such a common +thing as a knife-handle, or a bell, or a ship. Longfellow has +caught the spirit well in the Saga of the 'Long Serpent,' where the +builder of the vessel listens to axe and hammer—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'All this tumult heard the master,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was music to his ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fancy whispered all the faster,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Men shall hear of Thorberg Skafting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a hundred year!"'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Would that there were more of this spirit in the workshops of our +day! They did not, when such a work was finished, hasten to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> blaze +it abroad with trumpet and shouting; it was not carried to the +topmost pinnacle of the mountain, in sight of all the kingdoms of +the earth. They were contented with the result of their labour, and +cared little where it was placed, or who saw it; and so it is that +some of the finest-toned bells in the world are at this moment to +be found in village churches, and for so local a fame the maker +worked as truly, and in as careful a manner, as if he had known his +bell was to be hung in St. Peter's at Rome. This was the true +spirit of art. Yet it is not altogether pleasant to contemplate +this bell; the mind cannot but reflect upon the length of time it +has survived those to whose joys or sorrows it has lent a passing +utterance, and who are now dust in the yard beneath.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'For full five hundred years I've swung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In my old gray turret high,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And many a changing theme I've sung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the time went stealing by.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Even the 'old gray turret' shows more signs of age and of decay +than the bell, for it is strengthened with iron clamps and rods to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +bind its feeble walls together. Of the pavements, whose flag-stones +are monuments, the dates and names worn by footsteps; of the vaults +beneath, with their grim and ghastly traditions of coffins moved +out of place, as was supposed, by supernatural agency, but, as +explained, by water; of the thick walls in which, in at least one +village church, the trembling victim of priestly cruelty was +immured alive—of these, and a thousand other matters that suggest +themselves, there is no time to speak. But just a word must be +spared to notice one lovely spot where two village churches stand +not a hundred yards apart, separated by a stream, both in the hands +of one vicar, whose 'cure' is, nevertheless, so scant of souls, +that service in the morning in one, and in the evening in the other +church, is amply sufficient. And where is there a place where +spring-time possesses such a tender yet melancholy interest to the +heart, as in a village churchyard, where the budding leaves, and +flowers in the grass, may naturally be taken as symbolical of a +still more beautiful spring-time yet in store for the soul?"</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>FICTION, EARLY AND LATE.</h3> + + +<p>There lies before me a roll containing certain newspaper extracts pasted +on paper and sewed together. They are cuttings from the <i>North Wilts +Herald</i>, and contain a romance, entitled "A Strange Story," written +"expressly" for that paper, and signed "Geoffrey." That Geoffrey—let us +reveal a long-buried secret—was none other than Richard Jefferies +himself. The "Strange Story" was published on June 30, 1866. It is +blood-curdling; it is, in fact, the work of a boy. Between July 21 and +August 4 of the same year, a second tale appeared by the same author; it +is called "Henrique Beaumont." There is a murder in it, and, of course, +a murderer. Lightning—sign of Heaven's wrath—reveals that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +murderer's face, after the deed, is as pale as death. A third tale is +called "Who Will Win? or, American Adventure." There is fighting in it, +with negroes, hairbreadth escapes, and such things, in breathless +succession. A fourth and last tale is called "Masked." These boyish +efforts are only mentioned here to show in what direction the lad's +thoughts were running. Considered as a lad's productions, they require +no comment. At the outset, Jefferies proposed fiction to himself as the +most desirable form of literature, and the most likely form with which +to court success. Almost to the end he continued to keep this ambition +before himself. The list of his serious attempts at fiction is +respectable as regards number. It includes the following:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"The Scarlet Shawl," one vol., 1874.<br /> +"Restless Human Hearts," three vols., 1875.<br /> +"World's End," three vols., 1877.<br /> +"Green Fern Farm," three vols., 1880.<br /> +"The Dewy Morn," two vols., 1884.<br /> +"Amaryllis at the Fair," one vol., 1887.<br /></p> +</blockquote> + +<p>To these may be added—but they must be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> treated separately—"Wood +Magic," a fable, 1881, and "Bevis," three vols., 1882. Perhaps "After +London" may also be accounted a work of fiction.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"The Scarlet Shawl" was published in July, 1874, in one volume. As the +work is stated on the title-page to have advanced to a second edition, +one of two things is certain—namely, either the book appealed to a +large number of readers, or the editions were very small indeed. I +incline, myself, to the latter opinion.</p> + +<p>Great as is the admiration of Jefferies' readers for his best and +noblest work, it must be frankly confessed that, regarded as a +story-teller, he is not successful. Why this is so we will presently +inquire. As regards this, his earliest serious work of fiction, there is +one remarkable fact, quite without precedent in the history of +literature—it is that the book affords not the slightest indication of +genius, insight, descriptive or dramatic power, or, indeed, of any +power, especially of that kind with which he was destined to make his +name.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> It is a book which any publisher's reader, after glancing at the +pages, would order to be returned instantly, without opinion given or +explanation offered; it is a book which a young man of such real +promise, with such a splendid career before him, ought somehow to have +been prevented from publishing. Two reviews of it are preserved in a +certain book of extracts—one from the <i>Athenæum</i>, and one from the +<i>Graphic</i>. The story was also made a peg by a writer in the <i>Globe</i> for +some unkind remarks about modern fiction generally. It is only mentioned +here because we would not be accused of suppressing facts, and because +there is no author who has not made similar false starts, mistakes, and +attempts in lines unsuited to his genius. It is not much blame to +Jefferies that his first novel was poor; it was his misfortune that no +one told him at the outset that a book of which the author has to pay +the expense of production is probably worthless. It is, perhaps, +wonderful that the author could possibly think it good. There are, one +imagines, limits even to an author's illusions as regards his own work. +But it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> not so wonderful that Jefferies should at this time, when he +was still quite young and ignorant of the world, write a worthless book, +as that he should at any time at all write a book which had not the +least touch of promise or of power.</p> + +<p>Consider, however. What is the reason why a young author so often shows +a complete inability to discover how bad his early work really is? It is +that he is wholly unable to understand—no young writer can +understand—the enormous difference between his powers of conception and +imagination—which are often enormous—and those of execution. If it +were worth while, I think it would be possible to extricate from the +crude pages of "The Scarlet Shawl" the real novel which the writer +actually had in his mind, and fondly thought to have transferred to the +printed page. That novel would, I dare say, have been sweet and +wholesome, pure and poetical. The thing which he submitted to the public +was a work in which all these qualities were conspicuously wanting. The +young poet reads his own verses, his mind full of splendid images,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +half-formed characters, clouds of bewildering colours, and imagines that +he has fixed these floating splendours in immortal verse. When he has +forgotten what was in his mind while he was writing that verse, he will +be able to understand how feeble are his rhymes, but not till then. I +offer this as some explanation of these early novels.</p> + +<p>Consider, again. He never was a novelist; he never could be one. To +begin with, he knew nothing of society, nothing of men and women, except +the people of a small country town. There are, truly, materials for +dramatic fiction in plenty upon a farm and in a village; but Jefferies +was not the man to perceive them and to use them. His strength lay +elsewhere, and as yet he had not found his strength.</p> + +<p>Another reason why he could never be a novelist was that he wholly +lacked the dramatic faculty. He could draw splendid landscapes, but he +could not connect them together by the thread of human interest. Nature +in his books is always first, and humanity always second. Two figures +are in the foreground, but one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> hardly cares to look at them in +contemplating the wonderful picture which surrounds them.</p> + +<p>Again, he did not understand, so to speak, stage management. When he had +got a lot of puppets in his hands, he could not make them act. And he +was too self-contained to be a novelist; he could never get rid of his +own personality. When he succeeds in making his reader realize a +character, it is when that character is either himself, as in "Bevis," +or a part of himself, as Farmer Iden in "Amaryllis." The story in his +earlier attempts is always imitative, awkward, and conventional; it is +never natural and never spontaneous. In his later books he lays aside +all but the mere pretence of a story. The individual pictures which he +presents are delightful and wonderful; they are like his short essays +and articles—they may be read with enormous pleasure—but the story, +what is the story? Where is it? There is none. There is only the promise +of a story not worked out—left, not half untold, but hardly begun, as +in "After London" and in "Amaryllis at the Fair." You may put down any +of his so-called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> novels at any time with no more regret than that this +scene or that picture was not longer. As the writer never took any +interest in his own characters—one understands that as clearly as if it +was proclaimed upon the house-tops—so none of his readers can be +expected to feel any interest. It is the old, old story. In any kind of +art—it matters not what—if you wish your readers to weep, you must +first be constrained to weep yourself. Many other reasons might be +produced for showing that Jefferies could never have been a successful +novelist; but these may suffice.</p> + +<p>Meantime, the wonder remains. How could the same hand write the coarse +and clumsy "Scarlet Shawl" which was shortly to give the world such +sweet and delicate work, so truthful, so artistic, so full of fine +feeling? How could that be possible? Indeed, one cannot altogether +explain it. Collectors of Jefferies' books—unless they are mere +collectors who want to have a complete set—will do well to omit the +early novels. They belong to that class of book which quickly becomes +scarce, but never becomes rare.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>There are limitations in the work of every man. With such a man as +Jefferies, the limitations were narrower than with most of those who +make a mark in the history of literature. He was to succeed in one +way—only in one way. Outside that way, failure, check, disappointment, +even derision, awaited him. In the "Eulogy of Richard Jefferies" one can +afford to confess these limitations. He is so richly endowed that one +can well afford to confess them. It no more detracts from his worth and +the quality of his work to own that he was no novelist than it would be +to confess that he was no sculptor.</p> + +<p>But the wonder of it! How <i>could</i> such a man write these works, being +already five or six and twenty years of age, without revealing himself? +It is as if one who was to become a great singer should make his first +attempt and break down without even revealing the fact that he had a +noble voice, as yet untrained. Or as if one destined to be a great +painter should send in a picture for exhibition in which there was no +drawing, or sense of colour, or grouping, or management of lights, or +any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> promise at all. The thing cannot be wholly explained. It is a +phenomenon in literature.</p> + +<p>It is best, I say, to acknowledge these limitations fully and frankly, +so that we may go on with nothing, so to speak, to conceal. Let us grant +all the objections to Jefferies as a story-teller that anyone may choose +to make. In the ordinary sense of the word, Jefferies was not a +novelist; in the artistic sense of the word, he was not a novelist. This +fully understood and conceded, we can afterwards consider his later +so-called novels as so many storehouses filled with priceless treasure.</p> + +<p>I have in my hands certain letters which Jefferies addressed to Messrs. +Tinsley Brothers on the subject of his MSS. They are curious, and rather +saddening to read. They begin in the year 1872 with proposals that the +firm should publish a work called "Only a Girl," "the leading idea of +which is the delineation of a girl entirely unconventional, entirely +unfettered by precedent, and in sentiment always true to herself." He +writes a first letter on the subject in May. In September he reopens the +subject.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The scenery is a description of that found in this county, with every +portion of which I have been familiar for many years. The characters are +drawn from life, though so far disguised as to render too easy +identification impossible. I have worked in many of the traditions of +Wilts, endeavouring, in fact, in a humble manner to do for that county +what Whyte Melville has done for Northampton and Miss Braddon for +Yorkshire."</p> + +<p>As nothing more is written on the subject of "Only a Girl," I suppose +she was suppressed altogether, or worked up into another book.</p> + +<p>In 1874 he attacks the same publishers with a new MS. This time it is +"The Scarlet Shawl." It will be easily understood, from what has gone +before, that he was asked to pay a sum of money in advance in order to +cover the risk—in this case, to pay beforehand the certain loss. He +objected to the amount proposed, and says with charming simplicity:</p> + +<p>"I mean to become a name sooner or later. I shall stick to the first +publisher who takes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> me up; and, unless I am very much mistaken, we +shall make money. To write a tale is to me as easy as to write a letter, +and I do not see why I should not issue two a year for the next twelve +or fifteen years. I can hardly see the possible loss from a novel."</p> + +<p>This is really wonderful. This young man knows so little about the +writing of novels as to suppose that, because it is easy for him to +write two "Scarlet Shawls" a year, there can be no possible loss in +them! You see that he had everything to learn. You may also observe that +from the beginning he has never faltered in his one ambition. He will +succeed; and he will succeed in literature.</p> + +<p>Terms are finally agreed upon, and "The Scarlet Shawl" is produced. Some +time afterwards he writes for a cheque, and receives an account, whether +accompanied by a cheque or not does not appear. But he submits the +account to a friend, who assures him that it is correct. Thus satisfied, +he finishes a second story, this time in three volumes. It was called +"Restless Human Hearts."</p> + +<p>In the following year "Restless Human<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> Hearts," in three volumes, was +brought out by the same firm. In the book of extracts, from which I have +already drawn, there are four or five reviews preserved. They are all of +the same opinion, and it is not a flattering opinion. The <i>Graphic</i> +admitted that there was one scene drawn with considerable power. One +need not dwell longer upon this work. Jefferies, in fact, was describing +a society of which he knew absolutely nothing, and was drawing on his +imagination for a picture which he tendered as one of contemporary +manners. At this juncture—nay, at every point—of his literary career, +he wanted someone to stand at his elbow and make him tear up +everything—everything—that pretended to describe a society of which he +knew nothing. The hero appears to have been a wicked nobleman. Heavens! +what did this young provincial journalist know of wicked noblemen? But +he had read about them, when he was a boy. He had read the sensational +romances in which the nobleman was, at that time, always represented as +desperately wicked. In these later days the nobleman of the penny<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +novelette is generally pictured as virtuous. Why and how this change of +view has been brought about it is impossible in this place to inquire; +but Jefferies belonged to the generation of wicked dukes and vicious +earls.</p> + +<p>The terms upon which "Restless Human Hearts" was published do not appear +from the letters extant. Jefferies writes, however, a most sensible +letter on the subject. He refuses absolutely to pay any more for +publishing his own books. He says:</p> + +<p>"This is about the worst speculation into which I could possibly put the +money. Therefore I am resolved to spend no more upon the matter, whether +the novel gets published or not. The magazines pay well, and immediately +after publication the cheque is forwarded. It seems the height of +absurdity, after receiving a cheque for a magazine article, to go and +pay a sum of money just to get your tale in print. I was content to do +so the first time, because it is in accordance with the common rule of +all trades to pay your footing." The resemblance is not complete, let me +say, because the new author, on this theory, would not pay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> his footing +to other authors, but to a publisher, and, besides, such a proposal has +never been made to any author. "I might just as well," he concludes, +"put the cheque in the fire as print a tale at my own expense."</p> + +<p>Quite so. Most sensibly put. Young authors will do well to lay this +discovery to heart. They may be perfectly certain that a manuscript +which respectable firms refuse to publish at their own risk and expense +is not worth publishing at all, and they may just as well put their +bank-notes upon the fire as pay them to a publisher for producing their +works. Nay, much better, because they will thus save themselves an +infinite amount of disappointment and humiliation.</p> + +<p>Before "Restless Human Hearts" is well out of the binder's hands, he is +ready—this indefatigable spinner of cobwebs—with another story. It is +called "In Summer-Time." He is apparently oblivious of the brave words +quoted above, and is now ready to advance £20 towards the risk of the +new novel. Nothing came of the proposal, and "In Summer-Time" went to +join "Only a Girl."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the same year—this is really a most wonderful record of absolutely +wasted energy—he has an allegory written in Bunyanesque English called +"The New Pilgrim's Progress; or, A Christian's Painful Passage from the +Town of Middle Class to the Golden City." This, too, sinks into +oblivion, and is heard of no more.</p> + +<p>Undeterred by all this ill-success, Jefferies proceeds to write yet +another novel, called "World's End." He says that he has spent a whole +winter upon it.</p> + +<p>"The story centres round the great property at Birmingham, considered to +be worth four millions, which is without an owner. A year or two ago +there was a family council at that city of a hundred claimants from +America, Australia, and other places, but it is still in Chancery. This +is the core, or kernel, round which the plot develops itself. I think, +upon perusal, you would find it a striking book, and full of original +ideas."</p> + +<p>In consideration of the failure of "Restless Human Hearts," he offers +his publisher the whole of the first edition for nothing, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> seems +fair, and one hopes that his publisher recouped by this first edition +his previous losses. The reviewers were kinder to "World's End." The +<i>Queen</i>, the <i>Graphic</i>, and the <i>Spectator</i> spoke of it with measured +approbation, but no enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>He writes again, offering a fourth novel, called "The Dewy Morn;" but as +no more letters follow, it is probable that the work was refused. This +looks as if the success of "World's End" was limited. "The Dewy Morn," +in the later style, was published in 1884 by Messrs. Chapman and Hall.</p> + +<p>The appearance of "World's End" marks the conclusion of one period of +his life. Henceforth Jefferies abandons his ill-starred attempts to +paint manners which he never saw, a society to which he never belonged, +and the life of people concerning whom he knew nothing. He has at last +made the discovery that this kind of work is absolutely futile. Yet he +does not actually realize the fact until he has made many failures, and +wasted a great deal of time, and is nearly thirty years of age. +Henceforth his tales, if we are to call them tales, his papers, +sketches, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> finished pictures, will be wholly rural. He has written +"The Dewy Morn," and apparently the work has been refused; there was +little in his previous attempts to tempt a publisher any farther. He +will now write "Greene Ferne Farm," "Bevis," "After London," and +"Amaryllis at the Fair." They are not novels at all, though he chooses +to call them novels; they are a series of pictures, some of beauty and +finish incomparable, strung together by some sort of thread of human +interest which nobody cares to follow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>IN FULL CAREER.</h3> + + +<p>Never, certainly, did any man have a better chance of success in +literature than Jefferies about the year 1876. He had made himself, to +begin with, an authority on the most interesting of all subjects; he +knew more about farming—that is to say, farming in his own part of the +country—than any other man who could wield a pen; he had written papers +full of the most brilliant suggestions, as well as knowledge, as to the +future of agriculture and its possible developments; he had written +things which made people ask if there had truly arisen an agricultural +prophet in the land. And he was as yet only twenty-eight. Of all young +authors, he seems to have been the man most to be envied. Everything +that he had so long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> desired seemed now lying at his feet ready to be +picked up. To use the old parlance, the trumpet of fame was already +resounding in the heavens for him, and the crown of honour was already +being woven for his brows.</p> + +<p>Some men would have made of this splendid commencement a golden ladder +of fortune. They would have come to town—the first step, whether one is +to become a millionnaire or a Laureate; they would have joined clubs; +they would have gone continually in and out among their fellow-men, and +especially those of their own craft or mystery; they would have been +seen as much as possible in society; they would have stood up to speak +on platforms; they would have sought to be mentioned in the papers; they +would have courted popularity in the ways very well known to all, and +commonly practised without concealment. Such a man as Jefferies might +have made himself, without much trouble, a great power in London.</p> + +<p>Well, Jefferies did not become a power in London at all. He could not; +everything was against him, except the main fact that the way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> was open +to him. First, the air of the town choked and suffocated him; he panted +for the breath of the fields. Next, he had no knowledge or experience of +men; he never belonged to society at all, not even to the quiet society +of a London suburb; he had none of the conversation which belongs to +clubs and to club life; he never associated with literary men or London +journalists; he knew nobody. Thirdly, there was the reserve which clung +round him like a cloak which cannot be removed. He did not want to know +anybody; he was not only reserved, but he was self-contained. Therefore, +the success which he achieved did not mean to him what it should have +meant had he been a man of the world. On the other hand, it must be +conceded that no mere man of the world could write the things which +Jefferies subsequently wrote. Let us, therefore, content ourselves with +the reflection that his success proved in the end to be of a far higher +kind than a mere worldly success. This knowledge, if such things follow +beyond the grave, should be enough to make him happy.</p> + +<p>He was himself contented—he was even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> happy—and desired nothing more +than to go on finding a ready market for his wares, a sufficient income +for the daily wants of his household, and that praise which means to +authors far more than it means to any other class of men. Nobody praises +the physician or the barrister: they go on their own way quite careless +of the world's praise. But an author wants it; I think that all authors +need praise. To work day after day, year after year, without +recognition, thanks, or appreciation, must in the end become destructive +to the highest genius. Praise makes a man write better. Praise gives him +that happy self-confidence which permits the flow, and helps the +expression, of his thoughts. Praise gives him audacity, a most useful +quality for an author. Jefferies could never have written his best +things but for the praise which he received. The chief reason, I verily +believe, why his work went on improving was that every year that he +lived after the appearance of the "Gamekeeper at Home" he received an +ever increasing share of praise, appreciation and encouragement.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was somewhere about the year 1876 that I myself first fell upon some +of his work. I remember the delight with which I drank, as a bright and +refreshing draught from a clear spring-head, the story of the country +life as set forth by him, this writer, the like of whom I had never +before read. Why, we must have been blind all our lives; here were the +most wonderful things possible going on under our very noses, but we saw +them not. Nay, after reading all the books and all the papers—every +one—that Jefferies wrote between the years 1876 and 1887, after +learning from him all that he had to teach, I cannot yet see these +things. I see a hedge; I see wild rose, honeysuckle, black +briony—<i>herbe aux femmes battues</i>, the French poetically call +it—blackberry, hawthorn, and elder. I see on the banks sweet +wildflowers whose names I learn from year to year, and straightway +forget because they grow not in the streets. I know very well, because +Jefferies has told me so much, what I should be able to see in the hedge +and on the bank besides these simple things; but yet I cannot see them, +for all his teaching. Mine—alas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>!—are eyes which have looked into shop +windows and across crowded streets for half a century, save for certain +intervals every year; they are also eyes which need glasses; they are +slow to see things unexpected, ignorant of what should be expected; they +are helpless eyes when they are turned from men and women to flowers, +ferns, weeds, and grasses; they are, in fact, like unto the eyes of +those men with whom I mostly consort. None of us—poor street-struck +creatures!—can see the things we ought to see.</p> + +<p>It happened unto me—by grace and special favour, I may call it—that in +the course of my earthly pilgrimage I had for a great many years certain +business transactions at regular short intervals with one who knew +Jefferies well, because he married his only sister. The habit began, as +soon as I learned that fact, of talking about Richard Jefferies as soon +as our business was completed. Henceforward, therefore, week by week, I +followed the fortunes of this man, and read not only his books and his +papers, but learned his personal history, and heard what he was doing, +and watched him curiously, unknown and unsuspected by himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> To be +sure, his own people knew little, except in general terms, about his +intentions or projects. It was not in Jefferies' nature to consult them. +Another thing I knew not, because, with characteristic pride and +reserve, he did not suffer even his brother-in-law or his sister to know +it—viz., the terrible poverty of his later days.</p> + +<p>I have never looked upon the face of Richard Jefferies. This, now that +it is too late, is to me a deep and abiding sorrow. I always hoped some +day to see him—there seemed so much time ahead—and to tell him, face +to face, what one <i>ought</i> to tell such a man—it is a plain duty to tell +this truth to such a man—how greatly I admired and valued his work, +with what joy I received it, with what eagerness I expected it, what +splendid qualities I found in it, what instruction and elevation of soul +I derived from it. I have never even seen this man. I was not a friend +of his—I was not even a casual acquaintance—and yet I am writing his +life. Perhaps, in this strange way, by reading all that he wrote, by +connecting his work continually with what I learned of his life and +habits, and by learning, day by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> day, all the things which happened to +him, I may have learned to know him more intimately even than some of +those who rejoiced in being called his friends.</p> + +<p>As for his personal habits, Jefferies was extremely simple and regular, +even methodical. He breakfasted always at eight o'clock, often on +nothing but dry toast and tea. After breakfast he went to his study, +where he remained writing until half-past eleven. At that hour he always +went out, whatever the weather and in all seasons, and walked until one +o'clock. This morning walk was an absolute necessity for him. At one +o'clock he returned and took an early dinner, which was his only +substantial meal. His tastes were simple. He liked to have a plain roast +or boiled joint, with abundance of vegetables, of which he was very +fond, especially asparagus, sea-kale, and mushrooms. He would have +preferred ale, but he found that light claret or burgundy suited him +better, and therefore he drank daily a little of one or the other.</p> + +<p>Dinner over, he read his daily paper, and slept for an hour by the +fireside. Perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> this after-dinner sleep may be taken as a sign of +physical weakness. A young man of thirty ought not to want an hour's +sleep in the middle of the day. At three o'clock he awoke, and went for +another walk, coming home at half-past four. He thus walked for three +hours every day, which, for a quick walker, gives a distance of twelve +miles—a very good allowance of fresh air. Men of all kinds, who have to +keep the brain in constant activity, have found that the active exercise +of walking is more valuable than any other way of recreation in +promoting a healthy activity of the brain. To talk with children is a +rest; to visit picture-galleries changes the current of thought; to play +lawn tennis diverts the brain; but to walk both rests the brain and +stimulates it. Jefferies acquired the habit of noting down in his walks, +and storing away, those thousands of little things which make his +writings the despair of people who think themselves minute observers. He +took tea at five, and then worked again in his study till half-past +eight, when he commonly finished work for the day. In other words, he +gave up five hours of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> solid day to work. It is, I think, impossible +for a man to carry on literary work of any but the humblest kind for +more than five hours a day; three hours remained for exercise, and the +rest for food, rest, and reading. He took a little supper at nine, of +cold meat and bread, with a glass of claret, and then read or conversed +until eleven, when he went to bed. He took tobacco very rarely.</p> + +<p>He had not a large library, because the works which he most wished to +procure were generally beyond his means. For instance, he was always +desirous, but never able, to purchase Sowerby's "English Wild-Flowers." +His favourite novelists were Scott and Charles Reade. The conjunction of +these two names gives me singular pleasure, as to one who admires the +great qualities of Reade. He also liked the works of Ouida and Miss +Braddon. He never cared greatly for Charles Dickens. I think the reason +why Dickens did not touch him was that the kind of lower middle-class +life which Dickens knew so well, and loved to portray, belonged +exclusively to the town, which Jefferies did not know, and not to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +country, which he did. He was never tired of Goethe's "Faust," which was +always new to him. He loved old ballads, and among the poets, Dryden's +works were his favourite reading. In one thing he was imperious: the +house must be kept quiet—absolutely quiet—while he was at work. Any +household operations that made the least noise had to be postponed till +he went out for his walk.</p> + +<p>I have before me a great number of note-books filled with observations, +remarks, ideas, hints, and suggestions of all kinds by him. He carried +them about during his walks, and while he was always watching the +infinite wealth and variety of Nature, the multitudinous forms of life, +he was always noting down what he saw. To read these note-books is like +reading an unclassified index to the works of Nature. And since they +throw so much light upon his methods, and prove—if that wanted any +proof—how careful he was to set down nothing that had not been noted +and proved by himself, I have copied some few pages, which are here +reproduced. Observe that these extracts are taken almost at random<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> from +two or three note-books. The writing is cramped, and in parts very +difficult to make out.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<i>Oct. 16, 1878.</i>—Wasp and very large blue-fly struggling, +wrestling on leaf. In a few seconds wasp got the mastery, brought +his tail round, and stung twice or thrice; then bit off the fly's +proboscis, then the legs, then bit behind the head, then snipped +off the wings, then fell off leaf, but flew with burden to the +next, rolled the fly round, and literally devoured its intestines. +Dropped off the leaf in its eager haste, got on third leaf, and +continued till nothing was left but a small part of the body—the +head had been snipped off before. This was one of those large black +flies—a little blue underneath—not like meat flies, but bigger +and squarer, that go to the ivy. Ivy in bloom close by, where, +doubtless, the robber found his prey and seized it.</p> + +<p>"While the other leaves fall, the thick foliage of the fir supports +the leaves that have been wafted to it, so that the fir's branches +are thickly sprinkled with other leaves."</p> + +<p>"<i>Surrey, Oct. 27.</i>—Red-wings numerous, and good many fieldfares.</p> + +<p>"Ivy, brown reddish leaves, and pale-green ribs."</p> + +<p>"<i>Oct. 29.</i>—Saw hawk perched on telegraph line out of +railway-carriage window. Train passed by within ten yards; hawk did +not move.</p> + +<p>"Street mist, London, not fog, but on clear day comes up about +two-thirds the height of the houses."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nov. 3.</i>—The horse-chestnut buds at end of boughs; tree quite +bare of leaves; all sticky, colour of deep varnish, strongly +adhesive. These showed on this tree very fully.</p> + +<p>"Golden-crested wren, pair together Nov. 3; 'cheep-cheep' as they +slipped about maple bush, and along and up oak bough; motions like +the tree-climber up a bough; the crest triangular, point towards +beak, spot of yellow on wing.</p> + +<p>"Still day; the earth holds its breath."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Nov. 11.</i>—Gold-crested wren and tom-tit on furze clinging to the +very spikes, and apparently busy on the tiny green buds now showing +thickly on the prickles.</p> + +<p>"The contemplation of the star, the sun, the tree raises the soul +into a trance of inner sight of nature."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nov. 17.</i>—Sycamore leaves—some few still on—spotted with +intensely black spots an inch across. Willow buds showing."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nov. 23.</i>—Oaks most beautiful in sun—elms nearly leafless, also +beech and willow—but oaks still in full leaf, some light-brown, +still trace of green, some brown, some buff, and tawny almost, save +in background, toned by shadow, a trace of red. The elms hid them +in summer; now the oaks stand out the most prominent objects +everywhere, and are seen to be three times as numerous as +expected."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nov. 25.</i>—Thrushes singing again; a mild day after week or two +cold."</p> + +<p>"<i>Dec. 23.</i>—Red-wings came within a yard, Velt (?) came within +ten, wood-pigeon the same. Weasel hunting hedge under snow; +under-ground in ivy as busy as possible; good time for them."</p> + +<p>"<i>Jan. 6.</i>—Very sharp frost, calm, some sun in morning, dull at +noon."</p> + +<p>"<i>Jan. 7.</i>—Frost, wind, dull."</p> + +<p>"<i>Jan. 8.</i>—Frost light, strong N.E. wind."</p> + +<p>"<i>Jan. 9.</i>—Frost light, some little snow, wind N.E., light."</p> + +<p>"<i>Jan. 10.</i>—Very fine, sunny, N.E. wind, sharp frosty morning.</p> + +<p>"Orange moss on old tiles on cattle-sheds and barns a beautiful +colour; a picture."</p> + +<p>"<i>Feb. 7.</i>—Larks soaring and singing the first time; one to an +immense height; rain in morning, afternoon mild but a strong wind +from west; catkins on hazel, and buds on some hazel-bushes; +missel-thrush singing in copse; spring seems to have burst on us +all at once; chaffinches pairing, or trying to; fighting."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Feb. 8.</i>—Numerous larks soaring; copse quite musical; now the +dull clouds of six weeks have cleared away, we see the sun has got +up quite high in the sky at noon."</p> + +<p>"<i>Feb. 12.</i>—Rooks, five, wading into flood in meadow, almost up to +their breasts; lark soaring and singing at half-past five, evening; +light declining; partridges have paired.</p> + +<p>"No blue geranium in Surrey that I have seen."</p> + +<p>"<i>Feb. 17.</i>—Rooks busy at nests, jackdaws at steeple; sliding down +with wings extended, 4.50, to gardens below at great speed."</p> + +<p>"<i>Feb. 20.</i>—Ploughs at work again; have not seen them for three +months almost."</p> + +<p>"<i>Feb. 21.</i>—Snow three or four inches; broom bent down; the green +stalks that stand up bent right down; afterwards bright sunshine +for some hours, and then clouded again."</p> + +<p>"<i>Feb. 22.</i>—Berries on wild ivy on birch-tree, round and +fully-formed and plentiful; berries not formed on garden ivy."</p> + +<p>"<i>Feb. 27.</i>—Snow on ground since morning of 21st; four wild ducks +going over to east; first seen here for two years; larks fighting +and singing over snow; thawing; snow disappeared during day; tomtit +at birch-tree buds; pigeons still in large flocks."</p> + +<p>"<i>March 7.</i>—Splendid day; warm sun, scarcely any wind; +wood-pigeons calling in copse here."</p> + +<p>"<i>April 16.</i>—Elms beginning to get green with leaf-buds; apple +leaf-buds opening green."</p> + +<p>"<i>May 12.</i>—A real May-day at last; warm, west wind, sunshine; +birds singing as if hearts would burst; four or five blackbirds all +in hearing at once; butterfly, small white, tipped with yellowish +red; song of thrush more varied even than nightingale; if rare, +people would go miles to hear it, never the same in same bird, and +every bird different; fearless, too; <i>operatic</i> singer.</p> + +<p>"More stitchwort; now common; it looks like ten petals,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> but is +really five; the top of the petal divided, which gives the +appearance; a delicate, beautiful white; leaves in pairs, pointed.</p> + +<p>"Humble-bees do suck cowslips."</p> + +<p>"<i>May 14.</i>—Lark singing beautifully in the still dark and clouded +sky at a quarter to three o'clock in the morning; about twenty +minutes afterwards the first thrush; thought I heard distant +cuckoo—not sure; and ten minutes after that the copse by garden +perfectly ringing with the music. A beautiful May morning; +thoroughly English morning: southerly wind, warm light breeze, +smart showers of warm rain, and intervals of brilliant sunshine; +the leaves in copse beautiful delicate green, refreshed, cleaned, +and a still more lovely green from the shower; behind them the blue +sky, and above the bright sun; white detached clouds sailing past. +That is the morning; afternoon more cloudy.</p> + +<p>"More swifts later in evening. The first was flying low down +against wind; seemed to progress from tip to tip of wing, +alternately throwing himself along, now one tip downwards, now the +other, like hand-over-hand swimming. Furze-chat, first in furze +opposite, perched on high branch of furze above the golden blossom +thick on that branch; a way of shaking wings while perched; +'chat-chat' low; head and part of neck black, white ring or band +below, brownish general colour. Nightingale singing on +elm-branch—a large, thick branch, projecting over the green by +roadside—perched some twenty-five feet high. Yellow-hammer noticed +a day or two ago perched on branch lengthwise, not across. Oaks: +more oaks out. Ash: thought I saw one with the large black buds +enlarged and lengthened, but not yet burst."</p> + +<p>"<i>May 18.</i>—The white-throat feeds on the brink of the ditch, +perching on fallen sticks or small bushes; there is then no +appearance of a crest; afterwards he flies up to the topmost twig +of the bush, or on a sapling tree, and immedi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>ately he begins to +sing, and the feathers on the top of his head are all ruffled up, +as if brushed the wrong way."</p> + +<p>"<i>May 20.</i>—Coo of dove in copse first."</p> + +<p>"<i>May 21.</i>—The flies teased in the lane to-day—the first time."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Such a man as Jefferies, with his necessities of fresh air and solitude, +should have been adopted and tenderly nursed by some rich man; or he +should have been piloted by some agent who would have transacted all his +business for him, placed his articles in the most advantageous way, +procured him the best price possible for his books, and relieved him +from the trouble of haggling and bargaining—a necessary business to one +who lives by his pen, but to one of his disposition an intolerable +trouble. It would, again, one thinks, have proved a profitable +speculation if some publisher had given him a small solid income in +return for having all his work. Consider: for the truly beautiful papers +on the country life which Jefferies wrote, there were the magazines in +which they might first appear, both American and English, and there was +the volume form afterwards. Would four hundred pounds a year—to +Jefferies it would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> seemed affluence—have been too much to pay for +such a man? I think that from a commercial point of view, even including +the year when he was too ill to do any work, it might have paid so to +run Jefferies. As it was, he had no one to advise him. He drifted +helplessly from publisher to publisher. His name stood high, and rose +steadily higher, yet he made no more money by his books. The value of +his work rose no higher—it even fell lower. This curious fact—that +increase of fame should not bring increase of money—Jefferies did not +and could not understand. It constantly irritated and annoyed him. He +thought that he was being defrauded out of his just dues. On this point +I will, however, speak again immediately.</p> + +<p>The young couple remained at Swindon until February, 1877, when +Jefferies thought himself justified in giving up his post on the <i>North +Wilts Herald</i>, and in removing nearer London. But it must not be too +near London. He must only be near in the sense of ready access by train. +Therefore he took a house at Surbiton—it was at No. 2, Woodside. At +this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> semi-rural place one is near to the river, the fields, and the +woods. It is not altogether a desertion of the country. Jefferies +<i>could</i> not leave the country altogether. It was necessary for him to +breathe the fresh air of the turf and the fragrance of the newly-turned +clods. He could not live, much less work, unless he did this. As for his +work, that was daily suggested and stimulated by this continual +communing with Nature. Poverty might prick him—it might make him uneasy +for the moment—it never made him unhappy—but unless his brain was full +to overflowing, he could not work. Out of the abundance of his heart his +mouth spoke. It seems, indeed, futile to regret that such a man as this +did not make a more practical advantage to himself out of his success. +He could not. If a man cannot, he cannot. Just as in scientific +observation there is a personal equation, so in the conduct of life +there is a personal limitation. Some unknown force holds back a man when +he has reached a certain point. The life of every man, rightly studied, +shows his personal limitation. But without the whole life of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> man +spread out before us, it is not easy to understand where this personal +limitation begins. There is no more to be said when this is once +understood. It is a matter of personal limitation. Those kindly people +who continually occupy themselves with the concerns of their neighbours, +constantly go wrong because they do not understand the personal +limitation. What we call fate is often another word for limitation. Why +do I not write better English, and why have I not a nobler style, and +why cannot I become the greatest writer who ever lived? Because I cannot +rise above a certain level. If I am a wise man, I find out that level; I +reach it, and am content therewith. Why did not Jefferies make himself +rich with the opportunities he had? Because he could not. Because to +grasp an opportunity and to turn it to his own material interest was a +thing beyond his personal limitation. To seize Time by the forelock, +though he go ever so slowly, is to some men impossible. For while they +look on and hesitate, another steps in before them; or the world is +looking on and observes the situation, ready to sneer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> and snigger, and +there seems a kind of meanness in the act—very likely there <i>is</i> +meanness; or to do so one must trample on one's neighbours; or one must +desert one's habits of life, throw over all that one loves, and make a +change of which the least that can be said is that it is certain to make +one uncomfortable for the remainder of life.</p> + +<p>Therefore, Jefferies suffered that forelock to be plucked by another, +and continued to wander about the fields. He had now indeed attained the +object of his ambition. He was not only a recognised and successful +writer, but his work was also looked for and loved. Happy that author +who knows that his work is expected before it is ready, and is loved +when it appears. Henceforth he made no more mistakes. He understood by +this time his personal limitation. His work, as well as his days, must +be concerning the fields and the wild life. Year after year that work +becomes more beautiful until the end. As for an income, it was mainly +secured by his contributions to the magazines and journals. He wrote, +during the last ten years of his life, for nearly all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> magazines, +but especially for <i>Longman's</i>. He also contributed to the <i>Standard</i>, +the <i>St. James's</i>, the <i>Pall Mall</i>, the <i>Graphic</i>, the <i>World</i>, and +other papers. Most of these articles he gathered together as soon as +there were enough of them, and published them in a volume. In this way +he made a little more out of them. He even contrived to save a little +money. But his income was never very great.</p> + +<p>The first five of the works on the country life were published by +Messrs. Smith and Elder. These were the "Gamekeeper at Home," "Wild Life +in a Southern County," "The Amateur Poacher," "Greene Ferne Farm," and +"Round About a Great Estate." Then he did either a very foolish or a +very unfortunate thing. He left Messrs. Smith and Elder, and for the +rest of his life he went about continually changing his publisher, +always in the hope of getting a better price for his volumes, and always +chafing at the smallness of the pecuniary result. An author should never +change his publisher, unless he is compelled to do so by the misfortune +of starting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> with a shark, a thing which has happened unto many. The +very fact of having all his works in the same hands greatly assists +their sale. A reader who is delighted, for instance, with "Red Deer," +and would wish to get other books by the same author, finds the name of +Longmans on the back, but no list of those books published by Smith and +Elder, Chatto and Windus, Cassell and Co., and Sampson Low and Co. I +have myself found it very difficult to get a complete set of Jefferies' +books. At the London Library, even, they do not possess a complete set. +Then that reader lays down his book, and presently forgets his purpose. +I suppose that there are very few, even of Jefferies' greatest admirers, +who actually possess all his works.</p> + +<p>He was, as I have already said, bitter against publishers for the small +sums they offered him. He made the not uncommon mistake of supposing +that, because the reviews spoke of his works in terms so laudatory, +which, indeed, no reviewers could refrain from doing, the public were +eagerly buying them. I have, myself, had perhaps an exceptional +experience<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> of authors, their grumblings, and their grievances, and I +know that this confusion of thought—this unwarranted conclusion—is +very widespread. An author, that is to say, reads a highly-complimentary +review of his work, and looks for an immense and immediate demand in +consequence for that work. Well, every good review helps a book, +undoubtedly, but to a much smaller extent, from the pecuniary point of +view, than is generally believed. The demand for a book is created in +quite other ways; partly by the author's previous works, which, little +by little, or, if he is lucky, at a single bound, create a <i>clientèle</i> +of those who like his style; partly by the talk of people who tell each +other what they have read, and recommend this or that book. Then, since +most books are read from the circulating library, and that kind of +personal recommendation, especially with a new writer, takes time, the +libraries are able to get along with a comparatively small number of +copies; in fact, an author may have a very considerable name, and yet +make, even with the honourable houses, quite a small sum of money by any +work.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> Again, this is not, one sorrowfully owns, a country which buys +books. My compatriots will buy everything and anything, except books. +They will lavish their money in every conceivable manner, except +one—they never commit extravagances in buying books. For the greater +part, the three-guinea subscription to the library is the whole of the +family expenditure for the greatest, the only unfailing, delight that +life has to offer them.</p> + +<p>Again, in the case of Richard Jefferies, the demand for his books was +confined to a comparatively small number of readers. I do not suppose +that his work will ever be widely popular, and yet I am certain that his +reputation will grow and increase. Of all modern writers, I know of none +of whom one can predict with such absolute certainty that he will live. +He will surely live. He draws, as no other writer has done, the actual +life of rural England under Queen Victoria. For the very fidelity of +these pictures alone he must live. No other writers, except Jefferies +and Thomas Hardy, have been able to depict this life. And, what is even +more, as the hills, and fields, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> woods, and streams are ever with +us, whether we are savages or civilized beings, whatever our manners, +dress, fashions, laws or customs, the man who speaks with truth of these +speaks for all time and for all mankind.</p> + +<p>Yet he is not, and will never be, widely popular. There are many +persons, presumably persons of culture, who cannot read Jefferies. A +country parson—poor man!—observed to me in Swindon itself, that he +hoped the biography of Richard Jefferies would not prove so dry as the +works of Richard Jefferies. These, he said, with the cheerful dogmatism +of his kind, were as dry as a stick, and impossible to read. Now, this +good man was probably in some sort a scholar. He lives in the Jefferies +county. All round him are the hills and downs described in these works. +To us those hills and downs are now filled with life, beauty, and all +kinds of delightful things, entirely through those very books. The good +vicar finds them so dry that he cannot read them. Others there are who +complain that Jefferies is always "cataloguing." One understands what is +meant. To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> some of us the picture is always being improved by the +addition of another blade of grass, another dead leaf, or the ear of a +hare visible among the turnip-tops; others are fatigued by these little +details. Jefferies is too full for them.</p> + +<p>Another thing against him in the minds of the frivolous is that you +cannot skip in reading Jefferies. To take up a volume is to read it +right through from beginning to end. You can no more skip Jefferies than +you can skip Emerson. Now, most readers like to rush a volume. You +cannot rush Jefferies. I defy the most rapid reader to rush Jefferies. +You might as well try to rush the Proof of the Binomial Theorem. Others +there are who like to be made to laugh or to cry. This man never laughs. +You may, perhaps, put down the book and smile at the incongruities of +the rustic talk, but you do not laugh. Hardy's rustics will make you +laugh a whole summer's day through, but Jefferies' rustics never. He is +always in earnest. Hardy is a humorist; Jefferies is not. And, worst sin +of all in him who courts popularity, he makes his readers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> think. Men +who live alone, who walk about alone, who commune with Nature all day +long, do not laugh, and do not make others laugh.</p> + +<p>For these reasons, then, among others, Jefferies was never popular, +despite the laudatory reviews and the readiness with which editors +welcomed his work.</p> + +<p>As to the remuneration which he received. With these considerations in +our minds, let us next remember that publishing is a business +undertaken, not for love of literature or of authors, but for profit, +for a livelihood, for making money. It is, therefore, conducted upon +"business principles." Now, in business of every kind, the first rule is +that the business man must "make a profit on every transaction." You +must pay your publisher, if you engage one, just as you must pay your +solicitor. This is fair, just, and honest. You must pay him for his time +and his trouble. He must be paid either by the author, or out of the +books which he sells. The only question, therefore, not including +certain awkward points into which we need not here enter—I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> speaking +only of honourable houses—is what proportion of a book's returns, or +what sum, should be paid to a publisher for his trouble. Now, I have +learned enough of the sale of Jefferies' books, and of the sums which he +received for them, to be satisfied that his publishers' services were by +no means exorbitantly paid by the sale of his books, and that no more, +from a business point of view, could have been given. That is to say, if +more had been given, it would have been as a free gift, or act of +charity, which this author would have spurned. All these things, +however, he could not understand, perhaps because they were never +explained to him.</p> + +<p>I have been told by one who knew Jefferies from boyhood that he was +indolent, and would never have worked had it not been for necessity. His +writings do not convey to me the idea of an indolent man. On the +contrary, they are those of a man of an intellect so active that he must +have been compelled to work. Yet one can understand that he could not +work, after making the grand discovery of what his work should be, until +his brain was overflowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> with the subject. Generally it was a single +and a simple subject round which he wove his tapestry. The subject once +conceived, he could do nothing until his brain was charged and possessed +with it.</p> + +<p>His life has henceforth no incidents to record, except those of work and +illness. He worked, he walked, he wrote, he walked again, he read, he +watched and observed, he thought. That is his life, until illness fell +upon him. Always a silent man, always a man of few friends, always a man +of simple habits, in all weathers delighting to be out of doors, +refusing to put on a great-coat or to carry an umbrella.</p> + +<p>He changed his residence several times. From Surbiton, where he stayed +for five years, he went to West Brighton, to a house called "Savernake." +Did he himself christen it after the forest which he knew so well? +Thence, in 1884, he went to Eltham, where he took a house in the +Victoria Road. Then, I suppose, an irresistible yearning for some place +far from men seized him, for he moved again, and went to live at a +cottage two miles and a half from Crowborough Station, near Crowborough +Hill,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> the highest spot in Sussex. Again he stayed for a few weeks on +the Quantock Hills, Somerset. Lastly, he went to live at a house called +Sea View, at Goring, where he died.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE LONGMAN LETTERS.</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Charles Longman, who for the last eight years of Jefferies' life was +one of his most constant friends, has lent me a packet of letters +written to him by Jefferies between the years 1878 and 1886. They form +by themselves, like the previous letters to Mrs. Harrild, a kind of +diary of his life during that period.</p> + +<p>"The papers on the 'Gamekeeper at Home,' in the <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>," +Mr. Longman writes, "were the first things of Jefferies' that attracted +me. I thought at once that they seemed to me written by a man who could +see more of the secrets of nature than anyone whose work I had ever come +across. I wrote to Mr. George Smith, asking him to forward a letter to +the writer of the papers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> whose name I did not know. In the letter I +proposed that he should write a complete work on Shooting, to be what +Hawker's work was forty years ago. He never did it; but this was the +beginning of my friendship with this most interesting man."</p> + +<p>"He never did it." Jefferies could never do anything which did not +spring from his own brain. He has written admirable pages on kindred +subjects—he was the very man to write such a book—and it would +undoubtedly have proved a most popular book. Why, there is not a +gentleman's house in the three kingdoms or the colonies which would not +desire to have a copy of such a work. But the work was proposed to him +by another man, therefore Jefferies could not see his way to put his +heart in it. However, he did think of it; he even went so far as to draw +up a scheme of the work. He would have chapters on the gun, the +gun-room, the art of shooting, etiquette of the field, the dog, the +various kinds of game, and so forth. Presently, we hear that the book is +actually begun; that there are difficulties about getting information<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +as to various points; that he has been occupied with the various kinds +of game, and so on. He also mentions with complacency pardonable and +even praiseworthy that he has received a proposal to write two books +from a leading Edinburgh firm. Nothing apparently came of this proposal. +It is, however, noticeable, and to young writers it should be very +encouraging, that no sooner did his first really good book appear—the +"Gamekeeper at Home"—than his genius was at once recognised, and the +best publishers began inviting him to write for them. He then offers a +novel—always a novel!—which Messrs. Longmans' reader does not advise +the house to accept. What was that novel? Perhaps one of those which had +already been refused by one publisher, if not by more. Pending the +writing and completion of the book on Shooting, he submits another +proposal. He says:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"To carry out this volume I must partly lay aside some MSS. which I +had previously begun, and before writing it I should like to hear +your opinion on the subject. The provisional title<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> of one for +which I have accumulated materials and ideas for some time is 'The +Proletariate: the Power of the Future.' It has been my lot to see a +great deal of the Labour Question, not only agricultural, but also +urban." Really? Urban? Where, how, and in what period of his life +did he get his urban experience? Was it on the streets of Swindon, +that great centre of life and thought? "And it seems to me that all +politics are slowly resolving into this one great point." He means +that the condition of the people all over the world is rapidly +becoming the dominant question. He was right; but he spoke ten +years too soon. "Religion, society, institutions of every kind are +affected. No doubt you saw the extraordinary account in the <i>Times</i> +recently of the burial of a Socialist in Germany, and the marked +progress of their doctrines. There are several books on wages, +capital and labour, etc., but it seems to me that most thinkers and +writers treat the subject on grounds too narrow. Of wages I propose +to say very little. My idea is to point out how proletarian +influences are at work everywhere under the sur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>face. The Church, +the Chapel, the Houses of Parliament, legislation, society, at +home; abroad, the same. Note the Nihilism in Russia, and the +railway insurrection in the United States lately. Everywhere the +masses are heaving and fermenting. In our own rural districts I +clearly foresee changes in the future through the education now +beginning of the cottagers. Personally, I have little feeling, and +my book will be absolutely free of party politics. I look at it +much as I should dissect and analyze a given period in the history +of ancient Rome."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Nothing came of this proposal, and, indeed, one feels that Jefferies was +not the man to write such a book. Of the people in other countries he +knew nothing but what he read in the papers; of the people at home he +knew only the agricultural portion; and though he had read a great many +books he was in no sense an historical student. But he was still young, +and it still seemed to him, as to all young writers, that he could write +a book upon any subject which it interested him to read about in the +papers or elsewhere.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>The same letter contains another idea. It is that of a book on "The +History of the English Squire." This seems a very good subject for a +competent person. Perhaps someone will take up the idea and write the +history of the English squire before he becomes extinct. One would like +to see how, first, the yeoman added acre to acre, ousting his neighbour, +and so became the squire; then how, gradually, all over the country, +owing to the action of forces too strong for him, the yeoman began to +disappear; how the squire was able to add more acres, buying out yeoman +after yeoman, always on the look-out to buy more land, and therefore +always becoming more important; and how, presently, he got a title, +which he now "enjoys," claiming superiority of blood and descent, while +the ex-yeoman, once his equal, is now his tenant, and humbly doffs his +hat. Jefferies, one feels convinced, ought to have written a most +interesting and instructive volume upon this subject, if—which he has +never shown—he had the patience for historical research and +investigation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>He presently forwards a specimen chapter for the Shooting-Book. That was +in September, 1878. In October he formally accepted the business +arrangements offered by the firm, undertook the work, and signed the +agreement. There follows here a gap of three years. When the letters are +resumed, Jefferies is living at West Brighton (December, 1882). He +offers to contribute to the new <i>Longman's Magazine</i>, and proposes an +article consisting of three short sketches. (1) The Acorn-gatherer; (2) +The Legend of a Gateway; and (3) A Roman Brook. This article, in fact, +appeared under the title of "Bits of Oak Bark."</p> + +<p>He presently speaks of his long illness, which has kept him out of the +world. "I see," he says, "that you have got out the Shooting-Book under +the title of 'The Dead Shot.'" This, however, was a reprint of an old +book. Mr. Longman's idea of a complete manual for shooting has since +been carried out in "The Badminton Library." "No wonder; I could not +expect anyone to be more patient than you were. But even now I hope some +day to send in a manuscript."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<p>He is also ready to write another book. This time it is to be a series +of "short story-sketches of life and character, incident and nature. I +want to express the deeper feelings with which observation of +life-histories has filled me, and I assure you I have as large a +collection of these facts and incidents—the natural history of the +heart—as I have ever written about birds and trees." In short, he +proposes to write a series which shall take the place in the magazine of +the novel, and says that he has enough material to carry him along until +the year 1890, or longer. "Why not let other contributors, besides the +novelist, occasionally give you a series? For myself, I have given up +English novels and taken to the French, which are at least bright, +short, dramatic, and amusing." The poor English novelist! He has to +endure a great deal. Whenever an editor is in want of a subject for a +leading article, or a critic for something to talk about, he has a fling +at the English novelist. The greatest artist and the smallest, most +insignificant story-teller; the master and the apprentice; the observer +of manners and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> the school-girl—all are lumped together by the critic +who has nothing else to write about, and discussed under the title of +"the English Novelist." And to think that Jefferies—Richard +Jefferies—should throw his stone! Oh! 'tis too much! But Nemesis fell +upon him, for he presently wrote "Green Ferne Farm," which is neither +short, bright, dramatic, nor amusing. That proposed series did not +appear. He says, a few days afterwards, that he has begun a paper asked +for by Mr. Longman on "The County Suffrage." This paper subsequently +appeared under the title of "After the County Suffrage."</p> + +<p>It was in June, 1883, that <i>Longman's Magazine</i> contained the article +called "The Pageant of Summer." This fine paper, the best thing ever +written by Jefferies, glorified the whole of that number. There has +never been, I think, in any magazine any article like unto it, so +splendid in imagery and language, so perfectly truthful, so overflowing +with observation, so full of the deepest feeling, so tender and so +touching, so generous of thought and suggestion. In this paper Jefferies +reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> his highest point. There are plenty of single pages and +detached passages in which he has equalled the "Pageant of Summer;" but +there is no one chapter, no single article, in which he has sustained +throughout the elevation of this noble paper. I will return to "The +Pageant of Summer" later on.</p> + +<p>Although he wrote this paper while in dire straits of poverty; although +he had already entered that valley whose gloomy sides continually +narrow; where the slopes become, little by little, precipices; where the +light grows dim, and where the spectre of death slowly rises before the +eyes and takes shape: although he lived poorly; although he continued +unknown to the mass of the reading world, who passed him by, everything, +to us, seems compensated by the splendid power which he had now acquired +of thinking such thoughts and expressing them in such language. I have +heard it said by some that Jefferies wrote too much. Not a single page +too much, beginning from the "Gamekeeper at Home," and thinking only of +the "Gamekeeper's" legitimate successors! That is to say, we are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +prepared to surrender portions, but not all—saving great pieces, huge +cantles, here and there whole chapters—of "Bevis," "Wood Magic," "After +London," "Green Ferne Farm," "The Dewy Morn," and even "Amaryllis." We +will blot out everything that has to do with the ordinary figures, +conversations, and situations of what the writer called a novel. But of +the rest we will not part with one single line. Year after +year—generation after generation—the truth and fidelity and beauty of +these pages will sink deeper and deeper into the heart of the world. So +deeply will they sink, so long will they live, that he who writes a +memoir of this man trembles for thinking that when future ages ask who +and what was the man who wrote these things, the pages which contain his +life may seem unequal to the subject—too low, pedestrian, and creeping +for the greatness of the author he commemorates.</p> + +<p>I return to the packet of letters. They go on to offer articles, and to +explain how promised papers are getting on. He wrote nine papers in all +for <i>Longman's Magazine</i>—namely,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> three in 1883, two in 1884, one in +1885, one in 1886, and two, which appeared after his death, in the year +1887.</p> + +<p>In June of 1883 he offers a manuscript which, he says, he has been +meditating for seventeen years. In that case he must have begun to think +of it at eighteen. This, if one begins to consider, is by no means +improbable. On the contrary, I think it is extremely probable, and that +Jefferies meant his words to be taken literally. The thoughts of a boy +are long thoughts. Sometimes one remembers, by some strange trick of +memory—it shows how the past never dies, but may be recalled at any +moment—a train of thought which filled the mind on some day long passed +away, when one was a lad of eighteen; a child; almost an infant. At such +a moment one is astonished to remember that this thought filled the +brain so early. As for the age of adolescence, there is no time when the +brain is more active to question, to imagine, to create, to inform; +none, when the mind is more eager to arrive at certainty; none, more +hopeful of the future; none, more anxious to arrive at the truth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +Therefore, when Jefferies tells Mr. Longman that he has meditated "The +Story of My Heart" for eighteen years, I believe him: not that he then +consciously called the work by that or by any other name, but that the +book is the outcome of so long a period of thought and questioning. "It +is," he says, "a real record—unsparing to myself as to all +things—absolutely and unflinchingly true."</p> + +<p>The book was published with Longman's autumn list in October, 1883. I +have something to say about it in another chapter.</p> + +<p>Jefferies' industry at this time seems superhuman. The MS. of "The Story +of My Heart" is no sooner out of his hands, than he asks Mr. Longman if +he will look at another. This time it is his "Red Deer," which I really +believe to be the very best book of the kind ever produced. This is what +he says himself about it:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The title is 'Red Deer,' and it is a minute account of the natural +history of the wild deer of Exmoor, and of the modes of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> hunting +them. I went all over Exmoor a short time since on foot in order to +see the deer for myself, and in addition I had the advantage of +getting full information from the huntsman himself, and from others +who have watched the deer for twenty years past. The chase of the +wild stag is a bit out of the life of the fifteenth century brought +down to our own times. Nothing has ever interested me so much, and +I contemplate going down again. In addition, there are a number of +Somerset poaching tricks which were explained to me by gamekeepers +and by a landowner there, besides a few curious superstitions. +There seem to be no books about the deer—I mean the wild deer. A +book called 'Collyer's Chase of the Wild Red Deer' was published +many years ago, but is not now to be had."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Red Deer" was brought out by Longmans in 1884.</p> + +<p>In December, 1883, he offers "The Dewy Morn." The proposal came to +nothing. The book was published in the following year by Messrs. Chapman +and Hall. In February, 1884, he speaks of a letter written to him by +Lord<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> Ebrington, master of the Devon and Somerset staghounds, upon his +"Red Deer." Certain small errors were pointed out for correction, but, +as he points out with satisfaction, no serious omission or fault had +been discovered.</p> + +<p>In a letter written in March he mentions that an anonymous correspondent +has been scourging him with Scripture texts on account of the "Story of +My Heart." That anonymous correspondent! How he lieth in wait for +everybody! how omniscient he is! how unsparing! how certain and sure of +everything! The texts which this person used to belabour poor Jefferies +were, however, singularly inappropriate. "O Lord," he quotes, "how +glorious are Thy works! Thy thoughts are very deep. An unwise man doth +not consider this, and a FOOL doth not understand it." The word "fool" +was doubly underlined, so that there should be no mistake as to the +practical application of the passage. The anonymous correspondent is, +indeed, always very particular on this point. But Jefferies had been all +his life commenting on the glory of those works, and endeavouring to +apprehend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> and to realize, if only a little, the meaning and the depth +of these thoughts. The cry of his heart all through the book is for +fuller insight—for a deeper understanding.</p> + +<p>He goes on to speak of his illness. It is not, he says, at all serious; +but it will make him go to London to see a physician, and it is likely +to prevent him from getting about. There is a paper (not one of these +letters) among his literary remains, in which he describes the symptoms +at length.</p> + +<p>In April he writes a long letter about many things, but especially his +"After London."</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I have just put the finishing touch to my new book. It is in three +volumes." As published by Cassell and Co. it was in one volume, and +it leaves off with the story only half told. Perhaps the author cut +it down, perhaps the publishers refused to bring it out unless as a +short one-volume work. "It is called," he says, "'After London,' +with a second title, 'Chronicles of the House of Aquila.' The first +part describes the relapse of England into barbarism; how the roads +are covered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> with grass, how the brambles extend over the fields, +and in time woods occupy the country. These woods are filled with +wild animals—descendants of the dogs, cats, swine, horses, and +cattle that were left, and gradually returned to their original +wild nature. The rivers are choked, and a great lake forms in the +centre of the island.</p> + +<p>"Such inhabitants as remain are resident about the shores of the +lake—the forest being without roads, and their only communication +being by water. They have lost printing and gunpowder; they use the +bow and arrow, and wear armour, but retain some traces of the arts +and of civilization. At the same time, slavery exists, and moral +tyranny. There are numerous petty kingdoms and republics at war +with each other. Knights and barons possess fortified dwellings, +and exercise unbounded power within their stockaded +estates—stockaded against bushmen, forest savages, against bands +of gipsies, and against wild cattle and horses.</p> + +<p>"The Welsh issue from their mountains, claiming England as having +belonged to their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> ancestors. They succeed in conquering a section, +but are confronted by other invaders, for the Irish, thinking that +now is the time for their revenge, land at Chester. These invaders +to some degree neutralize each other, yet they form a standing +menace to the South, and more civilized portion.</p> + +<p>"The state of the site of London is fully described. It is, I +think, an original picture.</p> + +<p>"The second part, or 'Chronicles of the House of Aquila,' treats of +the manner of life, the hunting journeys through the forest, the +feasts and festivals, and, in short, the entire life of the time. +Ultimately, one of them starts on a voyage round the great inland +lake, and his adventures are followed. He assists at a siege, and +visits the site of London.</p> + +<p>"All these matters are purposely dealt with in minute detail so +that they may appear actual realities, and the incidents stand out +as if they had just happened. There is a love affair, but it is in +no sense a novel; more like a romance, but no romance of a real +character.</p> + +<p>"First, you see, I have to picture the con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>dition of the country +'After London,' and then to set my heroes to work, and fight, and +travel in it."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This book was brought out, as stated above, by Cassell and Co. in 1886. +The idea is indeed truly original. Had it been more of a novel, with an +end, as well as a beginning, it would have proved more successful.</p> + +<p>"You tell me," Jefferies continues, "that I write too much. To me it +seems as if I wrote nothing, more especially since my illness; for this +is the third year I have been so weakened. To me, I say, it seems as if +I wrote nothing, for my mind teems with ideas, and my difficulty is to +know what to do with them. I not only sketch out the general plan of a +book almost instantaneously, but I can see every little detail of it +from the first page to the last. The mere writing—the handwriting—is +the only trouble; it is very wearying. At this moment I have several +volumes quite complete in my mind. Scarce a day goes by but I put down a +fresh thought. I have twelve note-books crammed full of ideas, plots, +sketches of papers, and so on."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>These are probably the note-books of which I have spoken, and from which +I have quoted.</p> + +<p>The following, dated January 29, 1885, refers to a copy of the Badminton +hunting-book sent him by Mr. Longman:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"You have made me pretty miserable. I have just read the otter +chapter, and I can see it all so plainly—the rocks and the rush of +water, and the oaks of June above. Have you ever seen the Exe and +Barle? It is a land of Paradise. So you have made me miserable +enough, being on all-fours; literally not able to go even on three, +as the Sphynx said, but on four, crawling upstairs on hands and +knees, and nailed to the uneasy chair."</p></blockquote> + +<p>He offers more work from Crowborough (May 1, 1884 or 1885, uncertain). +There is a new novel of which he speaks, called "A Bit of Human Nature," +which never appeared, and was probably never written. The rest of the +letters belong to the last few months of his life, and must be reserved +for the last chapter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Enough has been quoted from these letters to show the extraordinary +mental activity of the man. He is continually planning new work. He sees +a whole book spread out before him complete in all its details. To make +a book—that is to say, to imagine a book already made,—is nothing; +what troubles him is the writing it. This temperament, however, is fatal +to novel-writing, because characters cannot be seen at once; they must +be studied, they require time to grow in the brain. But Jefferies cannot +write enough. It seems to his fertile brain, fevered with long sickness, +as if he did nothing.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>THE COUNTRY LIFE.</h3> + + +<p>It was then, very slowly, and after many hesitations, false starts, +deviations, and mistakes, that Jefferies at last discovered himself and +his real powers. He had written, for obscure country papers, pages of +local descriptions: he had written feeble and commonplace novels, which +all fell dead at their birth, and of which none survive to reproach his +memory or to darken the splendour of his later work. He had also written +practical common-sense papers on agriculture, the farmer and the +farm-labourer. He thus worked his way slowly, first to the mere +mechanical art of writing, that is, to the expression, somehow or other, +of thought and ideas; next, when this was acquired, he endeavoured to +depict society, of which he knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> nothing, and its manners, of which he +was completely ignorant; thirdly, after many years of blundering along +the wrong road, he advanced to the perception of the great truth that he +who would succeed in the great profession of letters must absolutely +write on some subject that he knows, and that he should understand his +own limitations. For instance, Jefferies, as we have seen, ardently +desired to become a novelist. If a man be habitually observant of his +fellow-men, if he have the eye of a humourist, a brain which is like a +store-house for capacity, a fair measure of the dramatic faculty, an +instinctive power of selection, and the faculty of getting away from his +own individuality altogether, he will perhaps do well to try the +profession of a novelist. But Jefferies possessed one only of these +faculties: he had a brain which would hold millions of facts, each +consigned to its proper place: but he had little or no humour: he had no +power of creating situation and incident: and he could never possibly +get outside himself and away from his own people. He could not, +therefore, become a novelist: that line of work—though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> he never +understood it—was closed to him from the beginning. Nature herself +stood before him, though he neither saw nor heard her, as Balaam could +not see the angel, and barred his way. But when he discovered his own +incomparable gift, which was not until he was nearly thirty years of +age, he sprang suddenly before the world as one who could speak of +Nature and her wondrous works in field and forest, as no man ever spake +before.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There is a passage in Thomas Hardy's "Woodlanders" which might have been +written of Richard Jefferies. The words, which could only have been +written by one who himself knows the country life, concern a pair, not +one:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The casual glimpses which the ordinary population bestowed upon +that wondrous world of sap and leaves called the Hintock woods had +been, with these two, a clear gaze. They had been possessed of its +finer mysteries as of commonplace knowledge; had been able to read +its hieroglyphs as ordinary writing;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> to them the sights and sounds +of night, winter, wind, storm, amid those dense boughs, were simple +occurrences whose origin, continuance, and laws they foreknew. They +had planted together, and together they had felled; together they +had, with the run of the years, mentally collected those remoter +signs and symbols which seen in few were of runic obscurity, but +all together made an alphabet. From the light lashing of the twigs +upon their faces when brushing through them in the dark, they could +pronounce upon the species of the tree whence they stretched; from +the quality of the wind's murmur through a bough they could in like +manner name its sort afar off. They knew by a glance at a trunk if +its heart were sound, or tainted with incipient decay; and by the +state of its upper twigs the stratum that had been reached by its +roots. The artifices of the seasons were seen by them from the +conjuror's own point of view, and not from that of the spectator."</p></blockquote> + +<p>There are not in the whole of the English-speaking world, which now +numbers close<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> upon a hundred million, more, I suppose, than forty +thousand who read Jefferies' works. Out of the forty thousand not +one-half have read them all. For some are contented with the "Gamekeeper +at Home," "Red Deer," and the "Amateur Poacher." Some have on their +shelves "The Life in the Fields," or "The Open Air." Few, indeed, have +read all those books which came from his brain in so full and clear a +stream. This stream may be likened unto the river by whose banks +Petrarch loved to wander; inasmuch as it springs full grown from the +foot of a great bare precipice. All around is tumbled rock. So, among +the heaped and broken rocks of disappointed hopes and baffled attempts, +this full, strong, and clear stream leaped forth triumphant.</p> + +<p>For the greater part of mankind Jefferies is too full. They cannot +absorb so much; they are more at their ease with the last century poets +who use to talk vaguely of the perfumed flowers, the rustling leaves, +the finny tribe, and the warbling of the birds in the bosky grove. It +fatigues them to read of so much that they can never see for themselves; +it irritates them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> perhaps, even to think that there is so much; they +are more at home among their geraniums in the conservatory; they even +call his style a cataloguing.</p> + +<p>There is also another thing where Jefferies is outside the sympathies of +the multitude. This solitary, who was never so happy as when he wandered +alone upon the downs with no human creature in sight, is yet intensely +human. All kinds of injustice, and especially social injustice, the +grinding and robbery and oppression of the producer, the pride of caste +and class, the pretensions of rank and the insolence of money—these +things make him angry. Now, if there be one thing more lamentably sure +and certain than another, it is that injustice does not make the average +man angry. If money is to be made by injustice, he will be unjust. He +will call his injustice, unless he covers and hides it up, the custom of +the trade, and persuade himself that it is laudable and even Christian +so to act. When another man speaks the truth about these injustices, he +gets uncomfortable. Because, you see, he goes to church, and perhaps +bears<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> a character for eminent piety. There were doubtless churchwardens +and sidesmen among those who, fifty years ago, used to send the little +children of six to work for fourteen hours in the dark coal-pit. +Jefferies had lived so little in towns and among men that he did not +know any sophistry of trade custom, and when he heard of these customs +his soul flamed up. It is not a side of his character which often comes +into view; but it comes often enough to irritate many excellent people +who live in great comfort by the exertions of other people, and plume +themselves mightily upon their virtues, hereditary or otherwise. +Jefferies could never have called himself a Socialist; but he +sympathized with that part of Socialism which claims for every man the +full profit of the labour of his hands.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dim woodlands made him wiser far<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than those who thresh their barren thought<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With flails of knowledge dearly bought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till all his soul shone like a star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That flames at fringe of Heaven's bar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There breaks the surf of space unseen<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Against Hope's veil that lies between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's future and the woes that are.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">His soul saw through the weary years—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past war-bells' chimes and poor men's tears—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That day when Time shall bring to birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(By many a heart whose hope seems vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a fight where Love slays Pain)<br /></span> +<span class="i1">True Freedom, come to reign on earth."<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> These lines were communicated to me by the writer, Mr. H.H. +von Sturmer, of Cambridge.</p></div> + +<p>In thinking of Jefferies and the country life, one is continually +tempted to compare him with Thoreau. There are some points of +resemblance. Neither Thoreau nor Jefferies had a scientific training. I +do not gather from any page in the works of the latter that he was a +scientific botanist, entomologist, or ornithologist. Both were men of +few wants and simple habits. Neither went to church, yet in the heart of +each there was a profound sense of religion, which, in the case of +Jefferies, took the form of a firm faith in the future destiny of the +soul. Both men were impatient of authority and of imitation. Each +desired to be self-sufficient. What Emerson says of Thoreau in respect +of open air and exercise might have been written of Jefferies. "The +length of his walk uniformly made the length<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> of his writing. If shut up +in the house he could not write at all."</p> + +<p>In both men there was to be observed a great strength of common-sense. +And again, there was this other point common to both, that no college—I +here imitate Emerson on Thoreau—ever offered either of them a diploma +or a professor's chair: no academy made either man its corresponding +secretary, its founder, or even its member. And the following passage, +written by Emerson of Thoreau, might be equally well written, <i>mutatis +mutandis</i>, of Jefferies:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Thoreau dedicated his genius with such entire love to the fields, +hills and waters of his native town, that he made them known and +interesting to all reading Americans, and to people over the sea. +The river on whose banks he was born and died he knew from its +springs to its confluence with the Merrimack. He had made summer +and winter observations on it for many years, and at every hour of +the day and night. Every fact which occurs in the bed, on the +banks, or in the air over it; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> fishes, and their spawning and +nests, their manners, their food; the shad-flies which fill the air +on a certain evening once a year, and which are snapped at by the +fishes so ravenously that many of these die of repletion; the +conical heaps of small stones on the river-shallows; the huge nests +of small fishes, one of which will sometimes overfill a cart; the +birds which frequent the stream, heron, duck, sheldrake, loon, +osprey; the snake, muskrat, otter, woodchuck and fox, on the banks; +the turtle, frog, hyla, and cricket, which make the banks +vocal—were all known to him, and, as it were, townsmen and +fellow-creatures; so that he felt an absurdity or violence in any +narrative of one of these by itself apart, and still more of its +dimensions on an inch-rule, or in the exhibition of its skeleton, +or the specimen of a squirrel or a bird in brandy. He liked to +speak of the manners of the river, as itself a lawful creature, yet +with exactness, and always to an observed fact. As he knew the +river, so the ponds in this region."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Again, though Thoreau was short of stature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> and Jefferies tall, there is +something similar in their faces: the lofty forehead; the full, serious +eye; the large nose—these are features common to both. And to both was +common—but Jefferies had, perhaps, the greater forbearance—a certain +impatience with the common herd of mankind who know not, and care not +for, Nature.</p> + +<p>There is another passage on Thoreau by a younger writer,<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> which might +just as well have been written, word for word, of Jefferies:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The quality which we should call mystery in a painting, and which +belongs so particularly to the aspect of the external world and to +its influence upon our feelings, was one which he was never weary +of attempting to reproduce in his books. The seeming significance +of nature's appearances, their unchanging strangeness to the +senses, and the thrilling response which they waken in the mind of +man, continued to surprise and stimulate his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> spirits. It appeared +to him, I think, that if we could only write near enough to the +facts, and yet with no pedestrian calm, but ardently, we might +transfer the glamour of reality direct upon our pages; and that, if +it were once thus captured and expressed, a new and instructive +relation might appear between men's thoughts and the phenomena of +nature. This was the eagle that he pursued all his life long, like +a schoolboy with a butterfly net. Hear him to a friend: 'Let me +suggest a theme for you—to state to yourself precisely and +completely what that walk over the mountains amounted to for you, +returning to this essay again and again until you are satisfied +that all that was important in your experience is in it.'"</p></blockquote> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Robert Louis Stevenson, "Men and Books: <i>Thoreau</i>." Chatto +and Windus, London.</p></div> + +<p>It was not until Jefferies had thoroughly mastered this lesson, and +saturated himself with its spirit, that he began to write well. No one +would believe that the same hand which wrote "The Scarlet Shawl" also +wrote "The Pageant of Summer." I firmly believe that it is not until a +man obtains the great gift of beautiful thought that he can even begin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +to understand the beauty of style. To some such thoughts come early; to +others, late. When Jefferies left men for the fields, and not till then, +his mind became every day more and more charged with beauty of thought, +and his style grew correspondingly day by day more charged with beauty. +This beauty of thought grows in him out of the intense love, the +passionate love, which he has for everything in Nature: it is the child +of that love: it is Nature's reward for that love: he loves not only +flowers and trees, but every flower, every tree; he is even contented to +look upon the same trees, the same hedges filled with flowers every day:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I do not want change," he says; "I want the same old and loved +things, the same wildflowers, the same trees and soft ash-green; +the turtle-doves, the blackbirds, the coloured yellow-hammer sing, +sing, singing so long as there is light to cast a shadow on the +dial, for such is the measure of his song: and I want them in the +same place. Let me find them morning after morning, the +starry-white petals<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> radiating, striving upwards to their ideal. +Let me see the idle shadows resting on the white dust; let me hear +the humble-bees, and stay to look down on the rich dandelion disk. +Let me see the very thistles opening their great crowns—I should +miss the thistles; the reed-grasses hiding the moorhen; the bryony +bine, at first crudely ambitious and lifted by force of youthful +sap straight above the hedgerow to sink of its own weight presently +and progress with crafty tendrils; swifts shot through the air with +outstretched wings like crescent-headed shaftless arrows darted +from the clouds; the chaffinch with a feather in her bill; all the +living staircase of the spring, step by step, upwards to the great +gallery of the summer—let me watch the same succession year by +year."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Therefore, and in return for this great love, Nature rewarded him. +Jefferies began, as Thoreau recommends, by writing down everything that +he saw: he presently arrived at an inconceivable power of minute +observation. Pages might be quoted to show this wonderful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> closeness. It +is indeed the first, but not the finest, characteristic of Jefferies. It +was the point which most struck the critic in the "Gamekeeper at Home." +But it is not the point which most strikes the reader in his later and +more delicate work. Here the things which he loves speak to him: they +reply to his questioning; they support and raise his soul. "So it has +ever been to me," he says, "by day or by night, summer or winter: +beneath trees the heart feels nearer to that depth of life which the far +sky means. The rest of spirit found only in beauty, ideal and pure, +comes there because the distance seems within touch of thought."</p> + +<p>In Jefferies' later books the whole of the country life of the +nineteenth century will be found displayed down to every detail. The +life of the farmer is there; the life of the labourer; the life of the +gamekeeper; the life of the women who work in the fields, and of those +who work at home. If this were all, he would well deserve the gratitude +of the English-speaking race, because in any generation to get so great +a part of life described<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> truthfully is an enormous boon. But it is far +from being the most considerable part of his work. He revealed Nature in +her works and ways; the flowers and the fields; the wild English +creatures; the hedges and the streams; the wood and coppice. He told +what may be seen everywhere by those who have eyes to see. He worked his +way, as we have seen, to this point. And, again, if this were all, he +would well deserve the gratitude which we willingly accord to a White of +Selborne. But this is not all. For next he took the step—the vast +step—across the chasm which separates the poetic from the vulgar mind, +and began to clothe the real with the colours and glamour of the unreal; +to write down the response of the soul to the phenomena of nature: to +interpret the voice of Nature speaking to the soul. Unto his last. And +then he died; his work, which might have gone on for ever, cut off +almost at the commencement.</p> + +<p>I desire in this chapter to show how Jefferies paints the country life; +to show him in his minuteness and fidelity first, and in his higher +flights afterwards. Even to those who know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> Jefferies there will be +something new in reading these scenes again. To those who know him not, +and yet can feel beauty and truth and simplicity—things so rare, so +very rare—these scenes will be like the entrance to some unknown +gallery filled with pictures exquisite, touching and tender.</p> + +<p>I select, first, a specimen of his early style. He is speaking of the +provision made by the oak for the creatures of the wood:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"It is curious to note the number of creatures to whom the oak +furnishes food. The jays, for instance, are now visiting them for +acorns; in the summer they fluttered round the then green branches +for the chafers, and in the evenings the fern owls or goat-suckers +wheeled about the verge for these and for moths. Rooks come to the +oaks in crowds for the acorns; wood-pigeons are even more fond of +them, and from their crops quite a handful may sometimes be taken +when shot in the trees.</p> + +<p>"They will carry off at once as many acorns as old-fashioned +economical farmers used to walk about with in their pockets, +'chucking'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> them one, two, or three at a time to the pigs in the +stye as a <i>bonne bouche</i> and an encouragement to fatten well. Never +was there such a bird to eat as the wood-pigeon. Pheasants roam out +from the preserves after the same fruit, and no arts can retain +them at acorn time. Swine are let run out about the hedgerows to +help themselves. Mice pick up the acorns that fall, and hide them +for winter use, and squirrels select the best.</p> + +<p>"If there is a decaying bough, or, more particularly, one that has +been sawn off, it slowly decays into a hollow, and will remain in +that state for years, the resort of endless woodlice, snapped up by +insect-eating birds. Down from the branches in spring there descend +long, slender threads, like gossamer, with a caterpillar at the end +of each—the insect-eating birds decimate these. So that in various +ways the oaks give more food to the birds than any other tree. +Where there are oaks there are sure to be plenty of birds."</p></blockquote> + +<p>After reading this, turn to the following, in quite a different style, +from the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> volume. Could the same man, one asks, have written both +these passages?</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The waves coming round the promontory before the west wind still +give the idea of a flowing stream, as they did in Homer's days. +Here beneath the cliff, standing where beach and sand meet, it is +still; the wind passes six hundred feet overhead. But yonder, every +larger wave rolling before the breeze breaks over the rocks; a +white line of spray rushes along them, gleaming in the sunshine; +for a moment the dark rock-wall disappears, till the spray sinks.</p> + +<p>"The sea seems higher than the spot where I stand, its surface on a +higher level—raised like a green mound—as if it could burst in +and occupy the space up to the foot of the cliff in a moment. It +will not do so, I know; but there is an infinite possibility about +the sea; it may do what it is not recorded to have done. It is not +to be ordered, it may overleap the bounds human observation has +fixed for it. It has a potency unfathomable. There is still +something in it not quite grasped and under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>stood—something still +to be discovered—a mystery.</p> + +<p>"So the white spray rushes along the low broken wall of rocks, the +sun gleams on the flying fragments of the wave, again it sinks, and +the rhythmic motion holds the mind, as an invisible force holds +back the tide. A faith of expectancy, a sense that something may +drift up from the unknown, a large belief in the unseen resources +of the endless space out yonder, soothes the mind with dreamy hope.</p> + +<p>"The little rules and little experiences, all the petty ways of +narrow life, are shut off behind by the ponderous and impassable +cliff; as if we had dwelt in the dim light of a cave, but coming +out at last to look at the sun, a great stone had fallen and closed +the entrance, so that there was no return to the shadow. The +impassable precipice shuts off our former selves of yesterday, +forcing us to look out over the sea only, or up to the deeper +heaven.</p> + +<p>"These breadths draw out the soul; we feel that we have wider +thoughts than we knew; the soul has been living, as it were, in a +nutshell, all unaware of its own power, and now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> suddenly finds +freedom in the sun and the sky. Straight, as if sawn down from turf +to beach, the cliff shuts off the human world, for the sea knows no +time and no era; you cannot tell what century it is from the face +of the sea. A Roman trireme suddenly rounding the white edge-line +of chalk, borne on wind and oar from the Isle of Wight towards the +gray castle at Pevensey (already old in olden days), would not seem +strange. What wonder could surprise us coming from the wonderful +sea?"</p></blockquote> + +<p>Here, again, is a specimen of what has been called his "cataloguing." He +describes a hedgerow. Cataloguing! Yes. But was ever observation more +minute?</p> + +<blockquote><p>"A wild 'plum,' or bullace, grew in one place; the plum about twice +the size of a sloe, with a bloom upon the skin like the cultivated +fruit, but lacking its sweetness. Yet there was a distinct +difference of taste: the 'plum' had not got the extreme harshness +of the sloe. A quantity of dogwood occupied a corner; in summer it +bore a pleasing flower; in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> autumn, after the black berries +appeared upon it, the leaves became a rich bronze colour, and some +when the first frosts touched them, curled up at the edge and +turned crimson. There were two or three guelder-rose bushes—the +wild shrub—which were covered in June with white bloom; not in +snowy balls like the garden variety, but flat and circular, the +florets at the edge of the circle often whitest, and those in the +centre greenish. In autumn the slender boughs were weighed down +with heavy bunches of large purplish berries, so full of red juice +as to appear on the point of bursting. As these soon disappeared +they were doubtless eaten by birds.</p> + +<p>"Besides the hawthorn and briar there were several species of +willow—the snake-skin willow, so called because it sheds its bark; +the 'snap-willow,' which is so brittle that every gale breaks off +its feeble twigs, and pollards. One of these, hollow and old, had +upon its top a crowd of parasites. A bramble had taken root there, +and hung over the side; a small currant-bush grew freely—both, no +doubt, unwittingly planted by birds—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> finally the bines of the +noxious bitter-sweet or nightshade, starting from the decayed wood, +supported themselves among the willow-branches, and in autumn were +bright with red berries. Ash-stoles, the buds on whose boughs in +spring are hidden under black sheaths; nut-tree stoles, with +ever-welcome nuts—always stolen here, but on the downs, where they +are plentiful, staying till they fall; young oak growing up from +the butt of a felled tree. On these oak-twigs sometimes, besides +the ordinary round galls, there may be found another gall, larger, +and formed, as it were, of green scales one above the other.</p> + +<p>"Where shall we find in the artificial and, to my thinking, +tasteless pleasure-grounds of modern houses so beautiful a +shrubbery as this old hedgerow? Nor were evergreens wanting, for +the ivy grew thickly, and there was one holly bush—not more, for +the soil was not affected by holly. The tall cow-parsnip or 'gicks' +rose up through the bushes; the great hollow stem of the angelica +grew at the edge of the field, on the verge of the grass, but still +sheltered by the brambles. Some reeds early<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> in spring thrust up +their slender green tubes, tipped with two spear-like leaves. The +reed varies in height according to the position in which it grows. +If the hedge has been cut it does not reach higher than four or +five feet; when it springs from a deep, hollow corner, or with +bushes to draw it up, you can hardly touch its tip with your +walking-stick. The leaders of the black bryony, lifting themselves +above the bushes, and having just there nothing to cling to, twist +around each other, and two bines thus find mutual support where one +alone would fall of its own weight.</p> + +<p>"In the watery places the sedges send up their dark flowers, dusted +with light yellow pollen, rising above the triangular stem with its +narrow, ribbed leaf. The reed-sparrow or bunting sits upon the +spray over the ditch with its carex grass and rushes; he is a +graceful bird, with a crown of glossy black. Hops climb the ash and +hang their clusters, which impart an aromatic scent to the hand +that plucks them; broad burdock leaves, which the mouchers put on +the top of their baskets to shield their freshly gathered +watercresses from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> the sunshine; creeping avens, with +buttercup-like flowers and long stems that straggle across the +ditch, and in autumn are tipped with a small ball of soft spines; +mints, strong-scented and unmistakable; yarrow, white and sometimes +a little lilac, whose flower is perhaps almost the last that the +bee visits. In the middle of October I have seen a wild bee on a +last stray yarrow."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Again we are in the forest, and again 'cataloguing':</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The beechnuts are already falling in the forest, and the swine are +beginning to search for them while yet the harvest lingers. The +nuts are formed by midsummer, and now, the husk opening, the brown +angular kernel drops out. Many of the husks fall, too; others +remain on the branches till next spring. Under the beeches the +ground is strewn with the mast, as hard almost to walk on as +pebbles. Rude and uncouth as swine are in themselves, somehow they +look different under trees. The brown leaves amid which they rout, +and the brown-tinted fern behind, lend something of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> their colour +and smooth away their ungainliness. Snorting as they work with very +eagerness of appetite, they are almost wild, approaching in a +measure to their ancestors, the savage boars. Under the trees the +imagination plays unchecked, and calls up the past as if yew bow +and broad arrow were still in the hunter's hands. So little is +changed since then. The deer are here still. Sit down on the root +of this oak (thinly covered with moss), and on that very spot it is +quite possible a knight fresh home from the Crusades may have +rested and feasted his eyes on the lovely green glades of his own +unsurpassed England. The oak was there then, young and strong; it +is here now, ancient, but sturdy. Rarely do you see an oak fall of +itself. It decays to the last stump; it does not fall. The sounds +are the same—the tap as a ripe acorn drops, the rustle of a leaf +which comes down slowly, the quick rushes of mice playing in the +fern. A movement at one side attracts the glance, and there is a +squirrel darting about. There is another at the very top of the +beech yonder, out on the boughs, nibbling the nuts. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> brown spot a +long distance down the glade suddenly moves, and thereby shows +itself to be a rabbit. The bellowing sound that comes now and then +is from the stags, which are preparing to fight. The swine snort, +and the mast and leaves rustle as they thrust them aside. So little +is changed: these are the same sounds and the same movements, just +as in the olden time.</p> + +<p>"The soft autumn sunshine, shorn of summer glare, lights up with +colour the fern, the fronds of which are yellow and brown, the +leaves, the gray grass, and hawthorn sprays already turned. It +seems as if the early morning's mists have the power of tinting +leaf and fern, for so soon as they commence the green hues begin to +disappear. There are swathes of fern yonder, cut down like grass or +corn, the harvest of the forest. It will be used for litter and for +thatching sheds. The yellow stalks—the stubble—will turn brown +and wither through the winter, till the strong spring shoot comes +up and the anemones flower. Though the sunbeams reach the ground +here, half the green glade is in shadow, and for one step that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> you +walk in sunlight ten are in shade. Thus, partly concealed in full +day, the forest always contains a mystery. The idea that there may +be something in the dim arches held up by the round columns of the +beeches lures the footsteps onwards. Something must have been +lately in the circle under the oak where the fern and bushes remain +at a distance and wall in a lawn of green. There is nothing on the +grass but the upheld leaves that have dropped, no mark of any +creature, but this is not decisive; if there are no physical signs, +there is a feeling that the shadow is not vacant. In the thickets, +perhaps—the shadowy thickets with front of thorn—it has taken +refuge and eluded us. Still onward the shadows lead us in vain but +pleasant chase."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Next let us rise with the rustic and follow him as he begins his day's +work:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The pale beams of the waning moon still cast a shadow of the +cottage, when the labourer rises from his heavy sleep on a winter's +morning. Often he huddles on his things and slips his feet into his +thick 'water-tights'—which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> are stiff and hard, having been wet +over-night—by no other light than this. If the household is +comparatively well managed, however, he strikes a match, and his +'dip' shows at the window. But he generally prefers to save a +candle, and clatters down the narrow steep stairs in the +semi-darkness, takes a piece of bread and cheese, and steps forth +into the sharp air. The cabbages in the garden he notes are covered +with white frost, so is the grass in the fields, and the footpath +is hard under foot. In the furrows is a little ice—white because +the water has shrunk from beneath it, leaving it hollow—and on the +stile is a crust of rime, cold to the touch, which he brushes off +in getting over. Overhead the sky is clear—cloudless but pale—and +the stars, though not yet fading, have lost the brilliant glitter +of midnight. Then, in all their glory, the idea of their globular +shape is easily accepted; but in the morning, just as the dawn is +breaking, the absence of glitter conveys the impression of +flatness—circular rather than globular. But yonder, over the elms, +above the cowpens, the great morning star has risen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> shining far +brighter, in proportion, than the moon; an intensely clear metallic +light—like incandescent silver.</p> + +<p>"The shadows of the trees on the frosted ground are dull. As the +footpath winds by the hedge the noise of his footstep startles the +blackbird roosting in the bushes, and he bustles out and flies +across the field. There is more rime on the posts and rails around +the rickyard, and the thatch on the haystack is white with it in +places. He draws out the broad hay-knife—a vast blade, wide at the +handle, the edge gradually curving to a point—and then searches +for the rubber or whetstone, stuck somewhere in the side of the +rick. At the first sound of the stone upon the steel the cattle in +the adjoining yard and sheds utter a few low 'moos,' and there is a +stir among them. Mounting the ladder, he forces the knife with both +hands into the hay, making a square cut which bends outwards, +opening from the main mass till it appears on the point of parting +and letting him fall with it to the ground. But long practice has +taught him how to balance himself half on the ladder, half on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +hay. Presently, with a truss unbound and loose on his head, he +enters the yard, and passes from crib to crib, leaving a little +here and a little there. For if he fills one first there will be +quarrelling among the cows, and besides, if the crib is too +liberally filled, they will pull it out and tread it under foot."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Here is the portrait from his book of the Red Deer:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"There is no more beautiful creature than a stag in his pride of +antler, his coat of ruddy gold, his grace of form and motion. He +seems the natural owner of the ferny coombes, the oak woods, the +broad slopes of heather. They belong to him, and he steps upon the +sward in lordly mastership. The land is his, and the hills; the +sweet streams and rocky glens. He is infinitely more natural than +the cattle and sheep that have strayed into his domains. For some +inexplicable reason, although they, too, are in reality natural, +when he is present they look as if they had been put there, and +were kept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> there by artificial means. They do not, as painters say, +shade in with the colours and shape of the landscape. He is as +natural as an oak, or a fern, or a rock itself. He is earth-born, +autochthon, and holds possession by descent. Utterly scorning +control, the walls and hedges are nothing to him; he roams where he +chooses, as fancy leads, and gathers the food that pleases him. +Pillaging the crops, and claiming his dues from the orchards and +gardens, he exercises his ancient feudal rights, indifferent to the +laws of house-people. Disturb him in his wild stronghold of oakwood +or heather, and as he yields to force, still he stops and looks +back proudly. He is slain, but never conquered. He will not cross +with the tame park deer; proud as a Spanish noble, he disdains the +fallow deer, and breeds only with his own race. But it is chiefly +because of his singular adaptation and fitness to the places where +he is found that he obtains our sympathy. The branching antlers +accord so well with the deep, shadowy boughs and the broad fronds +of the brake; the golden red of his coat fits to the foxglove, the +purple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> heather, and later on to the orange and red of the beech; +his easy-bounding motion springs from the elastic sward; his limbs +climb the steep hill as if it were level; his speed covers the +distance, and he goes from place to place as the wind. He not only +lives in the wild, wild woods and moors, he grows out of them as +the oak grows from the ground. The noble stag, in his pride of +antler, is lord and monarch of all the creatures left in English +forests and on English hills."</p></blockquote> + +<p>What do we purblind mortals see when we walk through a wood in winter? +Listen to what Jefferies saw in January, when the woods are at their +very brownest, and all Nature seems wrapped in winter sleep:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Some little green stays on the mounds where the rabbits creep and +nibble the grasses. Cinquefoil remains green though faded, and wild +parsley the freshest looking of all; plantain leaves are found +under shelter of brambles, and the dumb nettles, though the old +stalks are dead, have living leaves at the ground. Gray-veined ivy +trails along, here and there is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> a frond of hart's-tongue fern, +though withered at the tip, and greenish-gray lichen grows on the +exposed stumps of trees. These together give a green tint to the +mound, which is not so utterly devoid of colour as the season of +the year might indicate. Where they fail, brown brake fern fills +the spaces between the brambles; and in a moist spot the bunches of +rushes are composed half of dry stalks, and half of green. Stems of +willow-herb, four feet high, still stand, and tiny long-tailed tits +perch sideways on them. Above, on the bank, another species of +willow-herb has died down to a short stalk, from which springs a +living branch, and at its end is one pink flower. A dandelion is +opening on the same sheltered bank; farther on the gorse is +sprinkled with golden spots of bloom. A flock of greenfinches +starts from the bushes, and their colour shows against the ruddy +wands of the osier-bed over which they fly. The path winds round +the edge of the wood, where a waggon-track goes up the hill; it is +deeply grooved at the foot of the hill. These tracks wear deeply +into the chalk just where the ascent begins. The chalk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> adheres to +the shoes like mortar, and for some time after one has left it each +footstep leaves a white mark on the turf. On the ridge the low +trees and bushes have an outline like the flame of a candle in a +draught—the wind has blown them till they have grown fixed in that +shape. In an oak across the ploughed field a flock of wood-pigeons +have settled; on the furrows there are chaffinches, and larks rise +and float a few yards farther away. The snow has ceased, and though +there is no wind on the surface, the clouds high above have opened +somewhat, not sufficient for the sun to shine, but to prolong the +already closing afternoon a few minutes. If the sun shines +to-morrow morning the lark will soar and sing, though it is +January, and the quick note of the chaffinch will be heard as he +perches on the little branches projecting from the trunks of trees +below the great boughs. Thrushes sing every mild day in December +and January, entirely irrespective of the season, also before +rain."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Here is Cider-land:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p><blockquote><p>"The Lower Path, after stile and hedge and elm, and grass that +glows with golden buttercups, quietly leaves the side of the double +mounds and goes straight through the orchards. There are fewer +flowers under the trees, and the grass grows so long and rank that +it has already fallen aslant of its own weight. It is choked, too, +by masses of clogweed, that springs up profusely over the sight of +old foundations; so that here ancient masonry may be hidden under +the earth. Indeed, these orchards are a survival from the days when +the monks laboured in vineyard and garden, and mayhap even of +earlier times. When once a locality has got into the habit of +growing a certain crop, it continues to produce it for century +after century; and thus there are villages famous for apple or pear +or cherry, while the district at large is not at all given to such +culture.</p> + +<p>"The trunks of the trees succeed each other in endless ranks, like +columns that support the most beautiful roof of pink and white. +Here the bloom is rosy, there white prevails: the young green is +hidden under the petals that are far more numerous than leaves, or +even than leaves will be. Though the path really<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> is in shadow as +the branches shut out the sun, yet it seems brighter here than in +the open, as if the place were illuminated by a million tiny lamps +shedding the softest lustre. The light is reflected and apparently +increased by the countless flowers overhead.</p> + +<p>"The forest of bloom extends acre after acre, and only ceases where +hedges divide, to commence again beyond the boundary. A +wicket-gate, all green with a film of vegetation over the decaying +wood, opens under the very eaves of a cottage, and the path goes by +the door—across a narrow meadow where deep and broad trenches, +green now, show where ancient stews or fishponds existed, and then +through a farmyard into a lane. Tall poplars rise on either hand, +but there seem to be no houses; they stand in fact a field's +breadth back from the lane, and are approached by footpaths that +every few yards necessitate a stile in the hedge.</p> + +<p>"When a low thatched farmhouse does abut upon the way, the blank +white wall of the rear part faces the road, and the front door +opens on precisely the other side. Hard by is a row of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> beehives. +Though the modern hives are at once more economical and humane, +they have not the old associations that cling about the straw domes +topped with broken earthenware to shoot off the heavy downfall of a +thunderstorm.</p> + +<p>"Everywhere the apple-bloom; the hum of bees; children sitting on +the green beside the road, their laps full of flowers; the song of +finches; and the low murmur of water that glides over flint and +stone so shadowed by plants and grasses that the sunbeams cannot +reach and glisten on it. Thus the straggling flower-strewn village +stretches along beneath the hill and rises up the slope, and the +swallows wheel and twitter over the gables where are their +hereditary nesting-places. The lane ends on a broad dusty road, +and, opposite, a quiet thatched house of the larger sort stands, +endways to the street, with an open pitching before the windows. +There, too, the swallows' nests are crowded under the eaves, +flowers are trained against the wall, and in the garden stand the +same beautiful apple-trees."</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<p>Let us witness, with him, the dawn of a summer day:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The star went on. In the meadows of the vale far away doubtless +there were sounds of the night. On the hills it was absolute +silence—profound rest. They slept peacefully, and the moon rose to +the meridian. The pale white glow on the northern horizon slipped +towards the east. After a while a change came over the night. The +hills and coombes became gray and more distinct, the sky lighter, +the stars faint, the moon that had been ruddy became yellow, and +then almost white.</p> + +<p>"Yet a little while, and one by one the larks arose from the grass, +and first twittering and vibrating their brown wings just above the +hawthorn bushes, presently breasted the aërial ascent, and sang at +'Heaven's Gate.'</p> + +<p>"Geoffrey awoke and leaned upon his arm; his first thought was of +Margaret, and he looked towards the copse. All was still; then in +the dawn the strangeness of that hoary relic of the past sheltering +so lovely a form came home to him. Next he gazed eastwards.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There a great low bank, a black wall of cloud, was rising rapidly, +extending on either hand, growing momentarily broader, darker, +threatening to cover the sky. He watched it come up swiftly, and +saw that as it neared it became lighter in colour, first gray, then +white. It was the morning mist driven along before the breeze, +whose breath had not reached him yet. In a few minutes the wall of +vapour passed over him as the waters rolled over Pharaoh. A puff of +wind blew his hair back from his forehead, then another and +another; presently a steady breeze, cool and refreshing. The mist +drove rapidly along; after awhile gaps appeared overhead, and +through these he saw broad spaces of blue sky, the colour growing +and deepening. The gaps widened, the mist became thinner; then +this, the first wave of vapour, was gone, creeping up the hillside +behind him like the rearguard of an army.</p> + +<p>"Out from the last fringe of mist shone a great white globe. Like +molten silver, glowing with a lusciousness of light, soft and yet +brilliant, so large and bright and seemingly so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> near—but just +above the ridge yonder—shining with heavenly splendour in the very +dayspring. He knew Eosphoros, the Light-Bringer, the morning star +of hope and joy and love, and his heart went out towards the beauty +and the glory of it. Under him the broad bosom of the earth seemed +to breathe instinct with life, bearing him up, and from the azure +ether came the wind, filling his chest with the vigour of the young +day.</p> + +<p>"The azure ether—yes, and more than that! Who that has seen it can +forget the wondrous beauty of the summer morning's sky? It is +blue—it is sapphire—it is like the eye of a lovely woman. A rich +purple shines through it; no painter ever approached the colour of +it, no Titian or other, none from the beginning. Not even the +golden flesh of Rubens' women, through the veins in whose limbs a +sunlight pulses in lieu of blood shining behind the tissues, can +equal the hues that glow behind the blue.</p> + +<p>"The East flamed out at last. Pencilled streaks of cloud high in +the dome shone red. An orange light rose up and spread about the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +horizon, then turned crimson, and the upper edge of the sun's disk +lifted itself over the hill. A swift beam of light shot like an +arrow towards him, and the hawthorn bush obeyed with instant +shadow; it passed beyond him over the green plain, up the ridge and +away. The great orb, quivering with golden flames, looked forth +upon the world."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The finest of all the papers written by Jefferies—as I have already +said—is that called "The Pageant of Summer." It came out in <i>Longman's +Magazine</i>. I know nothing in the English language finer, whether for the +sustained style or for the elevation of thought which fills it. Herein +Jefferies surpassed himself as well as all other writers who have +written upon Nature. This is perhaps because he fills the "Pageant" +which he describes with human love and human regrets. Without the life +and presence of man, what is the beauty of Nature worth? I should like +to quote it all—nay, to those who have read it again and again, the +words live in the memory like the lines of Wordsworth's "Ode to +Immor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>tality," and like them they fill the heart with tenderness and the +eyes with tears. It is published in the last but one of his books, "The +Life of the Fields," which everybody should make haste to possess, if +only for this one paper. It opens quietly—with the rushes:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Green rushes, long and thick, standing up above the edge of the +ditch, told the hour of the year as distinctly as the shadow on the +dial the hour of the day. Green and thick and sappy to the touch, +they felt like summer, soft and elastic, as if full of life, mere +rushes though they were. On the fingers they left a green scent; +rushes have a separate scent of green, so, too, have ferns, very +different to that of grass or leaves. Rising from brown sheaths, +the tall stems enlarged a little in the middle, like classical +columns, and heavy with their sap and freshness, leaned against the +hawthorn sprays. From the earth they had drawn its moisture, and +made the ditch dry; some of the sweetness of the air had entered +into their fibres, and the rushes—the common rushes—were full of +beautiful summer. The white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> pollen of early grasses growing on the +edge was dusted from them each time the hawthorn boughs were shaken +by a thrush. These lower sprays came down in among the grass, and +leaves and grass-blades touched.</p> + +<p>"It was between the May and the June roses. The may-bloom had +fallen, and among the hawthorn boughs were the little green bunches +that would feed the redwings in autumn. High up the briars had +climbed, straight and towering while there was a thorn, or an ash +sapling, or a yellow-green willow to uphold them, and then curving +over towards the meadow. The buds were on them, but not yet open; +it was between the may and the rose.</p> + +<p>"As the wind, wandering over the sea, takes from each wave an +invisible portion, and brings to those on shore the ethereal +essence of ocean, so the air lingering among the woods and +hedges—green waves and billows—became full of fine atoms of +summer. Swept from notched hawthorn-leaves, broad-topped +oak-leaves, narrow ash sprays and oval willows; from vast elm +cliffs and sharp-taloned brambles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> under; brushed from the waving +grasses and stiffening corn, the dust of the sunshine was borne +along and breathed. Steeped in flower and pollen to the music of +bees and birds, the stream of the atmosphere became a living thing. +It was life to breathe it, for the air itself was life. The +strength of the earth went up through the leaves into the wind. Fed +thus on the food of the Immortals, the heart opened to the width +and depth of the summer—to the broad horizon afar, down to the +minutest creature in the grass, up to the highest swallow. Winter +shows us Matter in its dead form, like the primary rocks, like +granite and basalt—clear but cold and frozen crystal. Summer shows +us Matter changing into life, sap rising from the earth through a +million tubes, the alchemic power of light entering the solid oak; +and see! it bursts forth in countless leaves. Living things leap in +the grass, living things drift upon the air, living things are +coming forth to breathe in every hawthorn bush. No longer does the +immense weight of Matter—the dead, the crystallized—press +ponderously on the think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>ing mind. The whole office of Matter is to +feed life—to feed the green rushes, and the roses that are about +to be; to feed the swallows above, and us that wander beneath them. +So much greater is this green and common rush than all the Alps.</p> + +<p>"Fanning so swiftly, the wasp's wings are but just visible as he +passes; did he pause, the light would be apparent through their +texture. On the wings of the dragon-fly as he hovers an instant +before he darts there is a prismatic gleam. These wing textures are +even more delicate than the minute filaments on a swallow's quill, +more delicate than the pollen of a flower. They are formed of +matter indeed, but how exquisitely it is resolved into the means +and organs of life! Though not often consciously recognised, +perhaps this is the great pleasure of summer, to watch the earth, +the dead particles, resolving themselves into the living case of +life, to see the seed-leaf push aside the clod and become by +degrees the perfumed flower. From the tiny mottled egg come the +wings that by-and-by shall pass the immense sea. It is in this +marvellous trans<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>formation of clods and cold matter into living +things that the joy and the hope of summer reside. Every blade of +grass, each leaf, each separate floret and petal, is an inscription +speaking of hope. Consider the grasses and the oaks, the swallows, +the sweet blue butterfly—they are one and all a sign and token +showing before our eyes earth made into life. So that my hope +becomes as broad as the horizon afar, reiterated by every leaf, +sung on every bough, reflected in the gleam of every flower. There +is so much for us yet to come, so much to be gathered, and enjoyed. +Not for you or me, now, but for our race, who will ultimately use +this magical secret for their happiness. Earth holds secrets enough +to give them the life of the fabled Immortals. My heart is fixed +firm and stable in the belief that ultimately the sunshine and the +summer, the flowers and the azure sky, shall become, as it were, +interwoven into man's existence. He shall take from all their +beauty and enjoy their glory. Hence it is that a flower is to me so +much more than stalk and petals. When I look in the glass I see +that every line in my face means pessimism;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> but in spite of my +face—that is my experience—I remain an optimist. Time with an +unsteady hand has etched thin crooked lines, and, deepening the +hollows, has cast the original expression into shadow. Pain and +sorrow flow over us with little ceasing, as the sea-hoofs beat on +the beach. Let us not look at ourselves but onwards, and take +strength from the leaf and the signs of the field. He is indeed +despicable who cannot look onwards to the ideal life of man. Not to +do so is to deny our birthright of mind....</p> + +<p>"It is the patient humble-bee that goes down into the forest of the +mowing-grass. If entangled, the humble-bee climbs up a sorrel stem +and takes wing, without any sign of annoyance. His broad back with +tawny bar buoyantly glides over the golden buttercups. He hums to +himself as he goes, so happy is he. He knows no skep, no cunning +work in glass receives his labour, no artificial saccharine aids +him when the beams of the sun are cold, there is no step to his +house that he may alight in comfort; the way is not made clear for +him that he may start straight for the flowers, nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> are any sown +for him. He has no shelter if the storm descends suddenly; he has +no dome of twisted straw well thatched and tiled to retreat to. The +butcher-bird, with a beak like a crooked iron nail, drives him to +the ground, and leaves him pierced with a thorn; but no hail of +shot revenges his tortures. The grass stiffens at nightfall (in +autumn) and he must creep where he may, if possibly he may escape +the frost. No one cares for the humble-bee. But down to the +flowering nettle in the mossy-sided ditch, up into the tall elm, +winding in and out and round the branched buttercups, along the +banks of the brook, far inside the deepest wood, away he wanders +and despises nothing. His nest is under the rough grasses and the +mosses of the mound, a mere tunnel beneath the fibres and matted +surface. The hawthorn overhangs it, the fern grows by, red mice +rustle past....</p> + +<p>"All the procession of living and growing things passes. The grass +stands up taller and still taller, the sheaths open, and the stalk +arises, the pollen clings till the breeze sweeps it. The bees rush +past, and the resolute<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> wasps; the humble-bees, whose weight swings +them along. About the oaks and maples the brown chafers swarm, and +the fern-owls at dusk, and the blackbirds and jays by day, cannot +reduce their legions while they last. Yellow butterflies, and +white, broad red admirals, and sweet blues; think of the kingdom of +flowers which is theirs! Heavy moths burring at the edge of the +copse; green, and red, and gold flies: gnats, like smoke, around +the tree-tops; midges so thick over the brook, as if you could haul +a netful; tiny leaping creatures in the grass; bronze beetles +across the path; blue dragonflies pondering on cool leaves of +water-plantain. Blue jays flitting, a magpie drooping across from +elm to elm; young rooks that have escaped the hostile shot +blundering up into the branches; missel thrushes leading their +fledglings, already strong on the wing, from field to field. An egg +here on the sward dropped by a starling; a red ladybird creeping, +tortoise-like, up a green fern frond. Finches undulating through +the air, shooting themselves with closed wings, and linnets happy +with their young....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Straight go the white petals to the heart; straight the mind's +glance goes back to how many other pageants of summer in old times! +When perchance the sunny days were even more sunny; when the stilly +oaks were full of mystery, lurking like the Druid's mistletoe in +the midst of their mighty branches. A glamour in the heart came +back to it again from every flower; as the sunshine was reflected +from them, so the feeling in the heart returned tenfold. To the +dreamy summer haze love gave a deep enchantment, the colours were +fairer, the blue more lovely in the lucid sky. Each leaf finer, and +the gross earth enamelled beneath the feet. A sweet breath on the +air, a soft warm hand in the touch of the sunshine, a glance in the +gleam of the rippled waters, a whisper in the dance of the shadows. +The ethereal haze lifted the heavy oaks and they were buoyant on +the mead, the rugged bark was chastened and no longer rough, each +slender flower beneath them again refined. There was a presence +everywhere though unseen, on the open hills, and not shut out under +the dark pines. Dear were the June<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> roses then because for another +gathered. Yet even dearer now with so many years as it were upon +the petals; all the days that have been before, all the +heart-throbs, all our hopes lie in this opened bud. Let not the +eyes grow dim, look not back but forward; the soul must uphold +itself like the sun. Let us labour to make the heart grow larger as +we become older, as the spreading oak gives more shelter. That we +could but take to the soul some of the greatness and the beauty of +the summer!</p> + +<p>"I cannot leave it; I must stay under the old tree in the midst of +the long grass, the luxury of the leaves, and the song in the very +air. I seem as if I could feel all the glowing life the sunshine +gives and the south wind calls to being. The endless grass, the +endless leaves, the immense strength of the oak expanding, the +unalloyed joy of finch and blackbird; from all of them I receive a +little. Each gives me something of the pure joy they gather for +themselves. In the blackbird's melody one note is mine; in the +dance of the leaf shadows the formed maze is for me, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> the +motion is theirs; the flowers with a thousand faces have collected +the kisses of the morning. Feeling with them, I receive some, at +least, of their fulness of life. Never could I have enough; never +stay long enough—whether here or whether lying on the shorter +sward under the sweeping and graceful birches, or on the +thyme-scented hills. Hour after hour, and still not enough. Or +walking the footpath was never long enough, or my strength +sufficient to endure till the mind was weary. The exceeding beauty +of the earth, in her splendour of life, yields a new thought with +every petal. The hours when the mind is absorbed by beauty are the +only hours when we really live, so that the longer we can stay +among these things so much the more is snatched from inevitable +Time. Let the shadow advance upon the dial—I can watch it with +equanimity while it is there to be watched. It is only when the +shadow is <i>not</i> there, when the clouds of winter cover it, that the +dial is terrible. The invisible shadow goes on and steals from us. +But now, while I can see the shadow of the tree and watch it +slowly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> gliding along the surface of the grass, it is mine. These +are the only hours that are not wasted—these hours that absorb the +soul and fill it with beauty. This is real life, and all else is +illusion, or mere endurance. Does this reverie of flowers and +waterfall and song form an ideal, a human ideal, in the mind? It +does; much the same ideal that Phidias sculptured of man and woman +filled with a godlike sense of the violet fields of Greece, +beautiful beyond thought, calm as my turtle-dove before the lurid +lightning of the unknown. To be beautiful and to be calm, without +mental fear, is the ideal of nature. If I cannot achieve it, at +least I can think it."</p></blockquote> + +<p>May we not say indeed, that never any man has heretofore spoken of +Nature as this man speaks? He has given new colours to the field and +hedge; he has filled them with a beauty which we never thought to find +there; he has shown in them more riches, more variety, more fulness, +more wisdom, more Divine order than we common men ever looked for or +dreamed of. He has taught us to look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> around us with new eyes; he has +removed our blindness; it is a new world that he has given to us. What, +what shall we say—what can we say—to show our gratitude towards one +who has conferred these wonderful gifts upon his fellow-men?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>"THE STORY OF MY HEART."</h3> + + +<p>In the history of literature one happens, from time to time, upon a book +which has been written because the author had no choice but to write it. +He was compelled by hidden forces to write it. There was no rest for +him, day or night, so soon as the book was complete in his mind, until +he sat down to write it. And then he wrote it at a white heat. For +eighteen years, Jefferies says, he pondered over this book—he means, +that he brooded over these and cognate subjects from the time of +adolescence. At last his mind was full, and then—but not till then—he +wrote it.</p> + +<p>Those who have not read it must understand at the outset that it is the +book of one who dares to question for himself on the most im<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>portant +subject which can occupy the mind. To some men—very young men +especially—it seems an easy thing to question and to go on following +the questions to their logical end. An older man knows better; he has +learned, perhaps by his own experience, that to carry on unto the end +such an inquiry, fearless of whither it may lead, is an act requiring +very great courage, clearness and strength of mind, and carelessness of +other men's opinion. It is, in fact, an act which to begin and to carry +through is beyond the courage and the mental powers of most. I do not +mean the so-called intellectual process gone through by every young man +who takes up the common carping and girding at received forms of +religion, and boldly declares among an admiring circle that he renounces +them all—I mean a long, patient, and wholly reverent inquiry by +whatever line or lines may be possible to a man. For it must not be +forgotten that, though there are many lines of independent research and +inquiry, there are few men to whom even one is actually possible. This, +however, we do not openly acknowledge; every person, how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>ever illiterate +and untrained, considers himself, not only free, but also qualified, to +be an advocate, or an opponent, of religion. Freedom of thought is so +great a thing that one would not have it otherwise. As for the lines of +inquiry, scientific men, of whom there are few, apply scientific methods +to certain books held sacred by the Church, with whatever results may +happen; some scientific men, after this research, find that they can +remain Christians, others resigning, at least, the orthodox form of that +faith. Scholars of language, mythology, Oriental antiquities, of whom +also there are comparatively few, may approach the subject by these +lines. Others, like the late Mr. Cotter Morison, the like of whom are +rare, may consider the subject in relation to the history, development, +and proved effect of certain doctrines upon humanity. Others, again, +assuming that the pretensions of priests essentially belong to the +Christian religion, may compare these pretensions with those of other +and older religions. Again, the difficulty or impossibility of +reconciling statements in so-called inspired works,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> the incongruity of +ancient Oriental customs as compared with modern and European +ideas—these and many other points, all of which require a scholar to +deal with them, may furnish lines of investigation. But, indeed, the +modes of attack may be indefinitely varied. On all sides, doctrinal +religion has been, and is daily, attacked; at all points it has been, +and is daily, defended to the full satisfaction of the defenders. The +assailants can never perceive that they are beaten off at every point; +the defenders can never be made to understand that their stronghold has +been utterly demolished.</p> + +<p>The Religious Problem at the present moment has been, in fact, so far +advanced that research, defence, or attack by persons not qualified by +special education in one or other of these lines is absolutely futile. +For the greater number, dulness of perception, ignorance, want of early +training, self-conceit, and that sheer incapacity either to perceive or +to tell the truth which seems to be a special firmity of the age, make +research impossible, attack futile, and defence powerless. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> even for +those who seem to have the right to lead, the fact that we are born into +the ideas of our time, as well as into its creeds and traditions, is a +dire obstacle to clearness of vision. We are surrounded, from birth +upwards, by a network of ideas, many false, many conventional, many mere +prejudices. But, such as they are, they tear the flesh if we try to +break through them; by reason of these bonds we cannot march straight, +we cannot see clearly. Education, reading, the literature, and the +common talk of the day, so far from helping us, seem only to raise up +thicker clouds about us which we cannot disperse, neither can we pass +through them.</p> + +<p>Does, then, this act of superlative courage, demanded by fearless +inquiry, always lead the man who has achieved it towards atheism or +agnosticism? Not so. The history of the Churches shows that there have +been many men who have embarked upon such an inquiry honestly and +boldly, and have come out of it armed and strengthened with a natural +religion upon which they have been able to graft a Christianity far +deeper, stronger, and more real<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> than that which is commonly taught in +the pulpits, the schools, the catechisms, and the litanies of the +Churches. But, as we said before, such an inquiry is not possible for +every man.</p> + +<p>In Jefferies' "Story of My Heart" we have a tale half told. You may read +in it, if you will, the abandonment, rather than the loss, of his early +faith; you cannot read in it, but you shall hear, if you persist to the +end of this volume, how he found it again. But the man who has once +thrown off the old yoke of Authority can never put it on again. +Henceforth he stands alone, yet not alone, for he is face to face with +his God.</p> + +<p>Again, the network of custom and tradition which lies around us contains +all our friends as well as ourselves. Those who are unlucky (or lucky) +enough to break through and to get outside it have to separate +themselves from their friends; they have to find new friends—which is +difficult—new companions, at least. And then the novel position is a +kind of standing challenge to old friends. The old equality is gone, +because, if the new philosopher is right, he is intellectually<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> far +above his associates. And since friendship cannot endure the loss of +equality, the ties of years are severed. Instead of the warmth of +friendship, one feels, with the coldness, the reproach of isolation. +This is a consideration, however, which would weigh little with +Jefferies, who lived, of free choice, in isolation.</p> + +<p>Again, many men find a sufficient support on the great questions of +faith—which they seldom or never formulate to themselves—in the fact +that certain men, whom they very deeply venerate, believe in certain +doctrines. That such a man as Dean Stanley, for instance—a scholar, a +man of unblemished life, whose purity of soul and natural nobility of +character lifted him high above the average of man—was also a devout +Christian, and a pillar of the Church of England, has been, and is +still, a solid guarantee to thousands who remember his example that the +religion which was able to light his feet through the valley of death, +and to sustain his heart while life was ebbing, must be true. This is a +kindly and a natural aid to faith. And it is another illus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>tration of +the immense, the boundless influence of example. The mediæval scholar +believed in the Christian religion because even the horrible scandals of +Rome could not destroy it. The modern Churchman modestly and humbly +believes his creed mainly because men very greatly his superiors in +learning and in elevation of soul believe it, and find in it their +greatest consolation, and their only hope. Jefferies had no such +reverence. The great leaders of the Church came not to the Wiltshire +Downs. His own reason should suffice for himself. Was he, therefore, +presumptuous? While any rags of Protestant independence and freedom of +thought yet linger among us, let us, a thousand times, say, No!</p> + +<p>Other men, as is well known, take refuge in Authority. This seems so +easy as to be elementary in its simplicity. Authority does not interfere +with the practical business of life, with the getting as much wealth as +we can, and as much enjoyment as we can, while life lasts. And after +death Authority kindly assures us that all shall be done for us to +ensure ultimate enjoyment of more good things. We cannot,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> certainly, +all seek into the origins and causes of things; some must listen and +obey. There is the Authority of example; there is also the Authority of +Church rule and discipline. But Jefferies was one of those who cannot +listen and obey.</p> + +<p>Most books which deal with the difficulties and the loss of faith deal +also largely at the outset with the bitterness and the agonies of the +soul when doubt begins; with the long discussions based upon premises +which are first questioned tentatively, and then wholly denied; with the +consequent estrangement of friends; with the laying down of one set of +shackles in order to take up another, as when a man, after infinite +heart-searchings, exchanges one little sect for another.</p> + +<p>Others, again, who think it necessary to put aside their religion, do so +with a curious rage. They vehemently despise, and have no words too +strong for their contempt of those who refuse to follow them. As for the +doctrines themselves, they are—these renegades cry aloud—unworthy the +consideration of any who have the least pretensions to intellect.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +Everybody knows this kind. The pervert—the renegade—is the fiercest of +persecutors, the most intolerant in practice. The bitterness in his mind +is caused, or it is increased, by the galling fact that though he is a +rebel, he is always, whatever sect he has abandoned, an unsuccessful +rebel. His old king yet reigneth; he cannot dethrone that king; it is +impossible for him; at the most he can but seduce from their allegiance +a few, and for all his railing the loyal subjects of that king remain +loyal.</p> + +<p>Jefferies, for his part, has no agonies of soul to chronicle, nor does +he watch for and set down the stages of unbelief, nor does he tell us of +any arguments with friends. The local curate is never considered or +consulted; friends are neglected; and he is not in the least degree +angry with those who remain loyal to their old religion.</p> + +<p>In point of fact, this remarkable book never mentions the old religion +at all. This is a very singular—even an unique—method of treatment. +There is no question of the common lines of research: not one of them is +followed. The author begins, and he goes on,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> with the assumption that +there is no religion at all which need be considered. On the broad downs +the only bell ever heard is the distant sheep-bell, the only hymn of +praise is the song of the lark. He has wandered among these lonely hills +until he has forgotten the village church and all that he was taught +there. Everything has clean escaped his memory. It is not that the old +teaching no longer guides his conduct; the old teaching no longer lives +at all in his mind.</p> + +<p>He has communed so much with Nature that he is intoxicated with her +fulness and her beauty. Nothing else seems worth thinking of. He lies +upon the turf and feels the embrace of the great round world.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I used to lie down in solitary corners at full length on my back, +so as to feel the embrace of the earth. The grass stood high above +me, and the shadows of the tree-branches danced on my face. I +looked up at the sky, with half-closed eyes to bear the dazzling +light. Bees buzzed over, sometimes a butterfly passed, there was a +hum in the air, greenfinches sang in the hedge. Gradually entering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +into the intense life of the summer days—a life which burned +around as if every grass-blade and leaf were a torch—I came to +feel the long-drawn life of the earth back into the dimmest past, +while the sun of the moment was warm on me.... This sunlight linked +me through the ages to that past consciousness."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Again, he says that, wandering alone, he spoke in his soul to the earth, +the sun, the air, and the distant sea far beyond sight:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I thought of the earth's firmness—I felt it bear me up; through +the grassy couch there came an influence as if I could feel the +great earth speaking to me. I thought of the wandering air—its +pureness, which is its beauty; the air touched me and gave me +something of itself. I spoke to the sea, though so far, in my mind +I saw it, green at the rim of the earth and blue in deeper ocean; I +desired to have its strength, its mystery and glory."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Everything is so full of life, everything around him, the grass-blades, +the flowers, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> leaves, the grasshoppers, the birds; all the air is so +full of life that he himself seems to live more largely only by being +conscious of this multitudinous life. And at length he prays. He prays +for a deeper and a fuller soul, that he may take from all something of +their grandeur, beauty, and energy, and gather it to himself. In +answer—let us think—to this prayer there was granted unto him a +Vision. To every man who truly meditates and prays, there comes in the +end a Vision—a Vision of a Flying Roll; a Vision of Four Chariots; a +Vision of a Basket of Summer Fruit. To this man came the Vision, rarely +granted, of the infinite possibilities in man. He saw how much greater +and grander he might become, how his senses might be intensified, how +his frame might be perfected, how his soul might become fuller. Morning, +noon, and night he sees this Vision, and he prays continually for that +increased fulness of soul which is the chief splendour of his Vision.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Sometimes I went to a deep, narrow valley in the hills, silent and +solitary. The sky<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> crossed from side to side, like a roof supported +on two walls of green. Sparrows chirped in the wheat at the verge +above, their calls falling like the twittering of swallows from the +air. There was no other sound. The short grass was dried gray as it +grew by the heat; the sun hung over the narrow vale as if it had +been put there by hand. Burning, burning, the sun glowed on the +sward at the foot of the slope where these thoughts burned into me. +How many, many years, how many cycles of years, how many bundles of +cycles of years, had the sun glowed down thus on that hollow? Since +it was formed how long? Since it was worn and shaped, groove-like, +in the flanks of the hills by mighty forces which had ebbed. Alone +with the sun which glowed on the work when it was done, I saw back +through space to the old time of tree-ferns, of the lizard flying +through the air, the lizard-dragon wallowing in sea foam, the +mountainous creatures, twice elephantine, feeding on land; all the +crooked sequence of life. The dragon-fly which passed me traced a +continuous descent from the fly marked on stone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> in those days. The +immense time lifted me like a wave rolling under a boat; my mind +seemed to raise itself as the swell of the cycles came; it felt +strong with the power of the ages. With all that time and power I +prayed: that I might have in my soul the intellectual part of it; +the idea, the thought. Like a shuttle the mind shot to and fro the +past and the present, in an instant.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Full to the brim of the wondrous past, I felt the wondrous +present. For the day—the very moment I breathed, that second of +time then in the valley, was as marvellous, as grand, as all that +had gone before. Now, this moment, was the wonder and the glory. +Now, this moment, was exceedingly wonderful. Now, this moment, give +me all the thought, all the idea, all the soul expressed in the +cosmos around me. Give me still more, for the interminable +universe, past and present, is but earth; give me the unknown soul, +wholly apart from it, the soul of which I know only that when I +touch the ground, when the sunlight touches<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> my hand, it is not +there. Therefore the heart looks into space to be away from earth. +With all the cycles, and the sunlight streaming through them, with +all that is meant by the present, I thought in the deep vale and +prayed."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Presently, the vague yearning—this passionate prayer for the +realization of a splendid Vision—takes a more definite shape:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"First, I desired that I might do or find something to exalt the +soul, something to enable it to live its own life, a more powerful +existence now. Secondly, I desired to be able to do something for +the flesh, to make a discovery or perfect a method by which the +fleshly body might enjoy more pleasure, longer life, and suffer +less pain. Thirdly, to construct a more flexible engine with which +to carry into execution the design of the will."</p></blockquote> + +<p>As for the soul, his prayer was for the life beyond this.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Recognising my own inner consciousness, the psyche, so clearly, +death did not seem to me to affect the personality. In dissolution<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +there was no bridgeless chasm, no unfathomable gulf of separation; +the spirit did not immediately become inaccessible, leaping at a +bound to an immeasurable distance. Look at another person while +living; the soul is not visible, only the body which it animates. +Therefore, merely because after death the soul is not visible is no +demonstration that it does not still live. The condition of being +unseen is the same condition which occurs while the body is living, +so that intrinsically there is nothing exceptional, or +supernatural, in the life of the soul after death. Resting by the +tumulus, the spirit of the man who had been interred there was to +me really alive, and very close. This was quite natural, as natural +and simple as the grass waving in the wind, the bees humming, and +the larks' songs. Only by the strongest effort of the mind could I +understand the idea of extinction; that was supernatural, requiring +a miracle; the immortality of the soul natural, like earth. +Listening to the sighing of the grass I felt immortality as I felt +the beauty of the summer morning."</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<p>Three things, he says, were found twelve thousand years ago by +prehistoric man: the existence of the soul, immortality, the Deity. +Since then, nothing further has been found. Well, he would find +something more. What is it he would find? It can only be discovered by +one who has that fulness of the soul for which he prays.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"As I write these words, in the very moment, I feel that the whole +air, the sunshine out yonder lighting up the ploughed earth, the +distant sky, the circumambient ether, and that far space, is full +of soul-secrets, soul-life, things outside the experience of all +the ages. The fact of my own existence as I write, as I exist at +this second, is so marvellous, so miracle-like, strange, and +supernatural to me, that I unhesitatingly conclude I am always on +the margin of life illimitable, and that there are higher +conditions than existence. Everything around is supernatural; +everything so full of unexplained meaning."</p></blockquote> + +<p>It is only by the soul that one lives. As<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> for Nature, everything in her +is anti-human. Nothing in Nature cares for man. The earth would let him +perish, and would not trouble, for his sake, to bring forth food or +water. The sun would scorch and burn him. He cannot drink the sea. The +wild creatures would mangle and slay him. Diseases would rack him. The +very things which most he loves live for themselves, and not for him. If +all mankind were to die to-morrow, Nature would still go on, careless of +his fate. There is no spirit, no intelligence in Nature. And in the +events of human life, everything, he says, happens by pure chance. No +prudence in conduct, no wisdom or foresight, can effect anything. The +most trivial circumstance—the smallest accident is sufficient to upset +the deepest plan of the wisest mind. All things happen by chance. This, +then, is the melancholy outcome of all his passionate love of Nature. It +is to this conclusion that he has been brought by his solitary communion +with Nature. Man is quite alone, he says, without help and without hope +of guidance. The Deity—but, then, what does he mean by a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> Deity? He +means, I think, only the popular and vulgar conception—suffers +everything to take place by chance. Yet there is, there must be, because +he feels it and sees it, something higher and beyond. "For want of words +I write soul."</p> + +<p>The book is full of this Vision of the Life beyond the present; he +tries, but sometimes in vain, to clothe his Vision with words. It never +leaves him. It is with him in the heart of London, where the tides of +life converge to the broad area before the Royal Exchange. If he goes to +see the pictures in the National Gallery, it is with him. If he looks at +the old sculpture in the Museum, it is still with him. Always the dream +of the perfect man superior to death and to change; perfect in physical +beauty, perfect in mind.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I went down to the sea. I stood where the foam came to my feet, +and looked out over the sunlit waters. The great earth bearing the +richness of the harvest, and its hills golden with corn, was at my +back; its strength and firmness under me. The great sun shone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +above, the wide sea was before me, the wind came sweet and strong +from the waves. The life of the earth and the sea, the glow of the +sun filled me; I touched the surge with my hand, I lifted my face +to the sun, I opened my lips to the wind. I prayed aloud in the +roar of the waves—my soul was strong as the sea and prayed with +the sea's might. 'Give me fulness of life like to the sea and the +sun, to the earth and the air; give me fulness of physical life, +mind equal and beyond their fulness; give me a greatness and +perfection of soul higher than all things, give me my inexpressible +desire which swells in me like a tide, give it to me with all the +force of the sea.'</p> + +<p>"Then I rested, sitting by the wheat; the bank of beach was between +me and the sea, but the waves beat against it; the sea was there, +the sea was present and at hand. By the dry wheat I rested; I did +not think; I was inhaling the richness of the sea; all the strength +and depth of meaning of the sea and earth came to me again. I +rubbed out some of the wheat in my hands, I took up a piece of clod +and crumbled it in my fingers—it was a joy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> to touch it—I held my +hand so that I could see the sunlight gleam on the slightly moist +surface of the skin. The earth and sun were to me like my flesh and +blood, and the air of the sea life.</p> + +<p>"With all the greater existence I drew from them I prayed for a +bodily life equal to it, for a soul-life beyond my thought, for my +inexpressible desire of more than I could shape even into idea. +There was something higher than idea, invisible to thought as air +to the eye; give me bodily life equal in fulness to the strength of +earth, and sun, and sea; give me the soul-life of my desire. Once +more I went down to the sea, touched it, and said farewell. So deep +was the inhalation of this life that day, that it seemed to remain +in me for years. This was a real pilgrimage."</p></blockquote> + +<p>There is much more—a great deal more—in this remarkable book; but what +follows is mostly an amplification of what has gone before. He dwells +upon the striving after physical perfection, the sacred duty of every +man and woman to enrich and strengthen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> their physical life, by care, +exercise, and in every possible way.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I believe all manner of asceticism to be the vilest +blasphemy—blasphemy towards the whole of the human race. I believe +in the flesh and the body, which is worthy of worship—to see a +perfect human body unveiled causes a sense of worship. The ascetics +are the only persons who are impure. Increase of physical beauty is +attended by increase of soul beauty. The soul is the higher even by +gazing on beauty. Let me be fleshly perfect."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Do not misunderstand him. This intense craving after physical +perfection, this yearning after beauty, is not a sensual craving. It is +not the Greek's love of perfect form, though Jefferies had this love, as +well. It is far more than this; it means, in the mind of this man, that +without perfection of the body there can be no perfect life of the soul.</p> + +<p>In that letter where the Apostle Paul speaks at length of Death and the +Resurrection, he concludes with the assurance—he writes for his own +consolation, I think, as well as that of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> disciples—that the body, +as well as the soul, shall live again; but the body glorified, made +perfect and beautiful beyond human power of thought, to be wedded to the +soul purified beyond human power of understanding. Is it not strange +that this solitary questioner, longing and praying for a deeper and +fuller understanding—a fuller soul—should also have arrived at the +perception of the wonderful truth that the perfect soul demands the +perfect body? In his mind there are no echoes ringing of Paul's great +Vision—the whole of his old creed, all of it, has fallen from him and +is lost: it is his own Vision granted to himself. How? After long and +solitary meditation on the hillside, as in the old times great Visions +came to those who fasted in their lonely cells and solitary caves. Great +thoughts come not to those who seek them not. The mind which would +receive them must be first prepared. The example of Jefferies, whose +great thoughts only came to him after long years of meditation apart +from man, may make us understand the Visions which used to reward the +monk, the fakir, the hermit of the lonely laura.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then he goes back to his theory that everything happens by chance. So +long as men believe that everything is done for them, progress is +impossible. Once grasp the truth that nothing is done for man, and that +he has everything to do for himself, and all is possible. Still, this is +not a proof that chance rules the world. And, again, the fact that man, +alone of created beings, is able to grasp this, or any other truth, is +not that gift everything in itself?</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Nothing whatsoever is done for us. We are born naked, and not even +protected by a shaggy covering. Nothing is done for us. The first +and strongest command (using the word to convey the idea only) that +nature, the universe, our own bodies give is to do everything for +ourselves. The sea does not make boats for us, nor the earth of her +own will build us hospitals. The injured lie bleeding, and no +invisible power lifts them up. The maidens were scorched in the +midst of their devotions, and their remains make a mound hundreds +of yards long. The infants perished in the snow, and the ravens +tore their limbs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> Those in the theatre crushed each other to the +death-agony. For how long, for how many thousand years, must the +earth and the sea, and the fire and the air, utter these things and +force them upon us before they are admitted in their full +significance?</p> + +<p>"These things speak with a voice of thunder. From every human being +whose body has been racked by pain, from every human being who has +suffered from accident or disease, from every human being drowned, +burned, or slain by negligence, there goes up a +continually-increasing cry louder than the thunder. An +awe-inspiring cry dread to listen to, which no one dares listen to, +against which ears are stopped by the wax of superstition, and the +wax of criminal selfishness:—These miseries are your doing, +because you have mind and thought, and could have prevented them. +You can prevent them in the future. You do not even try.</p> + +<p>"It is perfectly certain that all diseases without exception are +preventible, or if not so, that they can be so weakened as to do no +harm. It is perfectly certain that all accidents are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> preventible; +there is not one that does not arise from folly or negligence. All +accidents are crimes. It is perfectly certain that all human beings +are capable of physical happiness. It is absolutely +incontrovertible that the ideal shape of the human being is +attainable to the exclusion of deformities. It is incontrovertible +that there is no necessity for any man to die but of old age, and +that if death cannot be prevented life can be prolonged far beyond +the farthest now known. It is incontrovertible that at the present +time no one ever dies of old age. Not one single person ever dies +of old age, or of natural causes, for there is no such thing as a +natural cause of death. They die of disease or weakness which is +the result of disease, either in themselves or in their ancestors. +No such thing as old age is known to us. We do not even know what +old age would be like, because no one ever lives to it."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This remarkable book is a record almost, if not quite, unique. The +writer is not a man of science; he has not been trained in logic and +dialectics, he is not a scholar, though he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> has read much. But he can +think for himself, and he has the gift of carrying on the same line of +thought unwearied, persistent, like a bloodhound on the scent, year +after year. And as a record it is absolutely true; there are no +concealments in it, no affectations; it is all true. He has gone to +Nature—the Nature he loves so well—for an answer to the problems that +vex his soul. Nature replies with a stony stare; she has no answer. What +is man? She cares nothing for man. Everything, so far as she knows, and +so far as man is concerned, takes place by chance. Then he gets his +Vision of the Perfect Soul, and it fills his heart and makes him happy, +and seems to satisfy all his longings. And the old Christian teaching, +the prayer to the Father, the village church and its services, the quiet +churchyard—where are they? Out on the wild downs you do not see or hear +of them at all. They are not in the whisper of the air, or in the rustle +of the grass-blades; they are not in the sunshine; they are not in the +cloud; they are not in the depths of the azure sky.</p> + +<p>And so he concludes:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>"I have only just commenced to realize the immensity of thought +which lies outside the knowledge of the senses. Still, on the hills +and by the sea-shore, I seek and pray deeper than ever. The sun +burns southwards over the sea and before the wave runs its shadow, +constantly slipping on the advancing slope till it curls and covers +its dark image at the shore. Over the rim of the horizon waves are +flowing as high and wide as those that break upon the beach. These +that come to me and beat the trembling shore are like the thoughts +that have been known so long; like the ancient, iterated, and +reiterated thoughts that have broken on the strand of mind for +thousands of years. Beyond and over the horizon I feel that there +are other waves of ideas unknown to me, flowing as the stream of +ocean flows. Knowledge of facts is limitless, they lie at my feet +innumerable like the countless pebbles; knowledge of thought so +circumscribed! Ever the same thoughts come that have been written +down centuries and centuries.</p> + +<p>"Let me launch forth and sail over the rim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> of the sea yonder, and +when another rim arises over that, and again and onwards into an +ever-widening ocean of idea and life. For with all the strength of +the wave, and its succeeding wave, the depth and race of the tide, +the clear definition of the sky; with all the subtle power of the +great sea, there rises an equal desire. Give me life strong and +full as the brimming ocean; give me thoughts wide as its plain; +give me a soul beyond these. Sweet is the bitter sea by the shore +where the faint blue pebbles are lapped by the green-gray wave, +where the wind-quivering foam is loath to leave the lashed stone. +Sweet is the bitter sea, and the clear green in which the gaze +seeks the soul, looking through the glass into itself. The sea +thinks for me as I listen and ponder: the sea thinks, and every +boom of the wave repeats my prayer.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I stay on the wet sands as the tide rises, listening to +the rush of the lines of foam in layer upon layer; the wash swells +and circles about my feet, I lave my hands in it, I lift a little +in my hollowed palm, I take the life of the sea to me. My soul +rising to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> the immensity utters its desire-prayer with all the +strength of the sea. Or, again, the full stream of ocean beats upon +the shore, and the rich wind feeds the heart, the sun burns +brightly;—the sense of soul-life burns in me like a torch.</p> + +<p>"Leaving the shore, I walk among the trees; a cloud passes, and the +sweet short rain comes mingled with sunbeams and flower-scented +air. The finches sing among the fresh green leaves of the beeches. +Beautiful it is, in summer days, to see the wheat wave, and the +long grass foam-flecked of flower yield and return to the wind. My +soul of itself always desires; these are to it as fresh food. I +have found in the hills another valley grooved in prehistoric +times, where, climbing to the top of the hollow, I can see the sea. +Down in the hollow I look up; the sky stretches over, the sun burns +as it seems but just above the hill, and the wind sweeps onward. As +the sky extends beyond the valley, so I know that there are ideas +beyond the valley of my thought; I know that there is something +infinitely higher than Deity. The great sun burning in the sky, +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> sea, the firm earth, all the stars of night are feeble—all, +all the cosmos is feeble; it is not strong enough to utter my +prayer-desire. My soul cannot reach to its full desire of prayer. I +need no earth, or sea, or sun to think my thought. If my +thought-part—the psyche—were entirely separated from the body, +and from the earth, I should of myself desire the same. In itself +my soul desires; my existence, my soul-existence is in itself my +prayer, and so long as it exists so long will it pray that I may +have the fullest soul-life."</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>THE CHILD WANDERS IN THE WOOD.</h3> + + +<p>There is a very delightful old story which used to be given to children, +though I have not seen it for a long time in the hands of any children. +It was called "The Story without an End." A child wandered among the +flowers, who talked to him. That is the whole story. There were coloured +pictures in it. The story began without a beginning, and it came to a +sudden stop without an ending.</p> + +<p>It is perhaps upon a reminiscence of this old story that Jefferies has +based nearly all his own. They are very delightful, especially the +shorter stories; but they seldom have any end. There is sometimes, but +not often, a story; there is generally only a succession of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +scenes—some delightful, all beautiful, and all original in the sense +that nobody except Jefferies could possibly have written any of them. +The child wanders. That is all. Some day, when the worth of this writer +is universally recognised, these scenes and stories will be detached +from the papers with which they are published, and issued in separate +form, as beautifully illustrated as the art of the next generation—this +will not take place for another generation—will allow.</p> + +<p>For instance, Guido—they called him Guido because they thought that in +childhood Guido the painter must have greatly resembled this boy—runs +along the grassy lane at the top of a bank between the fir-trees till he +comes to a wheat-field. Then he climbs down into this field, and sees +the most wonderful things: lovely azure corn-flowers—"curious flowers +with knobs surrounded with little blue flowers, like a lady's bonnet. +They were a beautiful blue, not like any other blue, not like the +violets in the garden, or the sky over the trees, or the geranium in the +grass, or the bird's-eyes by the path." Then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> he wanders on, starting a +rabbit, scaring a hawk, and listening to the birds. Presently he sits +down on the branch of an oak, with his feet dangling over a streamlet. +Then he remembers—children do remember things in the strangest +way—that if he wants to hear a story, or to talk with the grass, he +really must not try to catch the butterflies. So he touches the rushes +with his foot, and says, "Rush, rush, tell them I am here." Immediately +there follows a little wind, and the wheat swings to and fro, the +oak-leaves rustle, the rushes bow, and the shadows slip forwards and +back again. After this, of course, the nearest wheat-ear begins to talk. +Now the wheat has been so long growing for the use of man that it has +grown to love him. Think of that! And it pains the wheat to see so much +misery and needless labour among the people. Of course, we cannot expect +a wheat-ear to know that little boys do not understand the problems of +poverty and labour.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"'There is one thing we do not like, and that is, all the labour +and the misery. Why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> cannot your people have us without so much +labour, and why are so many of you unhappy? Why cannot they be all +happy with us as you are, dear? For hundreds and hundreds of years +now the wheat every year has been sorrowful for your people, and I +think we get more sorrowful every year about it, because, as I was +telling you just now, the flowers go, and the swallows go, the old, +old oaks go, and that oak will go, under the shade of which you are +lying, Guido; and if your people do not gather the flowers now, and +watch the swallows, and listen to the blackbirds whistling, as you +are listening now while I talk, then Guido, my love, they will +never pick any flowers, nor hear any birds' songs. They think they +will, they think that when they have toiled, and worked a long +time, almost all their lives, then they will come to the flowers, +and the birds, and be joyful in the sunshine. But no, it will not +be so, for then they will be old themselves, and their ears dull, +and their eyes dim, so that the birds will sound a great distance +off, and the flowers will not seem bright.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Of course, we know that the greatest part of your people cannot +help themselves, and must labour on like the reapers till their +ears are full of the dust of age. That only makes us more +sorrowful, and anxious that things should be different. I do not +suppose we should think about them had we not been in man's hand so +long that now we have got to feel with man. Every year makes it +more pitiful, because then there are more flowers gone, and added +to the vast numbers of those gone before, and never gathered, or +looked at, though they could have given so much pleasure. And all +the work and labour, and thinking, and reading, and learning that +your people do ends in nothing—not even one flower. We cannot +understand why it should be so. There are thousands of wheat-ears +in this field, more than you would know how to write down with your +pencil, though you have learned your tables, sir. Yet all of us +thinking, and talking, cannot understand why it is when we consider +how clever your people are, and how they bring ploughs, and +steam-engines, and put up wires along the roads to tell you things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +when you are miles away, and sometimes we are sown where we can +hear the hum, hum, all day of the children learning in the school. +The butterflies flutter over us, and the sun shines, and the doves +are very, very happy at their nest, but the children go on hum, hum +inside this house, and learn, learn. So we suppose you must be very +clever, and yet you cannot manage this. All your work is wasted, +and you labour in vain—you dare not leave it a minute.</p> + +<p>"'If you left it a minute it would all be gone; it does not mount +up and make a store, so that all of you could sit by it and be +happy. Directly you leave off you are hungry, and thirsty, and +miserable like the beggars that tramp along the dusty road here. +All the thousand years of labour since this field was first +ploughed have not stored up anything for you. It would not matter +about the work so much if you were only happy; the bees work every +year, but they are happy; the doves build a nest every year, but +they are very, very happy. We think it must be because you do not +come out to us and be with us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> and think more as we do. It is not +because your people have not got plenty to eat and drink—you have +as much as the bees. Why, just look at us! Look at the wheat that +grows all over the world; all the figures that were ever written in +pencil could not tell how much, it is such an immense quantity. Yet +your people starve and die of hunger every now and then, and we +have seen the wretched beggars tramping along the road. We have +known of times when there was a great pile of us, almost a hill +piled up; it was not in this country, it was in another warmer +country, and yet no one dared to touch it—they died at the bottom +of the hill of wheat. The earth is full of skeletons of people who +have died of hunger. They are dying now this minute in your big +cities, with nothing but stones all round them, stone walls and +stone streets; not jolly stones like those you threw in the water, +dear—hard, unkind stones that make them cold and let them die, +while we are growing here, millions of us, in the sunshine with the +butterflies floating over us. This makes us unhappy; I was very +unhappy this morning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> till you came running over and played with +us.</p> + +<p>"'It is not because there is not enough: it is because your people +are so short-sighted, so jealous and selfish, and so curiously +infatuated with things that are not so good as your old toys which +you have flung away and forgotten. And you teach the children hum, +hum, all day to care about such silly things, and to work for them, +and to look to them as the object of their lives. It is because you +do not share us among you without price or difference; because you +do not share the great earth among you fairly, without spite and +jealousy and avarice; because you will not agree; you silly, +foolish people to let all the flowers wither for a thousand years +while you keep each other at a distance, instead of agreeing and +sharing them! Is there something in you—as there is poison in the +nightshade, you know it, dear, your papa told you not to touch +it—is there a sort of poison in your people that works them up +into a hatred of one another? Why, then, do you not agree and have +all things, all the great earth can give you, just as we have the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +sunshine and the rain? How happy your people could be if they would +only agree! But you go on teaching even the little children to +follow the same silly objects, hum, hum, hum, all the day, and they +will grow up to hate each other, and to try which can get the most +round things—you have one in your pocket.'</p> + +<p>"'Sixpence,' said Guido. 'It's quite a new one.'</p> + +<p>"'And other things quite as silly,' the Wheat continued. 'All the +time the flowers are flowering, but they will go, even the oaks +will go. We think the reason you do not all have plenty, and why +you do not do only just a little work, and why you die of hunger if +you leave off, and why so many of you are unhappy in body and mind, +and all the misery is because you have not got a spirit like the +wheat, like us; you will not agree, and you will not share, and you +will hate each other, and you will be so avaricious, and you will +<i>not</i> touch the flowers, or go into the sunshine (you would rather +half of you died among the hard stones first), and you will teach +your children hum,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> hum, to follow in some foolish course that has +caused you all this unhappiness a thousand years, and you will +<i>not</i> have a spirit like us, and feel like us. Till you have a +spirit like us, and feel like us, you will never, never be happy.'"</p></blockquote> + +<p>Was not that a fine talk for the child to have with the wheat-ear? And +there is more of it, a great deal more in this story without an end +which you will find in the book called "The Open Air."</p> + +<p>Again, another boy—not Guido by any means, nor in the least like +Guido—had been sent to gather acorns. He gathered a few, dropped them +into his bag, and lay down in the warm corner by the root of the tree to +sleep. There his grandmother found him, and there she beat him.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"A wickeder boy never lived: nothing could be done with the +reprobate. He was her grandson—at least, the son of her daughter, +for he was not legitimate. The man drank, the girl died, as was +believed, of sheer starva<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>tion: the granny kept the child, and he +was now between ten and eleven years old. She had done and did her +duty, as she understood it. A prayer-meeting was held in her +cottage twice a week, she prayed herself aloud among them, she was +a leading member of the sect. Neither example, precept, nor the rod +could change that boy's heart. In time perhaps she got to beat him +from habit rather than from any particular anger of the moment, +just as she fetched water and filled her kettle, as one of the +ordinary events of the day. Why did not the father interfere? +Because if so he would have had to keep his son: so many shillings +a week the less for ale.</p> + +<p>"In the garden attached to the cottage there was a small shed with +a padlock, used to store produce or wood in. One morning, after a +severe beating, she drove the boy in there and locked him in the +whole day without food. It was no use, he was as hardened as ever.</p> + +<p>"A footpath which crossed the field went by the cottage, and every +Sunday those who were walking to church could see the boy in the +window with granny's Bible open before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> him. There he had to sit, +the door locked, under terror of stick, and study the page. What +was the use of compelling him to do that? He could not read. 'No,' +said the old woman, 'he won't read, but I makes him look at his +book.'</p> + +<p>"The thwacking went on for some time, when one day the boy was sent +on an errand two or three miles, and for a wonder started willingly +enough. At night he did not return, nor the next day, nor the next, +and it was as clear as possible that he had run away. No one +thought of tracking his footsteps, or following up the path he had +to take, which passed a railway, brooks, and a canal. He had run +away, and he might stop away: it was beautiful summer weather, and +it would do him no harm to stop out for a week. A dealer who had +business in a field by the canal thought indeed that he saw +something in the water, but he did not want any trouble, nor indeed +did he know that someone was missing. Most likely a dead dog; so he +turned his back and went to look again at the cow he thought of +buying. A barge came by, and the steerswoman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> with a pipe in her +mouth, saw something roll over and come up under the rudder: the +length of the barge having passed over it. She knew what it was, +but she wanted to reach the wharf and go ashore and have a quart of +ale. No use picking it up, only make a mess on deck, there was no +reward—'Gee-up! Neddy.' The barge went on, turning up the mud in +the shallow water, sending ripples washing up to the grassy meadow +shores, while the moorhens hid in the flags till it was gone. In +time a labourer walking on the towing-path saw 'it,' and fished it +out, and with it a slender ash sapling, with twine and hook, a worm +still on it. This was why the dead boy had gone so willingly, +thinking to fish in the 'river,' as he called the canal. When his +feet slipped and he fell in, his fishing-line somehow became +twisted about his arms and legs, else most likely he would have +scrambled out, as it was not very deep. This was the end; nor was +he even remembered. Does anyone sorrow for the rook, shot, and hung +up as a scarecrow? The boy had been talked to, and held up as a +scarecrow all his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> life: he was dead, and that is all. As for +granny, she felt no twinge: she had done her duty."</p></blockquote> + +<p>There is another chapter among these papers which is a real story. It +is, I am certain, a true story, because the plot is not at all in the +manner of Jefferies. It is called, grimly, "Field Play." The "Story of +Dolly" it should be called—of hapless Dolly—of Dolly the village +beauty. Would you like to see how Jefferies can describe a beautiful +woman?</p> + +<blockquote><p>"So fair a complexion could not brown even in summer, exposed to +the utmost heat. The beams indeed did heighten the hue of her +cheeks a little, but it did not shade to brown. Her chin and neck +were wholly untanned, white and soft, and the blue veins roamed at +their will. Lips red, a little full perhaps; teeth slightly +prominent, but white and gleamy as she smiled. Dark-brown hair in +no great abundance, always slipping out of its confinement and +straggling, now on her forehead, and now on her shoulders, like +wandering bines of bryony. The softest of brown eyes under long +eyelashes; eyes that seemed to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> everything in its gentlest +aspect, that could see no harm anywhere. A ready smile on the face, +and a smile in the form. Her shape yielded so easily at each +movement that it seemed to smile as she walked. Her nose was the +least pleasing feature—not delicate enough to fit with the +complexion, and distinctly upturned, though not offensively. But it +was not noticed; no one saw anything beyond the laughing lips, the +laughing shape, the eyes that melted so near to tears. The torn +dress, the straggling hair, the tattered shoes, the unmended +stocking, the straw hat split, the mingled poverty and +carelessness—perhaps rather dreaminess—disappeared when once you +had met the full untroubled gaze of those beautiful eyes. +Untroubled, that is, with any ulterior thought of evil or cunning; +they were as open as the day, the day which you can make your own +for evil or good. So, too, like the day, was she ready to the +making."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The miserable, hapless fate of poor Dolly, the horrible tragedy of her +life and death, is told with relentless truth and fidelity. In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> Arcadia +such things may happen, and, I suppose, do constantly happen. The story +belongs properly to the chapter on English country life last quarter of +the nineteenth century, which, when it is written, will, I think, be +taken altogether from the works of Jefferies and Thomas Hardy.</p> + +<p>"The Story of Bevis" is the story of Guido writ large. It is also the +story of Jefferies himself as a boy. Observe, most writers of fiction, +if they were proposing to write the story of a boy, would first create +an imaginary boy, and then surround him with imaginary adventures, +invented on purpose for that boy. Jefferies does nothing of the kind. It +is not his method. He remembers his own boyhood—the most delightful +part of it—when he played with his brother and his cousin upon the +shores of the lake behind the farmhouse, and made his canoe, and paddled +about the water exploring the creeks and islets, the bays and harbours +of that wonderful coast. The boy, Bevis, is, in fact, himself. +Therefore, he does all the things that Jefferies and his brother did in +their boyhood. Bevis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> even makes a raft, and, when the raft is made, he +sails down the Mississippi as far as Central Africa, where, of course, +he encounters savages, and has to fight them. To discover an unknown +island on such a voyage is an adventure certain to be met with. To build +a hut, to provision a cave, and to dwell for a while upon that island is +another adventure equally certain when one goes to Central Africa, and +there is no reason at all why such a story should ever have any end. +Consequently, there is none—only a full stop, and then a line with +"Finis" written under it. In fact, there never was such a book of boy's +make-believe. Observe, if you please, a thing which shows the real +genius of the writer. It is that you feel, all the time you are reading +the book, the village itself only a quarter of a mile from Central +Africa. The bailiff, and the dogs, and the village lads are always +coming across us in the midst of the Central African jungle in the most +natural and absurd way. For boys, as Jefferies remembered, are never +quite carried away by their own imaginations. There are many very fine +passages in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> the book, which has only one fault—it is three times as +long as it should have been. The conception is delightful. In the +execution the author has not known when to stay his hand. Perhaps one of +those limitations of which I have spoken already was an imperfect +faculty of selection. For boys, the story should have been compressed +into one volume. One cannot understand, indeed, how his publishers +consented to put forth the book in three-volume novel form. Nobody, +after the first chapter, could possibly accept it as a three-volume +novel. But it contains many very striking and beautiful and poetic +pages.</p> + +<p>For instance, Bevis watches the sunrise:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The sun had not yet stood out from the orient, but his precedent +light shone through the translucent blue. Yet it was not blue, nor +is there any word, nor is a word possible to convey the feeling +unless one could be built up of signs and symbols like those in the +book of the magician, which glowed and burned to and fro the page. +For the blue of the precious sapphire is thick to it, the turquoise +dull:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> these hard surfaces are no more to be compared to it than +sand and gravel. They are but stones, hard, cold, pitiful: that +which gives them their lustre is the light. Through delicate +porcelain sometimes the light comes, and it is not the porcelain, +it is the light that is lovely. But porcelain is clay, and the +light is shorn, checked, and shrunken. Down through the beauteous +azure came the Light itself, pure, unreflected Light, untouched, +untarnished even by the dew-sweetened petal of a flower, +descending, flowing like a wind, a wind of glory sweeping through +the blue. A luminous purple glowing as Love glows in the cheek, so +glowed the passion of the heavens.</p> + +<p>"Two things only reach the soul. By touch there is indeed emotion. +But the light in the eye, the sound of the voice! the soul trembles +and like a flame leaps to meet them. So to the luminous purple +azure his heart ascended."</p></blockquote> + +<p>In "Wood Magic" Jefferies carries on the story of "Bevis" and of +"Guido." The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> creatures all talk to the boy, which makes going into the +fields and woods a much more delightful thing than it is to other boys, +to whom they will not address one single word. There is a wicked weasel, +for instance, caught in a gin, who tells such abominable lies as one may +expect from a weasel. There is also a fable about a magpie and a jay, +which fails, somehow, to arrest the reader. But when you have got +through the business with the creatures—I do not care in the least for +them unless Bevis is with them—you presently arrive at a most +delightful chapter where Bevis is instructed by the wind. It is such a +wise, wise wind, it knows so much. If Bevis will only remember the half +of what the wind has taught him!</p> + +<blockquote><p>"'Bevis, my love, if you want to know all about the sun, and the +stars, and everything, make haste and come to me, and I will tell +you, dear. In the morning, dear, get up as quick as you can, and +drink me as I come down from the hill. In the day go up on the +hill, dear, and drink me again, and stay there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> if you can till the +stars shine out, and drink still more of me.</p> + +<p>"'And by-and-by you will understand all about the sun, and the +moon, and the stars, and the Earth which is so beautiful, Bevis. It +is so beautiful, you can hardly believe how beautiful it is. Do not +listen, dear, not for one moment, to the stuff and rubbish they +tell you down there in the houses where they will not let me come. +If they say the Earth is not beautiful, tell them they do not speak +the truth. But it is not their fault, for they have never seen it, +and, as they have never drank me, their eyes are closed, and their +ears shut up tight. But every evening, dear, before you get into +bed, do you go to your window—the same as you did the evening the +Owl went by—and lift the curtain and look up at the sky, and I +shall be somewhere about, or else I shall be quiet in order that +there may be no clouds, so that you may see the stars. In the +morning, as I said before, rush out and drink me up.</p> + +<p>"'The more you drink of me, the more you will want, and the more I +shall love you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> Come up to me upon the hills, and your heart will +never be heavy, but your eyes will be bright, and your step quick, +and you will sing and shout——'</p> + +<p>"'So I will,' said Bevis, 'I will shout. Holloa!' and he ran up on +to the top of the little round hill, to which they had now +returned, and danced about on it as wild as could be.</p> + +<p>"'Dance away, dear,' said the Wind, much delighted. 'Everybody +dances who drinks me. The man in the hill there——'</p> + +<p>"'What man?' said Bevis, 'and how did he get in the hill; just tell +him I want to speak to him.'</p> + +<p>"'Darling,' said the Wind, very quiet and softly, 'he is dead, and +he is in the little hill you are standing on, under your feet. At +least, he was there once, but there is nothing of him there now. +Still it is his place, and as he loved me, and I loved him, I come +very often and sing here.'</p> + +<p>"'When did he die?' said Bevis. 'Did I ever see him?'</p> + +<p>"'He died just about a minute ago, dear;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> just before you came up +the hill. If you were to ask the people who live in the houses, +where they will not let me in (they carefully shut out the sun, +too), they would tell you he died thousands of years ago; but they +are foolish, very foolish. It was hardly so long ago as yesterday. +Did not the Brook tell you all about that?</p> + +<p>"'Now this man, and all his people, used to love me and drink me, +as much as ever they could all day long and a great part of the +night, and when they died they still wanted to be with me, and so +they were all buried on the tops of the hills, and you will find +these curious little mounds everywhere on the ridges, dear, where I +blow along. There I come to them still, and sing through the long +dry grass, and rush over the turf, and I bring the scent of the +clover from the plain, and the bees come humming along upon me. The +sun comes, too, and the rain. But I am here most; the sun only +shines by day, and the rain only comes now and then.'</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"'There never was a yesterday,' whispered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> the Wind presently, 'and +there never will be to-morrow. It is all one long to-day. When the +man in the hill was you were too, and he still is now you are here; +but of these things you will know more when you are older, that is +if you will only continue to drink me. Come, dear, let us race on +again.' So the two went on and came to a hawthorn-bush, and Bevis, +full of mischief always, tried to slip away from the Wind round the +bush, but the Wind laughed and caught him.</p> + +<p>"A little further and they came to the fosse of the old camp. Bevis +went down into the trench, and he and the Wind raced round along it +as fast as ever they could go, till presently he ran up out of it +on the hill, and there was the waggon underneath him, with the load +well piled up now. There was the plain, yellow with stubble; the +hills beyond it and the blue valley, just the same as he had left +it.</p> + +<p>"As Bevis stood and looked down, the Wind caressed him and said, +'Good-bye, darling, I am going yonder, straight across to the blue +valley and the blue sky, where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> they meet; but I shall be back +again when you come next time. Now remember, my dear, to drink +me—come up here and drink me.'</p> + +<p>"'Shall you be here?' said Bevis; 'are you quite sure you will be +here?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' said the Wind, 'I shall be quite certain to be here; I +promise you, love, I will never go quite away. Promise me +faithfully, too, that you will come up and drink me, and shout and +race and be happy.'</p> + +<p>"'I promise,' said Bevis, beginning to go down the hill; 'good-bye, +jolly old Wind.'</p> + +<p>"'Good-bye, dearest,' whispered the Wind, as he went across out +towards the valley. As Bevis went down the hill, a blue harebell, +who had been singing farewell to summer all the morning, called to +him and asked him to gather her and carry her home, as she would +rather go with him than stay now autumn was near.</p> + +<p>"Bevis gathered the harebell, and ran with the flower in his hand +down the hill, and as he ran the wild thyme kissed his feet and +said, 'Come again, Bevis, come again.' At the bottom of the hill +the waggon was loaded now;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> so they lifted him up, and he rode home +on the broad back of the leader."</p></blockquote> + +<p>There is one more story. I must not quote it, because it is too long, +but I cannot pass it over in silence. It will be found in "Nature Round +London." It is the story of a trout, and it has always filled me with +the most profound and most sincere admiration. So little did Jefferies +understand that he was here working out a picture of the most original +kind, of the deepest interest, that he actually divides it in two, goes +off to something else, and then returns to it. His inexhaustible mind +scattered its treasures about as lavishly as Nature herself scatters +abroad her flowers and her seeds, and with almost as little care about +arrangement, selection, and grouping.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>CONCLUSION</h3> + + +<p>I think that I have never read, in all the sad chronicles of hapless +authors, anything more pitiful than the history of the last years of +this life so short, yet so rich in its sheaves of golden grain and piles +of purple fruit. Everything possible of long-continued torture, +necessity of work, poverty, anxiety, and hope of recovery continually +deferred, are crammed into the miserable record which closes this +volume.</p> + +<p>Jefferies fell ill in December, 1881, five years and a half before the +end. He was attacked by a disease for which an operation of a very +severe and painful nature is the only cure. It is, however, one which, +in the hands of a skilful surgeon, is generally successful. Horrible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> to +relate, in his case, the operation proved unsuccessful, and had to be +repeated again and again. Four times in twelve months the dreadful +surgeon's knife was used upon this poor sufferer. For a whole year he +could do no work at all. The modest savings of the preceding years were +spent upon the physicians and the surgeons, and in the maintenance of +his household, while the pen of the breadwinner was perforce resting. +Before he was able to take pen in hand again, he was reduced to +something approaching destitution. You shall read directly how, when he +recovered, hope immediately returned, and he was once more happy in the +thought that now he could again work, though it was to begin the world +once more. Alas! the interval of hope was brief indeed. Another, and a +more mysterious disease attacked him. He felt an internal pain +constantly gnawing him; he could not eat without pain; he grew daily +weaker; he was at last no longer able to walk; he could only crawl.</p> + +<p>Henceforth his days and nights were a long struggle against suffering, +with a determina<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>tion, however, to go on with his work. Nothing more +wonderful than the courage and resolution of this man. As in youth he +had resolved to succeed somehow, though as yet ignorant of the better +way, so now he <i>would</i> not be beaten by pain. His very best work, the +work which will cause him to live, the work which places him among the +writers of his country, to be remembered and to be read long after the +men of his generation are dead and forgotten, was actually done while he +was in this suffering. The "Pageant of Summer," for example: well, the +"Pageant of Summer" reads as if it were the work of a man revelling in +the warmth of the quivering air; of a man in perfect health and +strength, body and mind at ease, surrendered wholly to the influence of +the flowers and the sunshine, at peace, save for the natural sadness of +one who communes much with himself on change, decay, and death. And yet +the "Pageant of Summer" was written while he was in deadly pain and +torture. Again, between 1883 and 1886 he published those collections of +papers called "Life in the Fields" and "The Open Air." He also wrote +"Red Deer,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> "Amaryllis," and a quantity of papers which have yet to be +collected and published. If, even for a moment, he had an interval of +strength, his busy pen began again to race over the paper, hasting to +set down the thoughts that filled his brain.</p> + +<p>His disease was discovered, after a period of intense suffering, to be +an ulceration of the small intestine. It was weakness induced by this +disease, which caused other complications, under which he gradually +sank.</p> + +<p>I suppose that Jefferies could never be considered a strong man. As a +boy, tall, active, nervous, he was muscularly weaker than his younger +brother. At the age of eighteen he showed symptoms which caused fear of +a decline. Perhaps his intense love of the open air indicated the kind +of medicine which he most needed. When he could no longer go into the +open air he died. Perhaps, too, the consciousness of physical weakness, +the sense of impending early death, caused him to yearn with so much +longing after physical perfection and the fuller life which he clearly +saw was possible. Those who are doomed to die young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>—as has been often +observed—have the deepest sense and the keenest enjoyment of life.</p> + +<p>Still, though not a strong man, he was apparently a healthy man. He +lived at all times a simple and a healthy life; there was nothing to +show that he was going to be struck down by so cruel an illness.</p> + +<p>The period of greatest suffering seems to have been in the year 1884. +The weakness following it set in some time during the year 1885.</p> + +<p>He writes to Mr. Charles Longman in May of the latter year:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Your suggestion"—that he should write a year-book of Nature—"of +a diary out of doors would no doubt make a good book, and I shall +give serious thought to it. My great difficulty is the physical +difficulty of writing. Since the spine gave way, there is no +position in which I can lie or sit so as to use a pen without +distress. Even a short letter like this is painful. Consequently, a +vast mass of ideas go into space, for I cannot write them down."</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p> + +<p>In August he returns to the subject:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Many thanks for your kind letter and interest in my weakness. I +sometimes rather need moral support of this sort, for after so long +the spirits show signs of flagging, and the way seems endless. Such +sympathy, therefore, helps me very much.... I should have liked to +have written the book you proposed. I made several attempts, but it +never satisfied me. I am glad, at all events, that you have +forgiven my unintentional nonfulfilment of the promise. Even yet, +perhaps, I may do something in that direction. Professor Gamgee, +under whom I have been lately, says that complete recovery would +follow a few weeks' basking in South Africa, or, failing that, +Southern Europe. There is plenty of energy in me still. I sometimes +dream of using the rifle—a dream, indeed, to a man who can with +difficulty drag himself across a field."</p></blockquote> + +<p>In June he writes to his friend, Mr. C.P. Scott, of the <i>Manchester +Guardian</i>:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>"Since I last wrote to you I have been very seriously ill. The +starvation went on and on, and no one could relieve it, till I had +to stay in the bedroom, and finally went to bed, fainting nearly +all day and night, and yet craving for food, half delirious, and in +the most dreadful state. How I endured I cannot tell. At last I had +Dr. Kidd down from London, and in forty-eight hours his treatment +checked the disease. I got downstairs, next, out of doors in a +Bath-chair, and now I can walk two hundred yards. But I am still +the veriest shadow of a man—my nerves are gone to pieces—and he +warns me that it will take months to effect a cure. Of that, +however, he is certain. Under his advice I have left Eltham, and am +staying here (Rotherfield, Sussex) till a cottage can be found for +me near Tunbridge Wells.... My last piece of MS. appears in +<i>Longman</i> this month, and I have now no more left, having exhausted +all I wrote when able. At least, there remains but one +piece—'Nature in the Louvre.' It is about a beautiful statue that +interested me greatly, and which seems to have escaped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> notice in +England. I think you would like the ideas expressed in it."</p></blockquote> + +<p>At this time it was suggested that he should make an application to the +Royal Literary Fund. He writes both to Mr. Longman and to Mr. Scott in +the strongest terms upon the subject. I do not, for my own part, in the +least agree with Jefferies in his wholesale condemnation of that useful +society, and therefore have the less hesitation in printing what he says +of it:</p> + +<blockquote> +<div class="right">'August 18, 1885.</div> + +<p>"You have put before me a very great temptation. It is impossible +for you to know how great, for there can be no doubt that it is the +winter that is my enemy. Last winter I was indoors six months—in +fact, it was eight before I really got out of doors, most of this +time helpless, sitting in an easy chair before the fire, my feet on +a pillow, and legs wrapped up in a railway-rug, up and down stairs +on hands and knees, and unable even to dress myself. Even now it +tears me to pieces even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> to walk a short distance. So that to pass +next winter in warmth seems almost like life, besides the great +possibility of complete recovery. There would be also the pleasure +of the sights and scenes of Algiers or South Africa. In short, it +has been a very great temptation, and I am sure it was most kind of +you to think of me. But the Royal Literary Fund is a thing to +accept aid from which humiliates the recipient past all bounds; it +is worse than the workhouse. If long illness ultimately drove me to +the workhouse, I should feel no disgrace, having done my utmost to +fight with difficulties. Everyone has a right to that last relief. +If this fund were maintained by pressmen, authors, journalists, +editors, publishers, newspaper proprietors, and so on, that would +be quite another matter. There would be no humiliation—rather the +contrary—and in time one might subscribe some day and help someone +else. It is no such thing. It is kept up by dukes and marquises, +lords and titled people, with a Prince at their head, and a vast +quantity of trumpet-blowing, in order that these people may say +they are patrons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> of literature! Patrons of literature! Was there +ever such a disgrace in the nineteenth century? Patrons of +literature! The thing is simply abominable! I dare say if I were a +town-born man I should not think so, but to me it wears an aspect +of standing insult.</p> + +<p>"No doubt we ought to combine—all who have ever touched a +pen—then we could assist each other in a straightforward and manly +way.</p> + +<p>"The temptation to me is very great indeed, because there is no +question that I have been slowly sinking for years for want of some +such travel or stimulus working through the nervous system. But I +have made up my mind to say no. I would rather run the risk of +quitting this world altogether next winter than degrade myself in +that way.</p> + +<p>"I am trying all I can to move altogether to the neighbourhood of +the sea. Possibly, even Dorset or Devon might answer; or, failing +that, I may try to pay a short visit to Schwalbach, and see if the +natural iron medicine of a mineral spring may do what compound +physic cannot. But I fancy the sea residence would be preferable.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Change is the only thing that as yet has affected me, which seems +to point conclusively to an exhausted system rather than to +disease."</p></blockquote> + +<p>To Mr. Scott he writes in a similar strain. It galls him to think of +being "patronized," and, indeed, if that were the view taken by the +council of the Royal Literary Fund, I, for one, should be the first to +agree with him. But it is not. Jefferies was wrong about the supporters +of the Fund which is, in fact, assisted by everybody who ever makes any +success in literature, and by every writer of any distinction either in +letters or in other fields. He adds, however, a paragraph in which I +cordially agree, and to the carrying out of the suggestion contained in +it some of us have, during the last three years, devoted a great deal of +time and effort.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"We ought, of course, to have a real Literary Association, to which +subscription should be almost semi-compulsory. We ought to have +some organization. Literature is young yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>—scarce fifty years +old. The legal and medical professions have had a start of a +thousand years. Our profession is young yet, but will be the first +of all in the time to come."</p></blockquote> + +<p>He goes on to speak of his health:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Ever since Christmas I have been trying to move to the sea-coast, +but I cannot effect it. I cannot stick to work long enough to +produce any result, the extreme weakness will not let me, so that I +cannot do anything. Whatever I wish to do, it seems as if a voice +said, 'No, you shall not do it. Feebleness forbids.' I think I +should like a good walk. No. I think I should like to write. No. I +think I should like to rest. No. Always No to everything. Even +writing this letter has made the spine ache almost past endurance. +I cannot convey to you how miserable it is to be impotent; to feel +yourself full of ideas and work, and to be unable to effect +anything; to sit and waste the hours. It is absolutely maddening."</p></blockquote> + +<p>In November he writes again. He is at Crowborough, where the fine air at +first seemed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> to be restoring him. He could walk about in the field at +the back of the house.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Suddenly I went down as if I had been shot. All the improvement +was lost, and now I have been indoors three months, steadily +becoming weaker and more emaciated every day. It is, in fact, +starvation. They cannot feed me, try what they will. No one would +believe what misery it is, and what extreme debility it produces. +The worst of all is the helplessness. Often I am compelled to sit +or lie for days and think, think, till I feel as if I should become +insane, for my mind seems as clear as ever, and the anxiety and +eager desire to do something is as strong as in my best days. There +is an ancient story of a living man tied to a dead one, and that is +like me; mind alive and body dead. I fear that my old friends will +give me up in time, because I cannot travel the path of friendship +now, and the Cymric proverb says that it soon grows covered with +briars."</p></blockquote> + +<p>A letter, dated June 19, 1886, is too sad to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> be quoted. His dependence +on others, even for the putting on of his clothes, his longing for the +sea-coast, which he thinks is certain to do him good, his lament over +the poverty which, through no fault of his own, has fallen upon him, +fill up this melancholy letter. Day and night there is no cessation of +pain.</p> + +<p>Help of all kinds was forthcoming from friends whom one must not name: +money, the offer of a house on the sea-coast; but there was the +difficulty of travelling. How was he to be moved? This difficulty was +got over, and he went to Bexhill for a time, returning to Crowborough in +September. The sea had done him good. On the night of his return, he +enjoyed a tranquil sleep for some hours, and awoke without pain.</p> + +<p>Among the letters sent to me by Mr. Scott is one from a well-known +physician who had been consulted on the case.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"There is no doubt," he says, "that there is some tuberculous +affection of his lungs, though, so far as I have been able to make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> +out, this does not seem to be at all in an active state.</p> + +<p>"The serious complaints which make his life a misery to him I +believe to be purely functional. He strikes me as being a very +marked example of hysteria in man, though in his case, as in many +among women, the commoner phenomena of hysteria are absent. I am +surprised to hear that he spoke warmly of my treatment, for he +would not admit to his ordinary attendant, nor to me, that his +symptoms had undergone any palliation whatever. He is prejudiced +against any treatment, and the result, according to him, always +agrees with his prediction."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Evidently an extremely difficult and nervous patient to treat. But that +might be expected. In October of 1886, Mr. Scott proposed to raise a +fund among the friends and admirers of his works which should be devoted +to sending him to a warmer climate. He consented, though with pain and +bitterness of soul. "I have written," he says, "fourteen books." He +enumerates them. "Scarcely anyone living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> has done so much." Yet he +forgets to consider for how small and select an audience he has written. +"All of them have been praised by the reviews. I cannot help feeling it +hard, after so much work, to come to such disgrace." It was hard, it was +cruelly hard. While the pensions of the Civil List—a breach of trust if +ever there was one—are bestowed upon daughters of distinguished +officers and widows of civil servants, such a man as Jefferies, for +whose assistance the grant is yearly asked and voted, is left to starve. +It is indeed cruelly hard on literature that the rulers of the country +should be so blind, so deaf, so pitiless—so dishonest. They made Burns +a gauger. Well: that was something. Could they not have made Jefferies a +police-constable, for instance? They gave him nothing: it would have +been useless to ask any Government to give anything: they wanted all the +money for persons for whom it was never intended. There never has +been—there is not now—not even at a time when Prime Ministers and +ex-Cabinet Ministers write articles for monthly magazines, any +Government which has had the least concern<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> for, knowledge of, or touch +with, literature, or its makers. Authors must develop and increase their +own Society, and then they will not have to ask the Government for any +Civil Pension list at all, and ministers may go on asking for the grant +for the support of science and letters, and giving it all to their own +creatures, and to the daughters, widows, and sisters of officers. It is +hard, it is cruelly hard, as Jefferies said: it is a hardship and a +disgrace to all of us that such a man as Jefferies should "come to such +disgrace."</p> + +<p>Well, the fund was raised, quietly, among the private friends of its +promoters. But it came too late for the Algerian or South African +expedition. The sick man was sent, however, to the seaside; to a house +at Goring, on the Sussex coast. From this place he wrote to Mr. Scott a +little history of his illness, the nature of which I have already +sketched. The description by a highly-sensitive man, then in a most +nervous condition, of the horrible pain which he had been enduring is +most terrible to read, and is altogether too terrible to be quoted. I +dare not quote the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> whole of this dreadful story of long-continued +agony. Take, however, the end of it. At last his wounds were somehow +made to heal.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Now imagine my joy. The wounds were well at last. I was free. I +could walk and sit—actually sit down. I could work. I was very +faint and ill, but fresh air would soon set that right. All these +expenses had swallowed up a large share of my savings, and I had +practically to begin life again. But I did not mind that. I went to +work joyously.</p> + +<p>"Now judge again of my disappointment. Within two months—in +February—I was seized with a mysterious wasting disease, +accompanied by much pain. I gradually wasted away to mere bones. By +degrees this pain increased till it became almost insupportable. I +can compare it to nothing but the flame of a small spirit lamp +continually burning within me. Sometimes it seemed like a rat +always gnaw, gnaw, night and day. I had no sleep. Everything I ate +or drank seemed to add fuel to the flame. The local doctors could +do nothing, so I went to London again, and in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> the course of the +two years and more that it lasted I was under five of the leading +London physicians. Altogether I had some forty prescriptions, and +took something like sixty drugs, besides being put on diet. It was +not the slightest use, and it became evident that they had no idea +what was really the matter with me. The pain went on, burn, burn, +burn. If I wrote a volume I could not describe it to you, this +terrible scorching pain, night and day. There is nothing in medical +books like it, except the pain that follows corrosive sublimate +which burns the tissues. It was at times so maddening that I +dreaded to go a few miles alone by rail lest I should throw myself +out of the window of the carriage. I worked and wrote all this +time, and some of my best work was done in this intense agony. I +received letters from New Zealand, from the United States, even +from the islands of the Pacific, from people who had read my +writings. It seemed so strange that I should read these letters, +and yet all the time, to be writhing in agony.</p> + +<p>"At last, in April, 1885, nature gave way,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> and I broke down +utterly, and could only lie on the sofa in a fainting condition. In +a few days I became so helpless and weak that there appeared little +chance of my living. Someone suggested that Dr. Kidd should be sent +for. He came on Sunday morning, and found me nearly ended. I was +fainting during the examination. He discovered that it was +ulceration of the intestines. You know how painful an ulcer is +anywhere—say on your lip—now for over two years this ulceration +had been burning its way in the intestines.</p> + +<p>"He put me on milk diet, malt bread, malt extract, malted food, +meat shredded and pounded in a mortar, raw beef, and so on. In +forty-eight hours the pain was better. For three weeks I improved +and hoped. I think that had the diet been then altered to the +ordinary food, I might have made a recovery; instead of which it +was kept up for nine weeks, at the end of which I had lost all the +improvement, and was so weak that I could but just crawl up and +down stairs. I attribute my subsequent exhaustion to the continued +use<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> of milk, which has the effect of destroying nervous energy."</p> + +<div class="right">'Oct. 22, 1886.<br /></div> + +<p>"I have been obliged to set all aside from extreme feebleness. +During the last four weeks, indeed, the weakness and emaciation +have become very great, so much so that I almost fancy the bones +waste. But what I feel most is the loss of fresh air from inability +to go out. The last two days have been dry, so that I have been +able to get up and down by the house a little.</p> + +<p>"Still, I should have managed somehow to write to you were it not +for the great dislike I feel to this begging business. You must not +take offence at this, though you may think me very foolish. I keep +putting it off and putting it off, till now I suppose I must do it, +or stay the winter indoors in helplessness. To-day I have written +to obtain the information necessary to fill up the form you sent.</p> + +<p>"In September, 1885, my spine seemed suddenly to snap. It happened +in ten minutes—quite suddenly. It felt as if one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> of the vertebræ +had been taken away. It was no doubt a form of paralysis. I had to +take to the sofa again, and was confined to the house for over +seven months, quite helpless. I could not undress myself. At +Christmas, other troubles set in; the local doctor gave me up. He +told my wife that nothing could be done for me, and that the only +hope was in my keeping in good spirits. The misery of that dreadful +winter will never be forgotten. At length nature seemed to revive a +little, and I got downstairs, and soon after Miss Scott came to see +me, and you sent me to the sea. On returning from the sea I slowly +lost ground again. In the summer I had an attack of vomiting +blood—of itself enough to alarm most people. By October I was +confined indoors again. At last I got down here.</p> + +<p>"Besides all these sufferings I had another trial—a loss by +death—one that I cannot dwell upon;"—it was the death of his +youngest child—"but it broke me down very much.</p> + +<p>"Of the loss of all my savings I need not say much. But it is +difficult to begin the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> world afresh"—alas! he was just about to +end the world—"even with good health.</p> + +<p>"With truth I think I may say that there are few, very few, perhaps +none, living who have gone through such a series of diseases. There +are many dead—many who have killed themselves for a tenth part of +the pain—there are few living.</p> + +<p>"My wearied and exhausted system constantly craves rest. My brain +is always asking for rest. I never sleep. I have not slept now for +five years properly, always waking, with broken bits of sleep, and +restlessness, and in the morning I get up more weary than I went to +bed. Rest, that is what I need. You thought naturally that it was +work I needed; but I have been at work, and next time I will tell +you all of it. It is not work, it is <i>rest</i> for the brain and the +nervous system. I have always had a suspicion that it was the +ceaseless work that caused me to go wrong at first.</p> + +<p>"It has taken me a long time to write this letter; it will take you +but a few minutes to read it. Had you not sent me to the sea in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> +the spring I do not think that I should have been alive to write +it."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Was there ever a more miserable tale of slow torture? Parts of it—the +parts relating to his operations—I have omitted. Enough remains. +Picture to yourself this tall, gaunt man reduced to a skeleton, not able +to use his pen for more than a few minutes at a time, his spine broken +down, spitting blood, lying back on the sofa, his mind full of splendid +thoughts which he <i>cannot</i> put upon paper, dictating sometimes when he +was strong enough, resolved on making money so as to save himself the +"disgrace" of applying to the Literary Fund, full of pain by day and +night, growing daily weaker, but never losing heart or hope—is there in +the whole calamitous history of authors a picture more full of sadness +and of pity than this?</p> + +<p>He writes again on January 10, 1887. He is no worse. The letter is about +money matters—that is to say, he has no money.</p> + +<p>On February 2 he writes again. He has been able to dictate a little.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>"I hope to be able to do more work after a time; when the weather +becomes sufficiently warm for me to sit out of doors. With me the +power to write is almost entirely dependent upon being out of +doors. Confined indoors, I have nothing to write, and I cannot +express my ideas if they do occur to me so boldly. You have no idea +what a difference it makes. A little air and movement seem to +brighten up the mind and give it play. I am in hope, too, that as +the warmth comes on the sea will help me more. Up to the present +the winter has gone well."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The last letter to Mr. Scott was written on March 23. He is pleased and +surprised to hear that the fund raised for him amounts to so much. +Perhaps it will enable him to go abroad presently. Meantime, he has had +a relapse—an attack of hæmorrhage—"and then so feeble that I have not +been able to dictate. This loss of time worries me more than I can tell +you."</p> + +<p>And so with thanks to this good friend, Richard Jefferies lays down his +pen for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> last time. The busy hand which has written so much will +write no more. He can no longer dictate. His very feebleness will soon +be past, and he will be at rest, whether in the unconscious clay-cold +rest of the dark grave, or in that better life of the Fuller Soul of +which he had so great and glorious a Vision—who knoweth?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>You have read the life of Richard Jefferies. You have seen how the +country lad, ill-educated, slenderly provided with books or friends, +formed in early life a resolution to succeed in letters. The resolution +was formed when as yet he had no knowledge or thought of style. You have +read how he fought long years against ill-success, against the ridicule +and coldness of his friends, but still kept up his courage; how he did +succeed at length, yet not at all in the way that at first he hoped. +That way would have taken him along the paths trodden by those who write +romances and stories to beguile their brothers and sisters, and to cheat +them into forgetfulness of their disappointments and anxieties; that +way, by which he wished to go, would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> led him quickly to the ease +of fortune which at all times he ardently desired. It is foolish, and +worse than foolish, to pretend that any man—even the best of men, even +the most philosophic of men—desires poverty, which is dependence; +therefore one does not blame this man for desiring fortune. The way, +however, by which he succeeded was a far higher and a nobler way, though +he understood not that at first.</p> + +<p>You have seen, also, not only that his early life was that of an obscure +reporter for a little country paper, but that his first ambition was +altogether for the making of money rather than for the production of +good work. The love of good work, as such, grew gradually in him. At +first it is not apparent at all. At first we have nothing but a +commonplace lad, poor, and therefore eager to make money, and fondly +thinking that it can be made by writing worthless and commonplace +stories. Nothing in his early life has been concealed. You have read his +very words, where they could be recovered. They are in no way remarkable +words; they are generally, in fact, commonplace.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> Nothing, except a +steady and consistent belief in his own future, the nature of which he +does not even suspect, reveals the power latent in his mind. There is +nothing at all in these early utterances to show the depths of poetry in +his soul. Nay, I think there were none of these depths in him at first. +So long as he worked among men, and contemplated their ways, he felt no +touch of poetry, he saw no gleam of light. Mankind seemed to him sordid +and creeping; either oppressor or oppressed. Away from men, upon the +breezy down and among the woods, he is filled with thoughts which, at +first, vanish like the photographs of scenery upon the eye. Presently he +finds out the way to fix those photographs. Then he is transformed, but +not suddenly; no, not suddenly. When he discovers the Gamekeeper at +Home, he begins to be articulate; with every page that follows he +becomes more articulate. At first he draws a faithful picture of the +cottager, the farmer, the gamekeeper, the poacher; the pictures are set +in appropriate scenery; by degrees the figures vanish and the setting +remains. But it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> no longer the same; it is now infused with the very +soul of the painter. The woods speak to us, through him; the very +flowers speak and touch our hearts, through him. The last seven years of +his life were full, indeed, of pain and bodily torture; but they were +glorified and hallowed by the work which he was enabled to do. Nay, they +even glorify and hallow all the life that went before. We no longer see +the commonplace young country reporter who tries to write commonplace +and impossible stories—we watch the future poet of the "Pageant of +Summer" whose early struggles we witness while he is seeking to find +himself. Presently he speaks. <span class="smcap">He has found himself</span>; he has obtained the +prayer of his heart; he has been blessed with the <span class="smcap">FULLER SOUL</span>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>At the last, during the long communings of the night when he lay +sleepless, happy to be free, if only for a few moments, from pain, the +simple old faith came back to him. He had arrived long before, as we +have seen, at the grand discovery: that the perfect soul wants the +perfect body, and that the perfect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> body must be inhabited by the +perfect soul. To this conclusion, you have seen, he was led by Nature +herself. Now he beheld clearly—perhaps more clearly than ever—the way +from this imperfect and fragmentary life to a fuller, happier life +beyond the grave. He had no need of priest; he wanted no other assurance +than the voice and words of Him who swept away all priests. The man who +wrote the "Story of My Heart;" the man who was filled to overflowing +with the beauty and order of God's handiwork; the man who felt so deeply +the shortness, and imperfections, and disappointments of life that he +was fain to cry aloud that all happens by chance; the man who had the +vision of the Fuller Soul, died listening with faith and love to the +words contained in the Old Book.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>What follows is written by his friend, Mr. J.W. North, who was with him +during the last days.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"It was in the early summer, two or three months before his death, +that I saw Jefferies for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> the last time alive. He had then been +living at Goring for some short time, and this was my first visit +to him there. I was pleased to find that his house was far +pleasanter than the dreary and bleak cottage which he had rented at +Crowborough. It had a view of the sea, a warm southern exposure, +and a good and interesting garden: in one corner a quaint little +arbour, with a pole and vane, and near the centre a genuine +old-fashioned draw-well. Poor fellow! Painfully, with short +breathing, and supported on one side by Mrs. Jefferies and on the +other by myself, he walked round this enclosure, noticing and +drawing our attention to all kinds of queer little natural objects +and facts. Between the well and the arbour was a heap of rough, +loose stones, overgrown by various creeping flowers. This was the +home of a common snake, discovered there by Harold, and poor +Jefferies stood, supported by us, a yard or so away and peered into +every little cranny and under every leaf with eyes well used to +such a search until some tiny gleam, some minute cold glint of +light, betrayed the snake. Weak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>ness and pain seemed forgotten for +the moment—alas! only for the moment. Uneasily he sat in the +little arbour telling me how his disease seemed still to puzzle the +doctors; how he felt well able in mind to work, plenty of mental +energy, but so weak, <i>so fearfully weak</i>, that he could no longer +write with his own hand; that his wife was patient and good to help +him. He had nobody to come and talk with him of the world of +literature and art. Why couldn't I come and settle by? There was +plenty to paint. Though Goring itself was one of the ugliest places +in the world, there was Arundel, and its noble park, and river, and +castle close by. I must go and see it the very next day, and see +whether I could not work there, and come back every day and cheer +him. I was the best doctor, after all.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow! I did not then know or believe that he was so utterly +without sympathetic society except his devoted wife. It was so. I +am one of the dullest companions in the world; but I had sympathy +with his work, and knowledge, too, of his subjects. Well, nothing +would do but that I must go to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> Arundel the next day, and Mrs. +Jefferies must show me the town. 'He would do well enough for one +day. A good neighbour would come in, and with little Phyllis and +the maid he would be safe.'</p> + +<p>"Therefore we went to Arundel (a short journey by train), and on +coming back found him standing against the door-post to welcome us.</p> + +<p>"I have seldom been more touched than by my experience of that +evening, finding, amongst other things, that he had partly planned +and insisted on this Arundel trip to get us away so that he might, +unrebuked, spend some of his latest hard earnings in a pint of +'Perrier Jouet' for my supper.</p> + +<p>"Do you know Goring churchyard? It is one of those dreary, +over-crowded, dark spots where the once-gravelled paths are green +with slimy moss, and it was a horror to poor Jefferies. More than +once he repeated the hope that he might not be laid there, and he +chose the place where his widow at last left him—amongst the +brighter grass and flowers at Broadwater.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He died at Goring at half-past two on Sunday morning, August 14, +1887. His soul was released from a body wasted to a skeleton by six +long weary years of illness. For nearly two years he had been too +weak to write, and all his delightful work, during that period, was +written by his wife from his dictation. Who can picture the torture +of these long years to him, denied as he was the strength to walk +so much as one hundred yards in the world he loved so well? What +hero like this, fighting with Death face to face so long, fearing +and knowing, alas! too well, that no struggles could avail, and, +worse than all, that his dear ones would be left friendless and +penniless. Thus died a man whose name will be first, perhaps for +ever, in his own special work."</p> + +<div class="right">'Monday, Aug. 15,<br /></div> + +<p>"... I went yesterday, expecting once more to speak with him. I +found him lying <i>dead, twelve hours dead</i>. I saw him with Mrs. +Jefferies and their little Phyllis. A pitiful sight to see them +kiss the poor cold face! God help them! All through his last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> days +his wife was with him <i>day and night</i>; a young country girl, who +behaved nobly all through, was her only help.... His long, long +illness of six years (four years before at Eltham he looked near +death)—this long, wearisome time had almost persuaded many who +knew him not intimately that his illness was partly imaginary. He +proved it otherwise. A soldier who in health, high spirits, and +excitement, rides to what appears certain death is called a hero: +glory and honours are heaped upon him; but what is that compared +with years of fighting without cessation, and the <i>absolute +certainty</i> of defeat always present to the mind? I asked Mrs. +Jefferies if he had made a will. She said: 'No; surely it would +have been useless, we have nothing. A woman singly, strong as I am, +could rough it; but if something can be done for the children—.' +Something shall be done. I had to call at my framemaker's to put +off an appointment. I told him roughly what had happened to me +yesterday. He had never heard of Jefferies, and knew nothing of his +work; but he said, 'I shall be glad if anything can be done if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> you +will put us down for two guineas.' All those who are country born +and bred, and have a heart inside their body, have always +recognised and admired poor Jefferies' writing. Shall I say what I +think and <i>know</i>, that in all our literature until now he has never +had a rival, and that it is most likely he will never be equalled? +In a hundred years he will be only more truly appreciated than at +present. The number of men who combine the love and the knowledge +of literary work is more limited, perhaps, in this age than in any +previous one. Few people, again, of intelligence and refinement of +heart and mind live completely in the country, and much, very much +of his work, will be always unintelligible to those who cannot +exist in a country-house unless it is full of frequently-changing +guests. I have been trying by a different art for thirty +years—equal to almost the whole of his life on earth—to convey an +idea to others of some such subjects, and I feel with shame that in +the work of half a year I do not get so near the heart and truth of +Nature as he in one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> paragraph. With strict charge that it should +not leave my hands, Mrs. Jefferies lent me the proof of an article +which appeared in <i>Longman's Magazine</i> in spring, 1886. It was the +very last copy he wrote with his own hand. Since then his wife +wrote from his dictation. Read this quotation from it, which +touched me greatly yesterday:</p> + +<p>"'I wonder to myself how they can all get on without me; how they +manage, bird and flower, without <span class="smcap">ME</span>, to keep the calendar for them. +For I noted it so carefully and lovingly day by day.'</p> + +<p>"And this:</p> + +<p>"'They go on without me, orchis-flower and cowslip. I cannot number +them all. I hear, as it were, the patter of their feet—flower and +buds, and the beautiful clouds that go over, with the sweet rush of +rain and burst of sun glory among the leafy trees. They go on, and +I am no more than the least of the empty shells that strew the +sward of the hill.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> + +<p>"One thing I saw in one of his last note-books: 'Three great giants +are against me—disease, despair, and poverty.'</p> + +<p>"One thing more. His wife said that their time had been for long +spent in prayer together and reading St. Luke.</p> + +<p>"Almost his last intelligible words were, 'Yes, yes; that is so. +Help, Lord, for Jesus' sake. Darling, good-bye. God bless you and +the children, and save you all from such great pain.'</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"He was buried at Broadwater, by Worthing, Sussex.</p> + +<p>"In the gentlest, sweet, soft, sunny rain he was borne along the +path to his grave in the grass, and when the last part of the +service for the dead had been read, well and solemnly, and we +turned away leaving him for ever on earth, the large tears from +heaven fell thick and fast, and over and over again came to me the +saying, 'Happy are the dead that the rain rains on.' The modest +home-made wreath of wild wood-clematis and myrtle my wife had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> sent +pleased me by happy symbolism—for as the myrtle is, so will his +memory be, 'for ever green.'</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Mourn, little harebells, o'er the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye stately foxgloves fair to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye woodbines hanging bonnilie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In scented bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye roses on your thorny tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The first o' flowers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Mourn, Spring, thou darling of the year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ilk cowslip-cup shall kep a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou Summer, while each corny spear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shoots up its head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy gay, green, flowery tresses shear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For him that's dead."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<div class="right">"J.W.N."<br /></div> +</blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="APPENDIX_I" id="APPENDIX_I"></a>APPENDIX I.<br /></h2> + +<h3>LIST OF JEFFERIES' WORKS.</h3> + + +<div class="center">(<i>The Dates of the First Editions only are given.</i>)<br /><br /></div> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Reporting, Editing and Authorship.</span> John Snow and Co., Ivy Lane; +Alfred Bull, Victoria Street, Swindon, 1873. Handbook.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">A Memoir of the Goddards of North Wilts.</span> Published by the author, +Coate, Swindon, 1873.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Jack Brass, Emperor of England.</span> T. Pettit, and Co., 23, Frith +Street, Soho, 1873. Pamphlet.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">The Scarlet Shawl.</span> Tinsley Bros., 1874. 1 vol. novel.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Restless Human Hearts.</span> Tinsley Bros., 1875. 3 vols.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Suez-cide.</span> John Snow and Co., Ivy Lane, 1876. Pamphlet.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">World's End.</span> Tinsley Bros., 1877. 3 vols.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Game-Keeper at Home.</span> Smith and Elder, 1878. 1 vol.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Amateur Poacher.</span> Smith and Elder, 1881.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Wild Life in a Southern County.</span> Smith and Elder, 1879. 1 vol.</p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span></p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Greene Ferne Farm.</span> Smith and Elder, 1880. 1 vol.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Hodge and his Masters.</span> Smith and Elder, 1880. 2 vols.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Round about a Great Estate.</span> Smith and Elder, 1880. 1 vol.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Wood Magic.</span> Cassell, 1881. 1 vol.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Bevis.</span> Sampson Low and Co., 1882. 3 vols.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Nature near London.</span> Chatto and Windus, 1883. 1 vol.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Story of my Heart.</span> Longmans, 1883. 1 vol.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">The Dewy Morn.</span> Chapman and Hall, 1884. 2 vol. novel.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Life of the Fields.</span> Chatto and Windus, 1884. 1 vol.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Red-Deer.</span> Longmans, 1884. 1 vol.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">After London.</span> Cassell, 1885. 1 vol.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">The Open Air.</span> Chatto and Windus, 1885. 1 vol.</p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Amaryllis at the Fair.</span> Sampson Low and Co., 1887. 1 vol.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="APPENDIX_II" id="APPENDIX_II"></a>APPENDIX II.<br /></h2> + +<h3>LIST OF PAPERS STILL UNPUBLISHED.</h3> + + +<p> +<span class="smcap">My Old Village.</span> <i>Longman's Magazine</i>, October, 1887.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Hours of Spring.</span> <i>Longman's Magazine</i>, 1885.<br /> +<span class="smcap">April Gossip.</span> <i>St. James's Gazette.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Some April Sweets.</span> <i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Makers of Summer.</span> <i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Walks in the Wheatfields.</span> <i>English Illustrated Magazine.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Somerset in June.</span> <i>English Illustrated Magazine</i>, October, 1887.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Birds' Nests.</span> <i>St. James's Gazette.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Field Sports in Art.</span> <i>Art Journal.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Nature in the Louvre.</span> <i>Magazine of Art.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Nature and Books.</span> <i>Fortnightly Review.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Buckhurst Park.</span> <i>Standard.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Country Places.</span> <i>Manchester Guardian.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">The July Grass.</span> <i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Country-side.</span> <i>Manchester Guardian.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Winds of Heaven.</span> <i>Chambers' Journal.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Country Sunday.</span> <i>Longman's Magazine</i>, June, 1887.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Swallow-Time.</span> <i>Standard.</i><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span><span class="smcap">House-Martins.</span> <i>Standard.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Among the Nuts.</span> <i>Standard.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Locality and Nature.</span> <i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Field Words and Ways.</span> <i>Chambers' Journal.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Cottage Ideas.</span> <i>Chambers' Journal.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Steam on Country Roads.</span> <i>Standard.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Time of Year.</span> <i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Mixed Days of May and December.</span> <i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Just before Winter.</span> <i>Chambers' Journal.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">My Chaffinch.</span> <i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="APPENDIX_III" id="APPENDIX_III"></a>APPENDIX III.<br /></h2> + +<h3>LETTER TO THE <i>TIMES</i>, NOVEMBER, 1872.</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—The Wiltshire agricultural labourer is not so highly paid as those +of Northumberland, nor so low as those of Dorset; but in the amount of +his wages, as in intelligence and general position, he may fairly be +taken as an average specimen of his class throughout a large portion of +the kingdom.</p> + +<p>As a man, he is usually strongly built, broad-shouldered, and massive in +frame, but his appearance is spoilt by the clumsiness of his walk and +the want of grace in his movements. Though quite as large in muscle, it +is very doubtful if he possesses the strength of the seamen who may be +seen lounging about the ports. There is a want of firmness, a certain +disjointed style, about his limbs, and the muscles themselves have not +the hardness and tension of the sailor's. The labourer's muscle is that +of a cart-horse, his motions lumbering and slow. His style of walk is +caused by following the plough in early childhood, when the weak limbs +find it a hard labour to pull the heavy-nailed boots from the thick clay +soil. Ever afterwards he walks as if it were an exertion to lift his +legs. His food may, perhaps, have something to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> do with the deadened +slowness which seems to pervade everything he does—there seems a lack +of vitality about him. It consists chiefly of bread and cheese, with +bacon twice or thrice a week, varied with onions, and if he be a milker +(on some farms) with a good "tuck-out" at his employer's expense on +Sundays. On ordinary days he dines at the fashionable hour of six or +seven in the evening—that is, about that time his cottage scents the +road with a powerful odour of boiled cabbage, of which he eats an +immense quantity. Vegetables are his luxuries, and a large garden, +therefore, is the greatest blessing he can have. He eats huge onions +raw; he has no idea of flavouring his food with them, nor of making +those savoury and inviting messes or vegetable soups at which the French +peasantry are so clever. In Picardy I have often dined in a peasant's +cottage, and thoroughly enjoyed the excellent soup he puts upon the +table for his ordinary meal. To dine in an English labourer's cottage +would be impossible. His bread is generally good, certainly; but his +bacon is the cheapest he can buy at small second-class shops—oily, +soft, wretched stuff; his vegetables are cooked in detestable style, and +eaten saturated with the pot-liquor. Pot-liquor is a favourite soup. I +have known cottagers actually apply at farmers' kitchens, not only for +the pot-liquor in which meat has been soddened, but for the water in +which potatoes have been boiled—potato-liquor—and sup it up with +avidity. And this not in times of dearth or scarcity, but rather as a +relish. They never buy anything but bacon; never butcher's meat. +Philanthropic ladies, to my knowledge, have demonstrated over and over +again even to their limited capa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span>cities that certain parts of butchers' +meat can be bought just as cheap, and will make more savoury and +nutritive food; and even now, with the present high price of meat, a +certain portion would be advantageous. In vain; the labourers +obstinately adhere to the pig, and the pig only. When, however, an +opportunity does occur, the amount of food they will eat is something +astonishing. Once a year, at the village club dinner, they gormandize to +repletion. In one instance I knew of a man eating a plate of roast beef +(and the slices are cut enormously thick at these dinners), a plate of +boiled beef, then another of boiled mutton, and then a fourth of roast +mutton, and a fifth of ham. He said he could not do much to the bread +and cheese; but didn't he go into the pudding! I have even heard of men +stuffing to the fullest extent of their powers, and then retiring from +the table to take an emetic of mustard and return to a second gorging. +There is scarcely any limit to their power of absorbing beer. I have +known reapers and mowers make it their boast that they could lie on +their backs and never take the wooden bottle (in the shape of a small +barrel) from their lips till they had drunk a gallon, and from the feats +I have seen I verily believe it a fact. The beer they get is usually +poor and thin, though sometimes in harvest the farmers bring out a taste +of strong liquor, but not till the work is nearly over; for from this +very practice of drinking enormous quantities of small beer the labourer +cannot drink more than a very limited amount of good liquor without +getting tipsy. This is why he so speedily gets inebriated at the +alehouse. While mowing and reaping many of them lay in a small cask.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span></p> + +<p>They are much better clothed now than formerly. Corduroy trousers and +slops are the usual style. Smock-frocks are going out of use, except for +milkers and faggers. Almost every labourer has his Sunday suit, very +often really good clothes, sometimes glossy black, with the regulation +"chimney-pot." His unfortunate walk betrays him, dress how he will. +Since labour has become so expensive it has become a common remark among +the farmers that the labourer will go to church in broadcloth and the +masters in smock-frocks. The labourer never wears gloves—that has to +come with the march of the times; but he is particularly choice over his +necktie. The women must dress in the fashion. A very respectable draper +in an agricultural district was complaining to me the other day that the +poorest class of women would have everything in the fashionable style, +let it change as often as it would. In former times, if he laid in a +stock of goods suited to tradesmen, and farmers' wives and daughters, if +the fashion changed, or they got out of date, he could dispose of them +easily to the servants. Now no such thing. The quality did not matter so +much, but the style must be the style of the day—no sale for remnants. +The poorest girl, who had not got two yards of flannel on her back, must +have the same style of dress as the squire's daughter—Dolly Vardens, +chignons, and parasols for ladies who can work all day reaping in the +broiling sun of August! Gloves, kid, for hands that milk the cows!</p> + +<p>The cottages now are infinitely better than they were. There is scarcely +room for further improvement in the cottages now erected upon estates. +They have three bedrooms, and every appliance and comfort com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span>patible +with their necessarily small size. It is only the cottages erected by +the labourers themselves on waste plots of ground which are open to +objection. Those he builds himself are indeed, as a rule, miserable +huts, disgraceful to a Christian country. I have an instance before me +at this moment where a man built a cottage with two rooms and no +staircase or upper apartments, and in those two rooms eight persons +lived and slept—himself and wife, grown-up daughters, and children. +There was not a scrap of garden attached, not enough to grow half a +dozen onions. The refuse and sewage was flung into the road, or filtered +down a ditch into the brook which supplied that part of the village with +water. In another case at one time there was a cottage in which twelve +persons lived. This had upper apartments, but so low was the ceiling +that a tall man could stand on the floor, with his head right through +the opening for the staircase, and see along the upper floor under the +beds! These squatters are the curse of the community. It is among them +that fever and kindred infectious diseases break out; it is among them +that wretched couples are seen bent double with rheumatism and +affections of the joints caused by damp. They have often been known to +remain so long, generation after generation, in these wretched hovels +that at last the lord of the manor having neglected to claim quit-rent, +they can defy him, and claim them as their own property, and there they +stick, eyesores and blots, the fungi of the land. The cottages erected +by farmers or by landlords are now, one and all, fit and proper +habitations for human beings; and I verily believe it would be +impossible throughout the length<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> and breadth of Wiltshire to find a +single bad cottage on any large estate, so well and so thoroughly have +the landed proprietors done their work. On all farms gardens are +attached to the cottages, in many instances very large, and always +sufficient to produce enough vegetables for the resident. In villages +the allotment system has been greatly extended of late years, and has +been found most beneficial, both to owners and tenants. As a rule the +allotments are let at a rate which may be taken as £4 per annum—a sum +which pays the landlord very well, and enables the labourer to +remunerate himself. In one village which came under my observation the +clergyman of the parish has turned a portion of his glebe-land into +allotments—a most excellent and noble example, which cannot be too +widely followed or too much extolled. He is thus enabled to benefit +almost every one of his poor parishioners, and yet without destroying +that sense of independence which is the great characteristic of a true +Englishman. He has issued a book of rules and conditions under which +these allotments are held, and he thus places a strong check upon +drunkenness and dissolute habits, indulgence in which is a sure way to +lose the portions of ground. There is scarcely an end to the benefits of +the allotment system. In villages there cannot be extensive gardens, and +the allotments supply their place. The extra produce above that which +supplies the table and pays the rent is easily disposed of in the next +town, and places many additional comforts in the labourer's reach. The +refuse goes to help support and fatten the labourer's pig, which brings +him in profit enough to pay the rent of his cottage, and the pig, in +turn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> manures the allotment. Some towns have large common lands, held +under certain conditions; such are Malmesbury, with 500 acres, and +Tetbury (the common land of which extends two miles): both these being +arable, etc. These are not exactly in the use of labourers, but they are +in the hands of a class to which the labourer often rises. Many +labourers have fruit trees in their gardens which, in some seasons, +prove very profitable. In the present year, to my knowledge, a labourer +sold £4 worth of apples; and another made £3 10s. of the produce of one +pear-tree, pears being scarce.</p> + +<p>To come at last to the difficult question of wages. In Wiltshire there +has been no extended strike, and very few meetings upon the subject, for +the simple reason that the agitators can gain no hold upon a county +where, as a mass, the labourers are well paid. The common day-labourer +receives 10s., 11s., and 12s. a week, according to the state of supply +and demand for labour in various districts, and, if he milks, 1s. more, +making 13s. a week, now common wages. These figures are rather below the +mark; I could give instances of much higher pay. To give a good idea of +the wages paid, I will take the case of a hill farmer (arable, +Marlborough Downs), who paid this last summer during harvest 18s. per +week per man. His reapers often earned 10s. a day; enough to pay their +year's rent in a week. These men lived in cottages on the farm, with +three bedrooms each, and some larger, with every modern appliance, each +having a garden of a quarter of an acre attached and close at hand, for +which cottage and garden they paid 1s. per week rent. The whole of these +cottages were insured by the farmer himself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> their furniture, etc., in +one lump, and the insurance policy cost him, as nearly as possible, 1s. +3d. per cottage per year. For this he deducted 1s. per year each from +their wages. None of the men would have insured unless he had insisted +upon doing it for them. These men had from six to eight quarts of beer +per man (over and above their 18s. per week) during harvest every day. +In spring and autumn their wages are much increased by forced work, +hoeing, etc. In winter the farmer draws their coal for them in his +waggons, a distance of eight miles from the nearest wharf, enabling them +to get it at cost price. This is no slight advantage, for, at the +present high price of coal, it is sold, delivered in the villages, at +2s. per cwt. Many who cannot afford it in the week buy a quarter of a +cwt. on Saturday night to cook their Sunday's dinner with, for 6d. This +is at the rate of £2 per ton. Another gentleman, a large steam +cultivator in the Vale, whose name is often before the public, informs +me that his books show that he paid £100 in one year in cash to one +cottage for labour, showing the advantage the labourer possesses over +the mechanic, since his wife and child can add to his income. Many +farmers pay £50 and £60 a year for beer drunk by their labourers—a +serious addition to their wages. The railway companies and others who +employ mechanics do not allow them any beer. The allowance of a good +cottage and a quarter of an acre of garden for 1s. per week is not +singular. Many who were at the Autumn Manœuvres of the present year +may remember having a handsome row of houses, rather than cottages, +pointed out to them as inhabited by labourers at 1s. per week. In the +immediate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> neighbourhood of large manufacturing towns 1s. 6d. a week is +sometimes paid; but then these cottages would in such positions readily +let to mechanics for 3s., 4s., and even 5s. per week. There was a great +outcry when the Duke of Marlborough issued an order that the cottages on +his estate should in future only be let to such men as worked upon the +farms where those cottages are situated. In reality this was the very +greatest blessing the Duke could have conferred upon the agricultural +labourer; for it insured him a good cottage at a nearly nominal rent and +close to his work; whereas in many instances previously the cottages on +the farms had been let at a high rate to the mechanics, and the labourer +had to walk miles before he got to his labour. Cottages are not erected +by landowners or by farmers as paying speculations. It is well known +that the condition of things prevents the agricultural labourer from +being able to pay a sufficient rent to be a fair percentage upon the sum +expended. In one instance a landlord has built some cottages for his +tenant, the tenant paying a certain amount of interest on the sum +invested by the landlord. Now, although this is a matter of arrangement, +and not of speculation—that is, although the interest paid by the +tenant is a low percentage upon the money laid out, yet the rent paid by +the labourers inhabiting these cottages to the tenant does not reimburse +him what he pays his landlord as interest—not by a considerable margin. +But then he has the advantage of his labourers close to his work, always +ready at hand.</p> + +<p>Over and above the actual cash wages of the labourer, which are now very +good, must be reckoned his cottage and garden, and often a small +orchard, at a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> nominal rent, his beer at his master's expense, +piecework, gleaning after harvest, etc., which alter his real position +very materially. In Gloucestershire, on the Cotswolds, the best-paid +labourers are the shepherds, for in that great sheep country much trust +is reposed in them. At the annual auctions of shearlings which are held +upon the low farms a purse is made for the shepherd of the flock, into +which everyone who attends is expected to drop a shilling, often +producing £5. The shepherds on the Wiltshire downs are also well paid, +especially in lambing time, when the greatest watchfulness and care are +required. It has been stated that the labourer has no chance of rising +from his position. This is sheer cant. He has very good opportunities of +rising, and often does rise, to my knowledge. At this present moment I +could mention a person who has risen from a position scarcely equal to +that of a labourer, not only to have a farm himself, but to place his +sons in farms. Another has just entered on a farm; and several more are +on the high-road to that desirable consummation. If a labourer possesses +any amount of intelligence he becomes head carter or head fagger, as the +case may be; and from that to be assistant or underbailiff, and finally +bailiff. As a bailiff he has every opportunity to learn the working of a +farm, and is often placed in entire charge of a farm at a distance from +his employer's residence. In time he establishes a reputation as a +practical man, and being in receipt of good wages, with very little +expenditure, saves some money. He has now little difficulty in obtaining +the promise of a farm, and with this can readily take up money. With +average care he is a made man. Others rise from petty trading,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> petty +dealing with pigs and calves, till they save sufficient to rent a small +farm, and make that the basis of larger dealing operations. I question +very much whether a clerk in a firm would not find it much more +difficult, as requiring larger capital, to raise himself to a level with +his employer than an agricultural labourer does to the level of a +farmer.</p> + +<p>Many labourers now wander far and wide as navvies, etc., and perhaps +when these return home, as most of them do, to agricultural labour, they +are the most useful and intelligent of their class, from a readiness +they possess to turn their hand to anything. I know one at this moment +who makes a large addition to his ordinary wages by brewing for the +small inns, and very good liquor he brews, too. They pick up a large +amount of practical knowledge.</p> + +<p>The agricultural women are certainly not handsome; I know no peasantry +so entirely uninviting. Occasionally there is a girl whose nut-brown +complexion and sloe-black eyes are pretty, but their features are very +rarely good, and they get plain quickly, so soon as the first flush of +youth is past. Many have really good hair in abundance, glossy and rich, +perhaps from its exposure to the fresh air. But on Sundays they plaster +it with strong-smelling pomade and hair-oil, which scents the air for +yards most unpleasantly. As a rule, it may safely be laid down that the +agricultural women are moral, far more so than those of the town. Rough +and rude jokes and language are, indeed, too common; but that is all. No +evil comes of it. The fairs are the chief cause of immorality. Many an +honest, hard-working servant-girl owes her ruin to these fatal mops and +fairs, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> liquor to which she is unaccustomed overcomes her. Yet it +seems cruel to take from them the one day or two of the year on which +they can enjoy themselves fairly in their own fashion. The spread of +friendly societies, patronized by the gentry and clergy, with their +annual festivities, is a remedy which is gradually supplying them with +safer, and yet congenial, amusement. In what may be termed lesser morals +I cannot accord either them or the men the same praise. They are too +ungrateful for the many great benefits which are bountifully supplied +them—the brandy, the soup, and fresh meat readily extended without +stint from the farmer's home in sickness to the cottage are too quickly +forgotten. They who were most benefited are often the first to most +loudly complain and to backbite. Never once in all my observation have I +heard a labouring man or woman make a grateful remark; and yet I can +confidently say that there is no class of persons in England who receive +so many attentions and benefits from their superiors as the agricultural +labourers. Stories are rife of their even refusing to work at disastrous +fires because beer was not immediately forthcoming. I trust this is not +true; but it is too much in character. No term is too strong in +condemnation for those persons who endeavour to arouse an agitation +among a class of people so short-sighted and so ready to turn against +their own benefactors and their own interest. I am credibly informed +that one of these agitators, immediately after the Bishop of +Gloucester's unfortunate but harmlessly intended speech at the +Gloucester Agricultural Society's dinner—one of these agitators mounted +a platform at a village meeting and in plain language incited and +ad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span>vised the labourers to duck the farmers! The agricultural women +either go out to field-work or become indoor servants. In harvest they +hay-make—chiefly light work, as raking; and reap, which is much harder +labour; but then, while reaping, they work their own time, as it is done +by the piece. Significantly enough, they make longer hours while +reaping. They are notoriously late to arrive, and eager to return home +on the hayfield. The children help both in haymaking and reaping. In +spring and autumn they hoe and do other piecework. On pasture farms they +beat clots or pick up stones out of the way of the mowers' scythes. +Occasionally, but rarely now, they milk. In winter they wear gaiters, +which give the ankles a most ungainly appearance. Those who go out to +service get very low wages at first from their extreme awkwardness, but +generally quickly rise. As dairymaids they get very good wages indeed. +Dairymaids are scarce and valuable. A dairymaid who can be trusted to +take charge of a dairy will sometimes get £20 besides her board +(liberal) and sundry perquisites. These often save money, marry +bailiffs, and help their husbands to start a farm.</p> + +<p>In the education provided for children Wiltshire compares favourably +with other counties. Long before the passing of the recent Act in +reference to education the clergy had established schools in almost +every parish, and their exertions have enabled the greater number of +places to come up to the standard required by the Act, without the +assistance of a School Board. The great difficulty is the distance +children have to walk to school, from the sparseness of population and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> +the number of outlying hamlets. This difficulty is felt equally by the +farmers, who, in the majority of cases, find themselves situated far +from a good school. In only one place has anything like a cry for +education arisen, and that is on the extreme northern edge of the +country. The Vice-Chairman of the Swindon Chamber of Agriculture +recently stated that only one-half of the entire population of Inglesham +could read and write. It subsequently appeared that the parish of +Inglesham was very sparsely populated, and that a variety of +circumstances had prevented vigorous efforts being made. The children, +however, could attend schools in adjoining parishes, not farther than +two miles, a distance which they frequently walk in other parts of the +country.</p> + +<p>Those who are so ready to cast every blame upon the farmer, and to +represent him as eating up the earnings of his men and enriching himself +with their ill-paid labour, should remember that farming, as a rule, is +carried on with a large amount of borrowed capital. In these days, when +£6 an acre has been expended in growing roots for sheep, when the +slightest derangement of calculation in the price of wool, meat, or +corn, or the loss of a crop, seriously interferes with a fair return for +capital invested, the farmer has to sail extremely close to the wind, +and only a little more would find his canvas shaking. It was only +recently that the cashier of the principal bank of an agricultural +county, after an unprosperous year, declared that such another season +would make almost every farmer insolvent. Under these circumstances it +is really to be wondered at that they have done as much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> as they have +for the labourer in the last few years, finding him with better +cottages, better wages, better education, and affording him better +opportunities of rising in the social scale.</p> + +<div class="right">I am, Sir, faithfully yours,<br /> +RICHARD JEFFERIES.<br /> +<br /></div> +<p>Coate Farm, Swindon,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>November 12</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<h3>THE END</h3> + + +<div class="center">BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS. GUILDFORD<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum">[1]</span></p> +<div class="right"> +[<i>October, 1888</i>.<br /> +</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/catalogue.jpg" width="600" height="187" alt="" title="" /> +<br /></div> + +<div class="center"><i><span style="font-size: 2em" class="smcap">A List of Books</span></i><br /> +PUBLISHED BY<br /> +<span style="font-size: 2.5em" class="smcap">Chatto & Windus,</span><br /> +214, PICCADILLY, LONDON, W.<br /> + + +<i>Sold by all Booksellers, or sent post free for the published price by +the Publishers.</i><br /><br /></div> + + +<p class="ph1ns"><span class="smcap">Edition de Luxe of a French Classic.</span></p> + +<p class="ph1ns"><b>Abbé Constantin (The).</b> By <span class="smcap">Ludovic Halevy</span>, of the French Academy. +Translated into English. With 36 Photogravure Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Goupil & +Co.</span>, after the Drawings of Madame <span class="smcap">Madeleine Lemaire</span>. Only 250 copies of +this choice book have been printed (in large quarto) for the English +market, each one numbered. The price may be learned from any Bookseller.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>About.—The Fellah</b>: An Egyptian Novel. By <span class="smcap">Edmond About</span>. Translated by +Sir <span class="smcap">Randal Roberts</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>2s. +6d.</b></p> + +<p class="nsb"><b>Adams (W. Davenport), Works by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Dictionary of the Drama.</b> Being a comprehensive Guide to the Plays, +Playwrights, Players, and Playhouses of the United Kingdom and America, +from the Earliest to the Present Times. Crown 8vo, half-bound, <b>12s. 6d.</b> +<span style="left: 92%;"> [<i>Preparing.</i></span></p> + +<p class="ph2"><b>Quips and Quiddities.</b> Selected by <span class="smcap">W. Davenport Adams</span>. Post 8vo, cloth +limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Advertising, A History of</b>, from the Earliest Times. Illustrated by +Anecdotes, Curious Specimens, and Notices of Successful Advertisers. By +<span class="smcap">Henry Sampson</span>. With Coloured Frontispiece and Illustrations. Crown 8vo, +cloth gilt, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + + +<p class="ph1"><b>Agony Column (The) of "The Times,"</b> from 1800 to 1870. Edited, with an +Introduction, by <span class="smcap">Alice Clay</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Aidë (Hamilton), Works by</b>: Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.<br /> +<b>Carr of Carrlyon.</b><br /> +<b>Confidences.</b><br /> +</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Alexander (Mrs.), Novels by</b>: Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.<br /> +<b>Maid, Wife, or Widow?</b><br /> +<b>Valerie's Fate.</b></p> + +<p class="nsb"><b>Allen (Grant), Works by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Evolutionist at Large.</b> Second Edition, revised.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Vignettes from Nature.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Colin Clout's Calendar.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Strange Stories.</b> With a Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">George Du Maurier</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Beckoning Hand.</b> With a Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Townley Green</span>.</p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Babylon</b>: A Romance.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>In all Shades.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>For Malmie's Sake</b>: A Tale of Love and Dynamite.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Devil's Die.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Philistia.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. boards, +<b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>This Mortal Coil.</b> Three Vols., crown 8vo.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Architectural Styles, A Handbook of.</b> Translated from the German of <span class="smcap">A. +Rosengarten</span>, by <span class="smcap">W. Collett-Sandars</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with 639 +Illustrations, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Arnold.—Bird Life in England.</b><br /> +By <span class="smcap">Edwin Lester Arnold</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth +extra <b>6s.</b></p><p><span class="pagenum">[2]</span></p> + +<p class="nsb"><b>Artemus Ward:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Artemus Ward's Works</b>: The Works of <span class="smcap">Charles Farrer Browne</span>, better known +as <span class="smcap">Artemus Ward</span>. With Portrait and Facsimile. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, +<b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Genial Showman</b>: Life and Adventures of Artemus Ward. By <span class="smcap">Edward P. +Hingston</span>. With a Frontispiece. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Art (The) of Amusing</b>: A Collection of Graceful Arts, Games, Tricks, +Puzzles, and Charades. By <span class="smcap">Frank Bellew</span>. With 300 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="nsb"><b>Ashton (John), Works by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A History of the Chap-Books of the Eighteenth Century.</b> With nearly 400 +Illustrations, engraved in facsimile of the originals.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne.</b> From Original Sources. With +nearly 100 Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Humour, Wit, and Satire of the Seventeenth Century.</b> With nearly 100 +Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon the First.</b> With 115 +Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Modern Street Ballads.</b> With 57 Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ns">⁂ Also a Large Paper Edition of the last (only 100 +printed: all numbered), bound in half-parchment. The price of the +special copies may be learned from any Bookseller.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Bacteria.—A Synopsis of the Bacteria and Yeast Fungi and Allied +Species.</b> By <span class="smcap">W.B. Grove</span>, B.A. With 87 Illusts. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, <b>3s. +6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Bankers, A Handbook of London</b>; together with Lists of Bankers from 1677. +By <span class="smcap">F.G. Hilton Price</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Bardsley.—English Surnames</b>: Their Sources and Significations. By Rev. +<span class="smcap">C.W. Bardsley</span>, M.A. Third Edition, revised. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. +6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Bartholomew Fair, Memoirs of.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry Morley</span>. With 100 Illusts. Crown +8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Beaconsfield, Lord</b>: A Biography. By <span class="smcap">T.P. O'Connor</span>, M.P. Sixth Edition, +with a New Preface. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Beauchamp.—Grantley Grange</b>: A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Shelsley Beauchamp</span>. Post 8vo, +illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Beautiful Pictures by British Artists</b>: A Gathering of Favourites from +our Picture Galleries. All engraved on Steel in the highest style of +Art. Edited, with Notices of the Artists, by <span class="smcap">Sydney Armytage</span>, M.A. +Imperial 4to, cloth extra, gilt and gilt edges, <b>21s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Bechstein.—As Pretty as Seven</b>, and other German Stories. Collected by +<span class="smcap">Ludwig Bechstein</span>. With Additional Tales by the Brothers <span class="smcap">Grimm</span>, and 100 +Illusts. by <span class="smcap">Richter</span>. Small 4to, green and gold, <b>6s. 6d.</b>; gilt edges, <b>7s. +6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Beerbohm.—Wanderings in Patagonia</b>; or, Life among the Ostrich Hunters. +By <span class="smcap">Julius Beerbohm</span>. With Illusts. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Belgravia for 1888.</b> One Shilling Monthly. Two New Serial Stories began +in <span class="smcap">Belgravia</span> for <span class="smcap">January</span>, and will be continued through the year: +<b>Undercurrents</b>, by the Author of "Phyllis;" and <b>The Blackhall Ghosts</b>, by +<span class="smcap">Sarah Tytler</span>.</p> + +<p class="ns">⁂ <i>Bound Volumes from the beginning are kept in stock, cloth +extra, gilt edges,</i> <b>7s. 6d.</b> <i>each; cases for binding Vols.,</i> <b>2s.</b> <i>each.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Belgravia Holiday Number</b>, published Annually in <span class="smcap">July</span>; and <b>Belgravia +Annual</b>, published Annually in <span class="smcap">November</span>. Each Complete in itself. Demy +8vo, with Illustrations, <b>1s.</b> each.</p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Bennett (W.C., LL.D.), Works by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Ballad History of England.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Songs for Sailors.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Besant (Walter) and James Rice, Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. +6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b> each; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Ready-Money Mortiboy.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>With Harp and Crown.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>This Son of Vulcan.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>My Little Girl.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Case of Mr. Lucraft.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Golden Butterfly.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>By Celia's Arbour.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Monks of Thelema.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>'Twas In Trafalgar's Bay.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Seamy Side.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Ten Years' Tenant.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Chaplain of the Fleet.</b></p><p><span class="pagenum">[3]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Besant (Walter), Novels by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b> each; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>All Sorts and Conditions of Men</b>: An Impossible Story. With Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">Fred. Barnard</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Captains' Room, &c.</b> With Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">E.J. Wheeler</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>All In a Garden Fair.</b> With 6 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Harry Furniss</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Dorothy Forster.</b> With Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Charles Green</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Uncle Jack</b>, and other Stories.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Children of Gibeon.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The World Went Very Well Then.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">A. Forestier</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Herr Paulus</b>: His Rise, his Greatness, and his Fall.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Fifty Years Ago.</b> With One Hundred and Thirty-seven full-page Plates and +Woodcuts. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>16s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Eulogy of Richard Jefferies</b>: A Memoir. With Photograph Portrait. Cr. +8vo, cl. extra, <b>6s.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>For Faith and Freedom.</b> Three Vols., crown 8vo. [<i>Shortly.</i></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Art of Fiction.</b> Demy 8vo, <b>1s.</b></p> + +<div class="center"><br /><b>Library Edition of the Novels of Besant and Rice.</b></div> +<p class="ns"><i>The Volumes are printed from new type on a large crown 8vo page, and +handsomely bound in cloth. Price Six Shillings each.</i></p> +<table style="margin-left: 0px;" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td valign="top" align="right">1.</td><td class="th1"><b>Ready-Money Mortiboy.</b> With Portrait of <span class="smcap">James Rice</span>, etched by <span class="smcap">Daniel +A. Wehrschmidt</span>, and a New Preface by <span class="smcap">Walter Besant</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">2.</td><td class="th1"><b>My Little Girl.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">3.</td><td class="th1"><b>With Harp and Crown.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">4.</td><td class="th1"><b>This Son of Vulcan.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">5.</td><td class="th1"><b>The Golden Butterfly.</b> With Etched Portrait of <span class="smcap">Walter Besant</span>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">6.</td><td class="th1"><b>The Monks of Thelema.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">7.</td><td class="th1"><b>By Celia's Arbour.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">8.</td><td class="th1"><b>The Chaplain of the Fleet.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">9.</td><td class="th1"><b>The Seamy Side.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">10.</td><td class="th1"><b>The Case of Mr. Lucraft</b>, &c.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">11.</td><td class="th1"><b>'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay</b>, &c.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">12.</td><td class="th1"><b>The Ten Years' Tenant</b>, &c.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Betham-Edwards (M.), Novels by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Felicia.</b> Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Kitty.</b> Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Bewick (Thomas) and his Pupils.</b> By <span class="smcap">Austin Dobson</span>. With 95 Illusts. +Square 8vo, cloth extra, <b>10s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Birthday Books</b>:—</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Starry Heavens</b>: A Poetical Birthday Book. Square 8vo, handsomely +bound in cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Lowell Birthday Book.</b> With Illusts. Small 8vo, cloth extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Blackburn's (Henry) Art Handbooks.</b> Demy 8vo, Illustrated, uniform in +size for binding.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Academy Notes</b>, separate years, from <b>1876 to 1887</b>, each <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Academy Notes, 1888.</b> With numerous Illustrations. <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Academy Notes, 1880-84.</b> Complete in One Volume, with about 700 Facsimile +Illustrations. Cloth limp, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Grosvenor Notes, 1877,</b> <b>6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Grosvenor Notes</b>, separate years, from <b>1878 to 1887</b>, each <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Grosvenor Notes, 1888.</b> With numerous Illusts., <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Grosvenor Notes</b>, Vol. I., <b>1877-82</b>. With upwards of 300 Illustrations. +Demy 8vo, cloth limp, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Grosvenor Notes</b>, Vol. II., <b>1883-87</b>. With upwards of 300 Illustrations. +Demy 8vo, cloth limp, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The New Gallery, 1888.</b> With numerous Illustrations, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The English Pictures at the National Gallery.</b> 114 Illustrations, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Old Masters at the National Gallery.</b> 128 Illustrations, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Complete Illustrated Catalogue to the National Gallery.</b> With Notes by +<span class="smcap">H. Blackburn</span>, and 242 Illusts. Demy 8vo, cloth limp, <b>3s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Paris Salon, 1888.</b> With 300 Facsimile Sketches, Demy 8vo, <b>3s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Blake (William)</b>: Etchings from his Works. By <span class="smcap">W.B. Scott</span>. With +descriptive Text. Folio, half-bound boards, India Proofs, <b>21s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Boccaccio's Decameron</b>; or, Ten Days' Entertainment. Translated into +English, with an Introduction by <span class="smcap">Thomas Wright</span>, F.S.A. With Portrait and +Stothard's beautiful Copperplates, Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Bourne (H.R. Fox), Works by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>English Merchants</b>: Memoirs in Illustration of the Progress of British +Commerce. With numerous Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>English Newspapers</b>: Chapters in the History of Journalism. Two Vols., +demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>25s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Bowers' (G.) Hunting Sketches</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Oblong 4to, half-bound boards, <b>21s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Canters in Crampshire.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Leaves from a Hunting Journal.</b> Coloured in facsimile of the originals.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[4]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Boyle (Frederick), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Camp Notes</b>: Stories of Sport and Adventure in Asia, Africa, America.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Savage Life</b>: Adventures of a Globe-Trotter.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Chronicles of No-Man's Land.</b> Post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Brand's Observations on Popular Antiquities</b>, chiefly Illustrating the +Origin of our Vulgar Customs, Ceremonies, and Superstitions. With the +Additions of Sir <span class="smcap">Henry Ellis</span>. Crown 8vo, with Illustrations, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Bret Harte, Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Bret Harte's Collected Works.</b> Arranged and Revised by the Author. +Complete in Five Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3">Vol. I. <span class="smcap">Complete Poetical and Dramatic Works.</span> With Steel Portrait, and +Introduction by Author.</p> +<p class="ph3">Vol. II. <span class="smcap">Earlier Papers—Luck of Roaring Camp</span>, and other +Sketches—<span class="smcap">Bohemian Papers—Spanish and American Legends.</span></p> +<p class="ph3">Vol. III. <span class="smcap">Tales of the Argonauts—Eastern Sketches.</span></p> +<p class="ph3">Vol. IV. <span class="smcap">Gabriel Conroy</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3">Vol. V. <span class="smcap">Stories—Condensed Novels,</span> &c.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Select Works of Bret Harte</b>, in Prose and Poetry. With Introductory +Essay by J.M. <span class="smcap">Bellew</span>, Portrait of the Author, and 50 Illustrations. +Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Bret Harte's Complete Poetical Works.</b> Author's Copyright Edition. +Printed on hand-made paper and bound in buckram. Cr. 8vo, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Gabriel Conroy</b>: A Novel. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>An Heiress of Red Dog</b>, and other Stories. Post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Twins of Table Mountain.</b> Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Luck of Roaring Camp</b>, and other Sketches. Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Jeff Briggs's Love Story.</b> Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Flip.</b> Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b>; cl. <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Californian Stories</b> (including <span class="smcap">The Twins of Table Mountain, Jeff +Briggs's Love Story</span>, &c.) Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Maruja</b>: A Novel. Post 8vo, illust. boards, 2s.: cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Queen of the Pirate Isle.</b> With 28 original Drawings by <span class="smcap">Kate +Greenaway</span>. Reproduced in Colours by <span class="smcap">Edmund Evans</span>. Sm. 4to, bds., <b>5s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Phyllis of the Sierras</b>, &c. Post 8vo, Illust. bds., 2s.; cloth limp, +<b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Brewer (Rev. Dr.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Reader's Handbook of Allusions, References, Plots, and Stories.</b> +Twelfth Thousand. With Appendix, containing a <span class="smcap">Complete English +Bibliography</span>. Cr. 8vo, cloth <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Authors and their Works, with the Dates</b>: Being the Appendices to "The +Reader's Handbook," separately printed. Cr. 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Dictionary of Miracles</b>: Imitative, Realistic, and Dogmatic. Crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b>; half-bound, <b>9s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Brewster (Sir David), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>More Worlds than One</b>: The Creed of the Philosopher and the Hope of the +Christian. With Plates. Post 8vo, cloth extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Martyrs of Science</b>: Lives of <span class="smcap">Galileo, Tycho Brahe, and Kepler</span>. With +Portraits. Post 8vo, cloth extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Letters on Natural Magic.</b> A New Edition, with numerous Illustrations, +and Chapters on the Being and Faculties of Man, and Additional Phenomena +of Natural Magic, by J.A. <span class="smcap">Smith</span>. Post 8vo, cl. ex., <b>4s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Brillat-Savarin.—Gastronomy as a Fine Art.</b> By <span class="smcap">Brillat-Savarin</span>. +Translated by R.E. <span class="smcap">Anderson</span>, M.A. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Brydges.—Uncle Sam at Home.</b> By <span class="smcap">Harold Brydges</span>. Post 8vo, illust. +boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Buchanan's (Robert) Works:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Ballads of Life, Love, and Humour.</b> With a Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Arthur Hughes</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Selected Poems of Robert Buchanan.</b> With a Frontispiece by T. <span class="smcap">Dalziel</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Earthquake</b>: or, Six Days and a Sabbath.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The City of Dream</b>: An Epic Poem. With Two Illusts. by P. <span class="smcap">Macnab</span>. Second +Edition.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Robert Buchanan's Complete Poetical Works.</b> With Steel-plate Portrait. +Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Shadow of the Sword.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Child of Nature.</b> With a Frontispiece.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>God and the Man.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Fred. Barnard</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Martyrdom of Madeline.</b> With Frontispiece by A.W. <span class="smcap">Cooper</span>.</p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[5]</span></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Love Me for Ever.</b> With a Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">P. Macnab</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Annan Water.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The New Abelard.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Foxglove Manor.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Matt</b>: A Story of a Caravan.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Master of the Mine.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Heir of Linne.</b> Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Burnett (Mrs.), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Surly Tim</b>, and other Stories. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Kathleen Mavourneen.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Lindsay's Luck.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Pretty Polly Pemberton.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Burton (Captain).—The Book of the Sword:</b> Being a History of the Sword +and its Use in all Countries, from the Earliest Times. By <span class="smcap">Richard F. +Burton</span>. With over 400 Illustrations. Square 8vo, cloth extra, <b>32s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Burton (Robert):</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Anatomy of Melancholy.</b> A New Edition, complete, corrected and +enriched by Translations of the Classical Extracts. Demy 8vo, cloth +extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Melancholy Anatomised</b>: Being an Abridgment, for popular use, of <span class="smcap">Burton's +Anatomy of Melancholy</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Byron (Lord):</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Byron's Letters and Journals.</b> With Notices of his Life. By <span class="smcap">Thomas Moore</span>. +Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Prose and Verse</b>, Humorous, Satirical, and Sentimental, by <span class="smcap">Thomas Moore</span>; +with Suppressed Passages from the Memoirs of Lord Byron. Edited, with +Notes and Introduction, by <span class="smcap">R. Herne Shepherd</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, +<b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Caine (T. Hall), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Shadow of a Crime.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Son of Hagar.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Deemster</b>: A Romance of the Isle of Man. Fourth Edition, crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Cameron (Commander).—The Cruise of the "Black Prince" Privateer</b>, +Commanded by <span class="smcap">Robert Hawkins</span>, Master Mariner. By <span class="smcap">V. Lovett Cameron</span>, R.N., +C.B., D.C.L. With Frontispiece and Vignette by P. <span class="smcap">Macnab</span>. Crown 8vo, cl. +ex., <b>5s.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Cameron (Mrs. H. Lovett), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> +each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Juliet's Guardian.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Deceivers Ever.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Carlyle (Thomas):</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>On the Choice of Books.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas Carlyle</span>. With a Life +of the Author by <span class="smcap">R.H. Shepherd</span>. New and Revised Edition, post 8vo, cloth +extra, Illustrated, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Correspondence of Thomas Carlyle and Ralph Waldo Emerson</b>, 1834 to +1872. Edited by <span class="smcap">Charles Eliot Norton</span>. With Portraits. Two Vols., crown +8vo, cloth extra, <b>24s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Chapman's (George) Works:</b> Vol. I. contains the Plays complete, including +the doubtful ones. Vol. II., the Poems and Minor Translations, with an +Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">Algernon Charles Swinburne</span>. Vol. III., the +Translations of the Iliad and Odyssey. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth +extra, <b>18s.</b>; or separately, <b>6s.</b> each.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Chatto & Jackson.—A Treatise on Wood Engraving</b>, Historical and +Practical. By <span class="smcap">Wm. Andrew Chatto</span> and <span class="smcap">John Jackson</span>. With an Additional +Chapter by <span class="smcap">Henry G. Bohn</span>; and 450 fine Illustrations. A Reprint of the +last Revised Edition. Large 4to, half-bound, <b>28s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Chaucer:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Chaucer for Children</b>: A Golden Key. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">H.R. Haweis</span>. With Eight +Coloured Pictures and numerous Woodcuts by the Author. New Ed., small +4to, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Chaucer for Schools.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">H.R. Haweis</span>. Demy 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Chronicle (The) of the Coach:</b> Charing Cross to Ilfracombe. By <span class="smcap">J.D. +Champlin</span>. With 75 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Edward L. Chichester</span>. Square 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Clodd.—Myths and Dreams.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edward Clodd</span>, F.R.A.S., Author of "The +Story of Creation," &c. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Cobban.—The Cure of Souls:</b> A Story. By <span class="smcap">J. Maclaren Cobban</span>. Post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Coleman (John), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Curly</b>: An Actor's Story. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">J.C. Dollman</span>. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; +cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Players and Playwrights I have Known.</b> Two Vols., demy 8vo, cloth extra, +<b>24s.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i></p><p><span class="pagenum">[6]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Collins (Wilkie), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b> 3s. 6d.</b> each; post +8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each; cloth limp, <b> 2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Antonina.</b> Illust. by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Basil.</b> Illustrated by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span> and J. <span class="smcap">Mahoney</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Hide and Seek.</b> Illustrated by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span> and J. <span class="smcap">Mahoney</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Dead Secret.</b> Illustrated by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Queen of Hearts.</b> Illustrated by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>My Miscellanies.</b> With a Steel-plate Portrait of <span class="smcap">Wilkie Collins</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Woman in White.</b> With Illustrations by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span> and F.A. +<span class="smcap">Fraser</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Moonstone.</b> With Illustrations by G. <span class="smcap">Du Maurier</span> and F.A. <span class="smcap">Fraser</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Man and Wife.</b> Illust. by W. <span class="smcap">Small</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Poor Miss Finch.</b> Illustrated by G. <span class="smcap">Du Maurier</span> and <span class="smcap">Edward Hughes.</span></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Miss or Mrs.?</b> With Illustrations by S.L. <span class="smcap">Fildes</span> and <span class="smcap">Henry Woods</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The New Magdalen.</b> Illustrated by G. <span class="smcap">Du Maurier</span> and C.S. <span class="smcap">Reinhardt</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Frozen Deep.</b> Illustrated by G. <span class="smcap">Du Maurier</span> and J. <span class="smcap">Mahoney</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Law and the Lady.</b> Illustrated By S.L. <span class="smcap">Fildes</span> and <span class="smcap">Sydney Hall</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Two Destinies.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Haunted Hotel.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Arthur Hopkins</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Fallen Leaves.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Jezebel's Daughter.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Black Robe.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Heart and Science:</b> A Story of the Present Time.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>"I Say No."</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Evil Genius.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Little Novels.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b> 3s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Legacy of Cain.</b> Three Vols., crown 8vo. [<i>Dec.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Collins (Mortimer), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; +post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Sweet Anne Page.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Transmigration.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>From Midnight to Midnight.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Fight with Fortune.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Collins (Mortimer & Frances), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b> 3s. 6d.</b> +each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Blacksmith and Scholar.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Village Comedy.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>You Play Me False.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Sweet and Twenty.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Frances.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Collins (C. Allston).—The Bar Sinister:</b> A Story. By C. <span class="smcap">Allston Collins</span>. +Post 8vo, illustrated bds., <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Colman's Humorous Works:</b> "Broad Grins," "My Nightgown and Slippers," and +other Humorous Works, Prose and Poetical, of <span class="smcap">George Colman</span>. With Life by +G.B. <span class="smcap">Buckstone</span>, and Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Hogarth</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, +gilt, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Colquhoun.—Every Inch a Soldier:</b> A Novel. By M.J. <span class="smcap">Colquhoun</span>. Cheaper +Edition. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Convalescent Cookery:</b> A Family Handbook. By <span class="smcap">Catherine Ryan</span>. Crown 8vo, +<b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Conway (Moncure D.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Demonology and Devil-Lore.</b> Two Vols., +royal 8vo, with 65 Illusts., <b>28s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Necklace of Stories.</b> Illustrated by W.J. <span class="smcap">Hennessy</span>. Square 8vo, cloth +extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Pine and Palm:</b> A Novel. Cheaper Edition. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, +<b>2s.</b> [<i>Preparing.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Cook (Dutton), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Leo. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Paul Foster's Daughter. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Copyright.—A Handbook of English and Foreign Copyright In Literary and +Dramatic Works.</b> By <span class="smcap">Sidney Jerrold</span>. Post 8vo, cl., <b> 2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Cornwall.—Popular Romances of the West of England;</b> or, The Drolls, +Traditions, and Superstitions of Old Cornwall. Collected and Edited by +<span class="smcap">Robert Hunt</span>, F.R.S. New and Revised Edition, with Additions, and Two +Steel-plate Illustrations by <span class="smcap">George Cruikshank</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, +<b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Craddock.—The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Egbert +Craddock</span>. Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b>; cloth limp, <b> 2s. 6d.</b></p><p><span class="pagenum">[7]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Cruikshank (George):</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Comic Almanack.</b> Complete in <span class="smcap">Two Series</span>: The <span class="smcap">First</span> from 1835 to 1843; +the <span class="smcap">Second</span> from 1844 to 1853. A Gathering of the <span class="smcap">Best Humour of +Thackeray, Hood, Mayhew, Albert Smith, A'Beckett, Robert Brough</span>, &c. +With 2,000 Woodcuts and Steel Engravings by <span class="smcap">Cruikshank, Hine, Landells</span>, +&c. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, two very thick volumes, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Life of George Cruikshank.</b> By <span class="smcap">Blanchard Jerrold</span>, Author of "The Life +of Napoleon III.," &c. With 84 Illustrations. New and Cheaper Edition, +enlarged, with Additional Plates, and a very carefully compiled +Bibliography. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Cumming (C.F. Gordon), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>8s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>In the Hebrides.</b> With Autotype Facsimile and numerous full-page Illusts.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>In the Himalayas and on the Indian Plains.</b> With numerous Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Via Cornwall to Egypt.</b> With a Photogravure Frontispiece. Demy 8vo, cloth +extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Cussans.—Handbook of Heraldry;</b> with Instructions for Tracing Pedigrees +and Deciphering Ancient MSS., &c. By <span class="smcap">John E. Cussans</span>. Entirely New and +Revised Edition, illustrated with over 400 Woodcuts and Coloured Plates. +Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Cyples.—Hearts of Gold:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">William Cyples</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth +extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Daniel.—Merrie England In the Olden Time.</b> By <span class="smcap">George Daniel</span>. With +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Robt. Cruikshank</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Daudet.—The Evangelist;</b> or, Port Salvation. By <span class="smcap">Alphonse Daudet</span>. +Translated by <span class="smcap">C. Harry Meltzer</span>. With Portrait of the Author. Crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b> 3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Davenant.—Hints for Parents on the Choice of a Profession or Trade for +their Sons.</b> By <span class="smcap">Francis Davenant</span>, M.A. Post 8vo,<b>1s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Davies (Dr. N.E.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b> each; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>One Thousand Medical Maxims.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Nursery Hints</b>: A Mother's Guide.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Aids to Long Life.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>2s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Davies' (Sir John) Complete Poetical Works,</b> including Psalms I. to L. in +Verse, and other hitherto Unpublished MSS., for the first time Collected +and Edited, with Memorial-Introduction and Notes, by the Rev. <span class="smcap">A.B. +Grosart</span>, D.D. Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth boards, <b>12s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>De Maistre.—A Journey Round My Room.</b> By <span class="smcap">Xavier de Maistre</span>. Translated +by <span class="smcap">Henry Attwell</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>De Mille.—A Castle in Spain:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">James de Mille</span>. With a +Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. bds., +<b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Derwent (Leith), Novels by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post +8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Our Lady of Tears.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Circe's Lovers.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Dickens (Charles), Novels by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Sketches by Boz.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Nicholas Nickleby.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Pickwick Papers.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Oliver Twist.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Speeches of Charles Dickens 1841-1870.</b> With a New Bibliography, +revised and enlarged. Edited and Prefaced by <span class="smcap">Richard Herne Shepherd</span>. Cr. +8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b>—Also a <span class="smcap">Smaller Edition</span>, in the <i>Mayfair Library</i>. +Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>About England with Dickens.</b> By <span class="smcap">Alfred Rimmer</span>. With 57 Illustrations by +<span class="smcap">C.A. Vanderhoof</span>, <span class="smcap">Alfred Rimmer</span>, and others. Sq. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. +6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Dictionaries:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Dictionary of Miracles</b>: Imitative, Realistic, and Dogmatic. By the +Rev. <span class="smcap">E.C. Brewer</span>, LL.D. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b>; hf.-bound, <b>9s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Reader's Handbook of Allusions, References, Plots, and Stories.</b> By +the Rev. <span class="smcap">E.C. Brewer</span>, LL.D. With an Appendix, containing a Complete +English Bibliography. Eleventh Thousand. Crown 8vo, 1,400 pages, cloth +extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Authors and their Works, with the Dates.</b> Being the Appendices to "The +Reader's Handbook," separately printed. By the Rev. Dr. <span class="smcap">Brewer</span>. Crown +8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[8]</span></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Familiar Short Sayings of Great Men.</b> With Historical and Explanatory +Notes. By <span class="smcap">Samuel A. Bent</span>, M.A. Fifth Edition, revised and enlarged. Cr. +8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Dictionary of the Drama</b>: Being a comprehensive Guide to the Plays, +Playwrights, Players, and Playhouses of the United Kingdom and America, +from the Earliest to the Present Times. By <span class="smcap">W. Davenport Adams</span>. A thick +volume, crown 8vo, half-bound, <b>12s. 6d.</b> [<i>In preparation.</i></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Slang Dictionary</b>: Etymological, Historical, and Anecdotal. Crown +8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Women of the Day</b>: A Biographical Dictionary. By <span class="smcap">Frances Hays</span>. Cr. 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Words, Facts, and Phrases</b>: A Dictionary of Curious, Quaint, and +Out-of-the-Way Matters. By <span class="smcap">Eliezer Edwards</span>. New and Cheaper Issue. Cr. +8vo, cl. ex., <b>7s. 6d.</b>; hf.-bd., <b>9s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Diderot.—The Paradox of Acting.</b> Translated, with Annotations, from +Diderot's "Le Paradoxe sur le Comédien," by <span class="smcap">Walter Herries Pollock</span>. With +a Preface by <span class="smcap">Henry Irving</span>. Cr. 8vo, in parchment, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Dobson (W.T.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies, and Frolics.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Poetical Ingenuities and Eccentricities.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Doran.—Memories of our Great Towns;</b> with Anecdotic Gleanings concerning +their Worthies and their Oddities. By Dr. <span class="smcap">John Doran</span>, F.S.A. With 38 +Illusts. New and Cheaper Edit. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Drama, A Dictionary of the.</b> Being a comprehensive Guide to the Plays, +Playwrights, Players, and Playhouses of the United Kingdom and America, +from the Earliest to the Present Times. By <span class="smcap">W. Davenport Adams</span>. (Uniform +with <span class="smcap">Brewer's</span> "Reader's Handbook.") Crown 8vo, half-bound, <b>12s. 6d.</b> [<i>In +preparation.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Dramatists, The Old.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., Vignette Portraits, <b>6s.</b> per Vol.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Ben Jonson's Works.</b> With Notes Critical and Explanatory, and a +Biographical Memoir by <span class="smcap">Wm. Gifford</span>. Edit. by Col. <span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. 3 Vols.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Chapman's Works.</b> Complete in Three Vols. Vol. I. contains the Plays +complete, including doubtful ones; Vol. II., Poems and Minor +Translations, with Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">A.C. Swinburne</span>; Vol. III., +Translations of the Iliad and Odyssey.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Marlowe's Works.</b> Including his Translations. Edited, with Notes and +Introduction, by Col. <span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. One Vol.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Massinger's Plays.</b> From the Text of <span class="smcap">William Gifford</span>. Edited by Col. +<span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. One Vol.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Dyer.—The Folk-Lore of Plants.</b> By Rev. <span class="smcap">T.F. Thiselton Dyer</span>, M.A. Crown +8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Early English Poets.</b> Edited, with Introductions and Annotations, by Rev. +<span class="smcap">A.B. Grosart</span>, D.D. Crown 8vo, cloth boards, <b>6s.</b> per Volume.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Fletcher's (Giles, B.D.) Complete Poems.</b> One Vol.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Davies' (Sir John) Complete Poetical Works.</b> Two Vols.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Herrick's (Robert) Complete Collected Poems.</b> Three Vols.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Sidney's (Sir Philip) Complete Poetical Works.</b> Three Vols.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Herbert (Lord) of Cherbury's Poems.</b> Edit., with Introd., by J. <span class="smcap">Churton Collins</span>. Cr. 8vo, parchment, <b>8s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Edgcumbe.—Zephyrus:</b> A Holiday in Brazil and on the River Plate. By <span class="smcap">E.R. +Pearce Edgcumbe</span>. With 41 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Edwardes (Mrs. A.), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Point of Honour.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Archie Lovell.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. bds., +<b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Eggleston.—Roxy:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Edward Eggleston</span>. Post 8vo, illust. +boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Emanuel.—On Diamonds and Precious Stones:</b> their History, Value, and +Properties; with Simple Tests for ascertaining their Reality. By <span class="smcap">Harry +Emanuel</span>, F.R.G.S. With numerous Illustrations, tinted and plain. Crown +8vo, cloth extra, gilt, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Ewald (Alex. Charles, F.S.A.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Life and Times of Prince Charles Stuart</b>, Count of Albany, commonly +called the Young Pretender. From the State Papers and other Sources. New +and Cheaper Edition, with a Portrait, crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Stories from the State Papers.</b> With an Autotype Facsimile. Crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Studies Re-studied</b>: Historical Sketches from Original Sources. Demy 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>2s.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[9]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Englishman's House, The</b>: A Practical Guide to all interested in +Selecting or Building a House; with full Estimates of Cost, Quantities, +&c. By <span class="smcap">C.J. Richardson</span>. Fourth Edition. With Coloured Frontispiece and +nearly 600 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Eyes, Our: How to Preserve Them from Infancy to Old Age.</b> By <span class="smcap">John +Browning</span>, F.R.A.S., &c. Sixth Edition (Eleventh Thousand). With 58 +Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth,<b>1s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Familiar Short Sayings of Great Men.</b> By <span class="smcap">Samuel Arthur Bent</span>, A.M. Fifth +Edition, Revised and Enlarged. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Faraday (Michael), Works by</b>: Post 8vo, cloth extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Chemical History of a Candle</b>: Lectures delivered before a Juvenile +Audience at the Royal Institution. Edited by <span class="smcap">William Crookes</span>, F.C.S. +With numerous Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>On the Various Forces of Nature, and their Relations to each other</b>: +Lectures delivered before a Juvenile Audience at the Royal Institution. +Edited by <span class="smcap">William Cookes</span>, F.C.S. With numerous Illustrations.</p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Farrer (James Anson), Works by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Military Manners and Customs.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>War</b>: Three Essays, Reprinted from "Military Manners." Crown 8vo,<b>1s.</b>; +cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Fin-Bec.—The Cupboard Papers</b>: Observations on the Art of Living and +Dining. By <span class="smcap">Fin-Bec</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b> 2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Fireworks, The Complete Art of Making</b>; or, The Pyrotechnist's Treasury. +By <span class="smcap">Thomas Kentish</span>. With 267 Illustrations. A New Edition, Revised +throughout and greatly Enlarged. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Fitzgerald (Percy), Works by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The World Behind the Scenes.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b> 3s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Little Essays</b>: Passages from the Letters of <span class="smcap">Charles Lamb</span>. Post 8vo, +cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Day's Tour</b>: A Journey through France and Belgium. With Sketches in +facsimile of the Original Drawings. Crown 4to picture cover, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Fatal Zero</b>: A Homburg Diary. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b> 3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Bella Donna.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Never Forgotten.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Second Mrs. Tillotson.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Seventy-five Brooke Street Polly.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Lady of Brantome.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Fletcher's (Giles, B.D.) Complete Poems</b>: Christ's Victorie in Heaven, +Christ's Victorie on Earth, Christ's Triumph over Death, and Minor +Poems. With Memorial-Introduction and Notes by the Rev. <span class="smcap">A.B. Grosart</span>, +D.D. Cr. 8vo, cloth bds., <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Fonblanque.—Filthy Lucre: A Novel.</b> By <span class="smcap">Albany de Fonblanque</span>. Post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Francillon (R.E.), Novels by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post +8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>One by One.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Real Queen.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Queen Cophetua.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Olympia.</b> Post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Esther's Glove.</b> Fcap. 8vo, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>King or Knave</b>: A Novel. Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b> 3s. 6d.</b> + [<i>Shortly.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Frederic.—Seth's Brother's Wife</b>: A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Harold Frederic</span>. Cheaper +Edition. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>French Literature, History of</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry Van Laun</span>. Complete in 3 Vols., +demy 8vo, cl. bds., <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Frere.—Pandurang Hari</b>; or, Memoirs of a Hindoo. With a Preface by Sir +<span class="smcap">H. Bartle Frere</span>, G.C.S.I., &c. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b> 3s. 6d.</b>; post +8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Friswell.—One of Two</b>: A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Hain Friswell</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated +boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Frost (Thomas), Works by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Circus Life and Circus Celebrities.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Lives of the Conjurers.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Old Showmen and the Old London Fairs.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Fry's (Herbert) Royal Guide to the London Charities, 1887-8.</b> Showing +their Name, Date of Foundation, Objects, Income, Officials, &c. +Published Annually. Cr. 8vo, cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Gardening Books</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Year's Work in Garden and Greenhouse</b>: Practical Advice to Amateur +Gardeners as to the Management of the Flower, Fruit, and Frame Garden. +By <span class="smcap">George Glenny</span>. Post 8vo,<b>1s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[10]</span></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo,<b>1s.</b> each; cl. limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Our Kitchen Garden</b>: The Plants we Grow, and How we Cook Them. By <span class="smcap">Tom +Jerrold</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Household Horticulture</b>: A Gossip about Flowers. By <span class="smcap">Tom</span> and <span class="smcap">Jane Jerrold</span>. +Illustrated.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Garden that Paid the Rent.</b> By <span class="smcap">Tom Jerrold</span>.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>My Garden Wild</b>, and What I Grew there. By <span class="smcap">F.G. Heath</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth +extra, <b>5s.</b>; gilt edges, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Garrett.—The Capel Girls</b>: A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Edward Garrett</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., +<b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Gentleman's Magazine (The)</b> for 1888.<b>1s.</b> Monthly. In addition to the +Articles upon subjects in Literature, Science, and Art, for which this +Magazine has so high a reputation, "<b>Science Notes</b>," by <span class="smcap">W. Mattieu +Williams</span>, F.R.A.S., and "Table Talk," by <span class="smcap">Sylvanus Urban</span>, appear monthly.</p> +<p class="ns">⁂ <i>Bound Volumes for recent years are kept in stock, cloth +extra, price</i> <b>8s. 6d.</b> <i>each; Cases for binding,</i> <b>2s.</b> <i>each.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Gentleman's Annual (The).</b> Published Annually in November. In illuminated +cover. Demy 8vo,<b>1s.</b> The Number for 1888 is entitled "<b>By Devious Ways,</b>" +by <span class="smcap">T.W. Speight</span>.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>German Popular Stories.</b> Collected by the Brothers <span class="smcap">Grimm</span>, and Translated +by <span class="smcap">Edgar Taylor</span>. Edited, with an Introduction, by <span class="smcap">John Ruskin</span>. With 22 +Illustrations on Steel by <span class="smcap">George Cruikshank</span>. Square 8vo, cloth extra, +6s. 6d.; gilt edges, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Gibbon (Charles), Novels by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Robin Gray.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>What will the World Say?</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Queen of the Meadow.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Flower of the Forest.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>In Honour Bound.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Braes of Yarrow.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Heart's Problem.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Golden Shaft.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Of High Degree.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Loving a Dream.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>For Lack of Gold.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>For the King.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>In Pastures Green.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>In Love and War.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>By Mead and Stream.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Fancy Free.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Hard Knot.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Heart's Delight.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Gilbert (William), Novels by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Dr. Austin's Guests.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Wizard of the Mountain.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>James Duke, Costermonger.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Gilbert (W.S.), Original Plays</b> by: In Two Series, each complete in +itself, price <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph2">The <span class="smcap">First Series</span> contains—The Wicked World—Pygmalion and +Galatea—Charity—The Princess—The Palace of Truth—Trial by Jury.</p> +<p class="ph2">The <span class="smcap">Second Series</span> contains—Broken +Hearts—Engaged—Sweethearts—Gretchen—Dan'l Druce—Tom Cobb—H.M.S. +Pinafore—The Sorcerer—The Pirates of Penzance.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Eight Original Comic Operas.</b> Written by <span class="smcap">W.S. Gilbert</span>. Containing: The +Sorcerer—H.M.S. "Pinafore"—The Pirates of +Penzance—Iolanthe—Patience—Princess Ida—The Mikado—Trial by Jury. +Demy 8vo, cloth limp, <b> 2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Glenny.—A Year's Work in Garden and Greenhouse</b>: Practical Advice to +Amateur Gardeners as to the Management of the Flower, Fruit, and Frame +Garden. By <span class="smcap">George Glenny</span>. Post 8vo,<b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Godwin.—Lives of the Necromancers.</b> By <span class="smcap">William Godwin</span>. Post 8vo, limp, +<b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Golden Library, The</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Square 16mo (Tauchnitz size), cloth limp, <b>2s.</b> per Volume.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Bayard Taylor's Diversions of the Echo Club.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Bennett's (Dr. W.C.) Ballad History of England.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Bennett's (Dr.) Songs for Sailors.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Godwin's (William) Lives of the Necromancers.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Holmes's Autocrat of the Breakfast Table.</b> Introduction by <span class="smcap">Sala.</span></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Holmes's Professor at the Breakfast Table.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Hood's Whims and Oddities.</b> Complete. All the original Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Jesse's (Edward) Scenes and Occupations of a Country Life.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Lamb's Essays of Elia.</b> Both Series Complete in One Vol.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Leigh Hunt's Essays</b>: A Tale for a Chimney Corner, and other Pieces. With +Portrait, and Introduction by <span class="smcap">Edmund Ollier</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Mallory's (Sir Thomas) Mort d'Arthur</b>: The Stories of King Arthur and of +the Knights of the Round Table. Edited by <span class="smcap">B. Montgomerie Ranking.</span></p> +<p class="ph2">Square 16mo, <b>2s.</b> per Volume.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Pascal's Provincial Letters.</b> A New Translation, with Historical +Introduction and Notes, by <span class="smcap">T. M'Crie, D.D.</span></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Pope's Poetical Works.</b> Complete.</p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[11]</span></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Rochefoucauld's Maxims and Moral Reflections.</b> With Notes, and +Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">Sainte-Beuve</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>St. Pierre's Paul and Virginia, and The Indian Cottage.</b> Edited, with +Life, by the <span class="smcap">Rev. E. Clarke</span>.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Golden Treasury of Thought, The:</b> An <span class="smcap">Encyclopædia of Quotations</span> from +Writers of all Times and Countries. Selected and Edited by <span class="smcap">Theodore +Taylor</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt and gilt edges, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Graham.—The Professor's Wife:</b> A Story. By <span class="smcap">Leonard Graham</span>. Fcap. 8vo, +picture cover, <b>1s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Greeks and Romans, The Life of the,</b> Described from Antique Monuments. By +<span class="smcap">Ernst Guhl</span> and <span class="smcap">W. Koner</span>. Translated from the Third German Edition, and +Edited by Dr. <span class="smcap">F. Hueffer</span>. 545 Illusts. New and Cheaper Edition, large +crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Greenaway (Kate) and Bret Harte.—The Queen of the Pirate Isle.</b> By <span class="smcap">Bret +Harte</span>. With 25 original Drawings by <span class="smcap">Kate Greenaway</span>, Reproduced in +Colours by <span class="smcap">E. Evans</span>. Sm. 4to, bds., <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Greenwood (James), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Wilds of London.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Low-Life Deeps</b>: An Account of the Strange Fish to be Found There.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Dick Temple</b>: A Novel. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Habberton (John),</b> Author of "Helen's Babies," Novels by:</p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Brueton's Bayou.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Country Luck.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hair (The):</b> Its Treatment in Health, Weakness, and Disease. Translated +from the German of Dr. <span class="smcap">J. Pincus</span>. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Hake (Or, Thomas Gordon),</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Poems by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>New Symbols.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Legends of the Morrow.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Serpent Play.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Maiden Ecstasy.</b> Small 4to, cloth extra, <b>8s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hall.—Sketches of Irish Character.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">S.C. Hall</span>. With numerous +Illustrations on Steel and Wood by <span class="smcap">Maclise</span>, <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span>, <span class="smcap">Harvey</span>, and <span class="smcap">G. +Cruikshank</span>. Medium 8vo, Cloth extra, gilt. <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Halliday.—Every-day Papers.</b> By <span class="smcap">Andrew Halliday</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated +boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Handwriting, The Philosophy of.</b> With over 100 Facsimiles and Explanatory +Text. By <span class="smcap">Don Felix de Salamanca</span>. Post 8vo, cl. limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hanky-Panky:</b> A Collection of Very Easy Tricks, Very Difficult Tricks, +White Magic, Sleight of Hand, &c. Edited by <span class="smcap">W.H. Cremer</span>. With 200 +Illusts. Crown 8vo, cloth extra. <b>4s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hardy (Lady Duffus).—Paul Wynter's Sacrifice: A Story.</b> By Lady <span class="smcap">Duffus +Hardy</span>. Post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hardy (Thomas).—Under the Greenwood Tree.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas Hardy</span>, Author of +"Far from the Madding Crowd." With numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Harwood.—The Tenth Earl.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Berwick Harwood</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated +boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Haweis (Mrs. H.R.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Art of Dress.</b> With numerous +Illustrations. Small 8vo, illustrated cover, <b>1s.</b>; cloth limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Art of Beauty.</b> New and Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra. +Coloured Frontispiece and Illusts. <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Art of Decoration.</b> Square 8vo, handsomely bound and profusely +Illustrated, <b>10s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Chaucer for Children; A Golden Key.</b> With Eight Coloured Pictures and +numerous Woodcuts. New Edition, small 4to, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Chaucer for Schools.</b> Demy 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Haweis (Rev. H.R.).—American Humorists:</b> <span class="smcap">Washington Irving</span>, <span class="smcap">Oliver +Wendell Holmes</span>, <span class="smcap">James Russell Lowell</span>, <span class="smcap">Artemus Ward</span>, <span class="smcap">Mark Twain</span>, and <span class="smcap">Bret +Harte</span>. By Rev. <span class="smcap">H.R. Haweis</span>, M.A. Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hawthorne.—Tanglewood Tales</b> for Girls and Boys. By <span class="smcap">Nathaniel Hawthorne</span>. +With numerous fine Illustrations by <span class="smcap">George Wharton Edwards</span>. Large 4to, +cloth extra, <b>10s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Hawthorne (Julian), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; +post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Garth.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Ellice Quentin.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Fortune's Fool.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Sebastian Strome.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Dust.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Beatrix Randolph.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[12]</span></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Miss Cadogna.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Love—or a Name.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Prince Saroni's Wife.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Mrs. Gainsborough's Diamonds.</b> Fcap. 8vo, illustrated cover, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>David Poindexter's Disappearance.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Dream and a Forgetting.</b> By <span class="smcap">Julian Hawthorne</span>. Cr. 8vo, picture cover, +<b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hays.—Women of the Day:</b> A Biographical Dictionary of Notable +Contemporaries. By <span class="smcap">Frances Hays</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Heath (F.G.).—My Garden Wild,</b> and What I Grew There. By <span class="smcap">Francis George +Heath</span>, Author of "The Fern World," &c. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b>; cl. +gilt, gilt edges, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Helps (Sir Arthur), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b> 2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Animals and their Masters.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Social Pressure.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Ivan de Biron</b>: A Novel. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Henderson.—Agatha Page:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Isaac Henderson.</span> 2 Vols., crown +8vo. [<i>Shortly.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Herman.—One Traveller Returns:</b> A Romance. By <span class="smcap">Henry Herman</span> and <span class="smcap">D. +Christie Murray</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Herrick's (Robert) Hesperides,</b> Noble Numbers, and Complete Collected +Poems. With Memorial-Introduction and Notes by the Rev. <span class="smcap">A.B. Grosart</span>, +D.D., Steel Portrait, Index of First Lines, and Glossarial Index, &c. +Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth, <b>18s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Hesse-Wartegg (Chevalier Ernst von), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Tunis</b>: The Land and the People. With 12 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>3s. +6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The New South-West</b>: Travelling Sketches from Kansas, New Mexico, +Arizona, and Northern Mexico. With 100 fine Illustrations and Three +Maps. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>14s.</b> [<i>In preparation.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Herbert.—The Poems of Lord Herbert of Cherbury.</b> Edited, with +Introduction, by <span class="smcap">J. Churton Collins</span>. Crown 8vo, bound in parchment, <b>8s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Hindley (Charles), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings:</b> Including the +Origin of Signs, and Reminiscences connected with Taverns. Coffee +Houses, Clubs, &c. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack.</b> By One of the Fraternity. +Edited by <span class="smcap">Charles Hindley</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hoey.—The Lover's Creed.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Cashel Hoey</span>. With Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">P. +Macnab</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Holmes (O. Wendell), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">J. Gordon Thomson</span>. +Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b>—Another Edition in smaller type, with an +Introduction by <span class="smcap">G.A. Sala</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Professor at the Breakfast-Table;</b> with the Story of Iris. Post 8vo, +cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Holmes.—The Science of Voice Production and Voice Preservation:</b> A +Popular Manual for the Use of Speakers and Singers. By <span class="smcap">Gordon Holmes</span>, +M.D. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo,<b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Hood (Thomas):</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Hood's Choice Works</b>, in Prose and Verse. Including the Cream of the +<span class="smcap">Comic Annuals</span>. With Life of the Author, Portrait, and 200 Illustrations. +Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Hood's Whims and Oddities.</b> Complete. With all the original +Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Hood (Tom), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>From Nowhere to the North Pole</b>: A Noah's Arkæological Narrative. With 25 +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. Brunton</span> and <span class="smcap">E.C. Barnes</span>. Square crown 8vo, cloth +extra, gilt edges, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Golden Heart</b>: A Novel. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hook's (Theodore) Choice Humorous Works,</b> including his Ludicrous +Adventures, Bons Mots, Puns and Hoaxes. With a New Life of the Author, +Portraits, Facsimiles, and Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, gilt, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hooper.—The House of Raby:</b> A Novel. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">George Hooper</span>. Post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Horse (The) and his Rider:</b> An Anecdotic Medley. By "Thormanby." Crown +8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hopkins.—'Twixt Love and Duty: A Novel.</b> By <span class="smcap">Tighe Hopkins</span>. Crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>6s.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[13]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Horne.—Orion:</b> An Epic Poem, in Three Books. By <span class="smcap">Richard Hengist Horne</span>. +With Photographic Portrait from a Medallion by <span class="smcap">Summers</span>. Tenth Edition, +crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Hunt (Mrs. Alfred), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; +post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Thornicroft's Model.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Leaden Casket.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Self-Condemned.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>That other Person.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hunt.—Essays by Leigh Hunt.</b> A Tale for a Chimney Corner, and other +Pieces. With Portrait and Introduction by <span class="smcap">Edmund Ollier</span>. Post 8vo, cloth +limp, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Hydrophobia:</b> an Account of M. <span class="smcap">Pasteur's</span> System. Containing a Translation +of all his Communications on the Subject, the Technique of his Method, +and the latest Statistical Results. By <span class="smcap">Renaud Suzor</span>, M.B., C.M. Edin., +and M.D. Paris, Commissioned by the Government of the Colony of +Mauritius to study M. <span class="smcap">Pasteur's</span> new Treatment in Paris. With 7 Illusts. +Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Indoor Paupers.</b> By <span class="smcap">One of Them</span>. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Ingelow.—Fated to be Free:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth +extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Irish Wit and Humour, Songs of.</b> Collected and Edited by <span class="smcap">A. Perceval +Graves</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>James.—A Romance of the Queen's Hounds.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles James</span>. Post 8vo, +picture cover, <b>1s.</b>; cl., <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Janvier.—Practical Keramics for Students.</b> By <span class="smcap">Catherine A. Janvier</span>. +Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Jay (Harriett), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Dark Colleen.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Queen of Connaught.</b></p> + + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Jefferies (Richard), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Nature near London.</b> Crown 8vo, cl. ex., <b>6s.</b>; post 8vo, cl. limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Life of the Fields.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Open Air.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Eulogy of Richard Jefferies.</b> By <span class="smcap">Walter Besant</span>. With a Photograph +Portrait and facsimile of Signature. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>6s.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Jennings (H.J.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Curiosities of Criticism.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Lord Tennyson</b>: A Biographical Sketch. With a Photograph-Portrait. Crown +8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Jerrold (Tom), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, <b>1s.</b> each; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Garden that Paid the Rent.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Household Horticulture</b>: A Gossip about Flowers. Illustrated.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Our Kitchen Garden</b>: The Plants we Grow, and How we Cook Them.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Jesse.—Scenes and Occupations of a Country Life.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edward Jesse</span>. Post +8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Jeux d'Esprit.</b> Collected and Edited by <span class="smcap">Henry S. Leigh</span>. Post 8vo, cloth +limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>"John Herring," Novels by the Author of:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Red Spider.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Eve.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Jones (Wm., F.S.A.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Finger-Ring Lore</b>: Historical, Legendary, and Anecdotal. With over Two +Hundred Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Credulities, Past and Present</b>; including the Sea and Seamen, Miners, +Talismans, Word and Letter Divination, Exorcising and Blessing of +Animals, Birds, Eggs, Luck, &c. With an Etched Frontispiece.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Crowns and Coronations</b>: A History of Regalia in all Times and Countries. +One Hundred Illustrations.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Jonson's (Ben) Works.</b> With Notes Critical and Explanatory, and a +Biographical Memoir by <span class="smcap">William Gifford</span>. Edited by Colonel <span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. +Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>18s.</b>; or separately, <b>6s.</b> each.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Josephus, The Complete Works of.</b> Translated by <span class="smcap">Whiston</span>. Containing both +"The Antiquities of the Jews" and "The Wars of the Jews." Two Vols., +8vo, with 52 Illustrations and Maps, cloth extra, gilt, <b>14s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Kempt.—Pencil and Palette:</b> Chapters on Art and Artists. By <span class="smcap">Robert +Kempt</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Kershaw.—Colonial Facts and Fictions:</b> Humorous Sketches. By <span class="smcap">Mark +Kershaw</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>King (R. Ashe), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post +8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Drawn Game.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Wearing of the Green.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[14]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Kingsley (Henry), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Oakshott Castle.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Number Seventeen.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Knight.—The Patient's Vade Mecum:</b> How to get most Benefit from Medical +Advice. By <span class="smcap">William Knight</span>, M.R.C.S., and <span class="smcap">Edward Knight</span>, L.R.C.P. Crown +8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Lamb (Charles):</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Lamb's Complete Works</b>, in Prose and Verse, reprinted from the Original +Editions, with many Pieces hitherto unpublished. Edited, with Notes and +Introduction, by <span class="smcap">R.H. Shepherd</span>. With Two Portraits and Facsimile of Page +of the "Essay on Roast Pig." Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Essays of Ella.</b> Complete Edition. Post 8vo, cloth extra, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Poetry for Children, and Prince Dorus.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Lamb</span>. Carefully +reprinted from unique copies. Small 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Little Essays</b>: Sketches and Characters. By <span class="smcap">Charles Lamb</span>. Selected from +his Letters by <span class="smcap">Percy Fitzgerald</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Lane's Arabian Nights.—The Thousand and One Nights:</b> commonly called, in +England, "<span class="smcap">The Arabian Nights' Entertainments</span>." A New Translation from +the Arabic with copious Notes, by <span class="smcap">Edward William Lane</span>. Illustrated by +many hundred Engravings on Wood, from Original Designs by <span class="smcap">Wm. Harvey</span>. A +New Edition, from a Copy annotated by the Translator, edited by his +Nephew, <span class="smcap">Edward Stanley Poole</span>. With a Preface by <span class="smcap">Stanley Lane-Poole</span>. +Three Vols., demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Lares and Penates;</b> or, The Background of Life. By <span class="smcap">Florence Caddy</span>. Crown +8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Larwood (Jacob), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Story of the London Parks.</b> With Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Forensic Anecdotes.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Theatrical Anecdotes.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Leigh (Henry S.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Carols of Cockayne.</b> A New Edition, printed +on fcap. 8vo, hand-made paper, and bound in buckram, <b>5s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Jeux d'Esprit.</b> Collected and Edited by <span class="smcap">Henry S. Leigh</span>. Post 8vo, cloth +limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Leys.—The Lindsays:</b> A Romance of Scottish Life. By <span class="smcap">John K. Leys</span>. +Cheaper Edition. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Life in London;</b> or, The History of Jerry Hawthorn and Corinthian Tom. +With the whole of <span class="smcap">Cruikshank's</span> Illustrations, in Colours, after the +Originals. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Linskill.—In Exchange for a Soul.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mary Linskill</span>, Author of "The +Haven Under the Hill," &c. Cheaper Edit. Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Linton (E. Lynn), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Witch Stories.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The True Story of Joshua Davidson.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Ourselves: Essays on Women.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Patricia Kemball.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Atonement of Leam Dundas.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The World Well Lost.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Under which Lord?</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>"My Love!"</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Ione.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>With a Silken Thread.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Rebel of the Family.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Paston Carew, Millionaire and Miser.</b> Crown 8vo, cl. extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Longfellow's Poetical Works.</b> Carefully Reprinted from the Original +Editions. With numerous fine Illustrations on Steel and Wood. Crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Long Life, Aids to:</b> A Medical, Dietetic, and General Guide in Health and +Disease. By <span class="smcap">N.E. Davies</span>, L.R.C.P. Cr. 8vo, <b>2s.</b>; cl. limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Lucy.—Gideon Fleyce:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Henry W. Lucy</span>. Crown 8vo, cl. ex., <b>3s. +6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Lusiad (The) of Camoens.</b> Translated into English Spenserian Verse by +<span class="smcap">Robert French Duff</span>. Demy 8vo, with Fourteen full-page Plates, cloth +boards, <b>18s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Macalpine (Avery), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Teresa Itasca</b>, and other Stories. Crown 8vo, bound in canvas, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Broken Wings.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W.J. Hennessy</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth +extra, <b>6s.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[15]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>McCarthy (Justin, M.P.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A History of Our Own Times</b>, from the Accession of Queen Victoria to the +General Election of 1880. Four Vols. demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>12s.</b> +each.—Also a <span class="smcap">Popular Edition</span>, in Four Vols. cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>6s.</b> +each.—And a <span class="smcap">Jubilee Edition</span>, with an Appendix of Events to the end of +1886, complete in Two Vols., square 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Short History of Our Own Times.</b> One Vol., crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>History of the Four Georges.</b> Four Vols. demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>12s.</b> +each. [Vol. I. <i>now ready</i>.</p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Dear Lady Disdain.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Waterdale Neighbours.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Fair Saxon.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Miss Misanthrope.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Donna Quixote.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Comet of a Season.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Maid of Athens.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Camiola</b>: A Girl with a Fortune.</p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Linley Rochford.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>My Enemy's Daughter.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Right Honourable</b>: A Romance of Society and Politics. By <span class="smcap">Justin +McCarthy,</span> M.P., and Mrs. <span class="smcap">Campbell-Praed</span>. New and Cheaper Edition, crown +8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>McCarthy (Justin H., M.P.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>An Outline of the History of Ireland</b>, from the Earliest Times to the +Present Day. Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Ireland since the Union</b>: Sketches of Irish History from 1798 to 1886. +Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>England under Gladstone, 1880-85.</b> Second Edition, revised. Crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Doom!</b> An Atlantic Episode. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Our Sensation Novel.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">Justin H. McCarthy</span>. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; +cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Hafiz in London.</b> Choicely printed. Small 8vo, gold cloth, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Magician's Own Book (The):</b> Performances with Cups and Balls, Eggs, Hats, +Handkerchiefs, &c. All from actual Experience. Edited by <span class="smcap">W.H. Cremer</span>. +With 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>MacDonald.—Works of Fancy and Imagination.</b> By <span class="smcap">George Macdonald</span>, LL.D. +Ten Volumes, in handsome cloth case, 21s.—Vol. 1. <span class="smcap">Within and Without. +The Hidden Life.</span>—Vol. 2. <span class="smcap">The Disciple. The Gospel Women. A Book of +Sonnets, Organ Songs.</span>—Vol. 3. <span class="smcap">Violin Songs. Songs of the Days and +Nights. A Book of Dreams. Roadside Poems. Poems for Children.</span> Vol. 4. +<span class="smcap">Parables. Ballads. Scotch Songs.</span>—Vols. 5 and 6. <span class="smcap">Phantastes</span>: A Faerie +Romance.—Vol. 7. <span class="smcap">The Portent.</span>—Vol. 8. <span class="smcap">The Light Princess. The Giant's +Heart. Shadows.</span>—Vol. 9. <span class="smcap">Cross Purposes. The Golden Key. The Carasoyn. +Little Daylight.</span>—Vol. 10. <span class="smcap">The Cruel Painter. The Wow o' Rivven. The +Castle. The Broken Swords. The Gray Wolf. Uncle Cornelius.</span></p> +<p class="ns"><i>The Volumes are also sold separately in Grolier-pattern cloth</i>, <b>2s. 6d.</b> <i>each</i>.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Macdonell.—Quaker Cousins:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Agnes Macdonell</span>. Crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Macgregor.—Pastimes and Players.</b> Notes on Popular Games. By <span class="smcap">Robert +Macgregor</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Mackay.—Interludes and Undertones;</b> or, Music at Twilight. By <span class="smcap">Charles +Mackay</span>, LL.D. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Maclise Portrait-Gallery (The) of Illustrious Literary Characters;</b> with +Memoirs—Biographical, Critical, Bibliographical, and +Anecdotal—illustrative of the Literature of the former half of the +Present Century. By <span class="smcap">William Bates</span>, B.A. With 85 Portraits printed on an +India Tint. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Macquoid (Mrs.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Square 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>In the Ardennes.</b> With 50 fine Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Thomas R. Macquoid</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Pictures and Legends from Normandy and Brittany.</b> With numerous Illusts. +by <span class="smcap">Thomas R. Macquoid</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Through Normandy.</b> With 90 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">T.R. Macquoid</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Through Brittany.</b> With numerous Illustrations by <span class="smcap">T.R. Macquoid</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>About Yorkshire.</b> With 67 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">T.R. Macquoid</span>.</p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Evil Eye</b>, and other Stories.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Lost Rose.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[16]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Magic Lantern (The),</b> and its Management: including full Practical +Directions for producing the Limelight, making Oxygen Gas, and preparing +Lantern Slides. By T.C. <span class="smcap">Hepworth</span>. With 10 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; +cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Magna Charta.</b> An exact Facsimile of the Original in the British Museum, +printed on fine plate paper, 3 feet by 2 feet, with Arms and Seals +emblazoned in Gold and Colours. <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Mallock (W.H.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The New Republic</b>; or, Culture, Faith and Philosophy in an English +Country House. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b>; Cheap Edition, illustrated +boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The New Paul and Virginia</b>; or, Positivism on an Island. Post 8vo, cloth +limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Poems.</b> Small 4to, in parchment, <b>8s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Is Life worth Living?</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Mallory's (Sir Thomas) Mort d'Arthur:</b> The Stories of King Arthur and of +the Knights of the Round Table. Edited by <span class="smcap">B. Montgomerie Ranking</span>. Post +8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Man-Hunter (The):</b> Stories from the Note-book of a Detective. By <span class="smcap">Dick +Donovan</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b>; cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Mark Twain, Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Choice Works of Mark Twain.</b> Revised and Corrected throughout by the +Author. With Life, Portrait, and numerous Illust. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex, <b>7s. +6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Innocents Abroad</b>; or, The New Pilgrim's Progress: Being some Account +of the Steamship "Quaker City's" Pleasure Excursion to Europe and the +Holy Land. With 234 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. +6d.</b>—Cheap Edition (under the title of "<span class="smcap">Mark Twain's Pleasure Trip</span>"), +post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Roughing It</b>, and <b>The Innocents at Home</b>. With 200 Illustrations by F. <span class="smcap">A. +Fraser</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Gilded Age.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mark Twain</span> and <span class="smcap">Charles Dudley Warner</span>. With 212 +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">T. Coppin</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.</b> With 111 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth +extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b>—Cheap Edition post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Prince and the Pauper.</b> With nearly 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b>—Cheap Edition, post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Tramp Abroad.</b> With 314 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b>—Cheap +Edition, post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Stolen White Elephant, &c.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b>; post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Life on the Mississippi.</b> With about 300 Original Illustrations. Crown +8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b>—Cheap Edition, post 8vo, illustrated boards, +<b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.</b> With 174 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">E.W. +Kemble</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b>—Cheap Edition, post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Mark Twain's Library of Humour.</b> With numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Marlowe's Works.</b> Including his Translations. Edited, with Notes and +Introductions, by Col. <span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Marryat (Florence), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra. <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Open! Sesame!</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Written In Fire.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Harvest of Wild Oats.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Fighting the Air.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Massinger's Plays.</b> From the Text of <span class="smcap">William Gifford</span>. Edited by Col. +<span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Masterman.—Half a Dozen Daughters: A Novel.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Masterman</span>. Post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Matthews.—A Secret of the Sea, &c.</b> By <span class="smcap">Brander Matthews</span>. Post 8vo, +illust. bds., <b>2s.</b>; cloth, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Mayfair Library, The:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> per Volume.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Journey Round My Room.</b> By <span class="smcap">Xavier de Maistre</span>. Translated by <span class="smcap">Henry +Attwell</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Quips and Quiddities.</b> Selected by <span class="smcap">W. Davenport Adams</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Agony Column of "The Times,"</b> from 1800 to 1870. Edited, with an +Introduction, by <span class="smcap">Alice Clay</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Melancholy Anatomised</b>: A Popular Abridgment of "Burton's Anatomy of +Melancholy."</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Gastronomy as a Fine Art.</b> By <span class="smcap">Brillat-Savarin</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Speeches of Charles Dickens.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies, and Frolics.</b> By <span class="smcap">W.T. Dobson</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Poetical Ingenuities and Eccentricities.</b> Selected and Edited by <span class="smcap">W.T. +Dobson</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Cupboard Papers.</b> By <span class="smcap">Fin-Bec</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Original Plays</b> by <span class="smcap">W.S. Gilbert</span>. <span class="smcap">First Series.</span> Containing: The Wicked +World—Pygmalion and Galatea—Charity—The Princess—The Palace of +Truth—Trial by Jury.</p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[17]</span></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> per Vol.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Original Plays</b> by <span class="smcap">W.S. Gilbert</span>. <span class="smcap">Second Series.</span> Containing: Broken +Hearts—Engaged—Sweethearts—Gretchen—Dan'l Druce—Tom Cobb—H.M.S. +Pinafore—The Sorcerer—The Pirates of Penzance.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Songs of Irish Wit and Humour.</b> Collected and Edited by <span class="smcap">A. Perceval +Graves</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Animals and their Masters.</b> By Sir <span class="smcap">Arthur Helps</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Social Pressure.</b> By Sir <span class="smcap">A. Helps</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Curiosities of Criticism.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry J. Jennings</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table.</b> By <span class="smcap">Oliver Wendell Holmes</span>. +Illustrated by <span class="smcap">J. Gordon Thomson</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Pencil and Palette.</b> By <span class="smcap">Robert Kempt</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Little Essays</b>: Sketches and Characters. By <span class="smcap">Chas. Lamb</span>. Selected from his +Letters by <span class="smcap">Percy Fitzgerald</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Forensic Anecdotes</b>; or, Humour and Curiosities of the Law and Men of +Law. By <span class="smcap">Jacob Larwood</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Theatrical Anecdotes.</b> By <span class="smcap">Jacob Larwood</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Jeux d'Esprit.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">Henry S. Leigh</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>True History of Joshua Davidson.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. Lynn Linton</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Witch Stories.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. Lynn Linton</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Ourselves</b>: Essays on Women. By <span class="smcap">E. Lynn Linton</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Pastimes and Players.</b> By <span class="smcap">Robert Macgregor</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The New Paul and Virginia.</b> By <span class="smcap">W.H. Mallock</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>New Republic.</b> By <span class="smcap">W.H. Mallock</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Puck on Pegasus.</b> By <span class="smcap">H. Cholmondeley-Pennell</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Pegasus Re-Saddled.</b> By <span class="smcap">H. Cholmondeley-Pennell</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">George Du +Maurier</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Muses of Mayfair.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">H. Cholmondeley-Pennell</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Thoreau</b>: His Life and Aims. By <span class="smcap">H.A. Page</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Punlana.</b> By the Hon. <span class="smcap">Hugh Rowley</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>More Punlana.</b> By the Hon. <span class="smcap">Hugh Rowley</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Philosophy of Handwriting.</b> By <span class="smcap">Don Felix de Salamanca</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>By Stream and Sea.</b> By <span class="smcap">William Senior</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Old Stories Re-told.</b> By <span class="smcap">Walter Thornbury</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Leaves from a Naturalist's Note-Book.</b> By Dr. <span class="smcap">Andrew Wilson</span>.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Mayhew.—London Characters and the Humorous Side of London Life.</b> By +<span class="smcap">Henry Mayhew</span>. With numerous Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Medicine, Family.</b>—One Thousand Medical Maxims and Surgical Hints, for +Infancy, Adult Life, Middle Age, and Old Age. By <span class="smcap">N.E. Davies</span>, L.R.C.P. +Lond. Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cl., <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Menken.—Infelicia:</b> Poems by <span class="smcap">Adah Isaacs Menken</span>. A New Edition, with a +Biographical Preface, numerous Illustrations by <span class="smcap">F.E. Lummis</span> and <span class="smcap">F.O.C. +Darley</span>, and Facsimile of a Letter from <span class="smcap">Charles Dickens</span>. Beautifully +printed on small 4to ivory paper, with red border to each page, and +handsomely bound. Price <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Mexican Mustang (On a),</b> through Texas, from the Gulf to the Rio Grande. +A New Book of American Humour. By <span class="smcap">A.E. Sweet</span> and <span class="smcap">J. Armory Knox</span>, Editors +of "Texas Sittings." With 265 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Middlemass (Jean), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Touch and Go.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Mr. Dorillion.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Miller.—Physiology for the Young;</b> or, The House of Life: Human +Physiology, with its application to the Preservation of Health. For +Classes and Popular Reading. With numerous Illusts. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">F. Fenwick +Miller</span>. Small 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Milton (J.L.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Sm. 8vo, <b>1s.</b> each; cloth ex., <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Hygiene of the Skin.</b> A Concise Set of Rules for the Management of +the Skin; with Directions for Diet, Wines, Soaps, Baths, &c.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Bath in Diseases of the Skin.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Laws of Life</b>, and their Relation to Diseases of the Skin.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Molesworth (Mrs.).—Hathercourt Rectory.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Molesworth</span>, Author of +"The Cuckoo Clock," &c. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Moncrieff.—The Abdication;</b> or, Time Tries All. An Historical Drama. By +<span class="smcap">W.D. Scott-Moncrieff</span>. With Seven Etchings by <span class="smcap">John Pettie</span>, R.A., <span class="smcap">W.Q. +Orchardson</span>, R.A., <span class="smcap">J. MacWhirter</span>, A.R.A., <span class="smcap">Colin Hunter</span>, A.R.A., <span class="smcap">R. +Macbeth</span>, A.R.A., and <span class="smcap">Tom Graham</span>, R.S.A. Large 4to, bound in buckram, +<b>21s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Moore (Thomas):</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Byron's Letters and Journals</b>; with Notices of his Life. By <span class="smcap">Thomas Moore</span>. +Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Prose and Verse</b>, Humorous, Satirical, and Sentimental, by <span class="smcap">Thomas Moore</span>; +with Suppressed Passages from the Memoirs of Lord Byron. Edited, with +Notes and Introduction, by <span class="smcap">R. Herne Shepherd</span>. With a Portrait. Cr. 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[18]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Murray (D. Christie), Novels by.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; +post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Life's Atonement.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Joseph's Coat.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>By the Gate of the Sea.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Val Strange.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Way of the World.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Bit of Human Nature.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>First Person Singular.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Cynic Fortune.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Model Father.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Coals of Fire.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Hearts.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Old Blazer's Hero.</b> With Three Illustrations by <span class="smcap">A. McCormick</span>. Crown 8vo, +cloth ex., <b>6s.</b>—Cheaper Edition, post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b> + [<i>Shortly.</i></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>One Traveller Returns.</b> By <span class="smcap">D. Christie Murray</span> and <span class="smcap">H. Herman</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl. +ex., <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Novelists.—Half-Hours with the Best Novelists of the Century:</b> Choice +Readings from the finest Novels. Edited, with Critical and Biographical +Notes, by <span class="smcap">H.T. Mackenzie Bell</span>. Crown 8vo, cl. ex., <b>3s. 6d.</b> [<i>Preparing.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Nursery Hints:</b> A Mother's Guide in Health and Disease. By <span class="smcap">N.E. Davies</span>, +L.R.C.P. Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cl., <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>O'Connor.—Lord Beaconsfield:</b> A Biography. By <span class="smcap">T.P. O'Connor</span>, M.P. Sixth +Edition, with a New Preface, bringing the work down to the Death of Lord +Beaconsfield. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>O'Hanlon.—The Unforeseen:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Alice O'Hanlon</span>. New & Cheaper Ed. +Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Oliphant (Mrs.), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Whiteladies.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Arthur Hopkins</span> and <span class="smcap">H. Woods</span>. Crown +8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>4s. 6d.</b> each.; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Primrose Path.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Greatest Heiress in England.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>O'Reilly.—Phœbe's Fortunes:</b> A Novel. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Henry +Tuck</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>O'Shaughnessy (A.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Songs of a Worker.</b> Fcap. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Music and Moonlight.</b> Fcap. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Lays of France.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>10s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Ouida, Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Held in Bondage.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Strathmore.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Chandos.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Under Two Flags.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Cecil Castlemaine's Gage.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Idalia.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Tricotrin.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Puck.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Folle Farine.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Two Little Wooden Shoes.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Dog of Flanders.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Pascarel.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Signa.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Ariadne.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>In a Winter City.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Friendship.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Moths.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Bimbi.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Pipistrello.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>In Maremma.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Village Commune.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Wanda.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Frescoes.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Princess Napraxine.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Othmar.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Wisdom, Wit, and Pathos</b>, selected from the Works of <span class="smcap">Ouida</span> by <span class="smcap">F. Sydney +Morris</span>. Sm. cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Page (H.A.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Thoreau</b>: His Life and Aims: A Study. With Portrait. Post 8vo, cl. limp, +<b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Lights on the Way</b>: Some Tales within a Tale. By the late <span class="smcap">J.H. Alexander</span>, +B.A. Edited by <span class="smcap">H.A. Page</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Animal Anecdotes.</b> Arranged on a New Principle. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering in the Old Days (A History +of).</b> Showing the State of Political Parties and Party Warfare at the +Hustings and in the House of Commons from the Stuarts to Queen Victoria. +Illustrated from the original Political Squibs, Lampoons, Pictorial +Satires, and Popular Caricatures of the Time. By <span class="smcap">Joseph Grego</span>, Author of +"Rowlandson and his Works," "The Life of Gillray," &c. A New Edition, +crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Coloured Frontispiece and 100 +Illustrations, <b>7s. 6d.</b> [<i>Preparing.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Pascal's Provincial Letters.</b> A New Translation, with Historical +Introduction and Notes, by <span class="smcap">T. M'Crie</span>, D.D. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Patient's (The) Vade Mecum:</b> How to get most Benefit from Medical Advice. +By <span class="smcap">W. Knight</span>, M.R.C.S., and <span class="smcap">E. Knight</span>, L.R.C.P. Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cl. 1/6.</p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Paul Ferroll:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Paul Ferroll</b>: A Novel.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Payn (James), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Lost Sir Massingberd.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Walter's Word.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Less Black than we're Painted.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>By Proxy.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Under One Roof.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Confidential Agent.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>High Spirits.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[19]</span></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Some Private Views.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Grape from a Thorn.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>From Exile.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Talk of the Town.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Canon's Ward.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Kit</b>: A Memory.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Perfect Treasure.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Bentinck's Tutor.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Best of Husbands.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>For Cash Only.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>What He Cost Her.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Fallen Fortunes.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A County Family.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Woman's Vengeance.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Clyffards of Clyffe.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Family Scapegrace.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Foster Brothers.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Gwendoline's Harvest.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Humorous Stories.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Like Father, Like Son.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Marine Residence.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Married Beneath Him.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Mirk Abbey.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Two Hundred Pounds Reward.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Carlyon's Year.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Murphy's Master.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Cecil's Tryst.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Halves.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>At Her Mercy.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Found Dead.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Not Wooed, but Won.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Glow-Worm Tales.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Mystery of Mirbridge.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>In Peril and Privation</b>: Stories of Marine Adventure Re-told. A Book for +Boys. With numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Holiday Tasks.</b> Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, +<b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Paul.—Gentle and Simple.</b> By <span class="smcap">Margaret Agnes Paul</span>. With a Frontispiece by +<span class="smcap">Helen Paterson</span>. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated +boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Pears.—The Present Depression in Trade:</b> Its Causes and Remedies. Being +the "Pears" Prize Essays (of One Hundred Guineas). By <span class="smcap">Edwin Goadby</span> and +<span class="smcap">William Watt</span>. With an Introductory Paper by Prof. <span class="smcap">Leone Levi</span>, F.S.A., +F.S.S. Demy 8vo, <b>1s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Pennell (H. Cholmondeley), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Puck on Pegasus.</b> With Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Pegasus Re-Saddled.</b> With Ten full-page Illusts. by <span class="smcap">G. Du Maurier</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Muses of Mayfair.</b> Vers de Société, Selected and Edited by <span class="smcap">H.C. +Pennell</span>.</p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Phelps (E. Stuart), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, <b>1s.</b> each; cl. limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Beyond the Gates.</b> By the Author of "The Gates Ajar."</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>An Old Maid's Paradise.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Burglars in Paradise.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Jack the Fisherman.</b> With Twenty-two Illustrations by <span class="smcap">C.W. Reed</span>. Cr. 8vo, +picture cover, <b>1s.</b>; cl. <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Pirkis (C.L.), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Trooping with Crows.</b> Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Lady Lovelace.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Planché (J.R.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Pursuivant of Arms</b>; or, Heraldry Founded upon Facts. With Coloured +Frontispiece and 200 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Songs and Poems</b>, from 1819 to 1879. Edited, with an Introduction, by his +Daughter, Mrs. <span class="smcap">Mackarness</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Plutarch's Lives of Illustrious Men.</b> Translated from the Greek, with +Notes Critical and Historical, and a Life of Plutarch, by <span class="smcap">John</span> and +<span class="smcap">William Langhorne</span>. Two Vols., 8vo, cloth extra, with Portraits, <b>10s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Poe (Edgar Allan):—</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Choice Works,</b> in Prose and Poetry, of <span class="smcap">Edgar Allan Poe</span>. With an +Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">Charles Baudelaire</span>, Portrait and Facsimiles. Crown +8vo, cl. extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Mystery of Marie Roget</b>, and other Stories. Post 8vo, illust. bds., +<b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Pope's Poetical Works.</b> Complete in One Vol. Post 8vo, cl. limp, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Praed (Mrs. Campbell-).—The Right Honourable:</b> A Romance of Society +and Politics. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Campbell-Praed</span> and <span class="smcap">Justin McCarthy</span>, M.P. Cr. 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Price (E.C.), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Valentina.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Foreigners.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Mrs. Lancaster's Rival.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Gerald.</b> Post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Princess Olga—Radna;</b> or, The Great Conspiracy of 1881. By the Princess +<span class="smcap">Olga</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Proctor (Rich. A.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Flowers of the Sky.</b> With 55 Illusts. Small crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>4s. +6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Easy Star Lessons.</b> With Star Maps for Every Night in the Year, Drawings +of the Constellations, &c. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Familiar Science Studies.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Saturn and its System.</b> New and Revised Edition, with 13 Steel Plates. +Demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>10s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Mysteries of Time and Space.</b> With Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Universe of Suns</b>, and other Science Gleanings. With numerous +Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Wages and Wants of Science Workers.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[20]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Rabelais' Works.</b> Faithfully Translated from the French, with variorum +Notes, and numerous characteristic Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Gustave Doré</span>. Crown +8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Rambosson.—Popular Astronomy.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Rambosson</span>, Laureate of the +Institute of France. Translated by <span class="smcap">C.B. Pitman</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, +numerous Illusts., and a beautifully executed Chart of Spectra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Reade (Charles), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, illustrated, <b>3s. 6d.</b> +each; post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Peg Woffington.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">S.L. Fildes</span>, A.R.A.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Christie Johnstone.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">William Small</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>It is Never Too Late to Mend.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">G.J. Pinwell</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Course of True Love Never did run Smooth.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Helen +Paterson</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Autobiography of a Thief; Jack of all Trades; and James Lambert.</b> +Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Matt Stretch</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Love me Little, Love me Long.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">M. Ellen Edwards</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Double Marriage.</b> Illust. by Sir <span class="smcap">John Gilbert</span>, R.A., and <span class="smcap">C. Keene</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Cloister and the Hearth.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Charles Keene</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Hard Cash.</b> Illust. by <span class="smcap">F.W. Lawson</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Griffith Gaunt.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">S.L. Fildes</span>, A.R.A., and <span class="smcap">Wm. Small</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Foul Play.</b> Illust. by <span class="smcap">Du Maurier</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Put Yourself in His Place.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Robert Barnes</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Terrible Temptation.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Edw. Hughes</span> and <span class="smcap">A.W. Cooper</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Wandering Heir.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">H. Paterson</span>, <span class="smcap">S.L. Fildes</span>, A.R.A., <span class="smcap">C. +Green</span>, and <span class="smcap">H. Woods</span>, A.R.A.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Simpleton.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Kate Crauford</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Woman-Hater.</b> Illust. by <span class="smcap">Thos. Couldery</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Singleheart and Doubleface</b>: A Matter-of-fact Romance. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">P. +Macnab</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Good Stories of Men and other Animals.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">E.A. Abbey</span>, <span class="smcap">Percy +Macquoid</span>, and <span class="smcap">Joseph Nash</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Jilt, and other Stories.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Joseph Nash</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Readiana.</b> With a Steel-plate Portrait of <span class="smcap">Charles Reade</span>.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Bible Characters</b>: Studies of David, Nehemiah, Jonah, &c. Fcap. 8vo, +leatherette, <b>1s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Reader's Handbook (The) of Allusions, References, Plots, and Stories.</b> By +the Rev. Dr. <span class="smcap">Brewer</span>. Fifth Edition, revised throughout, with a New +Appendix, containing a <span class="smcap">Complete English Bibliography</span>. Cr. 8vo, 1,400 +pages, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Rice (Portrait of James).</b>—Specially etched by <span class="smcap">Daniel A. Wehrschmidt</span> for +the New Library Edition of <span class="smcap">Besant</span> and <span class="smcap">Rice's</span> Novels. A few Proofs before +Letters have been taken on Japanese paper, size 15-3/4 x 10 in. Price +<b>5s.</b> each.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Richardson.—A Ministry of Health, and other Papers.</b> By <span class="smcap">Benjamin Ward +Richardson</span>, M.D., &c. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Riddell (Mrs. J.H.), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; +post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Her Mother's Darling.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Prince of Wales's Garden Party.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Weird Stories.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Uninhabited House.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Fairy Water.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Mystery In Palace Gardens.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Rimmer (Alfred), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Square 8vo, cloth gilt, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Our Old Country Towns.</b> With over 50 Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Rambles Round Eton and Harrow.</b> With 50 Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>About England with Dickens.</b> With 58 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Alfred Rimmer</span> and +<span class="smcap">C.A. Vanderhoof</span>.</p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Robinson (F.W.), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post +8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Women are Strange.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Hands of Justice.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Robinson (Phil), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Poets' Birds.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Poets' Beasts.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Poets and Nature</b>: Reptiles, Fishes, and Insects. [<i>Preparing.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Rochefoucauld's Maxims and Moral Reflections.</b> With Notes, and an +Introductory Essay by <span class="smcap">Sainte-Beuve</span>. Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Roll of Battle Abbey, The;</b> or, A List of the Principal Warriors who came +over from Normandy with William the Conqueror, and Settled in this +Country, <span class="smcap">A.D.</span> 1066-7. With the principal Arms emblazoned in Gold and +Colours. Handsomely printed, <b>5s.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[21]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Rowley (Hon. Hugh), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Puniana: Riddles and Jokes.</b> With numerous Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>More Puniana.</b> Profusely Illustrated.</p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Runciman (James), Stories by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Skippers and Shellbacks.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Grace Balmaign's Sweetheart.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Schools and Scholars.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Russell (W. Clark), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Round the Galley-Fire.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>On the Fo'k'sle Head.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>In the Middle Watch.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Voyage to the Cape.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>A Book for the Hammock.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Mystery of the "Ocean Star,"</b> &c.</p> +<p class="ph2">⁂ The above Six Books may also be had in a handsome cloth +box, under the general title of "<span class="smcap">Clark Russell's Sea Books</span>," for <b>36s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Sala.—Gaslight and Daylight.</b> By <span class="smcap">George Augustus Sala</span>. Post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Sanson.—Seven Generations of Executioners:</b> Memoirs of the Sanson Family +(1688 to 1847). Edited by <span class="smcap">Henry Sanson</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Saunders (John), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Bound to the Wheel.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Guy Waterman.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Lion in the Path.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Two Dreamers.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>One Against the World.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Saunders (Katharine), Novels by.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; +post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Margaret and Elizabeth.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The High Mills.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Heart Salvage.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Sebastian.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Joan Merryweather.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Gideon's Rock.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Science Gossip:</b> An Illustrated Medium of Interchange for Students and +Lovers of Nature. Edited by <span class="smcap">J.E. Taylor</span>, F.L.S., &c. Devoted to Geology, +Botany, Physiology, Chemistry, Zoology, Microscopy, Telescopy, +Physiography, &c. Price <b>4d.</b> Monthly; or <b>5s.</b> per year, post free. Vols. +I. to XIV. may be had at <b>7s. 6d.</b> each; and Vols. XV. to date, at <b>5s.</b> +each. Cases for Binding, <b>1s. 6d.</b> each.</p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>"Secret Out" Series, The:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., Illusts., <b>4s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Secret Out</b>: One Thousand Tricks with Cards, and other Recreations; +with Entertaining Experiments in Drawing-room or "White Magic." By <span class="smcap">W.H. +Cremer</span>. 300 Illusts.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Art of Amusing</b>: A Collection of Graceful Arts, Games, Tricks, +Puzzles, and Charades. By <span class="smcap">Frank Bellew</span>. With 300 Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Hanky-Panky</b>: Very Easy Tricks, Very Difficult Tricks, White Magic, +Sleight of Hand. Edited by <span class="smcap">W.H. Cremer</span>. With 200 Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Magician's Own Book</b>: Performances with Cups and Balls, Eggs, Hats, +Handkerchiefs, &c. All from actual Experience. Edited by <span class="smcap">W.H. Cremer</span>. +200 Illustrations.</p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Seguin (L.G.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Country of the Passion Play</b>, and the Highlands and Highlanders of +Bavaria. With Map and 37 Illusts.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Walks in Algiers</b> and its Surroundings. With 2 Maps and 16 Illusts.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Senior.—By Stream and Sea.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. Senior</span>. Post 8vo., cl. limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Seven Sagas (The) of Prehistoric Man.</b> By <span class="smcap">James H. Stoddart</span>, Author of +"The Village Life." Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Shakespeare:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The First Folio Shakespeare.</b>—<span class="smcap">Mr. William Shakespeare's</span> Comedies, +Histories, and Tragedies. Published according to the true Original +Copies. London, Printed by <span class="smcap">Isaac Iaggard</span> and <span class="smcap">Ed. Blount</span>. 1623.—A +Reproduction of the extremely rare original, in reduced facsimile, by a +photographic process—ensuring the strictest accuracy in every detail. +Small 8vo, half-Roxburghe, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Lansdowne Shakespeare.</b> Beautifully printed in red and black, in +small but very clear type. With engraved facsimile of <span class="smcap">Droeshout's</span> +Portrait. Post 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Shakespeare for Children: Tales from Shakespeare.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles</span> and <span class="smcap">Mary +Lamb</span>. With numerous Illustrations, coloured and plain, by <span class="smcap">J. Moyr Smith</span>. +Cr. 4to, cl. gilt, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Handbook of Shakespeare Music.</b> Being an Account of 350 Pieces of +Music, the compositions ranging from the Elizabethan Age to the Present +Time. By <span class="smcap">Alfred Roffe</span>. 4to, half-Roxburghe, <b>7s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Study of Shakespeare.</b> By <span class="smcap">Algernon Charles Swinburne</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth +extra, <b>8s.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[22]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Shelley.—The Complete Works in Verse and Prose of Percy Bysshe Shelley.</b> +Edited, Prefaced and Annotated by <span class="smcap">Richard Herne Shepherd</span>. Five Vols., +crown 8vo, cloth boards, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<div class="center"><b>Poetical Works, in Three Vols.</b></div> +<p class="ph2">Vol. I. An Introduction by the Editor; The Posthumous Fragments of +Margaret Nicholson; Shelley's Correspondence with Stockdale; The +Wandering Jew (the only complete version); Queen Mab, with the Notes; +Alastor, and other Poems; Rosalind and Helen; Prometheus Unbound; +Adonais, &c.</p> +<p class="ph2">Vol. II. Laon and Cythna (as originally published, instead of the +emasculated "Revolt of Islam"); The Cenci; Julian and Maddalo (from +Shelley's manuscript); Swellfoot the Tyrant (from the copy in the Dyce +Library at South Kensington); The Witch of Atlas; Epipsychidion; Hellas.</p> +<p class="ph2">Vol. III. Posthumous Poems, published by Mrs. <span class="smcap">Shelley</span> in 1824 and 1839; +The Masque of Anarchy (from Shelley's manuscript); and other Pieces not +brought together in the ordinary editions.</p> +<div class="center"><b>Prose Works, in Two Vols.</b></div> +<p class="ph2">Vol. I. The Two Romances of Zastrozzi and St. Irvyne; the Dublin and +Marlow Pamphlets; A Refutation of Deism; Letters to Leigh Hunt, and some +Minor Writings and Fragments.</p> +<p class="ph2">Vol. II. The Essays; Letters from Abroad; Translations and Fragments. +Edited by Mrs. <span class="smcap">Shelley</span>, and first published in 1840, with the addition +of some Minor Pieces of great interest and rarity, including one +recently discovered by Professor <span class="smcap">Dowden</span>. With a Bibliography of Shelley, +and an exhaustive Index of the Prose Works.</p> +<p class="ns">⁂ Also a <span class="smcap">Large-Paper Edition</span>, to be had in <span class="smcap">Sets</span> only, at <b>52s. +6d.</b> for the Five Volumes.</p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Sheridan:—</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Sheridan's Complete Works</b>, with Life and Anecdotes. Including his +Dramatic Writings, printed from the Original Editions, his Works in +Prose and Poetry, Translations, Speeches, Jokes, Puns, &c. With a +Collection of Sheridaniana. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with 10 +full-page Tinted Illustrations, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Sheridan's Comedies: The Rivals, and The School for Scandal.</b> Edited, +with an Introduction and Notes to each Play, and a Biographical Sketch +of Sheridan, by <span class="smcap">Brander Matthews</span>. With Decorative Vignettes and 10 +full-page Illusts. Demy 8vo, half-parchment, <b>12s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Sheridan (General).—Personal Memoirs of General P.H. Sheridan:</b> The +Romantic Career of a Great Soldier, told in his Own Words. With 22 +Portraits and other Illustrations, 27 Maps and numerous Facsimiles of +Famous Letters. Two Vols. of 500 pages each, demy 8vo, cloth extra, <b>24s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Sidney's (Sir Philip) Complete Poetical Works,</b> including all those in +"Arcadia." With Portrait, Memorial-Introduction, Notes, &c., by the Rev. +<span class="smcap">A.B. Grosart</span>, D.D. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth boards, <b>18s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Signboards: Their History.</b> With Anecdotes of Famous Taverns and +Remarkable Characters. By <span class="smcap">Jacob Larwood</span> and <span class="smcap">John Camden Hotten</span>. Crown +8vo, cloth extra, with 100 Illustrations, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Sims (George R.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each; cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Rogues and Vagabonds.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Ring o' Bells.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Mary Jane's Memoirs.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Mary Jane Married.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Dagonet Reciter.</b> Post 8vo, portrait cover, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b> + [<i>Shortly.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Sister Dora:</b> A Biography. By <span class="smcap">Margaret Lonsdale</span>. Popular Edition, +Revised, with additional Chapter, a New Dedication and Preface, and Four +Illustrations. Sq. 8vo, picture cover, <b>4d.</b>; cloth, <b>6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Sketchley.—A Match in the Dark.</b> By <span class="smcap">Arthur Sketchley</span>. Post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Slang Dictionary, The:</b> Etymological, Historical, and Anecdotal. Crown +8vo, cloth extra, gilt, <b>6s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Smith (J. Moyr), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Prince of Argolis</b>: A Story of the Old Greek Fairy Time. Small 8vo, +cloth extra, with 130 Illusts., <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Tales of Old Thule.</b> With numerous Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth gilt, +<b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Wooing of the Water Witch.</b> With Illustrations. Small 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Society in London.</b> By A <span class="smcap">Foreign Resident</span>. Crown 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Society out of Town.</b> By A <span class="smcap">Foreign Resident</span>, Author of "Society in +London." Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b> [<i>Preparing.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Society in Paris:</b> The Upper Ten Thousand. By Count <span class="smcap">Paul Vasili</span>. Trans. +by <span class="smcap">Raphael Ledos de Beaufort</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>6s.</b> [<i>Preparing.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Spalding.—Elizabethan Demonology:</b> An Essay in Illustration of the +Belief in the Existence of Devils, and the Powers possessed by Them. By +T. <span class="smcap">A. Spalding</span>, LL.B. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>5s.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[23]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Speight (T.W.), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Mysteries of Heron Dyke.</b> With a Frontispiece by M. <span class="smcap">Ellen Edwards</span>. +Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated bds., <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Wife or No Wife?</b> Cr. 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Golden Hoop.</b> Post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>By Devious Ways.</b> Demy 8vo, <b>1s.</b> [<i>Nov.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Spenser for Children.</b> By <span class="smcap">M.H. Towry</span>. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Walter J. +Morgan</span>. Crown 4to, with Coloured Illustrations, cloth gilt, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Staunton.—Laws and Practice of Chess;</b> Together with an Analysis of the +Openings, and a Treatise on End Games. By <span class="smcap">Howard Staunton</span>. Edited by +<span class="smcap">Robert B. Wormald</span>. New Edition, small cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Stedman (E.C.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Victorian Poets.</b> Thirteenth Edition, revised and enlarged. Crown 8vo, +cloth extra, <b>9s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Poets of America.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>9s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Sterndale.—The Afghan Knife:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Robert Armitage Sterndale</span>. Cr. +8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Stevenson (R. Louis), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes.</b> Sixth Ed. Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">W. +Crane</span>. Post 8vo, cl. limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>An Inland Voyage.</b> With Front. by <span class="smcap">W. Crane</span>. Post 8vo, cl. lp., <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Familiar Studies of Men and Books.</b> 2nd Edit. Cr. 8vo, buckram extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>New Arabian Nights.</b> Crown 8vo, buckram extra, <b>6s.</b>; post 8vo, illust. +boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Silverado Squatters.</b> With Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, buckram extra, +<b>6s.</b> Cheap Edition, post 8vo, picture cover, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Prince Otto</b>: A Romance. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, buckram extra, <b>6s.</b>; +post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Merry Men</b>, and other Tales and Fables. Cr. 8vo, buckram ex., <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Underwoods:</b> Poems. Post 8vo, cl. ex. <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Memories and Portraits.</b> Second Edition. Cr. 8vo, buckram extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Virginibus Puerisque</b>, and other Papers. A New Edition, Revised. Fcap. +8vo, buckram extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>St. John.—A Levantine Family.</b> By <span class="smcap">Bayle St. John</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated +boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Stoddard.—Summer Cruising in the South Seas.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Warren +Stoddard</span>. Illust. by <span class="smcap">Wallis Mackay</span>. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Stories from Foreign Novelists.</b> With Notices of their Lives and +Writings. By <span class="smcap">Helen</span> and <span class="smcap">Alice Zimmern</span>. Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth +extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>St. Pierre.—Paul and Virginia, and The Indian Cottage</b>. By <span class="smcap">Bernardin St. +Pierre</span>. Edited, with Life, by Rev. <span class="smcap">E. Clarke</span>. Post 8vo, cl. lp., <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Strange Manuscript (A) found in a Copper Cylinder.</b> With 19 full-page +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Gilbert Gaul</span>. Second Edition. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Strutt's Sports and Pastimes of the People of England;</b> including the +Rural and Domestic Recreations, May Games, Mummeries, Shows, &c., from +the Earliest Period to the Present Time. With 140 Illustrations. Edited +by <span class="smcap">Wm. Hone</span>. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Suburban Homes (The) of London:</b> A Residential Guide to Favourite London +Localities, their Society, Celebrities, and Associations. With Notes on +their Rental, Rates, and House Accommodation. With Map of Suburban +London. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Swift's Choice Works,</b> in Prose and Verse. With Memoir, Portrait, and +Facsimiles of the Maps in the Original Edition of "Gulliver's Travels." +Cr. 8vo, cloth extra. <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Swinburne (Algernon C.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Selections from the Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne.</b> Fcap. +8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Atalanta in Calydon.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Chastelard.</b> A Tragedy. Cr. 8vo, <b>7s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Poems and Ballads.</b> <span class="smcap">First Series.</span> Fcap. 8vo, <b>9s.</b> Cr. 8vo, same price.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Poems and Ballads.</b> <span class="smcap">Second Series.</span> Fcap. 8vo, <b>9s.</b> Cr. 8vo, same price.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Notes on Poems and Reviews.</b> 8vo, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Songs before Sunrise.</b> Cr. 8vo, <b>10s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Bothwell:</b> A Tragedy. Cr. 8vo, <b>12s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Songs of Two Nations.</b> Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Essays and Studies.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>12s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Erechtheus:</b> A Tragedy. Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Note on Charlotte Bronte.</b> Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Study of Shakespeare.</b> Cr. 8vo, <b>8s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Songs of the Springtides.</b> Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Studies in Song.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>7s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Mary Stuart</b>: A Tragedy. Cr. 8vo, <b>8s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Tristram of Lyonesse</b>, and other Poems. Crown 8vo, <b>9s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Century of Roundels.</b> Small 4to, <b>8s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Midsummer Holiday</b>, and other Poems. Crown 8vo, <b>7s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Marino Faliero:</b> A Tragedy. Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Study of Victor Hugo.</b> Cr. 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Miscellanies.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>12s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Locrine</b>: A Tragedy. Crown 8vo, <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Mr. Swinburne's New Volume of Poems.</b> Crown 8vo, <b>6s.</b> [<i>Shortly.</i></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[24]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Symonds.—Wine, Women, and Song:</b> Mediæval Latin Students' Songs. Now +first translated into English Verse, with Essay by <span class="smcap">J. Addington Symonds</span>. +Small 8vo, parchment, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Syntax's (Dr.) Three Tours:</b> In Search of the Picturesque, in Search of +Consolation, and in Search of a Wife. With the whole of <span class="smcap">Rowlandson's</span> +droll page Illustrations in Colours and a Life of the Author by <span class="smcap">J.C. +Hotten</span>. Med. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Taine's History of English Literature.</b> Translated by <span class="smcap">Henry Van Laun</span>. +Four Vols., small 8vo, cloth boards, <b>30s.</b>—popular edition, Two Vols., +crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>15s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Taylor's (Bayard) Diversions of the Echo Club:</b> Burlesques of Modern +Writers. Post 8vo, cl. limp, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Taylor (Dr. J.E., F.L.S.), Works by.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth ex., <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Sagacity and Morality of Plants</b>: A Sketch of the Life and Conduct of +the Vegetable Kingdom. Coloured Frontispiece and 100 Illust.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Our Common British Fossils</b>, and Where to Find Them: A Handbook for +Students. With 331 Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Playtime Naturalist</b>: A Book for every Home. With about 350 +Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b> [<i>Preparing.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Taylor's (Tom) Historical Dramas:</b> "Clancarty," "Jeanne Darc," "'Twixt +Axe and Crown," "The Fool's Revenge," "Arkwright's Wife," "Anne Boleyn," +"Plot and Passion." One Vol., cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ns">⁂ The Plays may also be had separately, at <b>1s.</b> each.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Tennyson (Lord):</b> A Biographical Sketch. By <span class="smcap">H.J. Jennings</span>. With a +Photograph-Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Thackerayana:</b> Notes and Anecdotes. Illustrated by Hundreds of Sketches +by <span class="smcap">William Makepeace Thackeray</span>, depicting Humorous Incidents in his +School-life, and Favourite Characters in the books of his every-day +reading. With Coloured Frontispiece. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Thomas (Bertha), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Cressida.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Violin-Player.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Proud Maisie.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Thomas (M.).—A Fight for Life:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">W. Moy Thomas</span>. Post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Thomson's Seasons and Castle of Indolence.</b> With a Biographical and +Critical Introduction by <span class="smcap">Allan Cunningham</span>, and over 50 fine +Illustrations on Steel and Wood. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, <b>7s. +6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Thornbury (Walter), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Haunted London.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">Edward Walford</span>, M.A. With Illustrations by +<span class="smcap">F.W. Fairholt</span>, F.S.A. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Life and Correspondence of J.M.W. Turner.</b> Founded upon Letters and +Papers furnished by his Friends and fellow Academicians. With numerous +Illusts. in Colours, facsimiled from Turner's Original Drawings. Cr. +8vo, cl. extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Old Stories Re-told.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Tales for the Marines.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Timbs (John), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The History of Clubs and Club Life In London.</b> With Anecdotes of its +Famous Coffee-houses, Hostelries, and Taverns. With many Illusts.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>English Eccentrics and Eccentricities</b>: Stories of Wealth and Fashion, +Delusions, Impostures, and Fanatic Missions, Strange Sights and Sporting +Scenes, Eccentric Artists, Theatrical Folk, Men of Letters, &c. With +nearly 50 Illusts.</p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Trollope (Anthony), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Way We Live Now.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Kept in the Dark.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Frau Frohmann.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Marion Fay.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Mr. Scarborough's Family.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Land-Leaguers.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Golden Lion of Granpere.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>John Caldigate.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>American Senator.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Trollope (Frances E.), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Like Ships upon the Sea.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Mabel's Progress.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Anne Furness.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Trollope (T.A.).—Diamond Cut Diamond,</b> and other Stories. By <span class="smcap">T. Adolphus +Trollope</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Trowbridge.—Farnell's Folly:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">J.T. Trowbridge</span>. Post 8vo, +illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Turgenieff.—Stories from Foreign Novelists.</b> By <span class="smcap">Ivan Turgenieff</span>, and +others. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, +<b>2s.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[25]</span></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Tytler (C.C. Fraser-).—Mistress Judith:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">C.C. Fraser-Tytler</span>. +Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b>; post 8vo, illust. boards, <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Tytler (Sarah), Novels by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each; post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> +each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>What She Came Through.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Bride's Pass.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Saint Mungo's City.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Beauty and the Beast.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Noblesse Oblige.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Lady Bell.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Citoyenne Jacqueline.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Huguenot Family.</b> With Illusts.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Buried Diamonds.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Disappeared: A Romance.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Blackhall Ghosts</b>: A Novel. 3 Vols., crown 8vo. [<i>Preparing.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Van Laun.—History of French Literature.</b> By <span class="smcap">H. Van Laun</span>. Three Vols., +demy 8vo, cl. bds., <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Villari—A Double Bond:</b> A Story. By <span class="smcap">Linda Villari</span>. Fcap. 8vo, picture +cover, <b>1s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Walford (Edw., M.A.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The County Families of the United Kingdom.</b> Containing Notices of the +Descent, Birth, Marriage, Education, &c., of more than 12000, +distinguished Heads of Families, their Heirs Apparent or Presumptive, +the Offices they hold or have held, their Town and Country Addresses, +Clubs, &c. Twenty-seventh Annual Edition, for 1888, cloth gilt, <b>50s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Shilling Peerage (1888).</b> Containing an Alphabetical List of the +House of Lords, Dates of Creation, Lists of Scotch and Irish Peers, +Addresses, &c. 32mo, cloth, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Shilling Baronetage (1888).</b> Containing an Alphabetical List of the +Baronets of the United Kingdom, short Biographical Notices, Dates of +Creation, Addresses, &c. 32mo, cloth, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Shilling Knightage (1888).</b> Containing an Alphabetical List of the +Knights of the United Kingdom, short Biographical Notices, Dates of +Creation, Addresses, &c. 32mo, cl., <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Shilling House of Commons (1888).</b> Containing a List of all the +Members of Parliament, their Town and Country Addresses, &c. New +Edition, embodying the results of the recent General Election, 32mo. +cloth, <b>1s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Complete Peerage, Baronetage, Knightage, and House of Commons +(1888).</b> In One Volume, royal 32mo, cloth extra, gilt edges, <b>5s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Haunted London.</b> By <span class="smcap">Walter Thornbury</span>. Edited by <span class="smcap">Edward Walford</span>, M.A. With +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">F.W. Fairholt</span>, F.S.A. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Walton and Cotton's Complete Angler;</b> or, The Contemplative Man's +Recreation; being a Discourse of Rivers, Fishponds, Fish and Fishing, +written by <span class="smcap">Izaak Walton</span>; and Instructions how to Angle for a Trout or +Grayling in a clear Stream, by <span class="smcap">Charles Cotton</span>. With Original Memoirs and +Notes by Sir <span class="smcap">Harris Nicolas</span>, and 61 Copperplate Illustrations. Large +crown 8vo, cloth antique, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Walt Whitman, Poems by.</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Selected and edited, with an Introduction, by <span class="smcap">William M. Rossetti</span>. A New +Edition, with a Steel Plate Portrait. Crown 8vo, printed on hand-made +paper and bound in buckram, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Wanderer's Library, The:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Wanderings In Patagonia</b>; or, Life among the Ostrich-Hunters. By <span class="smcap">Julius +Beerbohm</span>. Illustrated.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Camp Notes</b>: Stories of Sport and Adventure in Asia, Africa, and America. +By <span class="smcap">Frederick Boyle</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Savage Life.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frederick Boyle</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Merrie England in the Olden Time.</b> By <span class="smcap">George Daniel</span>. With Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">Robt. Cruikshank</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Circus Life and Circus Celebrities.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas Frost</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Lives of the Conjurers.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas Frost</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Old Showmen and the Old London Fairs.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas Frost</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Low-Life Deeps.</b> An Account of the Strange Fish to be found there. By +<span class="smcap">James Greenwood</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Wilds of London.</b> By <span class="smcap">James Greenwood</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Tunis</b>: The Land and the People. By the Chevalier de <span class="smcap">Hesse-Wartegg</span>. With +22 Illustrations.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack.</b> By One of the Fraternity. +Edited by <span class="smcap">Charles Hindley</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The World Behind the Scenes.</b> By <span class="smcap">Percy Fitzgerald</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings</b>: Including the Origin of Signs, and +Reminiscences connected with Taverns, Coffee Houses, Clubs, &c. By +<span class="smcap">Charles Hindley</span>. With Illusts.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Genial Showman</b>: Life and Adventures of Artemus Ward. By <span class="smcap">E.P. +Hingston</span>. With a Frontispiece.</p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[26]</span></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Story of the London Parks.</b> By <span class="smcap">Jacob Larwood</span>. With Illusts.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>London Characters.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry Mayhew</span>. Illustrated.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Seven Generations of Executioners</b>: Memoirs of the Sanson Family (1688 to +1847). Edited by <span class="smcap">Henry Sanson</span>.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Summer Cruising in the South Seas.</b> By <span class="smcap">C. Warren Stoddard</span>. Illustrated by +<span class="smcap">Wallis Mackay</span>.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Warner.—A Roundabout Journey.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Dudley Warner</span>, Author of "My +Summer in a Garden." Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Warrants, &c.:—</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Warrant to Execute Charles I.</b> An exact Facsimile, with the Fifty-nine +Signatures, and corresponding Seals. Carefully printed on paper to +imitate the Original, 22 in. by 14 in. Price <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Warrant to Execute Mary Queen of Scots.</b> An exact Facsimile, including +the Signature of Queen Elizabeth, and a Facsimile of the Great Seal. +Beautifully printed on paper to imitate the Original MS. Price <b>2s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Magna Charta.</b> An exact Facsimile of the Original Document in the British +Museum, printed on fine plate paper, nearly 3 feet long by 2 feet wide, +with the Arms and Seals emblazoned in Gold and Colours. <b>5s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Roll of Battle Abbey</b>; or, A List of the Principal Warriors who came +over from Normandy with William the Conqueror, and Settled in this +Country, <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 1066-7. With the principal Arms emblazoned in Gold and +Colours. Price <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Wayfarer, The: Journal of the Society of Cyclists.</b> Published at short +intervals. Price <b>1s.</b> The Numbers for <span class="smcap">October</span>, 1886, <span class="smcap">January</span>, <span class="smcap">May</span>, and +<span class="smcap">October</span>, 1887, and <span class="smcap">February</span>, 1888, are now ready.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Weather, How to Foretell the, with the Pocket Spectroscope.</b> By <span class="smcap">F.W. +Cory</span>, M.R.C.S. Eng., F.R. Met. Soc., &c. With 10 Illustrations. Crown +8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cloth, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Westropp.—Handbook of Pottery and Porcelain;</b> or, History of those Arts +from the Earliest Period. By <span class="smcap">Hodder M. Westropp</span>. With numerous +Illustrations, and a List of Marks. Crown 8vo. cloth limp, <b>4s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Whist.—How to Play Solo Whist:</b> Its Method and Principles Explained, and +its Practice Demonstrated. With Illustrative Specimen Hands in red and +black, and a Revised and Augmented Code of Laws. By <span class="smcap">Abraham S. Wilks</span> and +<span class="smcap">Charles F. Pardon</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Whistler's (Mr.) Ten o'Clock.</b> Uniform with his "Whistler v. Ruskin: +Art and Art Critics." Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Williams (W. Mattieu, F.R.A.S.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Science Notes.</b> See the <span class="smcap">Gentleman's Magazine.</span> <b>1s.</b> Monthly.</p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Science in Short Chapters.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>A Simple Treatise on Heat.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth limp, with Illusts., <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>The Chemistry of Cookery.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Wilson (Dr. Andrew, F.R.S.E.), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Chapters on Evolution</b>: A Popular History of Darwinian and Allied +Theories of Development. 3rd ed. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., with 259 Illusts., +<b>7s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Leaves from a Naturalist's Notebook.</b> Post 8vo, cloth limp, <b>2s. 6d.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Leisure-Time Studies</b>, chiefly Biological. Third Edit., with New Preface. +Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., with Illusts., <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Studies In Life and Sense.</b> With numerous Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., <b>6s.</b></p> +<p class="ph2"><b>Common Accidents, and How to Treat them.</b> By Dr. <span class="smcap">Andrew Wilson</span> and +others. With numerous Illusts. Cr. 8vo, <b>1s.</b>; cl. limp, <b>1s. 6d.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Winter (J.S.), Stories by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Cavalry Life.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Regimental Legends.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Women of the Day</b>: A Biographical Dictionary of Notable Contemporaries. +By <span class="smcap">Frances Hays</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Wood.—Sabina:</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Lady Wood</span>. Post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Wood (H.F.)—The Passenger from Scotland Yard:</b> A Detective Story. By +<span class="smcap">H.F. Wood</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>6s.</b>; post 8vo, illust. bds., <b>2s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Words, Facts, and Phrases</b>: A Dictionary of Curious, Quaint, and +Out-of-the-Way Matters. By <span class="smcap">Eliezer Edwards</span>. New and cheaper issue, cr. +8vo, cl. ex., <b>7s. 6d.</b>; half-bound, <b>9s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Wright (Thomas), Works by:</b></p> +<p class="ph2">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>7s. 6d.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Caricature History of the Georges.</b> (The House of Hanover.) With 400 +Pictures, Caricatures, Squibs, Broadsides, Window Pictures, &c.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>History of Caricature and of the Grotesque in Art, Literature, +Sculpture, and Painting.</b> Profusely Illustrated by <span class="smcap">F.W. Fairholt</span>, F.S.A.</p> + +<p class="ph1nb"><b>Yates (Edmund), Novels by</b>:</p> +<p class="ph2">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s.</b> each.</p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Castaway.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>The Forlorn Hope.</b></p> +<p class="ph3"><b>Land at Last.</b></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[27]</span></p> +<h3>NEW NOVELS.</h3> + +<p class="ph1"><b>A Strange Manuscript found in a Copper Cylinder.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Gilbert +Gaul</span>. Cr. 8vo, <b>5s.</b></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>The Legacy of Cain.</b> By <span class="smcap">Wilkie Collins</span>. 3 Vols., cr. 8vo. [<i>Shortly.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>For Faith and Freedom.</b> By <span class="smcap">Walter Besant</span>. 3 Vols., cr. 8vo. [<i>Shortly.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>This Mortal Coil.</b> By <span class="smcap">Grant Allen</span>. 3 Vols., crown 8vo.</p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>The Blackhall Ghosts.</b> By <span class="smcap">Sarah Tytler</span>. 3 Vols., cr. 8vo. [<i>Shortly.</i></p> + +<p class="ph1"><b>Agatha Page.</b> By <span class="smcap">Isaac Henderson</span>. 2 Vols., crown 8vo. [<i>Shortly.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>THE PICCADILLY NOVELS.</h3> + +<div class="center">Popular Stories by the Best Authors. <span class="smcap">Library Editions</span>, many Illustrated, +crown 8vo, cloth extra, <b>3s. 6d.</b> each.</div> + +<div class="bookad"> +<div class="center"><br /><i>BY GRANT ALLEN.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Philistia.</b><br /> +<b>For Maimie's Sake.</b><br /> +<b>The Devil's Die.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY THE AUTHOR OF "JOHN HERRING."</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Red Spider.<br /> +Eve.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY W. BESANT & JAMES RICE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Ready-Money Mortiboy.</b><br /> +<b>My Little Girl.</b><br /> +<b>The Case of Mr. Lucraft.</b><br /> +<b>This Son of Vulcan.</b><br /> +<b>With Harp and Crown.</b><br /> +<b>The Golden Butterfly.</b><br /> +<b>By Celia's Arbour.</b><br /> +<b>The Monks of Thelema.</b><br /> +<b>'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay.</b><br /> +<b>The Seamy Side.</b><br /> +<b>The Ten Years' Tenant.</b><br /> +<b>The Chaplain of the Fleet.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY WALTER BESANT.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>All Sorts and Conditions of Men.</b><br /> +<b>The Captains' Room.</b><br /> +<b>All in a Garden Fair.</b><br /> +<b>Dorothy Forster.</b><br /> +<b>Uncle Jack.</b><br /> +<b>Children of Gibeon.</b><br /> +<b>The World Went Very Well Then.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Child of Nature.</b><br /> +<b>God and the Man.</b><br /> +<b>The Shadow of the Sword.</b><br /> +<b>The Martyrdom of Madeline.</b><br /> +<b>Love Me for Ever.</b><br /> +<b>Annan Water.</b><br /> +<b>Matt.</b><br /> +<b>The New Abelard.</b><br /> +<b>Foxglove Manor.</b><br /> +<b>The Master of the Mine.</b><br /> +<b>The Heir of Linne.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY HALL CAINE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>The Shadow of a Crime.</b><br /> +<b>A Son of Hagar.</b><br /> +<b>The Deemster.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. H. LOVETT CAMERON.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Deceivers Ever.</b><br /> +<b>Juliet's Guardian.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MORTIMER COLLINS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Sweet Anne Page.</b><br /> +<b>Transmigration.</b><br /> +<b>From Midnight to Midnight.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MORTIMER & FRANCES COLLINS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Blacksmith and Scholar.</b><br /> +<b>The Village Comedy.</b><br /> +<b>You Play me False.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY WILKIE COLLINS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Antonina.</b><br /> +<b>Basil.</b><br /> +<b>Hide and Seek.</b><br /> +<b>The Dead Secret.</b><br /> +<b>Queen of Hearts.</b><br /> +<b>My Miscellanies.</b><br /> +<b>Woman in White.</b><br /> +<b>The Moonstone.</b><br /> +<b>Man and Wife.</b><br /> +<b>Poor Miss Finch.</b><br /> +<b>Miss or Mrs.?</b><br /> +<b>New Magdalen.</b><br /> +<b>The Frozen Deep.</b><br /> +<b>The Law and the Lady.</b><br /> +<b>The Two Destinies.</b><br /> +<b>Haunted Hotel.</b><br /> +<b>The Fallen Leaves.</b><br /> +<b>Jezebel's Daughter.</b><br /> +<b>The Black Robe.</b><br /> +<b>Heart and Science.</b><br /> +<b>"I Say No."</b><br /> +<b>Little Novels.</b><br /> +<b>The Evil Genius.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY DUTTON COOK.</i></div> + +<p><b>Paul Foster's Daughter.</b></p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY WILLIAM CYPLES.</i></div> + +<p><b>Hearts of Gold.</b></p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY ALPHONSE DAUDET.</i></div> + +<p><b>The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation.</b></p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY JAMES DE MILLE.</i></div> + +<p><b>A Castle in Spain.</b></p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY J. LEITH DERWENT.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Our Lady of Tears.</b><br /> +<b>Circe's Lovers.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY M. BETHAM-EDWARDS.</i></div> + +<p><b>Felicia.</b></p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. ANNIE EDWARDES.</i></div> + +<p><b>Archie Lovell.</b></p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY PERCY FITZGERALD.</i></div> + +<p><b>Fatal Zero.</b></p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY R.E. FRANCILLON.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Queen Cophetua.</b><br /> +<b>One by One.</b><br /> +<b>A Real Queen.</b><br /> +<b>King or Knave?<br /></b> +<i>Prefaced by Sir BARTLE FRERE.</i><br /> +<b>Pandurang Hari.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY EDWARD GARRETT.</i></div> + +<p><b>The Capel Girls.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[28]</span></p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY CHARLES GIBBON.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Robin Gray.</b><br /> +<b>What will the World Say?</b><br /> +<b>In Honour Bound.</b><br /> +<b>Queen of the Meadow.</b><br /> +<b>The Flower of the Forest.</b><br /> +<b>A Heart's Problem.</b><br /> +<b>The Braes of Yarrow.</b><br /> +<b>The Golden Shaft.</b><br /> +<b>Of High Degree.</b><br /> +<b>Loving a Dream.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY THOMAS HARDY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Under the Greenwood Tree.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Garth.</b><br /> +<b>Ellice Quentin.</b><br /> +<b>Sebastian Strome.</b><br /> +<b>Dust.</b><br /> +<b>Fortune's Fool.</b><br /> +<b>Beatrix Randolph.</b><br /> +<b>David Poindexter's Disappearance.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY SIR A. HELPS.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Ivan de Biron.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. ALFRED HUNT.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Thornicroft's Model.</b><br /> +<b>The Leaden Casket.</b><br /> +<b>Self-Condemned.</b><br /> +<b>That other Person.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY JEAN INGELOW.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Fated to be Free.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY R. ASHE KING.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>A Drawn Game.</b><br /> +<b>The Wearing of the Green.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY HENRY KINGSLEY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Number Seventeen.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY E. LYNN LINTON.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Patricia Kemball.</b><br /> +<b>Atonement of Leam Dundas.</b><br /> +<b>The World Well Lost.</b><br /> +<b>Under which Lord?</b><br /> +<b>"My Love!"</b><br /> +<b>Ione.</b><br /> +<b>Paston Carew.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY HENRY W. LUCY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Gideon Fleyce.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY JUSTIN McCARTHY.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>The Waterdale Neighbours.</b><br /> +<b>A Fair Saxon.</b><br /> +<b>Dear Lady Disdain.</b><br /> +<b>Miss Misanthrope.</b><br /> +<b>Donna Quixote.</b><br /> +<b>The Comet of a Season.</b><br /> +<b>Maid of Athens.</b><br /> +<b>Camiola.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. MACDONELL.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Quaker Cousins.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY FLORENCE MARRYAT.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Open! Sesame!</b><br /> +<b>Written In Fire.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Life's Atonement.</b><br /> +<b>Joseph's Coat.</b><br /> +<b>A Model Father.</b><br /> +<b>Coals of Fire.</b><br /> +<b>Val Strange.</b><br /> +<b>Hearts.</b><br /> +<b>By the Gate of the Sea.</b><br /> +<b>The Way of the World.</b><br /> +<b>A Bit of Human Nature.</b><br /> +<b>First Person Singular.</b><br /> +<b>Cynic Fortune.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. OLIPHANT.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Whiteladies.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY OUIDA.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Held In Bondage.</b><br /> +<b>Strathmore.</b><br /> +<b>Chandos.</b><br /> +<b>Under Two Flags.</b><br /> +<b>Idalla.</b><br /> +<b>Cecil Castlemaine's Gage.</b><br /> +<b>Tricotrin.</b><br /> +<b>Puck.</b><br /> +<b>Folle Farine.</b><br /> +<b>A Dog of Flanders.</b><br /> +<b>Pascarel.</b><br /> +<b>Signa.</b><br /> +<b>Princess Napraxine.</b><br /> +<b>Two Little Wooden Shoes.</b><br /> +<b>In a Winter City.</b><br /> +<b>Ariadne.</b><br /> +<b>Friendship.</b><br /> +<b>Moths.</b><br /> +<b>Pipistrello.</b><br /> +<b>A Village Commune.</b><br /> +<b>Bimbi.</b><br /> +<b>Wanda.</b><br /> +<b>Frescoes.</b><br /> +<b>In Maremma.</b><br /> +<b>Othmar.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MARGARET A. PAUL.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Gentle and Simple.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY JAMES PAYN.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Lost Sir Massingberd.</b><br /> +<b>Walter's Word.</b><br /> +<b>Less Black than We're Painted.</b><br /> +<b>By Proxy.</b><br /> +<b>High Spirits.</b><br /> +<b>Under One Roof.</b><br /> +<b>A Confidential Agent.</b><br /> +<b>From Exile.</b><br /> +<b>A Grape from a Thorn.</b><br /> +<b>Some Private Views.</b><br /> +<b>The Canon's Ward.</b><br /> +<b>Talk of the Town.</b><br /> +<b>Glow-worm Tales.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY E.C. PRICE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Valentina.</b><br /> +<b>Mrs. Lancaster's Rival.</b><br /> +<b>The Foreigners.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY CHARLES READE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>It Is Never Too Late to Mend.</b><br /> +<b>Hard Cash.</b><br /> +<b>Peg Woffington.</b><br /> +<b>Christie Johnstone.</b><br /> +<b>Griffith Gaunt.</b><br /> +<b>Foul Play.</b><br /> +<b>The Double Marriage.</b><br /> +<b>Love Me Little, Love Me Long.</b><br /> +<b>The Cloister and the Hearth.</b><br /> +<b>The Course of True Love.</b><br /> +<b>The Autobiography of a Thief.</b><br /> +<b>Put Yourself in His Place.</b><br /> +<b>A Terrible Temptation.</b><br /> +<b>The Wandering Heir.</b><br /> +<b>A Simpleton.</b><br /> +<b>A Woman-Hater.</b><br /> +<b>Readiana.</b><br /> +<b>Singleheart and Doubleface.</b><br /> +<b>The Jilt.</b><br /> +<b>Good Stories of Men and other Animals.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. J.H. RIDDELL.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Her Mother's Darling.</b><br /> +<b>Prince of Wales's Garden Party.</b><br /> +<b>Weird Stories.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[29]</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY F.W. ROBINSON.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Women are Strange.</b><br /> +<b>The Hands of Justice.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY JOHN SAUNDERS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Bound to the Wheel.</b><br /> +<b>Guy Waterman.</b><br /> +<b>Two Dreamers.</b><br /> +<b>The Lion in the Path.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY KATHARINE SAUNDERS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Margaret and Elizabeth.</b><br /> +<b>Gideon's Rock.</b><br /> +<b>Heart Salvage.</b><br /> +<b>The High Mills.</b><br /> +<b>Sebastian.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY T.W. SPEIGHT.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Mysteries of Heron Dyke.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY R.A. STERNDALE.</i></div> + +<p><b>The Afghan Knife.</b></p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY BERTHA THOMAS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Proud Maisie.</b><br /> +<b>Cressida.</b><br /> +<b>The Violin-Player</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY ANTHONY TROLLOPE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>The Way we Live Now.</b><br /> +<b>Frau Frohmann.</b><br /> +<b>Marion Fay.</b><br /> +<b>Kept in the Dark.</b><br /> +<b>Mr. Scarborough's Family.</b><br /> +<b>The Land Leaguers.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY FRANCES E. TROLLOPE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Like Ships upon the Sea.</b><br /> +<b>Anne Furness.</b><br /> +<b>Mabel's Progress.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Stories from Foreign Novelists.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY SARAH TYTLER.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>What She Came Through.</b><br /> +<b>The Bride's Pass.</b><br /> +<b>Saint Mungo's City.</b><br /> +<b>Beauty and the Beast.</b><br /> +<b>Noblesse Oblige.</b><br /> +<b>Citoyenne Jacqueline.</b><br /> +<b>The Huguenot Family.</b><br /> +<b>Lady Bell.</b><br /> +<b>Buried Diamonds.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY C.C. FRASER-TYTLER.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Mistress Judith.</b></p> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR NOVELS.</h3> + +<div class="center">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, <b>2s</b>. each.</div> + + +<div class="bookad"> +<div class="center"><br /><i>BY EDMOND ABOUT.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Fellah.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY HAMILTON AÏDÉ.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Carr of Carrlyon.</b><br /> +<b>Confidences.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. ALEXANDER.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Maid, Wife, or Widow?</b><br /> +<b>Valerie's Fate.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY GRANT ALLEN.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Strange Stories.</b><br /> +<b>Philistia.</b><br /> +<b>Babylon.</b><br /> +<b>In all Shades.</b><br /> +<b>The Beckoning Hand.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY SHELSLEY BEAUCHAMP.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Grantley Grange.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY W. BESANT & JAMES RICE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Ready-Money Mortiboy.</b><br /> +<b>With Harp and Crown.</b><br /> +<b>This Son of Vulcan.</b><br /> +<b>My Little Girl.</b><br /> +<b>The Case of Mr. Lucraft.</b><br /> +<b>The Golden Butterfly.</b><br /> +<b>By Celia's Arbour.</b><br /> +<b>The Monks of Thelema.</b><br /> +<b>'Twas In Trafalgar's Bay.</b><br /> +<b>The Seamy Side.</b><br /> +<b>The Ten Years' Tenant.</b><br /> +<b>The Chaplain of the Fleet.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY WALTER BESANT.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>All Sorts and Conditions of Men.</b><br /> +<b>The Captains' Room.</b><br /> +<b>All in a Garden Fair.</b><br /> +<b>Dorothy Forster.</b><br /> +<b>Uncle Jack.</b><br /> +<b>Children of Gibeon.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY FREDERICK BOYLE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Camp Notes.</b><br /> +<b>Savage Life.</b><br /> +<b>Chronicles of No-man's Land.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY BRET HARTE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>An Heiress of Red Dog.</b><br /> +<b>The Luck of Roaring Camp.</b><br /> +<b>Californian Stories.</b><br /> +<b>Gabriel Conroy.</b><br /> +<b>Flip.</b><br /> +<b>Maruja.</b><br /> +<b>A Phyllis of the Sierras.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>The Shadow of the Sword.</b><br /> +<b>The Martyrdom of Madeline.</b><br /> +<b>A Child of Nature.</b><br /> +<b>Annan Water.</b><br /> +<b>God and the Man.</b><br /> +<b>The New Abelard.</b><br /> +<b>Love Me for Ever.</b><br /> +<b>Matt.</b><br /> +<b>Foxglove Manor.</b><br /> +<b>The Master of the Mine.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. BURNETT.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Surly Tim.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY HALL CAINE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>The Shadow of a Crime.</b><br /> +<b>A Son of Hagar.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY COMMANDER CAMERON.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Cruise of the "Black Prince."</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. LOVETT CAMERON.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Deceivers Ever.</b><br /> +<b>Juliet's Guardian.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MACLAREN COBBAN.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Cure of Souls.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY C. ALLSTON COLLINS.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Bar Sinister.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY WILKIE COLLINS.</i><br /><br /></div> + +<p class="ns"> +<b>Antonina.</b><br /> +<b>Queen of Hearts.</b><br /> +<b>Basil.</b><br /> +<b>My Miscellanies.</b><br /> +<b>Hide and Seek.</b><br /> +<b>Woman in White.</b><br /> +<b>The Dead Secret.</b><br /> +<b>The Moonstone.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[30]</span> +<b>Man and Wife.</b><br /> +<b>Poor Miss Finch.</b><br /> +<b>Miss or Mrs.?</b><br /> +<b>New Magdalen.</b><br /> +<b>The Frozen Deep.</b><br /> +<b>Law and the Lady.</b><br /> +<b>The Two Destinies.</b><br /> +<b>Haunted Hotel.</b><br /> +<b>The Fallen Leaves.</b><br /> +<b>Jezebel's Daughter.</b><br /> +<b>The Black Robe.</b><br /> +<b>Heart and Science.</b><br /> +<b>"I Say No."</b><br /> +<b>The Evil Genius.</b><br /><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MORTIMER COLLINS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Sweet Anne Page.</b><br /> +<b>Transmigration.</b><br /> +<b>From Midnight to Midnight.</b><br /> +<b>A Fight with Fortune.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MORTIMER & FRANCES COLLINS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Sweet and Twenty.</b><br /> +<b>Frances.</b><br /> +<b>Blacksmith and Scholar.</b><br /> +<b>The Village Comedy.</b><br /> +<b>You Play me False.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY M.J. COLQUHOUN.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Every Inch a Soldier.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY MONCURE D. CONWAY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Pine and Palm.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY DUTTON COOK.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Leo.</b><br /> +<b>Paul Foster's Daughter.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY C. EGBERT CRADDOCK.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY WILLIAM CYPLES.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Hearts of Gold.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY ALPHONSE DAUDET.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY JAMES DE MILLE.</i></div> + + +<p><b>A Castle In Spain.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY J. LEITH DERWENT.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Our Lady of Tears.</b><br /> +<b>Circe's Lovers.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY CHARLES DICKENS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Sketches by Boz.</b><br /> +<b>Pickwick Papers.</b><br /> +<b>Oliver Twist.</b><br /> +<b>Nicholas Nickleby.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY DICK DONOVAN.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Man-Hunter.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. ANNIE EDWARDES.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>A Point of Honour.</b><br /> +<b>Archie Lovell.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY M. BETHAM-EDWARDS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Felicia.</b><br /> +<b>Kitty.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY EDWARD EGGLESTON.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Roxy.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY PERCY FITZGERALD.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Bella Donna.</b><br /> +<b>Never Forgotten.</b><br /> +<b>The Second Mrs. Tillotson.</b><br /> +<b>Polly.</b><br /> +<b>Fatal Zero.</b><br /> +<b>Seventy-five Brooke Street.</b><br /> +<b>The Lady of Brantome.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY ALBANY DE FONBLANQUE.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Filthy Lucre.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY R.E. FRANCILLON.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Olympia.</b><br /> +<b>One by One.</b><br /> +<b>Queen Cophetua.</b><br /> +<b>A Real Queen.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY HAROLD FREDERIC.</i></div> +<p><b>Seth's Brother's Wife.</b><br /> +<i>Prefaced by Sir H. BARTLE FRERE.</i><br /> +<b>Pandurang Hari.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY HAIN FRISWELL.</i></div> + + +<p><b>One of Two.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY EDWARD GARRETT.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Capel Girls.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY CHARLES GIBBON.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Robin Gray.</b><br /> +<b>For Lack of Gold.</b><br /> +<b>What will the World Say?</b><br /> +<b>In Honour Bound.</b><br /> +<b>In Love and War.</b><br /> +<b>For the King.</b><br /> +<b>In Pastures Green.</b><br /> +<b>Queen of the Meadow.</b><br /> +<b>A Heart's Problem.</b><br /> +<b>The Flower of the Forest.</b><br /> +<b>Braes of Yarrow.</b><br /> +<b>The Golden Shaft.</b><br /> +<b>Of High Degree.</b><br /> +<b>Fancy Free.</b><br /> +<b>Mead and Stream.</b><br /> +<b>Loving a Dream.</b><br /> +<b>A Hard Knot.</b><br /> +<b>Heart's Delight.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY WILLIAM GILBERT.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Dr. Austin's Guests.</b><br /> +<b>James Duke.</b><br /> +<b>The Wizard of the Mountain.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY JAMES GREENWOOD.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Dick Temple.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY JOHN HABBERTON.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Brueton's Bayou.</b><br /> +<b>Country Luck.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY ANDREW HALLIDAY</i></div> + + +<p><b>Every-Day Papers.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY LADY DUFFUS HARDY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Paul Wynter's Sacrifice.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY THOMAS HARDY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Under the Greenwood Tree.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY J. BERWICK HARWOOD.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Tenth Earl.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Garth.</b><br /> +<b>Ellice Quentin.</b><br /> +<b>Sebastian Strome.</b><br /> +<b>Dust.</b><br /> +<b>Prince Saroni's Wife.</b><br /> +<b>Fortune's Fool.</b><br /> +<b>Miss Cadogna.</b><br /> +<b>Beatrix Randolph.</b><br /> +<b>Love—or a Name.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY SIR ARTHUR HELPS.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Ivan de Biron.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. CASHEL HOEY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Lover's Creed.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY TOM HOOD.</i></div> + + +<p><b>A Golden Heart.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. GEORGE HOOPER.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The House of Raby.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY TIGHE HOPKINS.</i></div> + + +<p><b>'Twixt Love and Duty.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. ALFRED HUNT.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Thornicroft's Model.</b><br /> +<b>The Leaden Casket.</b><br /> +<b>Self-Condemned.</b><br /> +<b>That other Person.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY JEAN INGELOW.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Fated to be Free.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY HARRIETT JAY.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>The Dark Colleen.</b><br /> +<b>The Queen of Connaught.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MARK KERSHAW.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Colonial Facts and Fictions.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY R. ASHE KING.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>A Drawn Game.</b><br /> +<b>The Wearing of the Green.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY HENRY KINGSLEY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Oakshott Castle.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY JOHN LEYS.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Lindsays.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY MARY LINSKILL.</i></div> + + +<p><b>In Exchange for a Soul.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY E. LYNN LINTON.</i><br /><br /></div> + +<p class="ns"> +<b>Patricia Kemball.</b><br /> +<b>The Atonement of Leam Dundes.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[31]</span> +<b>The World Well Lost.</b><br /> +<b>Under which Lord?</b><br /> +<b>With a Silken Thread.</b><br /> +<b>The Rebel of the Family.</b><br /> +<b>"My Love!"</b><br /> +<b>Ione.</b><br /><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY HENRY W. LUCY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Gideon Fleyce.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY JUSTIN McCARTHY.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Dear Lady Disdain.</b><br /> +<b>Miss Misanthrope.</b><br /> +<b>The Waterdale Neighbours.</b><br /> +<b>Donna Quixote.</b><br /> +<b>The Comet of a Season.</b><br /> +<b>My Enemy's Daughter.</b><br /> +<b>Maid of Athens.</b><br /> +<b>A Fair Saxon.</b><br /> +<b>Camiola.</b><br /> +<b>Linley Rochford.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. MACDONELL.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Quaker Cousins.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY KATHARINE S. MACQUOID.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>The Evil Eye.</b><br /> +<b>Lost Rose.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY W.H. MALLOCK.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The New Republic.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY FLORENCE MARRYAT.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Open! Sesame.</b><br /> +<b>Fighting the Air.</b><br /> +<b>A Harvest of Wild Oats.</b><br /> +<b>Written in Fire.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY J. MASTERMAN.</i></div> + +<p><b>Half-a-dozen Daughters.</b></p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY BRANDER MATTHEWS.</i></div> + +<p><b>A Secret of the Sea.</b></p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY JEAN MIDDLEMASS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Touch and Go.</b><br /> +<b>Mr. Dorillion.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. MOLESWORTH.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Hathercourt Rectory.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>A Life's Atonement.</b><br /> +<b>Hearts.</b><br /> +<b>A Model Father.</b><br /> +<b>Way of the World.</b><br /> +<b>Joseph's Coat.</b><br /> +<b>A Bit of Human Nature.</b><br /> +<b>Coals of Fire.</b><br /> +<b>By the Gate of the Sea.</b><br /> +<b>First Person Singular.</b><br /> +<b>Val Strange.</b><br /> +<b>Cynic Fortune.</b><br /> +<b>Old Blazer's Hero.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY ALICE O'HANLON.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Unforeseen.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. OLIPHANT.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Whiteladies.</b><br /> +<b>The Primrose Path.</b><br /> +<b>The Greatest Heiress in England.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. ROBERT O'REILLY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Phœbe's Fortunes.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY OUIDA.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Held In Bondage.</b><br /> +<b>Strathmore.</b><br /> +<b>Chandos.</b><br /> +<b>Under Two Flags.</b><br /> +<b>Idalia.</b><br /> +<b>Cecil Castlemaine's Gage.</b><br /> +<b>Tricotrin.</b><br /> +<b>Puck.</b><br /> +<b>Folle Farine.</b><br /> +<b>A Dog of Flanders.</b><br /> +<b>Pascarel.</b><br /> +<b>Signa.</b><br /> +<b>Princess Napraxine.</b><br /> +<b>Two Little Wooden Shoes.</b><br /> +<b>In a Winter City.</b><br /> +<b>Ariadne.</b><br /> +<b>Friendship.</b><br /> +<b>Moths.</b><br /> +<b>Pipistrello.</b><br /> +<b>A Village Commune.</b><br /> +<b>Bimbi.</b><br /> +<b>Wanda.</b><br /> +<b>Frescoes.</b><br /> +<b>In Maremma.</b><br /> +<b>Othmar.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MARGARET AGNES PAUL.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Gentle and Simple.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY JAMES PAYN.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Lost Sir Massingberd.</b><br /> +<b>A Perfect Treasure.</b><br /> +<b>Bentinck's Tutor.</b><br /> +<b>Murphy's Master.</b><br /> +<b>A County Family.</b><br /> +<b>At Her Mercy.</b><br /> +<b>A Woman's Vengeance.</b><br /> +<b>Cecil's Tryst.</b><br /> +<b>Clyffards of Clyffe.</b><br /> +<b>The Family Scapegrace.</b><br /> +<b>Foster Brothers.</b><br /> +<b>Found Dead.</b><br /> +<b>Best of Husbands.</b><br /> +<b>Walter's Word.</b><br /> +<b>Halves.</b><br /> +<b>Fallen Fortunes.</b><br /> +<b>What He Cost Her.</b><br /> +<b>Humorous Stories.</b><br /> +<b>Gwendoline's Harvest.</b><br /> +<b>£200 Reward.</b><br /> +<b>Like Father, Like Son.</b><br /> +<b>Marine Residence.</b><br /> +<b>Married Beneath Him.</b><br /> +<b>Mirk Abbey.</b><br /> +<b>Not Wooed, but Won.</b><br /> +<b>Less Black than We're Painted.</b><br /> +<b>By Proxy.</b><br /> +<b>Under One Roof.</b><br /> +<b>High Spirits.</b><br /> +<b>Carlyon's Year.</b><br /> +<b>A Confidential Agent.</b><br /> +<b>Some Private Views.</b><br /> +<b>From Exile.</b><br /> +<b>A Grape from a Thorn.</b><br /> +<b>For Cash Only.</b><br /> +<b>Kit: A Memory.</b><br /> +<b>The Canon's Ward.</b><br /> +<b>Talk of the Town.</b><br /> +<b>Holiday Tasks.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY C.L. PIRKIS.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Lady Lovelace.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY EDGAR A. POE.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Mystery of Marie Roget.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY E.C. PRICE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Valentina.</b><br /> +<b>The Foreigners.</b><br /> +<b>Mrs. Lancaster's Rival.</b><br /> +<b>Gerald.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY CHARLES READE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>It Is Never Too Late to Mend.</b><br /> +<b>Hard Cash.</b><br /> +<b>Peg Woffington.</b><br /> +<b>Christie Johnstone.</b><br /> +<b>Griffith Gaunt.</b><br /> +<b>Put Yourself in His Place.</b><br /> +<b>The Double Marriage.</b><br /> +<b>Love Me Little, Love Me Long.</b><br /> +<b>Foul Play.</b><br /> +<b>The Cloister and the Hearth.</b><br /> +<b>The Course of True Love.</b><br /> +<b>Autobiography of a Thief.</b><br /> +<b>A Terrible Temptation.</b><br /> +<b>The Wandering Heir.</b><br /> +<b>A Simpleton.</b><br /> +<b>Readiana.</b><br /> +<b>A Woman-Hater.</b><br /> +<b>The Jilt.</b><br /> +<b>Singleheart and Doubleface.</b><br /> +<b>Good Stories of Men and other Animals.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY MRS. J.H. RIDDELL.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Her Mother's Darling.</b><br /> +<b>Prince of Wales's Garden Party.</b><br /> +<b>Weird Stories.</b><br /> +<b>Fairy Water.</b><br /> +<b>The Uninhabited House.</b><br /> +<b>The Mystery in Palace Gardens.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY F.W. ROBINSON.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Women are Strange.</b><br /> +<b>The Hands of Justice.</b></p><p class="ns"><span class="pagenum">[32]</span> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY JAMES RUNCIMAN.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Skippers and Shellbacks.</b><br /> +<b>Grace Balmaign's Sweetheart.</b><br /> +<b>Schools and Scholars.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY W. CLARK RUSSELL.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Round the Galley Fire.</b><br /> +<b>On the Fo'k'sle Head.</b><br /> +<b>In the Middle Watch.</b><br /> +<b>A Voyage to the Cape.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY BAYLE ST. JOHN.</i></div> + + +<p><b>A Levantine Family.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Gaslight and Daylight.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY JOHN SAUNDERS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Bound to the Wheel.</b><br /> +<b>One Against the World.</b><br /> +<b>Guy Waterman.</b><br /> +<b>Two Dreamers.</b><br /> +<b>The Lion In the Path.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY KATHARINE SAUNDERS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Joan Merryweather.</b><br /> +<b>Margaret and Elizabeth.</b><br /> +<b>The High Mills.</b><br /> +<b>Heart Salvage.</b><br /> +<b>Sebastian.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY GEORGE R. SIMS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Rogues and Vagabonds.</b><br /> +<b>The Ring o' Bells.</b><br /> +<b>Mary Jane's Memoirs.</b><br /> +<b>Mary Jane Married.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>A Match in the Dark.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY T.W. SPEIGHT.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>The Mysteries of Heron Dyke.</b><br /> +<b>The Golden Hoop.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY R.A. STERNDALE.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Afghan Knife.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY R. LOUIS STEVENSON.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>New Arabian Nights.</b><br /> +<b>Prince Otto.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY BERTHA THOMAS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Cressida.</b><br /> +<b>Proud Maisie.</b><br /> +<b>The Violin-Player.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY W. MOY THOMAS.</i></div> + + +<p><b>A Fight for Life.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY WALTER THORNBURY.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Tales for the Marines.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Diamond Cut Diamond.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY ANTHONY TROLLOPE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>The Way We Live Now.</b><br /> +<b>The American Senator.</b><br /> +<b>Frau Frohmann.</b><br /> +<b>Marion Fay.</b><br /> +<b>Kept In the Dark.</b><br /> +<b>Mr. Scarborough's Family.</b><br /> +<b>The Land-Leaguers.</b><br /> +<b>The Golden Lion of Granpere.</b><br /> +<b>John Caldigate.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY F. ELEANOR TROLLOPE.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Like Ships upon the Sea.</b><br /> +<b>Anne Furness.</b><br /> +<b>Mabel's Progress.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY J.T. TROWBRIDGE.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Farnell's Folly.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Stories from Foreign Novelists.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY MARK TWAIN.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Tom Sawyer.</b><br /> +<b>A Tramp Abroad.</b><br /> +<b>A Pleasure Trip on the Continent of Europe.</b><br /> +<b>The Stolen White Elephant.</b><br /> +<b>Huckleberry Finn.</b><br /> +<b>Life on the Mississippi.</b><br /> +<b>The Prince and the Pauper.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY C.C. FRASER-TYTLER.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Mistress Judith.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY SARAH TYTLER.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>What She Came Through.</b><br /> +<b>The Bride's Pass.</b><br /> +<b>Saint Mungo's City.</b><br /> +<b>Beauty and the Beast.</b><br /> +<b>Lady Bell.</b><br /> +<b>Noblesse Oblige.</b><br /> +<b>Citoyenne Jacquiline.</b><br /> +<b>Disappeared.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY J.S. WINTER.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Cavalry Life.</b><br /> +<b>Regimental Legends.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>BY H.F. WOOD.</i></div> + + +<p><b>The Passenger from Scotland Yard.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY LADY WOOD.</i></div> + + +<p><b>Sabina.</b></p> + + +<div class="center"><i>BY EDMUND YATES.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Castaway.</b><br /> +<b>The Forlorn Hope.</b><br /> +<b>Land at Last.</b><br /> +</p> + +<div class="center"><i>ANONYMOUS.</i></div> + +<p> +<b>Paul Ferroll.</b><br /> +<b>Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife.</b><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>POPULAR SHILLING BOOKS.</h3> + +<p> +<b>Jeff Briggs's Love Story.</b> By <span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>.<br /> +<b>The Twins of Table Mountain.</b> By <span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>.<br /> +<b>A Day's Tour.</b> By <span class="smcap">Percy Fitzgerald</span>.<br /> +<b>Mrs. Gainsborough's Diamonds.</b> By <span class="smcap">Julian Hawthorne</span>.<br /> +<b>A Dream and a Forgetting.</b> By ditto.<br /> +<b>A Romance of the Queen's Hounds.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles James</span>.<br /> +<b>Kathleen Mavourneen.</b> By Author of "That Lass o' Lowrie's."<br /> +<b>Lindsay's Luck.</b> By the Author of "That Lass o' Lowrie's."<br /> +<b>Pretty Polly Pemberton.</b> By the Author of "That Lass o' Lowrie's."<br /> +<b>Trooping with Crows.</b> By <span class="smcap">C.L. Pirkis</span>.<br /> +<b>The Professor's Wife.</b> By <span class="smcap">L. Graham</span>.<br /> +<b>A Double Bond.</b> By <span class="smcap">Linda Villari</span>.<br /> +<b>Esther's Glove.</b> By <span class="smcap">R.E. Francillon</span>.<br /> +<b>The Garden that Paid the Rent.</b> By <span class="smcap">Tom Jerrold</span>.<br /> +<b>Curly.</b> By <span class="smcap">John Coleman</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">J.C. Dollman</span>.<br /> +<b>Beyond the Gates.</b> By <span class="smcap">E.S. Phelps</span>.<br /> +<b>Old Maid's Paradise.</b> By <span class="smcap">E.S. Phelps</span>.<br /> +<b>Burglars in Paradise.</b> By <span class="smcap">E.S. Phelps</span>.<br /> +<b>Jack the Fisherman.</b> By <span class="smcap">E.S. Phelps</span>.<br /> +<b>Doom: An Atlantic Episode.</b> By <span class="smcap">Justin H. McCarthy</span>, M.P.<br /> +<b>Our Sensation Novel.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">Justin H. McCarthy</span>, M.P.<br /> +<b>Bible Characters.</b> By <span class="smcap">Chas. Reade</span>.<br /> +<b>The Dagonet Reciter.</b> By <span class="smcap">G.R. Sims</span>.<br /> +<b>Wife or No Wife?</b> By <span class="smcap">T.W. Speight</span>.<br /> +<b>By Devious Ways.</b> By <span class="smcap">T.W. Speight</span>.<br /> +<b>The Silverado Squatters.</b> By <span class="smcap">R. Louis Stevenson</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="center">J. OGDEN AND CO. LIMITED, PRINTERS, GREAT SAFFRON HILL, E.C.<br /><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="notes"> +<h3>Transcriber's Notes.</h3> + +<p>Obvious typesetting errors have been corrected. Questionable or vintage spelling has been left as printed in the +original publication. Inconsistencies in spelling have been normalized.</p> + +<p>Punctuation (commas, periods and colons) has been supplied for +consistency in the formatting of the List of Books following the main +text.</p> + +<p><b>Page 203:</b> Supplied a comma, presumably missed in typesetting (evidenced +by a blank space in original publication). Shown in brackets in the +following: "... unequal to the subject—too low[,] pedestrian, and +creeping...."</p> + +<p><b>Page 229:</b> Transcribed "this" as "his". As originially printed: "Unto this last."</p> + +<p><b>Page 17 (List of Books):</b> Transcribed "Armoy" as "Armory". +As originially printed: "By A.E. Sweet and J. Armoy Knox".</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Eulogy of Richard Jefferies, by Walter Besant + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES *** + +***** This file should be named 36228-h.htm or 36228-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/2/2/36228/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Gary Rees and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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