MMHHWHHflHiil 
 
 Hi 
 
 m 
 
 RQHBfl^^ 
 
 .' 
 
.ijf Uifji 
 
 
 M'^i^ 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 PRESENTED BY THE 
 
 WILLIAM A. WHITAKER 
 
 FOUNDATION 
 
 W823 
 M12330 
 
 a*- 
 
 Hi 
 
 il 
 
 
.^^ 
 
 Jtc \ /?P/ 
 
 This BOOK may be kept out ONE MONTH 
 
 unless a recall notice is sent to you. A book 
 may be renewed only once; it must be brought 
 to the library for renewal. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 JUSTIN HUNTLY MCCARTHY, M.P. 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1886 
 
 [The right of translation is reserved"} 
 
PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 
 LONDON 
 
TO THE UNKNOWN AUTHOR OF THESE PAGES 
 
 § PeMcatc 
 
 THEIR VERY LONG DEFERRED APPEARANCE IN PRINT 
 
 IN THE HOPE THAT THEY MAY PERHAPS MEET HIS EYE 
 AND EARN FOR ME HIS GRATITUDE 
 
 989779 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2013 
 
 http://archive.org/details/oursensationnoveOOmcca 
 
PROEM. 
 
 How the following story came into my possession I do not 
 intend to say. Perhaps I obtained it, as the student in 
 Hans Andersen's story obtained his precious volume, at 
 a huckster's counter. Perhaps I found it, as Cervantes 
 professed to have found the story of his hero, extant and 
 written in very choice Arabic. Perhaps I discovered it 
 hidden away behind a wine-cask in a cellar, as, if I 
 remember rightly, the love lyrics of Propertius were dis- 
 covered. Let it suffice that it is at once mine and not 
 mine — ^mine in the sense in which the hair of Smollett's 
 beau was his own, namely, that it is my property ; not 
 mine, because, to my regret, I am not the author. 
 
 It has occurred to me that I should be acting in 
 unkindly fashion towards a generation that revels in sensa- 
 tional romance if I were to keep any longer to myself my 
 mysterious MS. When I read it for the first time, I seemed 
 to find lurking between its lines strange reminiscences 
 of older times and things ; echoes of other stories rang in 
 my ears, and before my eyes there moved a pallid proces- 
 
vi PROEM 
 
 sion of ghosts, the phantoms of an earUer fiction. As 
 certain faint perfumes and certain tender tunes arouse 
 ancient and undefinable memories, so this story has aroused 
 vague recollections which decline to take decided shape. 
 Whether the tale will kindle like associations in other 
 minds, whether others will succeed in solving the problem 
 that has puzzled me, remains yet to be seen. 
 
 Justin Huntly M^Cakthy. 
 
CONTEiNTS. 
 
 CHAITER 
 
 Preface 
 
 PAGE 
 1 
 
 I. A Prelude of Mystery. 2 
 
 II. Little Simon Smiffles and the Four Strangers . 5 
 III. The Narrative of Louis Farbrick, Physician . 12 
 
 IV. Philip le Bel 
 V. The Miserable 
 VI. Count Foscoli, the Exile 
 ,VII. L'Amour Medecin . 
 VIII. The Encounter 
 IX. The Park Lane Tragedy 
 X. The Epopee of the Ked-Brick House 
 
 . 31 
 . 47 
 . 61 
 . 75 
 . 93 
 . 99 
 . 104 
 
 XI. The Seven Lamps and the Fiery Extinguisher , 110 
 
 xn. The Finale . . . . , , . . .Hi 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 ' Theodosius/ suddenly exclaimed my wife, Constantia, 
 * we are poor ! ' 
 
 I acknowledged the fact. 
 
 * Our eldest son,' proceeded the matron, * to-morrow 
 departs for college ; our eldest daughter requires her 
 trousseau ! ' 
 
 * It is true,' I calmly replied. Husbands and wives, in 
 the domestic drama, always thus narrate to each other in 
 their moments of stage privacy the most familiar circum- 
 stances of their lives. 
 
 * We want money,' she continued, ' and you have not 
 got any.' 
 
 I assented. 
 
 * Then,' she exclaimed, * why don't you get money ? 
 Why don't you write a sensation novel ? ' 
 
 I faltered. I urged that I had never read a novel of 
 any kind. She promptly replied, * Send to Mudie's ; read 
 up five or six, catch the style, and go to work.' 
 
 The idea was at least a striking one. Why not ? 
 
 * Constantia,' I exclaimed, fired with the thought, * do 
 you pledge me your assistance ? ' 
 
 * Hear me swear,' was the answer of that remarkable 
 woman. 
 
 B 
 
2 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 We buried ourselves deep in a pile of novels. I read 
 one half and she the other. We only studied the successful, 
 and our aim was the sensational. 
 
 Having read sufficient, we then wrote. On a given 
 day I triumphantly produced my half; Constantia laid her 
 bundle of manuscript, charmingly crossed and re-crossed, 
 beside mine. 
 
 W^e arranged the work in alternate chapters. Each 
 pronounced the other's share a masterpiece. The produc- 
 tion blended wonderfully. We read the whole to a literary 
 friend, who observed that he feared there was a lack of 
 originality — an appearance of imitation — about some few 
 passages. Of course he was absurdly mistaken. He ad- 
 vised us against publication. We saw through his motive, 
 and at once rejected his advice. 
 
 To a public possessed of higher appreciation we offer 
 the result of our combined labours — our own Sensation 
 Novel. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 a peelude of mysteey. 
 
 Night and Slumber ! 
 
 Nay, was it night, and was it slumber ? or was it 
 mystery, and was it death ? 
 
 A chamber silent and softly -lighted ; only one small 
 window, and even that draped with rich, heavy purple 
 curtains. It was such a chamber as might have suited 
 the illustrator of a book of beauty wherein to enshrine his 
 fair forms. The floor was so covered with the richest 
 carpeting of Turkey that the heaviest footfall awakened 
 not the slightest sound. The walls were draperied with 
 gilded silk and velvet such as the divan of an Egyptian 
 pasha might hardly display. No chairs were seen, but 
 ottomans and cushions were scattered carelessly over the- 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 3 
 
 iloor. Need it be said that no flaring gas vulgarised such 
 an apartment as this ? Only one soft lamp upon a small 
 table diffusing a faint white light over a portion of the 
 room — the rest lost in shadow. In the deepest shade a 
 couch. If the eye of any strange spectator were upon that 
 room he might, as his vision grew accustomed to the semi- 
 darkness, have discerned that on that couch was a recum- 
 bent female form — a girl, young, beautiful, motionless, 
 seemingly lifeless. She wore the costume of European 
 women — that is, of European women when they sleep. 
 Her face was pale as that of the marble Diana. Long 
 tresses of raven hair streamed over her white garment and 
 Avhiter shoulders. 
 
 Wliat is that pale shadow upon the wall beside the 
 couch? Not the reflex conjured up by some phantas- 
 magorial process of the dead or sleeping form ? So like 
 in garb and outline ! No ! this is a reality, and the reality 
 of a breathing, moving form. A form which bends over 
 the couch long and carefully scrutinises the features of the 
 motionless occupant, and at last advances into the light. It 
 is the figure of a woman, draped in white, and with sable 
 hair streaming over her shoulders — a woman apparently 
 older, certainly more v\'orn and wasted, than the being 
 who lies sleepless and seemingly pulseless. The eyes of 
 the watcher as she turned them towards the sleeper v/ere 
 of a lustrous, starry weirdness. And she sighed — such a 
 sigh ! 
 
 ' It is time,' she faintly murmured. ' I must revive her, 
 or it will be too late ! ' 
 
 She drew from the folds of her robe a small phial filled 
 with some crimson liquid, wdiich emitted sparkles luminous 
 as those of the ruby. 
 
 * Yet a little longer,' she said in a meditative tone; 
 ' live yet a little longer, that I may live on — on ! Then 
 shall come release for you — life for me ! ' 
 
 She bent once more over the couch. No pulsation was 
 
 b2 
 
4 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 apparent ; no breath was heard. After a moment's pause 
 she held the phial, from which she had removed its silver 
 stopper, beneath the nostrils of the entranced sleeper, and 
 she muttered meanwhile some mystic words, breathed like 
 a chant, sounding like a spell in some unknown tongue. 
 
 The slumberer sighed deeply, heavily, opened her eyes, 
 breathed again, and then shuddered. 
 
 A small time -piece at that moment chimed with a 
 delicate and silvery stroke the hour of twelve. 
 
 Twelve o'clock on the night of the thirty-Hrst of March, 
 18G1 ! Let the day and hour be noted ! 
 
 At that very hour, on that very day, just as that clock 
 was chiming, just as that sleeper awakened, four human 
 beings, separated by space, by rank, by association, by 
 character, shivered, started, sighed, and awakened. These 
 beings were Louis Farbrick, the physician ; Philip Latimer, 
 the Temple student ; Pierre Valpierre, the convict ; and 
 Count Foscoli, the exile. We shall meet these men here- 
 after. 
 
 Meanwhile the watcher stooped over the couch, and 
 pressed her lips to the white bare arm of the girl. 
 
 The awakening girl sighed again, then sobbed suddenly 
 and passionately. 
 
 * Have I been long asleep ? ' at last she said. * Oh, I 
 have had such terrible dreams. Even still, I scarcely know 
 who I am or who you are ! I dare not recall what I have 
 dreamed.' 
 
 * Be composed,' said the elder female calmly, * We are 
 preparing for a journey. And you need rest.' 
 
 This scene is but the prelude. It forms no part of the 
 narrative which is to follow ; but it may serve to shed a 
 dim light upon that which might otherwise be all mystery 
 and darkness. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL $ 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 LITTLE SIMON SMIFFLES AND THE FOUK STKANGERS. 
 
 SouTHWARK Beidge, Londoii, is scarcely a cheerful pro- 
 menade under the best of circumstances. If a man were 
 to describe South wark Bridge, London, as a lively place, 
 that man might be considered a mistaken individual. The 
 traffic which crosses Southwark Bridge is not great ; the 
 number of coppers which are deposited upon the metallic 
 counter of the toll-bar are not many. Barely does the 
 click of the turnstile break the subdued silence which 
 hangs over Southwark Bridge. It is not a place of popular 
 resort even for the purposes of suicide, inasmuch as the 
 number of passengers being so very small, and the toll- 
 collector having nothing whatever to do except to scru- 
 tinise the faces of each visitor, the official would be certain 
 to read in the countenance of anyone harbouring evil 
 intent the full meaning and motive of his coming, and 
 forthwith to frustrate it. A subdued melancholy hangs 
 over Southwark Bridge and its vicinity even in the midst 
 of summer. The bluebottles do not buzz there as if they 
 felt interested in anything, but only drone with a deadly- 
 lively hum as if they did not exactly know what they 
 wanted there and did not precisely care. Passengers who 
 went up and down the river in penny, steamers looked with 
 a sort of vacuous curiosity at Southwark Bridge, as to a 
 place of which nobody knew anything and about which it 
 would be scarcely worth while to inquire. 
 
 But at night and in winter ! In winter when the howl- 
 ing blast which swept across from the Surrey Hills rushed 
 over Southwark Bridge to meet the other howling blast 
 which raged down from the heights of Holborn and the 
 ascent of Tottenham. When the river surged, and foamed, 
 and bellowed around the buttresses beneath. When the 
 
6 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 fog mantled the streets and made the sky a murky yellow 
 and the eyes of passengers a fiery red. When the Strand 
 was a desert and the Haymarket a howlmg wilderness. 
 When the omnibuses staggered along the slippery streets 
 and the rattling hansom ran into the lumbering van. 
 When the barges bumped against the sides of the wharves 
 and the penny-boats did not dare to encounter the middle 
 passage from Westminster to London Bridge. When 
 people clung shivering around coffee -stands in the Borough 
 and devoured eagerly fried potatoes in Clare Market. 
 When from bright fires in warm rooms pleasant sitters 
 glanced occasionally at the windows and shuddered even 
 in their comfort to hear the rain splash against the panes. 
 When sleepers suddenly started from their dreams, awak- 
 ened by the crash of the neighbouring chimney-pot, and 
 affrighted drew their nightcaps down and their bedclothes 
 up, and shivering tried in vain to find slumber again. At 
 times like these, no man or woman would willingly have 
 sought to cross Southwark Bridge. 
 
 This, at least, was the opinion of little red-nosed 
 Simon Smiffles, the toll-keeper at the Middlesex end of 
 the bridge, on the night of the first of April, 1861. For 
 that night was wild and grim, and had been preceded by 
 a week of wildness and grimness. First there came a fall 
 of snow ; then there came a hard frost, baking and caking 
 the snow ; then there came a thaw, melting the frost ; 
 then there came rain, turning the melting frost and snow 
 into mud and ooze ; then there came wind, blowing the 
 rain in the faces of all wayfarers. And the wind was at 
 its highest, the rain at its fastest, the mud at its deepest, 
 the fog at its densest, at about a quarter before twelve 
 o'clock on the night of the first of April, 1861. 
 
 * There'll be nobody else come through this night,' 
 said little red-nosed Simon Smiffles. ' I think I'll take 
 a turn-in.' His nose was very red, partly from nature, 
 partly from cold, and a good deal from rum- and- water. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 7 
 
 He was a small man, hoarse of voice and somewhat fishy 
 of eye. ^ I thmk I'll turn m,' said little Simon SmifHes, 
 rubbing the reddest part of the red nose with a solitary 
 halfpenny which he had received an hour before from a 
 dejected tinker who had passed on to the Borough. As he 
 spoke and as he rubbed, he took a last look up the river. 
 The round fiery face of the clock-tower looked down upon 
 him through the fog and the rain from the distant West- 
 minster. The clock glared upon Simon's nose, and Simeon's 
 nose glared back upon the clock. 
 
 ' Good-night,' said the Nose to the Clock. ^ I think I'll 
 
 take a turn Hallo ! what's that ? As I'm blest, it's 
 
 someone a- coming through after all — drat 'em ! ' 
 
 The turnstile creaked, rattled, and twirled. Simon ran 
 to his post. By the light of the lamp at the gate Simon 
 saw a tall figure passing through. One glimpse of a tall 
 figure passing, a form wrapped in a cloak, a sallow cheek, 
 a thick foreign moustache, a set of white teeth which 
 gleamed upon Simon with a strange effect. 
 
 * A wet night, friend,' said the stranger with the white 
 teeth. 
 
 * Aye, that it be, rayther,' said Simon, in a tone which 
 seemed to say, ' You needn't come out here at the dead of 
 night, teeth and all, to tell us that.' But Simon did not 
 say this, he only thought it. 
 
 ^ Good-night,' said the gleaming teeth. 
 ^ Good-night,' rejoined Simon, * and good-luck,' lie 
 added in a grumbling under- tone. 
 
 * Now what on earth,' thought Simon, 'brings a man 
 with a handsome cloak and fur collar, a black moustache 
 and white teeth, crossing South wark Bridge at the dead of 
 night ? It can't be suicide, men are never so polite and 
 friendly when they're going to do that, they're always 
 looking about them in a scared sort of way. I kept the 
 toll-bar at Waterloo Bridge long enough to know that/ 
 added Simon. * He's not going on, neither,' said Simon, 
 
8 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 * for there are his teeth shimng on the other parapet 
 through all the fog. "Well, it's no affair of mine ; suicide 
 or not, it's nothing to do with me. Now I think I'll take 
 a turn-in,' and he rubbed the red nose again with the half- 
 penny which he had just received. 
 
 ' Hallo ! what sound is that ? The turnstile again ! 
 Another passenger !' 
 
 This time a man, seen plainly enough, in the garb of 
 an operative. Possibly, from his aspect, a worker in iron. 
 A tall, powerful, elderly man about eight -and-fifty years of 
 age, with thick hair grey and grizzled, and an expression 
 of face severe and thoughtful, yet with a soft and benevo- 
 lent eye. 
 
 * This is South wark Bridge, good friend, is it not ? ' 
 asked the stranger in a deep voice and with a foreign 
 accent. 
 
 * I should think so,' said Simon. * Stay, don't be 
 in a hurry, you have given me sixpence. Wait for your 
 change.' 
 
 The stranger stopped and gazed upon the thin red- 
 nosed figure. 
 
 * Friend,' he said, * you are old and haply cold. It is a 
 severe night for one so old to watch and wait. I, too, 
 have watched and been cold. Keep the change for your- 
 self.' 
 
 Simon stared. He had been a toll-collector, man and 
 boy, for five -and- thirty years, and no one had ever prof- 
 fered him even a voluntary halfpenny before. As if to 
 assure himself of the reality of the fact, he took up the 
 sixpence and rubbed his nose with it. The man had 
 passed on. 
 
 ' Well,' said Simon, ' this is a go ! Two people passing 
 over the bridge near twelve o'clock within a minute of 
 each other, and one of 'em gives me a sixpence ! ' He 
 rubbed his nose again. Perhaps he was about to talk 
 once more of turning in, when to his utter amazement a 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 9 
 
 hansom came rattling up to the toll-bar, and a young man 
 sprang out, flung a com to the driver, and then prepared to 
 pass on to the bridge. He paused a moment to light a 
 cigar, and Simon saw a handsome face and a youthful 
 figure. * A swell,' murmured Simon, at once with prac- 
 tised eye divining the social character of the passenger. 
 * A swell from a party. But what he wants sending away 
 his 'ansom and walking across Southwark Bridge in this 
 rain, is more than I can guess. It quite beats me,' said 
 Simon, and he rubbed his nose again. 
 
 Yes, the latter comer, the swell, had passed on to the 
 bridge, and clearly had no intention of passing off it. He 
 walked half-way across and then turned back, and then 
 kept pacing slowly up and down. When he turned towards 
 Simon, the gleam of his cigar marked his presence like the 
 light of the glow-worm. On the other parapet and in the 
 dark of a recess, Simon thought he could sometimes see 
 a row of gleaming teeth. And plain to any eyes, close 
 under a lamp, stood the foreign working man. Simon 
 could hear him slowly whistling a solemn tune familiar to 
 the congregation of the dissenting body. 
 
 Simon had had so many surprises that night, that I 
 don't believe that he would have been in the least amazed 
 if the teeth and cigar had set to fighting a duel with 
 rapiers, and the whistle had acted as second to both. He 
 therefore did not feel in the least amazed when a handsome 
 brougham drove up to his toll-bar, and a well-dressed 
 dignified man under forty years of age came out and pre- 
 pared to pass on to the bridge. 
 
 * Shall I wait, sir ? ' asked the coachman, touching his 
 livery hat. 
 
 * No,' answered the new-comer. * Straight home — and 
 not a word to anyone.' 
 
 The brougham rattled away, its late occupant paid his 
 toll, giving a fourpenny piece and receiving back the 
 change in a calm and self-possessed manner. He too 
 
lo OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 moved on to the bridge and passed the cigar without re- 
 cognition, without apparent surprise. 
 
 * I know that last cove's face,' said Simon. * He's a 
 doctor, I'm as good as certain. Hallo ! What if they are 
 going to fight a dooel and he's come to look after the 
 wounded ! ' 
 
 How long Simon might have meditated over this view 
 of the question and rubbed his nose to aid his deliberations, 
 there are now no means of knowino*. For while he thus 
 stood and thought, the silent air was startled by the 
 chimes of the great clocks preparing to toll, and the mid- 
 night hour, St. Paul's midnight hour, St. Paul's on Simon's 
 left and the Clock Tower upon his right, took up the stroke 
 together. Hush ! One ! Two ! 
 
 Simon distinctly saw the teeth gleam from the dark- 
 ness as their owner emerged from his place of concealment. 
 
 Three ! 
 
 Simon saw the fiery spark of the cigar flash through 
 the fog and disappear, as if the smoker in wild impatience 
 had hurled it into the darkling torrent which rushed be- 
 neath the arches of South wark Bridge. 
 
 Four ! 
 
 The notes of the congregational hymn ceased to vibrate 
 in the clear whistle of the stranger. 
 
 Five! 
 
 The last comer paused in his measured walk and stood 
 suddenly still. 
 
 Six! 
 
 To his dying day Simon will affirm that just at that 
 moment the light in the Clock Tower suddenly went out 
 and all was dark. 
 
 Seven ! 
 
 Hark, wdiat distant sound of rapid wheels awakening 
 the echoes of the Surrey side ! Through the sough of 
 the wild wind, through the roar of the wild water, Simon 
 heard them, heard them, heard them. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL ii 
 
 Eight ! Nine ! Ten ! 
 
 The wheels are heard dashing madly onv/ard. Nearer 
 and nearer ! 
 
 Eleven ! 
 
 The wheels are on the bridge ! From the Surrey side ! 
 They came. 
 
 Twelve ! 
 
 The bridge rattles, bends, sways, and creaks mider the 
 weight of a heavy carriage drawn by four fierce foam- 
 covered horses. The carriage is dashed and splashed Avith 
 mud to its very roof. Simon starts forward to see it as it 
 passes. All the four strangers, two on each side, rush to 
 gaze, none heeding the other. One moment all is dark- 
 ness, through which only the carriage, its horses, and its 
 mud, can be dimly discerned by the keen and practised 
 eve. Then what sudden flash was that ? Too white and 
 pale for lightning, even if lightning could flash from 
 yonder murky, fog-mantled heavens. But it was a white 
 and pale light, revealed perhaps from the carriage itself, 
 which fell like a flash upon the inside of the vehicle and 
 upon the gazers outside at once. And in the sudden glare 
 all could see one pale face at the open carriage windows, 
 now for an instant at this side, now for an instant at 
 that, the pale face of a sad girl, with raven hair mantling 
 round her shoulders, with eyes which gazed out upon the 
 night so deep, so lustrous, so melancholy, so starlike, that 
 even old Simon felt his own watery orbs more watery for 
 a tear as he looked upon the strange apparition. Only a 
 moment the woman's face looked forth. Only a moment 
 the pale brow was illumined by the light of the sad, 
 spiritual, wondrous eyes, which gleamed Avith so deep a 
 lustre beneath it ! Only a moment, and the carriage had 
 dashed onwards, through the gates, and was swallowed up 
 in night and darkness like the night and darkness from 
 whence it had come, through which it had passed ! 
 
 * It is she,' murmured the moustached stranger (he of 
 
12 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 the teeth), * it is indeed she, I must prepare!* And, 
 calmly humming an air from * Lm^line,' he turned and 
 left the bridge. 
 
 * Only one look ! ' whispered the foreign mechanic. 
 * But that was enough, I shall not be wanting when the 
 hour comes ; I shall know her again, and I shall be found 
 watching.' He resumed his hymn and slowly departed. 
 
 * Am I in my senses ? ' the swell asked himself. * I 
 seem to myself to be sane. I know I am here on Soutli- 
 wark Bridge very wet at twelve o'clock in the morning, 
 and yet ! That face, those eyes ! ' He was gone. 
 
 * Can such things be ! ' muttered he whom Simon had 
 called a doctor. ^ Then where is Science, where Philo- 
 sophy ? ' 
 
 Simon did not know where they were. But he knew 
 that even although he should now turn in there was no 
 sleep for him that night. 
 
 CHAPTEE ni. 
 
 THE NAREATIVE OF LOUIS FAEBRICK, PHYSICIAN. 
 
 I DO not expect any one now to believe the extraordinary 
 narrative I am about to relate. Nevertheless, I relate it, 
 partly to relieve my own overburdened mind, partly for the 
 benefit of the more purified and expanded science which is 
 destined to arise hereafter. The world, guided by the 
 mere outward signs, has called me a skilled, successful, 
 and wise physician. Did I record in my real name the 
 narrative I am now about to pen under the assumed name 
 of Louis Farbrick, it would pronounce me idiot, madman. 
 Perhaps hereafter it may honour me as savant, sage, philo- 
 sopher, prophet. So be it. In the East the madman and 
 the prophet are believed identical. 
 Let me proceed. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 13 
 
 I had inherited a large fortune, and I devoted myself to 
 the healing art merely from love of science. I had been 
 trained to medicine in the profomid schools of Germany ; I 
 had redeemed my mind by patient study from prejudice, 
 and I returned to England a believer in nothing. 
 
 I settled in the town of X., a hundred miles away from 
 the metropolis, and there I soon had a large and growing 
 circle of patients. I devoted myself to the healing art and 
 to the production of a work, over which years of labour 
 and thought were to be spent, and which was destined to 
 prove that all existing science w^as sham — that all possible 
 theology was drivel. 
 
 I occupied a huge and antique mansion on the summit 
 of a hill. Once this mansion was a monastery. Although 
 a lonely bachelor, I loved a great house and vast apart- 
 ments. I occupied as my study a room which had been 
 the library. I filled it with the most precious volumes of 
 the earthly science which I disdained and designed to 
 confute. I ornamented its walls with the skeletons of 
 the various forms of animal creation and their brother 
 Man. 
 
 But I went into society very frequently. Every physi- 
 cian must do this ; and I so loved my art that I made 
 freely for its practice all the sacrifices which the poorest 
 have to make. I loved to heal. I delighted to wrestle 
 with disease. I exulted when, summoned at the latest 
 moment, after every other physician had abandoned hope 
 and effort, to interpose between Death and his prey, and to 
 rob the despoiler of his prize. 
 
 One evening I was in company at the house of a lady 
 who held a high position in the town of X. The conversa- 
 tion turned upon the newly-discovered amusement of spirit- 
 rapping. Some of the guests were disposed to believe in 
 it. I scoffed at it and them. I overwhelmed them with 
 my science, my eloquence, my irony. I even went so far 
 as to prove that there could be no spiritual agencies, inas- 
 
14 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 much as tliere could be no spirits. Periiaps tlic lady of 
 the house thought the conversation was trenching upon 
 dangerous ground, for she suddenly interposed by saying : 
 
 * Well, Dr. Farbrick, I think if you saw my next-door 
 neighbour you would quite believe in spirits. Such a pale 
 face — and such eyes ! And her daughter — for daughter I 
 suppose she is — with a face still paler and eyes still brighter. 
 I wish you saw them. And to think that they should have 
 taken the haunted house too i ' 
 
 I was impatient at the interruption. What did I care 
 about Mrs. Graham's next-door neighbours, their pale faces, 
 and their eyes ? Invalids of all kinds commonly came pour- 
 ing into our town. 
 
 But to my surprise everybody was interested in the 
 new-comers. They appeared to be wealthy and somewhat 
 eccentric ladies, who chose to live alone and to make no 
 acquaintances. They were supposed by some to be mother 
 and daughter, by others to be sisters. Everybody had 
 some ridiculous anecdote to tell about them. One had 
 seen the younger lady at night gazing from her bedroom 
 window at the stars — truly a marvellous prodigy ; another, 
 wandering on the sea -shore at midnight, had met the elder, 
 attired all in white, pacing the strand within reach of the 
 surf, and, as he positively affirmed, conversing with the 
 waves ; a third, a young officer, jestingly, or half-jestingly, 
 affirmed that he had seen the elder in India some years 
 before, but that she was then a Bayadere. The talk grew 
 loud and animated. 
 
 * Of whom do you speak ? ' asked the grandfather of the 
 hostess, a melancholy, doting old man, ninety years of age, 
 who always sat in a stuffed chair by the fire winter and 
 summer, and rarely opened his lips. 
 
 * Only of a lady newly come to live here, grandfather,' 
 replied Mrs. Graham. ' She passed under our window 
 yesterday ; you saw her, I think.' 
 
 * Yes, yes,' he replied, ' I know her ; that's Noma 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 15 
 
 Strange. I knew her long ago ; she's been a long time 
 away ; but she doesn't look any older.' 
 
 * Poor grandpapa ! ' whispered Mrs. Graham ; ^ his mind 
 is with his youth and its memories. I have heard my 
 mother talk of Noma Strange. She was a lady who came 
 from abroad, married to a Mr. Strange of this town, and 
 they lived together here — indeed, in the very haunted 
 house we were talking of; but her husband died soon, and 
 I believe there w^ere queer rumours and suspicions. At all, 
 events, people ceased to visit Mrs. Strange, and she soon 
 went away — to the East, I believe. I suppose she died 
 there ; at least, she was gone long before my mother's 
 time.' 
 
 * Your mother,' said the old man, 'was a baby at the 
 breast when Noma Strange went away, sixty-five years 
 ago ! And so she has come back again after all, and looks 
 as young as ever. Ah, she was a wild one. Noma Strange 
 — something always odd about her ! Come back again to 
 the old place after sixty-five years ! ' . 
 
 I am sorry to say that some of the younger folks were 
 tittering. I was pained at the poor old man's babble. 
 
 * Whom has she got with her ? ' asked the old man. 
 ' Not her daughter ? Noma Strange had no daughter 
 when she went from here.' 
 
 ' Grandpapa,' said Mrs. Graham, ' don't talk in tliat 
 foolish way. We don't know anything about Mrs. Strange ; 
 she must have been dead years before we were born. We 
 are speaking of a lady, quite a young person, who has just 
 come to live in X.' 
 
 * I tell you,' said the old man, partly raising himself in 
 his chair and speaking in shrill and animated tones, * I 
 saw the w^oman you mean passing this window, and it's 
 Noma Strange herself ! Do you think I don't know Noma 
 Strange ? There were not so many like her. Why, I was 
 in love with her myself ; but she was a qfaeer one. Look 
 here — here's her portrait.' And the poor old creature, 
 
1 6 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 after much fumbling, produced a small medallion, which 
 he extended in his shaking hand. Some one took it, out of 
 mere good-nature to satisfy the aged dreamer. 
 
 * Well, I do protest,' said the first who received it, ' that 
 I don't wonder at Mr. Marley's belief. This certainly is a 
 face as like that of our new neighbour as one face can be 
 to another. And what a remarkable countenance ! What 
 eyes ! ' 
 
 The miniature was passed from hand to hand, and each 
 new recipient wondered more than the last at the striking 
 likeness. 
 
 * I do really believe,' said Mrs. Graham, * grandpapa is 
 so far right that our new resident must be the daughter 
 or granddaughter of this terrible Noma Strange. What a 
 name, and what a face ! Do look at this face, Dr. Far- 
 brick.' 
 
 I took the miniature very coldly and carelessly. I 
 thought it highly probable that the daughter or grand- 
 daughter of a former resident might have come to visit X. 
 and might be like her grandmother. And the circumstance 
 did not strike me as either remarkable or interesting. So 
 I took the miniature carelessly, but I confess I started 
 when I looked at it. 
 
 * Why,' I said, * this is no Mrs. Strange. This is a 
 miniature — and remarkably well -executed, too — of Lamia 
 Montbesome, the famous sorceress of James the Second's 
 days : the last great witch who was burned for pretending 
 she could renew youth by the sacrifice of human victims. 
 I have her portrait at home by a famous artist of the day, 
 Von Sabbat, who travelled to England especially to paint 
 her. It was given me as a dying bequest by a descendant 
 of the artist's, who was my college friend in Germany.' 
 
 * Keally,' said Mrs. Graham, ' our new visitor seems to 
 be like everybody. But we had better give grandpapa back 
 his miniature and change the subject. He will wander off 
 again if we say another word about it.' I almost think 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 17 
 
 Mrs. Graham took my remarks as a sort of badinage, and 
 was a little annoyed. 
 
 But the most singular part of the matter was that, 
 although I had laid the miniature upon the table while 
 speaking, when we came to look for it it was gone. In 
 vain we sought everywhere ; in vain every man and woman 
 present searched, shook, turned out every pocket, pocket- 
 book, case, or crypt of any kind. The miniature was gone. 
 I fear that some eyes looked strangely upon me. Only my 
 high character screened me from the base suspicion of 
 having purloined the worthless trinket. Mrs. Graham 
 looked amazed, but said not a word. Two or three present 
 had, indeed, seen me place the thing on the table, but did 
 not observe whether I took it up again or what had become 
 of it. Finally, we all agreed, or professed to agree, that it 
 would be found somewhere in the room after the guests 
 had departed ; and we sincerely congratulated ourselves 
 that the poor old man did not miss it, but had fallen back 
 into his ordinary condition of apathy or unconsciousness. 
 
 But the harmony of the evening had somehow been 
 broken up, and we separated very shortly after. I walked 
 home alone, disturbed and out of humour, I scarcely knew 
 why. 
 
 Arrived at home, I could not sleep. The night was 
 bright but wild. A clear moon and keen stars shone in the 
 heavens, but torn masses of cloud sometimes swept across 
 the sky. The beams of light now fell upon my lonely 
 chamber, and brightened into a ghastly joyousness the 
 skeletons and skulls which adorned it ; and anon a mass 
 of sombre cloud hid the orb of night, and made my grim 
 companions only dim and confused shadows. I remained 
 for a while motionless in the nearly dark room, gazing upon 
 the heavens. 
 
 * What to me,' I exclaimed internally, * what to me 
 the babble of yon dotard ? Can the dreamings of second 
 childhood disturb the meditations of the sage ? Is the 
 
 C 
 
1 8 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 pliilosoplier to be at the mercy of the fool ? Must I, the 
 savant, the acolyte of practical science, the scholar of 
 materialism, be distracted from my calm com^se by the 
 drivel of yonder foozle ? Away with the thought ! What 
 concerns me the passing visit of some idle stranger, the 
 chance resemblance of a face, the easily- explained dis- 
 a]3pearance of a portrait ? Let me return to my science 
 and my work.' 
 
 I flung myself from the window. I lighted my lamp, 
 seated myself obstinately at my desk, and opened my 
 precious manuscript. I resumed my labour upon the 
 chapters pertaining to witchcraft among our forefathers 
 and to spiritualism among ourselves. I was just bringing 
 to a close a triumphant confutation of all belief in the 
 possibility of the supernatural, and I calmly surveyed the 
 completed passages to discover if anywhere the keenest 
 criticism could note a flaw in the reasoning. No, nowhere ! 
 * Ha ! ' I exclaimed ; ' this book once published, and super- 
 stition is no more ! ' 
 
 I almost started to hear my spoken words responded to 
 by a deep sigh issuing apparently from the ground beneath 
 my feet ! 
 
 Folly ! This was the first time I had ever known in 
 practice what people mean when they talk of nerves. 1 
 smiled to myself. Alas, and is this our human science ! 
 The triumphant vindicator of materialism shudders at the 
 sound of a gust of wind ! 
 
 I glanced involuntarily at the portrait of Lamia Mont- 
 be some which hung above my chimney. 
 
 ' Poor self-deluded impostor,' I exclaimed, ' what marvel 
 that you could dupe the idle and the ignorant, when a puff 
 of wind can convert the sage into the simpleton.' 
 
 Was I awake ? Had my own scepticism, reacting, 
 made me a dreamer and a dupe? To my amazed eyes 
 a pale, wan light seemed shed around the portrait, and 
 the features seemed to move in a smile ! 
 
•IT 
 
 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 19 
 
 Determined not to yield to delusion, I tore the picture 
 from its place and laid it face downwards upon the table. 
 Too much writing, I thought, has dazzled my sight. I will 
 look upon that portrait no more until my eyes have regained 
 their wonted power. I will open my library and read. 
 
 I put my hand into my pocket to find the key, and, 
 to my intense surprise and vexation, drew forth the missing 
 portrait which had been sought for so vainly at Mrs. 
 Graham's. How had I contrived to bring it away un- 
 known to myself ? I felt satisfied that I had searched in 
 every pocket, and searched in vain. I flung the thing 
 pettishly on the table side by side with the other. By 
 Heaven, they were precisely alike ! No human eye could 
 have distinguished one from the other ! And the medallion, 
 which I had purposely laid face downv/ards, was now up- 
 turned and gazing full into my eyes ! 
 
 Again I heard the same deep sigh which had startled 
 me before from my favourite work. 
 
 Perhaps I might have grown half distraught with per- 
 plexity and anger at myself, when a loud ringing at the door 
 recalled my attention to more common life. A patient, no 
 doubt. 
 
 My male servant presently announced that Mrs. Pale- 
 grave desired my attendance immediately, and that her 
 carriage awaited me outside. 
 
 Mrs. Palegrave ! I had never heard the name before. 
 I hurried from the study, leaving everything as before, got 
 into the carriage, and was driven away. I own that I was 
 weak enough to feel some emotion when, by the intermittent 
 light of the moon, I saw that we had entered the gates of 
 the ground surrounding the long uninhabited tenement 
 which stupid gossips called the haunted house. But I had 
 little time for amazement, as I was hurried through a 
 magnificently furnished but dreary hall into an apartment 
 where, in a moment after, the lady of the house presented 
 herself. And I own that, even then, summoned to the 
 
 c 2 
 
20 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 practical and earnest duties of my sacred profession, I was 
 startled at the likeness she bore to the portraits of Noma 
 Strange and of Lamia Montbesome. 
 
 Beautiful, but intensely pale, with deep, cold, star-like 
 eyes : looking not as youth ever looks, yet presenting none 
 of the outward indications even of approaching age — such, 
 clothed all in white, was the woman who stood before me. 
 She hastily explained (in a clear, peculiar tone of voice, 
 which seemed somehow as if it came from a distance) that 
 her daughter, travelling with her for the benefit of her 
 health, had suddenly fallen ill and lay in something like 
 a trance. 
 
 One moment more, and I stood by the bedside of an 
 entranced girl ; one moment more, and I was myself 
 entranced, absorbed in the deepest, the most passionate, 
 the most unchanging love ! Yes, one glance at the form 
 which lay motionless upon that couch had decided my 
 destiny ! I loved Lucilia Palegrave — loved her madly, and 
 for ever ! 
 
 Shall I describe her ? Could I — can I — might any 
 words describe her? She was youth, she was beauty, she 
 was spirit, she was star, she was Heaven ! Otherwise, 
 she was a younger likeness of the woman who bent over 
 her. A likeness, but so different ! If Lucifer the fallen 
 had a younger brother, beautiful like him in face, but, un- 
 like him, retaining all the glory of the true angel, the 
 aspect of that younger, brighter being of light would have 
 borne the same resemblance to that of his lost elder as did 
 the face of Lucilia Palegrave to that which stooped above 
 her. 
 
 I remembered that I was a healer, not a lover. Love, 
 even the most sacred, presenting itself in the form of the 
 physician by the couch of the sick, is an unhallowed in- 
 truder. 
 
 I began by applying the usual restoratives. The first 
 sign of returning consciousness was a deep sigh — the 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 21 
 
 very sigli I liad twice heard in my distant and lonely 
 chamber ! 
 
 I suppressed all emotion. I asked of the elder lady all 
 the customary questions about previous symptoms, general 
 health, and so forth. I heard that Lucilia — I must call her 
 Lucilia — was not usually out of health, but was generally 
 fragile and delicate— of that temperament which thrills 
 with alarm the mother's heart : that sometimes she fell 
 into long reveries which rendered her almost unconscious : 
 and that on one or two occasions previous to the present 
 she had even fallen into a trance. No previous trance, 
 however, had lasted so long as this. 
 
 * Were I a believer,' I observed, * in the chimera which 
 fools call the mesmeric trance, I should say that your 
 daughter had been mesmerised by some juggling hand.' 
 
 * It cannot be,' the mother calmly answered. * No one 
 has seen her but me — and you. You, I think, foreswear 
 such delusions ? ' 
 
 I was about to repeat my profession of scepticism, w4ien 
 I happened to gaze upon the white, uncovered arm of the 
 lovely patient. 
 
 * What is this ? ' I asked ; ' she has been bled ? ' 
 
 * She has not been bled,' was the cold firm answer. 
 
 * Surely,' I whispered, * the recent mark of the lancet 
 is on that arm ? To bleed her in such a state was 
 madness ? ' 
 
 * I have already said,' replied Mrs. Palegrave, ' that 
 she has not been bled. No physician has seen her but 
 vou.' 
 
 As I judged it more prudent to allow the patient to 
 recover gradually her senses, we left the room and re- 
 turned to the outer apartment. I had given certain pre- 
 scriptions and recommended certain regulations. For the 
 first time we were together in a brightly lighted room (the 
 lamps were all illuminated that I might write), and I 
 looked at the pale face of Mrs. Palegrave with some atten- 
 
22 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 tion. I am not sure that I did not visibly start when I 
 observed that some crimson stains were mantling around 
 her lips ! I cannot describe the extraordinary, wild, 
 extravagant, incoherent, mad sensation of unmeaning 
 horror which pervaded me. Suddenly glancing at the 
 mirror, to note if my features betrayed any emotion, I sav/ 
 that Mrs. Palegrave had smiled a livid smile — the very 
 smile which I believed I had seen for a moment upon the 
 pallid lips of the witch's portrait ! 
 
 * Am I destined,' I thought, Vto lose my reason to- 
 night ? Am I already mad ? Can I not look at a trum- 
 pery picture ? Can I not converse with an ordinary 
 stranger upon a common case of trance, without my senses 
 being distracted with the chimeras of the most ignorant 
 superstition ? Away such paltry dreaming. Let me dis- 
 charge my duty, and go home to rest my fevered head ! ' 
 
 Again that sigh ! This time, however, it came but 
 from the sick chamber and brought with it no supernatural 
 terror. But it seemed to me that a faint voice whispered 
 in my ear, ' Leave me not ; we need each other.' 
 
 Perhaps it was indeed but the cry of my new-born love. 
 I resolved to obey its dictates as if it were the message of 
 an angel. But I could find no excuse for prolonging any 
 more my visit that night ; so, pledging myself to call early 
 next morning — oh, how I longed for the morning ! — I was 
 conveyed home again in the carriage which had been kept 
 waiting for me. When I was leaving Mrs. Palegrave 
 placed in my hand the customary fee— I know not what 
 impulse urged, nay, forced me to fling it from the carriage 
 window. 
 
 At home again ! My heart was distracted with new 
 love, and with other emotions as new, but less delicious. 
 I entered my study. All was dark save for one bright 
 beam of blue light. It beamed around the witch's portrait. 
 
 * Curious phosphorescent effect,' I murmured, resolved 
 to return to any rationalistic and scientific explanations. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 23 
 
 * I must examine tlie composition of this medallion to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 I lighted my lamp and took involmitarily from my 
 shelves the quaint old volume detailing the life, preten- 
 sions, and death of the beautiful, deceitful, and unfortunate 
 Lamia Montbesome. The chronicle was the work of a 
 firm and an awed believer. I smiled at its simple super- 
 stition, as I glanced over a passage or two. I had never 
 cared to read the book before. I turned over carelesslv 
 the accounts of wondrous cures, of marvellous enchantings 
 and paraly sings ; of the terrible tests applied to the un- 
 happy woman. Suddenly a sentence arrested my attention : 
 
 ' And shee boasted that she could and would live for 
 ever by means of absorbinge into herself ye life of some 
 younge may dene. And indeed she had alwaies in her 
 companie and under her sorceries some maydene who after 
 a while grewe, of outward aspect, like unto herselfe.' 
 
 Just as I had arrived at this point — and was, I own, 
 growing painfully, weakly interested — a cold air seemed to 
 pass through the room and to lift my hair v/ith a thrilling- 
 sensation. The lamp was suddenly extinguished, and the 
 book fell to the ground. I am as brave as most men, but I 
 could hear the beating of my own heart. Plainly as I have 
 ever seen aught in my life, I saw a luminous hand — the 
 hand of a woman semi-transparent white, shining in an 
 atmosphere of pale, phosphorescent unflickering fire — pass 
 through the air towards the fallen volume. A voice spoke 
 in hissing, spectral tones, the word ' Fool,' and a demonias 
 laugh resounded through the air. Then I felt my forehead 
 touched as by cold fingers — and I sank unconscious in a 
 chair. 
 
 "When I awoke it was bright day. The book and the 
 medallions were gone ! I made every search after both — 
 in vain. 
 
 Days passed away. Every happy morning I was admit- 
 ted to the presence of my beloved Lucilia. She recovered. 
 
24 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 She regained health, strength, and brightness — and all 
 through my care. In the delight of watching over her I 
 forgot my visions, or explained them away to myself by 
 some commonplace physiological solution. Mrs. Palegrave 
 became to my eyes and mind an intellectual, fascinating, 
 strangely-gifted woman, absorbed, indeed, to a somewhat 
 morbid degree in watching over the symptoms of her 
 daughter's health, but nothing more. She had apparently 
 travelled through many and distant lands. Indeed, 
 Lucilia told me that her own earliest memories were asso- 
 ciated with cities of the East, with dusky, reverential 
 attendants, with the camel and the palm. I loved Lucilia 
 more and more with each day. Her mind seemed filled 
 with the tender est thoughts, the most exquisite images of 
 beauty. Only sometimes she appeared to sink into strange 
 reveries, and she acknowledged to me that there were 
 periods when her soul seemed to leave her and dwell apart 
 — when, although moving and conscious of all outward 
 sounds and objects, she seemed to lose consciousness of 
 self when memory and even the existence of the spirit 
 seemed suspended. But of these dreamy intervals, the 
 offspring of mere nervous temperament, I fondly hoped 
 and firmly believed that I was destined to relieve her 
 wholly. For I knew she loved me ! Yes ; she had ac- 
 knowledged at last with her pure and virgin lips the love 
 I dared to read in her violet, star-illumined orbs ! What 
 cared I for fame or fortune, for metaphysics or for con- 
 troversy, for the drear babble of the dull schoolman or 
 the pretended love of the vain visionary ? Lucilia loved 
 me — and I asked no more. 
 
 Mrs. Palegrave approved of our love. She said she 
 was wealthy and needed not a wealthy suitor for her 
 daughter ; and my means in any case were ample. I was 
 received then as a suitor, and each ecstatic evening I 
 passed in the society of my Lucilia is imprinted upon my 
 memory in star-fire. 
 
UR SENS A TION NO VEL 2 5 
 
 One slight incident intervened which perplexed me a 
 little. I met Mrs. Graham. She congratulated me on 
 my approaching miion, which was known through all the 
 politer circles of X. She spoke of my intended bride 
 enthusiastically, for Mrs. Palegrave and her daughter were 
 no longer strangers in the town. But in the course of 
 casual conversation she remarked upon the old delusion of 
 her grandfather, and observed that Mrs. Palegrave cer- 
 tainly was very like the portrait of Noma Strange. * You 
 know that we found the portrait ? ' she said. I had not 
 known it — need I say that the question surprised me ? 
 
 * Oh, yes,' she added. 'We found it the next day; 
 indeed, it was lying openly on the table. I cannot com- 
 prehend how we failed to see it at the time.' 
 
 I did not tell her of my strange experience regarding 
 this picture. But I left her a little abruptly, promising 
 to meet her that night at her own house, where Mrs. Pale- 
 grave and Lucilia were to visit for the first time. 
 
 We met there. The rooms were crowded to excess. I 
 wandered with Lucilia on my arm through ball-room and 
 conservatory ; through library and boudoir. We talked 
 of happiness ; of love. 
 
 Suddenly, Mrs. Graham accompanied by Mrs. Pallgrave 
 approached. * Come,' said the former, ' I want to introduce 
 my new friends to my venerable grandfather, who longs to 
 see them.' I accompanied the three ladies. We went into 
 a small inner room where the ancient sat in his cushioned 
 chair. 
 
 ' Grandpapa ! ' said Mrs. Graham, ' I bring you a new 
 acquaintance. My very dear friend Mrs. Palegrave and 
 her daughter, Lucilia, desire to know you.' 
 
 The old man gazed a moment at Lucilia, then at her 
 mother, and started. 
 
 ' Noma Strange ! ' he exclaimed, ' Noma Strange ! 
 Have you returned to me at last, to Philip Marley ? ' 
 
 One glance at the face of Mrs. Pallgrave showed me a 
 
26 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 countenance livid and quivering with suppressed passion, 
 wherein the light of her eyes was as the spectral beam 
 which illumines the orbs of the reanimated dead ! Only 
 a moment. She was composed again and answered with 
 a calm smile : 
 
 ' Mr. Marley evidently mistakes me for some old 
 friend.' 
 
 * No,' exclaimed the old man vehemently. ^ I do not 
 mistake. You are Noma Strange ! Why are you still 
 young and beautiful, while I am old and shrivelled ? You 
 are Noma Strange ! ShoAV me the crimson mark around 
 your neck ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Palegrave drew back ; involuntarily I glanced at 
 her neck. It was covered to the chin. An unusual attire 
 for an evening party. 
 
 * We had better leave the room,' I urged. 
 
 ^ Yes,' said Mrs. Graham. ' Poor grandpapa has not 
 been quite himself this some time, he will be better 
 soon.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mrs. Palegrave, calmly, ' let us not disturb 
 him. He will be better to-morrow ! ' 
 
 Were those calm words prophetic ? That night I was 
 summoned, immediately after I had returned home, to poor 
 old Mr. Marley's bed. After he had seen Mrs. Palegrave, 
 madness seemed to have seized him. He raved of Noma 
 Strange. He became again and again convulsed. He 
 called to her now as the beloved of his youth ; now as the 
 faithless betrayer of love ; was a witch, sorceress, fiend. 
 
 * Beware of Noma Strange,' he gasped into my ear as I 
 approached him. * Beware of her ! fair as she looks, she is 
 a destroyer. Away your drugs and your words of advice ! 
 Nothing can save me. Noma Strange 's hand is on me, 
 and I am dying ! ' 
 
 I begged of all to leave the room. I was left alone 
 with the dying. He slept a little and woke somewhat 
 calmer. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 27 
 
 * Doctor,' he said, ' I have dreamed of you, and yon have 
 power which you know not. I must see Noma Strange 
 once more. Summon her and she will come.' 
 
 ' Noma Strange,' I exclaimed, ' if you be a reality and 
 not the dream of madness, appear in this chamber of 
 death!' 
 
 The lamp went out with a sigh. A cold air rushed 
 through the room ; and by the bedside of the dying man 
 stood a luminous form. Fa^int, indistinct, pale, ghastly, 
 but luminous. The form of Lamia Montbesome, of Noma 
 Strange — oh Heavens, of Mrs. Palegrave ! 
 
 * Why have you summoned me ? ' asked a clear, cold, 
 spirit voice, sounding as if it issued from the depths of 
 illimitable space and distance. 
 
 ' Noma Strange ! ' said the dying man, * leave the 
 place. Cease to persecute the innocent by your presence 
 and your spells. I command you with all the power of a 
 dying voice, to appear here no more.' 
 
 ' Fool,' replied the voice, * over me you have no power. 
 You have failed, and I have succeeded. You have lost, I 
 have w^on. You die, and I live! But I leave the place 
 where I might have abode peaceful and harmless but for 
 your folly, where you too might have lived a few wretched 
 months more but that your babbling tongue made me your 
 enemy and your destroyer. Let all who would dare to 
 whisper my secret be warned by your punishments. Fare- 
 well, and die ! ' 
 
 Darkness, and silence. I rang the bell impatiently. 
 A light was brought. Mrs. Graham, her husband, and 
 others came in. Too late even for a parting word. We 
 stood beside the couch of a corpse ! 
 
 • • • • • • • 
 
 * Over me,' the phantom had spoken to the dying man, 
 * over me you have no power.' The word was emphasised. 
 I had summoned her and she had come ! Had I then 
 power over that extraordinary existence? Exerting all 
 
28 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 my strength of will, I called upon Noma Strange, and the 
 luminous form appeared once more before me, in my lonely 
 study. 
 
 * Noma Strange,' I passionately exclaimed, ' explain to 
 me this fatal mystery ! Who are you ? Who am I ? What 
 marvellous tie binds us to each other ? ' 
 
 A mocking laugh was heard, and the phantom an- 
 swered : * You have not yet the power to bid me speak ! 
 I appear, but I answer not. Be mine and let us work to- 
 gether, and you shall be as powerful as I, and live through 
 the age like me. Consent and you are happy. I need your 
 aid, and can repay it.' 
 
 ^ Never ! ' I exclaimed, * come what will, be you fiend 
 or woman, I make no compact with Hell ! ' 
 
 Again a laugh. ' You,' said the phantom, * shall yet 
 be my slave. Were my spells ever to fail me, you are 
 mine through your weak affections. She you love is in my 
 power. Think of her and beware ! ' 
 
 The luminous form was gone, and I gazed into 
 darkness. 
 
 Alone, alone ! She whom I loved was gone. My heart 
 and hopes were crushed. What cared I for the vulgar 
 curiosity of the prying, for the stupid sneer of the practical ? 
 I neither explained nor disputed. To what avail to talk to 
 the multitude, blinded as I had been myself only a few 
 weeks before, of spectral influences, of unseen presences, of 
 agencies over which the real has no control? When 
 Lucilia Palegrave and her mother — her mother ! — left the 
 town, the babble of gossips was at first silenced by the 
 explanation that the mother sought restored health for her 
 daughter in some warmer clime. That our engagement 
 was broken off or suspended every one knew. Some sup- 
 posed nothing more than Lucilia's failing health. But as 
 I did not accompany the travellers this did not satisfy all. 
 There were those who whispered — how bitterly I laughed 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 29 
 
 wlien the whisper reached my ears — that Mrs. Palegrave 
 had detected in the suitor of her daughter the germs of 
 insanity ! Yes, I, the wise, ha ! ha ! the practical, the 
 logician, the sage of materialism, I, was pointed at as a 
 madman! Even Mrs. Graham reported that, when sum- 
 moned to the bedside of her dying grandfather, I had be- 
 haved myself like one scarcely in his right senses. "Wild 
 words which I breathed one memorable evening to Mrs. 
 Palegrave herself, had caused her to shrink from me, and 
 had flung Lucilia into that trance, the like state from 
 which all my art could not recall her. Thus, when I 
 parted from my love she knew me not, and spake not to 
 me. Indeed, I had been growing to think myself mad. 
 So calm, so final, so winning, so free of all confusion and 
 agitation, had always been the manner of Mrs. Palegrave, 
 that I sometimes thought my wild suspicions the mere 
 ravings of a growing insanity. One of the last nights 
 that I saw Lucilia, I had been suddenly sent for to attend 
 her in an attack of illness. I had risen and rushed to 
 her home. She had been weakly for some days, and 
 this night was seized with fainting fits. I hurried to 
 her bedside. Mrs. Palegrave bent over her — half dressed, 
 as she had been called from her sleeping chamber. As I 
 entered the room she rose to receive me — and I saw — yes, 
 saw — a crimson mark around her neck. The terrible 
 words of old Marley came back upon me, and I addressed 
 her in vehement reproaches as Noma Strange ! She did 
 not reply, but pointed calmly to the girl on the couch. I 
 hurried to Lucilia. She was in a trance from which no 
 skill of mine could restore her ! 
 
 I saw Mrs. Palegrave again. She never reproached me 
 or alluded to my words, but shunned being alone with me, 
 and, indeed, treated me as one might treat a valued friend 
 in whom insanity was unmistakably developing itself. 
 And so at last they were both gone, and I was alone ; a 
 shunned and haunted man. 
 
30 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 Haunted, but only by love and memory. Yes, I loved 
 her, dearly, madly, unchangingly. Her image irradiated 
 the gloom of my life. I lived in hope once more to see 
 her. She, like myself, a victim ! She, like myself, spell- 
 bound and tortured ! She, like myself, loving on for ever ! 
 Yes, in all my moments of doubt, wild wonder, alarm, 
 despair, I never despaired of seeing her again. I never 
 doubted of her loA^e. 
 
 I quitted X. and settled in London. Calmness at least 
 returned after a while, and I applied myself closely to a 
 practice which each day enlarged. I published one or two 
 books of medical science, which brought me repute in my 
 own profession. I never wrote a work on mental delusions 
 in which I treated of my own case. For I began to fancy, 
 or at least forced myself to admit, that mine was a halluci- 
 nation of the brain. Possibly, I thought, the only realities 
 underlying the whole illusion were old Philip Marley's 
 doting words and the peculiar crimson mark around Mrs. 
 Palegrave's neck. No doubt I had, unconsciously perhaps 
 at the time, seen that mark immediately after, and converted 
 it into an evidence to sustain my own brain-begotten 
 chimera. Thus I reasoned with, and at last almost con- 
 vinced myself. Watching by Lucilia's bedside no doubt 
 impaired my nerves and thus made me seem to Mrs. Pale- 
 grave a being to whom she was justified in refusing the 
 hand of a daughter who herself was a sufferer from nervous 
 weaknesses. From my own brain had come forth the witch- 
 craft which had juggled us out of love and happiness. 
 
 I studied less than before, but attended more actively 
 tlie practical duties of my professioii. I devoted myself to 
 these not indeed with the old fresh zest of earlier days, but 
 with a patient and determined energy. I stole a holiday 
 too from my duties and went abroad, I travelled by the 
 Ehine, and passed some days with an old college friend in 
 Berlin. He was a believer in spiritualism, and I combated 
 the delusion with all my old energy. I retired to my room 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 31 
 
 one niglit animated but somewhat tired. My window 
 looked upon the pleasant paths and foliage of the Thier- 
 garten and commanded in the distance the pillars of the 
 Brandenburg Gate, shining white in the moonlight. I 
 gazed long upon the scene. 
 
 As I turned away from the window^ wdiat shudder, long 
 unknown, was that which passed through my thrilling 
 frame ? What chilling air was that which lifted the locks 
 upon my damp forehead ? Ah, Vv^hat pale ghastly light 
 w^as that wdiicli filled the chamber ! Yes, it w^as my old 
 enemy — the luminous form once more ! 
 
 * Spirit, fiend ! ' I said in tones wdiich were only too 
 tremulous, ' do you haunt me still ? ' 
 
 And the voice replied : ' I have need of you. Once 
 more Fate and I offer you a chance. From the far East 
 I return. Five nights from hence stand you on Southwark 
 Bridge, London, at this very hour — midnight. Fail not, 
 and you will learn the rest.' 
 
 The cold wind breathed on me, andl became insensible. 
 The sun was sparkling on the foliage and the waters of the 
 Thiergarten when I recovered consciousness. 
 
 But be the summons from within or without ; from my 
 ovv^i again distempered brain, or from an influence outside 
 me ; from the world of earth or of air ; from woman or 
 from spirit ; from Heaven or from Hell, I must and will 
 obey. I left that morning: for London. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PHILIP LE BEL. 
 
 London was filling. The season was approaching its 
 height. Earl de Gauntlet, Baron FitzMace, had come up 
 to tow^n from his country residence. Glaive Castle, Market 
 Hamlet, Leicestershire, and intended to look a little after 
 
32 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 his senatorial duties. Earl de Gauntlet once Lad, as every- 
 body acquainted with the polite world knows, a sister, 
 Lady Harriett Morcon, who had made a mesalliance with 
 the celebrated West End physician of King William's days, 
 Dr. Latimer, and had been cut off accordingly from any 
 intercommunication with her noble family. She became 
 pious and resigned, and published some very charming 
 little tracts. ' The Scarlet Sinner ' and ' The Converted 
 Milkman ' produced quite a sensation in their day, and 
 were flatteringly noticed in the * Morning Post,' after which 
 the de Gauntlet family withdrew their joint subscription 
 from that influential journal, and refused to its accom- 
 plished correspondent, Mr. Jenkins, the privilege of occupy- 
 ing a seat beside the porter, in their hall, on the occasion 
 of solemn festivities. Lady Harriett led a weak existence 
 for some years, and having given birth to a son and seen 
 him despatched to Eton, she mildly expired soon after. 
 Wliich of us indeed will not some day expire ? Cras niihi I 
 Seek not to ask the day, Leuconae, but rather — psha, 
 what is the use of quoting Horace which we have quoted 
 so often before, and preaching the sermon which perhaps 
 has been expounded a few times already ? Opposite my 
 window, as I write, is a hatchment. Across the stately 
 square (in which I live) I can see its sable and gold through 
 the trees of the garden in the centre. In that garden are 
 two youthful forms which unwearyingly pace up and down 
 the gravel walk. They gaze into each other's eyes as I can 
 tell even when only their loving backs are turned upon me. 
 I know the old story they are whispering, although the 
 organ of the Italian meanwhile grinds through the square 
 and the butcher's boy whistles his longing for the company 
 of Nancy as his heavy bootheels clamp along the pavement. 
 Why not whisper the old story, my dear Miss Hartshorn ? 
 Have we not all in our own day thus whispered ? Ich 
 auch — nay, tu quoque. Have you forgotten already that 
 you too were once young and had ringlets whose roots were 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 33 
 
 set in your own scalp, and eyes which needed not the pro- 
 tecting lustre of a Callaghan's double eye-glass? Yes, 
 they whisper of love, and the hatchment above them 
 preaches of death. The old story and the old sermon. 
 Yesterday we made love and were young ; we wore our 
 bridal robes and we rivalled their whiteness ; our locks 
 were encircled with the orange-blossom, and our hearts 
 throbbed beneath our elaborate shirt-front ; we were given 
 away at St. George's Church (Hanover Square, not in the 
 East), and our marriage in high life was recorded in the 
 fashionable columns. To-morrow they put up the hatch- 
 ment over our door — that is, if we belong to the British 
 nobility. What matters it after all ? The undertaker must 
 live as well as the bride-cake maker, and, good gracious, 
 what would some of us do if we had not love and death to 
 moralise over ? 
 
 So the gentle Lady Harriett passed mildly out of exist- 
 ence. Dr. Latimer consoled himself, and, having once 
 married for love, next time married for money. He es- 
 poused Mary Anne, widow of the late Clement Bogus, Esq., 
 of Framp and Bogus, Manchester warehousemen, Paul's 
 Chain, City. Mrs. Bogus was a lady who had passed the 
 heyday of youth (her female friends saids he was fifty), 
 and entertained somewhat aggressive dissenting opinions 
 in religious matters. Indeed, she is the step-sister of the 
 eminent and popular preacher, the Eeverend Hiram Bellows, 
 of the Chapel of the Covenant, Surrey. It was this mar- 
 riage and this connection which led to the unfortunate 
 differences in the Latimer family, and the breaking-off of 
 diplomatic relations between Philip Latimer, Esq., of the 
 Inner Temple, and his revered stepmother, which event 
 finally led to a rupture between that impulsive young man 
 and his newly-married father. 
 
 ' It's all very fine, my good people,' Mr. Philip would 
 say in debate with some of his counselling friends, ' to talk 
 of patience and self-controL I can't stand Bellows, and I 
 
 D 
 
34 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 won't go to the Chapel of the Covenant. I went there once 
 and I fell asleep, until the fellow woke me up, by Jove ! 
 with his confounded roaring about the Pope and the Scarlet 
 Woman. I believe I swore< — ^just under the very ears of 
 ma helle-mere, I can't stand Bellows at dinner, and I'm 
 sick of the religious conversation and the anecdotes of con- 
 verted old washerwomen. My father may stand it if he 
 likes — indeed, I believe he can't help it now. But I've had 
 enough of it. Eather will I seek out some wild retreat 
 deep in yonder shining Orient where my life began to beat. 
 Emma, my dusky helper, please to bring me another bottle 
 of the liquid which in Europe we call Bass's bitter and a 
 fresh screw of tobacco.' For Philip was thus addressing a 
 circle of his peers in the smoking-room of the Bird of 
 Night, the resort of himself and his literary and artistic 
 friends at the hours when club -rooms began to grow slow, 
 and the salons and boudoirs of the West were voted a 
 bore. 
 
 Philip occupied a suite of apartments two flights up in 
 Pounce Buildings, Parchment Court, Inner Temple. Below 
 him was the den of Bluebag, the eminent Q.C., who was 
 believed to be making his twelve thousand a year, and who 
 could not spare time to enter the House and become 
 Attorney- General (his views were Conservative), or to go 
 on the bench and become Chief Justice. Immediately 
 above him was The O'Cruiskeen Lawn, the gallant young 
 Irish chieftain, who represented the borough of Bally- 
 blunderbuss in Parliament, and who avenged the wrongs of 
 his race upon the bloodthirsty Saxon by inflicting vicarious 
 punishment on the Saxon tailors, bill-discounters, and 
 boot-makers. Philip had just been called, and had given 
 his call-dinner in very magnificent style when the little 
 events occurred (needless to detail) which led to the 
 untoward rupture between himself and his elder relatives. 
 
 Philip's friends were rather uneasy on his account. 
 The young fellow had been brought up to wealth, present 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 35 
 
 and prospective. He had evinced at college an extra- 
 ordinary faculty for the acquirement of expensive habits. 
 His prints, his books, his horses, his boats, his wine- 
 parties were the wonder of his Hall. Margot, the wine 
 merchant, capped to him as if he were a don. Even Lord 
 Bagshott (son of Earl Hounslow and Lady Mary Wimble- 
 don, now Countess Hounslow) paled in magnificence before 
 the physician's son. * Gad, sir,' the frank young noble- 
 man would say, * I don't quite know what to make of our 
 friend '' Gallipots " ' — which was his lordship's cheerful way 
 of alluding to Philip's paternal connection with the faculty 
 of medicine — * he has twice as many parties and twice as 
 many horses as I have ; and the doosid wonder of it all is 
 that he pays for everything, which, egad, you know, I 
 don't.' As, indeed, his lordship's tradespeople were forced 
 to admit that he did not. 
 
 Now, after this sort of life, how was our young friend 
 to settle down in two-storey-high chambers of the Inner 
 Temple and wait in hunger until clients came ? His 
 friends worked for him and intrigued for him, and actually 
 once got an attorney (Grab, of Grab, Clutch, and Co., 
 Chancery Lane) to send him a brief in the celebrated case 
 of Sprouts against Kadish, action for slander by the wife 
 of the defendant upon the wife of the plaintiff. But Mr. 
 Philip, choosing to think the defendant in the wrong, 
 actually told Grab it was a shame to go into court with 
 such a case. * Actually told me so to my own face, sir,' 
 Mr. Grab subsequently stated when narrating the story — 
 ' told me it was a confounded shame, and that it was slan- 
 der upon the plaintiff's wife, and that our client was a 
 catamaran and ought to be ashamed of herself. As if it 
 mattered to us, sir, to us, whether she was right or wrong, 
 catamaran or no catamaran, so long as she paid our bill. 
 I told him so, sir, as quietly as I say it to you, and hang 
 me if the fellow didn't fly into a passion and as good as 
 call me names.^ He'll never do for the bar, and it's my 
 
 D 2 
 
36 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 belief he'd better turn litery man, or crossing-sweeper, or 
 something of that kind.' 
 
 Clearly our young friend was not made to adorn a 
 woolsack. His friends candidly told him as much, and he 
 assented with his wonted magnificence of self-recognition. 
 But there was something in the hint dropped by Mr. Grab 
 which struck us all. Why not turn literary, or, as Mr. 
 Grab phrased it, litery man ? Philip's prize poem at col- 
 lege, * Deucalion and Pyrrha,' had been much admired 
 among us all when read aloud by the author at one of his 
 famous wine-parties. I am not quite sure that I listened 
 to any of it at the time, but I know I thought it very fine. 
 Therefore it was arranged that Mr. Philip had a natural 
 genius for literature, and should be provided, somehow, 
 with an engagement on the press. 
 
 It was while his friends were engaged in endeavouring 
 to promote the fortunes of Philip — who was all the time 
 rocking himself in an American chair at the window of his 
 Temple apartments, smoking his great pipe and pulling 
 his finely developed flame-coloured moustache — that the 
 event took place which was preluded by us at the opening 
 of this chapter. One day a stately barouche drew up at 
 the principal entrance of Pounce Buildings, Parchment 
 Court, Inner Temple. The youthful O'Cruiskeen Lawn, 
 just entering the precincts, looked eagerly round and 
 wreathed his features into a fascinating smile, expecting to 
 see the carriage lined with pink bonnets and silk flounces. 
 He was disappointed and turned away disconcerted. 
 * Hwho's the ould divil, I wondher ? ' mentally ejaculated 
 the chieftain as he mounted the dark and narrow stairs 
 which led to his noble abode. Bluebag, the eminent 
 counsel, looked over his dingy blind as the carriage wheels 
 stopped. * The Earl de Gauntlet, by Jove,' he growled. 
 ' What does he want here ? Why doesn't he call on me ? 
 Perhaps if I look out he'll salute me.' 
 
 But the Earl de Gauntlet — for it was that nobleman — 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL yj 
 
 did not salute Bluebag, Q.C. He despatched his servant 
 Tags upstairs to the den of Mr. PhiHp Latimer, entrusted 
 with a card (blazoned with the ancestral crest, three steel 
 gloves clasping respective battleaxes) and a request that 
 the young gentleman would be good enough to step down- 
 stairs, as his lordship's noble gout did not permit him to 
 ascend. 
 
 I don't say that Philip actually swore when he saw the 
 crested card, but he certainly did not comport himself as 
 the true Briton generally does when he receives an un- 
 expected visit from a member of the aristocracy. What 
 would you have done, Brown, my boy ? You would have 
 looked out your peerage and ascertained precisely who was 
 the Earl's father, and whether he had any sons, and which 
 of them was in Parliament and which in the army, and 
 who were his sisters or daughters, and who married them, 
 and so forth, in order that you might not run the risk of 
 seeming unfamiliar with the whole family history of one so 
 grand and noble. And you, my dear Mrs. Jones, would 
 no doubt have taken care that his lordship's card always 
 (by the merest chance of course) found itself uppermost in 
 the card-basket for years and years afterwards, long, indeed, 
 after his lordship had ceased to think any more of your 
 Mr. Jones than he did of Tom or Paul or Davy who bear 
 the same cognomen. But Philip did nothing of the kind. 
 Perhaps we ought to make excuses for him. He was an 
 eccentric and, indeed, an untrained young man, w^hose 
 education had been neglected in those important branches. 
 Moreover his mother died young and he had not had that 
 admirable instruction in respect for rank and aristocratic 
 virtues which you, my dear madam, so carefully bestow 
 upon your genteel offspring. Therefore, I am afraid Philip 
 only grumbled out, * What can that old savage want of 
 me ? ' and flung the card with utter heedlessness upon his 
 ricketty table, where, indeed, finding it by chance some 
 hours after, and it being of the thinnest and most aristo- 
 
38 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 cratic pasteboard, he used it, I regret to say, to light that 
 great pipe from which he was perpetually puffing the 
 circling vapour of the grateful nicotine. But for the pre- 
 sent, I admit that he condescended so far as to come down 
 the stairs and issue forth upon the open court from which 
 to the left might be caught a glimpse of the quiet Temple 
 Gardens and the shining river beyond. 
 
 ^ I believe you're my nephew — how d'ye do ? ' was the 
 affectionate address of his lordship. 
 
 ' I believe I am — pretty well, thank you,' was the 
 grateful reply of Mr. Philip. 
 
 * You're like your mother,' growled the peer, 'she was a 
 fool.' 
 
 ' I believe I do inherit the family qualities,' said our 
 youthful Templar, not the least in the world abashed. 
 The benignant nobleman showed his teeth in a grin. 
 
 * I hear you've quarrelled with your father,' he said, 
 * because he married the old widow of some tallow-chandler 
 or pork-butcher or somebody of that kind. Like you all 
 the better for it. Come and see me — Gauntlet House, 
 Garter Square — dare say you know it.' 
 
 * Dare say a hansom will find it,' rejoined Philip. 
 ' When shall I come ? ' 
 
 The peer laughed again. * You're a queer fellow, I 
 think,' he said. ' I rather like you. Come whenever you 
 please. Good morning.' 
 
 The coroneted carriage turned and drove away. Blue- 
 bag dived beneath his blind again, and O'Cruiskeen Lawn 
 shut down his window. 
 
 So Philip became a frequent and apparently a welcome 
 visitor at Gauntlet House, Garter Square, during the 
 season, and his friends looked upon it that his fortune was 
 clearly made. Earl de Gauntlet never had married, and 
 seemed scarcely likely to enter the holy bonds now. He 
 had been wild in his youth, people said ; and not very tame 
 even in his old age, added more malicious individuals 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 39 
 
 (Eadicals, Chartists, and Eed Eepublicans, no doubt) ; and 
 lie was fond, it was hinted, even still of little entertain- 
 ments at Greenwich in the company of Mesdemoiselles 
 Fifine and Clotilde and other yomig ladies connected with 
 the ballet. I don't say that Mr. Philip behaved himself in 
 very conciliating style at the banquets to which he was 
 invited — and to which, let us hasten to say, Mesdemoiselles 
 Fifine and Clotilde were not present. But he sometimes 
 scoffed openly at Captain Marker, his lordship's toady in 
 chief ; he insisted that the French cavalry were the finest 
 in the world, under the very whiskers and ears of General 
 Sir George Bang himself ; he yawned and ejaculated 
 ' Bosh ' while Cataracts, the famous Egyptian traveller, 
 was recounting some of his recent adventures ; and he 
 praised * Essays and Reviews ' without the slightest regard 
 for the feelings of his lordship the Eight Eev. Bishop of 
 Slowborough. When the venison was praised he roared 
 out that he preferred a peculiar Welsh mutton at an eight- 
 penny dining-house in Bucklersbury ; and he made wry 
 faces at his lordship's most delicious Clicquot, affirming, 
 in the first place, that it wasn't good, and in the next that, 
 even if it were, he would infinitely prefer a glass of Disher's 
 ale. I don't say that Philip made himself very agreeable 
 to the company generally ; but my lord seemed somehow 
 to like him, laughed at his rudeness, and appeared to be 
 amused by his eccentricities ; and therefore if the rest of 
 the company did not much admire him they had the good 
 sense to make a sacrifice of their feelings. 
 
 Now it was at some of these little reunions in Gauntlet 
 House, Garter Square, that Philip made the acquaintance 
 of Blatters, the proprietor of the ' Mayfair Weekly Gazette 
 and Carlton Eegister,' a very powerful journal, devoted to 
 the interests of Church and State, which has since left 
 Church and State to care for their own interests, and has 
 closed its valuable career in Basinghall Street. Blatters 
 esteemed it the very crown and triumph of his political 
 
40 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 career to sit at the table of the Earl de Gauntlet, and he 
 was naturally much struck with the eloquence and talents 
 of the Earl de Gauntlet's nephew. Perhaps it had been 
 partly the earl's object that Mr. Blatters should be thus 
 impressed, for he was one of those not uncommon indivi- 
 duals who like to serve a friend at the expense of some- 
 body else. The result was that Mr. Blatters secured the 
 services of Philip at a weekly stipend to contribute poli- 
 tical literary and other articles to the columns of the 
 * Mayfair Weekly Gazette ' ; and presently the correspon- 
 dent of that journal, at the capital of a certain Continental 
 potentate, happening to fall sick and require change, our 
 friend Philip was requested and consented to occupy his 
 place for a few months until his restoration. 
 
 It was from this capital that one of his friends received 
 an amazing number of private epistles from Mr. Philip, 
 the principal contents of which it would be needless to 
 offer to the public. But there are some passages for which 
 we must absolutely find room. 
 
 ' I saw her again last night. It was at the ball given 
 by the French Ambassador, the Marquis Paillasse. She 
 looked lovelier than ever. By Heavens, sir, I adore her. 
 I walk about my room at night roaring out her name. 
 The servants think me a lunatic — indeed one of them told 
 me he had always known that all Englishmen were so. 
 I never saw anyone with such eyes. I don't mean the 
 servant of course, I mean Lucilia ! Why may I not call 
 her Lucilia ? Don't we call the stars by their names, 
 although they don't shine upon us alone, and although 
 they won't condescend to come down and light a fellow's 
 lonely cigar for him ? Yes, I call her Lucilia. I carved 
 her name on the porcelain stove. (Why the deuce don't 
 these people have fireplaces ?) And I had of course to 
 scratch all the letters out again ; and I dare say they'll 
 make up a bill of a few thousand thalers for the damage. 
 If I don't see her every night I go half mad — and if I do 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 41 
 
 see her I go half mad all the same. I make a toady of 
 myself for her sake, I do ; ko-too to all sorts of flunkey old 
 Chamberlains and confounded snuffy old Field Marshals to 
 get cards of invitations for balls where I may have the 
 chance of meeting her. And what do I get for all this ? 
 Sometimes only a bow and a smile. Oh such a smile, so 
 sweet, and by Jove, do you know, so sad too. Do you 
 remember Preraphael's Ariadne ? Do you remember the 
 eyes and the expression ? I didn't believe in Preraphael 
 before. I do now. She has the eyes of that Ariadne. I 
 mean Lucilia. Heavens, how madly in love I am — and 
 what an ass I am.' 
 
 Perhaps Philip's friends did not always dissent from 
 the latter conclusion. But there was a postscript to this 
 letter which we had better print. 
 
 *P.S. — I can't quite make out her mother — Lucilia's 
 mother — Mrs. Palegrave. She's a very handsome and still 
 very young woman. She's immensely clever and brilliant. 
 Knows everything, has been everywhere, and fascinates 
 every one. But still there's something about her I can't 
 quite make out. And some of the fellows here tell absurd 
 stories. Pump, of the English Legation, says she must be 
 seventy years old, although she scarcely looks forty ; and 
 Delia Crusca, of the Sardinian Office, swears she told him 
 she knew Count Somebody who has been dead these 
 eighty years. But I don't mind all their confounded non- 
 sense.' 
 
 Again Philip writes : * I am more and more in love 
 with her. She is the sweetest and saddest of beings. I 
 look at her and tremble for her health. I hang about her 
 all the evening. I glare and swear to myself when any of 
 the swells approach her. When young Millefleurs, of the 
 French Embassy, or Von Eeichsrath, the stuck-up Austrian, 
 or even Eappahannock Stripes, the confounded Virginian 
 planter, who owns ever so many millions of slaves, gets to 
 dance with her, I think she would rather dance with me, 
 
42 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 only I am sucli a frightful waltz er. But I know she 
 doesn't care about a fellow like me — and her mother, oh ! 
 I am quite certain that woman hates me. She eyes me 
 with a queer smile which I cannot comprehend. I lie 
 awake at night and dream of her. I don't mean of Mrs. 
 Palegrave, although she, too, is in my thoughts, but of her 
 daughter. Potts says Mrs. Palegrave is a siren, and that 
 she was one of the lot who sang to Odysseus. If I told 
 you what a queer dream I had about her last night — for 
 I'm not such an idiot as to think it was anything hut a 
 dream — I know you would laugh at me, and therefore I 
 shan't tell you. But I tell you what, old fellow, I begin to 
 think there are more things in heaven and earth than are 
 dreamt of in Martin Tupper's philosophy.' 
 
 It is very probable that the confidential friend of Mr. 
 Philip did not pay much attention to the outpourings of 
 this ardent love. Perhaps we had known of Philip having 
 been in love before, having suffered, survived, and got quite 
 well again. We had heard the ravings which were given 
 to the now-forgotten Eosalind, and were therefore not 
 inclined to pay much attention to the new outbursts over 
 the freshly-discovered Juliet. But when Philip returned 
 (which he did not long after) to his London life again (the 
 rightful occupant of the correspondent's chair having re- 
 covered), we could not but own among ourselves that there 
 really appeared something in this latest attachment which 
 had impressed itself not merely upon our poor friend's 
 heart, but upon his face and manner as well. 
 
 * Hear from her ? ' he grumbled in reply to some in- 
 direct inquiry, ' no, I don't hear from her. Why should 
 she write to me? She doesn't care that about me,' and 
 he flung the blazing stump of his cigar into the Thames. 
 * She's too good for me. I'm only afraid she's too good for 
 the world altogether. She has a siren for a mother, but 
 that's no fault of hers. If I were a painter I would 
 immortalise her on canvas, by Jove ; she should be my 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 43 
 
 Fornarina. If I were a poet she should be my Beatrice. 
 But then I'm not. Why can't I be a painter ? Why can't 
 I be a poet ? Why can't I do anything to deserve her 
 thinking about me ? Come to the Bird of Night, sir, and 
 we'll drown our cares in the flowing bowl.' 
 
 And to the Bird of Night we went accordingly, where, 
 under the agreeable stimulant of pale ale and tobacco, 
 Mr. Philip recounted for about the fiftieth time since his 
 return the whole story of his love, of its object (so far as 
 he knew it), and of the disappearance of the girl and her 
 mother from the city wherein he had been a temporary 
 sojourner ; all which circumstances, let it be owned, did 
 not seem to Philip's friend at the time either thrillingly 
 interesting or peculiarly surprising. That he had fallen 
 deeply in love with a pretty and somewhat delicate girl : 
 that the mother was not over much inclined to encourage 
 such a penniless suitor : that having sojourned as long as 
 they pleased in a foreign city, mother and daughter should 
 leave it when they thought fit — all these remarkable facts, 
 deeply interesting to the persons actually engaged, scarcely 
 occurred to anybody else as fraught with peculiar wonder. 
 Who, indeed, does wonder at anything which affects his 
 friends — except, perhaps, how those friends manage to live 
 and keep up appearances ? I should like to know how the 
 deuce Thompson manages to give those dinners and keep 
 that brougham ; and I believe my wife has sometimes 
 expressed a pardonable curiosity to ascertain where on 
 earth Mrs. Eobinson contrives to get her perpetual nev/ 
 bonnets ; but as to how Thompson met and wooed the 
 present Mrs. T., or whether Mr. Eobinson was originally 
 favoured in his suit by the mother of Mrs. E., these ques- 
 tions, I give you my honour and word, do not strike me 
 as in the slightest degree subjects for wonder, curiosity, 
 or interest. 
 
 Meanwhile Philip laboured in the editorial and literary 
 columns of the * Mayfair Gazette.' Blatters was, for a 
 
44 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 while, very much dehghted with his new contributor. 
 That was PhiHp's review of Professor Monad's elaborate 
 work (ten volumes quarto) upon the Origin of Man, the 
 object whereof was to demonstrate that men were originally 
 cabbage roots ; and which important theory Philip de- 
 molished in two columns, got up with the aid of * Joyce's 
 Scientific Dialogues ' and the * Penny Cyclopaedia.' That 
 was our friend's exposition of the state of parties and 
 politics all over Europe which at the time attracted so 
 much attention among the author's immediate friends, and 
 which read to the British Ministry some lessons upon the 
 dangerous schemes of certain foreign Cabinets, by which 
 wise Government, as the article itself declared, ' would 
 do well to profit 'ere the opportunity had been lost for ever.' 
 This article, it was fully expected, would have called forth 
 some notice from the Prime Minister of the day, and would 
 have given occasion for an important debate in Parliament. 
 I think, however, if my memory serves me rightly, the 
 article in question did not call forth any such notice or 
 give occasion to the expected debate. Those, too, were 
 Philip's poems ' To Lucilia ' which appeared so frequently 
 in the columns of the ' Mayfair Gazette ' ; until at last 
 a malignantly facetious contemporary showed them up in 
 a hideous piece of jocular criticism ; and then Blatters 
 positively declined to insert any more of our young friend's 
 poetic outpourings. 
 
 But there clearly was some sort of change coming over 
 our poor young friend. At the Bird of Night he used to 
 sit glum and mute. He ceased to confide the story of his 
 love or loves. He never went near his uncle, although, of 
 course, we, his prudent friends, recommended him to stick 
 closely to Earl de Gauntlet under all circumstances. * I 
 haven't a genius for doing toady,' Philip would moodily 
 rejoin. * It may suit Captain Marker, but it isn't in my 
 line.' To his most intimate associates he was a little — 
 a very little — more communicative. * There's something 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 45 
 
 astray with me, old fellow,' he once replied to his narrator. 
 ' ** I have dreams, sir, dreams," as somebody says in Shakes- 
 pere, or something like that at all events. You would 
 think me an idiot if I were to tell you, and so I won't. 
 You're a practical man, and a man of the world — worldly, 
 and you only believe in two and two making four, and in 
 a house in Belgravia being necessary to human existence. 
 I believe in something more than all that now. Do you 
 know that I went yesterday to visit Mr. Poster, the medium, 
 to see if he could enlighten me, and he couldn't. I wanted 
 to know if — if Lucilia is dead, and I wrote her name, and 
 he said she was dead — ^* the party," he said — and that the 
 spirit answered. But when I asked to have the name 
 written down he showed his arm with the word *^ John " 
 in red letters on it, and I came away rather abruptly, 
 and after making some remarks which I believe were not 
 complimentary. To-morrow I'm going to try another 
 medium. I dare say it will come to much the same thing.' 
 But the very next morning I met Philip at an early 
 hour. He rushed towards me with impetuosity and wild- 
 ness in his eyes. * Give me joy, old fellow,' he said ; ' she's 
 alive, and I am to see her to-night.' 
 
 * To-night ? Why, how have you come to know of her ? 
 Is she in London ? Have you heard from her ? ' 
 
 * No ; but I am to see her to-night. Don't ask me any- 
 thing more. There are intelligences which you men of the 
 world cannot fathom. I am to see her to-night at twelve 
 o'clock.' 
 
 * At twelve o'clock ? And where ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, now don't laugh, for there's no fun in the matter 
 — on Southwark Bridge.' 
 
 Must the narrator own that he did hee-haw loudly at 
 this announcement ? ' Oh, Philip, you baby,' I replied, 
 * don't you know that the moment twelve strikes to-night 
 it will be followed by the First of April— All Fools' day ? ' 
 
 * Stuff, sir,' was the angry reply, ' I hate people who 
 
46 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 believe nothing^; I'd as soon be an Atheist as such a per- 
 son/ And our friend bounced away in mighty fuss and 
 indignation. 
 
 Poor Philip ! Who was making an April fool of the 
 lad ? Eheu ! what April comes about that some such lad 
 is not being made a fool ? Youth is all a prolonged First 
 of April. Some of us indeed are fools in our December 
 and our January, Avithout having the fun of the month of 
 buds and blossoms around us. Ah, folly to be wise indeed. 
 As I write this I look out, and behold (this being the very 
 First of April), I see a trim servant wench, smart in her 
 new bonnet and swelling hoop, come daintily along the 
 square. She tosses her neat head, and like the sprightly 
 Silvia hopes she does not toss unseen. She does not know 
 that the rough hand of yonder butcher boy has pinned a long 
 paper tail to her jaunty skirt. The butcher boy laughs, 
 but she passes on unheeding. Perhaps I too would have 
 laughed at first. Wherefore laugh ? Who indeed drags 
 not his taiL? You v/ho read, and I who write, are we even 
 not the April fools of something or somebody, only that we 
 are less happy in our unconscious folly than yonder smiling 
 servant lass ? Y^ou, my respected brother, so wise in your 
 own conceit, do not all your neighbours clearly see and 
 freely canvass the mark of folly which has been chalked 
 upon your back ? My dear Mrs. Grim wig, I have heard all 
 about that little affair of yours, indeed only yesterday your 
 bosom friend Miss Earwig revived the whole story for me, 
 and Ij know that there was a time when, old and stiff as 
 you look now, you were pleasant and pretty, and in the 
 eyes of your female neighbours very foolish. Ah, let us 
 envy Philip as he hurries upon his errand of folly, although 
 it guide him 'to Southwark Bridge, a cheerless passage. 
 Errands of greater folly bring people to bridges some- 
 times, I have heard and read. Let us be glad that at 
 least if he be a Fool he goes upon a pleasant fool's errand, 
 and that the bells in his cap ring merrily on the way. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 47 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 THE MISEKABLE. 
 
 TowABDS the close of the autumn of the year 1859, there 
 walked slowly through the streets of the little French 
 hamlet of N on the N a man. 
 
 He walked slowly. He was tired, travel- stained, dusty. 
 He carried a stick. On it there was a bundle. 
 
 The evening shadows were descending, the little chil- 
 dren, angels released a while on a ticket-of-leave from the 
 skies, were straggling, tired of play, to their homes. The 
 bird on the wing was weary and sought his nest. 
 The dog was tired of his chase and crept to his kennel. 
 The cock, the bumble-bee, the ox, and the spider, were all 
 weary and betook themselves to shelter and repose. 
 
 The man was tired. 
 
 But he had no shelter. He had no home, no nest, no 
 kennel, no roost, no hive, no stall, no web. Society, which 
 provides even for the cockroach and the rat, had found no 
 place for him. 
 
 Stay ! 
 
 For the cockroach Society has the v-ermin powder. For 
 the rat it has the trap. Thus too it provided for Pierre 
 Valpierre. It fed his youth upon vermin powder. It 
 sheltered his manhood in the trap. 
 
 Night and atrophy are the attributes of modern civili- 
 sation. Man in his higher form strives after light and 
 ventures himself upon etherealism. Eob him of the light 
 and he grows to be of the darkness. Darkness is in his 
 face and in his soul. He drinks midnight, and he thinks 
 tenebrosity. Realities become to him a phantom, and 
 phantoms transfigure themselves into realities. Lividness 
 absorbs the celestial and the cerulear phantasmagorias 
 pass before his blinded eyes. All humanity arises in him, 
 
48 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 and raves madly in the desert of his heart. Expel the dog 
 from society and you have the wolf. Banish the cat from 
 the warm hearth and you generate the tiger. 
 
 Thus was it with Pierre Valpierre. 
 
 His youth was unfortunate. What is youth ? 
 
 Youth is the spring, the bloom, the blossom, the 
 running brook, the thistledown, the linnet, the star, the 
 cowslip of life. Thus at least was it meant to be. But 
 society intervenes. Society says to the spring, * Thou 
 must labour for the harvest.' Society says to the blossom, 
 
 * toil for the fruit,' to the brook, * turn the mill,' to the 
 thistledown, * indicate how the wind blows,' to the linnet, 
 
 * enter thy cage and draw thy own water,' to the star, * be- 
 come a farthing candle for a dull humanity,' to the cow- 
 slip, * dissolve thyself into a draught for the voluptuous 
 world.' What wonder if the spring has its fierce storms 
 and passionate showers of rebellion, if the blossom snaps 
 itself away and buries its face in the mud, if the brook 
 bursts its bounds and becomes the torrent, if the thistle 
 puts forth its avenging sting, if the linnet dashes itself 
 against the bars of its prison, if the star transforms itself 
 into a fiery comet, if the cowslip becomes a poisonous 
 fungus ? 
 
 Thus it was with Pierre Valpierre, 
 
 He was once young ; society said to him * work.' He 
 set his teeth and replied, ' I will not.' 
 
 Fearful struggle between the million and the unit ; 
 between the crowd and the individual ; between the mass 
 and the atom ! Gloomy struggle going on around in all 
 our lives, but which we regard not. Who shall win ? On 
 the day when that great battle is closed in peace, the 
 mystery of existence will be solved. The struggle will be 
 over between darkness and light. 
 
 Now all darkness ! Then all light ! 
 
 Pierre Valpierre, the unit, the individual, the atom, 
 struggled with the million, the crowd, the mass. He said, 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 49 
 
 * I will not work : why should society bid me be a slave ? 
 Am not I a man and a brother ? ' 
 
 He did not work. He struggled, but the struggle was 
 short. The million conquered. 
 
 Pierre Valpierre was thrown into a prison. 
 
 He would not work. He claimed his natural right — 
 right inalienable by any social fictions invented by aris- 
 tocracy and supported by despotism ; his right to a share 
 of society's wealth and society's ease. He claimed his 
 right and society denied it. He asserted his claim by deeds. 
 Close to his mother's dwelling was the house of an aristo- 
 crat : a banker ; a maire ; a man with the face of an owl ; 
 a magistrate. He had money ; Pierre Valpierre had none. 
 
 Pierre Valpierre entered the dwelling of the banker 
 and took some of his gold. 
 
 Society arose and crushed Pierre Valpierre. 
 
 They called him a robber, and sentenced him to the 
 hulks. He went into the dungeons a mastiff ; he came out 
 a wolf. He entered a cat ; he emerged a tiger. 
 
 Originally he was sentenced to a year's imprisonment, 
 but he was a strong man, panting for freedom, and he 
 broke his gaoler's head. 
 
 A new incarceration. Five years. 
 
 He escaped at the close of the fourth year, carrying 
 away the watch and purse of the gaol chaplain, and leaving 
 behind him his clasp knife in the ribs of the warder. 
 
 Society again pursued him, and he was captured. 
 
 Fifteen years of penal servitude. 
 
 He came out at the close of that period a wolf, a tiger. 
 He looked for his early friends. They were gone. "Where 
 are the flower wreaths of last July ? What are the bubbles 
 of yesterday's stream ? 
 
 Pierre Valpierre 's friends were swallowed up by society 
 in her gaols and hulks and convict settlements. 
 
 Pierre Valpierre tramped at evening through the village 
 of N- on the N— — . He asked for shelter and he was 
 
so OUR SENSATION NOVEL - 
 
 refused. They asked if he could pay. He refused to pay 
 and they repulsed him. They repulsed him from the 
 village hotel, now called ' The Victory of Solferino.' Then 
 this hostelry was ' The Duke of Malakoif ; ' shortly before 
 that * The Emperor's Arms ; ' previously to that ' The 
 Lamartine,' and not long before * The Prince de Join- 
 ville.' In Pierre Valpierre's early days it was * The 
 Charles X.' 
 
 They drove Valpierre from the door. 
 
 He knocked at the cottager's door. The cottager was 
 still afield. His wdfe came out ; a baby at her breast. 
 Pierre Valpierre had no wife and no baby. 
 
 Pierre Valpierre said fiercely, ' Let me in ; I must sup 
 here and sleep here.' 
 
 The terrified female clasped her baby, and shut the 
 door in Pierre Valpierre's face. 
 
 Oh, society ! It is thus thou drivest thy children into 
 a perpetual war with thee ! 
 
 Pierre Valpierre smote and kicked at the door. The 
 inhospitable female would not open. He gazed wildly at 
 the stars which were beginning to twinkle in the evening 
 sky, and passed on his way. 
 
 At the upper end of the village lived the Cure. The 
 Cure was sitting to his evening meal. Two partridges 
 (roasted) were on the board. A modest flask of Macon 
 stood by. The Cure's housekeeper w^aited on the priest. 
 The house door stood open. 
 
 Pierre Valpierre entered, strode into the Cure's room, 
 seized one partridge from the dish and devoured it in two 
 bites. He uncorked the flask of Macon and drained it to 
 the dregs. Then turning to the Cure, he said : 
 
 * I am a robber and a convict. I am hungry and 
 thirsty. I won't work and I won't pay. I mean to sup 
 and sleep here. I hate priests, and I rob them when I 
 can.' 
 
 The Cure smiled mildly and said : 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 51 
 
 ' Honour me by accepting the arm-chair. Marguerite, 
 let three more partridges be roasted, and fetch the spark- 
 Hng burgundy. Have clean sheets put in the best bedroom 
 and light the wax candles in the silver branches. This 
 gentleman is so condescending as to honour us by supping 
 and sleeping here to-night.' 
 
 The housekeeper departed and executed the order. 
 
 Valpierre supped on partridges and drank sparkling 
 burgundy. The Cure and the housekeeper waited on him. 
 
 He had never before slept in such a bed. But after a 
 few hours of unwonted comfort he arose. He remembered 
 the wrongs he had suffered from society, and reflected that 
 these must be avenged. He therefore wrapped up the 
 plate and candlesticks in the clean sheets, hung the bundle 
 on his stick, and left the house. As he passed the room 
 of the Cure, he saw that the door of the good man was un- 
 suspectingly open, and that the benefactor slept tranquilly. 
 A scruple crossed Pierre Valpierre's mind. He doubted 
 whether he was justified in suffering society to escape in 
 the person of the priest. Ought he not to enter and slay 
 the sleeper ? Fearing to make too much noise, he re- 
 nounced his intention. He contented himself with entering 
 and carrying off his benefactor's watch and waistcoat. 
 Then he departed. 
 
 Next day the minions of a despotic governrnxcnt and an 
 aristocratic system brought him back to the Cure's house 
 in custody. They had recognised the waistcoat and the 
 watch. 
 
 * I rejoice to see you, my beloved friend,' said the Cure ; 
 * I was about to send after you. In taking the watch and 
 waistcoat you forgot the chain and the pantaloons which 
 are equally your property.' And he tendered the golden 
 links and the garment to the astonished Valpierre. 
 
 One gendarme fainted with surprise. 
 
 The other, a man of calmer mood, bore his conirade 
 away. 
 
 E 2 
 
52 OUR SENSATION NOVEL ^ 
 
 Pierre Valpierre dropped upon his knees. The panta- 
 loons fell from his trembling hand. He knelt down a tiger ; 
 he rose up a lamb ! 
 
 • • t t • • 
 
 Years passed away. 
 
 The battle of Solferino was fought. 
 
 Battle of giants ! Warring of Titans ! Struggle of 
 thunderbolts ! Collision of worlds ! 
 
 All the world knows the phases of that battle — troub- 
 lous, uncertain, hesitating, menacing. 
 
 It was not a battle ; it was an antagonism. 
 
 On the one side warred the old principle of Divine 
 right and monarchical congresses. On the other the new 
 principle of nationality and popular choice. On the side of 
 Austria a superstition. On the side of France an idea ! 
 
 That idea was expressed in the breath of rifled cannon 
 and in the charges of French cuirassiers ; terrible, grand, 
 sublime, grotesque ; the earth shaking ; the rivers running 
 backward ; the clouds bursting ; the lightning flashing ; 
 sabres crossing sabres : cannons vomiting their flame ; 
 the ranks of France confounded with the ranks of Austria ; 
 the blue mingling with the white ; the steel entering the 
 stomach ; the bullet blowing out the brains ; horses upset ; 
 men crushed ; squadrons charging ; battalions trampled ; 
 generals shouting ; smoke bursting ; the cuirassier writh- 
 ing in his death agony, still a hero, a giant, a Titan, ex- 
 piring with the shout of France and victory on his lips ; 
 the Uhlan crying for quarter ; the Viennese returning to 
 the charge ; the Venetian falling on his own sword ; the 
 Sardinian recognizing a countryman in the ranks of the 
 foe ; all the earth steaming with red ; all the heaven 
 darkened with smoke ; all the hill tops veiled in vapour ; 
 all the iron mouths pouring forth flame, carnage, destruc- 
 tion, death ! 
 
 All for an idea. 
 
 Sublime effort of modern chivalry ! Immense utterance 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 53 
 
 of French enthusiasm ! On the plain of Solferino France 
 buried an old world and baptised a new ! 
 
 What has this to do with our story ? 
 
 Nothing. 
 
 Let us, therefore, proceed. 
 
 The town of D is not anywhere near the scene of 
 
 Solferino. Hence the connection of ideas. 
 
 In the year 1860 the town of D was a watering- 
 place much frequented by the aristocracy of foreign lands. 
 It has a sea and a strand ; it also has mineral springs. In 
 1860 it had had for some time a new and special attraction. 
 It had M. Maladine, the maire. 
 
 The fame of M. Maladine had pervaded all France. 
 His philanthropy, his charity, his public spirit, his good 
 works had made him renowned in his own despite. Sum- 
 moned to Paris, he had had the Grand Cross of the Legion 
 of Honour presented to him by the hands of the Emperor. 
 Invited to accept a seat in the Senate, he had modestly but 
 firmly declined. 
 
 M. Maladine had come to I) a poor man and a 
 
 stranger. In two years he was a millionaire, and the 
 friend, patron, father of the community. Every industry 
 he founded there prospered. His manufactories crowned 
 every hill ; his charitable institutions filled every street. 
 He found D a poor place, living on the summer con- 
 tributions of capricious visitors ; he made it thriving, 
 energetic, independent, prosperous. Strange power of a 
 single human character ! 
 
 Who knew anything of M. Maladine's antecedents ? 
 
 No one. 
 
 Who asked aught concerning them ? 
 
 While he was poor and while he was rising, many, 
 openly. 
 
 When he was rich and powerful, many, in secret. 
 
 When he had proved himself noble, pious, charitable, 
 munificent, the inquiries ceased ; partly because the innate 
 
54 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 respect for virtue stayed them ; partly, too, because nobody 
 could answer them. 
 
 M. Maladine walked one day upon the road which winds 
 around the cliff overhanging the sea. Crowds of people 
 promenaded there, too. 
 
 Suddenly a cry of alarm and horror was raised. 
 
 An English caleche containing two ladies, one of whom 
 held the reins, had several times passed and repassed M. 
 Maladine. Both ladies were beautiful, but they were not 
 of equal age. The elder had looked with interest on the 
 beloved maire, to whom every passer raised his hat. 
 
 It was for these ladies and this caleche that the cry of 
 alarm arose. 
 
 The spirited horses had broken away, dashed wildly 
 along the road, scattering the affrighted and shrieking 
 spectators, and plunging madly towards the edge of the 
 cliff. 
 
 One moment more, and they are lost for ever ! No 
 human hand seemed capable of saving them. The spec- 
 tators fell upon their knees and watched with starting eyes 
 the awful scene. 
 
 M. Maladine looked round and saw it. 
 
 With one bound he reached the edge of the cliff and 
 stood just between the maddened horses and destruction. 
 But what can a single being do ? Can one man restrain 
 two furious horses, already in the spring which must hurl 
 them and their owners into destruction ? Could Hercules, 
 could Atlas, resist their force ? 
 
 M. Maladine seized the horses' heads, and, straining 
 against them with breast and hands, he held them back. 
 It was as though they strove against a wall of brass. 
 
 One wild cheer of delight burst from the crowd ! 
 
 Moment of sublime heroism and of disinterested ad- 
 miration ! 
 
 Then a hundred arms were ready to seize, restrain, and 
 lead away the horses. M. Maladine was pale, but firm, 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 55 
 
 and not exhausted. There was an expression of sublime 
 calmness, angelic simplicity, upon his face. 
 
 The younger of the ladies had fainted. M. Maladine 
 lifted her out in his arms, folding her as tenderly as if she 
 had been an infant, and his own. 
 
 He never had an infant. Ha, society ! 
 
 The elder lady sat calm, but pallid, with livid, gleam- 
 ing eyes. She thanked M. Maladine, but begged to be 
 allowed to thank him more fully when her daughter had 
 been restored to consciousness. 
 
 She spoke in French, with an English accent. M. 
 Maladine spoke all languages : he replied in English. 
 
 ' Then you are an Englishman,' she said — ' a country- 
 man ? The perfection of your accent proves it.' 
 
 * Madame,' he replied, ' I am a Frenchman, and I never 
 was in England.' 
 
 They parted for the moment, as the crowd, pressing 
 around, grew inconvenient. 
 
 M. Maladine was walking slowly away. 
 
 During the whole scene a man with the eyes of a hyena 
 and the jaws of a wolf had kept his gaze steadily fixed on 
 M. Maladine. A tall man, with an aspect partly express- 
 ing unlimited authority, partly denoting unqualified sub- 
 mission. 
 
 It was Mouchard, the police-inspector. 
 
 He approached M. Maladine, and touched his hat. 
 
 * M. the maire,' he said, 'I have never seen any man 
 but one who could perform the feat of strength you have 
 just exhibited.' 
 
 * Indeed,' replied the maire. 
 
 * And that man,' continued the inspector, ' was a convict.' 
 He gazed fixedly upon M. Maladine. M. Maladine 
 
 returned the gaze. 
 
 ' His name,' proceeded the inspector, slowly and im- 
 pressively, ' was Pierre Valpierre, and he has since escaped 
 from the galleys.' 
 
56 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 M. Maladine smiled with a sublime calmness and sweet- 
 ness. He simply replied, * Indeed ! ' 
 
 The inspector again touched his hat and slowly walked 
 away. 
 
 That night M. Maladine visited the English lady. Her 
 name was Madame Palegrave — her daughter was Lucilia. 
 
 Poor M. Maladine — poor Pierre Valpierre — -for it was 
 he ! He had never before known what love was. The 
 convict has no affections ; the wolf indulges not in the 
 tender passion. 
 
 Valpierre did not know what the sensation meant which 
 grew up in his heart when he beheld and gazed upon the 
 English miss. 
 
 It was evening — a tranquil summer evening. M. Mala- 
 dine sat in his chamber alone. What passed through the 
 mind of the convict as he gazed upward at the stars faintly 
 beginning to twinkle in the heavens ? Did he dream of 
 his lost youth ; of his early sufferings ; of his immersion 
 in society's fiery furnace ; of his marvellous redemption ? 
 Did he dream of the English miss ? Poor Valpierre, whose 
 heart had up to that moment been compressed by Fate, and 
 from which now at last some soft drops were beginning to 
 flow ! 
 
 He fell into a kind of dream. Nay, was it a dream ? 
 
 Around him he thought a faint light was shed. He 
 gazed in imagination upon a female form. 
 
 What form was it ? 
 
 Eeader, you have guessed wrongly. It was not the 
 form of the English miss, but the figure of the English 
 mother, pale, livid, anxious, not unsympathetic. She 
 gazed upon him. She called him by his name. That 
 name ! The name of the wolf, the name of the tiger ! 
 She said, ' Awake, Pierre Valpierre ! ' 
 
 He awoke. 
 
 There are moments when all an eternity of emotion is 
 comprehended in a minute — as the form of the sun is 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 57 
 
 embraced in the dew-drop ; as the whole heaven with its 
 stars is reflected in the water-girl's pail. 
 
 Such a moment was that to Pierre Valpierre. 
 
 For standing before him was the very form of which he 
 had dreamed. 
 
 It was Madame Palegrave. Those who have read this 
 history know what she resembled. 
 
 And she called him by his name, and said, * Awake, 
 Pierre Valpierre ! ' 
 
 He asked not how she had entered. There are times 
 when we recognise the presence of the impossible and ask 
 no incredulous questions of the supernatural. 
 
 * Pierre Valpierre,' she said, ' I have come to save you. 
 Your life, your heart, are no secrets to me. Mouchard, 
 the police inspector, has discovered all. The house is sur- 
 rounded by his myrmidons. Look here ! ' 
 
 She threw open the window near. 
 
 He shrank back reluctant to expose his form to the 
 hyena eyes below. 
 
 ' Fear not,' she said, ' no eye beholds you till I so will 
 it. Trust in me and look out.' 
 
 He gazed out. Mouchard guarded the carriage door. 
 A gendarme stood at every corner. A dark file of gen- 
 darmes was arranged a little way down the street. 
 
 He heard the voice of Mouchard — strident, serpent- 
 tone — say : 
 
 ' Let the door be forced. It's time to put an end to 
 this. We have had enough of the escaped convict passing 
 off for a maire and a public benefactor.' 
 
 Valpierre drew back. It is certain that he did not 
 tremble. There was a massive iron safe in the room, sup- 
 ported upon legs of twisted and hammered iron. Valpierre 
 turned his eyes upon it. In a moment he had torn it from 
 its place, upset it, and wrenched one of the massive iron 
 limbs from its place. He poised it in his powerful hand 
 as if it had been a rod. He smiled calmly; 
 
58 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 ' I was called Pierre the Steam Hammer at the galleys,' 
 he said. 
 
 That which I am certain of is that Madame Palegrave 
 looked upon him with a glance of admiration. 
 
 ^ Lay aside your weapon,' she said, almost tenderly. 
 ' Here it will avail you nothing — and I can help you to an 
 escape without danger. Pierre Valpierre, do you wish to 
 be redeemed and to live ? ' 
 
 She bent upon the convict a calm but x^enetrating 
 gaze. 
 
 There was a radiant simplicity in his aspect as he 
 returned the steadfast look and answered — ' Now I do.' 
 
 ' Then,' she said, 'you shall be saved. You shall go 
 forth free and unharmed. You shall lose nothing-- -not 
 one coin even of the wealth you have earned. Your 
 money has been transferred from the bank of this town. 
 To-morrow present yourself at Laffitte's of Paris ; tender 
 this note and they will pay you over the full amount of 
 your property — forty-five thousand millions of francs. 
 Secrete it, and save yourself. Before long we meet again.' 
 
 Pierre Valpierre was bewildered. He could not arti- 
 culate a word. When Ptedemption rushes on the heels of 
 Despair what heart overflows not ? 
 
 * But remember, Pierre Valpierre,' she whispered in a 
 tone which reached his very soul, ' I save your life — and I 
 purchase it. It is mine ! Whenever I summon you, you 
 must obey ; whither I point you must go ; what I com- 
 mand that you must do. Say, Valpierre, whom I save 
 from ignominy and death, is your life mine ? ' 
 
 He flung himself at her feet. 
 
 ' Yours,' he passionately exclaimed, ' for ever.' 
 
 A wild smile crossed her face. He seized her hand and 
 endeavoured to press it to his lips. She shrank back. 
 
 ' Away ! ' she said. ' Touch me not ! And now the 
 time has come ! ' 
 
 Mouchard had indeed burst in the front door with a 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 59 
 
 crash. The tramphng feet of the gendarmes were heard 
 hurrying up the staks. 
 
 The mysterious woman slowly passed her hand once or 
 twice over the eyes of Pierre Valpierre. His head drooped 
 — he fell senseless. 
 
 Mouchard dashed in the door of the chamber. He 
 looked wildly, savagely around. An imprecation burst 
 from his lips. 
 
 ^ We are foiled ! ' he exclaimed, * foiled again. He is 
 gone ! ' 
 
 For the chamber was empty ! Empty save of the 
 police inspector and his followers, and the chairs, the 
 tables, the desk, the broken safe. Otherwise empty. 
 Absolutely empty. 
 
 The window was open. Mouchard rushed to it 
 animated by a faint hope. There was no rope ladder — no 
 means of descent of any kind. The wall of the house 
 was as smooth as marble. The descent was some fifty feet. 
 
 Moreover, there were half a dozen police spies clustered 
 immediately below. 
 
 The room had no other window. It had no chimney. 
 
 Mouchard looked from floor to ceiling. ' Diantre ! ' he 
 said, * if I live he entered this room half an hour ago, and 
 he has not since gone out.' 
 
 * A la bonne heure, my inspector,' calmly observed a 
 gendarme, * he is not here now, unless he be hidden in a 
 mouse-hole.' 
 
 Mouchard made no reply, but proceeded to quit the 
 room. When all his men had left it, he turned back, 
 locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. 
 
 * After all,' remarked one of the gendarmes in a whisper 
 to another, * he grows stupid, that old blunderer of a Mou-* 
 chard. When one is no longer young, one ought not to be 
 too confident of one's wits.' 
 
 Mouchard heard the remark, but said nothing. He 
 accepted the humiliation. He had laid his plans, and they 
 
6o OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 had miscarried. He had done all his possible and had 
 failed. * I thought,' he said to himself between his teeth, 
 * even the very devil himself could not have snatched him 
 from me this time. And there is no devil.' 
 
 Perhaps not. But for all that Pierre Valpierre was 
 gone. Mouchard walked slowly home, conquered. 
 
 The house of the late maire was sealed up by the 
 authorities. There was no money found there. The local 
 bank could only announce that all the funds held in the 
 name of M. Maladine had been withdrawn a few days 
 previously. 
 
 The very morning following the night we have 
 described a stranger entered Laffitte's bank in Paris imme- 
 diately after the bureau had opened, and presented an order 
 to withdraw all the funds deposited there a few days before 
 
 in the name of M. Maladine, of D . The money was 
 
 paid over in bank-notes, and the stranger departed. They 
 had not remarked his appearance. 
 
 A paragraph found its way into the Paris newspapers 
 announcing that a most extraordinary event had occurred at 
 
 D . The maire of that town, who had amassed wealth 
 
 there, had built all its public institutions, and had received 
 the Cross of the Legion of Honour from Imperial hands, 
 had turned out to be the famous for9at, Pierre Valpierre, 
 who had escaped from so many prisons. Mouchard, the 
 celebrated inspector, had with incredible sagacity dis- 
 covered the real name and character of the impostor ; but 
 it had unfortunately happened that just at the very 
 moment when Mouchard felt certain he had the criminal 
 in his grasp, the daring felon had managed to evade the 
 law once more. But Mouchard felt certain that he must be 
 captured before many days. Every avenue of escape was 
 watched, and the telegraph had forwarded a full description 
 all over the country. 
 
 Nevertheless many days passed away and the felon was 
 not recaptured. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 6i 
 
 Mrs. Palegrave, the English lady at D , expressed 
 
 great surprise at the singular revelation, and with the 
 characteristic selfishness of her country congratulated her- 
 self among her friends that she had not gone too far in 
 encouraging the acquaintance of the unfortunate maire. 
 In a very few weeks she found that the health of her 
 daughter did not improve, and she left the town. She 
 took with her, besides her own and her daughter's female 
 servants, a black male attendant who had not been with 
 her when she first entered the town. 
 
 The manufacturing prosperity of the town drooped. 
 Some of its best manufactories became silent and idle. 
 The house of the late maire fell into dirt and ruin. Mou- 
 chard left the place and obtained a transferment to Paris. 
 The memory of M. Maladine, the unfortunate Pierre Val- 
 pierre, faded into a tradition. 
 
 Society, too, has its ruins over which the grass grows 
 and the spiders creep ; its mysteries hang around in the 
 gloom and heavy obscurity ; its caverns and its graves. 
 Society is an enigma. Man is a Sphinx, the poet is the 
 Edipus. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 COUNT FOSCOLI, THE EXILE. 
 
 It was a cheerful, balmy spring morning when Count 
 Foscoli, an Italian gentleman residing in Carbonaro Lodge, 
 Geneva Terrace, St. John's Wood, flung open his garden 
 gate and proceeded to walk briskly in the Hyde Park and 
 Tyburnia direction. Count Foscoli was a man much above 
 the middle size, and immensely fat. His fresh, florid, 
 closely- shaven cheeks scarcely gave any indication of his 
 Italian origin. Although nearly sixty years of age he 
 walked with all the jaunty briskness of six-and-twenty. 
 
62 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 As he progressed lie liummed to himself the touchmg notes 
 of the * Stabat Mater,' which occasionally swelled so loudly 
 as to be audible to the passers-by, and sufficed to prove to 
 those who noted the fact that the Count had indeed a 
 magnificent bass voice such as Formes might reasonably 
 have envied. A pretty white lapdog followed the Count, 
 who held his pet by a long pink string, and every now and 
 then halted in his walk to lift the little creature up and 
 tenderly embrace him. It was remarkable that whenever 
 the Count passed any dumb animal, horse, dog, or even 
 donkey in his way he stopped and patted him affectionately. 
 Several times when a nursery-maid bearing a child passed 
 by, the Count insisted upon kissing the infant. He spoke 
 in a peculiarly tender and fondling voice, with but little 
 trace of foreign accent. 
 
 ' On these beautiful and sunny mornings,' observed the 
 Count, soliloquising, ' I love everything and everybody. 
 Man was made to love all his fellow beings — even those 
 with the long ears, perhaps those especially.' And the 
 Count smiled blandly at his os^n joke ; then resumed the 
 humming of the ^ Stabat Mater.' 
 
 His walk soon began to lead him through more crowded 
 streets where it was not possible, with convenience at least, 
 to indulge in his tender sympathies for all the animal 
 kingdom. But his bland and benevolent manner remained 
 unchanged. He took off his hat to a crossing-sweeper, 
 bestowed a genial benediction upon an Irish beggar-woman, 
 and helped four successive perambulators over a difficult 
 crossing. 
 
 ' These little offices of kindliness,' observed the Count, 
 * are really the poetry of life. Nay, are they not the re- 
 ligion ? I think they are.' And he hummed a few bars 
 from one of Mozart's immortal masses. 
 
 Passing a picture-dealer's shop he saw announced a 
 genuine Titian on exhibition. He stepped casually in, 
 glanced at the picture, pronounced it a copy, and called 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 63 
 
 the attention of the picture-dealer to a certain mysterious 
 mark in an obscure corner of the back of the canvas which 
 betrayed the fact. The shop was full of spectators, and 
 the Count did not rudely declare his opinions. He merely 
 shook his head when the dealer declared his readiness to 
 maintain the genuineness of the picture, and catching the 
 man's eye at a moment when no one was looking, pointed 
 with an almost imperceptible gesture to the place where 
 the mark might be detected and shrugged his shoulders. 
 The picture-dealer turned pale, and gazed with amazement 
 on the stranger who thus evinced such a knowledge of his 
 profoundest mysteries. The Count smiled a most genial 
 and bewitching smile, bowed profoundly, and Avalked away. 
 
 On his way he stepped into a pastry-cook's shop and 
 bought three rich tarts. With one he fed his little dog, 
 holding the animial in his arms until the rich morsel had 
 been consumed. The second he gave to a poor beggar-boy 
 whom he passed in the street. The third he ate himself 
 witli a simple and almost infantile appearance of relish. 
 
 Park Lane was reached at last. The Count walked a 
 little way down the aristocratic thoroughfare, and stopped 
 before a splendid mansion which had all the appearance of 
 being only recently redecorated and furnished. Probably 
 the inmates had but just returned from abroad. 
 
 The Count pulled out a richly-perfumed handkerchief 
 of the finest cambric and flecked a few almost imperceptible 
 specks of dust off his coat and boots. 
 
 * Not too early, I trust,' he murmured with a charming 
 smile upon his full red and white face. ' Can one be too 
 early who comes on such an errand, and whose coming is 
 sure to be so delightful a surprise ? ' 
 
 A gorgeously- attired menial opened the door, to whom 
 the visitor presented with easy dignity a crested and 
 coroneted card. * For Mrs. Palegrave,' he said in a bland 
 tone. ' Add, if you please, that Count Foscoli will do him- 
 self the honour of awaiting her commands.' 
 
64 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 He entered the hall, and in a moment was lost in an 
 attentive study of a marble Niobe, which formed one of its 
 principal ornaments. 
 
 ' Canova,' he remarked to himself, * but not in his best 
 style. The lines of the shoulder are anatomically imperfect. 
 
 The servant re-entered and requested that Coant Foscoli 
 would be kind enough to w^ait a few moments in the library. 
 
 The Count entered a magnificent library. He took a 
 couple of volumes from the table. One was in Eomaic, the 
 other a book on magic in the Chaldean tongue. 
 
 * Still given to the study of foreign languages and the 
 occult sciences,' he murmured. * This Eomaic writer,' he 
 continued, * is incompetent to his task, and, more than 
 that, writes in by no means the best style of his country's 
 language. That expression is ungraceful and scarcely even 
 idiomatic' And he laid down the volume. 
 
 ' The Chaldean,' he said, ' writes well. A fine, clear, 
 and majestic style. I have not lately read anything so 
 simple and eloquent. We of this day do not often write 
 like that. But his science is poor. That experiment, as 
 he describes it, would prove a failure, and would indeed be 
 fallacious if it succeeded.' 
 
 He w^as about to take up another work when the door 
 opened behind him. 
 
 Mrs. Palegrave slowly entered. Those who read this 
 story have seen her before. Her face w^as as usual pale 
 and beautiful. Her eyes gleamed with the melancholy, 
 liquid, almost livid fire which was their light. Perhaps 
 her lip slightly quivered as she passed the threshold, and, 
 looking into the mirror, met for a moment the eyes of the 
 foreign visitor whose back was turned to the door. 
 
 The Count turned, and, bowing profoundly, advanced 
 with the blandest smile. 
 
 * I have intruded,' he said, ' very early on Madame 
 Palegrave's privacy. Only arrived in London last night, 
 and behold her coming already discovered and her anxious 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 65 
 
 friend here ! Need I apologise ? Does the eagerness of 
 friendship require to ask forgiveness ? Then I ask it, and 
 I know I may anticipate your ready and gracious pardon. 
 A chair ! Nay, allow me ! ' 
 
 With another polite and profound bow he placed an 
 easy chair, and gracefully pointed to it. 
 
 ' May I take the liberty ? ' he asked. And without 
 awaiting a reply he drew a second chair, and reposed his 
 immense frame in it with an easy grace which had nothing 
 of actual assurance. 
 
 ' A charming house,' he went on — ^ a delightful situa- 
 tion. After fatiguing travel in uncivilised countries how 
 exquisite a change, how refreshing a repose ! And this 
 library filled, as ever, wdth treasures of literature and 
 science ! I have taken the liberty to glance over some of 
 them. On the whole, I think I may pronounce them 
 worthy of her who studies them.' 
 
 ' Ugolino Foscoli,' said she whom he addressed, break- 
 ing the silence she had kept up to this point, * why have 
 you come here ? ' 
 
 * Eather,' said he w^ith a winning smile, ^should you 
 ask how have I come here ? How did I know of your 
 sudden and unexpected return? Ah, friendship has its 
 marvellous instincts, intuitions, and revelations as well as 
 love. Enough that you have returned and I am here. I 
 might perhaps have expected some kindly intimation of 
 your coming ; another in my place might have complained. 
 But I am not so jealous and exacting. I forgive those 
 slight forgetfulnesses.' 
 
 * Foscoli,' rejoined the lady, ' the tie that binds us shall 
 be broken.' 
 
 He raised his hand in a blandly deprecating manner ; 
 but she proceeded with a scornful impatience — 
 
 ' I will not have my movements watched and spied. I 
 will not have my footsteps dogged. I am weary of it. I 
 hate you, and you know it.' (He shrugged his shoulders 
 
66 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 « 
 
 and gently ^vaved his liand.) * You would be my evil 
 genius if you could. I will yield to you no more. What 
 have I to fear from you ? What have you not to fear 
 from me ? ' 
 
 ' Magic, sorcery, chemistry, toxicology,' he interrupted 
 in the softest tone and with the sweetest smile. ' Lucrezia 
 Borgia, united in one person with the Seeress of Prevorst, 
 and the Witch of Endor ! And yet you see how I, poor in- 
 expert and common man, trust myself in the enchan- 
 tress's very cave ! The dove — a plump one indeed — 
 shelters itself in the den of the serpent and is not afraid. 
 Not the least in the world,' he added with a gentle shrug 
 of his broad shoulders. 
 
 * Foscoli,' said Mrs. Palegrave, ' you have other foes to 
 dread besides the science at which you vainly scoff. Think 
 of who you are, and v/hat I know. One word to the police, 
 one anonymous line to any member of the band you 
 know of, one open denunciation before a certain Embassy, 
 and I am free of you for ever ! What prevents me from 
 exercising this very ordinary and commonplace power to 
 rid myself of the torment of your presence ? ' 
 
 * Your exquisite good nature,' he calmly replied, ' your 
 delightful benevolence ; and perhaps, too, your unwilling- 
 ness to disturb the tranquillity of society, by the hearing 
 of such vexatious and bewildering revelations as, accom- 
 panied by names and dates, the doomed exile and patriot 
 might feel it his duty to bequeath to the country of his 
 adoption.' 
 
 Suddenly breaking off, he said in a persuasive tone — ■ 
 ' May I interrupt this very agreeable conversation by 
 one personal request which I earnestly urge ? My little 
 dog, my Fidelio, my darling pet ! I see by his drooping 
 eye that he yearns for a little nourishment. Dare I use 
 the freedom of an early friend, to entreat for a Naples 
 biscuit soaked in a glass of Madeira ? ' 
 
 The lady made a gesture of assent, while her coiinten- 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 67 
 
 aiice expressed a singular blending of anger, surprise, and 
 disgust. 
 
 ' You are still the same Foscoli ! ' &-lie remarked, 
 shrugging her shoulders. 
 
 ' You refer to my love for the lower orders of creation ? ' 
 he blandly said. ' Yes, still the same. Who, indeed, 
 could deserve affection like that quiet, loving, contented 
 little creature there ' (Fidelio meanwhile was whining and 
 snarling with impatience and anger). * I am attentive to 
 him and he repays me with gratitude. I am devoted to 
 others — and they answer me with rebuke and ungrateful- 
 ness. But Foscoli forgives them all. Does he not, Fidelio, 
 my pretty darling ? Does he not, my wee doggie ? ' 
 
 Foscoli sat and fed his dog with the biscuit and 
 Madeira, lavishing on him such endearments as a father 
 might give to a beloved child. He looked up suddenly, 
 the comparison apparently having occurred to his own 
 mind. 
 
 * I have no child,' he said, ' and I have to make a pet 
 of Fidelio. You, my dear madam, are now% I have heard, 
 somewhat more happy ; how delightful ! How like Sarah , 
 who had a child in her old age ! Not that you can be 
 likened to Sarah in appearance at least, for you look rather 
 like a youthful Kachel or Eebecca. But some few years — 
 how many ? — thirty or thirty-five, surely, have passed since 
 the delightful epoch when Madame Palegrave first smiled 
 upon her admiring Foscoli. Then Madame Palegrave 
 looked — well, looked exactly as she does now — and I — I 
 certainly seemed younger then ! Why I might pass very 
 becomingly at present for the venerable papa of the beauti- 
 ful widow with the young and charming daughter. A 
 capital idea ! I should much like to put it in practice. 
 Should you ? ' 
 
 Evidently some thought flashed across Madame Pale- 
 grave's mind, suggested by these words from her strange 
 visitor. She arose and assumed a determined manner. 
 
 f2 
 
68 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 ' Foscoli,' slie demanded, ^ tell me at once and plainly 
 the purport of your coming here. What do you want ? ' 
 
 ^ Can you ask ? ' he said. ' The delight of seeing an 
 old — well, a young and valued friend, one whose name is 
 inseparably linked with the brightest memories of Foscoli' s 
 early youth, and his promising but perhaps not exactly 
 performing manhood. How many of your old adorers are 
 now left '? surely none but Foscoli. There was indeed, I 
 have heard, one other, poor old Marley ! Yes, I have 
 heard all that story ! He recognised you and by a remark- 
 able coincidence he died the same night ! Strange but not 
 unheard-of coincidence ! The career of Madame Pale- 
 grave has had, I believe, many such ! How if the devoted 
 Foscoli immediately after recognising his early friend should 
 dwindle, peak, and pine, as your noble bard has expressed 
 it ? But Foscoli surely has many years to run before he 
 arrives at the Marley stage of maturity. Marley, I think, 
 had been a long discarded and forgotten lover, many years 
 before Foscoli approached the dangerous flame ; besides 
 Foscoli has far too much delicacy of feeling to call up old 
 reminiscences before company, unless very, very much 
 excited by ingratitude or neglect.' 
 
 * Foscoli,' said Mrs. Palegrave, ' you know how I hate 
 you.' 
 
 * Superior to your sex in most things,' he interjected, 
 * you still retain some of its too ardent emotions. Delight- 
 ful provision of nature in your regard. If we knew you 
 wholly superhuman, how could we regard you as we now 
 do, with sympathy and with ' 
 
 * Bah ! ' interrupted Mrs. Palegrave impatiently. * You 
 know that 1 hate you, and that you deserve my hate.' 
 
 ' Nay,' said the Count, gently raising his fat, Avhite, 
 ringed hand, in graceful deprecation, ' even if I should 
 admit the first declaration, I cannot acknowledge the 
 second. Hated, perhaps. Deservedly hated — surely not.' 
 
 * Yes, you deserve my hate ! I once believed in you. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 69 
 
 I told you every feeling of my heart, every purpose of my 
 life. I thought you a man of boundless daring and energy, 
 but I also thought you a man of lofty purpose and high 
 ambition. I found you out to be a mere schemer and 
 groveller, whose only ambition was to have a little money, 
 to keep a fine house, and to rent an opera box. Then I 
 despised you. Then you betrayed me. You have thwarted 
 me in many places since, and I know well enough that you 
 are only to be bought off from thwarting me again now. 
 Well, what is your price ? Name it, and let us be free of 
 each other even for a time.' 
 
 * Strange misconception ! ' he said, as if musing to him- 
 self. ^ Marvellous misappreciation of the nature of Foscoli ! 
 Am I to be bought off like a policeman ? I have come not 
 to ask but to offer. I have come to tender my poor but 
 zealous services. I admire still the fair and ever blooming 
 Palegrave. I admire and envy not ! I ask not for the 
 immortal youth. I have outlived the age of Eoger Bacon. 
 But I think I can help to forward your purposes, such as 
 they are, while at the same time contributing to my own 
 less ethereal and lofty, but possibly more practicable aims. 
 I revere your feminine audacity of object and brilliancy of 
 perception. But I think, perhaps, superior as you are to 
 all your sex, you lack a little of that plodding patience, 
 and of that calmer, perhaps more ignoble power of obser- 
 vation, which distinguish us practical men of the world. 
 When I heard of that little affair of Philip Marley, be sure 
 that I trembled for my gifted but rash friend. I knew 
 your hand, and I feared lest some others might recognise 
 it too.' 
 
 * Others ? ' she muttered in a scornful tone. ' As if 
 there were other spies than ' 
 
 * Than me you would say ? My earnest anxiety for 
 your interest does indeed render me keenly watchful. The 
 mother is a spy upon her consumptive child ; the ardent 
 lover upon the glances of his mistress.' 
 
70 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 * The patriot,' pursued Mrs. Palegrave, imitating his 
 tone, * upon the rash acts of his misguided countrymen. Is 
 it not so ? ' 
 
 * Not even ungenerous insinuations can make me forget 
 my devotion.' 
 
 ' Call it what you will,' she said. * You have talked of 
 others watching me. Who can watch me but you ? ' 
 
 ' You English people,' said the Count, ' are always 
 suspicious in the wrong place. We Italians, when we 
 suspect at all, suspect rightly. You are a wise woman, a 
 sibyl, a magician. I, a poor man of the world. Yet I 
 know that at least three persons besides myself are aware 
 of your being now in London — three persons, wholly 
 strangers to each other, but deeply interested in you.' 
 
 * It is false,' she replied vehemently. ' It is extravagant 
 — it is impossible.' 
 
 ' Does the all-conquering Palegrave speak of impossi- 
 bilities ? What did Eichelieu say ? What fine phrases does 
 your English dramatist put into his mouth ? How finely 
 Macready used to deliver that passage. Have you a copy 
 of the play in your well-furnished library ? No — you don't 
 read plays ? Believe me you err. The drama is the ' 
 
 * Is all this meant to make me forget your hint of a 
 moment since ? ' she asked, ' or is it an affectation of 
 evasion to excite my curiosity ? You talk of three persons 
 aware of my presence in London. Is this a deliberate 
 falsehood, or an idle conjecture ? Give me a direct answer 
 if old habits have left you the power of answering anything 
 truly and directly.' 
 
 * Very well,' he replied, ' let us see. Last night your 
 carriage crossed Southwark Bridge at twelve precisely. I 
 was there and saw it.' 
 
 She started perceptibly. 
 
 'Ah,' he proceeded, * the exquisite simplicity of woman- 
 hood never fails to betray itself. How delightful, after all, 
 are the little cords of peculiarity which bind even you to 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 71 
 
 the most infantile of your sex ! How tlioroughly feminine 
 to think of securing secrecy by entering London over a 
 lonely bridge at midnight ! An escaped convict of our 
 rougher sex would have chosen the most crowded thorough- 
 fare of the city and would thus have avoided notice. I 
 stood upon Southwark Bridge and saw your carriage cross 
 it. So, too, did three other gentlemen with whom I have 
 no personal acquaintance, but whose names I think I could 
 mention. They had come, evidently like myself, to watch 
 and wait. Eager friends, no doubt, whose instinctive sym- 
 pathies led them, as mine did me, to the very spot at the 
 very hour. Strange and deeply interesting coincidence ! 
 Unfathomable mysteries of our nature ! Not, indeed, un- 
 fathomable to you who read all of nature's abstrusest 
 secrets. And yet, if I interpret aright the expression 
 which you cannot quite control, you are a little surprised 
 to hear of this.' 
 
 She now buried her face in her hands for a few moments, 
 then looked up with a terrible light in her eyes. 
 
 * Is this true ? ' she asked fiercely, * or are you juggling 
 with me ? ' 
 
 * With his hand upon his heart, Foscoli pledges his 
 solemn honour,' said the visitor, gracefully placing his 
 plump hand upon the region where in some persons a heart 
 exists. * Shall I name their names ? There was a French 
 gentleman, an interesting exile, compelled like others for 
 peculiar reasons to absent himself awhile from his native 
 land. His remarkable name is, I think, Valpierre, but he 
 has been known to call himself Maladine. There was in 
 the second place an agreeable young English gentleman, 
 a future ornament of two of the noblest professions — • 
 law and letters. His name, I think, is Latimer. And 
 there was a very eminent professor of the lofty and sacred 
 faculty of medicine, a certain Dr. Farbrick, not, I think, 
 unknown to Mrs. Palegrave.' 
 
 * No ! ' she exclaimed passionately, and starting from 
 
72 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 her seat. ' Not he ! He was not there. He could not 
 have been there. I know he was not. And now I know 
 that all the rest of your story is false. The man of whom 
 you speak is far away.' 
 
 * I am aware,' said Foscoli, ' that he was in Berlin only 
 the other day — indeed, at the very same time that Madame 
 Palegrave was in Eome. But Berlin is not far off in these 
 railroad days. The same message which summoned me 
 summoned him. I came from St. John's Wood merely — 
 he all the way from the capital of Prussia. And he was 
 on Southwark Bridge last night at twelve o'clock. Send 
 and ask him, if you will. Behold his address.' 
 
 Taking from his pocket a superbly embossed card-case, 
 the Count drew forth a card which he presented, with an 
 air of the extremest deference, to his companion. She 
 almost shuddered on looking at it. 
 
 'It is too true,' she said. 'Foscoli, you are a fiend 
 incarnate.' 
 
 ' Are there fiends ? ' he asked. ' I have always doubted 
 it. Except in Milton and Goethe, and my own still greater 
 countryman (do you read Dante ?) I do not see the use of 
 beings of that class. But you understand all these sub- 
 jects far better than I pretend to. I am not, however, 
 conscious of any communion with the society of fiends. 
 In this case I merely narrate to you what I saw. Sum- 
 moned myself I went to Southwark Bridge. Summoned 
 no doubt by the same power they whom I saw were there 
 as well.' 
 
 ' You have several times repeated that you were sum- 
 moned there. Summoned by whom and for what purpose ? ' 
 
 * Summoned to meet or to see you. Surely nothing 
 less interesting would have induced an elderly Italian like 
 Foscoli to leave his shelter in St. John's Wood and face 
 the terrors of a spring midnight in London ? ' 
 
 * And summoned by whom ? ' she asked in a voice of 
 almost thrilling anxiety. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 73 
 
 Foscoli retained still the same bland and smiling ex- 
 pression on his fat round face. 
 
 ' Need you ask ? ' he replied in the most winning tone. 
 ' Who but one has the power or the right to command 
 the movements of the faithful and devoted Foscoli ? 
 Summoned surely by yourself, and yourself alone.' 
 
 The effect of these words upon her to whom he whis- 
 pered them was something electrical. She sprang from 
 her seat and uttered an exclamation which was almost a 
 shriek. 
 
 Foscoli arose, and cautiously gliding across the floor 
 with noiseless tread, made certain that the door was firmly 
 closed. 
 
 * Double doors,' he observed. ' A sensible arrangement 
 which ought to be introduced into every house.' 
 
 Meanwhile the lady walked rapidly up and down the 
 room, her hand to her eyes, and her shoulders evidently 
 throbbing. At length she flung herself upon a sofa, and 
 burst into a passion of tears. 
 
 ^ Accursed weakness ! ' she exclaimed at last, looking 
 upward. * I am a very slave. I betray myself. I destroy 
 myself. I have no control over the very power which all 
 my life and toil and risk have gone to create. What avail 
 to me is all when accompanied by this terrible and fatal 
 weakness — this curse ? This has been my terror — it will 
 be my destruction. It has made me the subject of those 
 I despise, and the hatred and horror of the few whom I 
 would fain love.' 
 
 ' May the devoted Foscoli,' whispered that unmoved 
 individual, * rank himself in the latter category ? ' 
 
 His voice recalled her to the necessity of at least some 
 seeming self-control. She assumed an appearance of calm- 
 ness, and approached him. 
 
 * Foscoli,' she said, * we are not friends, and cannot be. 
 But I do not deny that you may have the power to serve 
 me, that you have qualities which, unfortunately for myself 
 
74 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 I want. A crisis in my life is again approaching ' (Foscoli 
 smiled), ' and I need some help. You can give it to me. I 
 had hoped never to see you again in life, but you have 
 found me out and I accept your help. One of your idle 
 sentences has suggested to me a plan and given me a hope. 
 I embrace it.' 
 
 * Et moi ? ' said the gallant exile, approaching and 
 extending both his hands. 
 
 The lady drew back very coldly, and said : 
 
 ^ For the present you can no doubt afford to make this 
 house your principal residence.' 
 
 ' In your service,' he replied in the most dulcet tone, 
 * I will sacrifice all, even my quiet roadside cottage and its 
 roses. But one petition I must put forth. May I send for 
 my guitar and have the society of my Fidelio ? ' 
 
 She replied with a smile of disdainful assent, and left 
 the room. There was a terrible glare in her livid eyes, 
 and the compressed working of her lip as well as the 
 manner in which she clenched her white slender hands 
 exhibited a depth of dangerous emotion which even a brave 
 spectator might have feared. Passing out she threw one 
 glance of the most intense hatred and resentment back 
 upon the placid Foscoli, who, happening to look up at the 
 glass just that moment, caught the eyes which glared with 
 such a concentrated hate upon him, and smiled in return 
 a bland farewell as though the face which he saw reflected 
 beamed only kindness and love on his. 
 
 * A remarkable woman,' soliloquised the exile when 
 she had gone. * Extraordinary blending of power and 
 weakness, of the masculine and the feminine. I can 
 understand her perfectly this time. She means to use me 
 for some purpose, and then dispose of me for ever. I shall 
 need to take care of myself —but I think I can do so. I 
 admire her very much indeed. She does not believe it, 
 perhaps, but it is not the less sincere. It has been my 
 fate to be often misconstrued. Natures of a peculiarly 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 75 
 
 sensitive and lofty kind commonly are. At my mature 
 age I am still not insensible to the emotions of early man- 
 hood. A remarkable woman. I should like to know by 
 what peculiar process of extinction she means to get rid of 
 me. I am not afraid of ghosts and apparitions, therefore I 
 presume she will try some other mechanism. Chemistry, 
 I understand, more especially that important branch of 
 the science which refers to the various uses and combina- 
 tions of poison. Well, we shall see. For the present I 
 am safe, because I can be useful. Let the day care for 
 itself. Foscoli lives in activity, in light, and in music' 
 
 He sat to the piano which stood in the room, and sang 
 in his magnificent bass to his own accompaniment a solo 
 from one of Handel's masterpieces. His fingers rippled 
 and sported over the keys as if he were another Thalberg, 
 and his countenance expressed the very serenity and 
 rapture of happiness. 
 
 CHAPTEE Vn. 
 
 l'amour medecin. 
 
 Louis Farbeick sat alone in his chamber, a room over- 
 looking one of the London parks, two evenings after the 
 singular meeting which we have described in the last 
 chapter. He had been reading, but had laid the book 
 aside. His window was open, and he gazed upon the 
 twinkling stars, or paced in melancholy reverie up and 
 down the chamber. Farbrick was a young man, but his 
 fine face was assuming prematurely some of the lines 
 of age. 
 
 * Am I then mad ? ' he asked himself in muttered 
 tones. * Is the struggle after science ending in insanity ? 
 Did love but warm my heart to scorch my brain ? Am I 
 like the moth and the candle of which v/riters have not 
 
76 OUR SENSATIO^ NOVEL 
 
 unfrequently spoken ? Men begin to look strange upon 
 me. I read suspicion in their side glances. Patients fall 
 away from me. That I heed not. Better that I were 
 indeed alone. I am unfitted to be useful now to aught on 
 earth. I cannot ever serve her, the one I love ! And she 
 — where, who is she ? I see her in my dreams, in my 
 waking thoughts. Two nights since I saw her in very 
 reality. Yes ! I did see her, and it was no madness. But 
 that I felt ashamed of doubting for a moment the evidence 
 of my own clear senses, I w^ould have asked one of those 
 passing strangers on the bridge what he. saw. But it 
 needed not. I saw her, and I am not mad.' 
 
 What sound was that which echoed like a hollow 
 laugh ? What air was that which rushed cold and 
 piercing through the room ? That breath came not from 
 across the park, or from the sweltering town. It chilled 
 the room and raised the hair of the lonely occupant. 
 
 ' It comes again,' he said. ' It still tortures, and 
 haunts me, but I defy it.' 
 
 Faintly on the wall, in the darkness just beneath the 
 window, were seen the luminary pale outlines of a female 
 form. 
 
 ' Fiend ! ' said the physician, * do you come once more 
 to haunt me ? I fear yoa not. Where is she whom I 
 love, and whom you are destroying or have destroyed by 
 your hellish arts ? ' 
 
 A laugh was heard, and a voice replied : 
 
 * If you would save her whom you love, be guided by 
 me. If you would wed her whom you love, obey me. The 
 task is easy. Forget the past — swear solemnly never to 
 reveal, never to allude to, all that has occurred. Swear 
 that you will never, were you clasping your very bride, 
 breathe one word of the strange sights you have seen, of 
 the midnight voice you have heard — and you shall see her 
 again and love her if you will. Eefuse this oath, and I 
 leave you, never to see her more — leave you to loneliness, 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 77 
 
 to misery, to be pointed at as insane and shunned of men. 
 Forget what you have seen and heard and swear ! ' 
 
 * I swear ! ' exclaimed the physician. ' Were the com- 
 pact made with hell itself, it can harm no one to accept it 
 ill such terms. To what avail my remembering or alluding 
 to the past ? Men but smile at me and shun me. I 
 accept the terms and sv/ear ! ' 
 
 Was that a faint sigh w^hich softly, gently, breathed 
 through the room ? It came not from w^here the Luminary 
 Form shone pale and ghastly. 
 
 Now all was silence and darkness. The Luminary 
 Form w^as gone, and the physician exhausted fell upon the 
 couch and slept. 
 
 Morning had far advanced when he awoke ; and he 
 awoke refreshed and brightened. A new kind of day 
 seemed to dawn upon him. He was like one who was 
 just beginning to feel the fulness of retarning health and 
 strength after a long fit of exhausting illness. 
 
 He w^alked in the park and returned bright and almost 
 happy. He felt certain he was about to see her whom he 
 loved soon again. 
 
 As he entered he found a card upon his hall table. 
 An early visitor. He took it carelessly up. It was in- 
 scribed in small and delicate copperplate, ' The Count 
 Foscoli.' He had never seen the name before. 
 
 His servant informed him that the visitor promised to 
 call again. In fact he had not long to wait. A handsome 
 brougham soon drove up to the door, and the portly figure 
 of the Italian exile was seen stepping out. 
 
 He entered Farbrick's study with gentlemanly ease, 
 and without waiting interrogatory entered at once into 
 explanation. 
 
 ' Allow me,' he said, * to claim at once the privilege of 
 acquaintanceship with Dr. Farbrick, although I have never 
 had the honour of seeing him before. But I am the 
 nearest living relative of one who feels a deep interest in 
 
yS OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 Dr. Fcirbrick's Lappiness. In a word, I am the stepfather 
 — may I not say the father — of Mrs. Palegrave, whose name 
 can hardly have been forgotten by Dr. Farbrick. And I 
 have come from Mrs. Palegrave to express the happiness 
 with which upon her retm-n to England, after a lengthened 
 absence, she hears of Dr. Farbrick's restoration to health 
 (he laid the slightest possible emphasis upon the word) 
 and her hope to have soon the pleasure of meeting him.' 
 
 Is it wonderful that the physician started ? He took 
 the hand outstretched to him, and which clasped his wdtli 
 fervour. But there was something beyond description in 
 the bland and polished manner of his new acquaintance 
 which sent a thrill of distrust through him. 
 
 * Mrs. Palegrave,' he stammered, 'never mentioned to 
 me that her stepfather was living.' 
 
 * She never did, my dear doctor,' replied his polite 
 visitor. ' I anticipated your surprise, and it fills me with 
 something of a penitent sensation. There are no secrets 
 from one who is alike a physician and a friend. Wliy 
 should I hesitate to mention that my daughter and I were 
 for some years estranged by one of those trifling, but often 
 protracted quarrels, which so commonly jar with family 
 happiness ? The fault, no doubt, was mine. I am an 
 Italian, my dear doctor, and our Southern blood is warm. 
 My daughter and I differed on some trivial point, and I 
 was too warm — too warm, although moved only by ardent 
 and disinterested affection. We parted for some years. 
 What's that beautiful passage in your eminent poet about 
 rocks that have been rent asunder? Ah, you don't re- 
 member it ! We Italians study perhaps your best poetry 
 more closely than you do yourselves ! or your science 
 absorbs you, and banishes poetry. I, too, am a little, a 
 very little, versed or imbued in some of your sciences. 
 Chemistry I have a little studied. Your profound and 
 practical knowledge would, of course, think lightly of my 
 poor and inexpert trifling.' 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 79 
 
 Farbrick thought he discerned a motive, and a kindly 
 one, in the unintermitting stream of words. He beheved 
 it poured purposely forth in order to allow him to recover 
 that composure and self-control which a message from the 
 mother of one so dear, and so suddenly torn from him, 
 could not but disturb. He spontaneously took the Count's 
 fat, white hand, pressed it warmly, and motioned to a chair. 
 
 * And Miss Palegrave ? ' he asked with assumed steadi- 
 ness and calmness. 
 
 * Miss Palegrave,' said the Count, ^ is perfectly restored 
 to health at least. The long and frequent mental attacks 
 culminated at last in delirium — a result unhappily too 
 common in patients of a certain nervous and sensitive 
 character. But why tell you that, my dear doctor — you 
 who'have made the structure, the strength, and the weak- 
 nesses of the human mind your especial subject of observa- 
 tion and study ? Miss Palegrave recovered, with care and 
 anxious watching, and is at this moment, although some- 
 what worn and wasted-looking, in the enjoyment of good 
 health and in the possession of her perfect and naturally 
 brilliant faculties. But I must warn you, my dear doctor ' 
 (and here he laid his hand almost tenderly upon that of 
 Farbrick), ' that she has forgotten much of the events which 
 preceded the delirium, and may perhaps greet you in a 
 manner which a stranger would consider friendly, but 
 which possibly might seem for reasons, on which I shall 
 not be so indelicate as to dwell, painfully cold to you. 
 But you are a physician, a man of science and intellect ; 
 you knov/ what time and care can do, and you will trust to 
 them, and to your own exquisite skill and noble heart, to 
 effect a perfect restoration.' 
 
 He spoke these words in a tone of the most sympathetic 
 and even affectionate modulation, laying a delicate em- 
 phasis upon the closing words, as if to convey to Farbrick 
 the assurance of a hope which he was too delicate to express. 
 
 *But, doctor,' proceeded the Count, after a moment's 
 
8o OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 expressive and measured pause, * I came liere rather to 
 speak of others than of Miss Palegrave, and you, and me, 
 dear as the interests of the former must ever be to me. 
 My daughter entrusted me with her message to you partly 
 because, I grieve to say, she is unable to appear in this 
 quarter herself. My daughter. Dr. Farbrick, has been only 
 too anxious as a mother and as a friend. Her health and 
 her spirits have suddenly given way. Nothing serious in 
 the least, I hope and firmly believe. But she desires the 
 advice of a valued and a trusted friend — need I say that 
 she wishes to see Dr. Farbrick ? ' 
 
 Farbrick was as one in a dream. He heard the voice 
 and apprehended the meaning of the w^ords it uttered. But 
 a few hours before he had been in the regions of the magical 
 and the supernatural. He could not all at once descend to 
 everyday life, to old ways, to mortal companionships, to 
 mortal weaknesses and ills. 
 
 But he took his hat, entered Count Foscoli's brougham, 
 and was driven rapidly to Park Lane. The Count talked 
 all the way of books, of music, of flowers, and of birds. 
 Farbrick was a profound naturalist. But when he con- 
 versed with Foscoli he seemed to have known nothing, so 
 quickly was all his acquirement anticipated, criticised, 
 surpassed, enlarged by a few careless sentences from his 
 singular companion. Thrilled although Farbrick was with 
 anxiety to see again her whom he loved, with wonder at 
 the extraordinary succession of adventures into which he 
 found himself plunged, he nevertheless had to acknowledge 
 in his own mind that the conversation of Foscoli interested, 
 fascinated, all but engrossed him. 
 
 They entered the library where you, reader, have 
 already been with us. Foscoli left Farbrick alone ; only 
 for a few minutes. He entered the library again and a 
 lady leaned on his arm. 
 
 ' I need scarcely,' he said, * present to Dr. Farbrick my 
 granddaughter, Lucilia Palegrave.' 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 8i 
 
 Farbrick was a man accustomed to restrain his emo- 
 tions, but the blood rushed to his face and he felt almost 
 unable to speak. Lucilia advanced towards him in the 
 friendliest and frankest fashion, pressed his hand, con- 
 gratulated him upon his restored health, and in a few words 
 expressive of deep emotion, spake of the sudden and sin- 
 cfular change which had taken place in her mother's condi- 
 tion. She made, of course, no reference to the past. That 
 was no time for such allusion. Farbrick appreciated her 
 delicacy, and at once proceeded to inquire regarding the 
 manner and symptoms of Mrs. Palegrave's illness. 
 
 But his thoughts were with her who stood before him. 
 V Yes, conceal it though she would, she must have suffered 
 long and deeply. What history of silent agony was written 
 in those lines about the mouth and eyes, slight, indeed, but 
 full of painful meaning to the eye of the physician, of the 
 lover. It almost seemed to him as if the crisis through 
 which she had passed, brief comparatively, although it had 
 been, had ebbed away, carr^dng youth upon its receding 
 tide. Youth, but surely not loveliness ; for that was a 
 beautiful, sad, spiritual, almost awful countenance, on 
 which he gazed ; yes, terrible in its severe, and mournful, 
 and wasted lines, was that the face over whose soft girlish 
 outlines he used to hang so rapturously scarce a year 
 back ? Was that clear, chilling, thrilling voice the sweet 
 utterance which used to tell him of love ? Sometimes he 
 gazed with almost a doubt, almost a terror upon her. Ah, 
 but sickness, delirium are quick transformers. Who should 
 better know that than he, the physician ? If he might but 
 say one word of the past ; but hear her breathe one accent ; 
 see her give one tender glance of love ! Selfish thought 
 which he strove to banish. Enough that she whom he 
 loved still lived, and that he gazed upon her face. 
 
 He constrained himself at last, and remembered only 
 thafc he was a healer come to visit the sick. 
 
 After a while he was shown into the darkened room 
 
 G 
 
Sz OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 where lay the patient. He had been forewarned that she 
 was subject to unconscious and even dehrious fits ; that she 
 could not at those times endure light or much of sound. 
 Lucilia, Count Foscoli, and a foreign-looking woman who 
 acted as nurse, were present. In the darkness Farbrick 
 could see only the bare outlines of Mrs. Palegrave's face 
 still further shadowed by her long dark hair. She lay 
 gazing around her quietly, and rarely spoke. Only when 
 he entered she looked at him fixedly for a moment, and in 
 a tone of momentary thrillingness pronounced his name, 
 Why did the sound penetrate his every fibre ? Why, when 
 he took her hand to feel her pulse, did his heart beat with 
 so wild and passionate a throb ? Was it because of the 
 strange and supernatural terrors which so long had haunted 
 him in connection with her who lay unconscious before 
 him ? Or was it because the scene and the purpose of his 
 visit reminded him of that past time when he thus stood 
 beside the couch of another beautiful and unconscious 
 patient whom he loved with all his heart's passion ? How 
 strange it seemed somehov/ to know that she, the loved 
 one, stood now in health and reason by his very side, and 
 yet his heart scarcely seemed to pour its emotions towards 
 her ! Poor physician ! Helpless healer ! Cheated and 
 mocked by his emotions ! There were moments when in 
 the form stretched upon that couch he almost believed he 
 s.iw the living figure of his loved Lucilia, and could have 
 Hung himself upon her bosom and conjured her to recog- 
 nise him, to name his name, to tell him that she knew and 
 loved him still. 
 
 The voice of Foscoli recalled him to himself. 
 
 * Until consciousness returns,' he said, ' you can of 
 course do but little for my dearest daughter. This fit will 
 soon leave her, and then we will have the windows opened 
 and the light and air admitted. Then I trust you will be 
 able to give us some guidance and some hope.' 
 
 Farbrick gave some ordinary prescription for cooling 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL Z3 
 
 draughts, sedatives, &c., and left the house with a throbbing 
 heart and giddy brain. 
 
 The following day he returned and saw Mrs. Palegrave 
 again. She was then perfectly conscious, but described 
 herself as very weak, and calmly declared that she felt 
 herself dying. She begged that Lucilia might be kept 
 ignorant of her fears, and said that she had herself insisted 
 upon her daughter's driving out that day, that she might 
 not be present at the medical interview. Lucilia, there- 
 fore, Farbrick did not see. He felt none of his emotions 
 of the previous day, except that it struck him painfully 
 how like to each other mother and daughter had grown in 
 illness. Did the same doom, then, threaten both ? He 
 trembled for Lucilia. 
 
 He recommended that other physicians should be called 
 in. Foscoli, while professing the fullest confidence in 
 Farbrick' s medical skill, earnestly and warmly supported 
 the recommendation. The patient peremptorily, and, 
 indeed, almost peevishly, declined. Farbrick consented 
 to humour her, not believing that any catastrophe w^as 
 really at hand. 
 
 Next day he was summoned rather suddenly, and was 
 told that Mrs. Palegrave had prepared her will, and was 
 determined upon having it signed and completed. A 
 notary, of whose character and respectability Farbrick was 
 aware, was in attendance. 
 
 ' Dr. Farbrick will see,' said the patient in a faint voice, 
 ' that I have not forgotten him, and that I have made pro- 
 vision for an event which I earnestly hope may one day 
 come to pass. . I wish him to sign the will as a witness. 
 I have read it, and do not need it to be read again. I 
 deliver it as my hand and deed — is not that your legal 
 phrase, Mr. Lincoln ? ' she said, faintly smiling, to the 
 notary. 
 
 ' It is usual,' whispered the man of law, ' to read out 
 the contents of the will in the presence of the witnesses.' 
 
 g2 
 
84 UR SENS A TION NO VEL 
 
 * If it be five minutes under perusal it will be read in 
 the presence of a delirious woman,' said the patient. ' I 
 feel myself already growing confused. Let me sign my 
 name.' 
 
 And, supported by the nurse and Count Foscoli, she 
 signed with a firm hand the name ' Lucilia Palegrave.' 
 
 Farbrick and Foscoli signed as witnesses. 
 
 She lay back on the pillow and thanked them with a 
 smile. ' Surely,' thought Farbrick, ' on that face there is 
 no shadow of death.' 
 
 He descended the stairs with Mr. Lincoln. ' I do not 
 think, doctor, that your patient is really in any immediate 
 danger,' said the notary. 
 
 *I certainly have no present fears,' replied Farbrick. 
 * But the case somewhat puzzles me.' 
 
 As they reached the hall both started and looked with 
 blank faces upon each other. A shriek had rung through 
 the house. Not like the shriek of the dying, but like that 
 of delirium — wild, piercing, terrifying, 
 
 ' It is Lucilia 's voice,' said Farbrick. ' I must — I will 
 see her ! ' 
 
 She had not appeared during this last interview. It 
 seemed but natural that she should be spared the pain. 
 
 Farbrick turned and began to re-ascend the stairs. The 
 foreign-looking nurse met him. 
 
 ' Mrs. Palegrave is again a little delirious,' she said. 
 ^ But it is nothing. She will be better presently. Count 
 Foscoli thinks it needless to detain you, but sends his com- 
 pliments, and hopes you will return during the evening.' 
 
 Farbrick mechanically quitted the house. But the shriek 
 haunted him all the way, and followed him into his lonely 
 study. He longed to return to the house. 
 
 But he was destined not soon to return there. Leaving 
 his own home that night, he had not gone two streets away 
 when he perceived that he was being dodged and followed 
 by two men who skulked in the darkness. It was about 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 85 
 
 ten o'clock, and he was not to have returned to Mrs. Pale- 
 grave's until near midnight. Those were the days when 
 garrotte was the terror of the capital. He looked round 
 for a policeman — there was none. Need it be said that 
 there was none to be seen ? He was a strong man ; but 
 his only Aveapon was a slight cane. Determined to show 
 no fear, he turned directly round and prepared to pass the 
 men. As he did so one came in front to bar his passage. 
 Farbrick endeavoured to shoulder him away, when he felt 
 the gripe of the other around his throat from behind. He 
 struck wildly out, but a blow of a heavy bludgeon fell upon 
 his head, and the strangling gripe of the ruffian behind 
 tightened around him. His head reeled, lights danced 
 before his eyes— another blow, and he staggered. He 
 could, however, hear a loud shout from behind, and foot- 
 steps hurrying up, when the gripe was released, and he fell 
 senseless and bleeding on the pavement. 
 
 • ..... . 
 
 It was the voice of Philip Latimer, Esq., of the Inner 
 Temple 5 which scared away the ruffians who had attacked 
 Dr. Farbrick, and the form of this learned young personage 
 promptly showed itself by the fallen doctor's side. 
 
 * Hullo ! ' he exclaimed, flinging away his cigar, * here's 
 a go ! Stab men in the dark ! Here, friend, lend a hand, 
 and let us get this poor fellow out of this place.' 
 
 These words were addressed to a stranger who had just 
 come up. The assailants had evidently escaped round the 
 corner. 
 
 The stranger was a powerfully built man, beyond the 
 middle age. Philip was struggling in vain to raise the 
 robust and heavy frame of the fallen man. The stranger 
 gently pushed him aside, and lifted Farbrick in his arms 
 as if he had been raising an infant. ' Whither shall he be 
 borne ? ' asked the stranger in a slightly foreign tone, but 
 speaking perfect English. 
 
 * How the devil should I know ? ' responded our friend 
 
86 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 Latimer. * Seems a gentleman, and is a decidedly good- 
 looking fellow. Hope he isn't dead. I say, what a strong 
 fellov/ you are ! How do you manage to carry him so 
 easily ? ' 
 
 * Strength,' said the stranger, ' is given to Society to 
 destroy — to the Individual to defend.' 
 
 ^ Yes, just so,' rejoined Philip ; ' but I wish we saw a 
 policeman somewhere. Suppose you hold this poor fellow 
 up while I look down all the neighbouring areas for an 
 officer of the law. But I say, though,' he added, looking 
 up suddenly at his new companion, * you must have met 
 the ruffians who knocked him down. They must have run 
 your way.' 
 
 ^ They did run my way,' was the calm response. 
 
 * Then why on earth did you not stop them ? ' 
 
 * I did stop them.' 
 
 * But you must have let them off again.' 
 
 * I did let them off.' 
 
 * Afraid of getting your own brains knocked out, I dare 
 say. Wish I had been there — I shouldn't have been afraid, 
 though I haven't half your strength. By Jove ! a chap 
 like you should have held a dozen such.' 
 
 Philip began to look with some distrust upon his new 
 companion, and evidenced a manifest disinclination to leave 
 the senseless man, who wore a splendid watch and chain, 
 alone in such suspicious company. 
 
 Suddenly a rapid footfall v/as heard, and somebody 
 came along whistling a difficult passage from Beethoven. 
 The new-comer was a tall and portly man. He instantly 
 approached our friends. 
 
 * I apprehend the situation,' he remarked, at once. 
 * An attempt at robbery, and a wounded man. Can I 
 render any assistance ? Let me be commanded. In the 
 cause of humanity my time and trouble are as nothing. 
 Your London streets are quite a disgrace to that which you 
 call your civilization. As well to be killed by a coiii^ (Vetat 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL Zj 
 
 as by a robber. An emperor's knock on the head is no 
 more than a bm-glar's. But, good heavens ! What do I 
 see ? My dear and valued friend, Dr. Farbrick ! One of 
 the hghts of our science thus all but extinguished ! His 
 residence happily is quite close at hand. Let us bear him 
 thither.' 
 
 This new-comer was Count Foscoli. 
 
 Even in London the policeman must appear at last. 
 Two of the body came hurrying up. A small crowd had 
 gathered. 
 
 ' Allow me,' said Foscoli, ' to request that all will stand 
 aside except those immediately interested. Air is generally 
 considered of importance to persons in a sw^oon. My valued 
 friend. Dr. Farbrick, is a man of powerful constitution. 
 He will soon recover consciousness.' .: 
 
 Dr. Farbrick was borne to his own home. The func- 
 tionary of the law opened a hasty investigation into the 
 circumstances. Philip detailed all he saw and knew, 
 which was not maich. Count Foscoli had seen nothing of 
 the affair. The stranger gave his name as Leblanc, a 
 Frenchman, and stated that the assailants had passed him 
 as he came up the street. It struck everyone as singular 
 that he should have made no attempt to stay the miscreants, 
 Count Foscoli in particular shrugged his shoulders and 
 looked at the inspector with eyes full of meaning. The 
 inspector, having considered the w^hole transaction, deter- 
 mined to arrest the stranger. 
 
 But the streaiger was gone. Immediately after making 
 his statement he had quitted the room unperceived. No 
 one there knew anything of him. 
 
 But we know him. It was Pierre Valpierre. It was 
 Maladine. It was the for9at, the outlaw, the public bene- 
 factor, the refugee. It was the scorn of Society. It was 
 Society's reproach, warning, moral lesson. 
 
 It is certain that Valpierre had met the fugitive as- 
 sassins. Could any eyes have gazed from adjacent windows 
 
88 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 as these in their flight met Leblanc or Valpierre, they 
 would have seen a strange sight. 
 
 For as the assassins fled, Valpierre calmly stood before 
 them and said ' Stand ! ' They attempted to hnrl him from 
 their path. Absurd, futile. He laid one hand firm on the 
 collar of each, and they stood as in irons. 
 
 * What have you done ? ' he calmly asked. ' Murdered ? ' 
 
 * What the devil's that to you ? ' was the rude response 
 of one. * Are you a bobby ? ' 
 
 The other attempted to trip him up, to seize him by 
 the throat, to strike at him with a bludgeon. With one 
 hand Valpierre held both their collars. With the other he 
 disarmed them both ; always perfectly serene, and as one 
 who half unconscious and abstracted performs some slight 
 and easy duty. 
 
 Then he held each out at full arm's length from him. 
 And he said as if talking to himself : 
 
 * Murder attempted for the sake of robbery ! Blood 
 drunk in the thirst for gold. Do ye need gold ? I have 
 some and need it not. Here ; take this money, and hence- 
 forth seek to serve and love your kind ! Society must be 
 redeemed through its victims. The lost must become the 
 finders. The outcast is to become the protector. The 
 robber shall be the regenerator. Away and quit the realms 
 of night for the regions of the sun ! ' 
 
 He placed a heavy purse in the hand of either robber, 
 then released his grip from eich and went his way without 
 looking back. The outcasts gazed upon each other be- 
 wildered, and fled. 
 
 It was then that Valpierre proceeded onward and came 
 up with Philip Latimer. 
 
 The rest we know up to the time of Valpierre's dis- 
 appearance. 
 
 • ••••• t 
 
 Several days after Mr. Philip Latimer thus wrote to a 
 confidential friend : 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 89 
 
 * I have made a new acquaintance — a very worthy 
 fellow, although a doctor. I found him, sir, as the Good 
 Samaritan found the traveller, fallen among thieves, and 
 rather cut up indeed by them. I attended to his wounds, 
 and saw to the wine and the oil ; but, luckily perhaps for 
 your correspondent, he was not called upon to stand the 
 test of paying the twopence. Farbrick is his name— Louis 
 Farbrick — and he is the best specimen of his brethren I 
 have ever seen. I look in upon him every day now that he is 
 convalescing, and we smoke the calumet of peace a good deal. 
 
 * But there is a coincidence about this matter — at least, 
 something which you, unbelieving sceptic, heretic, and 
 Pharisee, would call a coincidence ; but which I, sir, prefer 
 to call the guiding hand of an irresistible destiny. There's 
 a providence, sir, which shapes our ends, and all the rest* 
 of it. We are rowing in the same boat, he and I. We 
 are slaves of the same fatal passion. He too has been to 
 sea — aye, on the very same waves, and has been wrecked and 
 cast ashore on the very same rough beach. He too loves 
 Ophelia — forty thousand brothers could not with all their 
 quantity of love make up his sum. He loves Lucilia. He 
 knew her even before your humble servant's foolish passion 
 became a target for the scorn of certain unthinking com- 
 rades. But out and alas ! there the parallel ends. For I 
 fear it cannot be doubted that the girl loves him, and by 
 Jove, do you know, hated rival though he be, I don't 
 blame her, and I could almost find it in my heart to con- 
 gratulate him. He is wealthy, sir, which other persons 
 are not. Look upon this picture and on this. He has 
 plenty of practice in his profession, and he does not want 
 it, having fortune enough besides. I have no practice in 
 mine, and I do want it, having not a penny in the world. 
 I am going to visit her with him. Her mother, the siren, 
 is dead and buried, poor woman. She died while Farbrick 
 was still in danger from his wounds (did I say that he was 
 garrotted and fearfully battered ?) ; and albeit I^ loved her 
 
so OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 not, yet I was shocked to hear of her death. They are 
 living in Park Lane — by " they " I mean LuciHa (elieii !) 
 and her mother's stepfather, a fat Itahan count, a gentle- 
 manhke, accomplished, and on the whole devilish queer 
 sort of person. 
 
 * Yes, I did hold a brief in IPotis and Potts, and cross- 
 examined two witnesses, &c. &c.' 
 
 On a subsequent day this same young man writes 
 again a letter of which the following is an excerpt : 
 
 ' We were there last night. We saw her. She is very 
 much altered, looks paler and older somehow, the very 
 same, and yet not at all like herself. I asked Farbrick 
 coming away if he did not think her greatly changed, and 
 he became quite distrait and fell into such a reverie that 
 *I had smoked out two w^hole cigars before he recovered. 
 What extraordinary beings we are ! Am I a selfish, mean, 
 base, pitiful, scoundrel ? Is it that I think the girl less 
 lovely because she evidently does not love me ? I knov/ 
 that she is to be married to Farbrick. I think of her a 
 year back, and I madden at the thought that she is not 
 mine. I look upon her now, and I seem somehow to be 
 resigned. I wonder whether there is any reality about 
 that Bride of Corinth story ? I took up my old volume of 
 Goethe last night on getting home, and the book opened 
 at that very place, " Es schlagt Kein Hertz in ihrer 
 Brust." I don't know what to make of it, but when I look 
 at her or think of her, I see before me the dead Bride of 
 Corinth, a bloodless ghost in her lover's arms. Of course 
 you will laugh at all this, and you may.' 
 
 It seemed indeed to Philip's friends that he was cured 
 already of his passion. They had expected his convales- 
 cence for some time. I do not believe that story of the 
 Bride of Corinth. At least, I think we have not heard all 
 the truth of it. I dare say the young gentleman it was 
 who had grown rather cool upon the business, and chose 
 to invent that Httle tale about the girl's having no heart at 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 91 
 
 all, and being all bone and ice and lifelessness. Who- 
 ever in ordinary life tells his mistress that he has changed 
 his mind towards her, and that whereas the fire of her 
 eyes once warmed his heart, now it only freezes it like 
 snow and salt ? Don't we always begin by accusing lier 
 of the change and finding in her the coldness ? You do 
 not suppose that Komeo was such a baby as to walk 
 straight off to Eosalind and announce to her that he did 
 not care twopence about her any longer, that he had been 
 struck all of a heap by Juliet's beauty, which taught the 
 torches to burn bright by her fine foot, straight leg, and 
 other charms and graces ? Allonsdonc, Be sure that Eomeo 
 went about the business in quite a different way. ' You 
 are cold to me, you are changed to your Komeo, dearest 
 Eosalind,' says the rogue. * Nay, never seek to disguise it ! 
 I read it in your altered tones and averted eyes ' (the poor 
 girl all the while clinging around him and beseeching 
 him with looks and words which might have softened a 
 turbaned Turk). ^ You love me no more, madame,' he says. 
 * I saw it this long time ; you have given your heart to 
 some one else. Hence, thou false one ! go, ungrateful ! I 
 pardon, pity, and leave you ! ' And away he dashes from 
 the swooning Eosalind, having by this time quite con- 
 vinced himself that he really is a mirror of constancy, and 
 a deceived and outraged man, and he knows no repose 
 until five minutes after, when, resting on the bosom of 
 Juliet, he pours out the assurances of his first, his last, his 
 unalterable and never-dying passion. 
 
 Now this we thought at the time was the case with Mr. 
 Philip. We supposed he had found a new Juliet, or at 
 all events had grown tired of the old one. From our 
 somewhat intimate knowledge of the young fellow's dis- 
 position, we were of opinion that nothing could be more 
 likely to suggest to him deficiencies in Eosalind, than the 
 possibility that Eosalind might after all prefer to marry 
 somebody else. Therefore we were not in the least 
 
92 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 alarmed about his personal health and comfort. We had 
 opportunities too of perceiving that the bitter beer had not 
 lost its taste nor the Havannah its flavour. I have no 
 doubt that when Philip gets on at the bar, which of course, 
 having talent and high principle, he is sure to do, these 
 being the only essentials of success in that noble pro- 
 fession, provided indeed that the bloated aristocracy should 
 not grow too jealous of him as they did of the eminent 
 Queen's Counsel, now an exile in a foreign land, because of 
 his too brilliant genius and his fatally elevated character — • 
 but I have no doubt, I say, that when Philip gets on at 
 the bar, he will marry some blooming girl and be a very 
 devoted husband to her. I do not say that he will tell 
 her each and every incident of his early passion for 
 Kosalind, and Juliet, and Lucilia, and how do I know 
 how many besides, and I certainly do not mean to send to 
 his car a s^osa the little bundles of his letters I happen 
 still to possess, in which he pours out all the ardour of his 
 successive loves. I say I don't think he will tell his wife 
 all these old stories. My dear sir, have you confided to 
 your beloved consort the full particulars of all your little 
 predilections and love pursuits before your marriage ? 
 Of course you know all her secrets, oh dear yes, every one ; 
 that is quite a different thing. Our women are all the 
 properest, most passionless, and constant creatures in the 
 world. They never know what it is to fall in love until 
 the very moment when they are enabled with pro- 
 priety to meet the advances of their future husbands. 
 There is your wife, Jones, my friend, the most proper of 
 beings. Since she was sent to her aunts to be out of the 
 way of that dancing master, I don't believe she fell into 
 any nonsensical love affair (for really I don't call that little 
 flirtation with Captain Clinks any harm) until she was 
 going to marry the curate whom you, Jones, so happily 
 supplanted. There was a time indeed when your humble 
 servant had some reason to think that his addresses were 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 93 
 
 not — but pslia ! what use is there in raking up such old 
 stories. I give you my word, I have burned every one of 
 her letters long ago (except just two or three), and nobody 
 shall ever see them. So we are all confidence, candour, 
 and constancy. And what matters it after all when in a 
 very little while the Faithful Shepherd sometimes is treated 
 no better than — nay not half so well as — the Lovelace or 
 the inconstant ; and to this day the scandalous world has 
 not quite made up its mind as to whether Penelope in the 
 absence of her spouse was the most faithful of wives, or 
 Ulysses on his return the most believing and unsuspicious 
 of husbands ? 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 THE ENCOUNTEE. 
 
 Louis Faebrick was restored to health. He was restored 
 to the society of her whom a year before he would have 
 given health and even life only to call his own. Was he 
 happy ? 
 
 It was during his illness that the death and interment 
 of j\Irs. Palegrave took place. On his restoration to health 
 it was determined that after a fitting time of mourning had 
 elapsed he should become the husband of Lucilia. He had 
 himself resolved immediately after that happy event to 
 leave England for many years. In a bright southern 
 climate he hoped to find health for his beloved and 
 happiness for himself. 
 
 Yes, happiness ; for he was not happy. He had sought 
 felicity in science, and it eluded and mocked him. He 
 sought it in love, and it vanished at his very approach. 
 
 Lucilia was not the same. Her illness and delirium 
 had left a deep — he sometimes thought a fearful — change. 
 She was abstracted, fitful, querulous ; sometimes given 
 to passionate bursts and gusts of affection, sometimes 
 
94 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 suspicious, cold, watchful, anxious. In the presence of 
 Count Foscoli she was especially uneasy and complaining. 
 ' Come away,' she would frequently say in a thrilling 
 whisper to Farbrick, ' come away.' 
 
 * Where, my dearest ? ' he w^ould reply, tenderly 
 humouring her. 
 
 ' Anywhere, oh, anywhere out of this ! ' 
 
 This was always when Count Foscoli entered the room. 
 
 Meanwhile Count Foscoli was as bland and genial as 
 ever. He played upon his guitar ; he trolled out great 
 bursts of song in his magnificent bass voice ; he fondled 
 his darling Fidelio. 
 
 One evening Farbrick had to leave the house of the 
 Count and Lucilia somewhat early. He walked rather 
 sadly homeward. Lucilia had been peculiarly distraite, 
 fitful, and melancholy. Count Foscoli had remained in 
 the room during the whole evening. Scarcely had Far- 
 brick departed when Lucilia rose to her feet. 
 
 * Foscoli,' she said sternly, ' there must be an end of 
 this. We must part.' 
 
 * When you will, dearest granddaughter,' said the exile 
 mildly. * You hurry abroad on the wings of love ; the 
 venerable parent remains behind in solitude. Poor con- 
 solation to him, a fine house and a large fortune. He is 
 not mercenary ; but such as the consolation is he accepts 
 it and his destiny. We part, then. To you the love and 
 the happiness ; to me the fortune and the solitude.' 
 
 * You shall be paid,' said the lady, ' if that be your 
 meaning. We will, of course, hold to our agreement. You 
 shall have your terms on condition that you follow me no 
 more.' 
 
 ' Dearest Lucilia, how can you forget that if I be the 
 mercenary creature you would paint me, I shall no longer 
 have need to follow you ? You fly to the arms of a devoted 
 lover who scorns fortune. Ge n'est pas ta dot ! He has 
 wealth for both. This your tender mother foresaw, and, 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 95 
 
 pitying the loneliness of the deserted Foscoli, blie provided 
 for his sinking years by leaving him her fortune.' 
 
 ^Foscoli,' said the other contemptuously, ^ you dream 
 or dote.' 
 
 ' We are all dreamers,' he replied, ' in one sense. Life, 
 indeed, itself — what is it but a dream ? But if there be 
 any prosaic reality it is surely in dull, legal parchment, 
 such, for instance, as the will I hold in my possession made 
 by my beloved step-daughter, the late Lucilia Palegrave, 
 in the presence of Mr. Lincoln the notary, and witnessed 
 by Dr. Louis Farbrick, in which she bequeaths the whole 
 of her fortune, saving the usual trifling legacies, to her 
 devoted stepfather Foscoli ! ' 
 
 ' You have not dared to attempt such a trick ? ' She 
 turned upon him with livid cheeks and eyes of flame. 
 
 * Why "trick ? " — a coarse expression. The late Lucilia 
 Palegrave signed the will with her own hand. She was in 
 full possession of her senses. She did not permit it to be 
 read aloud to her, but that, as you may possibly know, was 
 because there were certain bequests and considerations in 
 it which it was feared might awaken certain suspicions on 
 the part of one of the witnesses, my valued friend and revered 
 physician. Dr. Farbrick. Why unjustly infer that Lucilia 
 Palegrave did not know that the will bequeathed all her 
 property to me ? What avails any such inference now ? 
 The will is signed, sealed, and proved. Lucilia Palegrave 
 — the late Lucilia — is dead. She surely cannot come to 
 life again ; besides being impossible, that, you know, would 
 be inconvenient. It would give rise to the strangest in- 
 quiries ; it might necessitate the evolving of a whole 
 biography. No, no, Lucilia Palegrave the elder is dead. 
 It is not for us poor mortals to struggle against the decrees 
 of fate.' 
 
 'You shall repent this,' she said. * This I will not 
 endure. I will expose you to the world for the cheat, liar, 
 and forger that you are. You shall die the death of a felon ! 
 
96 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 Away with every tiling rather than endure this ! I will pro- 
 claim to Farbrick what you are, and how you have deceived 
 both him and me.' 
 
 Foscoli smiled. 
 
 * And proclaim to Farbrick, too, what you are,' he said 
 in tones of gentle remonstrance. * What, then, becomes 
 of the late dream of love and the hope of everlasting youth ? 
 Is he not the sole being in this generation who can aid you 
 to work out your mystery and give you life ? So, at least, 
 you confided to me in a moment of generous trustfulness. 
 He alone possesses the nerves, the brains, the vital force, 
 the spirit, which could divine the whereabouts and work 
 the combination of the magic elixir ! Foscoli is too sen- 
 suous, too vulgar, too much of the earth, earthy, and the 
 subtle spirits will not deal with him ! Why, then, refuse 
 to the poor Foscoli, who knows no magic art and cannot 
 prolong his existence by one day, the power of making 
 his few remaining years happy in his vulgar, enjoying, 
 human kind of way ? He is, unhappily for himself — for- 
 tunately, perhaps, for his friends — only mortal. He soon 
 is gathered to his illustrious fathers. The wealth, of which 
 he has had but a brief use, returns scarcely impaired to his 
 longer-lived friend. Think, oh, my fair daughter — grand- 
 daughter — what is it ? — think, and be prudent ! Eemember 
 you have denied to the admiring Foscoli your hand and 
 heart ! Take not from him the poor consolation of enjoying 
 for a while less noble treasures. Eemember that if he loses 
 these you lose all. Be calm ; let me play you this delicious 
 cantata I A soul so spiritual as yours cannot be soothed 
 and lulled by any influence so well as by divinest harmony.' 
 
 She had quitted the room. The Count remained alone 
 in the gathering twilight. He sang and played to himself, 
 a sweet smile mantling his face, and his eyes upturned with 
 the enthusiastic and enraptured expression of one whose 
 very soul is wrapped up in his own strains. 
 
 The window was an open one with a balcony. It 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 97 
 
 looked upon a delicious garden at the back of the house. 
 The front windows, it need not be said, looked upon the 
 park. 
 
 Foscoli sat and played, his face turned from the window. 
 He was rapt in his own sounds, and did not hear a rustling 
 and rattling of the balcony. He was rapt in the music, 
 and did not notice a sudden darkening of the window. K 
 man had climbed into the balcony and entered the room 
 before he was aware of any presence but his own. 
 
 The sound attracted him at last. He turned round and 
 saw a man, strongly built, roughly clad, covered with dust 
 and soil. 
 
 Foscoli was both brave and calm. 
 
 ^ A robber,' he q[uietly said, and looked with a hasty, 
 comprehensive glance around the chamber in quest of a 
 weapon. 
 
 ' No robber,' said the intruder. ' A victim — a fugitive 
 from society ! A stranger, I claim, I beseech your shelter. 
 The spies of French injustice and despotism have hunted 
 me from place to place. Chance or heaven sent me to 
 take sudden refuge in this house. I am at your mercy. I 
 claim your English protection.' 
 
 ' A fine speech ! ' said the Count. ' But if you are no 
 criminal you need no protection ; and British law cannot 
 shield you from French police, supposing, which I am 
 much inclined to believe, that the French police have good 
 reason to hunt you down. Besides, friend, it just occurs 
 to me that I have seen your face before. You are the man 
 who disappeared so suddenly on the night when my friend, 
 Dr. Farbrick, was so nearly murdered. The British police 
 will be glad to see you too. You have run your head into 
 the lion's mouth, my friend, and the lion, not being an ass, 
 will close his jaws. It is particularly convenient and 
 indeed essential for me that somebody should be convicted 
 of that attack. You are the man I have long sought. How 
 delightful that you should have come uninvited ! ' 
 
 H 
 
98 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 Interposing between the stranger and the window, the 
 Count was about to ring the bell violently. 
 
 Need we say that the stranger was Pierre Valpierre ? 
 
 The expression upon Valpierre's face was merely calm 
 and sad. 
 
 * Stay ! ' he said in a firm but melancholy tone. * A 
 word before you summon the myrmidons of your police. 
 You have refused me the shelter which the desert Arab, 
 nay, the civilized outcast, denies not. I know you. I 
 knew you at the first glance, but I scorned to betray you. 
 Have you forgotten me ? Have you forgotten Pierre, sur- 
 named the Steam Hammer, at the bagnes of Toulon ? 
 For years you and I were chained by the same ball. You 
 are the Corsican forger and felon v/ho escaped from prison 
 with me. You have sold yourself to the Austrian, and you 
 are now a spy. A word to the police of France, and you 
 are dragged back to the hulks for life. A word to any 
 Italian Carbonaro, and there is a dagger in your heart ! I 
 betray not your secret. Amend your life and live ! But 
 dare not to detain me ! ' 
 
 With a firm step Valpierre turned to quit the room by 
 means of the window and the balcony which he had scaled. 
 
 ' You shall never leave this room alive,' said the Count. 
 ' You have my secret, but you shall not betray it. You 
 have broken into this house, I presume, to rob and murder; 
 it is my right to defend myself.' 
 
 With a gleaming knife in his hand he sprang upon 
 Valpierre. 
 
 Then arose a short but terrible struggle. 
 
 Valpierre was unarmed. Foscoli was strong and active. 
 But Valpierre's strength was as that of a giant. He wrested 
 the weapon from his enemy, flung him on the floor, and 
 bent over him ! 
 
 Noiselessly the door opened, and a female form, unseen 
 in the semi-darkness, gazed with gleaming eyes upon the 
 struQfpie. 
 
 'OO 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 99 
 
 Foscoli strove to rise. Valpierre did not prevent him, 
 only holding both his struggling arms in a Titanic gripe. 
 No word was spoken for a moment. At length Valpierre 
 said — 
 
 * Man of snares and crime, I seek not your life. Eepent 
 and live. I betray not your secret if you molest not me. 
 Turn from your evil ways — and farewell.' 
 
 He was opening his grasp to permit his antagonist to 
 rise. Foscoli's face was towards the door. His eyes met 
 those of the silent gazer, and his countenance underwent 
 such an expression of surprise that Valpierre involuntarily 
 turned to look in the same direction. 
 
 At that instant there was a flash of fire, a sharp ex- 
 plosion, a wreath of smoke, and Foscoli fell back on the 
 floor. 
 
 He was dead. A pistol bullet had pierced his heart ! 
 
 Valpierre stood appalled. She who had seen the struggle 
 rushed forward and clasped his hand. 
 
 * Not a word ! ' she said. ' I saved your life once, and 
 can save it again. That you are not a galley-slave now 
 you owe to me. Speak not a v/ord of what you have seen. 
 Your enemy and mine — the enemy of society and of me — 
 is dead. I, not you, have slain him. But you must escape 
 from here for ever, and your escape shall save us both.' 
 
 Slie drew him away in haste. Valpierre followed as 
 one who w^alks in a dream. 
 
 CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 THE PARK LANE TRAGEDY. 
 
 Next day every newsboy in town shouted the ' Park Lane 
 Tragedy ! ' The press broke out into second, third, fourth 
 editions with ' latest intelligence ' and * still later particu- 
 lars.' It was read by the passengers on the omnibuses. 
 
 H 2 
 
loo OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 It was discussed by the passengers in the penny steamers. 
 Men rushed frantically into public -houses and had two- 
 penny worths hot with sugar to allay their excitement. 
 Park Lane was besieged, and the aristocratic denizens of 
 that locality were favoured with the presence of visitors, 
 the like of whom they had never seen before. Only the 
 most energetic and determined conduct on the part of In- 
 spector Grumps, ' the indefatigable Inspector Grumps ' as 
 he was described in the reports of the evening papers, could 
 effect a clearance for the carriages of the distinguished 
 residents. The * Park Lane Tragedy ' was wafted up to 
 Hammersmith upon the smoke of the Kew steamers. The 
 ' Park Lane Tragedy ' was borne to Greenwich by the ebb 
 tide, and actually banished for that whole day the narra- 
 tives of the five-and-forty peripatetic pensioners who had 
 all been present at the death of Nelson. Placards about it 
 were posted at Hampstead and Highbury. It was the 
 theme of moral exposition at the pious tea-parties of Clap- 
 ham. The drivers of the omnibuses knew all about it. 
 The toll-men on the bridges carried on unbroken conversa- 
 tion about it, aking up with the new-comer exactly where 
 the last comer had left off. Little Simon Smiffles talked 
 about it all day like the rest, and rubbed his nose and 
 looked up at the Clock Tower incessantly. The chimes 
 from the Clock Tower itself seemed to hammer out ' Park 
 Lane Tragedy ' all through the day. The air was redolent 
 of ' Park Lane Tragedy.' The water rushing round the 
 buttresses of the bridges flashed merrily to the sound of 
 * Park Lane Tragedy.' 
 
 Anyone who had been to Park Lane that day and 
 gazed from the outside upon the scene of the tragedy was 
 a man of importance in the City and the borough. People 
 came around him and caught his every word, to bear it 
 away into new spheres, and become persons of importance 
 themselves. Individuals who had never spoken to him 
 before solicited the avour of his company at the bar of the 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL loi 
 
 adjacent public -house and stood anything he hked. The 
 landlord paused in the act of drawing the half-and-half to 
 catch every word of the conversation, the barmaid opened 
 her eyes and gazed at the stranger, and the small potboy 
 in the distance peeped at him. Everybody had his own 
 version of the event ; but this man's story bore down all 
 the rest, for he had been to Park Lane and looked at the 
 scene of the tragedy. 
 
 All day long the bell of the area in the Park Lane house 
 was being pulled by the envoys of the evening papers eager 
 for fresh news. The penny-a-liners had been hovering 
 round the spot from early dawn, and were at intervals seen 
 diving into the ' Great Duke ' public -house round the corner, 
 where the servants of the aristocracy bestowed their 
 patronage. There the penny-a-liners prepared fresh heaps 
 of ' flimsy ' and despatched them to the City, and then, with 
 reddening faces and thickening utterance, sought the area 
 bell once more and inquired furtively after later intelli- 
 gence. The coroner had been communicated with, and the 
 ' active and intelligent beadle, Mr. Bones,' had already 
 been making prompt arrangements to accommodate the 
 twelve good men and true who were to form the inquest. 
 He had taken for this important purpose the large room of 
 the ' Great Duke,' and had had a long table placed down the 
 centre, with seats for the twelve British householders, a 
 few dusty old benches for the British public, an armchair 
 at the top for the British coroner, and a little table at the 
 side of that functionary, with chairs around it, and pens, 
 ink, and paper on it, for the British press. These arrange- 
 ments completed, he surveyed the room with a justifiable 
 complacency, and proceeded to notify to the coroner and 
 the jury. 
 
 Presently the jury began to assemble. They had been 
 already sworn, and they had proceeded to view the body. 
 This they had done timidly and respectfully, with all the 
 deference due to a body viewed in a house in Park Lane. 
 
I02 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 Led by the coroner, and escorted by a file of liveried 
 servants, they had entered the room with their hats off and 
 on tip-toe, treading as noiselessly as possible over the rich 
 carpets, leaving as little as possible of the dust off their 
 boots upon the costly hearthrug, speaking in low whispers, 
 and generally demeaning themselves with that regard for 
 propriety and the feelings of the inmates which became the 
 British juror when called upon to view a dead body in a 
 house in Park Lane, Then, having viewed it enough, they 
 were led by the coroner, followed by the servants, and thus, 
 silently but ostentatiously, conducted into the street. Then 
 the blinds of the room were drawn down, and the body was 
 left alone. 
 
 Alone, save for the buzzing flies which made their way 
 through every chink and cranny, and hovered and circled 
 round the ghastly face of the dead man, alighting now upon 
 his eyebrows, and now upon his chin, and now upon his 
 hand, and then flying off and then returning, as if they, 
 too, had been commissioned to hold a sort of coroner's 
 inquest and to view the body. Alone, save for the bright 
 streak of summer sun which found its way in through the 
 drawn Venetian blinds and closed shutters, and played now 
 upon the carpet and now upon the ceiling, and now, broken 
 and shadowed, formed a sort of mocking halo round the 
 dead man's head, and now fell slanting across his lips, and 
 lighted them as with the old, familiar, half-mocking smile. 
 Alone, save for the little bird, forgotten in his cage at the 
 window, which had ceased to sing when the room was first 
 darkened, believing that night had come, but had grown 
 suddenly brisk and musical as the sunlight penetrated, and 
 now hopped up and dov/n its cage from floor to perch and 
 chirped merrily, or thrust its little beak between the bars 
 of the cage, and, with head turned inquisitively on one side, 
 seemed to ask why its master slept so long and did not 
 awaken to greet it with a friendly whistle. Alone, save for 
 the one other friend, the little spaniel Fidelio, who, pushing 
 
UR SENS A TION NO VEL 1 03 
 
 the room door a little open with his nose, crept softly in, 
 and, vaguely appreciating something strange in the situa- 
 tion, stole with noiseless paws across the carpet, leaped 
 upon the bed, licked the white hand of the dead man, and, 
 coiling itself silently upon his feet, fell asleep there. 
 
 All through the day the rattle of the carriages in the 
 street and the hum in the park, mingled with many pleasant 
 voices of children, made their way into the grim, silent, 
 lonely chamber of death. Loud successions of knocks at 
 adjacent mansions, driving up of carriages, clattering down 
 of steps began later to denote that Park Lane was waking 
 up to its evening duties of dinner and assembly. The 
 postman beat his loud rat-tat at the door below and poured 
 in little piles of letters, many of them addressed to him who 
 lay so quiet in that darkened chamber, and cared nothing 
 now for all they could contain. The day began to fade 
 quite away, and the last ray of the sunlight, after dancing 
 a sort of fantastic farewell now on the floor, now on the 
 ceiling, and now on the white face, had vanished from the 
 chamber. Darkness set in. The faint evening stars could 
 send no beam or glimmer through those closed curtains 
 into that sombre room. Scarcely did the white face upon 
 the bed reveal itself through the dusk and gloom. Had a 
 human gazer been there he would have seen in the only 
 object which relieved the darkness something far more 
 appalling than the darkness itself. After a while the lighted 
 lamps of the -street began to send a flickering radiance into 
 the room. Strange shapes seemed to start from the walls 
 and floors, from the curtains and the tapestries. Every 
 chair, table, crevice, joint seemed to creak and groan as if 
 in agony. Hush ! "Was that a sigh or a sob which sounded 
 so dismally, or was it but the waving of the trees in the 
 park ? Hush ! 
 
 The spaniel started from his sleep and whined dolefully. 
 He crept up to his master's face and licked his cheek, and 
 in piteous whining seemed to beseech him to awaken. The 
 
104 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 bird stirred and rustled ; a watch on the table ticked and 
 ticked as if its beat had grown stronger and louder with 
 the coming on of night. Hour after hour passed. No one 
 came near that shunned and terrible room. The dead man 
 was left to the company of his bird and his dog all through 
 the ghastly twilight and the phantom-haunted night. 
 
 Meanwhile the coroner's jury had found a verdict of 
 * wilful murder ' against some person or persons unknown, 
 and all the newspapers were hard at work preparing for the 
 next morning's full account of the inquest and the Park 
 Lane Tragedy. 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 THE EPOPEE OF THE RED-BEICK HOUSE. 
 
 Again, again Pierre Valpierre fled. Nature had formed this 
 man to be a benefactor and a worker. Society had made 
 him a felon and an outcast. He had been a fugitive from 
 justice — ^justice ! — in Paris. He is now a fugitive from 
 justice in London. 
 
 He had fled from the scene in Park Lane of which he 
 had been a passive witness. He had fled, not merely from 
 justice, but from crime. He had fled from the guilty. 
 
 The mysterious protection which had once before with- 
 drawn him from the very fangs of the tiger law was again 
 tendered to him — nay, pressed upon him. 
 
 He had refused it. 
 
 Firmly, but not with anger and disdain. 
 
 The felon in his cell had unlearned the lessons of anger. 
 The outcast had been taught not to disdain. Society had 
 done its utmost to teach Pierre Valpierre how to hate. 
 Pierre Valpierre had only learned how to love. 
 
 But he would have no aid from the mysterious pro- 
 tectress, whose white hands bore the bloodstains, whose 
 white lips quivered with hate. 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 105 
 
 * You will not betray me ? ' said the eager woman. ' I 
 saved your life before.' 
 
 Valpierre smiled a sad but radiant smile. 
 ' Betray ! Valpierre betray ! Impossible.' 
 The woman of magic and of blood looked into his eyes 
 fixedly. 
 
 * I am safe,' she said. 
 
 She extended her hand. He did not refuse it. 
 ' Eepent,' he said. ' Oh, sister ! Penitence. Pardon. 
 Love.' 
 
 * Too late,' she said with a bitter smile. *A11 too 
 late.' 
 
 * Before the purpling dawn,' said Valpierre, ^ is the 
 darkest of the night. Leave the night and prepare for the 
 day.' 
 
 He pointed upwards. 
 
 ' Never ! ' she passionately exclaimed. ' Life here, life 
 here above all. I must live. I will live.' 
 
 He placed his hand upon her forehead and was gone. 
 
 He would not be the betrayer. He could not be the 
 accomplice. 
 
 Therefore he fled. 
 
 Fled through the dark and noisome centre of the great 
 Babel. He knew that he was followed. Flaming behind 
 him appeared through the darkness the tiger-eyes of 
 justice. 
 
 He buried himself in the sanctuary which is under the 
 protection and bears the name of St. Giles. Infinite vortex 
 of men and passions ! Wild whirlpool of surging crime ! 
 There the man becomes a wolf ; the woman a hyena ; the 
 child a lynx. 
 
 Through this jungle of human wild beasts Valpierre 
 fled, not knowing whither. Under every lamp, at every 
 street corner, he saw the placards which offered five hun- 
 dred pounds for his head. In every police constable he 
 saw a pursuing foe. 
 
io6 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 Stranger to England, he believed the English police- 
 man steeled by duty against the charms of love or gold. 
 
 He erred — but it matters not now. 
 
 Through a Daedalean labyrinth of streets and lanes he 
 found himself buried in a cul-de-sac. High walls, blank 
 and dead, upon the one side. Small squalid tenements, 
 ruined and apparently lifeless, on the other. In the neigh- 
 bourhood vast masses and clusters of houses had been 
 pulled down to make way for improvements, for the rail- 
 way and the telegraph. The wild race of man had been 
 driven back to shelter in the farthest recesses and hiding- 
 holes. In this lane lived or burrowed, on the one side, 
 countless families of outcasts. 
 
 But on the other side ? 
 
 Only a huge wall. 
 
 What behind it ? 
 
 This was what Valpierre did not know. 
 
 He prepared to retrace his steps. 
 
 But, with the caution of the fugitive, he looked before 
 he marched. 
 
 Lo ! at the mouth of the wijMsse, he saw three men 
 arrive, halt, and peer cautiously down. 
 
 They were his pursuers. 
 
 Eeturn was then impossible. 
 
 Scarcely two minutes to decide. They would instantly 
 search the lane — the houses. 
 
 Ha ! The right angle of the wall. 
 
 Valpierre had all the convict's arts of escape. Given 
 the right angle of any wall, smooth although as marble, 
 he could scale it. With hands, knees, shoulders, hips all 
 working together. 
 
 A moment, and he was on the top. Scratched, wounded, 
 but not out of breath. Noiselessly he descended on the 
 other side. 
 
 The wall was forty feet in height. 
 
 He lay on the wet earth inside. His ear was to the 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL T07 
 
 ground. He could hear the detectives outside. It was 
 a dark, foggy, autumnal night. 
 
 He heard them search house after house. He knew by 
 the talk and by the steps that one kept guard in the lane 
 while two searched through the squalid tenements. 
 
 At last, when more than two hours had passed away, 
 he knew that the hunt was given up. The game had stolen 
 away. 
 
 Had they climbed the wall they must have found him 
 inside. 
 
 But they did not climb the wall. Partly because they 
 could not, partly because they believed that no one else 
 could. 
 
 Even police justice is blind. 
 
 They departed. 
 
 But Valpierre did not move from the cold damp earth 
 w^iereon he had crouched like the beast hiding from the 
 hunter. He crouched there all through the long cold 
 night, and until xhe colder dawn broke grey and livid over 
 the shuddering earth. 
 
 Where was he ? . 
 
 A vast, damp, dreary garden. A garden only to be 
 seen in winter and in solitude. Black, mouldy, lugubrious, 
 sombre. A freezing regularity. A heart-chilling order. 
 Order like that of the detective and the prison. 
 
 Through the dark w^alks and soot -covered trees a large, 
 square, turreted, brick building. For me, too regular, 
 precise, drear, almost awful. 
 
 Valpierre could not doubt that through the night and 
 the morning he heard strange wild shrieks and occasional 
 snatches of unearthly song issuing from divers parts of the 
 mansion. 
 
 The outcast had studied life in all its forms — even in 
 its aberrations and grotesques. 
 
 He knew that he was in the grounds of a private lunatic 
 asylum. 
 
io8 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 The morning came on. How to escape ? 
 
 Hush ! Did he not hear steps ? He lay still and 
 breathless. He listened. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 The light but slow step of a woman. Valpierre w^as 
 glad. 
 
 Outcast of men, he ever put his faith in woman. 
 
 Woman sins, hates, falls, perishes, degrades her body, 
 sells her soul. 
 
 But she never betrays. That is reserved for man. 
 
 The story of Delilah was written by a man. 
 
 Valpierre left his hiding-place, and came fearlessly 
 forward. Fearlessly, but not rapidly. His limbs were 
 chilled and cramped from the damp earth and the mias- 
 matic night. 
 
 Towards him there came a female form. Pale, melan- 
 choly, languid, dressed in black. A young, beautiful, sad 
 woman. 
 
 A patient perhaps — a harmless lunatic. 
 
 Valpierre stood still. The lady advanced, her eyes 
 fixed upon the earth. She came near. 
 
 Valpierre had learned composure and self-control in a 
 school where lessons are taught with an iron rod. 
 
 But when he saw that face he started. Years had 
 passed away since aught had caused him to start before. 
 
 Yes, he started. For in that face and form he seemed 
 to see before him her whose bloodstained hand he had 
 pressed, from whose livid presence he had fled, so lately. 
 
 Milder, sweeter in aspect. Nay, all mildness, sweet- 
 ness, sadness. Younger looking, perhaps, but surely the 
 same. Yet no — not the same. 
 
 Where had he seen that face and form before ? 
 
 She raised her eyes and saw him. First a careless, 
 apathetic gaze, as if not unused to find her footsteps 
 watched. Then a keen and scrutinising glance. Then a 
 look of wild surprise and bewildered recognition. Then 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 109 
 
 a wild shriek would have startled the raw morning air, 
 but that Valpierre placed one hand upon her lips. 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said the outcast in a calm whisper. * If 
 there be mystery here, let us open the gates noiselessly.' 
 
 * I am not mad,' said the girl with a shudder. 
 
 * Look in my eyes,' said Valpierre. She met his gaze 
 calmly and clearly. 
 
 * You are sane,' said the convict, ' as I — aye, it may be 
 even far more so. Do you know me ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' she replied. Tears filled her eyes for the first 
 time. ' Once you saved my life. Oh, that you had left me 
 to be precipitated from that crag when the horses were 
 bearing me on ! ' 
 
 * You are,' he said, ' the English Miss — Miss Palegrave. 
 Only for a moment did my memory fail me. But I had 
 heard that either you or your mother was dead — and I saw 
 her not many hours ago.' 
 
 She would have fallen but he caught her in his 
 arms. 
 
 ' Oh, take me away from this ! ' she sobbed. ' Any- 
 w4iere, anywhere, away. I am the victim of the most 
 terrible plot. I and one other. Where is he ? Let us fly 
 to him quickly — quickly.' 
 
 Valpierre would have borne her to him. But he could 
 not get out, and even were he out he did not know of whom 
 ne spoke. 
 
 But she spoke no more, for she had fainted in his 
 arms. 
 
 He raised her tenderly and gently. He bore her 
 towards the right angle of the wall behind which he had 
 crouched. 
 
 He listened. 
 
 Outside all was silence. 
 
 Inside the trees moaned and whistled in the shrill 
 blast. Faint screams were heard from the red-brick house. 
 The morning was dawning clearer and clearer. She 
 
no OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 remained senseless. He did not strive to recall her to 
 consciousness. 
 
 ' It is time to act ! ' said Pierre Valpierre. ' Five 
 minutes more, and we are lost ! ' 
 
 They were not lost. 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 THE SEVEN LAMPS AND THE FIERY EXTINGUISHER. 
 
 Louis Faebeick's marriage day was approaching. It was 
 an autumn evening, wild and sad, and he sat alone. He 
 had had the society of Philip Latimer somewhat earlier ; 
 they had smoked and talked together, and neither was very 
 lively. ^Good-night, old fellow,' said Philip, on leaving, 
 * I wish I could see you looking a little more cheerful. I 
 ought to wear the willow and the brow of sadness, while 
 you had your temple crowned with something else — I quite 
 forget what — and looked all happiness and rapture, and 
 that sort of thing. But somehow, although I am not quite 
 jovial myself, yet I think I look a little less solemn than 
 you.' 
 
 Farbrick smiled and pressed his hand, and Philip's 
 cigar went blazing down the street. 
 
 Farbrick sat alone and reflected. What terrible change 
 had come over his life, his feelings, his whole being ! He 
 ought to have felt on the very summit of happiness, and 
 yet his soul Avas absorbed by mere despair. A weight was 
 upon his heart which he could not lift. 
 
 He sprang from his seat. ' What influence,' he ex- 
 claimed, ' is over me ? Am I possessed by a fiend ? Is 
 hell allowed to assume a sovereignty over humanity and to 
 torture us even on this earth ? Cursed be the day that 
 first submitted me to this horrible spell. My reason sinks 
 under it. Where is the Sorceress who once tormented me ? 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL in 
 
 Is she permitted to exercise her powers and arts even from 
 the grave itself? Appear and answer me, Lamia Montbe- 
 some, Noma Strange, LuciHa Palegrave ! Dead or hving, 
 come forth and show yom^self ! If any mystic bond ever 
 Hnked us together even for one terrible and hideous moment, 
 let my call have force to summon you now. Sorceress, 
 demon, appear ! ' 
 
 A cold, thrilling air rushed through the room, and 
 gleaming in the darkness were the faint outlines of the 
 luminous form. 
 
 * I appear,' spake the voice, ' because the power is gone 
 that lately held me in thrall. Louis Farbrick, you are 
 mine. No power on earth can rescue you. I hold you 
 through the potency of your affections.' 
 
 ' Eestore lier to me as she was,' passionately exclaimed 
 the tortured man. ' Give back her mind, her soul, her 
 love, her former self to my Lucilia, and I care not though 
 you were the very fiend of fable and took my soul at last.' 
 
 A faint hissing laugh was heard. 
 
 * I can do so,' said the voice. * The task is not so 
 difficult. Eeturn to her. She shall be inspired and guided 
 by me. Do all that she asks unquestioning, and she is 
 saved to enjoy youth, intellect, and happiness. Fail but 
 one moment, and she is lost for ever ! ' 
 
 The vision was gone. 
 
 Farbrick left a hasty message with his servant to say 
 that he had gone to Park Lane, and, mounting his horse, 
 galloped from the house. 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 She lay upon a sofa nearly lifeless. A mystic lamp, 
 burning with a deep purple hue, stood in the centre of the 
 floor. Seven smaller lamps, forming a circle, were ranged 
 around. Their flames were of crimson, green, blue, yellow, 
 white, mauve, and magenta fire. 
 
 *A moment more,' she faintly said, 'and I shall be 
 lifeless. You, and you alone, of all earth, can save and 
 
112 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 restore me at this crisis. Ask me nothing more. I fade. 
 I sink. Should one of yonder lamps expire, should the 
 perfumes from this vase fade for an instant from my 
 nostrils, should the dew from that phial dry on my lips, I 
 am lost to you for ever. Be bold and watchful and I 
 revive^»-and then, then ! ' — her voice grew weaker — * you 
 are mine, I yours, for ever ! ' 
 
 She was mute. She lay motionless. 
 
 Louis Farbrick watched over her. He would have 
 wrought any spells, yielded to any sorcery which promised 
 to redeem his life from its present condition, and to restore 
 her whom he loved as she was when first he loved her. 
 He, the savant, the materialist, the scorner, was forced to 
 become the dreamer, the miracle worker, the magician. 
 
 At another moment he could have smiled with bitter 
 scorn. Now his whole faculties were concentrated upon 
 the feeding of the lamps, the applying of the perfume to 
 the nostrils, the moistening of the lips with the liquor. 
 
 It was a task of terror. Even the strongest nerves 
 must have sometimes quivered. Backed as his fibres had 
 long been, he could no longer distinguish the real from the 
 unreal. When a lamp burned less brightly, a phantom, 
 formless and awful, seemed about to extinguish it, and 
 Farbrick sprang to replenish it. Mocking, hissing voices 
 appeared to fill the room. Eyes of fire glared upon the 
 physician from the central darkness. Cold dead hands 
 pressed his own burning fingers. Snaky folds seemed to 
 crawl around his brow. Hot demon kisses were slimed 
 upon his forehead. The air was now dense, poisonous, 
 stifling. He dared not open a window. Suddenly the heat 
 of the room sank out with a sigh, and the cold of the 
 Antarctic froze his marrow. Faces of vague and spectral 
 horror thrust themselves close up to his, glared with con- 
 torted lines upon him, and then vanished. Sometimes a 
 deep sigh thrilled through the room, and then a yelling 
 laugh. White, sylph-like forms, such as the Bosicrucian 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 113 
 
 dreamed of, floated above liim in blue, vaporous halo. 
 Then the room was suddenly, as with a breath, filled to 
 suffocation by countless fantastic and hideous shapes. 
 Then all was darkness and loneliness save for the lamps 
 on the floor and the white form on the couch. 
 
 Up ! the green lamp is fading. Quick, to replenish it. 
 Back, back ! ere the moisture of the mystic phial dries on 
 the lips. 
 
 Thus hours passed away. In all horror or agony Far- 
 brick never failed or faltered in his task. Enough that he 
 had been promised this should be the last. Any ordeal 
 would have been welcome which restored to him his own 
 being and the soul of his beloved ! 
 
 Hush ! That is surely an earthly voice ! A loud knock- 
 ing at the door ! Who dares to interrupt at such a moment ? 
 
 He trimmed the lamps, perfumed the nostrils, moistened 
 the lips, and made no answer. 
 
 Again, again, again a knocking. 
 
 ' Admit me,' said a deep, masculine voice. * I come to 
 see Dr. Farbrick — and I must see him.' 
 
 ' Away ! ' exclaimed the physician. * I see no one — no 
 one to-night. Begone until to-morrow ! ' 
 
 'I must see you,' said the voice outside. * You will 
 thank me for interrupting you.' 
 
 * Hence ! ' screamed Farbrick. ' Let no human being 
 dare to disturb me now ! ' 
 
 Heavens ! What tone was that ? 
 
 ' Louis, oh, my Louis ! ' wailed the voice of a woman 
 from without ; * it is I ; it is Lucilia ! ' 
 
 He started up, and was rushing to the door. His eye 
 fell on the lifeless form before him. 
 
 ' Louis, oh, my Louis ! ' again was heard from without. 
 
 The mauve lamp was waning. A moment, and the lips 
 would be dry. 
 
 * Madness and mockery ! ' he exclaimed. ' It is the voice 
 of some demon striving to lure me from my task. Away ! 
 
 I 
 
114 OUR SENSATION NOVEL 
 
 No power of hell or heaven shall distract me from this 
 which I have to do.' 
 
 A sob was heard outside, then a powerful hand shook 
 the door ; then, one desperate push from without, the 
 door was dashed open, and Pierre Valpierre stood on the 
 threshold, a female form clinging to him. 
 
 * It is he ! ' she screamed. ' It is my Louis,' and she 
 rushed with a cry of joy into the arms of the physician. 
 
 * Powers of heaven ! ' he exclaimed, ' w^hat miracle is 
 this ? ' 
 
 He pressed her to his heart. Yes, it was she — she 
 beyond all chance of doubt— his own, his own Lucilia. 
 
 As he sprang to meet her the green lamp, which he was 
 about to trim, was flung to the floor. The fierce, intense 
 flame licked up the carpet and the very boards. 
 
 One by one the lamps died out. Only that in the centre 
 still remained burning. 
 
 ' Light, light ! ' screamed Farbrick. * You are indeed 
 my own Lucilia ; but, oh, heavens ! what form is this ? ' 
 
 He lifted the central lamp and held it to the couch. 
 The perfume had exhaled ; the lips were dry and shrivelled ; 
 the seven lamps were out ; and there lay upon the couch 
 a haggard, withered, wasted, hideous corpse ! 
 
 They gazed in speechless horror. Not a word was 
 spoken for several moments. 
 
 What fierce light was that which illumined the room ? 
 
 *• We must save ourselves,' said Valpierre calmly ; ^ the 
 house is on fire.' 
 
 The falling of the green lamp had lighted up a con- 
 flagration. 
 
 Valpierre lifted up the girl as if she had been an infant 
 and sprang from the room, dragging the bewildered Far- 
 brick after him. As they leaped from the last stair the roof 
 and upper floorings fell in, and the flames streamed as from 
 the mouth of a furnace upward, upward to the skies ! In 
 vain the fire-engines, in vain the efforts of human power, 
 
OUR SENSATION NOVEL 115 
 
 in vain the floods of water poured upon the ruins. The fire 
 which the green lamp had lighted, whatever its mystic 
 source, no human agency could extinguish until it had 
 seized and devoured its prey. Where the Park Lane house 
 had stood in all its splendour, the grey of morning dawned 
 upon a roofless, windowless, shapeless, blackened ruin ! 
 The secret of the house had perished, like its inmate, for 
 ever. 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 THE FINALE. 
 
 What became of Louis Farbrick and his bride ? For that 
 Lucilia Palegrave, the real and the recovered, became his 
 bride, surely no rational being can doubt. 
 
 What became of Pierre Valpierre, the outcast ? 
 
 What became of Philip Latimer ? 
 
 Did Louis Farbrick retire to some distant land ? Did 
 Pierre Valpierre accompany the bride and bridegroom, and 
 have a seat at their chimney corner, and play with their 
 children until his death ? Did Lucilia turn out to be his 
 long-lost daughter ? Had he a long-lost daughter ? Did 
 Lucilia inherit all the vast possessions belonging to the late 
 Mrs. Palegrave, and which the late Count Foscoli had en- 
 deavoured to alienate ? I regret to say that upon these 
 points I can only conjecture. Judging from precedent, I 
 should say that Louis Farbrick and his bride lived long and 
 happily in some far country ; that Pierre Valpierre made 
 a remarkably sanctified end ; and that Philip Latimer 
 found somehow or other a will of the late Earl de Gauntlet, 
 Baron Fitzmace (his lordship, you will remember, died 
 rather suddenly after a pleasant little dinner party at 
 Greenwich, whereat Mesdemoiselles Fifine and Clotilde 
 formed part of the company), which will made him, the 
 said Philip Latimer, heir to immense wealth and various 
 town and country residences. 
 
116 OUR SENS A TION NO VEL 
 
 But the mystery of the story ? "Who was Lucilia Pale- 
 grave the elder ? What relationship did she bear to Lucilia 
 Palegrave the younger ? Was she in good truth a sorceress, 
 and had she been first Lamia Montbesome and then Noma 
 Strange ? Did she really renew her youth by inhaling in 
 some mystic way the vital powers of young maidens ? Or 
 was she only the descendant of the witch, the granddaughter 
 of Noma Strange, and herself a deluded believer in magic, 
 natural and unnatural, who expired at last in quite an 
 ordinary way, although at a somewhat peculiar moment, 
 and who suddenly turned old and shrivelled through lack 
 of the customary visitation of Madame Eachel ? 
 
 All these questions I do not pretend to answer. I have 
 told all I know ; and I fear that the deeper mystery must 
 be pronounced, in the remarkable words of a certain 
 illustrious nobleman, ' one of those things no fellow could 
 understand.' 
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 
 LONDON 
 
[January, i885« 
 
 A List of Books 
 
 PUBLISHED BT 
 
 CHATTO & WiNDUS, 
 
 214, PICCADILLY, LONDON, W. 
 
 Sold, by all Booksellers, or sent post-free for the published price by the Publishers: 
 
 About.— The Fellah : An Egyp- 
 tian Novel. By Edmond About. 
 Translated by Sir Randal Roberts. 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. ; cloth 
 limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Adams (W. Davenport), Works 
 
 by: 
 
 A Dictionary of the Drama. Being 
 a comprehensive Guide to the Plays, 
 Playwrights, Players, and Play- 
 houses of the United Kingdom and 
 America, from the Earliest to the 
 Present Times. Crown 8vo, half- 
 bound, 12s. 6(L [Preparing. 
 
 Latter-Day Lyrics. Edited by W. 
 Davenport Adams. Post 8yo, cloth 
 limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Quips and Quiddities. Selected by 
 VV. Davenport Adams. Post 8vo, 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Advertising, A History of, from 
 
 the Earliest Times. Illustrated by 
 Anecdotes, Curious Specimens, and 
 Notices of Successful Advertisers. By 
 Henry Sampson. Crown 8vo, witn 
 Coloured Frontispiece and Illustra- 
 tions, cloth gilt, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Agony Column (The) of ''The 
 
 Times," from iSco to 1870. Edited, 
 with an Introduction, by Alice Clay. 
 Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. Gd. 
 
 Aide (Hamilton), Works by: 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 Carr of Carrlyon. 
 Confidences. 
 
 Alexander (Mrs.), Novels by: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 23. each. 
 Maid, Wife, or Widow? 
 Valerie's Fate. ___^ 
 
 Allen (Grant), Works by: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. each. 
 
 The Evolutionist at Large> Second 
 Edition, revised. 
 
 Vignettes from Nature. 
 
 Colin Clout's Calendar. 
 
 strange Stories. With a Frontis- 
 piece b y George Du M aurier. 
 
 Phillstia: ANovel. Newand Cheaper 
 Edit. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Babylon : A Novel. li Illusts. by P. 
 M ACNAB. New and Cheaper Edition. 
 Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., 3s. 6d. f^In the press. 
 
 For IVIaimie's Sake: A Tale of Lovo 
 and Dynamite. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 extra, 6s. [Feb^ i. 
 
 Architectural Styles, A Hand- 
 book of. Translated from the German 
 
 of A. ROSENGARTEN, by W. CoLLETT- 
 
 Sandars. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, witti 
 639 Illustrations, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Artemus Ward : 
 
 Artemus Ward's Works: The Wcrks 
 of Charles Farrer Browne, better 
 known as Artemus Ward. With 
 Portrait and Facsimile. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Artemus Ward's Lecture on the 
 Mormons. With 32 Illustrations, 
 Edited, with Preface, by Edward P, 
 Kingston. Crown 8vo, 6d. 
 
 The Genial Showman: Life and Ad- 
 ventures of Artemus Ward. By 
 Edward P. Hikgstow. With a 
 Frontispiece. Cr. 8y0| ci. extra, 8s. 6d^ 
 
BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Ant (The) of Amusing: A Col- 
 lection of Graceful Arts, G ames, Tricks, 
 Puzzles, and Charades. By Frank 
 Bellew. With 300 Illustrations. Cr. 
 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. 
 
 Ashton (John), Works by: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 A History of the Chap-Books of the 
 Eighteenth Century. With nearly 
 400 Illustrations, engraved in fac- 
 simile of the originals. 
 
 Social Life In the Reign of Queen 
 Anne. From Original Sources. With 
 nearly 100 Illustrations. 
 
 Humour, Wit, and Satire of the 
 Seventeenth Century. Withnearly 
 100 Illustrations. 
 
 English Caricature and Satire on 
 Napoleon the First. With 120 Il- 
 lustrations from Originals. Two 
 Vols., demy 8vo, cloth extra, 28s. 
 
 Bacteria. — A Synopsis of the 
 
 Bacteria and Yeast Fungi and Allied 
 Species. By W. B. Grove, B. A. With 
 87 lUusts. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Balzac's " Comedie Humaine " 
 
 and its Author. With Translations by 
 H. H. V/alker. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 
 2s. 6d. 
 
 Bankers, A Handbook of Lon- 
 don; together with Lists of Bankers 
 from 1677. By F. G. Hilton Price. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Ba.rdsley (Rev. C.W.),Works by : 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 English Surnames: Their Sources and 
 Significations. Third Ed., revised. 
 
 Curiosities of Puritan Nomencla- 
 ture. 
 
 Bartholomew Fair, Memoirs 
 
 of. By Henry Morley. With 100 
 Illusts. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Basil, Novels by : 
 
 Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 A Drawn Game. 
 
 "The Wearing of the Green." 
 
 Beaconsfield, Lord: A Biogra- 
 phy. By T. P. O'Connor, M.P. Sixth 
 Edition, with a New Preface. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Beauchamp. — Grantley 
 
 Grange: A Novel. By Shelsley 
 Bbauchamp, Post 8yo, illust, bds., 2s. 
 
 Beautiful Pictures by British 
 
 Artists : A Gathering of Favourites 
 from our Picture Gallerie-3. In Two 
 Series. All engraved on Steel in the 
 highest style of Art. Edited, with 
 Notices of the Artists, by Sydney 
 Armytags, IvI.A. Imperial 4to, cloth 
 extra, gilt and gilt edges, 2iS. per Vol. 
 
 Bechstein. — As Pretty as 
 
 Seven, and other German Stories. 
 Collected by Ludwig Bechstein. 
 With Additional Tales by the Brothers 
 Grimm, and 100 Illusts. by Richter. 
 Small 4to, green and gold, 6s. 6d. ; 
 fi;i lt edges, 73. 6d. 
 
 Beerbohm. — Wanderings in 
 
 Patagonia ; or. Life among the Ostrich 
 Hunters. By Julius Beerbohm. With 
 Illusts. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Belgravia for 1886. — One 
 
 Shilling Monthly, Illustrated by P. 
 Magnab. — The first Chapters of Mo- 
 hawks, a New Novel by M. E. 
 Braddon, Author of " Lady Audley's 
 Secret," appear in the January Num- 
 ber, and the Story will be continued 
 throughout the year. This Number 
 contains also the Opening Chapters of 
 a New Novel entitled That other 
 Person ; and several of those short 
 stories for which Belgravia is so 
 famous. 
 
 * -x- 
 
 Now ready, the Vohime for July to 
 October, 1885, cloth extra, gilt edges, 
 7s. 6d. ; Cases f or binding Vols., 23. each. 
 
 Belgravia Annua! for Christ- 
 mas, 1885. With Stories by F. W. 
 Robinson, Mrs. Lynn Linton, Grant 
 Allen, 'Basil,' B, Montgomerie 
 Ranking, and others. Demy 8vo, with 
 Illustrations, I s. 
 
 Bennett (W.C.,LL.D.),Works by: 
 
 Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. each. 
 
 A Ballad History of England. 
 Songs for Sailors. 
 
 Besant~(WaIte7») and James 
 
 Rice, Novels by. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 extra, 3s. 6d. each ; post 8vo, illust. 
 boards 2s. each ; cloth lin>x>, 2s. 6d, 
 each. 
 
 Ready-Tvloney Mortlboy. 
 
 With Harp and Crown. 
 
 This Son of Vulcan. 
 
 My Little Girl. 
 
 The Case of Mr. Lucraft. 
 
 The Golden Butterfly. 
 
 By Gel la's Arbour. 
 
 The Monks of Theiema. 
 
 'Twas In Trafalgar's Bay. 
 
 The Seamy Side. 
 
 The Ten Years' Tenant. 
 
 Th© Chaplain pf the Fleet 
 
CliATtO ^ WINDUS, PICCADILLY, 
 
 Besant (Walter), Novels by: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6(i. each ; 
 post 8vo, illust. boards, 2s. each; 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 Al! Sorts and Conditions of Men: 
 
 An Impossible Story. With Illustra- 
 tions by Fred. Barnard. 
 
 The Captains' Room, &c. With 
 Frontispiece by E. J. Wheeler. 
 
 AM in a Garden Fair. With 6 Illusts. 
 by H. FuRNiss. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. each. 
 Dorothy Forster. With Frontispiece 
 
 by Charles Green. 
 Uncle Jack, and other Stories. 
 
 The Art of Fiction. Demy 8vo, Is, 
 
 ^ ' <mm ■ ■ ■ I — ■. I . ■ ■ I ■ I -... .1. ..,■-- ■ ,. — 
 
 Bet ham -Ed wards (M.), Novels 
 
 by. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 each. ; post 8vo, iliust. bds., 2s. each. 
 Felicia. | Kitty. 
 
 Bewick (Thos.)and his Pupils. 
 
 By Austin DoBSON. With 95 Illustra- 
 tions. Square 8vo, cloth extra, 10s. 6d. 
 
 Birthday Bool<s. — 
 
 The Starry Heavens: A Poetical 
 Birthday Book. Square 8vo, hand- 
 somely bound in cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Birthday Flowers: Their Language 
 and Legends. By W. J. Gordon. 
 Beautifully Illustrated in Colours by 
 Viola Boughton. In illuminated 
 cover, crown 4to, 6s. 
 
 The Lowell Birthday Book. With 
 Illusts. Small 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. 
 
 Blackburn's (Henry) Art Hand- 
 books, Demy 8vo, Illustrated, uni- 
 form in size for binding. 
 
 Academy Notes, separate years, from 
 1875 to 1884, each Is. 
 
 Academy Notes, 1885. With 142 
 Illustrations. Is. 
 
 Academy Notes, 1875-79. Complete 
 in One Vol., with nearly 600 Illusts. in 
 Facsimile. Demy Svo, cloth limp, 6s. 
 
 Academy Notes, 1880-84. Complete 
 in One Volume, with about 700 Fac- 
 simile Illustrations. Cloth limp, 63. 
 
 Grosvenor Notes, 1877. 6d. 
 
 Grosvenor Notes, separate years, from 
 1878 to 1884, each Is. 
 
 Grosvenor Notes, 1885. With 75 
 Illustrations. Is. 
 
 Grosvenor Notes, 1877-82. With 
 
 upwards of 300 Illustrations, Demy 
 8vo, cloth limp, 6s. 
 
 pictures at South Kensington. With 
 
 70 Illusts. Is. I'New Edit. i>rei>anns» 
 
 Art Handbooks, continued — 
 
 TheEngllsh Picturesatthe National 
 Gallery. 114 Illustrations. Is. 
 
 The Old Masters at the National 
 Gallery. 128 Illustrations. Is. 6d. 
 
 A Complete Illustrated Catalogue 
 to the National Gallery. With 
 Notes by H. Blackburn, and 243 
 Illusts. Demy Svo, cloth limp, 3s. 
 
 Illustrated Catalogue of the Luxem- 
 bourg Gallery. Containing about 
 250 Reproductions after the Original 
 Drawings of the Artists. Edited by 
 F. G. Dumas. Demy 8vo, 3s. 6d. 
 
 The Paris Salon, 1884. With over 300 
 Illusts. Edited by F, G. Dumas. 
 Demy 8vo, 3s. 
 
 The Paris Salon, 1885. With about 
 300 Facsimile Sketches. Edited by 
 F. G. Dumas. Demy Svo, 3s. 
 
 The Art Annual, 1883-4. Edited by 
 F. G. Dumas. With 300 full-page 
 Illustrations. Demy 8vo, 6s. 
 
 Blake (William) : Etchings from 
 
 his Works. By W. B. Scott. With 
 descriptive Text. Folio, half-bound 
 boards, India Proofs, 21s. 
 
 BoGcaccio's Decameron ; or, 
 
 Ten Days' Entertainment. Translated 
 into English, with an Introduction by 
 Thomas Wright, F.S.A. With Portrait, 
 and Stothard's beautiful Copper- 
 plates. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, gilt, 7s. 6d. 
 
 BoweP8'(G.) Hunting Sketches: 
 
 Oblong 4to, half-bound boards, 21s. each. 
 Canters In Crampshire. 
 Leaves from a Hunting Journal. 
 
 Coloured in facsimile of the originals. 
 
 Boyle (Frederick), Works by : 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.6d. each; post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 Camp Notes: Stories of Sport and 
 Adventure in Asia, Africa, and 
 America. 
 Savage Life : Adventures of a Globe- 
 Trotter, 
 
 Chronicles of No-Man's Land. 
 
 Post Svo, illust. boards, 2s. 
 
 Braddon (M! E.)— Mohawks^ 
 
 a Novel, by Miss Braddon, Author 
 of *' Lady Audley's Secret," is begun 
 in Belgravia for January, and v^ill be 
 continued throughout the year. Illus- 
 trated by P. Macnab. Is. Monthly. 
 
 Brand's Observations on Pop- 
 ular Antiquities, chiefly Illustrating 
 the Origin of our Vulgar Customs, 
 Ceremonies, and Superstitions, With 
 the Additions of Sir Henry Ellis. 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, gilt, ^(th 
 numerous Illustrations, 7s. 6d« 
 
4 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Bret Hari:e, Works by : 
 
 Bret Harte's Collected Works. Ar- 
 ranged and Revised by the Author. 
 Complete in Five Vols., crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 6s. each. 
 
 Vol. I. Complete Poetical and 
 Dramatic Works. With Steel Por- 
 trait, and Introduction by Author. 
 
 Vol. II. Earlier Papers — Luck of 
 Roaring Camp, and other Sketches 
 —Bohemian Papers — Spanish 
 and American Legends. 
 
 Vol. III. Tales of the Argonauts 
 —Eastern Sketches. 
 
 Vol. IV. Gabriel Conrot. 
 
 Vol. V. Stories — Con»ensed 
 Novels, &c. 
 
 The Select Works of Bret Harte, in 
 
 Prose and Poetry. With Introduc- 
 tory Essay by J. M. Bellew, Portrait 
 of the Author, and 50 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Gabriel Conroy : A Novel. Post 8vo, 
 illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 An Heiress of Red Dog, and other 
 Stories. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 
 29. 
 
 The Twins of Table Mountain. Fcap. 
 Svo, picture cover. Is. 
 
 Luck of Roaring Camp, and other 
 Sketches. Post 8vo, illust. bds., 28. 
 
 Jeff Briggs's Love Story. Fcap. 8vo, 
 picture cover. Is. 
 
 Flip. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. ; 
 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 Callfornlan Stories (including The 
 
 Twins of Table Mountain, Jeff 
 
 Briggs's Love Story, &c.) Post 
 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Maruja: A Novel. Post Svo, illust. 
 boards, 2s. ; cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Brewer (Rev. Dr.), Works by ; 
 
 The Reader's Handbookof Allusions, 
 References, Plots^ and Stories. 
 
 Fifth Edition, revised throughout, 
 with a New Appendix, containing a 
 Complete English Bibliography. 
 Cr. 8to, 1,400 pp., cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Authors and their Works, with the 
 Dates : Being the Appendices to 
 "The Reader's Handbook," separ- 
 ately printed. Cr. Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 
 
 A Dictionary of Miracles: Imitative, 
 Realistic, and Dogmatic. Crown Svo, 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. ; half-bound, 9s. 
 
 Bpewstep(SlpDavid),Wopks by: 
 
 More Worlds than One: The Creed 
 of the Philosopher and the Hope of 
 the Christian. With Plates. Post 
 8to, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. 
 
 Brewster (Sir David), continued — 
 
 The Martyr© of Science: Lives of 
 Galileo, Tycho Brake, and Kep- 
 ler. With Portraits. Post Svo, cloth 
 extra, 4s. 6d. 
 
 Letters on Natural Magic. A New 
 
 Edition, with numerous Illustrations, 
 and Chapters on the Bein^ and 
 Faculties of Man, and Additional 
 Phenomena of Natural Magic, by 
 J. A. Smith. Post Svo, cl. ex., 4s. 6d . 
 
 Bpiggs, Memoip of Gen. John. 
 
 By Major Evans Bell. With a Por- 
 trait. Royal Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Bpillat-Savapln.— Gastponomy 
 
 as a Fine Art. By Brillat-Savarin. 
 Translated by R. E. Anderson, M.A, 
 Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 8d. 
 
 Buchanan's (Robept) Wopks : 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. each. 
 
 Ballads of Life, Love, and Humour. 
 
 Frontispiece by Arthur Hughes. 
 
 Undertones. 
 
 London Poems. 
 
 The Book of Orm. 
 
 White Rose and Red: A Love Story. 
 
 Idylls and Legends of Inverburn. 
 
 Selected Poems of Robert Buchanan. 
 With a Frontispiece by T. Dalziel. 
 
 The Hebrld Isles: Wanderings in the 
 Land of Lome and the Outer He- 
 brides. With Frontispiece by Wil- 
 liam Small. 
 
 A Poet's Sketch-Book: Selections 
 from the Prose Writings of Robert 
 Buchanan. 
 
 The Earthquake: or, Six Days and 
 a Sabbath. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 St. Abe and his Seven Wives : A Tale 
 of Salt Lake City. With a Frontis- 
 piece by A. B. Houghton. Crown 
 Svo, cloth extra, 68. 
 
 Robert Buchanan'sComplete Poeti- 
 cal Works. With Steel-plate Por- 
 trait. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post Svo, illust. boards, 2s. each. 
 
 The Shadow of the Sword. 
 
 A Child of Nature. With a Frontis- 
 piece. 
 
 God and the Man. With Illustrations 
 by Fred. Barnard. 
 
 The Martyrdom of Madeline. With 
 Frontispiece by A. W. Cooper. 
 
 Love Me for Ever. With a Frontis- 
 piece by P. Macnab. 
 
 Annan Water. 
 
 The New Abeiard. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 Foxglove Manor. 
 
 Matt : A Story of a Caravan. 
 
 The Master of the Mlne.lPreparing» 
 
CHATTO S* WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 
 
 5 
 
 Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 Edited by Rev. T. Scott. With 17 
 Steel Plates by Stothard, engraved 
 by GooDALL, and numerous Woodcuts. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Burnett (IVIrs.), Novels by: 
 
 Surly Tim, and other Stories. Post 
 8vQ, illustrated boards, 23. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, Is. each, 
 Kathleen Mavourneen. 
 Lindsay's Luck. 
 Pretty Polly Pembepton. 
 
 Burton (Captain), Works by: 
 
 To the Gold Coast fop Gold : A Per- 
 sonal Narrative. By Richard F. Bur- 
 ton and Verney Lovett Cameron. 
 With Maps and Frontispiece. Two 
 Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, 21s. 
 
 The Book of the Sword: Being a 
 History of the Sword and its Use in 
 aU Countries, from the Earliest 
 Times. By Richard F. Burton. 
 With over 400 Illustrations. Square 
 8vo, cloth extra, 32s. 
 
 Burton (Robert): 
 The Anatomy of Melancholy. A 
 
 New Edition, complete, corrected 
 and enriched by Translations of the 
 Classical Extracts. Demy Svo, cloth 
 extra, 7s. 6(i. 
 
 Melancholy Anatomised: Being an 
 Abridgment, for popular use, of Bur- 
 ton's Anatomy of Melancholy. 
 Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Byron (Lord) : 
 
 Byron's Childe Harold. An entirely 
 New Edition of this famous Poem, 
 with over One Hundred new Illusts. 
 by leading Artists. (Uniform with 
 the Illustrated Editions of "The 
 Lady of the Lake " and " Marmion.") 
 Elegantly and appropriately bound, 
 small 4to, 16s. 
 
 Byron's Letters and Journals. With 
 Notices of his Life. By Thomas 
 Moore. A Reprint of the Original 
 Edition, newly revised, with Twelve 
 full- page Plates. Crown Svo, cloth 
 extra, gilt, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Byron's Don Juan. Complete in One 
 Vol., post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 
 
 Cameron (Commander) and 
 Captain Burton. — To the Gold Coast 
 for Gold : A Personal Narrative. By 
 Richard F. Burton and Verney 
 Lovett Cameron. Frontispiece and 
 Maps. Two Vols., cr. Svo, cl. ex., 21g. 
 
 Calne. — The Shadow of a 
 
 Crime: A Novel. By Hall Caine. 
 Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Cameron (Mrs. H. Lovett), 
 
 Novels by: 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Juliet's Guardian. | Deceivers Evep. 
 Carlyle (Thomas) : 
 
 On the Choice of Books. By Thomas 
 Carlyle. With a Life of the Author 
 by R. H. Shepherd. New and Re- 
 vised Edition, post Svo, cloth extra, 
 Illustrated, Is. 6d. 
 
 The Correspondence of Thomas 
 Carlyleand Ralph Waldo Emerson, 
 
 1834 to 1872. Edited by Charles 
 Eliot Norton. With Portraits. Two 
 Vols., crown Svo, cloth extra, 24s, 
 
 Chapman's (George) Works: 
 
 Vol. L contains the Plays complete, 
 including the doubtful ones. Vol, H., 
 the Poems and Minor Translations, 
 with an Introductory Essay by Alger- 
 non Charles Swinburne. Vol. III., 
 the Translations of the Iliad and Odys- 
 sey. Three Vols., crown Svo, cloth 
 extra, 18s. ; or separately, 6s. each. 
 
 Chatto& Jackson. — ATreatise 
 
 on Wood Engraving, Historical and 
 Practical. By V/m. Andrew Chatto 
 and John Jackson. With an Addi- 
 tional Chapter by Henry G. Bohn ; 
 and 450 fine Illustrations. A Reprint 
 of the last Revised Edition, Large 
 4to, half-bound, 28s. 
 
 Chaucer : 
 
 Chaucer for Children : A Golden 
 
 Key. By Mrs. H. R. Haweis. With 
 Eight Coloured Pictures and nu- 
 merous Woodcuts by the Author. 
 New Ed., small 4to, cloth extra, 6s. 
 Chaucer for Schools. By Mrs. H. R. 
 Haweis. Demy Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 City (The) of Dream : A Poem. 
 Fcap. Svo, cloth extra, 6s. [J» the press, 
 
 Clodd. — Myths and Dreams. 
 
 By Edward Clodd, F.R.A.S., Author 
 of " The Childhood of Religions," &c. 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Cobban. — The Cure of Souls : 
 
 A Story. By J. Maclaren Cobban. 
 Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Coleman.— Curly : An Actor's 
 Story. By John Coleman. Illustrated 
 by J. C. DoLLMAN. Crown Svo, Is. 
 cloth, Is. 6d. 
 
6 
 
 BOOKS pubusmed Br 
 
 Collins (Mortimer), Novels by : 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each, 
 
 Sweet Anne Page. 
 
 Transmigration. 
 
 From IVlidnight to MIdn!ght. 
 
 A Fight with Fortune. Post 8vo, 
 
 illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Collins (Mortimer 8c Frances), 
 
 Novels by: 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Blacksmith and Scholar. 
 
 The Village Comedy. 
 
 You Play IVIe False. 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 23. each. 
 
 Sweet and Twenty. 
 
 Frances. 
 
 Collins (Wilkie), Novels by : 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Illustrated, 
 3s.6d. each ; post8vo,illustrated bds,, 
 2s. each ; cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 Antonlna. lilust. by SirJoHNGiLBERT. 
 
 Basil. Illustrated by Sir John Gil- 
 bert and J. Mahoney. 
 
 Hide and Seek. Illustrated by Sir 
 John Gilbert and J. Mahoney. 
 
 The Dead Secret. Illustrated by Sir 
 John Gilbert. 
 
 Queen of Hearts. Illustrated by Sir 
 John Gilbert. 
 
 My Miscellanies. With a Steel-plate 
 Portrait of Wilkie Collins. 
 
 The Woman In White. With Illus- 
 trations by Sir John Gilbert and 
 
 F. A. Fraser. 
 
 The Moonstone. With Illustrations 
 
 by G. Du MAURiERand F. A. Fraser. 
 
 Man and Wife. Illust. by W. Small. 
 
 Poor Miss Finch. Illustrated by 
 
 G. Du Maurier and Edward 
 Hughes. 
 
 Miss or Mrs. P With Illustrations by 
 
 S. L. FiLDEs and Henry Woods. 
 , The Nev/ Magdalen. Illustrated by 
 
 G.Du Maurier and C.S.Reinhardt. 
 The Frozen Deep. Illustrated by 
 
 G. Du Maurier and J. Mahoney. 
 The Law and the Lady. Illustrated 
 
 by S. L. FiLDES and Sydney Hall. 
 The Two Destinies. 
 The Haunted Hotel. Illustrated by 
 
 Arthur Hopkins. 
 The Fallen Leaves. 
 Jezebel's Daughter. 
 The Black Robe. 
 Heart and Science: A Story of the 
 
 Present Time. 
 
 •' I Say No." Crovfn 8vo, cloth extra, 
 8s. 60. 
 
 Coliins (C. Allston).— The Ban 
 
 Sinister: A Story. By C. Allston 
 Collins. PostSvo, illustrated bds.,2s. 
 
 Colman's Humorous Works: 
 
 " Broad Grins," " My Nightgown and 
 Slippers," and other Humorous Works, 
 Prose and Poetical, of George Col- 
 man. With Life by G. B. Buckstone, 
 and Frontispiece by Hogarth. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Convalescent Cookery: A 
 
 Family Handbook. By Catherine 
 Ryan. Crown 8vo, Is. ; cloth, Is. 6d. 
 
 Conway (Moncure D.), Worlds 
 
 by : 
 
 Demonology and Devil-Lore. Two 
 
 Vols., royal 8vo, with 65 lUusts., 283= 
 
 A Necklace of Stories. Illustrated 
 by W. J. Hennessy. Square 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Cook (Dutton), Works by: 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. each. 
 
 Hours with the Players. With a 
 Steel Plate Frontispiece. 
 
 Nights at the Play : A View of the 
 English Stage. 
 
 Leo: A Novel. Post 8vo, illustrated 
 boards, 2s. 
 
 Paul Foster's Daughter, crown Svo, 
 cloth extra, Ss. 6d. ; post 8vo, illus- 
 trated boards, 2s. 
 
 Copyrigiit. — A Handbook of 
 
 English and Foreign Copyright in 
 Literary and Dramatic Works. By 
 
 Sidney Jerrold, of the Middle 
 Temple, Esq., Barrister-at-Law. Post 
 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Cornwall. — Popular Romances 
 
 of the West of England; or, The 
 
 Drolls, Traditions, and Superstitions 
 of Old Cornwall. Collected and Edited 
 by Robert Hunt, F.R.S. New and 
 Revised Edition, with Additions, and 
 Two Steel-plate Illustrations by 
 George Cruikshank. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Craddock. — The Prophet of 
 
 the Great Smoky Mountains. By 
 
 Charles Egbert Craddock. Post 
 Svo, illust. bds., 2g. ; cloth limp, 2g.8d. 
 
 Creasy. — Memoirs of Eminent 
 
 Etonians : with Notices of the Early 
 History of Eton College. By Sir 
 Edward Creasy, Author of " The 
 Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World." 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with 13 
 Portraits, 7s, 6d. 
 
CHATTO S> WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 
 
 Cr»ulksliank (George): 
 
 The Comic Almanack. Complete in 
 Two Series : The First from 1835 
 to 1843 ; the Second from 1844 to 
 1853, A Gathering of the Best 
 Humour of Thackeray, Hood, May- 
 hew, Albert Smith, A'Beckett, 
 Robert Brough, &c. With 2,000 
 Woodcuts and Steel Engravings by 
 Cruikshank, Hine, Landells, &c. 
 Crown Svo, cloth gilt, two very thick 
 volumes, 7s. 6cl. each. 
 
 The Life of George Cruikshank. By 
 
 Blanchard Jerrold, Author of 
 "The Life of Napoleon HI.," &c. 
 With 84 Illustrations. New and 
 Cheaper Edition, enlarged, with Ad- 
 ditional Plates, and a very carefully 
 compiled Bibliography. Crown Svo, 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe. A beautiful re- 
 production of Major's Edition, with 
 37 Woodcuts and Two Steel Plates 
 by George Cruikshank, choicely 
 printed. Crown 8vo, cloth eztra, 
 73. 6d. 
 
 Cummlng(C. F. Gordan),Work8 
 
 by: 
 
 Demy Svo, cloth extra, 8s. 6d. each. 
 
 In the Hebrides. With Autotype Fac- 
 simile and numerous full-page Illus- 
 trations. 
 
 !n the HimaSayas and on the Indian 
 Plains. With numerous Illustra- 
 tions. 
 
 Via Cornwall to Egypt. With a 
 Photogravure Frontispiece. Demy 
 8vo, cloth extra, 73. 6d. 
 
 Cussans.— Handbook of Her- 
 aldry; with Instructions for Tracing 
 Pedigrees and Deciphering Ancient 
 MSS., &c. By John E. Cussans. 
 Entirely New and Revised Edition, 
 illustrated with over 400 Woodcuts 
 and Coloured Plates. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 73. 6d. 
 
 Cyples. — Hearts of Gold : A 
 
 Novel. By William Cyples. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post 8vo, 
 illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Daniel. — Merrie England in 
 
 the Olden Time. By Georgk Daniel. 
 With Illustrations by Robt. Cruik- 
 shank. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Daudet. — Port Salvation ; or, 
 
 The Evangelist. By Alphonse 
 Daudet. Translated by C. Harry 
 Meltzer. With Portrait of the 
 Author. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 83. 6d. * i70st 8vQi illust. boards. 2s. 
 
 — What shall my 
 
 Son be P Hints for Parents on the 
 Choice of a Profession or Trade for 
 their Sons. By Francis Davenant^ 
 M.A. Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Davies (Dr. N. E.), V\/orks by: 
 
 Crown Svo, Is. each ; cloth limp, 
 Is. 6d. each. 
 One Thousand Medical Maxims. 
 Mursery Hints: A Mother's Guide. 
 
 Aids to Long Life. Crown Svo, 23. ; 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Davies' (Sir John) Complete 
 
 Poetical Works, including Psalms I. 
 to L. in Verse, and other hitherto Un- 
 published MSS., for the first time 
 Collected and Edited, with Memorial- 
 Introduction and Notes, by the Rev. 
 A. B. Grosart, D.D. Two Vols., 
 crown Svo, cloth boards, 12s. 
 
 De Maistre. — A Journey Round 
 
 IVly Room. By Xavier de Maistre, 
 Translated by Henry Attwell. Post 
 Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 De Mille. — A Castle in Spain: 
 
 A Novel. By James De Mille. With 
 a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 extra, 3s. 6d. ; post Svo, illust. bds., 2s. 
 
 Derwent (Leith), Novels by: 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s, 6d. each; post 
 Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Our Lady of Tears, 
 
 Circe's Lovers. 
 
 Dickens (Charles), Novels by: 
 
 Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Sketches by Boz. 
 Pickwick Papers. 
 
 NlcholasNIckleby. 
 Oliver Twist. 
 
 The Speeches of Charles Dickens 
 
 1841-1870. With a New Bibliography, 
 revised and enlarged. Edited and 
 Prefaced by Richard He^ne Shep- 
 herd. Crown Svo, cloth e^ra, 6s. — ■ 
 Also a Smaller Edition, in the 
 May fair Library, Post Svo, cloth 
 limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 About England with Dickens. By 
 
 Alfred Rimmer. With 57 Illustra- 
 tions by C. A. Vanderhoof, Alfred 
 Rimmer, and others, Sq. Svo, cloth 
 extra, IPs. 6d. 
 
 Dictionaries; 
 
 A Dictionary of Miracles: Imitative, 
 
 Realistic, and Dogmatic. By the 
 
 Rev. E. C. Brewer, LL.D. Crown 
 
 ivo» cloth estra, ?s. 6d,j hf.-bound, 8i. 
 
8 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Dictionaries, continued — 
 
 The Reader's Handbook of Allu- 
 sions, References, Plots, and 
 Stories. By the Rev. E. C. Brewer, 
 LL.D. Fourth Edition, revised 
 throughout, with a New Appendix, 
 containing a Complete English Bib- 
 liography. Crown 8vo, 1,400 pages, 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Familiar Allusions: A Handbook 
 of Miscellaneous Information ; in- 
 cluding the Names of Celebrated 
 Statues, Paintings, Palaces, Country 
 Seats, Ruins, Churches, Ships, 
 Streets, Clubs, Natural Curiosities, 
 and the like. By Wm. A; Wheeler 
 and Charles G. Wheeler. Demy 
 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Authors and their Works, with the 
 Dates. Being the Appendices to 
 "The Reader's Handbook," sepa- 
 rately printed. By the Rev. Dr. 
 Brewer. Crown 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 
 
 Short Sayings of Great Men. With 
 Historical and Explanatory Notes. 
 By Samuel A. Bent, M.A. Demy 
 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 A Dictionary of the Drama: 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 W. Davenport Adams. 
 A thick volume, crown 8vo, half- 
 bound, 12s. 6d. [In preparation. 
 
 The Slang Dictionary: Etymological, 
 Historical, and Anecdotal. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 6d. 
 
 Women of the Day: A Biographical 
 Dictionary. By Frances Hays. Cr. 
 8vo, cloth extra, 5s. 
 
 Words, Facts, and Phrases; A Dic- 
 tionary of Curious, Quaint, and Out- 
 of-the-Way Matters, By Eliezer 
 Edwards. New and Cheaper Issue, 
 Cr. 8vo, c l. ex., 7s. 6d. ; hf.-bd., 9 s. 
 
 Diderot. — The Paradox of Act- 
 ing. Translated, with Annotations, 
 from Diderot's " Le Paradoxe sur le 
 Comedien," by Walter Herries 
 Pollock. With a Preface by Henry 
 Irving. Cr. 8vo, in parchment, 4s. 6d. 
 
 Dobson (W. T.), Works by : 
 
 Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies, 
 and Frolics. 
 
 Poetical Ingenuities and Eccentri- 
 cities. 
 
 Doran. — Memories of our 
 
 Great Towns ; with Anecdotic Glean- 
 ings concerning their Worthies and 
 their Oddities. By Dr. John Doran, 
 F.S.A. With 38 Illustrations. New 
 and Cheaper Ed., cr. 8vo, cl. ex., 7s. 6d. 
 
 Drama, A Dictionary of the. 
 
 Being a comprehensive Guide to the 
 Plays, Playwrights, Players, and Play- 
 houses of the United Kingdom and 
 America, from the Earliest to the Pre- 
 sent Times. By W. Davenport 
 Adams. (Uniform with Brewer's 
 " Reader's Handbook.") Crown 8vo, 
 half-bound, 12s. 6d. [In preparation. 
 
 Dramatists, The Old. Cr. 8vo, 
 cl. ex., Vignette Portraits, 6s. per Vol. 
 
 Ben Jonson's Works. With Notes 
 Critical and Explanatory, and a Bio- 
 graphical Memoir by Wm, Gifford. 
 Edit, by Col. Cunningham. 3 Vols. 
 
 CFiapman's Works. Complete in 
 Three Vols. Vol. I. contains the 
 Plays complete, including doubtful 
 ones; Vol. II., Poems and Minor 
 Translations, with IntroductoryEssay 
 by A.C.Swinburne; Vol. III., Trans- 
 lations of the Iliad and Odyssey, 
 
 Marlowe's Works. Including his 
 Translations. Edited, with Notes 
 and Introduction, by Col. Cunning- 
 ham. One Vol. 
 
 Massinger's Plays. From the Text of 
 William Gifford. Edited by Col. 
 Cunningham. One Vol. 
 
 Dyer. — The Folk -Lore of 
 
 Plants. By Rev. T. F. Thiselton 
 Dyer, M.A. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 7s. 6d. [In preparation. 
 
 Early English Poets. Edited, 
 
 with Introductions and Annotations, 
 by Rev. A. B.Grosart, D.D. Crown 
 8vo, cloth boards, 6s. per Volume. 
 
 Fietclier's (Giles, B.D.) Complete 
 Poems. One Vol. 
 
 Davles' (Sir John) Complete 
 Poetical Works. Two Vols. 
 
 Herrick's (Robert) Complete Col- 
 lected Poems. Three Vols. 
 
 Sidney's (Sir Philip) Complete 
 Poetical Works. Three Vols. 
 
 Herbert ( Lord) of Cherbu ry's Poems 
 
 Edited, with Introduction, by J. 
 Churton Collins. Crown 8vo, 
 parchment, 8s. 
 
 Edwardes(Mrs. A.), Novels by: 
 A Point of Honour. Post 8vo, illus- 
 trated boards, 2s. 
 
 Archie Lovell. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 3s. 6d. ; post 8vo, illust. bds., 2s. 
 
 Eggleston.— Roxy: ANovel. By 
 
 Edward Eggleston. Post 8vo, illust. 
 boards, 2s. 
 
 \ 
 
CHAftO 6- WmnVS, PieCAMLLY. 
 
 Emanue!. — On Diamonds and 
 
 Pr'ecious Stones: thsir History, Value, 
 and Properties ; with Simple Tests for 
 ascertaining tlieir Reality. By Harry 
 Emanuel, F.R.G.S. With numerous 
 Illustrations, tinted and plain. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 6s. 
 
 Englishman's House, The : A 
 
 Practical Guide to all interested in 
 Selecting or Building a House, with 
 full Estimates of Cost, Quantities, &c. 
 By C J. Richardson. Third Edition. 
 Nearly 600 Illusts. Cr. 8vo,cl. ex.,7s 6d. 
 
 English Merchants: Memoirs 
 
 in illustration of the Progress of British 
 Commerce. By H. R, Fox Bourne. 
 With Illusts. New and Cheaper Edit, 
 revised. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d, 
 
 [^Shortly. 
 
 Ewald (Alex. Charles, F.S.A.), 
 
 Works by : 
 
 The Life and Times of Prince 
 Charles Stuart, Count of Albany, 
 commonly called the Young Pre- 
 tender. From the State Papers and 
 other Sources. New and Cheaper 
 Edition, with a Portrait, crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Stories from the State Papers. 
 
 With an Autotype Facsimile. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Studies Re-studied: Historical 
 Sketches from Original Sources. 
 Demy 8vo cloth extra, 123. 
 
 Eyes, The. — How to Use our 
 
 Eyes, and Plow to Preserve Them. By 
 John Browning, F.R.A.S., &c. With 
 52 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. Is.: cloth, 
 is. 6d. 
 
 Fairhoit. — Tobacco: Its His- 
 tory and Associations ; with an Ac- 
 count of the Plant and its Manu- 
 facture, and its Modes of Use in all 
 Ages and Countries. By F. W. Fair- 
 holt, F.S.A. With upwards of 100 
 Illustrations by the Author. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Familiar Allusions: A Hand- 
 book of Miscellaneous Information ; 
 including the Names of Celebrated 
 Statues, Paintings, Palaces, Country 
 Seats, Ruins, Churches, Ships, Streets, 
 Clubs, Natural Curiosities, and the 
 like. By William A. Wheeler, 
 Autho ■ oi " Noted Names of Fiction ; " 
 and Charles G. Wheeler. Demy 
 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Faraday (Michael), Works by: 
 
 Post 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. each. 
 The Chemical History of a Candle : 
 
 Lectures delivered before a Juvenile 
 Audience at the Royal Institution. 
 Edited by William Crookes, F.C.S, 
 With numerous Illustrations. 
 
 On the Various Forces of Nature, 
 
 and their Relations to each other : 
 Lectures delivered before a Juvenile 
 Audience at the Royal Institution. 
 Edited by William Crookes, F.C.S. 
 With numerous Illustrations. 
 
 Farrer. — Military Manners 
 
 and Customs. By J. A. Farrer, 
 
 Author of " Primitive Manners and 
 Customs," &c. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Fin-Bee. — The Cupboard 
 
 Papers : Observations on the Art of 
 Living and Dining. By Fin-Bec. Post 
 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Fitzgerald (Percy), Works by : 
 
 The Recreations of a Literary IVIan ; 
 
 or. Does Writing Pay ? With Re- 
 collections of some Literary Men, 
 and a View of a Literary Man's 
 Working Life. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 The World Behind the Scenes. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Little Essays: Passages from the 
 Letters of Charles Lamb. Post 
 8vo, clo th limp, 23. 6d. 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 Bella Donna. | Never Forgotten 
 The Second Mrs. Tillotson. 
 Polly. 
 
 Seventy-flve Brooke Street. 
 The Lady of Brantome. 
 
 Fletcher's (Giles, B.D.] Com- 
 plete Poems : Christ's Victoria in 
 Heaven, Christ's Victorie on Earth, 
 Christ's Triumph over Death, and 
 Minor Poems, With Memorial- Intro- 
 duction and Notes by the Rev. A. B. 
 G rosart, D.D. Cr. 8vo, cloth bds., 68. 
 
 Fonblanque. — Filthy Lucre: A 
 
 Novel. By Albany de Fonblanque. 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Francillon (R. E.), Novels by: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 
 post 8vo, illust. boards, 2s. each. 
 Olympia. I Queen Cophetusu 
 
 One by One. | A Real Queen. 
 
 Esther's Glove. Fcap. 8vo, Is. 
 
 French Literature, History of. 
 By Henry Van Laun, Complete in 
 3 Vols., demy 8vo, cl. bds., 7s. 6d. each, 
 
10 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 fvBPe. — Rand u rang Hari ; or, 
 
 Memoirs of a Hindoo. With a Preface 
 by Sir H. Bartle Frere, G.C.S.I.', &c. 
 Crov/n 8vo, cloth extra, Ss. 6d. ; post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 FrisweH.— Oneof Two: ANovoL 
 
 By Hain Friswell. Post 8vo, illus- 
 trated boards, 2s. 
 
 ^ Frost (Thomas), Works by: 
 
 .'; Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. each. 
 
 Circus Life and Circus Celebrities. 
 
 The Lives of the Conjurers, 
 
 The C!d Showmen and the Old 
 London Fairs. 
 
 Fry's (Herbert) Roya! Guide 
 
 to the London Charities, 1885-6. 
 
 Shovv^ing their Name, Date of Founda- 
 tion, Objects, Income, Officials, &c. Pub- 
 lished Annually. Cr. 8vo, cloth, Is. 6d. 
 
 Gardening Books: 
 
 Post 8vo, Is. each ; cl. limp, Is. 6d. each. 
 
 A Year's Work in Garden and Green- 
 house : Practical Advice to Amateur 
 Gardeners as to the Management of 
 the Flower, Fruit, and Frame Garden. 
 By George Glenny. 
 
 Our Kitchen Garden : The Plants we 
 Grow, and How we Cook Them. 
 By Tom Jerrold. 
 
 Household Horticulture: A Gossip 
 about Flowers. By Tom and Jane 
 Jerrold. Illustrated. 
 
 The Garden that Paid the Rent. 
 By Tom Jerrold. 
 
 IVly Garden Wild, and What I Grew 
 there. ByF.G, Heath. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 6s. ; gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 Garrett. — The Cape! Girls: A 
 
 Novel. By Edward Garrett. Cr. 8vo, 
 cl. ex., 3s. 6d. ; post 8vo, illust. bds., 2s. 
 
 Gentleman's Magazine (The) 
 
 for 1886. One Shilling Monthly. In 
 addition to the Articles upon subjects 
 in Literature, Science, and Art, for 
 which this Magazine has so high a 
 reputation, "Science Notes," by W. 
 Mattieu Williams, F.R.A.S., and 
 "Table Talk," by Sylvanus Urban, 
 appear monthly. 
 
 \* Just ready, the Volume for July to 
 December, 1885, cloth extra, pnce 8s. GCL.; 
 Cases for binding, 2s. each. 
 
 Gentleman's Annual (The) for 
 
 Christmas, 1885. Price Is. Contain- 
 ing a Complete Novel entitled " A Bar- 
 ren Title," by T. W. Speight, Author 
 of *' The Mysteries of Heron Dyke." 
 
 German Popular Stories. Col- 
 lected, by the Brothers Grimm, and 
 Translated by Edgar Taylor. Edited, 
 with an Introduction, by John Ruskin. 
 With 23 Illustrations on Steel by 
 George Cruikshank. Square 8vo, 
 clotli extra, 6s. 6d. ; gilt edges, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Gibbon (Charles), Novels by : 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Ss. 6d. each 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 The Braes of Yar- 
 row. 
 
 The Flower of the 
 Forest. 
 
 A Heart's Prob 
 lem. 
 
 TheGoldenShaft. 
 
 Of High Degree. 
 
 Robin Gray. 
 
 For Lack of Gold. 
 
 What will the 
 
 World Say? 
 In Honour Bound. 
 In Love and War. 
 Queen of the 
 
 Mea.dow. 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 For the King. | In PasturesGreen. 
 The Dead Heart. 
 By Mead and Stream. ^Preparing, 
 Heart's Delight. iPreparing. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s, 6d. each. 
 
 Fancy Free. [ Loving a Dream. 
 A Hard Knot. 
 
 Gilbert (William), Novels by : 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 Dr. Austin's Guests. 
 The Vv'izard of the Mountain. 
 James Duke, Costermonger. 
 
 Gilbert (W. S.), Original Plays 
 
 by: In Two Series, each complete in 
 itself, price 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 The First Series contains — The 
 Wicked World— Pygmalion and Ga- 
 latea — Charity — The Princess — The 
 Palace of Truth — Trial, by Jury. 
 
 The Second Series contains — Bro- 
 ken Hearts— Engaged— Sweethearts— 
 Gretchen — Dan'l Druce — Tom Cobb— 
 H,M.S. Pinafore— The Sorcerer— The 
 Pirates of Penzance. 
 
 Eight Original Comic Operas. Writ- 
 ten by W. S. Gilbert. Containing : 
 The Sorcerer— H. M.S. "Pinafore" 
 -—The Pirates of Penzance — lolanthe 
 — Patience — Princess Ida — The 
 Mikado — Trial by Jury. Demy 8vo, 
 cloth l imp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Glenny. — A Year's Work in 
 
 Garden and Greenhouse: Practical 
 Advice to Amateur Gardeners as to 
 the Management of the Flower, Fruit, 
 and Frame Garden. By George 
 Glenny. Post 8vo, Is.; cloth, Is. 6(i. 
 
 Godwin. — Lives of the Necro- 
 mancers. By William Godwin 
 Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 
 
CHATTO &> WIN BUS, PICCADILLY. 
 
 II 
 
 Golden Library, The: 
 
 Square i6mo (Tauchnltz size), cloth 
 limp, 23. per volunie. 
 
 Bayard Tayior's Diversions of the 
 Echo Club. 
 
 Bennett's (Dp. W. C.) Ballad History 
 of England. 
 
 Bennett's (Dr.) Songs for Sailors. 
 Byron's Don Juan. 
 
 Godwin's (William) Lives of the 
 Necromancers. 
 
 Holmes's Autocrat of the Break- 
 fast Table. Introduction by Sala. 
 
 Holmes's Professor at the Break- 
 fast Table. 
 
 Hood's Whims and Oddities. Com- 
 plete. All the original Illustrations. 
 
 Irving's (Vt/ashlngton) Tales of a 
 Traveller. 
 
 Irvlng's (Washington) Tales of the 
 Alhambra. 
 
 Jesse's (Edward) Scenes and Oc- 
 cupations of a Country Life. 
 
 Lamb's Essays of Ella. Both Series 
 Complete in One Vol. 
 
 Leigh Hunt's Essays: A Tale for a 
 Chimney Corner, and other Pieces. 
 With Portrait, and Introduction by 
 Edmund Ollier. 
 
 Mallory's (Sir Thomas) Mort 
 d'Arthur: The Stories of King 
 Arthur and of the Knights of the 
 Round Table. Edited by B. Mont- 
 GOMERiE Ranking. 
 
 Pascal's Provincial Letters. A New 
 
 Translation, with Historical Intro- 
 ductionand Notes,byT.M'CRiE,D.D. 
 Pope's Poetical Works. Complete. 
 
 Rochefoucauld's Maxims and Mora! 
 Reflections. With Notes, and In- 
 troductory Essay by Sainte-Beuve. 
 
 St. Pierre's Paul and Virginia, and 
 The Indian Cottage. Edited, with 
 Life, by the Rev. E. Clarke. 
 
 Shelley's Early Poems, and Queen 
 Mab. With Essay by Leigh Hunt. 
 
 Shelley's Later Poems: Laon and 
 Cythna, &c. 
 
 Shelley's Posthumous Poems, the 
 Shelley Papers, &c. 
 
 Shelley's Prose Works, including A 
 Refutation ot Deism, Zastrozzi, St 
 
 Irvyne, &c. 
 
 Golden Treasury of Thought, 
 
 The : An Encyclopedia of Quota- 
 tions from Writers of all Times and 
 Countries. Selected and Edited by 
 Theodore Taylor. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 gilt and gilt edges, 7s. ^, 
 
 Gpaham. — The Professor's 
 
 Wife : A Story. By Leonard Graham. 
 Fcap. 8vo, picture cover. Is. 
 
 Greeks and Romans, The Life 
 
 of the. Described from Antique Monu 
 ments. By Ernst Guhl and W 
 KoNER. Translated from the Third 
 German Edition, and Edited by Dr 
 F. HuEFFER. With 545 Illustrations 
 New and Cheaper Edition, demy 8vo 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Greenwood (James), Works by 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. each. 
 The Wilds of London. 
 Low-Life Deeps : An Account of the 
 Strange Fish to be Found There. 
 
 Dick Temple: A Novel. Post Svo, 
 illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Guyot. — The Earth and Man ; 
 
 or. Physical Geography in its relation 
 to the History of Mankind. By 
 Arnold Guyot. With Additions by 
 Professors Agassiz, Pierce, and Gray* 
 12 Maps and Engravings on Steel, 
 some Coloured, and copious Index. 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, gilt, 4s. 6d. 
 
 Hair (The): Its Treatment in 
 Health, Weakness, and Disease. 
 Translated from the German of Dr. J. 
 PiNcus. Crown Svo, Is.; cloth. Is. 6d. 
 
 Hake (Dr. Thomas Gordon), 
 Poems by: 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. each. 
 New Symbols. 
 Legends of the Morrow. 
 The Serpent Play. 
 
 Maiden Ecstasy. Small 4to, cloth 
 extra, 8s. 
 
 Hall. — Sketches of Irish Cha- 
 racter. By Mrs. S. C. Hall. With 
 numerous Illustrations on Steel and 
 Wood by Maclise, Gilbert, Harvey, 
 and G. Cruikshank. Medium Svo, 
 cloth extra, gilt, 7s. 6d . 
 
 Halliday. — Everyday Papers. 
 
 By Andrew Halliday. Post Svo, 
 illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Handwriting, The Philosophy 
 
 of. With over loo Facsimiles and Ex- 
 planatory Text. By Don Felix de 
 Salamanca. Post Svo, cl. limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 lanky-Panky: A Collection of 
 
 Very EasyTricks,Very Diflicult Tricks, 
 White Magic, Sleigiit of Hand, &c. 
 Edited by W. H. Cremer. With 200 
 Illusts. Crowa Svo, cloth extra,43. 6d. 
 
12 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Hardy (Lady Duffus). — Paul 
 
 Wynter's Sacrifice: A Story. By 
 Lady Duffus Hardy. Post 8vo, illust. 
 boards, 2s. 
 
 Hardy (Thomas).— Under the 
 Greenwood Tree. By Thomas Hardy, 
 Author of "Far from the Madding 
 Crowd." With numerous Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post 
 8v o, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Harwood. — The Tenth Earl . 
 
 By J. Berwick Harwood. Post 8vo, 
 illustrated b oards, 23. [In the press. 
 
 Haweis (Mrs. H. R.), Works by : 
 
 The Art of Dress. With numerous 
 
 Illustrations. Small 8vo, illustrated 
 
 cover, Is. ; cloth limp, Is. 6d. 
 
 The Art of Beauty. New and Cheaper 
 
 Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 
 Coloured Frontispiece and Illusts.6s. 
 
 The Art of Decoration. Square 8vo, 
 
 handsomely bound and profusely 
 
 Illustrated, 10s. 6d. 
 
 Chaucer for Children: A Golden 
 Key. With Eight Coloured Pictures 
 and numerous Woodcuts. New 
 Edition, small 4to, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Chaucer for Schools. Demy 8vo, 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Haweis (Rev. H. R.). — American 
 
 Humorists. Including Washington 
 Irving, Oliver Wendell Holmes, 
 James Russell Lowell, Artemus 
 Ward, Mark Twain, and Bret Harte. 
 By the Rev. H. R. Haweis, M.A. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra , 63. 
 
 Hawthorne (Julian), Novels by. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Garth. I Sebastian Strome. 
 
 Eilice Quentin. | Dust. 
 
 Prince Saroni's Wife. 
 
 Fortune's Fool. | Beatrix Randolph. 
 
 Crown 8vp, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 Miss Cadogna. 
 
 Love — or a Name. IShortly. 
 
 Mrs. Gainsborough's Diamonds. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, illustrated cover, Is. 
 
 Hays.— Women of the Day: A 
 
 Biographical Dictionary of Notable 
 Contemporaries. By Frances Hays. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 5s. 
 
 Heath (F. G.). — My Garden 
 
 . Wild, and What I Grew There. By 
 Francis George Heath, Author of 
 " The Fern World," &c. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 6s. ; cl. gilt, gilt edges, 6s, 
 
 Helps (Sir Arthur), Works by : 
 
 Post 8vo, cloth limp, 23. 6d. each. 
 Animals and their Masters. 
 Social Pressure. 
 
 Ivan de BIron : A Novel. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, illus- 
 trated boards, 2s. 
 
 Heptalogia (The); or, The 
 
 Seven against Sense. A Cap with 
 Seven Bells. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 6s, 
 
 Herbert.— The Poems of Lord 
 
 Herbert of Cherbury. Edited, with 
 Introduction, by J. Churton Collins, 
 Crown 8vo, bound in parchment, 8s. 
 
 Herrick's (Robert) Hesperides, 
 
 Noble Numbers, and Complete Col- 
 lected Poems. With Memorial-Intro- 
 duction and Notes by the Rev. A. B. 
 Grosart, D.D., Steel Portrait, Index 
 of First Lines, and Glossarial Index, 
 &c. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth, 18s. 
 
 Hesae- Wartegg (Chevaliep 
 Ernst von), Works by : 
 Tunis: The Land and the People. 
 With 22 Illustrations. Crown Bvo, 
 cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 The New South-West: Travelling 
 Sketches from Kansas, New Mexico, 
 Arizona, and Northern Mexico. 
 With 100 fine Illustrations and Three 
 Maps. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, 
 14s. \_In preparation, 
 
 Hindley (Charles), Works by : 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings: In- 
 cluding the Origin of Signs, and 
 Reminiscences connected with 
 Taverns, Coffee Houses, Clubs, &c. 
 With Illustrations. 
 
 The Life and Adventures of a Cheap 
 Jack. By One of the Fraternity, 
 Edited by Charles Hindley. 
 
 Hoey. — The Lover's Creed. 
 
 By Mrs. Cashel Hoey. With Frontis- 
 piece by P. Macnab. New and Cheaper 
 Edit. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Holmes (O.Wendell), Works by : 
 
 The Autocrat of the Breakfast- 
 Table. Illustrated by J. Gordon 
 Thomson. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 
 2s. 6d. — Another Edition in smaller 
 type, with an Introduction by G. A. 
 Sala. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 
 
 The Professor at the Breakfast- 
 Table ; with the Story of Iris. Post 
 8vo, cloth limp, ?s. 
 
CHATTO ^ W INDUS, PICCADILLY, 
 
 13 
 
 Holmes. — The Science of 
 Voice Production and Voice Preser- 
 vation : A Popular Manual for the 
 Use of Speakers and Singers. By 
 Gordon Holmes, M.D. With Illus- 
 trations. Crown 8vo, Is. ; cloth, Is. 6d. 
 
 Hood (Thomas): 
 
 Hood's Choice Works, in Prose and 
 Verse. Including the Cream of the 
 Comic Annuals. With Life of the 
 Author, Portrait, and 200 Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Hood's Whims and Oddities. Com- 
 plete. With all the original Illus- 
 trations. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 
 
 Hood (Tom), Works by: 
 
 From Nowhere to the North Pole: 
 
 A Noah's Arkseological Narrative. 
 With 25 Illustrations by W. Brun- 
 TON and E. C. Barnes. Square 
 crown Svo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 A Golden Heart: A Novel. Post Svo, 
 illustrated boards, 23. 
 
 Hook's (Theodore) Choice Hu- 
 morous Works, including his Ludi- 
 crous Adventures, Bons Mots, Puns and 
 Hoaxes. With a New Life of the 
 Author, Portraits, Facsimiles, and 
 Illusts. Cr. Svo, cl. extra, gilt, 73. 6(1. 
 
 Hooper. — The House of Raby : 
 
 A Novel. By Mrs. George Hooper. 
 Post Svo, illustrated boards, 23. 
 
 Hopkins — " Twixt Love and 
 
 Duty." A Novel. By Tighe Hopkins. 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. [In the press, 
 
 Horne.— Orion ; An Epic Poem, 
 in Three Books. By Richard Hen- 
 gist Horne. With Photographic 
 Portrait from a Medallion by Sum- 
 mers. Tenth Edition, crown Svo, 
 cloth extra, 7s. 
 
 Howell.— Conflicts of Capital 
 
 and Labour, Historically and Eco- 
 nomically considered : Being a His- 
 tory and Review of the Trade Unions 
 of Great Britain. By Geo. Howell 
 M.P. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6(i. 
 
 Hugo. — The Hunchback of 
 Notre Dame. By Victor Hugo. 
 Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Hunt.— Essays by Leigh Hunt. 
 
 A Tale for a Chimney Corner, and 
 other Pieces. With Portrait and In- 
 troduction by Edmund Ollier, Post 
 8vo, cloth limp, ^g, ' ' • 
 
 Hunt (Mrs. Alfred), Novels by; 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 29. each, 
 
 Thornlcroft'8 Model. 
 
 The Leaden Casket. 
 
 SelfCondemfted 
 
 Indoor Paupers. By One op 
 
 Them. Crown Svo, is. ; cloth, iB. 6d. 
 
 Ingelow.— Fated to be Free : A, 
 
 Novel. By Jean Imgelow. Crown 
 Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, 
 illustrated boards, 23. 
 
 Irish Wit and Humour, Songs 
 
 of. Collected and Edited bv A. Pbji- 
 CEVAL Graves. Post Svo, cloth limp, 
 2s. 6d. 
 
 — ■ ■ ■ ' ' ' ■■■ ■ ■ ■■^■^■■ > | i II I ■ ,m ^ ■■■■■■ ■ *■ i i ■ « ■■.» ^ j, ■' ' 
 
 Irving (Washlngton),Work8 by: 
 
 Post Svo, cloth limp, 2fi. each. 
 Tales of a Traveller. 
 Tales of the Alhambra. 
 
 Janvier. — Practical Keramlcs 
 
 for Students. By Catherine A, 
 Janvier. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Jay (Harriett), Novels by: 
 
 The Dark Colleen. Post Svo, illus- 
 trated boards, 2s. 
 
 The Queen of Connaught. Crown 
 Svo, cloth extra, 8s. 6(1.; post Svo, 
 illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Jefferies (Richard), Works by: 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 63. each. 
 Nature near London. 
 The Life of the Fields. 
 The Open Air. 
 
 Jennings (H. J.), Works by: 
 
 Curiosities of Criticism. Post Svo, 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Lord Tennyson: A Biographical 
 Sketch. With a Photograph-Por- 
 trait. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Jennings (Hargrave). — The 
 
 Roslcruclans: Their Rites and Mys- 
 teries. With Chapters on the Ancient 
 Fire and Serpent Worshippers. By 
 Hargrave Jennings. With Five full- 
 page Plates and upwards of 300 Illus- 
 trations. A New Edition, crown Svq, 
 cloth extra, 7s. §a, '' " * 
 
14 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Jerrold (Tom), Works by : 
 
 Post 8vo, Is. each ; cloth, Is. 6d. each. 
 Tfie Garden that Paid the Rent. 
 Household Horticulture: A Gossip 
 
 about Flowers. Illustrated. 
 Our» Kitchen Garden: The Plants 
 
 we Grow, and How we Cook Them. 
 
 Jesse. — Scenes and Occupa- 
 tions of a Country Life. By Edward 
 Jesse, Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 
 
 Jeux d'Esprlt. Collected and 
 
 Edited by Henry S. Leigh. PostSvo, 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6CL. 
 
 Jones (Wm., F.S.A.), Works by.: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6(1. each. 
 
 Finger-Ring Lore: Historical, Le- 
 gendary, and Anecdotal. With over 
 Two Hundred Illustrations. 
 
 Credulities, Past and Present; in- 
 cluding the Sea and Seamen, Miners, 
 Talismans.Word and Letter Divina- 
 tion, Exorcising and Blessing of 
 Animals, Birds, Eggs, Luck, &c. 
 With an Etched Frontispiece. 
 
 Crowns and Coronations : A History 
 of Regalia in all Times and Coun- 
 tries. With One Hundred Illus- 
 trations. 
 
 Jonson's (Ben) Works. With 
 
 Notes Critical and Explanatory, and 
 a Biographical Memoir by William 
 GiFFORD. Edited by Colonel Cun- 
 ningham. Three Vols., crown Bvo, 
 cloth extra, 18s. ; or separately, 6s. each! 
 
 Joseph US, The Com pleteWorks 
 
 of. Translated by Vv^histon. Con- 
 taining both " The Antiquities of the 
 Jews " and " The Wars of the Jews." 
 Two Vols., 8vo, with 52 Illustrations 
 and Maps, cloth extra, gilt, Hs. 
 
 Kempt.— Pencil and Palette: 
 
 Chapters on Art and Artists. By Robert 
 Kempt. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s, 6d. 
 
 Kingsley (Henry), Novels by : 
 
 Oakshott Castle. Post 8vo, illus- 
 trated boards, 23. 
 
 Number Seventeen. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, illustrated 
 boards, 2s. 
 
 Knight. — The Patient's Vade 
 
 Mecum : How to get most Benefit 
 from Medical Advice. By V/illiam 
 Knight, M.R.C.S., and Edward 
 Knight, L.R.C.P. Crown 8vo, Is. : 
 cloth, Is. 6d. 
 
 Lamb (Gha.rles): 
 
 Lamb's Complete Works, in Prose 
 and Verse, reprinted from the Ori- 
 ginal Editions, with many Pieces 
 hitherto unpublished. Edited, with 
 Notes and Introduction, by R. H. 
 Shepherd. With Two Portraits and 
 Facsimile of Page of the *' Essay on 
 Roast Pig." Cr. Bvo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d 
 
 The Essays of Elia. Complete Edi- 
 tion. Post Bvo, cloth extra, 2s. 
 
 Poetry for Children, and Prince 
 Dorus, By Charles Lamb. Care- 
 fully reprinted from unique copies. 
 Small Bvo, cloth extra, 5s. 
 
 Little Essays : Sketches and Charac- 
 ters. By Charles Lamb. Selected 
 from his Letters by Percy Fitz- 
 gerald. Post Bvo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Lane's Arabian Nights, Sec: 
 
 The Thousand and One Nights: 
 
 commonly called, in England, " The 
 Arabian Nights' Entertain- 
 ments.'* A New Translation from 
 the Arabic, with copious Notes, by 
 Edward William Lane. Illustrated 
 by many hundred Engravings on 
 Wood, from Original Designs by 
 Wm. Harvey. A New Edition, from 
 a Copy annotated by the Translator, 
 edited by his Nephew, Edward 
 Stanley Pooi.e. V/ith a Preface by 
 Stanley Lane-Poole. Three Vols., 
 demy Syo, cloth extra, 7s 6d. each. 
 Arabian Society in the Middle Ages: 
 Studies from "The Thousand and 
 One Nights.'* By Edward William 
 Lane, Author of "The Modern 
 Egyptians," &c. Edited by Stanley 
 Lane-Poole. Cr. Bvo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Lares and Penates ; or, The 
 
 Background of Life. By Florence 
 Caddy. Crown Bvo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Larwood (Jacob), Works by: 
 
 The Story of the London Parks. 
 
 With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 extra, 38. 6d. 
 
 Post Bvo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. 
 Forensic Anecdotes. 
 Theatrical Anecdotes. 
 
 Life in London ; or, The History 
 
 of Jerry Hawthorn and Corinthian 
 Tom. With the whole of Crvi-k- 
 shank's Illustrations, in Colours, after 
 the Originals. Crown Bvo, cloth extra, 
 73. 6d. 
 
 Linton (E. Lynn), Works by : 
 
 Post Bvo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. 
 Witch stories. 
 
 The True story of Joshua Davidson, 
 Ourselves: Essays on Women, 
 
CHATTG S^ WIND US, PICCADILLY. 
 
 15 
 
 Linton (E. Lynn), contimied— 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. each ; post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 23. each. 
 
 Pati^lcla Kemball. 
 
 The Atonement of Learn Dundas 
 
 The World Well Lost. 
 
 Under which Lord P 
 
 With a Silken Thread. 
 
 Tlie Rebel of the Family. 
 
 "My Love!" | lone. 
 
 Locks and Keys. — On the De- 
 velopment and Distribution of Primi- 
 tive Locks and Keys. By Lieut. -Gen. 
 Pitt-Rivers, F.R.S. With numerous 
 Illusts. Demy4to, half Roxburghe, 163. 
 
 Longfellow: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 73. 6d. each. 
 
 Longfellow's Complete Prose Works. 
 Including " Outre Mer," " Hyper- 
 ion," " Kavanagh," '* The Poets and 
 Poetry of Europe, "and " Driftwood.'' 
 With Portrait and Illustrations by 
 Valentine Bromley. 
 
 Longfellow's Poetical Works. Care- 
 fully Reprinted from the Original 
 Editions. With numerous fine illus- 
 trations on Steel and Wood. 
 
 Long Life, Aids to: A Medical, 
 Dietetic, and General Guide in 
 Health and Disease. By N. E. 
 Davies, L.R.C.P. Crown Bvo, 23. ; 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Lucy. — Gideon Fleyce: A NoveL 
 
 By Henry W. Lucy. Crown 8vo, 
 cl. ex., 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, illust. bds., 2s. 
 
 Luslad (The) of Camoens. 
 
 Translated into English Spenserian 
 Verse by Robert Ffrench Duff. 
 Demy 8vo, with Fourteen full-page 
 Plates, cloth boards, 183. 
 
 McCapthy (Justin, M.P.),Wopk3 
 by: 
 
 A History of Oup Own Times, from 
 the Accession of Queen Victoria to 
 the General Election of 1880. Four 
 Vols, demy 8vo, cloth extra, 123. 
 each. — Also a Popular Edition, in 
 Four Vols. cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 6s. each. 
 
 A Short History of Our Own Times. 
 
 One Vol., crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 History of the Four Georges. Four 
 
 Vols, demy Bvo, cloth extra, 12s. 
 
 each. [Vol. L now ready. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Ss. 6d, each ; 
 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Dear Lady Disdain. 
 
 The WaterdaSe Neighbours. 
 
 McCarthy (Justin), continued — 
 My Enemy's Daughter. 
 
 A Fair Saxon. 
 
 Liniey Rochford 
 
 The Comet of a Season. 
 
 Maid of Athens. 
 
 Miss Misanthrope. 
 Donna Quixote. 
 
 Camiola: A Girl with a Fortune. 
 Three Vols., crown 8vo. Third Edit. 
 
 "The Right Honourable:" A Novel. 
 By Justin McCarthy and Mrsi 
 Campbell Praed. Three Vols., 
 crown 8vo. \_In the press. 
 
 McCaptlTy (Justin H., M.P.), 
 
 Works by: 
 
 An Outline of the History of Ireland, 
 
 from the Earliest Times to the Pre- 
 sent Day. Cr. 8vo, Is. ; cloth, Is. 6d. 
 
 England under Gladstone, 1880-85. 
 
 Second Edition, revised and brought 
 down to the Fall of the Gladstone 
 Administration. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 extra, 6s. 
 
 Doom ! An Atlantic Episode. Crown 
 8v6, Is. ; cloth, Is. 6d. [Prepaying. 
 
 Our Sensation Novel. Edited by 
 Justin H. McCarthy. Crown 8vo, 
 Is. ; cloth, Is. 6d. [In the press. 
 
 MacDonaid (George, LL.D.), 
 
 Works by : 
 The Princess and Curdle. With 11 
 
 Illustrations by James Allen. Small 
 
 crown 8vo, cloth extra, 5s. 
 Guttapercha Willie, the Working 
 
 Genius, With 9 Illustrations by 
 
 Arthur Hughes. Square 8vo, cloth 
 
 extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Paul Faber, Surgeon. With a Fron- 
 tispiece by J. E. MiLLAis. 
 
 Thomas Wingfold, Curate. With a 
 Frontispiece by C. J. Staniland. 
 
 Macdonell. — Quaker Cousins: 
 
 A Novel. By Agnes Macdonell. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 23. 
 
 Macgregop. — Pastimes a.nd 
 
 Players. Notes on Popular Games. 
 By Robert Macgregor. Post 8vo, 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 iVlacllse Poptpait-Gailepy (The) 
 of Illustrious Literary Characters; 
 
 Vv^ith Memoirs — Biographical, Critical, 
 Bibliographical, and Anecdotal — illus- 
 trative of the Literature of the former 
 half of the Present Century. By 
 William Bates, B.A. _ With 85 Por- 
 traits printed on an India Tint. Crov/a 
 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d, 
 
te 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Mackay. — Interludes and Un- 
 dertones: or, Music at Twilight. By 
 Charles Mackay, LL.D. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 63. 
 
 Macquold (Mrs.), Works by: 
 
 Square 8vo, cloth extra, lOs. 6(1. each. 
 
 In the Ardennes. With 50 fine Illus- 
 trations by Thomas R. Macquoid. 
 
 Pictures and Legends from Nor* 
 mandy and Brittany. With numer- 
 ous Illustrations by Thomas R. 
 Macquoid. 
 
 About Yorkshire. With 67 Illustra- 
 tions by T. R. Macquoid. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 Through Normandy. With 90 Illas- 
 trations byT. R, Macquoid. 
 
 Through Brittany. With numerouf 
 Illustrations by T. R. Macquoid. 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 The Evil Eye, and other Stories. 
 Lost Rose. 
 
 Magician's Own Book (The"): 
 
 Performances with Cups and Balls. 
 Eggs, Hats, Handkerchiefs, &c. All 
 from actual Experience. Edited by 
 W. H, Cremer. With 200 Illustrations, 
 Cro wn 8vo, cloth extra, 48. 6A. 
 
 Magic No IVlystery : Tricks with 
 
 Cards, Dice, Balls, &c., with fully 
 descriptive Directions ; the Art of 
 Secret Writing ; Training of Perform- 
 ing Animals, &c. With Coloured 
 Frontispiece and many Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 43. 6d. 
 
 Magic Lantern (The), and its 
 
 Management: including full Prac- 
 tical Directions for producing the 
 Limelight, making Oxygen Gas, and 
 preparing Lantern Slides. By T. C. 
 Hepworth. With 10 Illustrations. 
 Crown 8vo, l8. ; cloth. Is. 6d. 
 
 Magna Charta. An exact Fac- 
 simile of the Original in the British 
 Museum, printed on fine plate paper, 
 3 feet by 2 feet, with Arms and Seals 
 emblaeoned in Gold and Col.ours. 5s. 
 
 Mailock (W. H.), Works by: 
 
 The New Republic; or, Culture, Faith 
 and Philosophy in an English Country 
 House. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. ; 
 Cheap Edition, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 The New Paul and Virginia ; or. Posi- 
 tivism on an Island. Post 8vo, cloth 
 limp, %. 6d. 
 
 Poems. Small 4to, in parchment, 8s, 
 
 |8 Life worth Living P Crown 8to, 
 cloth extrai 68. 
 
 Mallory's (Sir Thomas) Mort 
 
 d 'Arthur : The Stories of King Arthur 
 and of the Knights of the Round Table, 
 Edited by B. Montgomerie Ranking. 
 Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 
 
 Marpyat (Florence), Novels by: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post 6vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Open ! Sesame ! 
 Written In Fire 
 
 Post Svo, illustrated boards, 23. each. 
 A Harvest of Wild Oats. 
 A Little Stepson. 
 Fighting the Air. 
 
 Masterman. — Half a Dozen 
 
 Daughters: A Novel. By J. Master- 
 man. Post Svo, illustrated boards* 2s. 
 
 Marlowe's Works. Including 
 
 his Translations. Edited, with Notes 
 and Introductions, by Col. Cun- 
 ningham. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 63. 
 
 Mark Twain, Works by: 
 
 The Choice Works of Mark Twain. 
 
 Revised and Corrected throughout by 
 the Author. With Life, Portrait, and 
 numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 The Innocents Abroad ; or. The New 
 
 Pilgrim's Progress : Being some Ac- 
 count of the Steamship " Quaker 
 City's " Pleasure Excursion to 
 Europe and the Holy Land. With 
 234 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 extra, 7s. 6d. — Cheap Edition (under 
 the title of" Mark Twain's Pleasure 
 Trip "),post Svo, illust. boards, 2s. 
 
 Roughing It, and The Innocents at 
 Home. With 200 Illustrations bv 
 F. A. Eraser. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 The Gilded Age. By Mark Twain 
 and Charles Dudley Warner. 
 With 212 Illustrations by T. Coppin. 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. 
 
 With III Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. — Cheap Edition, 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 An Idle Excurs!on,and other Sketches. 
 Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 The Prince and the Pauper. With 
 nearly 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 A Tramp Abroad. With 314 Illustra- 
 tions. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 — Cheap Edition, post 8vo,illustrated 
 boards, 2s. 
 
 The Stolen White Elephant, &c. 
 
 Crown Sto, cloth extra, 6ji. ; post 8vo, 
 illustrated boards, 23. 
 
■■i>: 
 
 CBATTO 6- WINDVS, PICCADILLY, 
 
 17 
 
 Mark Twain's Works, contimted — 
 
 Life on the Mississippi. With about 
 300 Original Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 The Adventures of Huckleberry 
 Finn. With 174 Illustrations by 
 E. W. Kemble. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Massingep's Plays. From the 
 Text of William Gifford. Edited 
 by Col. Cunningham. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra> 8s. 
 
 Mayfaip Library, The: 
 
 Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. per Volume. 
 
 A Journey Round IVIy Room. By 
 Xavier de Maistre. Translated 
 by Henry Attwell. 
 
 Latter-Day Lyrics. Edited by W 
 Davenport Adams. 
 
 Quips and Quiddities. Selected by 
 W. Davenport Adams. 
 
 The Agony Column of "The Times," 
 
 from 1800 to 1870. Edited, with an 
 Introduction, by Alice Clay. 
 
 Balzac's "Comedle Humaine" and 
 
 its Author. With Translations by 
 H. H. Walker. 
 
 Melancholy Anatomised: A Popular 
 Abridgment of ** Burton's Anatomy 
 of Melancholy." 
 
 Gastronomy as a Fine Art. By 
 
 Brillat-Savarin , 
 
 The Speeches of Charles Dickens. 
 
 Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies, 
 
 and Frolics. By W. T. Dobson. 
 
 Poetical Ingenuities and Eccentrici- 
 ties. Selected and Edited by W. T. 
 
 DOBSON. 
 
 The Cupboard Papers. By Fin-Beg. 
 
 Original Plays by W. S. Gilbert. 
 First Series. Containing : The 
 Wicked World — Pygmalion and 
 Galatea — Charity — The Princess — 
 The Palace of Truth— Trial by Jury. 
 
 Original Plays by W. S. Gilbert. 
 Second Series. Containing: Broken 
 Hearts — Engaged — Sweethearts — 
 Gretchen— Dan'l Druce — Tom Cobb 
 — H.M.S. Pinafore — The Sorcerer 
 — ^The Pirates of Penzance. 
 
 Songs of Irish Wit and Humour. 
 Collected and Edited by A. Perceval 
 Graves. 
 
 Animals and their Masters. By Sir 
 
 Arthur Helps. 
 
 Social Pressure. By Sir A. Helps. 
 
 Curiosities of Criticism. By Henry 
 J. Jennings. 
 
 The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. 
 
 By Oliver Wendell Holmes. Il- 
 lustrated by J. Gordon Thomson. 
 
 Mayfair Library, continued — 
 
 Pencil and Palette. By Robert 
 
 Kempt. 
 
 Little Essays : Sketches and Charac- 
 ters. By Chas. Lamb. Selected from 
 his Letters by Percy Fitzgerald. 
 
 Forensic Anecdotes; or. Humour and 
 Curiosities of the Law and Men of 
 Law. By Jacob Larwood. 
 
 Theatrical Anecdotes. By Jacob 
 Larwood. 
 
 Jeux d'Esprit. Edited by Henry S. 
 Leigh. 
 
 True History of Joshua Davidson. 
 
 By E. Lynn Linton. 
 Witch Stories. By E. Lynn Linton. 
 Ourselves: Essays on Women. By 
 
 E. Lynn Linton. 
 
 Pastimes and Players. By Robert 
 
 Macgregor. 
 
 The New Paul and Virginia. By 
 
 W. H. Mallock. 
 New Republic. By W. H. Mallock. 
 Puck on Pegasus. By H.Cholmonde- 
 
 ley-Pennell. 
 
 Pegasus Re-Saddied. By H. Chol- 
 mondeley-Pennell. Illustrated by 
 George Du Maurier. 
 
 Muses of Mayfair. Edited by H. 
 
 Cholmondeley-Pennell. 
 
 Thoreau : His Life and Aims. By 
 H. A. Page. 
 
 Puniana. By the Hon. Hugh Rowley. 
 
 More Puniana. By the Hon. Hugh 
 Rowley. 
 
 The Philosophy of Handwriting. By 
 
 Don Felix de Salamanca, 
 
 By Stream and Sea. By William 
 
 Senior. 
 
 Old Stories Retold. By Walter 
 Thornbury. 
 
 Leaves from a Naturalist's Note- 
 Book. By Dr. Andrew Wilson. 
 
 IVIayhew. — London Ciiaracters 
 
 and the Humorous Side of London 
 Life. By Henry Mayhew. With 
 numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 IVIedlcine, Family. — One Thou- 
 sand Medical Maxims and Surgical 
 Hints, for Infancy, Adult Life, Middle 
 Age, and Old Age. By N. E. Davies, 
 L.R.C.P. Lond. Cr. 8vo, Is.; cl., ls.6d. 
 
 IVIerry Circie (Tiie) : A Book of 
 New Intellectual Games and Amuse- 
 ments. By Clara Bellew. With 
 numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra^ 4s. 6d, 
 
BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Mexican Mustang (On a), 
 
 through Texas, from the Gulf to the 
 Rio Grande. A New Book of Ameri- 
 can Humour. By Alex, E. Sweet and 
 J. Armoy Knox, Editors of " Texas 
 Siftings." With 265 lllusts. Cr. 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 73. 6d. 
 
 MicJdlemass (Jean), Novels by: 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Touch and Go. 
 Mr Dominion. 
 
 Millep. — Physiology fop the 
 
 Young; or, The House of Life: Hu- 
 man Physiology, with its application 
 to the Preservation of Health. For 
 Classes and Popular Reading. With 
 numerous lllusts. By Mrs. F. Fenwick 
 Miller. Small 8vo, clot h li mp, 2g. 6d 
 
 Miiton (J. L.), Works by: 
 
 Sm. 8vo, Is. each ; cloth ex., Is. 6d. each. 
 
 The Hygiene of the Skin. A Concise 
 Set of Rules for the Management of 
 the Skin; with Directions for Diet, 
 Wines, Soaps, Baths, &c. 
 
 The Bath in Diseases of the Skfn. 
 
 The Lav»'s of Life, and their Relation 
 to Diseases of the Skin. 
 
 Molesworth (Mrs.). — Hather- 
 
 court Rectory. By Mrs. Moles- 
 worth, Author of "The Cuckoo 
 Clock," &;c. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 4s. 6d. [In the press. 
 
 Moncpieff. — The Abdication; 
 
 or, Time Tries All. An Historical 
 Drama. By W. D. Scott-Moncrieff. 
 With Seven Etchings by John Pettie, 
 R.A., W. Q. Orchardson, R.A., J. 
 MacWhirter, A.R.A., Colin Hunter, 
 R. Macbeth, and Tom Graham. Large 
 4to, bound in buckram, 21s. 
 
 Murray (D. Christie), Novels 
 
 by. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 A Life's Atonement. 
 
 A Model Fathei'. 
 
 Joseph's Coa.t. 
 
 Coals of Fire. 
 
 By the Gate of the Sea. 
 
 Val Sti'ange. 
 
 Hearts. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. each. 
 The V/ay of the World. 
 A Bit of Human Nature. 
 
 First Person Singular: A Novel. 
 Three Vols,, cr. 8vo. 
 
 North Italian Folk. By Mrs. 
 
 CoMYNS Carr. Illustrated by Ran- 
 dolph Caldecott, Square 8vo, cloth 
 extra, 7a. 6d. 
 
 Number Nip (Stories about), 
 
 the Spirit of the Giant Mountains. 
 Retold for Children by Walter 
 Grahame. With Illustrations by J, 
 MoYR Smith. Post 8vo, cl. extra^ 53. 
 
 Nurses^y Hints: A Mother's 
 
 Guide in Health and Disease. By N. 
 E. Davies, L.R.C.P. Crown 8vo, Is. ; 
 cloth, l3. Gd. 
 
 O'Connor. — Lord Beaconsfield 
 
 A Biography. By T. P. O'Connor, M.P. 
 Sixth Edition, with a New Preface, 
 bringing the work down to the Death 
 of Lord Beaconsfield. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Oliphant (Mrs.) Novels by: 
 
 Whiteladies. With Illustrations by 
 Arthur Hopkins and H. Woods, 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d. ; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. each. 
 The Primrose Path. 
 
 The Greatest Heiress in England. 
 
 ^Shortly, 
 
 O'Hanlon. — The Unforeseen: 
 
 A Novel. By Alice O'Hanlon. Three 
 Vols., crown 8vo. 
 
 O'Reilly. — PhcBbe's Fortunes: 
 
 A Novel. With Illustrations by Henry 
 Tuck. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 O'Shaughnessy (Arth.), Works 
 
 by : 
 Songs of a Worker*. Fcap. 8vo, cloth 
 
 extra, 7s. 6d. 
 Music and IVloonllght. Fcap. 8vc:, 
 
 cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 Lays of France. Crown 8vo, clotb 
 
 extra, 10s. 6d. 
 
 Ouida, Novels by. Crown 8vo> 
 
 cloth extra, 5s. each ; post 8vo, illus- 
 trated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Held In Bondage. 
 Strath more. 
 C hand 03. 
 Under Two Flags. 
 Cecil Castle- 
 
 maine's Gage. 
 Idaila. 
 Tricotrifl. 
 Puck. 
 
 Folle Farlne. 
 TwoLittleV/ooden 
 
 Shoes. 
 
 A Dog of Flanders. 
 
 Pascarel. 
 
 Signa. 
 
 In a Winter City. 
 
 Ariadne 
 
 Friejidshlp. 
 
 iVloths. 
 
 PipistreMo. 
 
 A Village Com- 
 mune. 
 
 Bimbi. 
 
 In Maremma. 
 
 Wanda. 
 
 Frescoes. 
 
CHATTO S- WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 
 
 19 
 
 OuiDA, Novels by, continued. 
 
 Prii^cess Napraxine. Crown 8vo 
 
 cloth extra, 53. 
 
 Othmar: A Novel. Second Edition. 
 Three Vols., crown 8vo. 
 
 Wisdom, Wit, and Pathos, selected 
 from the V/orks of Ouida by F. 
 Sydney Morris. Small crown 8vo, 
 cloth e xtra, 5s. 
 
 Page (H. A.), Works by : 
 
 Thoreau : His Life and Aims : A Study. 
 With a Portrait. Post 8vo, cloth 
 limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Lights on the Way : Some Tales with- 
 in a Tale. By the late J. H. Alex- 
 ander, B.A. Edited by H. A. Page. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Pascal's Provincial Letters. A 
 
 New Translation, with Historical In- 
 troduction and Notes, by T. M'Crie, 
 D.D. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 
 
 Patient's (The) Vade Mecum: 
 
 How to get most Benefit from Medi- 
 cal Advice. By William Knight, 
 M.R.C.S., and Edward Knight, 
 L.R.C.P. Crown 8vo, Is.; cloth, ls.6d. 
 
 Paul Ferroli : 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 Paul Ferroli : A Novel. 
 Why Paul Ferroli Killed his Wife. 
 
 Paul.— Gentle and Simple. By 
 
 Margaret Agnes Paul. V/ith a 
 Frontispiece by Helen Paterson. 
 Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d, ; post 8vo, 
 illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Payn (James), Movels by. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. Q^. each; 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Lost Sir Massingberd. 
 
 The Best of Husbands. 
 
 Walter's Word. 
 
 Halves. ] Fallen Fortunes. 
 
 What He Cost Her. 
 
 Less Black than we're Painted. 
 
 By Proxy. | High Spirits. 
 
 Under One Roof. | Carlyon's Yea**. 
 
 A Confidential Agent. 
 
 Some Private Views. 
 
 A Grape from a Thorn. 
 
 For Cash Only, j From Exile. 
 
 Kit: A Memory. 
 
 The Canon's Ward. 
 
 Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 A Perfect Treasure. 
 
 Bentlnck's Tutor.llViupphy'6 IVlastep. 
 
 Payn (James), continued — 
 
 A County Family. 1 At Hei» Mercy. 
 
 A Woman's Vengeance. 
 
 Cecil's Tryst. 
 
 The ClyfTards of Clyffe. 
 
 The Family Scapegrace. 
 
 The Foster Brothers. 
 
 Found Dead. 
 
 Gwendoline's Harvest. 
 
 Humorous Stories. 
 
 Like Father, Like Son. 
 
 A Marine Residence. 
 
 Married Beneath Him, 
 
 Mirk Abbey. 
 
 Not Wooed, but Won. 
 
 Two Hundred Pounds Reward 
 
 In Peril and Privation: Stories ot 
 Marine Adventure Re-told. A Book 
 for Boys. With numerous Illustra- 
 tions. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s. 
 
 The Talk of the Town: A Novel. 
 
 With Twelve Illustrations by Harry 
 
 FuRNiss. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 
 3s. 6d. 
 
 Pears. — The Present Depres- 
 sion in Trade: Its Causes and Reme- 
 dies. Being the '* Pears" Prize Essays 
 (of One Hundred Guineas). By Edwin 
 Goadby and William Watt. With 
 an Introductory Paper by Prof. Leone 
 Levi, F.S.A. , F.S.S. Demy 8vo, Is. 
 
 Pennell (H. CholmoncJeiey), 
 Works by : 
 
 Post Svo, cloth limp, 23. 6d. each. 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. With Illustrations. 
 
 Pegasus Re-Saddled. With Ten full- 
 page lUusts. by G. Du Maurier. 
 
 The Muses of Mayfair, Vers de 
 Societe, Selected and Edited by H. 
 C. Pennell. 
 
 Phelps (E. Stuart), Works by: 
 
 Post 8vo, l3. each ; cloth limp, 
 Is. 6d. each. 
 Beyond the Gates. By the Author 
 of " The Gates Ajar." 
 
 An Old Maid's Paradise. 
 
 Pirkis (Mrs. C. L.), Novels by: 
 Trooping v/lth Crows. Fcap. Svo, 
 picture cover, Is. 
 
 Lady Lovelace. Post Svo, illustrated 
 boards, 2s. {Preparing. 
 
 Plutarch's Lives of Illustrious 
 
 Men. Translated from the Greek, 
 with Notes Critical and Historical, and 
 a Life of Plutarch, by John and 
 William Langhorne. Two Vols., 
 8yo, cloth extra, with Portraits, lOs. 6d, 
 
20 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Planche (J. R.), Works by: 
 
 The Pursuivant of Arms ; or, Her- 
 aldry Founded upon Facts. With 
 Coloured Frontispiece. and 200 Illus- 
 trations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Songs and Poems, from 1819 to 1879. 
 Edited, with an Introduction, by his 
 Daughter, Mrs. Mackarness. Crown 
 Svo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Poe (Edgar Allan): — 
 
 i The Choice Works, in Prose and 
 
 j Poetry, of Edgar Allan Poe. With 
 
 an Introductory Essay by Charles 
 Baudelaire, Portrait and Fac- 
 similes. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 The Mystery of Marie Roget, and 
 
 other Stories. Post 8vo, illust.bds.,2s. 
 
 Pope's Poetical Works. Com- 
 plete in One Vol. Post Svo, cl. limp, 2s. 
 
 Praed (Mrs. C.).— "The Right 
 
 Honourable:" A Novel. By Mrs. 
 Campbell Praed & Justin McCarthy, 
 M.P. Three Vols., cr. Svo. [In the press. 
 
 Price (E. C), Novels by: 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each, 
 
 Valentlna. | The Foreigners. 
 
 Mrs. Lancaster's Rival. 
 
 Gerald. Post Svo, illustrated boards, 
 2s. \_Preparing. 
 
 Proctor (Richd. A.), Works by ; 
 
 Flowers of the Sky. With 55 lUusts. 
 
 Small crown Svo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. 
 
 Easy Star Lessons. With Star Maps 
 for Every Night in the Year, Draw- 
 ings of the Constellations, &c. 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Familiar Science Studies. Crown 
 
 Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Saturn and Its System. New and 
 
 Revised Edition, with 13 Steel Plates. 
 Demy Svo, cloth extra, 10s. 6d. 
 
 The Great Pyramid : Observatory, 
 Tomb, and Temple. With Illus- 
 trations. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Mysteries of Time and Space. With 
 lUusts. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 The Universe of Suns, and other 
 Science Gleanings. With numerous 
 Illusts. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Wages and Wants of Science 
 Workers. Crown Svo, Is. 6d. 
 
 Pyrotechnist's Treasury (The); 
 
 or, Complete Art of Making Fireworks. 
 By Thomas Kentish. With numerous 
 Illustrations. Cr. Syo, cl. extra, 4s. ^d. 
 
 Rabelais' Works. Faithfully 
 
 Translated from the Frejich, with 
 variorum Notes, and numerous charac- 
 teristic Illustrations by .Gustavs 
 DoR^. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Rambosson. — Popular Astro- 
 nomy. By J. Rambosson, Laureate o- 
 the Institute of France. Translated by 
 C. B. Pitman. Crown Svo, cloth gilt, 
 numerous Illusts., and a beautifully 
 executed Chart of Spectra, 7s. 6d.» 
 
 Reade (Charles), Novels by : 
 
 Cr. Svo, cloth extra, illustrated, 3s.6d. 
 
 each ; post Svo, illusc. bds., 2s. each. 
 Peg Wofflngton. Illustrated by S. L. 
 
 FiLDES, A. R.A. 
 Christie Johnstone. Illustrated by 
 
 William Small. 
 It is Never Too Late to Mend. Il- 
 lustrated by G. J. PixwELL. 
 The Course of True Love Never did 
 
 run Smooth. Illustrated by Helen 
 
 Paterson. 
 The Autobiography of a Thief; Jacl< 
 
 of ail Trades; and James Lambert. 
 
 Illustrated by Matt Stretch. 
 Love me Little, Love me Long. Il- 
 lustrated by M. Ellen Edwards. 
 The Double iVIarriage. Illust. by Sir 
 
 John Gilbert, R.A. , and C. Keene. 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. Ilf 
 
 lustrated by Charles Keene. 
 Hard Cash. Illust. by F. W. Lawson. 
 Griffith Gaunt. Illustrated by S. L. 
 
 FiLDES, A.R.A., and Wm. Small. 
 Foul Play. Illust. by Du Maurier. 
 Put Yourself In His Place. Illus- 
 trated by Robert Barnes. 
 A Terrible Temptation. Illustrated 
 
 by Edv/. Hughes and A. W. Cooper. 
 The Wandering Heir. Illustrated by 
 
 H. Paterson, S. L. Fildes, A. R.A. , 
 
 C. Green, and H. Woods, A.R.A. 
 A Simpleton. Illustrated by Kate 
 
 Crauford. 
 A Woman-Hater. Illustrated by 
 
 Thos. Couldery. 
 Readiana. With a Steel-plate Portrait 
 
 of Charles Reade. 
 Singleheart and Doubieface: A 
 
 Matter-of-fact Romance. Illustrated 
 
 by P. Macnab. 
 Good Stories of IVIen and other 
 
 Animals. Illustrated by E. A. Abbey, 
 
 Percy Macquoid, and Joseph Nash. 
 The Jilt, and other Stories. Illustrated 
 
 by J o seph Nash. 
 
 Readers Handbook (The) of 
 
 Allusions, References, Plots, and 
 Stories. By the Rev. Dr. Brewer. 
 Fifth Edition, revised throughout, 
 with a New Appendix, containing a 
 Complete English Bibliography. 
 Cr, 8vo, 1,400 pages, cloth e?tra, 7s. 6(|. 
 
CHATTO S' W INDUS, PICCADILLY, 
 
 21 
 
 Richardson. A Ministry of 
 
 Health, and other Papers. By Ben- 
 jamin Ward Richardson, M.D., &c. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Russel! (W. Clark), Works by: 
 Round the Galley-Fire. Crown Svo, 
 cloth extra, 6s. ; post 8vo, illustrated 
 boards, 2s. 
 
 Riddel! (iVlrs. J. H.), Novels by: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Hep Mother's Darling. 
 
 The Prince of Wales's Garden Party 
 
 Weird Stories. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. each. 
 
 On the Fo'k'sle Head : A Collection 
 of Yarns and Sea Descriptions. 
 in the IVliddle Watch. 
 
 Sala. Gaslight and Daylight. 
 
 By George Augustus Sala. Post 
 
 Post 8vo. illustrated boards 2s each. 
 
 Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 The Uninhabited House. 
 Fairy Water. 
 
 Sanson. — Seven Generations 
 
 of Executioners: Memoirs of the 
 Sanson Family (16S8 to 1847). Edited 
 byHENRvSANsoN. Cr.8vo,cl.ex.33.6d. 
 
 Saunders (John), Novels by: 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Bound to the Wheel. 
 One Against the World. 
 Guy Waterman. 
 The Lion in the Path. 
 
 Rimmer (Alfred), Works by : 
 
 Square 8vo, cloth gilt, lOs. 6d each. 
 Our Old Country Towns. With over 
 
 50 Illustrations. 
 Rambles Round Eton and Harrow. 
 
 With 50 Illustrations. 
 About England with Dicl<ens. With 
 
 58 Illustrations by Alfred Rimmer 
 
 andC. A. Vanderhoof. 
 
 Robinson (F. W.), Novels by: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.. each ; 
 post 8vo,' illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Women are Strange. 
 
 The Hands of Justice. 
 
 The Two Dreamers. 
 
 Saunders (Katharine), Novels 
 
 by : Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 23. each. 
 
 Joan^Merryweather. 
 
 Robinson (Phil), Works by: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 The Poets' Birds. 
 
 The Poets' Beasts. 
 
 Poets' Natural History. [Preparing. 
 
 IVIargaret and Elizabeth. 
 The High Mills. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. 
 Heart Salvage. | Sebastian. 
 Gideon's Rock. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe: A beautiful 
 
 reproduction of Major's Edition, with 
 37 Woodcuts and Two Steel Plates by 
 George Cruikshank, choicely printed. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Rochefoucauld's Maxims and 
 
 Moral Reflections. With Notes, and 
 an Introductory Essay by Sainte- 
 Beuve. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 
 
 Roll of Battle Abbey, The ; or, 
 
 A List of the Principal Warriors who 
 came over from Normandy with Wil- 
 liam the Conqueror, and Settled in 
 this Country, a.d. 1066-7. With the 
 principal Arms emblazoned in Gold 
 and Colours. Handsomely printed, 5s. 
 
 Rowley (Hon. Hugh), Works by: 
 
 Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d, each. 
 Puniana: Riddles and Jokes. With 
 
 numerous Illustrations. 
 More Puniana. Profusely Illustrated. 
 
 Runciman (James), Stories by : 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each; 
 
 cloth limp, 2s. 6d each. 
 Skippers and Shellbacks. 
 Grace Baimaign's Sweetheart. 
 
 Science Gossip: An Illustrated 
 
 Medium of Interchange for Students 
 and Lovers of Nature. Edited by J. E. 
 Taylor, F.L.S., &c. Devoted to Geo- 
 logy, Botany, Physiology, Chemistry, 
 Zoology, Microscopy, Telescopy, Phy- 
 siography, &c. Price 4d. Monthly ; or 
 5s. per year, post free. Vols. I . to 
 XIV. may be had at 7s. 6d. each ; and 
 Vols. XV. to XXI. (1885), at 6s. each. 
 Cases for Binding, Is. 6d. each. 
 
 Scott's (Sir Walter) Marmion. 
 
 A New Edition of this famous Poem, 
 with over 100 new Illustrations by lead- 
 ing Artists. Small 4to, cloth extra, 163. 
 
 "Secret Out" Series, The: 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, profusely Illus- 
 trated, 4s. 6d. each. 
 The Secret Out: One Thousand 
 Tricks with Cards, and other Re- 
 creations ; with Entertaining Experi- 
 ments in Drawing-room or "White 
 Magic." By W. H. Cremer. 300 
 Engravings. 
 The Pyrotechnist's Treasury; or, 
 Complete Art of Making Fireworks. 
 By Thomas Kentish, With numer- 
 ous Illustrations. 
 
22 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 " Secret Out " Series, cordinued — 
 
 The Art of Amusing: A Collfiction of 
 
 Graceful Arts, Games,Tncks, Puzzles, 
 and Charades. By Frank Bellevv, 
 With 300 Illustrations. 
 
 Hanky-Panky: Very Easy Tricks, 
 Very Difficult Tricks, White Magic 
 Sleight of Hand. Edited by W. H. 
 Cremer. With 200 Illustrations. 
 
 The Merry Circle: A Book of New 
 Intellectual Games and Amusements. 
 By Clara Bellew. Many Illusts. 
 
 Magician's Own Book: Performances 
 with Cups and Balls, Eggs, Hats, 
 Handkerchiefs, &c. All from actual 
 Experience. Edited by W. H. Cre- 
 mer. 200 Illustrations. 
 
 Magic No Mystery : Tricks with 
 Cards, Dice, Balls, &:c., with fully 
 descriptive Directions; the Art ot 
 Secret Writing; Training of Per- 
 forming Animals, &c. With Co- 
 loured Frontis. and many Illusts. 
 
 Senior. — By Stream and Sea. 
 
 By William Senior. Post 8vo, cloth 
 limp, 2s. 6cL. 
 
 Seven Sagas (The) of Prehis- 
 toric Man. By James H, Stoddart, 
 Author of " The Village Life." Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 , — ...» — _. -^ 
 
 Shakespeare : 
 The First Folio Shakespeare.— Mr. 
 
 William Shakespeare's Comedies, 
 Histories, and Tragedies. Published 
 accordingtothetrue Originall Copies, 
 London, Printed by Isaac Iaggard 
 and Ed. Blount. 1623. — A Repro- 
 duction of the extremely rare original, 
 in reduced facsimile, by a photogra- 
 phic process — ensuring the strictest 
 accuracy in every detail. Small 8vo, 
 half-Roxburghe, 7s. 6d. 
 
 TheLansdowne Shakespeare. Beau- 
 tifully printed in red and black, in 
 small but very clear type. With 
 engraved facsimile of Droeshout's 
 Portrait. Post 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Shakespeare for Children: Tales 
 from Shakespeare. By Charles 
 and Mary Lamb. With numerous 
 Illustrations, coloured and plain, by 
 J. Moyr Smith. Cr. 4to, cl. gilt, 6s. 
 
 The Dramatic Works of Shake- 
 speare : The Text of the First 
 Edition, carefully reprinted. Eight 
 Vols,, demy 8vo, cloth boards, 40s. 
 
 The Handbook of Shakespeare 
 Music. Being an Account of 350 
 Pieces of Music, set to Words taken 
 from the Plays and Poems of Shake- 
 speare, the compositions ranging 
 from the Elizabethan Age to the 
 Present Time. By Alfred Roffe, 
 4to, half-Roxburghe, 7s. 
 
 Shakespeare, continued — 
 
 A Study of Shakespeare. By Alger- 
 non Charles Sv/inburne. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, 83. 
 
 Shelley's Complete Works, in 
 
 Four Vols., post 8vo, cloth limp, 8s. ; 
 or separately, 2s. each. Vol. I. con- 
 tains his Early Poems, Queen Mab, 
 &c., with an Introduction by Leigh 
 Hunt; Vol. II., his Later Poems, 
 Laon and Cythna, &c. ; Vol. III., 
 Posthumous Poems.the Shelley Papers, 
 &c. ; Vol. IV., his Prose Works, in- 
 cluding A Refutation of Deism, Zas- 
 trozzi, St. Irvyne, &c. 
 
 Sheridan :— 
 
 Sheridan's Complete Works, 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, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Sheridan's Comedies: The Rivals, 
 and The School for Scandal. 
 
 Edited, with an Introduction and 
 Notes to each Play, and a Bio- 
 graphical Sketch of Sheridan, by 
 Brander Matthews. With Decora- 
 tive Vignettes and lofuU-page Illusts. 
 Demy 8vo, half-parchment, i2s. 6d. 
 
 Short Sayings of Great Men. 
 
 With Historical and Explanatory 
 Notes by Samuel A. Bent, M.A. 
 Demy 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Sidney's (Sir Philip) Complete 
 Poetical Works, including all those in 
 •' Arcadia." With Portrait, Memorial- 
 Introduction, Notes, &c., by the Rev. 
 A. B. Grosart, D.D. Three Vols., 
 crown 8vo, cloth boards, 18s. 
 
 Signboards: Their History. 
 With Anecdotes of Famous Taverns 
 and Remarkable Characters. By 
 Jacob Larwood and John Camden 
 Hotten. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 with 100 Illustrations, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Sims (George R.), Works by : 
 
 How t^he Poor Live. With 60 Illusts. 
 
 by Fred. Barnard. Large 4to, Is. 
 Rogues and Vagabonds. Post 8vo, 
 
 illust. boards, 2s. ; cloth limp, 2s. 6d. 
 The Ring o' Bells. Post 8vo, illust. 
 
 bds., 2s. ; cloth, 2s, 6d. [/« the press. 
 
 Sketchley.— A Match in the 
 
 Dark. By Arthur Sketchley, Post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
CHATTO & W INDUS, PICCADILLY, 
 
 23 
 
 Slang Dictionary, The: Ety- 
 mological, Historical, and Anecdotal. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 6s. 6(i. 
 
 Smith (J. Moyp), WopI<s by : 
 
 The Prince of Argolls: A Story of the 
 Old Greek Fairy Time. Small 8vo, 
 cloth extra, with 130 Illusts., 3s. 6ct. 
 
 Tales of Old Thule. With numerous 
 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth gilt,6s. 
 
 The Wooing of the Watep Witch : 
 A Northern Oddity. With numerous 
 Illustrations. Small 8vo, cl. ex., 63. 
 
 Society in London. By A 
 
 Foreign Resident. Newand Cheaper 
 (the Ninth) Edition, Revised, with a 
 Nev/ Chapter on Society among the 
 Middle and Professionai. Classes. 
 Crown Svo, Is.; cloth, Is. 6 d. 
 
 Spaiding.-EHzabethan Demon- 
 
 ology : An Essay in Illustration of the 
 Belief in the Existence of Devils, and 
 the Powers possessed by Them. By T. 
 Alfred Spalding, LL.B. Crown Svo, 
 cloth extr a, 5s. 
 
 Spanish Legendary Tales. By 
 
 Mrs. S. G. C. MiDDLEMORE, Author of 
 *' Round a Posada Fire." Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 63. 
 
 Speight (T. W.), Novels by: 
 
 The rviysteples of Heron Dyke. 
 
 With a Frontispiece by M. Ellen 
 Edwards. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 3s. 6d, ; post 8vo, illustrated bds., 2s. 
 A BsiVPen Title. Demy 8vo, illus- 
 trate d cover, Is. 
 
 Spensep for Children. By M. 
 
 H. TowRY. With Illustrations by 
 Walter J. Morgan. Crown 4to, with 
 Coloured Illustrations, cloth gilt, 6s. 
 
 Staunton. — Lav/sand Practice 
 
 of Chess; Together with an Analysis 
 of the Openings, and a Treatise on 
 End Games. By Howard Staunton. 
 Editedby Robert B. Wormald. New 
 Edition, small cr. Svo, cloth extra, 5s. 
 
 Stedman. — The Poets of 
 
 America. With full Notes in Margin, 
 and careful Analytical Index. By 
 Edmund Clarence Stedman, Author 
 of " Victorian Poets." Cr. 8vo,cl.ex., 93. 
 
 Sterndale. — The Afghan Knife: 
 
 ANovel. By Robert Armitage Stern- 
 dale. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. Gd.; post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Stevenson (R.Louis), Works by : 
 
 Travels with a Donkey In the 
 
 Cevennes. Frontispiece by Walter 
 
 Crane. Post Svo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.. 
 
 Stevenson (R. Louis), continued— 
 An Inland Voyage. With Front, by 
 
 W. Crane. Post 8vo, cl. Ip., 2S. 6d. 
 Virgin ibus Puerisque, and other 
 
 Papers. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6S. 
 Familiar Studies of Men and Books. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 New Arabian Nights. Crown 8vo, 
 
 cl. extra, 6s. ; post Svo, illust. bds., 23. 
 The Silverado Squatters. With 
 
 Frontispiece. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 63. 
 Prince Otto: A Romance. Second 
 
 Edition. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 St. John. — A Levantine Family. 
 
 By Bayle St. Jopin. Post 8vo, illus- 
 trated boards, 2s. 
 
 Stoddard. — Summer* Cruising 
 
 in the South Seas. By Charles 
 Warren Stoddard. Illust, by Wallis 
 Mackay. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Stories from Foreign Novel- 
 ists. With Notices of their Lives and 
 •Writings. By Helen and Alice Zim- 
 mern. Frontispiece. Crown Svo, cloth 
 extra, 3s. 6d. ; post Svo, illust. bds., 2s. 
 
 St. Pierre. — Paul and Virginia, 
 
 and The Indian Cottage. By Ber- 
 nardin St. Pierre. Edited, with Life, 
 by Rev. E. Clarke. Post Svo, cl. Ip., 2s. 
 
 Strutt's Sports and Pastimes 
 of the People of England; including 
 the Rural and Domestic Recreations, 
 May Games, Mummeries, Shows, &c., 
 from the Earliest Period to the Present 
 Time. With 140 Illustrations. Edited 
 by William Hone. Crown Svo, cloth 
 extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Suburban Homes (The) of 
 
 London : 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.,7s.6d. 
 
 Swift's Choice Works, in Prose 
 
 and Verse. With Memoir, Portrait, 
 and Facsimiles of the Maps in the 
 Original Edition of " Gulliver's 
 Travels." Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Swinburne (Algernon C), 
 
 Works by: 
 The Queen IVIothep and Rosamond. 
 
 Fcap. Svo, 5s. 
 Atalanta in Calydon. Crov/n Svo, 6s. 
 Chaste lard. A Tragedy. Cr. Svo, 7s. 
 Poems and Ballads. First Series. 
 
 Fcap. Svo, 93. Cr. Svo, same price. 
 Poems and Ballads. Second Series. 
 
 Fcap. Svo, 9s. Cr. Svo, same price. 
 Notes on Poems and Reviews. 8vo,ls. 
 Songs before Sunrise. Cr. Svo, lOs.Sd. 
 Bothwell: ATragedy. Cr.8yo,12s.6d. 
 
M 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Swinburne's (A. C.) Works, continued. 
 George Chapman : An Essay. Crown 
 
 8vo, 7s. 
 Songs of Two Nations. Cr. 8vo, 63. 
 Essays and Studies. Crown 8vo, 12s. 
 Epechtheus: A Tragedy. Cr. 8vo, 6s. 
 Note of an English Republican on 
 
 the Muscovite Crusade. 8vo, Is. 
 A Note on Charlotte Bronte. Crown 
 
 8vo, 6s. 
 A Study of Shakespeare. Cr. 8vo, 8s. 
 Songs of the Springtides. Cr. 8vo, 6s. 
 Studies in Song. Crown 8vo, 7s. 
 Mary Stuart : A Tragedy. Cr. 8vo, 8s. 
 Tristram of Lyonesse, and other 
 
 Poems. Crown 8vo, 9s. 
 ACentury of Roundels. Small 4to, 8s. 
 A Midsummer Holiday, and other 
 
 Poems. Crown 8vo, 7s. 
 Marino Faliero: ATragedy. Cr.8vo,6s. 
 A Study of Victor Hugo. Crown 8vo, 
 
 6s. [Shortly. 
 
 Symonds. — Wine, Women and 
 
 Song: Mediaeval Latin Students' 
 Songs. Now first translated into Eng- 
 lish Verse, with Essay by J. Addington 
 Symonds. Small 8vo, parchment, 6s. 
 
 Syntax's (Dr.) Three Tours : 
 
 In Search of the Picturesque, in Search 
 of Consolation, and in Search of a 
 Wife. With the whole of Rowland- 
 son's droll page Illustrations in Colours 
 and a Life of the Author by J. C. 
 HoTTEN. Med. 8vo, cloth extra, IB. 6d. 
 
 Taine's History of English 
 
 Literature. Translated by Henry 
 Van Laun. Four Vols., small 8vo, 
 cloth boards, 30s. — Popular Edition, 
 Two Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, 15s. 
 
 rayior's (Bayard) Diversions 
 
 of the Echo Club: Burlesques of 
 Modern Writers. PostSvo, cl. limp, 2s. 
 
 Taylor (Dr. J. E., F.L.S.), Works 
 
 by : Crown 8vo, cloth ex., 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 The Sagacity and Morality of 
 Plants : A Sketch of the Life and 
 Conduct of the Vegetable Kingdom. 
 Coloured Frontispiece and loo Illust. 
 
 Our Common British Fossils, and 
 Where to Find Them : A Handbook 
 for Students. With 331 Illustrations. 
 
 Taylor's (Tom) Historical 
 
 Dramas: "Clancarty," "Jeanne 
 Dare," " 'Twixt Axe and Crown/' " The 
 Fool's Revenge," '* Arkwright's Wife/* 
 •'Anne Boleyn,'' " Plot and Passion.'' 
 One Vol., cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 *if* The Plays may also be had sepa- 
 r ately, at Is. each. 
 
 Tennyson (Lord): A Biogra- 
 phical Sketch. By H. J. Jennings. 
 With a Photograph-Portrait. Crown 
 Svo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Thackerayana: Notes and Anec- 
 dotes. Illustrated by Hundreds of 
 Sketches by William Makepeace 
 Thackeray, 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, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Thomas (Bertha), Novels by: 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 Cressida. | Proud Maisle. 
 The Vio lin-Player. 
 
 Thomas (M.).— A Fight for Life : 
 
 A Novel. By W. Moy Thomas. Post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Thomson's Seasons and Castle 
 
 of Indolence. With a Biographical 
 and Critical Introduction by Allan 
 Cunningham, and over 50 fine Illustra- 
 tions on Steel and Wood. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, gilt edges, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Thornbury (Walter), Works by 
 
 Haunted London. Edited by Ed- 
 ward Walford, M.A. With Illus- 
 trations by F. W. Fairholt, F.S.A. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 The Life and Correspondence of 
 J. M. W. Turner. 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, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Old Stories Re-told. Post 8vo, cloth 
 limp, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Tales for tiie Marines. Post Svo, 
 illustrated boards, 23. 
 
 Timbs (John), Works by: 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 The History of Clubs and Club Life 
 in London. With Anecdotes of its 
 Famous Coffee-houses, Hostelries, 
 and Taverns. With many Illusts. 
 
 English Eccentrics and Eccen- 
 tricities: Stories of Wealth and 
 Fashion, Delusions, Impostures, and 
 Fanatic Missions, Strange Sights 
 and Sporting Scenes, Eccentric 
 Artists, Theatrical Folk, Men of 
 Letters, &c. With nearlv 50 Illusts. 
 
 Trollope (Anthony), Novels by: 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 The Way We Live Now. 
 
 Kept in the Dark. 
 
 Frau Frohmann, [ Marlon Fay. 
 
 Mr. Scarborough's Family. 
 
 The Land-Leaguers. 
 
 Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 The Golden Lion of Granpere. 
 John Caldigate. | American Senatop 
 
CHATTO (S* WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 
 
 25 
 
 Trollope(FrancesE.),Novelsby 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.. each ; 
 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 Like Ships upon tlie Sea. 
 
 Mabel's Progress. I Anne Furness. 
 
 Tpollope(T. A.). — Diamond Cut 
 
 Diamond, and other Stories. By 
 T. Adolphus Trollope. Cr. 8vo, cl. 
 ex., 3s. 6d. ; post 8vo, illust. boards. 2s. 
 
 Trowbridge. — Farnell's Folly : 
 
 A Novel. By J. T. Trowbridge. Post 
 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. [Preparing, 
 
 Turgenieff. — Stories from 
 
 Foreign Novelists. By Ivan Turge- 
 NiEFF, and others. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 
 3s. €d.; post Svo, illustrated boards, 2s. 
 
 Tytler (C. C. Fraser-). — Mis- 
 tress Judith: A Novel. By C. C. 
 Fraser-Tytler. Cr. Svo, cloth extra, 
 3s. 6d. ; post Svo, illust. boards, 2s^ 
 
 Tytler (Sarah), Novels by: 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; 
 post Svo, illustrated boards, 23. each. 
 
 What She Came Through. 
 
 The Bride's Pass. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 Saint Mungo's City. 
 
 Beauty and the Beast. With a 
 
 Frontispiece by P. Macnab. 
 Noblesse Oblige. With Illustrations. 
 
 Edited by F. A. Fraser. 
 CItoyenne Jacqueline. Illustrated 
 
 by A. B. Houghton. 
 The Huguenot Family. With Illusts. 
 Lady Bell . Illustrated by R . Macbeth. 
 
 Buried Diamonds: A Novel. Three 
 Vols., crown Svo. [^Shortly. 
 
 Van Laun.— History of French 
 
 Literature. By H. Van Laun. Three 
 Vols., demy Svo , cl. bds., 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 Villari. — A Double Bond: A 
 
 Story. By Linda Villari. Fcap. 
 Svo, picture cover. Is. 
 
 Walford (Ed w., M^.),Works by: 
 The County Families of the United 
 Kingdom: Containing Notices of 
 the Descent, Birth, Marriage, Educa- 
 tion, &c., of more than 12,000 dis- 
 tinguished Heads of Families, their 
 Heirs Apparent or Presumptive, the 
 Offices they hold or have held, their 
 Town and Country Addresses, Clubs, 
 &c. Twenty-sixth Annual Edition, 
 for 1886, cloth gilt, 50s. [Preparing. 
 The Shilling Peerage (1886). Con- 
 taining an Alphabetical List of the 
 House of Lords, Dates of Creation, 
 Lists of Scotch and Irish Peers, 
 Addresses, &c, 32mo, cloth, Is. 
 Published ann::all>. [Preparing. 
 
 Walford's (Edw.) Works, continued — 
 
 The Shilling Baronetage (1886). 
 Containing an Alphabetical List of 
 the Baronets of the United Kingdom, 
 short Biographical Notices, Dates 
 of Creation, Addresses, &c. 32mo, 
 cloth, Is. [Preparing. 
 
 The Shilling Knightage (1886). Con- 
 taining an Alphabetical List of the 
 Knights of the United Kingdom, 
 short Biographical Notices, Dates 
 of Creation, Addresses, &c. 32mo, 
 cloth, Is. [Preparing. 
 
 The Shilling House of Commons 
 (1886). Containing a List of all the 
 Members of Parliament, their Town 
 and Country Addresses, &c. 32mo, 
 cloth. Is. Published annually. 
 
 The Complete Peerage, Baronet- 
 age, Knightage, and House of 
 Commons (1886). In One Volume, 
 royal 32mo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 
 5s. [Preparing 
 
 Haunted London. By Walter 
 
 Thornbury. Edited by Edward 
 Walford, M.A. With Illustrations 
 by F. W. Fairholt, F.S.A. Crown 
 Svo, cloth extra, 73. 6d. 
 
 Walton andCotton'sComplete 
 
 Angler; or. The Contemplative Man's 
 Recreation ; being a Discourse of 
 Rivers, Fishponds, Fish and Fishing, 
 written by Izaak Walton ; and In- 
 structions how to Angle for a Trout or 
 Grayling in a clear Stream, by Charles 
 Cotton. With Original Memoirs and 
 Notes by Sir Harris Nicolas, and 
 61 Copperplate Illustrations. Large 
 crown Svo, cloth antique, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Wanderer's Library, The: 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. 
 
 Wanderings In Patagonia; or. Life 
 among the Ostrich-Hunters. By 
 Julius Beerbohm. Illustrated. 
 
 Camp Notes: Stories of Sport and 
 Adventure in Asia, Africa, and 
 America. By Frederick Boyle. 
 
 Savage Life. By Frederick Boyle. 
 
 Merrie England In the Olden Time 
 By George Daniel. With Illustra- 
 tions by RoBT. Cruikshank. 
 
 Circus Life and Circus Celebrities. 
 By Thomas Frost. 
 
 The Lives of the Conjurers. By 
 Thomas Frost. 
 
 The Old Showmen and the Old 
 London Fairs. By Thomas Frost. 
 
 Low- Life Deeps. An Account of the 
 Strange Fish to be found there. By 
 James Greenwood. 
 
 The Wilds of London. By James 
 Greenwood. 
 
 Tunis: The Land and the People. 
 By the Chevalier de Hesse-War- 
 TEGG. With 22 lilustratioas. 
 
26 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED B? 
 
 Wanderer's Library, The, contimicd-— 
 
 The Life and Adventures of a Cheap 
 Jack. By One of the Fraternity. 
 Edited by Charles Hindley. 
 
 The World Behind the Scenes. By 
 PiVRCY Fitzgerald. 
 
 Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings: 
 Including the Origin of Signs, and 
 Reminiscences connected with Ta- 
 verns, Coffee Houses, Clubs, &c. 
 By Charles Hindley. With Illusts. 
 
 The Genial Showman: Life and Ad- 
 ventures of Artemus Ward. ByE. P. 
 Kingston. With a Frontispiece. 
 
 The Story of the London Parks. 
 By Jacob Larwood. With Illusts. 
 
 London Characters. By Henry May- 
 hew. Illustrated. 
 
 Seven Generations of Executioners : 
 Memoirs of the Sanson Family (1688 
 to 1847). Edited by Henry Sanson. 
 
 Summer Cruising in the South 
 Seas. By C. Warren Stoddard. 
 Illustrated by Wallis Mackay. 
 
 Warner. — A Roundabout Jour- 
 ney. By Charles Dudley Warner, 
 Author of " My Summer in a Garden." 
 Crov/n 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 Warrants, &c. :— 
 Warrant to Execute Charles I. An 
 
 exact Facsimile, with the Fifty-nine 
 Signatures, and corresponding Seals. 
 Carefully printed on paper to im.itate 
 the Origmal, 22 in. by 14 in. Price 2s. 
 
 Warrant to Execute Mary Queen of 
 Scots. An exact Facsimile, includ- 
 ing the Signature of Queen Eliza- 
 beth, and a Facsimile of the Great 
 Seal. Beautifully printed on paper 
 to imitate the Original MS. Price 2s. 
 
 Magna Charta. 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. 
 Price 5s. 
 
 The Roll of Battle Abbey; or, A List 
 of the Principal Warriors who came 
 over from Normandy with William 
 the Conqueror, and Settled in this 
 Country, a.d. 1066-7. With the 
 principal Arms emblazoned in Gold 
 and Colours. Price 5s. 
 
 Weather^How to Foretell the, 
 
 with the Pocket Spectroscope. By 
 F. W. Cory, M.R.C.S. Eng., F.R.Met. 
 Soc, &c. With 10 Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo, Is, ; cloth. Is. 6d. 
 
 Westropp. — Handbook of Pot- 
 tery and Porcelain ; or, History of 
 those Arts from the Earliest Period. 
 By Hodder M. Westropp. With nu- 
 merous Illustrations, and a List of 
 Marks. Crown 8vo, cloth limp, 4s. 6(3.. 
 
 VVhistler(Mr.)~''Ten o'clock." 
 
 Uniform with his " Whistler v. Rus- 
 kin." Crown 8v o, Is. [Shortly. 
 
 Williams (WTlVlatt feu, F.R.ATsTjT; 
 
 V/orks by : 
 Science Notes. See the Gentleman's 
 
 Magazine. Is. Monthly. 
 Science in Short Chapters. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6(i. 
 A Simple Treatise on Heat. Crown 
 
 8vo, cloth limp, with Illusts., 2s. 6d. 
 The Chemistry of Cookery. Crown 
 8yo, clot h ext ra, 6s. 
 
 Wilson ("DrTAlTdl^ew, F.'R.S.£lj7 
 
 Works by: 
 
 Chapters on Evolution: A Popular 
 History of the Darwinian and 
 Allied Theories of Development. 
 Second Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 extra, with 259 Illustrations, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Leaves from a Naturalist's Note 
 book. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.. 
 
 Leisure-Time Studies, chiefly Bio- 
 logical. Third Edit., with New Pre- 
 face. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., with Illusts,, 6s. 
 
 Studies In Life and Sense. With 
 numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 6s. [^Preparing. 
 
 Common Accidents, and How to 
 Treat them. By Dr. Andrew Wil- 
 son and others. With numerous Il- 
 lustrations. Crown 8vo, Is. ; cloth 
 limp^3._6d. ^Pre paring. 
 
 Winter (J. S.), Stories by : 
 
 Cavalry Life. Post 8vo, illust. bds., 2s. 
 
 Regimental Legends. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post Svo, illus- 
 trated boards, 2s. 
 
 Women of the Day: A Biogra- 
 phical Dictionary of Notable Contem- 
 poraries. By Frances Hays. Crown 
 8vo , cloth extra, 5s. 
 
 WoodTI^Sabina: A Novel. By 
 
 Lady Wood. Post Svo, illust. b ds., 2s. 
 
 Words, Facts, and Phr^^ases: 
 
 A Dictionary of Curious, Quaint, and 
 Out-of-the-Way Matters. By Eliezer 
 Edwards. New and cheaper issue 
 __cr^8vo,cl^ejf.^S. 6d. ; half- bound , 03.' 
 
 Wright (Thomas), WorksHbyr 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 Caricature History of the Georges. 
 (The House of Hanover.) With 400 
 Pictures, Caricatures, Squibs, Broad- 
 sides, Window Pictures, &c. 
 
 History of Caricature and of the 
 Grotesque in Art, Literature, 
 Sculpture, and Painting. Profusely 
 Illustr ated j)y F.W. Fairholt,F.S.A. 
 
 Yates (Edmund), Nove!s~1by7~ 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 Castaway. | The Forlorn Hope. 
 Land at Last. 
 
CHAftO & W INDUS, PICCADtLLY, 
 
 2? 
 
 NEW THREE-VOLUME NOVELS. 
 
 OUIDA'S NEW NOVEL. 
 Othmap. (A Sequel to "Princess Na- 
 praxine.") By Ouida, Three Vols., 
 crown 8vo. 
 
 CHRISTIE MURRAY'S NEW NOVEL 
 
 First Person Singular. By D. Christie 
 Murray, Author of "Joseph's Coat," 
 &c. Three Vols., crown 8yo. 
 
 MISS O'HANLON'S NEW NOVEL. 
 The Unforeseen. By AliceO'Hanlon. 
 Three Vols., crown 8vo. 
 
 SARAH TYTLER'S NEW NOVEL. 
 
 Buried Diamonds. By Sarah Tytler, 
 Author of " Saint Mungo's City," &c. 
 Three Vols., crown 8vo. [Shortly 
 
 JUSTIN MCCARTHY'S NEW NO VEL 
 
 Camiola. By Justin McCarthy, 
 
 Author of *' Dear Lady Disdain," &c. 
 
 Three Vols., crown 8vo. 
 
 NEW NOVEL BY MRS. CAMPBELL 
 PR A ED & JUSTIN MCCARTHY. 
 
 " The Right Honourable." Three Vols., 
 Crown 8vo. 
 
 THE PICCAD 
 
 Popular Stories by the Best Authors, 
 crown 8to, cloth 
 
 BY MRS. ALEXANDER. 
 Maid, Wife, or Widow ? 
 
 BY GRANT ALLEN. 
 Pliilistia. 
 
 BY BASIL. 
 A Drawn Game. 
 "The Wearing of the Gi^ecn." 
 
 BY V/. BESANT & JAMES RICE. 
 Ready-Money Mortiboy. 
 My Little Girl. 
 The Case of Mr. Lucraft. 
 This Son of Vulcan. 
 With Harp and Crown. 
 The Golden Butterfly. 
 By Celia's Arbour. 
 The Monks of Thelema. 
 'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay. 
 The Seamy Side. 
 The Ten Years' Tenant. 
 The Chaplain of the Fleet. 
 
 BY WALTER BESANT. 
 All Sorts and Conditions of Men. 
 The Captains' Room. 
 Ail in a Garden Fair. 
 Dorothy Forster. 
 Uncle Jack. 
 
 BY ROBERT BUCHANAN. 
 A Child of Nature. 
 God and the Man. 
 The Shadow of the Sword. 
 The Martyrdom of Madeline. 
 Love Me for Ever. 
 Annan Water. 
 Matt. 
 
 ILLY NOVELS. 
 
 Library Editions, many Illustrated, 
 extra, 33. 6(1. each. 
 
 BY HALL CAINE. 
 The Shadow of a Crime. 
 
 BY MRS. H. LOVETT CAMERON. 
 Deceivers Ever. | Juliet's Guardian. 
 
 BY MORTIMER COLLINS. 
 Sweet Anne Page. 
 Transmigration. 
 From Midnight to Midnight. 
 
 MORTIMER & FRANCES COLLINS. 
 Blacksmith and Scholar. 
 The Village Comedy. 
 You Play me False. 
 
 BY WILKIE COLLINS. 
 
 The New Abelard. 
 Foxglove Manor. 
 
 The Master of the Mine. 
 
 Antonina. 
 Basil. 
 
 Hide and Seek. 
 The Dead Secret. 
 Queen of Hearts. 
 My Miscellanies. 
 Woman \n White. 
 The Moonstone. 
 Man and Wife. 
 Poor Miss Finch. 
 
 New Magdalen. 
 The Frozen Deep. 
 The Law and the 
 
 Lady. 
 TheTwo Destinies 
 Haunted Hotel. 
 The Fallen Leaves 
 Jezebel 'sDaughter 
 The Black Robe. 
 Heart and Science 
 I Say No. 
 
 Miss or Mrs. ? 
 
 BY DUTTON COOK. 
 Paul Foster's Daughter. 
 
 BY WILLIAM CYPLES. 
 Hearts of Gold. 
 
 BY ALPHONSE DAUDET. 
 Port Salvation. 
 
 BY JAMES DE MILLE. 
 A Castle In Spain. 
 
28 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Piccadilly Novels, contimied — 
 BY J LEITH DERWENT. 
 Oup Lady of Tears. | Circe's Lovers. 
 
 BY M. BETHAM-EDWARDS. 
 Felicia. 1 Kitty. 
 
 BY MRS. ANNIE EDWARDES. 
 Archie Lovell. 
 
 BY R. E. FRANCILLON. 
 Olympla. I One by One. 
 
 Queen Cophetua. I A Real Queen. 
 
 Prefaced by Sir BARTLE PRE RE. 
 Pandurang Harl. 
 
 BY EDWARD GARRETT. 
 The Capel Girls. 
 
 BY CHARLES GIBBON. 
 Robin Gray. | For Lack of Gold. 
 In Love and War. 
 What will the World Say? 
 In Honour Bound. 
 Queen of the Meadow. 
 The Flower of the Forest. 
 A Heart's Problem. 
 The Braes of Yarrow. 
 
 The Golden Shaft. 
 Fancy Free. 
 A Hard Knot. 
 
 Of High Degree. 
 Loving a Dream. 
 
 BY THOMAS HARDY, 
 Under the Greenwood Tree. 
 
 BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE, 
 Garth. | Elllce Quentln. 
 
 Sebastian Strome. 
 Prince Saroni's Wife. 
 Dust. I Fortune's Fool. 
 
 Beatrix Randolph. 
 Miss Cadogna. 
 Love — or a Name. 
 
 BY SIR A. HELPS, 
 Ivan de Biron. 
 
 BY MRS. CASHEL HOEY, 
 The Lover's Creed. 
 
 BY MRS. ALFRED HUNT, 
 Thornicroft's Model. 
 The Leaden Casket. 
 Self-Condemned. 
 
 BY JEAN INGELOW, 
 Fated to be Free. 
 
 BY HARRIETT JAY. 
 The Queen of Connaught 
 
 BY HENRY KINGSLEY, 
 Number Seventeen. 
 
 Piccadilly Novels, cmitinued—' 
 BY E. LYNN LINTON, 
 Patricia Kemball. 
 Atonement of Learn Dundas. 
 The World Well Lost. 
 Under which Lord P 
 With a Silken Thread. 
 The Rebel of the Family 
 "My Love!" I lone. 
 
 BY HENRY W. LUCY. 
 Gideon Fleyce. 
 
 BY JUSTIN McCarthy, m.p. 
 
 The'Waterdale Neighbours. 
 
 My Enemy's Daughter. 
 
 Linley Rochford. | A Fair Saxon. 
 
 Dear Lady Disdain. 
 
 Miss Misanthrope. | DonnaQuixote. 
 
 The Comet of a Season. 
 
 Maid of Athens. 
 
 BY GEORGE MACDONALD 
 Paul Faber, Surgeon. 
 Thomas Wingfold, Curate. 
 
 BY MRS. MACDONELL. 
 Quaker Cousins. 
 
 BY FLORENCE MARRY AT. 
 Open ! Sesame ! | Written in Fire 
 
 BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY. 
 
 Coals of Fire. 
 Val Strange. 
 Hearts. 
 
 Life's Atonement. 
 
 Joseph's Coat. 
 
 A Model Father. 
 
 By the Gate of the Sea 
 
 The Way of the World. 
 
 A Bit of Human Nature. 
 
 BY MRS, OLIPHANT, 
 Whiteladies. 
 
 BY MARGARET A. PAUL. 
 Gentle and Simple. 
 
 BY JAMES PAYN. 
 
 Lost Sir Massing- 
 
 berd. 
 Best of Husbands 
 Fallen Fortunes. 
 Halves. 
 
 Walter's Word. 
 What He Cost Her 
 Less Black than 
 
 We're Painted. 
 By Proxy. 
 High Spirits. 
 Under One Roof. 
 Carlyon's Year. 
 
 A Confidential 
 Agent. 
 
 From Exile. 
 
 A Grape from a 
 Thorn. 
 
 For Cash Only. 
 
 Some Private 
 
 Views. 
 Kit : A Memory. 
 
 The Canon's 
 Ward. 
 
 The Talk of the 
 Town. 
 
CnAttO 6- WWDUS, PICCADILLY. 
 
 «9 
 
 Piccadilly Novels, continued — 
 BY E. C. PRICE, 
 Valentlna. I The Foreigners. 
 
 Mrs. Lancaster's Rival. 
 
 BY CHARLES READE, 
 It Is Never Too Late to Mend. 
 Hard Cash. 
 Peg Wofflngton. 
 Christie John«$tone. 
 Griffith Gaunt. | Foul Play. 
 The Double Marriage. 
 Love Me Little, Love Me Long. 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 The Course of True Love. 
 The Autobiography of a Thief. 
 Put Yourself In His Place. 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 The Wandering Heir. I A Simpleton. 
 A Woman-Hater. I Readiana. 
 Singieheart and Doubleface. 
 The Jilt. 
 
 Good Stories of Men and other 
 Animals. 
 
 BY MRS. J. H. RIDDELL, 
 Her Mother's Darling. 
 Prince of Wales's Garden-Party. 
 Weird Stories. 
 
 BY F. W. ROBINSON. 
 Women are Strange. 
 The Hands of Justice. 
 
 BY JOHN SAUNDERS. 
 Bound to the Wheel. 
 Guy Waterman. 
 Two Dreamers. 
 One Against the World. 
 The Lion In the Path. 
 
 Piccadilly Novels, continued — 
 BY KATHARINE SAUNDERS. 
 Joarr Merryweather. 
 Margaret and Elizabeth. 
 
 Heart Salvage. 
 Sebastian. 
 
 Gideon's Rock. 
 The High Mills. 
 
 BY T. W. SPEIGHT. 
 The Mysteries of Heron Dyke. 
 
 BY R. A. STERNDALE. 
 The Afghan Knife. 
 
 BY BERTHA THOMAS. 
 Proud Maisie. | Cresslda. 
 The Violin-Player. 
 
 BY ANTHONY TROLLOPS. 
 The Way we Live Now. 
 Frau Frohmann. I Marlon Fay. 
 Kept in the Dark. 
 Mr. Scarborough's Family. 
 The Land Leaguers. 
 
 BY FRANCES E. TROLLOPE. 
 Like Ships upon the Sea. 
 Anne Furness. 
 Mabel's Progress. 
 
 BY T. A. TROLLOPE. 
 Diamond Cut Diamond. 
 
 By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c. 
 Stories from Foreign Novelists. 
 
 BY SARAH TYTLER. 
 What She Came Through. 
 The Bride's Pass. 
 Saint Mungo's City. 
 Beauty and the Beast. 
 
 BY C. C. FRASER-TYTLER, 
 Mistress Judith. 
 
 BY J. S. WINTER, 
 Cavalry Life. 
 
 Regimental Legends. 
 
 CHEAP EDITIONS OF 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated 
 
 BY EDMOND ABOUT, 
 The Fellah. 
 
 BY HAMILTON Awi. 
 Carr of Carrlyon. | Confidences. 
 
 BY MRS. ALEXANDER. 
 Maid, Wife, or Widow P 
 Valerie's Fate. 
 
 BY SHELSLEY BEAUCHAMP. 
 Grantley Grange. 
 
 BY W. BESANT & JAMES RICE, 
 
 Ready-Money Mortlboy. 
 
 With Harp and Crown. 
 
 This Son of Vulcan. | My LIttI© Girl. 
 
 The Case of Mr. Lucraft. 
 
 POPULAR NOVELS. 
 
 boards, 2s. each. 
 
 By Besant and Rice, continued^» 
 
 The Golden Butterfly. 
 
 By Cella's Arbour. 
 
 The Monks of Thelema. 
 
 'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay. 
 
 The Seamy Side. 
 
 The Ten Years' Tenant. 
 
 The Chaplain of the Fleet. 
 
 BY WALTER BESANT. 
 All Sorts and Conditions of Metlo 
 The Captains' Room. 
 All In a Garden Fair. 
 
 BY FREDERICK BOYLE. 
 Camp Notes. I Savage Life. 
 Chronicles of No-man's Land. 
 
30 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED Bf 
 
 Cheap Popular Novels, continued-^ 
 BY BRET HARTE, 
 
 • 
 
 An Heiress of Red Dog. 
 The Luck of Roaring Camp. 
 Californlan Stories. 
 Gabriel Conroy. | Flip. 
 Maruja. 
 
 BY ROBERT BUCHANAN, 
 
 of 
 
 Tiie Martyrdom 
 
 of Madeiine. 
 Annan Water. 
 The New Abelard. 
 
 Tlie Shiadow 
 the Sword. 
 A Child of Nature. 
 God and the Man. 
 Love l\fle for Ever. 
 
 BY MRS. BURNETT^ 
 Surly Tim. 
 
 BY MRS. LOVETT CAMERON. 
 Deceivers Ever. | Juliet's Guardian. 
 
 BY M ACL A REN COBBAN, 
 The Cure of Souls. 
 
 BY C. ALLSTON COLLINS. 
 The Bar Sinister. 
 
 BY WILKIE COLLINS. 
 
 Antonina. 
 Basil. 
 
 Hide and Seek. 
 The Dead Secret. 
 Queen of Hearts. 
 My Miscellanies. 
 Woman in White. 
 The Moonstone. 
 Man and Wife. 
 Poor Miss Finch. 
 
 Miss or Mrs.? 
 New Magdalen. 
 The Frozen Deep. 
 Law and the Lady. 
 TheTwo Destinies 
 Haunted Hotel. 
 The Fallen Leaves. 
 Jezebel'sDaughter 
 The Black Robe. 
 Heart and Science 
 
 BY MORTIMER COLLINS. 
 
 Sweet Anne Page. 
 Transmigration. 
 
 From Midnight to 
 Midnight. 
 
 A Fight with Fortune. 
 
 MORTIMER & FRANCES COLLINS. 
 
 Sweet and Twenty. | Frances. 
 
 Blacksmith and Scholar. 
 
 The Village Comedy. 
 
 You Play me False. 
 
 BY BUTTON COOK. 
 Leo. I Paul Fosters Daughter. 
 
 BY C. EGBERT CRADDOCK. 
 The Prophet of the Great Smoky 
 Mountains. 
 
 BY WILLIAM CYPLES. 
 Hearts of Gold. 
 
 BY ALPHONSE DAUDET. 
 The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation, 
 
 BY JAMES DE MILLE. 
 A Castle in Spain. 
 
 BY J. LEITH DERWENT. 
 
 Our Lady of Tears. ! Circe's Lovers. 
 
 BY CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 Sketches by Boz. | Oliver TwSst. 
 Pickwick Pape?>8. | f^Scholas NIckleby 
 
 Cheap Popular Novels, continued'— 
 
 BY MRS. ANNIE EDWARDES. 
 
 A Point of Honour. | Archie Lovell. 
 
 BY M. BETHAM'EDWARDS, 
 Felicia. | Kitty. 
 
 BY EDWARD EGGLESTON, 
 Roxy. 
 
 BY PERCY FITZGERALD. 
 Bella Donna. | Never Forgotten. 
 The Second Mrs. Tlllotson. 
 Polly. 
 
 Seventy-five Brooke Street. 
 The Lady of Brantome. • 
 
 BY ALBANY DE FONBLANQUE, 
 Filthy Lucre. 
 
 BY R. E. FRANCILLON. 
 Olympia. I Queen Cophetua. 
 
 One by One. | A Real Queen. 
 
 Prefaced by Sir H. BARTLE FRERE, 
 Pandurang Harl. 
 
 BY HAIN FR IS WELL, 
 One of Two. 
 
 BY EDV/ARD GARRETT, 
 The Capel Girls. 
 
 BY CHARLES GIBBON. 
 
 Robin Gray. 
 For Lack of Gold. 
 What will the 
 
 World Say P 
 In Honour Bound. 
 The Dead Heart. 
 In Love and War. 
 For the King. 
 In Pastures Green 
 
 Queen of the Mea- 
 dow. 
 
 The Flower of the 
 Forest. 
 
 A Heart's Problem 
 
 The Braes of Yar- 
 row. 
 
 The Golden Shaft. 
 
 Of High Degree. 
 
 BY WILLIAM GILBERT, 
 Dr. Austin's Guests. 
 The Wizard of the Mountain. 
 James Duke. 
 
 BY yAMES GREENWOOD. 
 Dick Temple. 
 
 BY ANDREW HALLWAY, 
 Every-Day Papers. 
 
 BY LADY DUFFUS HARDY. 
 Paul Wynter's Sacrlflce. 
 
 BY THOMAS HARDY. 
 Under the Greenwood Trea 
 
 BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE. 
 
 Sebastian Strome 
 Dust. 
 
 Garth. 
 
 Elllce Quentln. 
 
 Prince Saroni's 
 
 Fortune's Fool. | Beatrix Randolph. 
 
 BY SIR ARTHUR HELPS, 
 Ivan de BIron. 
 
 BY TOM HOOD. 
 A Golden Heart. 
 
 BY MRS, GEORGE 
 The House of Raby. 
 
CHATTO & W INDUS, PICCADILLY. 
 
 31 
 
 Cheap Popular Novels, conUnued-^ 
 
 BY VICTOR HUGO. 
 The Hunchback of Motre Dame, 
 
 BY MRS. ALFRED HUNT. 
 Thorn Icifoft's Model. 
 The Leaden Casket. 
 Self-Condemned. 
 
 BY JEAN INGELOW, 
 Fated to be Free. 
 
 BY HARRIETT JAY, 
 The Dark Co!!een. 
 The Queen of Connaught. 
 
 BY HENRY KINGS LEY. 
 OakshottCastSe. ! Number Seventeen 
 
 BY E. LYNN LINTON. 
 Patricia Kemball. 
 The Atonement of Leam Dundas. 
 The Vi/orld Well Lost. 
 Under which Lord? 
 With a Silken Thread. 
 The Rebel of the Family. 
 "P^y Love!" | lone. 
 
 BY HENRY W. LUCY, 
 Gideon Fleyce. 
 
 BY JUSTIN McCarthy, m.p. 
 
 Cheap Popular Novels, continued — 
 BY GUIDA. 
 
 Dear LadyDlsdaln 
 The Waterdale 
 
 Neighbours. 
 My Enemy's 
 
 Daughter. 
 A Fair Saxon. 
 
 LInley Rochford. 
 r^issMisanthrope 
 Donna Quixote. 
 The Comet of a 
 
 Season. 
 Maid of Athens. 
 
 BY GEORGE '^ACDONALD. 
 Paul Faber, Surgeon. 
 Thomas Wingfold, Curate. 
 
 BY MRS. MACDONELL. 
 Quaker Cousins. 
 
 BY KATHARINE S. MACQUOID. 
 The Evil Eye. | Lost Rosa. 
 
 BY W. H. MALLOCK. 
 The New Republic. 
 
 BY FLORENCE MARRY AT. 
 
 A Little Stepson. 
 
 Open! Sesame! 
 A Harvest of Wild 
 Oats. 
 
 Fighting the Air 
 Written in Fire. 
 
 BY J.,MASTERMANi 
 Half-a-dozen Daughters. 
 
 BY JEAN MIDDLEMASS. 
 Touch and Go. | Mr. Dorlllion. 
 
 BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY. 
 
 By the Gate of the 
 
 Sea. 
 Val Strange. 
 Hearts. 
 
 ALIfe'sAtonement 
 A Model Father. 
 Joseph's Coat. 
 Coals of Fire. 
 
 BY MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 Whiteladies. 
 
 BY MRS. ROBERT O'REILLY, 
 Phosbe's Fortunes 
 
 Held In Bondage. 
 
 Stpathmore. 
 
 C hand OS. 
 
 Under Two Flags. 
 
 Ida!!a. 
 
 Cecil Castfe- 
 
 malne's Gage. 
 Tricotrln. 
 Puck. 
 
 Foile Farlne. 
 A Dog of Flanders. 
 Pascarel. 
 
 Tv/oLIttleWoodcn 
 Shoes. 
 
 In a Winter City. 
 
 Ar-ladns. 
 
 Friendship. 
 
 Motfis. 
 
 Piplstrello. 
 
 A Village Com- 
 mune. 
 
 Bimbl. 
 
 In Maremma. 
 
 Wanda. 
 
 Frescoes. 
 
 Signa. 
 
 BY MARGARET AGNES PAUL. 
 Gentle and Simple. 
 
 BY JAMES PAYN. 
 
 Lost Sir Masslng- 
 berd. 
 
 A Perfect Trea- 
 sure. 
 
 Bentinck's Tutor. 
 
 Muj'phy's Master. 
 
 A County Family. 
 
 At Her Mercy. 
 
 A Woman's Ven- 
 geance. 
 
 Cecil's Tryst. 
 
 Clyffards of Clyffe 
 
 The FamllyScape- 
 grace. 
 
 Foster Brothers. 
 
 Found Dead. 
 
 Best of Husbands. 
 
 Walter's Word. 
 
 Halves. 
 
 Fallen Fortunes. 
 
 What He Cost Her 
 
 Humorous Stories 
 
 Gwendoline's Har- 
 vest. 
 
 £200 Reward. 
 
 Like Father, Like 
 
 Son. 
 A Marine Resi- 
 dence. 
 Married Beneath 
 
 Him. 
 Mirk Abbey. 
 Not Wooed, but 
 
 Won. 
 Less Black than 
 
 We're Painted. 
 By Proxy. 
 Under One Roof. 
 High Spirits, 
 Carlyon's Yea.r. 
 A Confidential 
 
 Agent. 
 Some Private 
 
 Views. 
 From Exile. 
 A Grape from a 
 
 Thorn. 
 For Cash Only. 
 Kit : A Memory. 
 The Canon sVVard 
 
 BY EDGAR A. POE. 
 The Mystery of Marie Roget. 
 
 BY E. C. PRICE, 
 Valentina. | The Foreigners. 
 
 Mrs. Lancaster's Rival. 
 
 BY CHARLES READS. 
 It Is Never Too Late to Mend 
 Hard Cash. | Peg Wofflngton. 
 
 Christie Johnstone. 
 Griffith Gaunt. 
 Put Yourself in His Place, 
 The Double Marriage. 
 Love Me Little, Love Me Long. 
 Foul Play. 
 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 The Course of True Love. 
 Autobiography of a Thief. 
 A Terrible Temptation, 
 The Wandering Help. 
 
32 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY CHATTO 6* WINDUS. 
 
 Cheap Popular Novels, continued—' 
 By Charles Reade, continued. 
 
 A Simpleton. 1 A Woman-Hatep. 
 
 Readiana. | The Jilt. 
 
 SIngleheart and Doubleface. 
 
 Good Stories of Men and other 
 Animals. • 
 
 , B Y MRS. J. H. RIDDELL, 
 
 Her* Mother's Darling. 
 
 Prince of Wales's Garden Party 
 
 Weird Stories. 
 
 The Uninhabited House. 
 
 Fairy Water. 
 
 BY F. W. ROBINSON, 
 Women are Strange. 
 The Hands of Justice. 
 
 BY JAMES RUNCIMAN. 
 Sl<ippers and Shellbacks. 
 
 BY W. CLARK RUSSELL, 
 Round the Galley Fire. 
 
 BY BAYLE ST. JOHN, 
 A Levantine Family. 
 
 BY GEORGE AUGUSTUS SA%A. 
 Gaslight and Daylight. 
 
 BY JOHN SAUNDERS. 
 Bound to the Wheel. 
 One Against the World. 
 Guy Waterman. 
 The Lion in the Path. 
 Two Dreamers. 
 
 BY KATHARINE SAUNDERS. 
 Joan Merryweather, 
 Margaret and Elizabeth. 
 The High Mills. 
 
 BY GEORGE R. SIMS, ^ 
 Rogues and Vagabonds. // 
 
 BY ARTHUR SKETCHLEY', 
 A Match In the Dark. 
 
 BY T. W. SPEIGHT, 
 The Mysteries of Heron Dyke. 
 
 BY R. A. STERN DALE. 
 The Afghan Knife. 
 
 BY R. LOUIS STEVENSON. 
 New Arabian Nights. 
 
 BY BERTHA THOMAS. 
 Cressida. I Proud Malsie. 
 
 The Violin-Player. 
 
 BY V/. MOY THOMAS. 
 A Fight for Life. 
 
 BY WALTER THORNBURY. 
 Tales for the Marines. 
 
 BY T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE. 
 Diamond Cut Diamond. 
 
 BY ANTHONY TROLLOPS, 
 The Way We Live Now. 
 The American Senator. 
 Frau Frohmann. 
 
 Cheap Popular Novels, continued'^ 
 
 By Anthony Trollope, continued, 
 
 Marlon Fay. 
 
 Kept in the Dark. 
 
 Mr. Scarborough's Family. 
 
 The Land-Leaguers. 
 
 The Golden Lion of Granpere. 
 
 John Caldigate. 
 
 By FRANCES ELEANORTROLLOPE 
 Like Ships upon the Sea. 
 Anne Furness. 
 Mabel's Progress. 
 
 BY IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c. 
 Stories from Foreign Novelists 
 
 BY MARK TWAIN. 
 Tom Sawyer. 
 An Idle Excursion. 
 A Pleasure Trip on the Continent 
 
 of Europe. 
 A Tramp Abroad. 
 The Stolen White Elephant. 
 
 BY C. C. FRASER-TYTLER. 
 Mistress Judith. 
 
 BY SARAH TYTLER. 
 What She Came Through. 
 The Bride's Pass. 
 
 BY J. S. WINTER. 
 Cavalry Life. | Regimental Legends. 
 
 BY LADY WOOD. 
 Sablna. 
 
 BY EDMUND YATES. 
 Castaway. | The Forlorn Hope. 
 Land at Last. « 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 Paul Ferroll. 
 Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, picture covers. Is. each. 
 Jeff Briggs's Love Story. By Bret 
 
 Harte. 
 The Twins of Table Mountain. By 
 
 Bret Harte, 
 Mrs. Gainsboiiough's Diamonds. By 
 
 Julian Hawthorne. 
 Kathleen Mavourneen. By Author 
 
 of " That Lass o' Lowrie's." 
 Lindsay's Luck. By the Author of 
 
 " That Lass o' Lowrie's." 
 Pretty Polly Pemberton. By the 
 
 Author of "That Lass o' Lowrie's." 
 Trooping with Crows. By Mrs. 
 
 Pirkis. 
 The Professor's Wife. By Leonard 
 
 Graham. 
 A Double Bond. By Linda Villari. 
 Esther's Glove. By R. E. Frangillon, 
 The Garden that Paid the Rent. 
 
 By Tom Jerrold. 
 Curly. By John Coleman. Illus- 
 trated by J. C. Dollman. 
 Beyond the Gates. By E. S. Phelps. 
 An Old Maid's Paradise. By E. S. 
 
 Phelps. 
 Doomed ! By Justin H. MacCarthy, 
 
 I. OGDEM AND CO., PRINTERS, I72, ST. JOHN STREET, S.Ci 
 
RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 ?Bh96h 
 09