We must go back to an earlier stage of the triumph of June, when the happy developments, aforesaid, were generally but generating in men's minds, and had not come to actual processes of materialization.It was April--the beginning of the last week of the joyous month; and though on all sides of her there was bustling evidence of her absolute victory, June felt sad, for Oberon had given no sign of his forgiveness. He and Titania were the only fairies who had not come to justify her happiness. Realizing this, she had almost enough sorrow for tears. Why did not the king come? Could his displeasure still be active?As she flew here, there, and all about the radiant Metropolis--from over which the pall of evil had been finally removed--she sighed and sighed again. Her comrades, seeing the sadness, her burden, were grieved. It was the only dark speck on a condition of absolute joy.June visited her human friends--Sally Wilkins, the Oldsteins, Archdeacon Pryde, the Mosses, the Duke and Duchess of Armingham, Lord Geoffrey Season, Sir Titus Dods--and rejoiced to find them still at work on the right lines, marching the way of fairy progress, but her yellow depression clung to her and would not be shaken off.Strange that even in the hour of fulfilled joy she should be haunted by the spectre of disappointment; but so it was.The last days of April drifted by. It was the evening of its thirtieth day. Soon after midnight, in the first of the morning darkness, the fairy of the year was to be crowned.June hid herself in loneliness on her roof over Paradise Court, drooped her wings, and was, in every respect, weary. The hour of reaction, so long resisted, at last had come. She felt then that the successful fulfilment of her quest, while lifting a weight from her, had also taken away something that sustained and inspired her. With Bim far away--she knew not where--and her multitude of comrades dispersed in all parts of the Metropolis, or, she supposed, travelling to the new crowning, her burden of weakness and weariness was heavy indeed.She looked up to the sky, and remembered the evening of a year ago. The stars were shining now as they shone then. The crescent moon looked down. Curious as ever, Diana, that prudish old maid, the Hellenic Mrs. Grundy, peeped through the silver cranny, and watched the world, waiting the crowning.Memories of the last May-day came forcefully to June. She recollected Oberon's appeal to her; Titania's brief kindness of championship; her own defiance and flight. How changed things were since then! She longed to be back in the Land of Wild Roses, now that her task was fulfilled.Though the stars were shining brightly, life and the sky seemed to her grey, and grey remained till the clocks struck eleven. Roused by their chorus from her depressing reverie, she flew to the highest chimney on her roof, to contemplate in farewell the wonders surrounding her.Bim's garden was still flourishing. Its flowers shone proudly with fairy-light. They--aha!--were not faint-hearted. On many roofs spring-time petals were looking upward, an elf-flame breaking from every opening bud. Fairyland was effectually translated; London transformed.Good-bye for a time! To-morrow she would leave all this--her particular task was done. She would, in the minutes before midnight, hasten to the new crowning, wherever it might be, to congratulate the happiest fairy, whoever that should be, and then, free, she would fly to the dear home ways, to rest, refresh, rejoice.But would the gentle King forgive her? She remembered his command of a year ago, and felt sorrow, which the record of a completed purpose and victory won could not banish or diminish.The question troubled her, till Oberon brought the answer.She was seated brooding on the rim of the chimney, her deportment and limp wings signs of extreme dejection, when she was aware of brightness and happiness approaching. She looked hastily about her.Sorrow went.Myriads of fairies were on the wing, coming fleetly towards her, singing the songs that gladden the night of the crowning. Their brightness was such that for a time it paled the stars. Then slowly, still chanting, they ranged on the houses about her, or fluttered in laughing lines under the sky.Gnomes, eager to join in what was happening, came up, climbing rain-pipes, and using other means of reaching the roof-country.They reminded June of Bim. She wished he, too, was there. Why had not he returned? This procession and display meant honour and happiness which he deserved to share. But wherever he was, it was well with him; that she knew.She gave the whole of her attention to the wonders approaching.On all sides about her fairies were ranged; the houses were outlined with their radiance; every flower on window-sills and roof-gardens was awake and shining.Slowly now, gladly, majestically, the high aristocracy of Elfdom came. They greeted June with the waving of wands, and then took places near where she was sitting.There was a burst of applause in melody. Oberon and Titania were approaching. June's being trembled with rapture. They had come! They had come! She rose to greet them; a great glad cry of welcome--welcome from multitudinous elves rang up to the sky.Their majesties of Fairyland came to Bim's garden, and there were enthroned, a brilliant escort of knights grouped behind them."June," said the King, so clearly that every elf could hear him, "a year has passed since your act of disobedience. Against our wishes, and despite our will, you went to fulfil the impossible. You came to where the cloud of evil--that ominous pall--hung over London, and proclaimed the weakness of Fairyland!"These words sounded so like a rebuke that June was fearful. She bowed her head, opened wings, and knelt mutely before her monarch. Oberon smiled."You have done well, June! You have accomplished the impossible. You have taught us never to despair. For the first time in history a fairy has disobeyed a King's command and done right. Elves!" he cried to the company, "the hour of the crowning has nearly come. Who shall the honoured fairy be?"There was a moment's silence. Then, as a chord of music, far-flung, unanimous, the answer came:"June!"Magnificent silence again.The fortunate fairy, chosen, was still kneeling. Her great happiness humbled her. Her wings quivered. She was enduring an ordeal. Titania raised her, kissed her, brought to her confidence. Then, hand in hand, June linking the King and Queen, they flew westward. The host of fairies followed in a long line of golden light, cheerily singing. A comet would be a mere firework in comparison with their splendour.As they made progress over the town, Oberon and Titania saw the fruits of June's efforts. The great Metropolis shone beautiful beneath them. There was no ugliness, want, or unkindness in London that night. Streets and houses were full of inspiring brightness and noble delight.As they passed, half circling, St. Paul's Churchyard, a nightingale was singing.A great army of gnomes hurried along the roads, following the way of the procession. They were not going to miss the crowning--no, not they! Policemen on duty were only half aware of the bustlement proceeding.The crowning was to be celebrated in St. James's Park. A choir of birds were already singing the opening anthem as Oberon and Titania, still hand in hand with June, descended to thrones in the greenness.CHAPTER XXIICROWNEDFairyland! Fairyland!Again there was high revel in Fairyland--revel heartier, happier than ever before. No wilderness was now left unlighted by elf-kindness. Every brick and fragment of London town, as every grass-blade and flower in the green country, was under the acknowledged dominion of the fairy King. The elves had come to their own again.Oberon and Titania, with June seated between them, watched the procession of infinite fairies arriving; saw the glorious presences range themselves round the place of the coronation, while the preparation of the Park's smooth sward for feasting and dancing went rapidly on. Gnomes bustled about pell-mell, as they had done that night of the year before, and soon made the wide, smooth lawn ready for melodies of motion and song.The heroes of old time came marching amid cheering to their places of honour near the throne. They were shining with the pride wrought by arduous duties done.The cousins of Rumpelstiltzkin, belonging to the brotherhood which in the far-away mountains of Knickerbocker had kidnapped happy-go-lucky Rip, came up from their deep-down workshops--hammers in their hands--to greet the fairy of the year. They stood or sat in groups, wagging their beards with crony's talk, while gravely nodding in time with the music. The hoarded gossip of months was then in circulation.June was entranced by the wonders presented to her. It was all so happily old, and yet in every item and particle so freshly, entrancingly new.Nymphs came from the dim Down-There--an underground Kingdom with roads, rivers and mountains, nearly as vast and wonderful as this over-world, is hidden in Fairyland (its stories may be told some day)--to flit on gossamer wings and feet of light over the grass. Their motion touched the winds with rapture, and gave to the night radiance and fragrance.The daintiest and proudest of the immortals joined in the delight of the dancing. No happier evening in the long, long annals of Elfland has been or can be recorded. It was pre-eminently a brief series of hours of triumph, without a single regret or fear to spoil or mar the brightness and harmony.Stars sent down their dearest beams laden with blessings for elfkind and humanity. A great planet crossed the sky, a dazzling miniature of the moon at its full.June's only wonder during that period was--Bim! He could not be far away. Where was he? It was strange he should not be there.Meanwhile the revel went on, with its laughter, songs and feasting.The time for the crowning came. Oberon rose and raised his sceptre in command. A glad unanimous cry rang out. Birds atune to the rapture sang. A chosen choir of a thousand nightingales expressed delight.The time of the fairy year! The crown, guarded by a score of sentinels, was reverently borne towards the King and Titania by a gnome--by Bim. He was by royal proclamation appointed, henceforth and for ever, to be its especial keeper; and so reaped the reward of his year of devotion and prowess. June rose with delight to greet him. She forgot all else of that festival then, in gladness at seeing him. For his part, in return he smiled a smile broad enough to be a generous grin--no mere plain prose words can express the fulness of his happiness.June realized at once that he was changed, improved. He was less gnome now than fairy knight. The nymph of the pool in the Violet Valley had remembered the promise made on the early morning of his departure in the wake of June. Bim had received the reward she had predicted. He was, in that proud hour and for a while thereafter, unique in Fairyland; having the distinction of being raised to a class by himself: less gnome than knight: the rewarded hero; and no one was envious because of his good fortune.The gnomes, especially, were proud of their fellow, who by earning honour for himself had thrown honour, reflected, on them.The king took the crown from Bim, and held it above the happy fairy."June, June, June!" again and again that favourite name was raised.The nightingales, unanimous, gave the guiding note, and the triumph song--the anthem of that supreme hour--rang once again up to the stars.London in sleep heard the song and dreamed of the fairies.Oberon placed the crown on June's head. Hand in hand with Bim, she and the comrade who had done so duteously walked slowly round the inside of the great circle of elves.It was the hour of triumph. Victory, absolute and supreme, was expressed in the music of that night. Oberon ruled everywhere!Fairyland! Fairyland!BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD* * * * * * * *Also by C. E. LAWRENCE.PILGRIMAGE.6s.What the Critics said:"A work of such lofty design, written with such an unusual excellence of style, devoted so truly to the sublimer needs of men, that it must be welcomed by those who have the higher interests of the novel at heart. This form of literature is too often made to serve base ends, but here it is a vehicle for the purest emotions.... Much may be hoped from the writer of this beautiful work, deeply moving, and exquisitely sympathetic with the yearnings and sufferings of humanity."--Globe."The work is worth ten ordinary novels, for it takes us through the externals of worship, chivalry, and love, on that elusive quest upon which practically every human being sooner or later sets out, in the search of things-as-they-are instead of things-as-they-appear."--Daily Mail."In its bitterest moments, when the hero is torn with doubts and stress, there is a rich vein of humanity, dignity, and intense refinement running through it all, and the vigour and beauty of the telling remain in the memory when the triumphant ending is forgotten.--Pall Mall Gazette."'Pilgrimage' is a sincere, ennobling piece of work. The author's earnestness of purpose, and true literary instinct, have enabled him to perform a most difficult task with rare success."--Daily Graphic."A remarkable, arresting book, written in beautiful chaste English, with a strong elevating purpose."--Sheffield Telegraph."Thus we have a profoundly spiritual book, striking to the very depths of the human soul, and yet presenting with meritorious skill the atmosphere of the life it depicts so as to give us not merely a philosophical study but a series of charming pictures."--Liverpool Daily Post."It is impossible not to be impressed by the sincerity of its outlook, and the careful deliberate workmanship which has been bestowed upon every part of it."--Daily Telegraph."It is a beautiful parable, and 'Pilgrimage' will make a strong appeal to those who appreciate earnest effort in fiction."--Scotsman.* * * * *MISS ESPERANCE & MR. WYCHERLY.By Mrs. L. ALLEN HARKER. Fourth Impression. 6s."If you want to give yourself a delightful treat get 'Miss Esperance and Mr. Wycherly, and enjoy every word of it. The book so absolutely charmed me that the moment I had finished it I turned back to the first page and read it through again.... I shall read it a third time very soon."--Truth."Having given the necessary time for the critical spirit to get even with emotion, we may say that it is long since we have read a book so full of tenderness, humanity, and charm. It should take very high rank indeed and pass into the list of those books which are not disposed of when the year is over.... The book is pure gold."--Daily Telegraph.SEPTIMUS.By WILLIAM J. LOCKE, Author of "The Beloved Vagabond."Sixth Impression. 6s.Truthsays: "If you want a perfectly delightful book, get W. J. Locke's 'Septimus.'"A whimsical, delightful story, full of quaint humour."--Westminster Gazette."Unquestionably Mr. Locke's 'Septimus' is one of the most original and most entirely delightful novels of recent years. It is written with fresh humour and rare sympathy; its analysis of character is masterly."--Birmingham Post.THE GENTLEMAN.By ALFRED OLLIVANT, Author of "Danny," etc. 6s.We feel persuaded that we have here another Stevenson--another 'Treasure Island.--Sphere.ROMANCE OF THE EAST SERIES.Crown 8vo., 2s. 6d. net each.In this series the great store-houses of Oriental romance will be open for the first time to the public. Tales from the Sanscrit, from the Chinese, from every language of the East possessing a great literature will appear in due course. From these vivid narratives of old-world romance it will be possible for the reader to glean much information concerning the lives and manners and customs of vanished races, and the greatness of empires that have passed away.TALES OF THE CALIPHS. By CLADD FIELD.TALES WITHIN TALES. By Sir ARTHUR N. WOLLASTON, K.C.I.E.THE GOLDEN TOWN. By Dr. L. B. BARNETT.For Lists of this Series and of the "Wisdom of the East" series whichcontains studies and translations of the Great Oriental philosophiesapply to the Publishers.LONDON: JOHN MURRAY.*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKMUCH ADO ABOUT SOMETHING***
We must go back to an earlier stage of the triumph of June, when the happy developments, aforesaid, were generally but generating in men's minds, and had not come to actual processes of materialization.
It was April--the beginning of the last week of the joyous month; and though on all sides of her there was bustling evidence of her absolute victory, June felt sad, for Oberon had given no sign of his forgiveness. He and Titania were the only fairies who had not come to justify her happiness. Realizing this, she had almost enough sorrow for tears. Why did not the king come? Could his displeasure still be active?
As she flew here, there, and all about the radiant Metropolis--from over which the pall of evil had been finally removed--she sighed and sighed again. Her comrades, seeing the sadness, her burden, were grieved. It was the only dark speck on a condition of absolute joy.
June visited her human friends--Sally Wilkins, the Oldsteins, Archdeacon Pryde, the Mosses, the Duke and Duchess of Armingham, Lord Geoffrey Season, Sir Titus Dods--and rejoiced to find them still at work on the right lines, marching the way of fairy progress, but her yellow depression clung to her and would not be shaken off.
Strange that even in the hour of fulfilled joy she should be haunted by the spectre of disappointment; but so it was.
The last days of April drifted by. It was the evening of its thirtieth day. Soon after midnight, in the first of the morning darkness, the fairy of the year was to be crowned.
June hid herself in loneliness on her roof over Paradise Court, drooped her wings, and was, in every respect, weary. The hour of reaction, so long resisted, at last had come. She felt then that the successful fulfilment of her quest, while lifting a weight from her, had also taken away something that sustained and inspired her. With Bim far away--she knew not where--and her multitude of comrades dispersed in all parts of the Metropolis, or, she supposed, travelling to the new crowning, her burden of weakness and weariness was heavy indeed.
She looked up to the sky, and remembered the evening of a year ago. The stars were shining now as they shone then. The crescent moon looked down. Curious as ever, Diana, that prudish old maid, the Hellenic Mrs. Grundy, peeped through the silver cranny, and watched the world, waiting the crowning.
Memories of the last May-day came forcefully to June. She recollected Oberon's appeal to her; Titania's brief kindness of championship; her own defiance and flight. How changed things were since then! She longed to be back in the Land of Wild Roses, now that her task was fulfilled.
Though the stars were shining brightly, life and the sky seemed to her grey, and grey remained till the clocks struck eleven. Roused by their chorus from her depressing reverie, she flew to the highest chimney on her roof, to contemplate in farewell the wonders surrounding her.
Bim's garden was still flourishing. Its flowers shone proudly with fairy-light. They--aha!--were not faint-hearted. On many roofs spring-time petals were looking upward, an elf-flame breaking from every opening bud. Fairyland was effectually translated; London transformed.
Good-bye for a time! To-morrow she would leave all this--her particular task was done. She would, in the minutes before midnight, hasten to the new crowning, wherever it might be, to congratulate the happiest fairy, whoever that should be, and then, free, she would fly to the dear home ways, to rest, refresh, rejoice.
But would the gentle King forgive her? She remembered his command of a year ago, and felt sorrow, which the record of a completed purpose and victory won could not banish or diminish.
The question troubled her, till Oberon brought the answer.
She was seated brooding on the rim of the chimney, her deportment and limp wings signs of extreme dejection, when she was aware of brightness and happiness approaching. She looked hastily about her.
Sorrow went.
Myriads of fairies were on the wing, coming fleetly towards her, singing the songs that gladden the night of the crowning. Their brightness was such that for a time it paled the stars. Then slowly, still chanting, they ranged on the houses about her, or fluttered in laughing lines under the sky.
Gnomes, eager to join in what was happening, came up, climbing rain-pipes, and using other means of reaching the roof-country.
They reminded June of Bim. She wished he, too, was there. Why had not he returned? This procession and display meant honour and happiness which he deserved to share. But wherever he was, it was well with him; that she knew.
She gave the whole of her attention to the wonders approaching.
On all sides about her fairies were ranged; the houses were outlined with their radiance; every flower on window-sills and roof-gardens was awake and shining.
Slowly now, gladly, majestically, the high aristocracy of Elfdom came. They greeted June with the waving of wands, and then took places near where she was sitting.
There was a burst of applause in melody. Oberon and Titania were approaching. June's being trembled with rapture. They had come! They had come! She rose to greet them; a great glad cry of welcome--welcome from multitudinous elves rang up to the sky.
Their majesties of Fairyland came to Bim's garden, and there were enthroned, a brilliant escort of knights grouped behind them.
"June," said the King, so clearly that every elf could hear him, "a year has passed since your act of disobedience. Against our wishes, and despite our will, you went to fulfil the impossible. You came to where the cloud of evil--that ominous pall--hung over London, and proclaimed the weakness of Fairyland!"
These words sounded so like a rebuke that June was fearful. She bowed her head, opened wings, and knelt mutely before her monarch. Oberon smiled.
"You have done well, June! You have accomplished the impossible. You have taught us never to despair. For the first time in history a fairy has disobeyed a King's command and done right. Elves!" he cried to the company, "the hour of the crowning has nearly come. Who shall the honoured fairy be?"
There was a moment's silence. Then, as a chord of music, far-flung, unanimous, the answer came:
"June!"
Magnificent silence again.
The fortunate fairy, chosen, was still kneeling. Her great happiness humbled her. Her wings quivered. She was enduring an ordeal. Titania raised her, kissed her, brought to her confidence. Then, hand in hand, June linking the King and Queen, they flew westward. The host of fairies followed in a long line of golden light, cheerily singing. A comet would be a mere firework in comparison with their splendour.
As they made progress over the town, Oberon and Titania saw the fruits of June's efforts. The great Metropolis shone beautiful beneath them. There was no ugliness, want, or unkindness in London that night. Streets and houses were full of inspiring brightness and noble delight.
As they passed, half circling, St. Paul's Churchyard, a nightingale was singing.
A great army of gnomes hurried along the roads, following the way of the procession. They were not going to miss the crowning--no, not they! Policemen on duty were only half aware of the bustlement proceeding.
The crowning was to be celebrated in St. James's Park. A choir of birds were already singing the opening anthem as Oberon and Titania, still hand in hand with June, descended to thrones in the greenness.
CHAPTER XXII
CROWNED
Fairyland! Fairyland!
Again there was high revel in Fairyland--revel heartier, happier than ever before. No wilderness was now left unlighted by elf-kindness. Every brick and fragment of London town, as every grass-blade and flower in the green country, was under the acknowledged dominion of the fairy King. The elves had come to their own again.
Oberon and Titania, with June seated between them, watched the procession of infinite fairies arriving; saw the glorious presences range themselves round the place of the coronation, while the preparation of the Park's smooth sward for feasting and dancing went rapidly on. Gnomes bustled about pell-mell, as they had done that night of the year before, and soon made the wide, smooth lawn ready for melodies of motion and song.
The heroes of old time came marching amid cheering to their places of honour near the throne. They were shining with the pride wrought by arduous duties done.
The cousins of Rumpelstiltzkin, belonging to the brotherhood which in the far-away mountains of Knickerbocker had kidnapped happy-go-lucky Rip, came up from their deep-down workshops--hammers in their hands--to greet the fairy of the year. They stood or sat in groups, wagging their beards with crony's talk, while gravely nodding in time with the music. The hoarded gossip of months was then in circulation.
June was entranced by the wonders presented to her. It was all so happily old, and yet in every item and particle so freshly, entrancingly new.
Nymphs came from the dim Down-There--an underground Kingdom with roads, rivers and mountains, nearly as vast and wonderful as this over-world, is hidden in Fairyland (its stories may be told some day)--to flit on gossamer wings and feet of light over the grass. Their motion touched the winds with rapture, and gave to the night radiance and fragrance.
The daintiest and proudest of the immortals joined in the delight of the dancing. No happier evening in the long, long annals of Elfland has been or can be recorded. It was pre-eminently a brief series of hours of triumph, without a single regret or fear to spoil or mar the brightness and harmony.
Stars sent down their dearest beams laden with blessings for elfkind and humanity. A great planet crossed the sky, a dazzling miniature of the moon at its full.
June's only wonder during that period was--Bim! He could not be far away. Where was he? It was strange he should not be there.
Meanwhile the revel went on, with its laughter, songs and feasting.
The time for the crowning came. Oberon rose and raised his sceptre in command. A glad unanimous cry rang out. Birds atune to the rapture sang. A chosen choir of a thousand nightingales expressed delight.
The time of the fairy year! The crown, guarded by a score of sentinels, was reverently borne towards the King and Titania by a gnome--by Bim. He was by royal proclamation appointed, henceforth and for ever, to be its especial keeper; and so reaped the reward of his year of devotion and prowess. June rose with delight to greet him. She forgot all else of that festival then, in gladness at seeing him. For his part, in return he smiled a smile broad enough to be a generous grin--no mere plain prose words can express the fulness of his happiness.
June realized at once that he was changed, improved. He was less gnome now than fairy knight. The nymph of the pool in the Violet Valley had remembered the promise made on the early morning of his departure in the wake of June. Bim had received the reward she had predicted. He was, in that proud hour and for a while thereafter, unique in Fairyland; having the distinction of being raised to a class by himself: less gnome than knight: the rewarded hero; and no one was envious because of his good fortune.
The gnomes, especially, were proud of their fellow, who by earning honour for himself had thrown honour, reflected, on them.
The king took the crown from Bim, and held it above the happy fairy.
"June, June, June!" again and again that favourite name was raised.
The nightingales, unanimous, gave the guiding note, and the triumph song--the anthem of that supreme hour--rang once again up to the stars.
London in sleep heard the song and dreamed of the fairies.
Oberon placed the crown on June's head. Hand in hand with Bim, she and the comrade who had done so duteously walked slowly round the inside of the great circle of elves.
It was the hour of triumph. Victory, absolute and supreme, was expressed in the music of that night. Oberon ruled everywhere!
Fairyland! Fairyland!
BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD
* * * * * * * *
Also by C. E. LAWRENCE.
PILGRIMAGE.
6s.
What the Critics said:
"A work of such lofty design, written with such an unusual excellence of style, devoted so truly to the sublimer needs of men, that it must be welcomed by those who have the higher interests of the novel at heart. This form of literature is too often made to serve base ends, but here it is a vehicle for the purest emotions.... Much may be hoped from the writer of this beautiful work, deeply moving, and exquisitely sympathetic with the yearnings and sufferings of humanity."--Globe.
"The work is worth ten ordinary novels, for it takes us through the externals of worship, chivalry, and love, on that elusive quest upon which practically every human being sooner or later sets out, in the search of things-as-they-are instead of things-as-they-appear."--Daily Mail.
"In its bitterest moments, when the hero is torn with doubts and stress, there is a rich vein of humanity, dignity, and intense refinement running through it all, and the vigour and beauty of the telling remain in the memory when the triumphant ending is forgotten.--Pall Mall Gazette.
"'Pilgrimage' is a sincere, ennobling piece of work. The author's earnestness of purpose, and true literary instinct, have enabled him to perform a most difficult task with rare success."--Daily Graphic.
"A remarkable, arresting book, written in beautiful chaste English, with a strong elevating purpose."--Sheffield Telegraph.
"Thus we have a profoundly spiritual book, striking to the very depths of the human soul, and yet presenting with meritorious skill the atmosphere of the life it depicts so as to give us not merely a philosophical study but a series of charming pictures."--Liverpool Daily Post.
"It is impossible not to be impressed by the sincerity of its outlook, and the careful deliberate workmanship which has been bestowed upon every part of it."--Daily Telegraph.
"It is a beautiful parable, and 'Pilgrimage' will make a strong appeal to those who appreciate earnest effort in fiction."--Scotsman.
* * * * *
MISS ESPERANCE & MR. WYCHERLY.
By Mrs. L. ALLEN HARKER. Fourth Impression. 6s.
"If you want to give yourself a delightful treat get 'Miss Esperance and Mr. Wycherly, and enjoy every word of it. The book so absolutely charmed me that the moment I had finished it I turned back to the first page and read it through again.... I shall read it a third time very soon."--Truth.
"Having given the necessary time for the critical spirit to get even with emotion, we may say that it is long since we have read a book so full of tenderness, humanity, and charm. It should take very high rank indeed and pass into the list of those books which are not disposed of when the year is over.... The book is pure gold."--Daily Telegraph.
SEPTIMUS.
By WILLIAM J. LOCKE, Author of "The Beloved Vagabond."
Sixth Impression. 6s.
Truthsays: "If you want a perfectly delightful book, get W. J. Locke's 'Septimus.'
"A whimsical, delightful story, full of quaint humour."--Westminster Gazette.
"Unquestionably Mr. Locke's 'Septimus' is one of the most original and most entirely delightful novels of recent years. It is written with fresh humour and rare sympathy; its analysis of character is masterly."--Birmingham Post.
THE GENTLEMAN.
By ALFRED OLLIVANT, Author of "Danny," etc. 6s.
We feel persuaded that we have here another Stevenson--another 'Treasure Island.--Sphere.
ROMANCE OF THE EAST SERIES.
Crown 8vo., 2s. 6d. net each.
In this series the great store-houses of Oriental romance will be open for the first time to the public. Tales from the Sanscrit, from the Chinese, from every language of the East possessing a great literature will appear in due course. From these vivid narratives of old-world romance it will be possible for the reader to glean much information concerning the lives and manners and customs of vanished races, and the greatness of empires that have passed away.
TALES OF THE CALIPHS. By CLADD FIELD.
TALES WITHIN TALES. By Sir ARTHUR N. WOLLASTON, K.C.I.E.
THE GOLDEN TOWN. By Dr. L. B. BARNETT.
For Lists of this Series and of the "Wisdom of the East" series whichcontains studies and translations of the Great Oriental philosophiesapply to the Publishers.
LONDON: JOHN MURRAY.
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKMUCH ADO ABOUT SOMETHING***