BRITANNIATHE NEW NORTH-WEST PASSAGE.Britannia."NOW, FROM MY WESTERN CLIFFS THAT FRONT THE DEEPTO WHERE THE WARM PACIFIC WATERS SWEEPAROUND CATHAY AND OLD ZIPANGU'S SHORE,MY COURSE IS CLEAR. WHAT CAN I WISH FOR MORE?"
Britannia."NOW, FROM MY WESTERN CLIFFS THAT FRONT THE DEEPTO WHERE THE WARM PACIFIC WATERS SWEEPAROUND CATHAY AND OLD ZIPANGU'S SHORE,MY COURSE IS CLEAR. WHAT CAN I WISH FOR MORE?"
Britannia."NOW, FROM MY WESTERN CLIFFS THAT FRONT THE DEEPTO WHERE THE WARM PACIFIC WATERS SWEEPAROUND CATHAY AND OLD ZIPANGU'S SHORE,MY COURSE IS CLEAR. WHAT CAN I WISH FOR MORE?"
Ethel Deringhas not recognised me yet. Naturally she would not expect to find me being photographed on the beach with such a crew as this—but shewillin another instant, unless,—ah,Louise'ssunshade! my presence of mind neverquitedeserts me. There is a slit in the silk—through which I can seeEthel. As soon as she discovers what the excitement is all about, she turns away.... Thank goodness, she is gone! I have saved the situation—but ruined the group ... they are all annoyed with me. I had really no ideaLouiselooked so plain when out of temper!
As we go back,Alfwants to know whether I noticed that "clipping girl." He meansEthel.Louisesays, he "ought to know better than to ask me such things, considering my situation." Agree withLouise.
Evening.I am staying at home;nominally, to work at the Drama (still in very elementary stage)really, to think out the situation. Remember now theDeringshave a yacht; theymayonly have put in here for a day or two—if not, can I avoid being seen by her sooner or later? The mere idea of meetingherwhen I am withAlforPonking, and my Blazer acquaintances, makes me ill. (Not that I need distress myself, for she would probably cut me!) Can't think in Mrs.Surge'slittle front parlour. I must get out, into the air! Let me see,Louiseand her Aunt (and no doubtPonkingandAlf) will be at the Music Hall this evening, as there is a "benefit" with the usual "galaxy of talent." If I keep away from the sands (where I might seeEthel), I shall be safe enough.
'Why, he's a man of whacks!'"Why, he's a man of whacks!" Shakspeare.
Turn into Public Gardens; nobody here just now, except a couple in front, who seem to have quarrelled—at least the lady's voice sounds displeased. Too dark to see, but as I come nearer—is it only my nervous fancy that—? No, I can't be mistaken, thatisEthelspeaking now! "Why will you persist in speaking to me?" she is saying, "I don't know you—have the goodness to go away at once." Some impudent scoundrel is annoying her! Didn't know anything could make me so angry. I don't stop to think—before I know where I am, I have knocked the fellow down ... he can't be more surprised thanIam! It is all very well—but what is to become of me when hegets up again? He is sure to make a row, and I can't goonknocking him down! Must getEthelaway first, should not like to be pounded into shapelessness before her eyes. "MissDering," I say, "you—you had better go on—leave him to me," (it will probably be the other way, though!) "Mr.Coney!" she cries. "Oh, I am so glad!—but don't hurt him any more—please." He is getting up, as well as I can make out in the darkness, I am notlikelyto hurt him any more ... I wish he would begin, this suspense is very trying. Hehasbegun—to weep bitterly! Never was so surprised in my life; he is too much upset even to swear, simply sits in the gutter boohooing. If he knew how grateful I am to him! However, I tell him sternly to "think himself lucky it is no worse," and leave him to recover.
Must seeEthelsafe home after this. She and her fatherdidcome in the yacht—they are at the Royal Hotel, and she missed her way and her maid somehow, trying to find a Circulating Library. She really seems pleased to meet me. It is not an original remark—butwhata delight it is to listen to the clear fresh tones of a well-bred girl—not thatEthel's voice is anything to menow!She "can't imagine what I find to do in Starmouth,"—then she didnotrecognise me this afternoon, which is some comfort! I should like to tell her all, but it would be rather uncalled-for just now, perhaps. We talk on general matters, as we used to do. Singular how one can throw off one's troubles for the time—I am actuallygay!I can makeherlaugh, and what a pretty rippling laugh she has! We have reached the Hotel—already!
'So many guests invite as here are writ.'"So many guests invite as here are writ."—Shakspeare.
Now I am here, it would be rude not to go in and see oldDering. I do. He is most cordial. Am I alone down here? Critical, this. After all, Iamalone—in my lodgings. "Then I must come to luncheon on board theAmaryllisto-morrow."Ethel(Imustget into the way of thinking of her as "MissDering") looks as if she expects me to accept. I had better go, and find an opportunity of telling her aboutLouise—who knows—they might become bosom friends. No, hang it,that'sout of the question!
TheDerings'private room opens on to the Esplanade; oldDeringcomes to the French windows, and calls out after me, "Don't forget. Lunch at two. On board theAmaryllis—find her at the quay." "Thanks very much—Iwon'tforget. Good-night!" "Good-night!" Someone is waiting for me under a lamp. It isAlf, but I did not know him at first. "Why, where on earth!"—I begin. He regards me reproachfully with his one efficient eye, and I observe his nose is much swollen. Good heavens, I see it all—I have knocked down myfuture brother-in-law!Well, it serves him right.
He explains, sulkily; he meant no harm; never thought anyone would be offended by being spoken to civil;henever met girls like that before (which is likely enough); and to think I should have treated him that savage and brutal—it wasthatupset him. Tell him I am sorry, but I can't help it now. "Yes you can," he says, hoarsely. "You know this girl—this MissDerin'," (he has followed us, it appears, and caught her name)—"you don't ought to play dog in the mangernow—I want you to introduce me in a reg'lar way. I tell yer I'm down-right smitten." Introducehim—toEthel! Never, not if I won the V.C. for it! "Then youlook out!"
He has gone off growling—the cub! He will tellLouise. On second thoughts, his own share in the business may prevent that—but it is unfortunate.
Thrown over at a Watering-place.
Next Day.—Have got leave of absence (without mentioning reason). I believe I pleaded the Drama, as usual, and Ihavejotted down a line or two. Am dressing for luncheon—somehow I take longer than usual. Ready at last; the coast is clear, I am a trifle early, but I can stroll gently down to the quay.... Turn a corner, and come uponPonking, withLouise. Fancy both look rather confused, but they are delighted to see me. "Was I going any where in particular?" "No—nowhere in particular." "Then I'd better come along with them—they have dined early, and are doing the lions."Louisemakes such a point of it that I can't refuse—must watch my chance, and slip off when I can.
Later.—We have done an ancient gaol, the church, and a fishermen's almshouse—and I have not seen my chanceyet.Ponkingdetermined to see all he can for his money.Louise, more demonstrative than she has been of late, clings to my arm. It is past two, but we are working our way, slowly, towards the quay.Ponkingsuggests visit to Fisherring Establishment. Now is my chance; say I won't go in—don't like herrings—will wait outside. To my surprise, they actually meet me half-way! "If you want to get back to your play-writing, old chap," saysPonking(really not a bad fellow,Ponking!) "don't you mindus—we'll take care of one another!" Just as deliverance is at hand, that infernalAlfcomes up from the quay, with an eye that is positivelyiridescent!"Oh, look at his poor eye!" criesLouise. I look—and I see that he means "being nasty." He addresses me: "Why ain't you on board your swell yacht, taking lunch along with that girl, eh?" he inquires. Exclamations fromLouise: "Girl? yacht? who? what?" and then—it all comes out!
Painful scene; fortunate there are so few looking on.Louiserenounces me for ever opposite the Town-hall. "She knew I was a muff, but she had thought I was too much the gentleman to act deceitful!"Ponkingis of opinion I "haven't a gentlemanly action in me." So isAlf, who adds that he "always felt somehow he could never make a pal of me." There is balm inthat!
Thank goodness, it is over! I amfree—free to think ofEthelas much as I like! I see now what a wretched infatuation all this has been. I can tell her about it some day—if I think it necessary. I am not sure Ishallthink it necessary—at all events, just yet.
A love-lorn Romeo ready for his Beer.A love-lorn Romeo ready for his Beer.
I am a little late, but I can apologise for that. Odd—but I can't find theAmaryllisanywhere! Ask. A seaman on a post says "Therewasa yacht he see being towed out 'bout 'arf an hour back—he didn't take no partickler notice of her name." No doubt I mistook the moorings—better ask at hotel, perhaps. I do. Waiter says if I am the gentleman by name ofConey, there are two notes for me in Coffee-Room.
Open first—from Mr.Dering.
"Regrets; unforeseen circumstances—compelled to sail at once, and give up pleasure, &c."
Second—fromEthel; there is hope still—or would she write?
"Dear Mr.Coney,—So sorry to go away without seeing you. You might have told me of your engagement yourself, I think—I should have been so interested. Your brother-in-law and his aunt thought it necessary to call and inform us. We are delighted that you are having a pleasanter time here than you gave us to understand last night. With best wishes for all possible happiness," &c.
SothatwasAlf'srevenge—it was a good one! After that, I shake off the sand of Starmouth—for ever!
JOHN BULLA GOOD EXAMPLE.John Bull (loq). "Very kind of Her Majesty to let me see Her Jubilee Gifts; but I wonder when Her Advisers will allow me to see my Own!"
John Bull (loq). "Very kind of Her Majesty to let me see Her Jubilee Gifts; but I wonder when Her Advisers will allow me to see my Own!"
Crowd discovered besieging entrance to Staircase. Policeman examines bags for concealed Dynamite.
Loyal Old Lady (presenting reticule for inspection).Which there's nothing in it but a few cough-drops.
Policeman (exercising a very wise discretion).Pass on, Mother!
On the Stairs.
'Arry (to Halfred—taxing his memory).I dunno as I was ever 'ere before—wasyou?
Halfred (conscientiously).Not to remember.
A Deliberate Old Gentleman, full of suppressed general information (to his two boys).Now, the great thing is not to hurry—we shall find much deserving of careful study here.[Faces of boys lengthen perceptibly.
An Aunt (to Niece).You'd better go first,Eliza; then you can read it all out to me as we go along.
Confused Murmurs—"Where's Grandma?"—"Itisridiklous to go pushing like that!"—"Well, the Pit's a joke to this!" &c., &c.
In the State Apartments.
Delib. O. G.This, boys, is the ante-room, and here, you see, is a trophy presented by the Maha——[Puts on glasses, to inspect label.
Policeman (loudly).Now then, Sir, don't block the way, please,—keep moving![O. G. moves on, under protest, to secret relief of boys.
The Aunt (examining pair of Elephant Tusks set in carved Buffalo's Head).They may call them "tusks" if they like,Eliza,—but anyone can see they're horns. They belong to one of them "Cow-Elephants," depend upon it![Peers anxiously about in vain attempt to discover it.
Loyal Old Lady.There's nothing here but these caskets. I thought they'd the Jubilee Cake on view!
Visitor (in state of general gratification).Ha! they've given her some nice things among 'em, I must say. There, you see,—an arm-chair,—always come in useful, they do!
Female V.Jane, come here, quick! (They gaze reverentially on carved chest full of slippers.) That's what I call anicepresent, now,—but, if they were mine, I should unpick all that raised embroidery inside the soles before ever I put 'em on!
Jane.Well, I suppose she wouldn't only wear them when she's instate.
Policeman.Now, Ladies, please don't linger! Pass along, there!
The Well-informed Old G.You see this device, formed of green and yellow feathers, boys. Well, these feathers come from——
Policeman (as before).Don't stop the way, Sir, please!
Old G. (hanging on obstinately to barrier)——The Sandwich Islands, and are worn exclusively by—(is swept on by crowd, and wedged tightly against case containing samples of woollen products—boys dive under red cord, and escape).
Two Ladies (from the country).Those Policemen is like so many parrots, with their "Keep moving;" they don't give you time for a good look!That'sa handsome pair of jugs the Crown Prince and Princess give her, a little like the pair old Mr.Spudderwon with his Shorthorns at the Show, don't you think? Only more elaborate, p'raps. Tell me if you can see the Cake anywhere, my dear. I don't want to go away, and not seethat!
Intelligent Visitor.That's a curious thing, now. Look at that label, "Presented by——" and the name left blank!
A Jocular Visitor (seeing an opportunity).Too bad,Maria! I'm sure we wrote our names plainly enough![Sensation amongst bystanders, who regard the couple with respectful interest.
Maria (who considers this trifling with a serious subject).If I had known you were going to be sofoolish,George, I should not have come![Collapse ofGeorge.
A Practical Visitor.Now, there's a neat idea—d'ye see? A crown, made all out of tobaccer. There's somesensein giving a thing like that!
The Jocular Visitor (reviving at sight of embroidered Child's Frock in case).Pretty costume, that, eh,Maria? But do you thinkHer Gracious Majestywill ever be able toget it on?
Maria (horrified).I tell you what it is,George, if you go on making these stupid jokes, you will get us both turned out—if notworse!I'm sure that Policeman heard!
Loyal Old Lady.They've given her scent, and little brass-nailed boots, and cotton reels enough to set her up for life. But there, she deserves it all, bless her!
Party of Philistines (to one another.)You don't want to go in there—there's only a lot of water-colours presented by the British Institute. Let's see if we can find the Jubilee Cake!
Final Tableau.—At the General Exit.
Crush of enthusiastic Britons, gazing at a gigantic ornament from the Jubilee Cake. Various exclamations."All of it pure sugar, I shouldn't wonder!"—"What do you think ofthatfor a cake,Jemmy?"—"LiftJoeyup to have a look!"—"Well, I do call that grand!"
Loyal Old Lady (forcing her way to the front—disappointedly).But that's only thetrimmings!
A Bystander (correctively).You can't expect any Cake to keep long, with so many in the family; and, even as it is, you get some ideer what it must have been!
All (deeply impressed).Ah, you do, indeed—you get that! Well, I'm glad I came; I shan't forget this as long as I live![Exeunt awestruck—their places are taken by others, who gaze long and respectfully on the Cake. Scene closes in.
(At the Middlesex Hospital.)
Just been given what the newspapers call "the privileges and status of a true Collegian,"—in other words find I'm no longer to be allowed to live in the jolly old free-and-easy way, in one's own diggings, but am to be boxed up inside the Hospital instead! Hang the Authorities! Should like to cup them all.
Anyhow, got a decent room: can show it off to visitors. Visit from Oxbridge friend. Seems surprised at smallness of my apartment. Says it's "nothisidea of living in College: more like living inQuad," he adds, humorously. "Do I really mean to say," he asks, "that I am to sleep in same room I live in, with only a curtain between?" Have to confess such is the intention of the architect. He says, "if he was me, he'd complain to the Dean." Don't like to show ignorance—so don't ask him if he means Dean ofWestminsterorSt. Paul's.Oxbridge friend declines my invitation to "dine in Hall," and disappears.
Ah! They've given us a Smoking-room, anyhow. Is it a smoking-room? No—a "Library and Reading-room." Disgusting! Ring for brandy-and-soda. Nobody answers the bell! It seems the "Collegiate servants" go out of College between meals. Nothing to do, so amuse myself for an hour in Dissecting-room. Pine for freedom. Go to entrance and am stopped by Porter. Porter says, "Gentlemen not allowed to leave Hospital after dark without leave of House Surgeon." Tell Porter I'm a child of nature, and that I want to visit a dying relative. Porter incredulous—proposes sending one of the resident Physicians instead. No, thanks! Retire to room and think of old rollicking days. Nothing to do. Wonder if Porter would let me bleed him. No, perhaps he's not in the vein.
Hall Dinner.—Hate dining in common—reminds one of the Zoo. Student next to me verysloppy. Brings a bone in with him, and puts it on table, studying it between courses. Tell him, pleasantly, it'll be a bone of contention if he does not remove it. He doesn't understand. Replies, quite seriously, that it's the "os humeri."
After Dinner.—Tedious. Just the time when the "Lion Comique" is "coming on" at the Parthenon Music Hall. And I can't get out to hear him!
Later.—Had jolly spree, after all—also after Hall. Tied new curtains together and let myself down into street, amid yells of large crowd. Rather damaged right scapula, but can't be helped. Went to Gaiety; jolly supper, met Ben Allen and a lot of chappies, who are at Bart's and haven't any of these ridiculous Collegiate regulations, and had high old time. How to get back, though? Ay, "there's the rub,"—worse than rubbing scapula, too.
Boldest plan best. Rap Porter up. Porter surprised to see me. Says it's "past one o'clock," and wants to know how I got out. Tell him I'm a child of nature, and if he reports me to House Surgeon I shall certainly cup him to-morrow. Porter asserts, quite untruly, that I am intoxicated.
Next Day.—Authorities have heard how I escaped from Hospital last night. Also Porter—the idiot!—has complained that he goes in fear of his life because of my threats. On the whole, Hospital Authorities come to conclusion to ask me to leave, as "they think I am not fitted for Collegiate life," and I quite agree with them. Pack up, and pack off.
By the way, do you know McScrew?"UNCO GUID!"Southerner(in Glasgow, to Friend). "By the way, do you know McScrew?" Northerner. "Ken McScrew?" Oo' fine! A graund man, McScrew! Keeps the Sawbath, —an' everything else he can lay his Hands on!"
Southerner(in Glasgow, to Friend). "By the way, do you know McScrew?" Northerner. "Ken McScrew?" Oo' fine! A graund man, McScrew! Keeps the Sawbath, —an' everything else he can lay his Hands on!"
Quite a little Holiday.—The unfortunate Vacation Judge this year has been detained at Court or Chambers five times a week instead of (as in the olden days) thrice a fortnight. He must appreciate the meaning of "getting his head into Chancery"—and his wig too!
An Old Fable with a New Application.
(For the benefit of Bolton.)
Two bellicose goats once encountered each other in the middle of a narrow bridge spanning a deep gulf and a raging torrent. To pass each other seemed (to them) impossible, at least without much more careful and courteous mutual self-adjustment than either was at all disposed for. For one or the other to make way by temporarily backing, was, of course—to bellicose goats—entirely out of the question. The only alternative was clearly a butting-match.
THE TWO GOATS.
Our angry goats entered upon it with great gusto. Heads hotly encountered, horns angrily collided. The harder the hits the less did either feel disposed to give way.
But a narrow bridge over a deep gulf is a bad place for a battleà outrance. The infuriated animals quickly settled the point at issue, in a way as final as unpleasant, by butting each other over into the gulf, leaving the disputed path clear for the passage of creatures more conciliatory and less cantankerous.
Application.
Two objects cannot occupy the same space—even in Bolton. Battles upon bridges—even iron bridges—are bad things. A quarrel between two parties—even if they represent Capital and Labour—cannot be regarded as satisfactorily settled by the destruction of both—unless they are thieves, or Kilkenny cats. It is much easier to get into a gulf—even the gulf of Bankruptcy—than out of it. To parties expiring at the bottom of a gulf, into which they have hurled each other, it is small consolation to see more peaceful persons—though they be foreigners—making better use of the bridge which might have carried them both safely over.
A Collection of Thackeray's Letters(1847 to 1855.Smith & Elder).—It must have cost Mrs.Brookfielda good deal of mental anxiety before she decided upon giving publicity to this correspondence. But she has undoubtedly done well and wisely, as everybody interested in the personalThackeray, outside and away from his works, will gratefully acknowledge.Thackeraywas always fond of alluding to himself as the Showman with the puppets, or portraying himself as taking off the cap-and-bells when, from behind the grinning mask, peep out the sad eyes and the rueful countenance. Now in these Letters we are sometimes admitted behind the scenes, as, for instance, when he is just going to work; but, as a rule, we see him in his leisure, out for a holiday, amusing himself and others, and enjoying himself like an overgrown schoolboy full of fun and frolic, not a bit of a cynic, and there are no sad eyes and rueful countenance when the mask is off. The peculiar charm of these Letters is that they are so evidently private; there is nothing of theposeurabout them. They were never intended to be addressedurbi et orbi.
One favourite style of amusing himself in writing he had, which, by the way, rather calls to mind the wayMr. Peter Magnushad of amusing his friends, and that was mis-spelling, and spelling in Cockney fashion. How he must have revelled in writingJeames's Diary!The burlesque element of humour was irrepressible inThackeray, and found vent through pen and pencil. Nearly all his sketches, with remarkable exceptions, are, more or less, grotesque. Many of his Vignettes, with which he illustrated his novels, cannot fail to suggest a kind of Dicky-Doyleian humour. Two characteristics of the man are brought out strongly in these letters; first, his humility as regards his own work (he was proud in other matters), and, secondly, his generosity as exhibited in his unaffected admiration for the work ofCharles Dickens.
Occasionally we catch a glimpse of his religious tendencies, which are at one time influenced byJ. H. Newman, at another byJ. S. Mill; and it is interesting to read hisnaïveutterances about Scripture, showing that whatever lectures he may have attended at Cambridge, those on Divinity, or on the Greek Testament, could not have been among them. And this indeed is highly probable. His kindness of heart is evident throughout. His laughing at himself as a Snob when affecting the company of great people is delightful, though there seems to be in this self-ridicule something of the true word spoken in jest. He makes a burlesque flourish—so like him—about sending in "his resignation" toMr. Punch. As a matter of fact, he remained an honorary member ofMr. Punch'sCabinet Council, and retained his seat atMr. Punch'stable, up to the time of his death. The present writer remembersWilliam Makepeace Thackeraybeing frequently present inMr. Punch'sCouncil Chamber,Consule Marco. A most interesting, amusing, and instructive book, especially to literary men—(some novelists must be delighted at findingThackerayreading over the previous portions of his own serial in order to recall the names of his characters, and his frantic joy at hitting on the title ofVanity Fair)—is this collection ofThackeray'sLetters. To Mrs.Brookfieldour heartiest thanks are due.
Like and Unlike.By MissBraddon. Everybody who cares about a novel with a good plot so well worked out that the excitement is kept up through the three volumes and culminates with the last chapter of the story, must "Like" and can never again "Unlike," this the latest and certainly one of the best of MissBraddon'snovels. MissBraddonis our most dramatic novelist. Her method is to interest the reader at once with the very first line, just as that Master-Dramatist of our timeDion Boucicaultwould rivet the attention of an audience by the action at the opening of the piece, even before a line of the dialogue had been spoken. This authoress never wastes her own time and that of her reader, by giving up any number of pages at the outset to a minute description of scenery, to a history of a certain family, to a wearisome account of the habits and customs of the natives, or to explaining peculiarities in manners and dialect which are to form one of the principal charms of the story. No: MissBraddonis dramatic just as far as the drama can assist her, and then she is the genuine novelist. A few touches present her characters living before the reader, and the story easily developes itself in, apparently, the most natural manner possible.Like and Unlikewill make many people late for dinner, and will keep a number of persons up at night when they ought to be soundly sleeping. These are two sure tests of a really well-told sensational novel.ViveMissBraddon!
Your Own Book-Worm.
Shade ofBoswell, awake, arise! Know that the Lord Mayor of Lichfield, Mr.A. C. Baxter, has announced in theTimesthat the house Dr.Johnsonwas born in is put up for sale by auction on the 20th inst. Now, then, is the time for a big brewer who would like to get bigger, or any licensed victualler, with command of a moderate capital, to invest it in the purchase of the premises in which the great Lexicographer and Moralist first saw the light, and in the conversion of them into a public-house, to be called and known by the sign and name of "The Johnson's Head." A likeness of Dr.Johnson,copied by a competent Artist from the best of SirJoshua Reynolds'sportraits, and mounted on the signboard, would be sure to attract multitudes of respectable people, and others, besides forming a decoration of the tavern at Lichfield, and an ornament to that town. A pub. associated with one of the highest names in literature could hardly fail to be frequented by numerous bookmakers. The memory of Dr.Johnsonmight, however, be honoured by the preservation of his home for what many may consider a nobler purpose than that of a liquor-shop; and those who are of that opinion should look sharp and secure his birthplace by coming forward, and taking care that, when under the hammer, it shall be knocked down on their own account to the highest bidder. "The man who could make a pun would pick a pocket;" true, but he might prefer putting his hand in his own to commemorate the name of the greatSamuel, by helping to stand Sam.
Favourite Seasoning at the Guildhall Banquet on the 9th of November.—Sauce à la Maître d'Hôtel.
Pointing hand
NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.
NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.
Transcriber's Notes:Obvious punctuation errors repaired.The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text willappear.P. 179. changed 'shoppy' to 'sloppy'.P. 180. 'developes' (sic). Probably not an error. "and the story easily developes itself"
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text willappear.
P. 179. changed 'shoppy' to 'sloppy'.
P. 180. 'developes' (sic). Probably not an error. "and the story easily developes itself"