The Angel and the Author, and Others

had not los

it would be so helpful if, like the dog, we possessed a tail that wagge

says our hostess; "don't wait to be as

losing of doors. We are shown into the drawing-room, the maid, breathless from her search, one supposes, having discovered that her mistress is at home. We stand

ee us, or is she saying to herself, "Drat the man! Why must he ch

rs of anxiety could we look beyond her smiling face to her tail peeping out saucily from

oled them to wag enthusiastically the while we were growling savagely to ourselves. Man put o

are mad or not is a matter of opinion. Their ideas are certainly peculiar. They encourage him rather than otherwise to tell the truth on all occasio

rude little

t," he explains; "I told

he is already an influence. People who have braved the ord

s would always

a small south German town organizing for one winter's day a sleighing party to the woods. A sleighing party differs from a picnic. The people who want each other cannot go off together and lose themselves, leaving the bores to find only each other. You are in close company from early morn till late at night. We were to drive twenty miles, six in a

mpk

able. Tompkins alone could be trusted to make the affair a success. Tompkins, who had only arrived that afternoon, was pointed out to our chieftainess.

ed in triumph, followed by a dismal-looking man I had met the year before

happier. I will call him Johnson.) "He would turn the whole thing into a funeral before we were half-way there. I c

I explained-"the thing you've brought over. Why on earth

thought it was Tompkins. I've i

ndows open. One of our party-a German student-sang, "Deutschland, Deutschland über alles,"-which led to a heated discussion on the proper place of sentiment in literature, and a general denunciation by Johnson of Teutonic characteristics in general. We did not dance. Johnson said that, of course, he spoke only for himself, but the sight of middle-aged ladies and gentlemen catching hold of each other roun

recisely the same terms she would have applied to Tompkins, who, by unflagging good

obtained his

uperior to compliment-nobody is-but because I cannot be sure that they mean it. They would say just the same had they never read a line I had written. If I visit a house and find a book of mine open face downwards on

man J--- is comin

would tell me of these

u last week. Your memor

or I should have remembered

; write

s?-I mean, is he q

se sort of people go everywhere nowadays. By the

. If you had let me know in time I c

to town; I'll make sur

oney. Won't you be going

e bought a copy. It will do for

ation may have been very diffe

ing. I have been longin

have left it on her favourite seat beneath the window. The knowledge that insincerity is our universal garment has reduced all

ave so little time for re

en an inveterate wag, who had ove

e Hearth,'" he told h

e evening boring most evidently that literary lion with elongated praise of the "Cloister and the Hearth" and "Adam Bede." They were among the few

n of himself. He told me he considered both bo

to a play of his own. It was after a little dinner at Kettner's; they suggested the theatre, and he thought he would give them a treat. He did not mention to them that he was the author

this rot,"

The well-known dramatist followed them out. He

a Canadian farmer, a frank, amiable girl, bewitchingly pretty, with more character in her little finger th

ld do Parlour Trick

ed him, "how

," he answered. "She has only got one

t over that,

he replied; "it's a

ding her into dif

ng quite out of the common-which is the truth, if only she could understand it-why did she never think of taking up music as a profession? By this time she is wondering herself that she never did. They are not satisfied with hearing her once. They ask for more, and they get it. The other evening I had to keep quiet on my chair while she thumped through four pieces one after the other, including the Beethoven Sonata. We knew it was the Beethoven Sonata. She told us before she started it was going to be the Beethoven Sonata, otherwise, for all any of us could have guessed, it might have been the 'Battle of Prague.' We all sat round with wooden faces, staring at our boots. Afterwards those of them that couldn't get near enough to her to make a fool of

he World

e is a pretty girl and they are anxious she should go on spoiling herself. She bought a hat last week, one day when I was not with her. It only wants the candles to look like a Christmas tree. They insist on her taking it off so they may examine it more closely, with the idea of having one built like it for themselves; and she sits by delighted, and explains to them the secret of the thing. We get to parties half an hour before the opening time; she is afraid of bein

lly game; what is the sense

not te