CHAPTER XXIV
A letter from Anna awaited me on my return to the vicarage, from which I copy as much as it is fit for other eyes than mine to see.
"An armourer in Amsterdam has made himself a name and great gain by a shirt of mail, which is said to be verily pistol proof, and, at the same time, more light and flexible than any heretofore made. I have sent one for you, and one for your friend, and trust they will come to hand in time, and prove as useful as our military friends say they are. It will be great joy to me, if the idle gew-gaws with which they were bought have been converted into stout and serviceable covering for the breast of my reckless soldier and his comrade. I try to persuade myself that danger flees from those who court it, for well I know you will ever be in the forefront of battle, when you anywise may. But for my sake, pray remember that there is a soldierly prudence.
"We have been here at the Hague for some weeks, my father having been called in to consult with the Stadtholder's physician; but in a few days we go to Leyden, where a professorship has been found for my father. Strangely enough, my father has made acquaintance with yours, who had some business with the Stadtholder, and they fell into a mutual liking, before either knew the other's name. If they had but met in Axholme, how many evils might have been averted! Mr. Vavasour is about to go on some secret embassy to the East, at the instance of friends, who are in authority at Venice. Doubtless you know more of these Italian gentlemen. He spent more than an hour with us in our lodging, and made me think him a great and magnanimous man, who might have done the state much service, if he had been more highly placed. But he has sorely lacked woman's counsel to remind him of the near duty and the plain, homely wisdom which women have by instinct. Be you warned in time, my Frank. Your father has ruined his estate for want of a housewife's wit!
"You will be pleased to know that his leave-taking with me had a touch of fatherliness....
"There is high dispute among the natural philosophers at Leyden whether it be true that some trees produce flowers but no fruit, and others fruit without flowers. My father bids me ask your answer to these questions following: Do oaks and beeches bear no flowers? Do the elm, poplar, and box bear neither flower nor fruit? He is reconciled to having you as a son-in-law, partly by the quickness and sureness with which you see and observe! Said he to me but yesterday, 'If Frank were here, I believe I could prove that fruit is preceded by blossom far more often than has been supposed.' Yes; he called you 'Frank.' How I wish you were here, instead of preparing for Sweden and all the chances and horrors of the battlefield! Is it utterly impossible for you to come here before you join the army of King Gustavus?"
When I had read and re-read my letter, and while I was giving my aunt the news it contained, and the messages for herself, Dick Portington came in to bid me to a supper the next evening at the White Hart, where a number of old friends would meet, to wish me a good voyage, and drink to our next merry meeting. Although I had no great inclining to a banquet on the last evening before my departure, I could not bring my mind to offend my well-wishers by a refusal.
Dame Hind outdid herself in the provision she made for the feast, which was spread in the "court-room," the same in which Commissioner Tunstall had trouble with the wasps. Squire Stovin presided, whose ancestor was chief of the bowmen in the army of the Conqueror at Senlac Field. He was accounted one of the wisest and boldest gentlemen of the Isle. With him was his son George, a little older than I, and a good comrade. There were present also Squire Mell of Belton, and his son, who had stood by me at Belshaw, and Dick Portington and his father, the Squire of Tudworth, and some other gentlemen (twelve or more) whose names have not appeared in my pages, besides a few men of humbler condition, among them being Daft Jack and my man Luke.
Over supper the talk at our table ran on the affairs of the nation; the seizure of our ships by the Duke of Epernon, and the coming war with France; the mystery of the policy of the King, or rather of the Duke of Buckingham. Some one voiced the opinion that the favourite had deep designs, incomprehensible to the vulgar. Squire Stovin laughed in contempt.
"Say 'contradictory to all the adages of common folk' and I am with you. 'You cannot have your cake and eat your cake,' runs the saw; Buckingham thinks he can. He believes the sky will rain potatoes, if he wishes it. He rules England just as much as the weathercock on my barn rules the wind."
"We may hope for better days, think you not," asked Squire Mell, "since the judges have at last taken a stand, and declared the new loan illegal?"
"I see not much promise in that, since the King's answer is to dismiss Sir Randal Carew from his Chief Justiceship," replied Stovin. "That is as high-handed a piece of tyranny as the sale of our land over our heads to the Dutchman; and the country takes it as tamely as we have ta'en the loss of our property and our rights."
"There are more than fifty gentlemen of the county committed to prison for refusing to pay the money demanded," said one.
"Ten of them had been appointed commissioners to collect the loan," said another.
"I heard a rumour the other day," said a third, "that the Earl of Lincoln is to be sent to the Tower."
"These are not times for our young men to be enlisting for foreign service; there will be civil war in England before we are much older," declared Squire Portington.
"There's not much sign of it yet," growled Stovin. "We are too white-livered for 't. But 'tis no bad thing some of our lads should learn how to win battles under a master of the art."
"Vavasour and Drury will be apt pupils, I warrant," said the younger Mell. "He is a good captain who knows how to get the victory when he is outnumbered three to one, and the enemy has horsemen and he footmen only. How the Mulgrave men fled at Belshaw!"
"Nay, the chief credit for that must be put down to thee," I replied.
"The Mulgrave men are not likely to be the tools of oppression in future," remarked Squire Mell. "The young earl is reducing the number of his train. And I have it on good authority that he has put the case of the Isle Commoners to my Lord Scrope in a new light. He is a just young man, and judicious beyond his years."
"The guest of the evening has reason to think so," some one said.
"Owes Frank for his coronet," another shouted.
"His earldom came to him by the judgment of the Almighty," answered Mell, gravely. "We know Vavasour had no intent to kill Lord Sheffield on the best of testimony—that of Frank himself, who would not lie to save his neck."
"'A speaks as straight as 'a hits and shoots," cried a voice from the other table.
"For my part," continued Mell, "I applaud the earl's courage in despising misconstruction."
"What is the meaning of the uproar below?" asked Portington, as we all listened to a noise of voices in anger and alarm, which came through the side door, just opened for the carrying out of the remnants of supper.
At the same moment, a servant rushed into the room, almost breathless.
"Would your honour condescend to come to give order what's to be done with a murthering villain?" she panted toward Squire Stovin.
A dozen men hurried forward, but the squire called out—
"Order, gentlemen. Be so good as to remain until I have seen what's the matter. Portington, Drury, Vavasour, follow me."
At first we could scarcely see, the change being great from the light of many wax candles to the dimness of the few tallow dips in tin sconces of the common room of the inn; but shortly we discerned a fellow held down on a chair by two men, Host Hind standing over him with a stout cudgel in his hand, and a group of labourers and the like, who had been disturbed at their potations, as was plain by an overturned table, and a quantity of liquor spilled on the floor, and the shards of a broken jug. Briefly told, the matter stood thus: the man now on the chair had come, wrapped in a horseman's long cloak, and wearing a big beard; had called for Schiedam, and sat drinking by himself. A wandering cripple who played a pipe had entertained the company with the tricks of a Barbary ape, which made the round of the room after the performance, holding out a box for the gifts of the liberal. When the man in the cloak took no heed of him, the animal had pulled at his beard, which came off in his paw, whereupon the man had struck the beast, and the beast had instantly fastened his teeth in the man's hand. A scuffle followed, the stranger beating and trying to shake off the ape, its owner endeavouring to save the animal from the heavy blows which the stranger dealt on its head, and the company making confusion worse by crowding on the queer combatants. As soon as the ape had been struck down, the stranger had kicked it furiously, and also its owner the cripple, which stirred the ire of the spectators, who seized him, calling him a brutish villain. In struggling with them, the man had lost his cloak, revealing pistols in his belt, one of which he had pulled out, threatening to shoot. Host Hind had rapped him over the knuckles with his cudgel, called on two stout fellows to hold him, and sent a servant to Justice Stovin.
"Hold up your head, and let me have a closer sight of you; you and I have met before, or I am grossly mistaken."
So saying, the Squire took a candle from the wall, and passed it before the man's face, and I saw it was Vliet.
"Let every man in the room go elsewhere for a few minutes, barring the landlord and the gentlemen who accompanied me."
When the order had been obeyed, the Squire bade Hind to pinion the prisoner. Vliet looked at me with murderous eyes, but sullenly submitted.
"Now I have saved you from being made dogs' meat," said the Squire. "If the honest fellows in the house knew you were the Sebastian Vliet who escaped from arrest on the charge of attempted murder, and guessed you were lurking here, disguised, expecting that it would be easy to shoot a man, merry with wine, and thinking no evil, they would tear you limb from limb—small blame to them. Do you understand me?"
"If you permit," said John to the Squire, "I will be your interpreter."
Squire Stovin nodded, and there ensued some interchange of speech between the two.
"You have said much more than I did," quoth the Squire.
"I added a word of advice about the ape's bite, for which I received some choice Dutch blasphemy."
"What was the advice?"
"To allow me to apply a white-hot poker to the wound. The bite of an ape is a nasty thing."
"And what was the reply?" asked Dick.
"Stripped of the cursing, it was to the effect that my gentleman could make better use of a hot poker than to burn himself with it. Excuse me from repeating the precise terms: they were not in the best taste."
"Give him to understand that he will be removed to the lock-up, where he will be strongly guarded, and committed to Lincoln to-morrow."
"And you will give order that his hurt be looked to, will you not, Squire?" I put in.
"Why, in Heaven's name, should I concern myself about his rascally carcase? Why you should, God only knows."
I certainly did not know; but, nevertheless, a sort of pity had filled me for the wretched man, who had lost so much; love, above all, health, as his bloated face and body showed, his money, as I suspected from his threadbare garments, and every remnant of gentility and self-respect, as he proved by look and word and tone. Poor soldier of fortune though I was, I had infinite wealth in comparison.
"Well, be it so," said the Squire. "I will send for Tankersley."
Then Vliet burst out into a torrent of oaths in English, and the Squire bade John and me return to our friends, while he took measures for the safe custody of the prisoner. When we had satisfied the curiosity of our friends, and the Squire reappeared, the festivities went on again. After the King's health had been drunk, the Squire wishing him "wiser counsellors," my old friend made a speech about me, in which he said far more than it would be decent for me to write, even if I could remember it all. But some of his words dealt with the state of things in the Isle, and are, in my judgment, well worthy of remembrance.
"There have been Vavasours at Temple Belwood more than two hundred years, and most of them gentlemen of a public mind, but none more so than our 'solicitor,' Thomas Vavasour. He has lost his patrimony in defending our rights and properties. In all likelihood, he would not have relinquished his estate, but for his belief that his son was dead, and right sure I am that every gentleman in the Isle would have done what in his power lay, to retain the honourable family of Vavasour in its rightful seat. I may say that I, for one, endeavoured to persuade our solicitor to accept contributions from the Isle Commoners, towards the expenditure needful to maintain our cause, and I think it an error in judgment that he declined, but it was the error of a proud and generous man, and, moreover, of a man who had confidence in the administration of law in this country. His confidence was so far justified, that the highest court of law in the land decided in his favour, as it was bound to do. Mr. Vavasour did not expect that law and justice would be overridden by royal prerogative. No man expected that. We have fallen on evil times, when a man's property may be taken from him by a stronger than he, on the plea that the stronger man can make a better use of it than the rightful owner. You may by and by have Charles and Cornelius walking into your grounds. They see a lake. Says Cornelius to Charles, 'I should like to fill up that lake, and grow potatoes there.' 'Says Charles to Cornelius, 'Give me so much, and you may.' And in spite of law and equity and reason, because Charles and Cornelius are giants, and you are a man of ordinary size, they do as they please. And they have the impudence to call themselves benefactors for growing potatoes where no potatoes grew before! But I crave pardon, gentlemen, for threshing this old straw over again. I will add but this: We have learned to our cost that the Dutchman's plans are as bad as his title. So the men of the south of the Isle have learned, and those who live on the border of the West Riding. I am sure the outfall will be choked up in a few years. The whole business is wrong, and will end in the ruin of the projectors, and then the inhabitants of the Isle may regain their rights. We are not likely to receive amends for our losses, I fear. One of our losses is the banishment of our solicitor and of his son, our guest."
The remainder of the Squire's speech was given to commendation of me, and good wishes for my future prosperity. The health was drunk with cheering enough to shake the rafters, which was renewed, when I made the best reply I could to the kind things said by the Squire, and shouted from end to end of the tables.
Then the younger Mell called on us in a pleasant vein of talk to drink the health of John Drury; and John made a speech, full of merry quips and jests, that set us all laughing and put formality to rout.
While tongues were wagging of blithesome days in the forest, now no more to be enjoyed, of salmon-spearing in Trent, of otter hunts in Don, of duck-shooting on the meres, and the like sports and pastimes of the Isle, the wine flowing freely, and every other man blowing a cloud of tobacco-smoke from his lips, the landlord came to whisper in my ear that some one, whose name I did not catch, begged to have a word with me.
"Speak up, mine host," said I. "Who is it?"
"'Tis lawyer Gibberd from Hatfield, on pressing business, he says. And pressing it must be to bring such as he out on this bitter night. His feet were frozen to the stirrups, and his face and hands were awmost dead, but we've rubbed 'em well with snow. Says he's been well-high flayed out of his wits by highwaymen. He's been to the vicarage, and they sent him on here."
Before Hind had ended, nearly every one in the room was listening; and when I rose to go with him, wondering what this Gibberd, whose name I did not remember having heard, could want with me, Squire Stovin said—
"We have had one queer fish here this evening. By your leave, Vavasour, I will see whether the man is Gibberd."
I bowed and sat down, and the Squire went out, the younger Mell attending him. They returned shortly, bringing an elderly man with them, who blinked and coughed and trembled, as he took the chair placed for him.
"Fill a cup of brandy-wine for Mr. Gibberd," ordered the Squire. "Drink it off, man, and then tell Vavasour your news."
When the man of law had quaffed his drink, and coughed again, he began—
"You will pardon my intrusion on this festive occasion, and at this late hour, urgent business being my excuse. Indeed, if it had not been of a most pressing nature, I should not have faced the rigour of the weather, and the perils of the road, for I am by habit a home-keeping man, and not accustomed to be abroad after dark, especially at this time of the year. But as I chanced to hear, quite by accident, of your intention to leave the country to-morrow, though I was not fully assured of the truth of the information, I thought myself in duty bound to use the utmost haste and diligence in acquainting you with facts of the utmost consequence, being, in a sense, your professional adviser, at least for the immediate present, and as I hope and trust in the future also."
"Poor man! the frost has touched his brain," said Dick.
"But not his tongue," laughed John.
"If you can come to the point, I shall be obliged, Mr. Gibberd," said I.
Mr. Gibberd coughed, helped himself to a little more liquor, and continued—
"I had the honour to be the legal adviser of the late Mr. Staniforth, who died yesterday, very suddenly at the last, poor gentleman, though in my experience it is always sudden. Perhaps I should more correctly say 'observation,' but no matter. Of late, Mr. Staniforth has found comfort in making several testamentary dispositions of his property; since the death of his much-lamented son, he has done so often——"
"Let's have an end to this prolixity, man," thundered Squire Stovin. "You made poor old Staniforth's last will and testament? Is that what you mean?"
"I did."
"And he has left something to Mr. Frank Vavasour, eh?"
"He has left to Mr. Frank Vavasour, on condition of his taking the name of Staniforth, his house known as Staniforth Hall, his——"
"Cut it short, Mr. Gibberd; spare us the language of the law," said I.
"Everything he had is yours, Mr. Vavasour; his property in Staniforth, Sykehouse, Fishlake, Cowick, Baln, and Pollington; his money out on mortgage——"
Dick jumped up. "Fill your cups, gentlemen. Here's to Frank Vavasour-Staniforth, or Staniforth-Vavasour, wishing him joy of his inheritance, and then three times three."
What an uproar the good fellows made! And when they had finished the three times three, some one shouted "One more!" and then another called for "Just a little one," and another for "A good one to end up with."
And so they went on, until they had made themselves hoarse and dry. Luke came and stood behind my chair.
"Ye can't do bout a bodysarvant now, Measter Frank. 'Tis my place. No running your head again' cannon bullets i' forrin parts, now. When be we agoin' to Holland?"
John gripped my hand, saying, "I suppose Providence makes no mistakes, but I could wish this stroke had not come just now. I hoped to see you a colonel at least, but Mistress Goel will forbid it."
"The first thing to be done," I answered, "is to go to the help of that worthy man in Hull."
"To-morrow, early," he answered heartily.
While this passed, the room was full of clamour of talk and laughter, which grew louder every moment, until Squire Stovin's great voice called for order.
"Gentlemen," said he, "this has been a trying time for our guest. I never heard that coming in to fortune killed a man, but this sudden change in our friend's affairs is something of a shock. If you will accept my ruling, we will drink a parting cup, and go home. Frank shall invite us to a merry meeting as soon as he finds it convenient."
To this all agreed, and at length, after much handshaking, John and I walked together to the vicarage.
"You, too, will renounce the Swedish project," said I.
"Nay," he answered; "if I don't go abroad, I shall turn gipsy."
THE END
NOVELS BY WILLIAM J. LOCKE
Jaffery
Crown 8vo. 6s.
Press Opinions
"'Jaffery' is certainly a novel on which the sun should shine. Mr. Locke has never written a better story than it contains, nor has he ever written anything in which there glowed more brightly his faith in human character.... It adds to the author's reputation without altering its character."—Standard.
"'Jaffery' will strengthen the hold Mr. Locke has on his great following. It is a better book than any of the last two or three he has given us. It has the advantage of telling a story. If 'Jaffery' does not 'boom' even as Adrian Boldero's stolen novel 'The Diamond Gate' 'boomed,' then will the effect of the war on fiction be greater than we deemed or have found it."—Daily Chronicle.
"The story is full of interest and incident, it has both pathos and humour, and all those romantic qualities always associated with Mr. Locke's work, and is written with all that characteristic charm of manner and joyous love of life which make his novels so welcome."—Globe.
"In 'Jaffery' Mr. Locke has given us one of the most engaging of his many engaging novels.... Presented wittily, gracefully, and with a fine romantical good humour, they enliven the world of fiction and of fact amazingly."—Observer.
"With 'Jaffery' one may forget everything else. The book bubbles over with the gaiety of life. Good-humoured, kindly natured, with its pleasant literary flavour and scintillating wit, it is a true Locke story of the first class."—Truth.
"Mr. Locke has added another humorous portrait to his already large gallery of fantastic creations.... Ras Fendihook is a miniature masterpiece, and we are forced to believe in Barbara, the shrewdly kind wife of the raisonneur."—Times.
Simon the Jester
Crown 8vo, 6s; also Popular Edition, Cloth, Crown 8vo, 1s net.
Press Opinions
W. L. COURTNEY in The Daily Telegraph.—"You will not put down the book until you have read the last page. The story is not the main part of Mr. Locke's book. It is the style, the quality of the writing, the atmosphere of the novel, the easy pervasive charm ... which makes us feel once more the stirring pulses and eager blood of deathless romance."
Morning Post.—"We thoroughly recommend 'Simon the Jester,' and can promise an enjoyable time in the company of the miscellaneous assortment of people from all ranks and classes who dance through its pages to Mr. Locke's many tunes."
Standard.—"It is much the best of his sentimental stories, without forgetting for an instant the illiterate Carlotta and the gushing Paragot; the writing of it has a style, a grace, that owes something to the immortal author of 'Sylvestre Bonnard' and 'M. Bergeret à Paris'."
The Beloved Vagabond
Crown 8vo, 6s; also Popular Edition, Cloth, Crown 8vo, 1s net.
Press Opinions
Morning Post.—"It would not be surprising if 'Beloved Vagabond' became the favourite novel of the season.... This fantastic and enlivening book."
Truth.—"Certainly it is the most brilliant piece of work Mr. Locke has done."
Daily Telegraph.—"Mr. Locke, who has a happy gift for characterisation, and who writes in the easy cultured style of the scholar, has been quite successful in delineating his hero."
Liverpool Courier.—"'The Morals of Marcus Ordeyne' was emphatically the book of a year. It was irresistible. 'The Beloved Vagabond' is in many respects a better book. Mr. Locke is an artist in method and in style. English so distinguished and so unaffected as he employs is a refreshment to the reader, and the spirit of the tale, with its beautiful, touching and mellow humanity, its wisdom and its poetry, is deeply impressive. It is a memorable book."
Globe.—"Mr. Locke's novel abounds in delightful dialogue."
The Glory of Clementina Wing
Crown 8vo, 1s; also Popular Edition, Cloth, Crown 8vo, 1s net.
Press Opinions
Times.—"Mr. Locke is a master of many spells."
Daily Telegraph.—"Mr. Locke may feel assured that both Clementina and Quixtus will become favourites with his readers, and that neither the rough idiosyncracies of Clementina, nor the amiable fatuity of Dr. Quixtus, will readily pass into the limbo of forgotten things."
MR. JAMES DOUGLAS, Star.—"The best novel Mr. Locke has written since he produced his masterpiece, 'The Beloved Vagabond.' Into it he has poured all his powers ... the story is a real story with a real plot, real human beings, real human emotions, and a real development of character. The story holds you from start to finish. You cannot lay it down. And over that story there is a perpetual play of that airy humour and fantastic gaiety with which Mr. Locke alone among living novelists knows how to enchant his readers."
Daily Chronicle.—"The tale is a very good thing indeed, one worthy and truly characteristic of an author who is reaping a golden harvest of appreciation, well deserved. 'The Glory of Clementina Wing' is very enjoyable. It runs trippingly throughout, and in characterisation, style, and dialogue deserves the laurels."
Globe.—"Clementina is a real triumph for Mr. Locke. He has certainly never drawn a more living character, or one whose charm is more certain. It is not necessary to emphasise the individuality of Mr. Locke's style and treatment. His latest effort is characteristically felicitous and unconventional in outlook, and possesses much of the poetry of virile romance.... A delightful work."
Sunday Times.—"With that style of his that is at once so fastidious and so charming, so illusive and so easy, Mr. Locke sets out the tale of his Quixtus's misfortunes, and in the meantime paints a very engaging portrait of this student-solicitor."
Observer.—"Mr. Locke's best ... Clementina Wing and Dr. Quixtus are the two most adorable characters that Mr. Locke has ever brought together in holy wedlock.... The phrases are Locke's most debonairly witty."
Eye-Witness.—"A very soothing, charming, and sparkling piece of work."
Truth.—"Of all adventures into the realms of fantastic fiction there is none quite so daring, certainly none so much at home, as Mr. Locke. The novel will add to its writer's reputation."
Evening Times.—"In this work Mr. Locke gets back to the irresponsible joyousness of 'The Beloved Vagabond,' and he will add by it countless numbers to his host of admirers. In no book of his do we have more admirable characterisation of eccentric persons...."
The Joyous Adventures of Aristide Pujol
With Illustrations by ALIC BALL. Crown 8vo, 6s; also Popular Edition Cloth, Crown 8vo, 1s net.
Press Opinions
Pall Mall Gazette.—"At all times he is the best of company, and he will rank among the best and most charming of Mr. Locke's creations. 'The Joyous Adventures' will add greatly to the author's fame, for rare indeed is literary work of such colour and vivacity."
Clarion.—"It is a grand book this. A jolly, delightful book, for though a tear gleams here and there, the great characteristic of the book is laughter. A most audacious book, a most enchanting book, and such a perfectly fascinating hero."
Globe.—"'Aristide Pujol' is one of Mr. Locke's happiest creations."
Bystander.—"I could say much more about this engaging and delicious and fairy-hearted book had I room, but, as I have already said, criticism is not wanted. Aristide Pujol will make friends wherever he goes."
Outlook.—"It leaves us the richer for a friend."
Tatler.—"For a really humorous, whimsical story let me recommend 'The Joyous Adventures of Aristide Pujol.' It will even put a pessimist in exceeding good humour with himself and the world at large. We have laughed and we have cried, and most of us will, I fancy, have found a new friend."
Sketch.—"The oft-repeated word 'brilliant' seems still the one word possible."
Scotsman.—"The book is one of Mr. Locke's best."
Sunday Times.—"Any novel reader with any taste for the fantastic will revel in these truly 'Joyous Adventures'."
Vanity Fair.—"Written with rare distinction and charm 'The Adventures of Aristide Pujol' have an allure and a fascination all their own; they are quite the best work Mr. Locke has done since he described the wanderings of another Frenchman, Paragot, 'the beloved vagabond'."
Onlooker.—"Here we have this delightful writer at his brightest."
Birmingham Daily Post.—"A wholly delightful creation."
Court Journal.—"One of the cheeriest, brightest, and most delightful books of the season."
Academy.—"Aristide Pujol is a creation of genius."
Referee.—"Aristide Pujol indeed is irresistible."
BY A. NEIL LYONS
Kitchener Chaps
Cloth, Crown 8vo, 1s net.
Press Opinions
Times.—"Mr. Neil Lyons writes as the friend and observer of the new army.... Mr. Lyons ... is a master of cockney humour.... As to nearly everything that Mr. Lyons' 'cockneys' say we have an instinctive feeling that it is exactly right."
Morning Post.—"It is, on the one side, an antidote to the sentimental and mawkish, and on another a supplement to what may be called the purely professional soldier tale. It should be widely read."
Outlook.—"A writer who in such times as these sets out to make us laugh—and succeeds in his amiable intent—deserves praise."
Sunday Times.—"Here you will say is the very man to take down the talk of the humbler members of Lord Kitchener's Armies, and you will be right. You will laugh heartily over ... 'Kitchener Chaps.'"
Evening Standard.—"These stories are excellently conceived and artistically executed. There is no sense of anti-climax about them ... for side-shaking merriment the veracious history of 'Private Blood' will not soon be forgotten."
Daily Express.—"Mr. Neil Lyons' sketches of the recruits in the new army are splendid humorous and human pen pictures, almost the first genuine literature that the war has produced."
Tatler.—"And when you have finished it and read many of the sketches a second time, as you will want to do, send it anywhere, where there is a soldier."
Arthur's.
The Romance of a Coffee Stall
Crown 8vo, Cloth, 1s net; also Library Edition, Crown 8vo, 6s.
Press Opinions
Times.—"Very pretty comedy ... not only a very entertaining and amusing work, but a very kindly and tolerant work also. At the back of it is understanding and love of life, and that most admirable frame of mind for an artist, the live-and-let-live temperament."
Morning Post.—"An outspoken and withal a kindly work, allowing a power of clear observation, and an interesting and unusual milieu in which to display it."
Manchester Guardian.—"'Arthur's' can cordially be recommended.... Mr. Lyons seems to have the animating gift as well as the seeing eye, and a kindly humour in selection and treatment brings out the light and warmth of the stall rather than its flare and smell."
Daily Chronicle.—"Arthur and his cronies will live among the Londoners of fiction beside the bargees of Mr. Jacobs and the inmates of 'No. 5 John Street.'"
Sixpenny Pieces
Third Edition, Crown 8vo, 6s.
Press Opinions
Evening Standard.—"'Sixpenny Pieces' is as good as 'Arthur's.' ... For a book full of laughter and tears and bits innumerable that one feels impelled to read aloud, 'Sixpenny Pieces' would be very hard indeed to beat."
Standard.—"It is a book that no one can afford to neglect. Both as literature and as life its appeal is irresistible."
Morning Post.—"Mr. Neil Lyons is a shrewd, penetrating, and sympathetic observer of the lives of the poor. Two of the most delightful characters we have met in fiction."
Pall Mall Gazette.—"It is pure, fast, sheer life, salted with a sense of humour; and the reader is sure of being lured as cunningly from sixpenny bit to sixpenny bit."
Cottage Pie
A Country Spread
Third Edition, Crown 8vo, 6s.
Times.—"Marked with the humour and grip with which Mr. Lyons visualizes an episode, and by his remarkable power of transcribing the talk of the less educated classes of the community."
Clara
Some Scattered Chapters in the Life of a Hussy
Crown 8vo, 6s.
Pall Mall Gazette.—"It is doubtful whether since Dickens anyone has caught so exactly, and presented to us so artistically as Mr. Lyons, the sharp shrewd wit and the rich though acrid humour of the London gutter."
Simple Simon.
His Adventures in the Thistle Patch
With 8 Illustrations by G. E. Peto. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Outlook.—"A rollicking sense of fun, an almost unbearable seriousness, a keen observation, a kind heart, and a genius entirely his own are among Mr. Neil Lyons' assets for writing."
Moby Lane and Thereabouts
A Sussex Confection
Crown 8vo, 6s.
BY FORD MADOX HUEFFER
The Good Soldier
Crown 8vo, 6s.
Press Opinions
Daily News and Leader.—"And when one has come to the end of this beautiful and moving story, it is worth while reading the book over again simply to observe the wonders of its technique ... indeed this is a much, much better book than any of us deserve."
Observer.—"So absorbing that one has the puerile itch to look at the end.... There are not three people in England who could have told it, or two who could have told it just that way."
Globe.—"This book is going to add enormously to Mr. Hueffer's reputation as a novelist. It is ... an amazingly clever psychological study ... it is a novel that is going to be read."
Daily Telegraph.—"There is the excellent writing, the play of imagination, the delicate attention to character that holds the mind in all his best work."
Sunday Times.—"Mr. Ford Madox Hueffer is a literary artist with a big future before him ... it is extremely effective and magnificently true."
Outlook.—"This novel ... is amazingly well written."
Truth.—"The story is told with such astonishing artfully artless naturalness that it absorbs you from the first page to the last."
Evening Standard.—"It is ... among the very best he has turned out yet ... of Mr. Ford Madox Hueffer's many new veins, this would seem one of the richest."
Love-Birds in the Coco-Nuts
By PETER BLUNDELL.
Author of "The Finger of Mr. Blee."
Crown 8vo, 6s.
Press Opinions
Daily Telegraph.—"It is pleasant indeed at a time of severe trial, such as the present, to be able to take up a book that shall compel relaxation of a thoroughly healthy kind, that shall in our hours off duty provide such entertainment as is the most delightful and refreshing diversion, ... Ferdinard Fernandez ... is one of the most humorous people whom we have encountered in recent fiction.... To all who seek fresh and hearty amusement Mr. Peter Blundell's new story may be confidently commended."
Morning Post.—"The story ... is not merely amusing ... it appeals to the imagination and the feelings in other ways."
SIDNEY DARK in the Daily Express.—"This is a delightfully amusing book, the story of life somewhere or other in the Malay Peninsula, with irresistible light comedy in almost every chapter."
Pall Mall Gazette.—"Mr. Blundell continues to prove himself as true in his humour as he is surprising in his inventiveness.... The book has an exuberance of good humour."
Evening Standard.—"'Love-birds in the Coco-nuts' is an extraordinary book, about extraordinary people.... The author has real originality, a style and humour all his own, and a background for his story practically untouched by novelists."
Scotsman.—"The story is managed with a rare ability.... The book cannot but be enjoyed by any reader who likes a new and natural touch of irresponsible humour."
OTHER NEW NOVELS
Mrs. Barnet-Robes
By Mrs. C. S. PEEL, author of the "Hat-Shop." Crown 8vo, 6s.
Outlook.—"With insight and tenderness and courage, Mrs. Peel has written one of the most charming and at the same time most living of stories.... It is stamped with truth and is very beautifully told."
The Titan
By THEODORE DREISER. Crown 8vo, 6s.
WILLIAM J. LOCKE in the Pall Mall Gazette.—"It is a memorable book, written by one saturated with knowledge of his own national life."
The Auction Mart
By SYDNEY TREMAYNE. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Sunday Times.—"Mr. Sydney Tremayne is a newcomer among English novelists, but it is a sure and certain thing that he has come to stay.... He has wit, humour, and the knack of telling a story. He should go far."
The Jealous Goddess
By MADGE MEARS. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Merry-Andrew
By KEBLE HOWARD. Crown 8vo, 6s.
JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD, W.