When the father of Patience Tabernacle (Mills and Boon) suddenly left his books at the bank in a state of regrettable inaccuracy and went off to borrow the wig and other equipment of his elderly maiden sister I thought I was to have one of those jolly, naive detective stories which the feminine hand can best weave. But I was deceived, nor do I consider quite fairly. For how was I to know that such an incident had no essential relation to any other in this quiet story of the love affairs of Patience and the wrong boy rejected, and the right man discovered, in time; that it wasn't even introduced so as to throw light on the character of any one concerned? Now I would ask Miss Sophie Coles what she would think of me if I began my (projected) Sussex village epic with the blowing up of the local public-house by anarchists and contented myself with merely casual references to the matter, never really making it part of any design or letting it modify any of my characters? And wouldn't it aggravate, not lessen, my artistic crime if I made the anarchists related to my heroine? Of course it would. Very well, then. And I am afraid our author can't claim the privileges of a lawless realism, for she distinctly doesn't belong to the photographic school.
Porter. "Do I know if the Rooshuns has really come through England? Well, Sir, if this don't prove it, I don't know what do. A train went through here full, and when it come back I knowed there'd bin Rooshuns in it, 'cause the cushions and floors was covered with snow."
THE CANDID ENEMY.
[It is stated that the Germans have forsworn the use of all words borrowed from the English, including "gentleman."]
The Germans all English expressions eschew,
And on "gentleman" place an especial taboo;