xvu 



" You have not told me the title of it, or the 

 author's name." 



" 'Tis a strange outlandish name ; I can't think 

 on it; but it's a Mr. Cavey, or some such 

 thing." 



Little dreaming of the impending honour, I 

 racked my brains in vain to divine the writer, for 

 coachee could give me no farther help : but he went 

 on in praise of the volume till at last he quoted 

 my tandem adventure. '^ Sure as life. Sir, he was 

 going down hill, and kept the traces tight." My 

 eyes at length were opened. " Is the authors 

 name Emptor?" "Ay, Sir, that's the name, but 

 they have such queer names now-a-days." 



I had the self-denial to pretend ignorance of 

 my own work ; not from modesty, but simply in 

 the hope of extracting some honest criticism, and I 

 was not disappointed. I cannot, however, deny 

 myself the satisfaction of recording the incident, 

 which happened almost in the very terms in which 

 I have here described it. I gladly pay this tribute 

 of gratitude to my unconscious tutor. 



I have however, another debt to discharge, to 

 critics of a different stamp. There is always a 

 difficulty in referring to avowed criticism : a reply 

 is ascribed to irritation, the besetting sin of the 

 scribbling race j while silence is construed as an 

 b 



