Chapter VII: Part 7

His death was mourned by many thousand persons who never saw him, and who knew nothing about his life. The public always loves the makers of its favourite books; but in the case of Mr. Blackmore, every reader of his masterpiece felt a peculiarly intimate relation with the man who wrote it. The story is so full of the milk of human kindness, its hero and heroine are so irresistibly attractive, and it radiates so wholesome and romantic a charm, that one cannot read it without feeling on the best possible terms with the author--as if both were intimate friends of long standing. For _Lorna Doone_ is a book we think we have always been reading; we can hardly recall the time when it had not become a part of our literary experience; just as it takes an effort to remember that there were days and years when we were not even aware of the existence of persons who are now indissolubly close. They have since become so necessary that we imagine life before we knew them must really have been more barren than it seemed.

Like many successful novelists, Mr. Blackmore began his literary career by the publication of verse, several volumes of poems appearing from his pen during the years 1854-1860. Although he never entirely abandoned verse composition, which it was only too apparent that he wrote with his left hand, the coolness with which his Muse was received may have been a cause of his attempting the quite different art of the novel. It is pleasant to remember, however, that in these early years he translated Vergil's _Georgics_; combining his threefold love of the classics, of poetry, and of gardening. Of how much practical agricultural value he found the Mantuan bard, we shall never know.

Contrary to a common supposition, _Lorna Doone_ was not his first story. He launched two ventures before his masterpiece--_Clara Vaughan_ in 1864, and _Cradock Nowell_ in 1866. These won no applause, and have not emerged from the congenial oblivion in which they speedily foundered. After these false starts, the great book came out in 1869, with no blare of publisher's trumpet, with scanty notice from the critics, and with no notice of any kind from the public. In the preface to the twentieth edition, and his various prefaces are well worth reading, the author remarked:--

"What a lucky maid you are, my Lorna! When first you came from the
Western Moors nobody cared to look at you; the 'leaders of the
public taste' led none of it to make test of you. Having struggled
to the light of day, through obstruction and repulses, for a year
and a half you shivered in a cold corner, without a sun-ray. Your
native land disdained your voice, and America answered, 'No child
of mine'; knowing how small your value was, you were glad to get
your fare paid to any distant colony."

The _Saturday Review_ for 5 November, 1870, uttered a few patronising words of praise. The book was called "a work of real excellence," but the reviewer timidly added, "We do not pretend to rank it with the acknowledged masterpieces of fiction." On the whole, there is good ground for gratitude that the public was so slow to see the "real excellence" of _Lorna_. A sudden blaze of popularity is sometimes so fierce as to consume its cause. Let us spend a few moments in devout meditation, while we recall the ashes of "the book of the year." The gradual dawn of Lorna's fame has assured her of a long and fair day.

Possibly one of the reasons why this great romance made so small an impression was because it appeared at an unpropitious time. The sower sowed the seed; but the thorns of Reade and Trollope sprang up and choked them. These two novelists were in full action; and they kept the public busy. Realism was strong in the market; people did not know then, as we do now, that The _Cloister and the Hearth_ was worth all the rest of Charles Reade put together. Had _Lorna Doone_ appeared toward the end of the century, when the Romantic Revival was in full swing, it would have received a royal welcome. But how many would have recognised its superiority to the tinsel stuff of those recent days, full of galvanised knights and stuffed chatelaines? For _Lorna_ belongs to a class of fiction with which we were flooded in the nineties, though, compared with the ordinary representative of its kind, it is as a star to a glow-worm. Readers then enjoyed impossible characters, whose talk was mainly of "gramercy" and similar curiosities, for they had the opportunity to "revel in the glamour of a bogus antiquity." But an abundance of counterfeits does not lower the value of the real metal; and _Lorna_ is a genuine coin struck from the mint of historical romance. In the original preface its author modestly said:--

"This work is called a 'romance,' because the incidents,
characters, time, and scenery are alike romantic. And in shaping
this old tale, the writer neither dares, nor desires, to claim for
it the dignity or cumber it with the difficulty of an historic
novel."

In warmth and colour, in correct visualisation, and in successful imitation of the prose of a bygone day (which no one has ever perfectly accomplished), it ranks not very far below the greatest of all English historical romances, _Henry Esmond_.

_Lorna Doone_ is practically one more illustration of Single-Speech Hamilton. After its appearance, its author wrote and published steadily for thirty years; but the fact remains that not only is _Lorna_ his best-known work, but that his entire reputation hangs upon it. Many of his other stories are good, notably _Cripps the Carrier_ and _Perlycross_; the latter has a most ingenious plot; but these two now peacefully repose with their mates in undisturbed slumber at dusty library corners. They had an initial sale because they came from the hand that created _Lorna_; then they were lost in the welter of ephemeral literature. Mr. Blackmore offered his buyers all sorts of wares, but, after a momentary examination, they declined what was "just as good," and returned to their favourite, which, by the way, was never his; he ranked it third among his productions.

For this novel is not only one of the best-loved books in English fiction, and stands magnificently the severe test of rereading, it is bound to have even more admirers in the future than it has ever yet enjoyed; it is visibly growing in reputation every year. It may be interesting to analyse some of its elements, in order to understand what has given it so assured a place. The main plot is simplicity itself. It is a history, however, that the world has always found entertaining, the history of the love of a strong man for a beautiful girl. They meet, he falls in love, he rescues her from peril, she goes up to London, becomes a great lady, returns, is dangerously wounded on her wedding-day, recovers, and they live happily for ever after--_voila tout_. A very simple plot, yet the telling fills two stout volumes, with the reader's interest maintained from first to last.

It is told in the first person--the approved method of the historical romance. Professor Raleigh has admirably pointed out the virtues and defects of the three ways of composing a novel,--direct discourse by the chief actor, the exclusive employment of letters, and the "invisible and omniscient" impersonal author.[17] It is interesting to note, in passing, that our first English novelist, Defoe, adopted the first method; Richardson, our second novelist, took the second; and Fielding, our third novelist, took the third. Now, the great advantage of having John Ridd speak throughout is the gain in reality and vividness; it is as though we sat with him in the ingle, and obtained all our information at first hand. What is lost by narrowness of experience is made up in intensity; we follow him breathlessly, as Desdemona followed Othello, and he has every moment our burning sympathy. We participate more fully in his joys and sorrows, in the agony of his suspense; we share his final triumph. He is talking directly to us, and John Ridd is a good talker. He is the kind of man who appeals to all classes of listeners. He has the gentleness and modesty that are so becoming to great physical strength; the love of children, animals, and all helpless creatures; reverence for God, purity of heart, and a noble slowness to wrath. Such a man is simply irresistible, and we are sorry when he finishes his tale. The defect in this method of narration, which Mr. Blackmore has employed with such success, is the inevitable defect in all stories written in this manner, as Professor Raleigh has observed: "It takes from the novelist the privilege of killing his hero." When John Ridd is securely bound, and the guns of hostile soldiers are levelled at his huge bulk, with their fingers actually on the triggers, we laugh at ourselves for our high-beating hearts; for of course he is unkillable, else how could he be talking at this very moment?

[17] _The English Novel_, Chapter VI.

The plot of _Lorna Doone_, which, as we have observed, is very simple, is, nevertheless, skilfully complicated. It is not a surprise plot, like that of _A Pair of Blue Eyes_; we are not stunned by the last page. It is a suspense plot; we have a well-founded hope that all will come right in the end, and yet the author has introduced enough disturbing elements to put us occasionally in a maze. This artistic suspense is attained partly by the method of direct discourse; which, at the same time, develops the character of the hero. Big John repeats incidents, dwells lengthily on minute particulars, stops to enjoy the scenery, and makes mountains of stories out of molehills of fact. The second complication of the plot arises from the introduction of characters that apparently divert the course of the story without really doing so. There are nineteen important characters, all held well in hand; and a conspicuous example of a complicating personage is little Ruth Huckaback. She interferes in the main plot in an exceedingly clever way. The absorbing question in every reader's mind is, of course, Will John marry Lorna? Now Ruth's interviews with the hero are so skilfully managed, and with such intervals of time between, that on some pages she seems destined to be his bride. And, admirably drawn as her character is, when her artistic purpose in the plot is fully accomplished, she quietly fades out, with the significant tribute, "Ruth Huckaback is not married yet."

There is also a subsidiary plot, dovetailed neatly into the main building. This is the story of the attractive highwayman, Tom Faggus, and his love for John's sister, Annie. Many pages are taken up with the adventures of this gentleman, who enters the novel on horseback (what a horse!) at the moment when the old drake is fighting for his life. Besides our interest in Tom himself, in his wild adventures, and in his reformation, we are interested in the conflict of his two passions, one for the bottle, and one for Annie, and we wonder which will win. This subsidiary love story is still further complicated by the introduction of young De Whichehalse; and in the struggle between John Ridd and the Doones, both Tom Faggus and the De Whichehalse family play important parts. It is interesting, too, to observe how events that seem at the time to be of no particular importance, turn out later to be highly significant; when, at the very beginning of the long story, the little boy, on his way home from school, meets the lady's maid, and shortly after sees the child borne away on the robber's saddle, we imagine all this is put in to enliven the journey, that it is just "detail"; long afterwards we find the artistic motive. In fact, one of the most notable virtues of this admirable plot is the constant introduction of matters apparently irrelevant and due to mere garrulity, such as the uncanny sound, for example, which prove after all to be essential to the course of the narrative.

As for the characters, they impress us differently in different moods. For all John Ridd's prodigious strength, marvellous escapes, and astounding feats, his personality is so intensely human that he seems real. His _soul_, at any rate, is genuine, and wholly natural; his bodily activity--the extraction of Carver's biceps, the wrenching of the branch from the tree, the hurling of the cannon through the door--makes him a dim giant in a fairy story. When we think of the qualities of his mind and heart, he comes quite close; when we think of his physical prowess, he almost vanishes in the land of Fable. I remember the comment of an undergraduate--"John Ridd is as remote as Achilles; he is like a Greek myth."

The women are all well drawn and individualised--except the heroine. I venture to say that no one has ever seen Lorna in his mind's eye. She is like a plate that will not develop. A very pretty girl with an affectionate disposition,--what more can be said? But so long as a Queen has beauty and dignity, she does not need to be interesting; and Lorna is the queen of this romance. John's mother and his two sisters are as like and unlike as members of the same family ought to be; they are real women. Ruth Huckaback and Gwenny Carfax are great additions to our literary acquaintances; each would make an excellent heroine for a realistic novel. They have the indescribable puzzling characteristics that we call feminine; sudden caprices, flashes of unexpected jealousy, deep loyal tenderness, unlimited capacity for self-sacrifice, and in the last analysis, Mystery.

The humour of the story is spontaneous, and of great variety, running from broad mirth to whimsical subtlety. The first concerted attack on the Doones is comic opera burlesque; but the scenes of humour that delight us most are those describing friendly relations with beast and bird. The eye of the old drake, as he stared wildly from his precarious position, and the delight of the ducks as they welcomed his rescue; above all, Annie's care of the wild birds in the bitter cold.

"There was not a bird but knew her well, after one day of
comforting; and some would come to her hand, and sit, and shut one
eye, and look at her. Then she used to stroke their heads, and feel
their breasts, and talk to them; and not a bird of them all was
there but liked to have it done to him. And I do believe they would
eat from her hand things unnatural to them, lest she should be
grieved and hurt by not knowing what to do for them. One of them
was a noble bird, such as I had never seen before, of very fine
bright plumage, and larger than a missel-thrush. He was the hardest
of all to please; and yet he tried to do his best."

Whatever may be the merits of Mr. Blackmore's published verse, there is more poetry in _Lorna Doone_ than in many volumes of formal rime. The wonderful descriptions of the country in shade and shine, in fog and drought, the pictures of the sunrise and the falling water, the "tumultuous privacy" of the snow-storms,--these are all descriptive poems. Every reader has noticed the peculiar rhythm of the style, and wondered if it were intentional. Hundreds of sentences here and there are perfect English hexameters; one can find them by opening the book at random, and reading aloud. But this peculiar element in the style goes much farther than isolated phrases. There are solid passages of steady rhythm, which might correctly be printed in verse form.[18]

[18] A writer in the _Atlantic Monthly_ notes especially the closing paragraph of Chapter XXVIII, and parts of Chapter XXIX.

Mr. Blackmore's personal character was so modest, unassuming, and lovable, that it is not difficult to guess the source of the purity, sweetness, and sincerity of his great book. If he were somewhat surprised at the utter coldness of its first reception, he never got over his amazement at the size and extent of its ultimate triumph. In the preface to the sixth edition, he said:--

"Few things have surprised me more, and nothing has more pleased
me, than the great success of this simple tale.... Therefore any
son of Devon may imagine, and will not grudge, the writer's delight
at hearing from a recent visitor to the west, that '_Lorna Doone_,
to a Devonshire man, is as good as clotted cream, almost!'

"Although not half so good as that, it has entered many a tranquil,
happy, pure, and hospitable home; and the author, while deeply
grateful for this genial reception, ascribes it partly to the fact
that his story contains no word or thought disloyal to its
birthright in the fairest county of England."

Mr. Blackmore lived long enough to see an entirely different kind of "local colour" become conventional, where many a novelist, portraying his native town or the community in which he dwelt, emphasised with what skill he could command all its poverty, squalor, and meanness; the disgusting vices and malignant selfishness of its inhabitants; and after he had thus fouled his nest by representing it as a mass of filth, degradation, and sin, he imagined he had created a work of art. The author of _Lorna Doone_ had the satisfaction of knowing that he had inspired hundreds of thousands of readers with the love of his favourite west country, and with an intense desire to visit it. And being, like John Ridd, of a forgiving nature, he forgave America for its early neglect of his story; for being informed of the supremacy of _Lorna Doone_ in the hearts of American undergraduates, he remarked, in a letter to the present writer, "The good word of the young, who are at once the most intelligent and the most highly educated of a vast intellectual nation, augurs well for the continuance--at least for a generation--of my fortunate production."

APPENDIX A

NOVELS AS A UNIVERSITY STUDY

Some fourteen years ago, in the pamphlet of elective courses of study open to the senior and junior classes of Yale College, I announced a new course called "Modern Novels." The course and its teacher immediately became the object of newspaper notoriety, which spells academic damnation. From every State in the Union long newspaper clippings were sent to me, in which my harmless little pedagogical scheme was discussed--often under enormous headlines--as a revolutionary idea. It was praised by some, denounced by others, but thoroughly advertised, so that, for many months, I received letters from all parts of the Western Hemisphere, asking for the list of novels read and the method pursued in studying them. During six months these letters averaged three a day, and they came from the north, south, east, and west, from Alaska, Hawaii, Central and South America. The dust raised by all this hubbub crossed the Atlantic. The course was gravely condemned in a column editorial in the London _Daily Telegraph_, and finally received the crowning honour of a parody in _Punch_.

Things have changed somewhat in the last ten years, and although I have never repeated my one year's experiment, I believe that it would be perfectly safe to do so. Not only does the production of new novels continue at constantly accelerating speed, but critical books on the novel have begun to increase and multiply in all directions. At least twenty such works now stand on my shelves, the latest of which (by Selden L. Whitcomb) is frankly called "The Study of a Novel," and boldly begins: "This volume is the result of practical experience in teaching the novel, and its aim is primarily pedagogical."

The objections usually formulated against novels as a university study are about as follows: (_a_) the study of fiction is unacademic--that is, lacking in dignity; (_b_) students will read too many novels anyway, and the emphasis should therefore be thrown on other forms of literary art; (_c_) most recent and contemporary fiction is worthless, and if novels are to be taught at all, the titles selected should be confined entirely to recognised classics; (_d_) many of the novels of to-day are immoral, and the reading of them will corrupt rather than develop adolescent minds; (_e_) they are too "easy," too interesting, and a course confined to them is totally lacking in mental discipline. These objections, each and all, contain some truth, and demand a serious answer.

That the study of fiction is unacademic is a weighty argument, but its weight is the mass of custom and prejudice rather than solid thought. In old times, the curriculum had little to do with real life, so that the most scholarly professors and the most promising pupils were often plentifully lacking in common sense. Students gifted with real independence of mind, marked with an alert interest in the life and thought about them, chafed irritably under the old-fashioned course of study, and often treated it with neglect or open rebellion. What Thomas Gray said of the Cambridge curriculum constitutes a true indictment against eighteenth-century universities; and it was not until very recent times that such studies as history, European literature, modern languages, political economy, natural sciences, and the fine arts were thought to have equal academic dignity with the trinity of Latin, Greek, and mathematics. There are, indeed, many able and conscientious men who still believe that this trinity cannot be successfully rivalled by any other possible group of studies. Now the novel is the most prominent form of modern literary art; and if modern literature is to be studied at all, fiction cannot be overlooked. The profound change brought about in university curricula, caused largely by the elective system, is simply the bringing of college courses of study into closer contact with human life, and the recognition that what young men need is a general preparation to live a life of active usefulness in modern social relations.

That students read too many novels anyway--that is, in proportion to their reading in history and biography--is probably true. But the primary object of a course in novel-reading is not to make the student read more novels, instead of less, nor to substitute the reading of fiction for the reading of other books. The real object is (after a cheerful recognition of the fact that he will read novels anyway) to persuade him to read them intelligently, to observe the difference between good novels and bad, and so to become impatient and disgusted with cheap, sensational, and counterfeit specimens of the novelist's art.

"The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's,
Is--not to fancy what were fair in life
Provided it could be--but, finding first
What may be, then find how to make it fair
Up to our means: a very different thing!
No abstract intellectual plan of life
Quite irrespective of life's plainest laws,
But one, a man, who is man and nothing more,
May lead within a world which (by your leave)
Is Rome or London, not Fool's Paradise."

That much of contemporary fiction is worthless, and that the novels selected should be classics, is a twofold statement, of which the first phrase is true and the second a _non sequitur_. Much ancient and mediaeval literature read in college is worthless in itself; it is read because it illustrates the language, or represents some literary form, or because it throws light on the customs and ideas of the time. The fact that a certain obscure work was written in the year 1200 does not necessarily prove that it is more valuable for study than one written in 1909. Now it so happens that the modern novel has become more and more the mirror of modern ideas; and for a student who really wishes to know what people are thinking about all over the world to-day, the novels of Tolstoi, Bjoernson, Sudermann, and Thomas Hardy cannot wisely be neglected. Why should the study of the contemporary novel and the contemporary drama be tabooed when in other departments of research the aim is to be as contemporary as possible? We have courses in social conditions that actually investigate slums. I am not for a moment pleading that the study of modern novels and modern art should supplant the study of immortal masterpieces; but merely that they should have their rightful place, and not be regarded either with contempt or as unworthy of serious treatment. The two most beneficial ways to study a novel are to regard it, first, as an art-form, and secondly as a manifestation of intellectual life; from neither point of view should the contemporary novel be wholly neglected.

That many of the novels of to-day are immoral is true, but it is still more true of the classics. The proportion of really immoral books to the total production is probably less to-day than it ever was before; in fact, there are an immense number of excellent contemporary novels which are spotless, something that cannot be said of the classics of antiquity or of the great majority of literary works published prior to the nineteenth century. If immorality be the cry, what shall we say about Aristophanes or Ovid? How does the case stand with the comedies of Dryden or with the novels of Henry Fielding? No, it is undoubtedly true that the teacher who handles modern fiction can more easily find a combination of literary excellence and purity of tone than he could in any previous age.

That a course in novels lacks mental discipline and is too easy depends mainly on the teacher and his method. As regards the time consumed in preparation, it is probable that a student would expend three or four times the number of hours on a course in novels than he would in ancient languages, where, unfortunately, the use of a translation is all but universal; and the translation is fatal to mental discipline. But it is not merely a matter of hours; novels can be taught in such a way as to produce the best kind of mental discipline, which consists, first, in compelling a student to do his own thinking, and, secondly, to train him properly in the expression of what ideas he has.

APPENDIX B

THE TEACHER'S ATTITUDE TOWARD CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE

Two things must be admitted at the start--first, that no person is qualified to judge the value of new books who is not well acquainted with the old ones; second, that the only test of the real greatness of any book is Time. It is, of course, vain to hope that any remarks made on contemporary authors will not be misrepresented, but I have placed two axioms at the beginning of this article in order to clear the ground. I am not advocating the abandonment of the study of Homer and Vergil, or proposing to substitute in their stead the study of Hall Caine, Mrs. Ward, and Marie Corelli. I do not believe that Mr. Pinero is a greater dramatist than Sophokles, or that the mental discipline gained by reading _The Jungle_ is equivalent to that obtained in the mastery of Euclid.

I am merely pleading that every thoughtful man who is alive in this year of grace should not attempt to live his whole life in the year 400 B.C., even though he be so humble an individual as a teacher. The very word "teacher" means something more than "scholar"; and scholarship means something more than the knowledge of things that are dead. A good teacher will remember that the boys and girls who come under his instruction are not all going to spend their lives in the pursuit of technical learning. It is his business to influence them; and he cannot exert a powerful influence without some interest in the life and thought of his own day, in the environment in which his pupils exist. I believe that the cardinal error of a divinity-school education is that the candidate for the ministry spends over half his time and energy in the laborious study of Hebrew, whereas he should study the subjects that primarily interest not his colleagues, but his audience.

"Priests
Should study passion; how else cure mankind,
Who come for help in passionate extremes?"

A preacher who knows Hebrew, Greek, systematic theology, New Testament interpretation, and who knows nothing about literature, history, art, and human nature, is grotesquely unfitted for his noble profession.

In every age it has been the fashion to ridicule and decry the literary production of that particular time. I suppose that the greatest creative period that the world has ever known occurred in England during the years 1590-1616, and here is what Ben Jonson said in 1607: "Now, especially in dramatic, or, as they term it, stage-poetry, nothing but ribaldry, profanation, blasphemy, all license of offence to God and man is practised. I dare not deny a great part of this, and am sorry I dare not." In 1610 he wrote, "Thou wert never more fair in the way to be cozened, than in this age, in poetry, especially in plays; wherein, now the concupiscence of dances and of antics so reigneth, as to run away from nature and be afraid of her, is the only point of art that tickles the spectators." And in 1611 he said, "In so thick and dark an ignorance as now almost covers the age ... you dare, in these jig-given times, to countenance a legitimate poem." And the age which he damned is now regarded as the world's high-water mark!

A man who teaches physics and chemistry is supposed to be familiar not only with the history of his subject, but its latest manifestations; with the work of his contemporaries. A man who teaches political economy and sociology must read the most recent books on these themes both in Europe and America--nay, he must read the newspapers and study the markets, or he will be outstripped by his own pupils. A man who teaches drawing and painting should not only know the history of art, but its latest developments. And yet, when the teacher of literature devotes a small portion of the time of his pupils to the contemplation of contemporary poets, novelists, and dramatists, he is not only blamed for doing so, but some teachers who are ignorant of the writers of their own day boast of their ignorance with true academic pride.

A teacher cannot read every book that appears; he cannot neglect the study and teaching of the recognised classics; but his attitude toward the writers of his own time should not be one of either indifference or contempt. The teacher of English literature should not be the last man in the world to discover the name of an author whom all the world is talking about. And I believe that every great university should offer, under proper restrictions, at least one course in the contemporary drama, or in contemporary fiction, or in some form of contemporary literary art. The Germans are generally regarded as the best scholars in the world, and they never think it beneath their dignity to recognise living authors of distinction. While the British public were condemning in true British fashion an author whom they had not read--Henrik Ibsen--German universities were offering courses exclusively devoted to the study of his works. Imagine a course in Ibsen at Oxford!

But not only should the teacher take an intelligent interest in contemporary authors who have already won a wide reputation, he should be eternally watchful, eternally hopeful--ready to detect signs of promise in the first books of writers whose names are wholly unknown. This does not mean that he should exaggerate the merits of every fresh work, nor beslobber with praise every ambitious quill-driver. On the contrary,--if there be occasion to give an opinion at all,--he should not hesitate to condemn what seems to him shallow, trivial, or counterfeit, no matter how big a "seller" the object in his vision may be. But his sympathies should be warm and keen, and his mind always responsive, when a new planet swims into his ken. One of the most joyful experiences of my life came to me some years ago when I read _Bob, Son of Battle_ with the unknown name Alfred Ollivant on the title-page. It was worth wading through tons of trash to find such a jewel.

And is the literature of our generation really slight and mean? By "Contemporary Literature" we include perhaps authors who have written or who are writing during the lifetime of those who are now, let us say, thirty years old. Contemporary literature would then embrace, in the drama, Ibsen, Bjoernson, Victor Hugo, Henri Becque, Rostand, Maeterlinck, Sudermann, Hauptmann, Pinero, Jones, and others; in the novel, Turgenev, Tolstoi, Dostoievsky, Bjoernson, Hugo, Daudet, Zola, Maupassant, Heyse, Sudermann, Hardy, Meredith, Stevenson, Kipling, Howells, Mark Twain, and many others; in poetry, to speak of English writers alone, Tennyson, Browning, Arnold, Swinburne, Morris, Kipling, Phillips, Watson, Thompson, and others. Those who live one hundred years from now will know more about the permanent value of the works of these men than we do; but are these names really of no importance to teachers whose speciality is literature?

APPENDIX C

TWO POEMS

It is interesting to compare the two following poems, written by two distinguished English novelists, both men of fine intelligence, noble character, and absolute sincerity. Mr. Hardy's poem appeared in the _Fortnightly Review_, for 1 January, 1907.

NEW YEAR'S EVE

BY THOMAS HARDY

"I have finished another year," said God,
"In grey, green, white, and brown;
I have strewn the leaf upon the sod,
Sealed up the worm within the clod,
And let the last sun down."

"And what's the good of it?" I said,
"What reasons made You call
From formless void this earth I tread,
When nine-and-ninety can be read
Why nought should be at all?

"Yea, Sire; why shaped You us, 'who in
This tabernacle groan'?--
If ever a joy be found herein,
Such joy no man had wished to win
If he had never known!"

Then He: "My labours logicless
You may explain; not I:
Sense-sealed I have wrought, without a guess
That I evolved a Consciousness
To ask for reasons why!

"Strange, that ephemeral creatures who
By my own ordering are,
Should see the shortness of my view,
Use ethic tests I never knew,
Or made provision for!"

He sank to raptness as of yore,
And opening New Year's Day
Wove it by rote as theretofore,
And went on working evermore
In his unweeting way.

DOMINUS ILLUMINATIO MEA

BY RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE

1

In the hour of death, after this life's whim,
When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow dim,
And pain has exhausted every limb--
The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him.

2

When the will has forgotten the life-long aim,
And the mind can only disgrace its fame,
And a man is uncertain of his own name,
The power of the Lord shall fill this frame.

3

When the last sigh is heaved and the last tear shed,
And the coffin is waiting beside the bed,
And the widow and the child forsake the dead,
The angel of the Lord shall lift this head.

4

For even the purest delight may pall,
The power must fail, and the pride must fall,
And the love of the dearest friends grow small--
But the glory of the Lord is all in all.

This poem, with the signature "R. D. B. in memoriam M. F. G." first appeared in the _University Magazine_ in 1879. Although it has been included in some anthologies, the author's name was kept an absolute secret until July, 1909. In the _Athenaeum_ for 3 July, 1909, was printed an interesting letter from Agnes E. Cook, by which we learn that the late Mr. Blackmore actually _dreamed_ this poem, in its exact language and metre. The letter from the author which was published in the same _Athenaeum_ article, gives the facts connected with this extraordinary dream.

Teddn Jany 5th 1879.
My Dear Sir.

Having lately been at the funeral of a most dear relation I was
there again (in a dream) last night, and heard the mourners sing
the lines enclosed, which impressed me so that I was able to write
them without change of a word this morning. I never heard or read
them before to my knowledge. They do not look so well on paper as
they sounded; but if you like to print them, here they are. Only
please not to put my name beyond initials or send me money for
them. With all good wishes to Mrs. Cook and yourself

Very truly yours
R. D. Blackmore.
K Cook Esqre L.L.D.

LIST OF PUBLICATIONS

BY ANDREW KEOGH

[The twelve authors are in alphabetical order. The books of each are in chronological order, the assigned dates being those of the publishers' trade journals in which the fact of publication was first recorded. Novels originally issued as serials have a note giving the name and date of the original magazine.]

BJOeRNSTJERNE BJOeRNSON

8 December 1832--

[Including only works that have been translated into English.]

1857, Sept. 1. Synnoeve Solbakken. Christiania. (_Illustreret
Folkeblad_, 1857.)--Trust and Trial. [A translation by Mary
Howitt.] London, Hurst, Sept. 15, 1858.--Love and Life in Norway.
Tr. by the Hon. Augusta Bethell and A. Plesner. London, Cassell
[1870].--Synnoeve Solbakken. Tr. by R. B. Anderson. Boston,
Houghton, 1881.--Synnoeve Solbakken. Given in English by Julie
Sutter. London, Macmillan, 1881.

1858. Arne. Bergen, 1858 [1859].--Arne; or, Peasant Life in
Norway. Tr. by a Norwegian. Bergen [1861].--Arne: a Sketch of
Norwegian Country Life. Tr. by A. Plesner and S. Rugely-Powers.
London, Strahan, Aug. 1, 1866.--Arne. Tr. by R. B. Anderson.
Boston, Houghton, 1881.--Arne, and the Fisher Lassie. Tr. with an
introd. by W. Low. London, Bell, 1890.

1860. En glad Gut. Christiania. (_Aftenbladet._)--Ovind. Tr. by S.
and E. Hjerleid. London, 1869.--The Happy Boy. Tr. by Helen R.
Gade. Boston, Sever, 1870.--A Happy Boy. Tr. by R. B. Anderson.
Boston, Houghton, 1881.--The Happy Lad, and other Tales. London,
Blackie, 1882.

1862. Sigurd Slembe. Copenhagen.--Sigurd Slembe: a Dramatic
Trilogy. Tr. by W. M. Payne. Boston, Houghton, Oct. 20, 1888.

1865. De Nygifte. Copenhagen.--The Newly Married Couple. Tr. by S.
and E. Hjerleid. London, Simpkin, 1870.

1868, Apr. Fiskerjenten. Copenhagen.--The Fisher-Maiden: a
Norwegian Tale. From the author's German edition by M. E. Niles.
N.Y., Holt, 1869.--The Fishing Girl. Tr. by A. Plesner and F.
Richardson. London, Cassell [1870].--The Fisher Girl. Tr. by S.
and E. Hjerleid. London, Simpkin, 1871 [1870].--The Fisher Maiden.
Tr. by R. B. Anderson. Boston, Houghton, 1882.--Arne and the
Fisher Lassie. Tr. with an introd. by W. Low. London, Bell, 1890.

1873. Brude-Slaatten: Fortaelling. Copenhagen.--Life by the Fells
and Fiords. A Norwegian Sketch-book [containing a translation of
the Bridal March]. London, Strahan, 1879.--The Bridal March and
other Stories. Tr. by R. B. Anderson. Boston, 1882.--The Wedding
March. Tr. by M. Ford. N.Y., Munro, 1882.

1877, Oct. Magnhild: en Fortaelling. Copenhagen.--Magnhild. Tr. by
R. B. Anderson. Boston, Houghton, 1883 [1882].

1879, Aug. Kaptejn Mansana. Copenhagen.--Captain Mansana, and
other Stories. Tr. by R. B. Anderson. Cambridge, Mass.,
1882.--Captain Mansana. N.Y., Munro, 1882.--Captain Mansana,
and Mother's Hands. N.Y., Macmillan, 1897.

1883, Sept. En Hanske: Skuespil. Copenhagen.--A Glove: a Prose
Play. (_Poet-Lore_, Jan.-July, 1892.)--A Gauntlet. Tr. by H. L.
Braekstad. London, French [1890].--A Gauntlet. Tr. by Osman
Edwards. London, Longmans, 1894.

Nov. Over AEvne. Forste Stykke. Copenhagen.--Pastor Sang: being the
Norwegian drama Over AEvne [Part 1]. Tr. by W. Wilson. London,
Longmans, 1893.

1884, Oct. Det flager i Byen og pa Havnen. Copenhagen.--The
Heritage of the Kurts. Tr. by C. Fairfax. London, Heinemann, 1892.

1887, Aug. Stov. (Originally published in 1882 in I. Hfte _Nyt
Tidsskrift_.)--Magnhild and Dust. N.Y., Macmillan, 1897.

1889, Oct. Pa Guds Veje. Copenhagen.--In God's Way. N.Y., Lovell,
1889.--In God's way: a Novel. Tr. by E. Carmichael. London,
Heinemann, 1890.

1895, Dec. Over AEvne. Andet Stykke. Copenhagen.

1898, Nov. Paul Lange og Tora Parsberg. Copenhagen.--Tr. by H. L.
Braekstad. London, N.Y., Harper, Feb., 1899.

1901, Apr. Laboremus. Copenhagen.--Laboremus. London, Chapman,
June 8, 1901. (First published as literary supplement to the
_Fortnightly Review_, May, 1901.)

1906, Oct. Mary: Fortaelling. Copenhagen.--Mary. Tr. by Mary
Morison. N.Y., Macmillan, Sept. 4, 1909.

In addition to the works listed above, most of the tales and sketches in Bjoernson's three collections (Smaastykker, Bergen, 1860; Fortaellinger, Copenhagen, 1872; Nye Fortaellinger, Copenhagen, 1894) have appeared in English in one or other of the collections listed below:--

Life by the Fells and Fiords: a Norwegian Sketch-book. London, Strahan
[1879]. _Contents_: Arne.--The Bridal March.--The Churchyard and the
Railroad.--The Father.--Faithfulness.--Thrond.--Blakken.--A Life's
Enigma.--Checked Imagination.--The Eagle's Nest.--A Dangerous
Wooing.--The Brothers' Quarrel.--The Eagle and the Fir.--Poems.

Works. American edition, translated by R. B. Anderson. 3 v. Boston,
Houghton, 1884. _Contents_: v. 1. Synnoeve Solbakken.--Arne.--Early
Tales and Sketches: The Railroad and the Churchyard.--Thrond.--A
Dangerous Wooing.--The Bear-Hunter.--The Eagle's Nest.--v. 2.
A Happy Boy.--The Fisher Maiden.--Tales and Sketches:
Blakken.--Fidelity.--A Problem of Life.--v. 3. The Bridal
March.--Captain Mansana.--Magnhild.--Dust.

Novels. Edited by Edmund Gosse. London, Heinemann; N.Y., Macmillan.
13 v. 1894-1909. _Contents_: v. 1. Synnoeve Solbakken. Given in
English by Julie Sutter. A new ed.... 1895.--v. 2. Arne. Tr. by
W. Low. 1895.--v. 3. A Happy Boy. Tr. by Mrs. W. Archer. 1896.--v. 4.
The Fisher Lass. 1896.--v. 5. The Bridal March, and One Day.
1896.--v. 6. Magnhild and Dust. 1897.--v. 7. Captain Mansana, and
Mother's Hands. 1897.--v. 8. Absalom's Hair, and A Painful Memory.
1898.--v. 9-10. In God's Way. Tr. by E. Carmichael. 1908.--v. 11-12.
The Heritage of the Kurts. Tr. by Cecil Fairfax. 1908.--v. 13. Mary.
Tr. by Mary Morison. 1909.

RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE 7 June 1825-20 January 1900

1854, May 1. Poems by Melanter. London, Saunders. July. Epullia,
and other Poems. By the Author of Poems by Melanter. London, Hope.

1855, Jan. 16. The Bugle of the Black Sea; or, The British in the
East. By Melanter. London, Hardwicke.

1860, Oct. 27. The Fate of Franklin. London, Hardwicke. 1862, July
31. The Farm and Fruit of Old: a Translation in Verse of the first
and second Georgics of Virgil. By a Market Gardener. London, Low.

1864, Mar. 31. Clara Vaughan: a Novel. 3 vols. London, Macmillan.

1866, Sept. 1. Cradock Nowell: A Tale of the New Forest. 3 vols.
London, Chapman. (_Macmillan's Magazine_, May, 1865-Aug., 1866.)

1869, Apr. 1. Lorna Doone: a Romance of Exmoor. 3 vols. London,
Low.

1871, Apr. 1. The Georgics of Virgil, translated. London, Low.

1872, Aug. 2. The Maid of Sker. 3 vols. London, Blackwood.
(_Blackwood's Magazine_, Aug., 1871-July, 1872.)

1875, May 1. Alice Lorraine: a Tale of the South Downs. 3 vols.
London, Low. (_Blackwood's Magazine_, Mar., 1874-Apr., 1875.)

1876, June 1. Cripps the Carrier: a Woodland Tale. 3 vols. London,
Low.

1877, Nov. 16. Erema; or, My Father's Sin. 3 vols. London, Smith,
Elder. (_Cornhill Magazine_, Nov., 1876-Nov., 1877.)

1880, May 15. Mary Anerley: a Yorkshire Tale. 3 vols. London, Low.
(_Fraser's Magazine_, July, 1879-Sept., 1880.)

1881, Dec. 31. Christowell: a Dartmoor Tale. 3 vols. London, Low.
(_Good Words_, Jan.-Dec., 1881.)

1884, May 15. The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas Upmore. 2 vols.
London, Low.

1887, Mar. 1. Springhaven: a Tale of the Great War. 3 vols.
London, Low. (_Harper's Magazine_, Apr., 1886-Apr., 1887.)

1889, Dec. 31. Kit and Kitty: a Story of West Middlesex. 3 vols.
London, Low, 1890 [1889].

1894, Aug. 25. Perlycross: a Tale of the Western Hills. 3 vols.
London, Low.

1895, June 22. Fringilla: Some Tales in Verse. London, Mathews.

1896, Mar. 21. Tales from the Telling-House. London, Low.

1897, Nov. 27. Dariel: a Romance of Surrey. London, Blackwood.

SAMUEL LANGHORNE CLEMENS

30 November 1835-

1867, May 1. The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, and
other Sketches. Edited by John Paul. N.Y., Amer. News Co.

1869, Oct. 1. The Innocents Abroad; or, The New Pilgrim's Progress.
Hartford, American Publ. Co.

1871. Mark Twain's Autobiography and First Romance. N.Y., Sheldon.

1872, Feb. 29. Roughing it. Hartford, American Publ. Co.

1874, Jan. 3. The Gilded Age: a Tale of To-Day. By Mark Twain and
Charles Dudley Warner. Hartford, American Publ. Co. Mark Twain's
Sketches. [No. 1.] N.Y., American News Co.

1875. Mark Twain's Sketches, new and old. Now first published in
complete form. Hartford, American Publ. Co.

1876, Dec. 23. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Hartford, American
Publ. Co.

1877, Sept. 22. A True Story, and The Recent Carnival of Crime.
Boston, Osgood.

1878, Mar. 23. Punch, Brothers, Punch! and other Sketches. N.Y.,
Slote.

1880, July 10. A Tramp Abroad. Hartford, American Publ. Co.

1882, Jan. 21. The Prince and the Pauper. Boston, Osgood.

June 17. The Stolen White Elephant, etc. Boston, Osgood.

1883, July 7. Life on the Mississippi. Boston, Osgood.

1884, Dec. 31. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer's
Comrade. London, Chatto. (N.Y., Webster, Mar. 14, 1885.)

1889, Dec. 28. A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court: a
Satire. N.Y., Webster.

1892, Apr. 9. Merry Tales. N.Y., Webster.

1893, Apr. 29. The L1,000,000 Bank-note, and other new stories.
N.Y., Webster.

1894, Mar. 2. The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson, and the comedy
Those Extraordinary Twins. Hartford, American Publ. Co.

Apr. 15. Tom Sawyer Abroad, by Huck Finn. Edited by Mark Twain.
N.Y., Webster.

1896, May 9. Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc. By the Sieur
Louis de Conte (her page and secretary). Freely translated out of
the ancient French into modern English from the original
unpublished manuscript in the National Archives of France, by Jean
Francois Alden. N.Y., Harper.

1897, Apr. 3. The American Claimant, and other Stories and
Sketches. N.Y., Harper.

Apr. 17. How to tell a story, and other Essays. N.Y., Harper.

1897, Dec. 11. Following the Equator: a Journey around the World.
Hartford, American Publ. Co. (London, Chatto, under title "More
Tramps Abroad.")

1900, June 23. The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg, and other Stories
and Essays. N.Y., Harper.

1902, Apr. 19. A Double-barrelled Detective Story. N.Y., Harper.

1904, Apr. 16. Extracts from Adam's Diary, translated from the
Original Manuscript. N.Y., Harper.

Oct. 1. A Dog's Tale. N.Y., Harper.

1905, Oct. 7. Editorial Wild Oats. N.Y., Harper.

Nov. 4. King Leopold's Soliloquy: a Defence of his Congo Rule.
Boston, Warren.

1906, June 16. Eve's Diary, translated from the Original
Manuscript. N.Y., Harper.

Oct. 13. The $30,000 Bequest, and other Stories. N.Y., Harper.

1907, Feb. 16. Christian Science, with notes containing corrections
to date. N.Y., Harper.

Nov. 9. A Horse's Tale. N.Y., Harper.

1909, Apr. 17. Is Shakespeare dead? From my Autobiography. N.Y.,
Harper.

Oct. 23. Extract from Captain Stormfield's Visit to Heaven. N.Y.,
Harper.

WILLIAM DE MORGAN

16 November 1839-

1906, July 28. Joseph Vance: an ill-written Autobiography. London,
Heinemann. (N.Y., Holt, Sept. 22.)

1907, June 15. Alice-for-Short: a Dichronism. N.Y., Holt. (London,
Heinemann, June 29.)

1908, Feb. 8. Somehow Good. N.Y., Holt. (London, Heinemann, Feb.
15.)

1909, Nov. 16. It Never Can Happen Again. N.Y., Holt. (London,
Heinemann, 2 v.)

THOMAS HARDY

2 June 1840-

1871, Apr. 1. Desperate Remedies: a Novel. 3 vols. London, Tinsley.

1872, Dec. 9. Under the Greenwood Tree: a Rural Painting of the
Dutch School. 2 vols. London, Tinsley.

1873, June 2. A Pair of Blue Eyes: a Novel. 3 vols. London,
Tinsley. (_Tinsley's Magazine_, Sept., 1872-July, 1873.)

1874, Dec. 8. Far from the Madding Crowd. 2 vols. London, Smith,
Elder. (_Cornhill Magazine_, Jan.-Dec., 1874.)

1876, Apr. 15. The Hand of Ethelberta: a Comedy in Chapters. 2
vols. London, Smith, Elder. (_Cornhill Magazine_, July, 1875-May,
1876.)

1878, Nov. 16. The Return of the Native. 3 vols. London, Smith,
Elder. (Belgravia, Jan.-Dec., 1878.)

1880, Nov. 1. The Trumpet-Major: a Tale. 3 vols. London, Smith,
Elder. (_Good Words_, Jan.-Dec., 1880.)

1881, Dec. 31. A Laodicean; or, The Castle of the De Stancys: a
Story of To-day. 3 vols, London, Low. (_Harper's Magazine_, Jan.,
1881-Jan., 1882.)

1882, Nov. 1. Two on a Tower: a Romance. 3 vols. London, Low.
(_Atlantic Monthly_, May-Dec., 1882.)

1884, Jan. 25. The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid: a Novel.
N.Y., Munro. (_Graphic_, Summer No. for 1883.)

1886, June 1. The Mayor of Casterbridge: the Life and Death of a
Man of Character. 2 vols. London, Smith, Elder. (_Graphic_, Jan.
2-May 15, 1886.)

1887, Apr. 1. The Woodlanders. 3 vols. London, Macmillan.
(_Macmillan's Magazine_, May, 1886-April, 1887.)

1888, May 15. Wessex Tales, Strange, Lively, and Commonplace. 2
vols. London, Macmillan.

1891, June 6. A Group of Noble Dames. London, Osgood. (_Graphic_,
Christmas No., 1890.)

Dec. 12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles: a Pure Woman faithfully
presented. 3 vols. London, Osgood, 1892 [1891]. (_Graphic_, July
4-Dec. 26, 1891.)

1894, Feb. 24. Life's Little Ironies: a Set of Tales. London,
Osgood.

1895, Nov. 9. Jude the Obscure. London, Osgood. (_Harper's
Magazine_, Dec., 1894-Nov., 1895. Began as "The Simpletons"; then
changed its title to "Hearts Insurgent.")

1897, Mar. 20. The Well-Beloved: A Sketch of a Temperament. London,
Osgood. (The Pursuit of the Well-Beloved, _Illustrated London
News_, Oct.-Dec. 1892.)

1898, Dec. 24. Wessex Poems, and Other Verses. London, Harper.

1901, Nov. 30. Poems of the Past and the Present. London, Harper.

1904, Jan. 23. The Dynasts: a Drama of the Napoleonic Wars. Part 1.
London, Macmillan.

1906, Feb. 17. The Dynasts. Part 2. Macmillan.

1908, Feb. 22. The Dynasts. Part 3. Macmillan.

WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS

1 March 1837-

1860. Poems of Two Friends. By John James Piatt and W. D. Howells.
Columbus, Follett.

Lives and Speeches of Abraham Lincoln and Hannibal Hamlin. N.Y.,
Townsend. [The Biography of Hamlin is by J. L. Hayes.]

1866, Aug. 15. Venetian Life. N.Y., Hurd.

1867, Dec. 2. Italian Journeys. N.Y., Hurd.

1868, Dec. 1. No Love lost: a romance of travel. N.Y. (_Putnam's
Magazine_, Dec., 1868.)

1871, Jan. 2. Suburban Sketches. N.Y., Hurd.

1872, Jan. 1. Their Wedding Journey. Boston, Osgood. (_Atlantic
Monthly_, July-Dec., 1871.)

1873, May 10. A Chance Acquaintance. Boston, Osgood. (_Atlantic
Monthly_, Jan.-June, 1873.)

Sept. 27. Poems. Boston, Osgood.

1874, Dec. 5. A Foregone Conclusion. Boston, Osgood, 1875 [1874].
(_Atlantic Monthly_, July-Dec., 1874.)

1876, Feb. 12. A Day's Pleasure. Boston, Osgood. (_Atlantic
Monthly_, July-Sept., 1870.)

Sept. 16. Sketch of the Life and Character of Rutherford B. Hayes.
N.Y., Hurd.

Dec. 9. The Parlor Car: Farce. Boston, Osgood. (_Atlantic Monthly_,
Sept., 1876.)

1877, Apr. 28. Out of the Question: a Comedy. Boston, Osgood.
(_Atlantic Monthly_, Feb.-Apr., 1877.)

Oct. 13. A Counterfeit Presentment: Comedy. Boston, Osgood
(_Atlantic Monthly_, Aug.-Oct., 1877.)

1879, Mar. 1. The Lady of the Aroostook. Boston, Houghton.
(_Atlantic Monthly_, Nov., 1878-Mar., 1879.)

1880, June 26. The Undiscovered Country. Boston, Houghton.
(_Atlantic Monthly_, Jan.-July, 1880.)

1881, Aug. 6. A Fearful Responsibility, and other Stories. Boston,
Osgood.

Dec. 10. Doctor Breen's Practice: a Novel. Boston, Osgood.
(_Atlantic Monthly_, Aug.-Dec., 1881.)

1882, Oct. 14. A Modern Instance: a Novel. Boston, Osgood.
(_Century Magazine_, Dec., 1881-Oct., 1882.)

1883, Apr. 28. The Sleeping-Car: a Farce. Boston, Osgood.
(_Harper's Christmas_, Dec., 1882.)

Sept. 29. A Woman's Reason: a Novel. Boston, Osgood. (_Century_,
Feb.-Oct., 1883.)

Dec. 22. A Little Girl among the Old Masters, with Introduction and
Comment by W. D. Howells. Boston, Osgood, 1884 [1883].

1884, Mar. 22. The Register: Farce. Boston, Osgood. (_Harper's
Magazine_, Dec., 1884.)

May 24. Three Villages. Boston, Osgood. Niagara Revisited. Chicago,
Dalziel. (Suppressed.) (_Atlantic Monthly_, May, 1883.)

1885, Jan. 31. The Elevator: Farce. Boston, Osgood. (_Harper's
Magazine_, Dec., 1884.)

Aug. 22. The Rise of Silas Lapham. Boston, Ticknor. (_Century_,
Nov., 1884-Aug., 1885.)

Nov. 7. Tuscan Cities. Boston, Ticknor, 1886 [1885]. (_Century
Magazine_, Oct., 1885.)

1886, Jan. 2. The Garroters: Farce. N.Y., Harper. (_Harper's
Magazine_, Dec., 1885.)

Feb. 27. Indian Summer. Boston, Ticknor. (_Harper's Magazine_,
July, 1885-Feb., 1886.)

Dec. 18. The Minister's Charge; or, The Apprentice-ship of Lemuel
Barker. Boston, Ticknor, 1887 [1886]. (_Century Magazine_,
Feb.-Dec., 1886.)

1887, Oct. 8. Modern Italian Poets: Essays and Versions. N.Y.,
Harper.

Dec. 17. April Hopes. N.Y., Harper, 1888 [1887]. (_Harper's
Magazine_, Feb.-Nov., 1887.)

1888, Aug. 11. A Sea-Change; or, Love's Stowaway: a lyricated
Farce. Boston, Ticknor. (_Harper's Weekly_, July 14, 1888.)

Dec. 22. Annie Kilburn: a Novel. N.Y., Harper, 1889 [1888].
(_Harper's Magazine_, June-Nov., 1888.)

1889, Apr. 20. The Mouse-Trap, and other Farces. N.Y., Harper. (The
Mouse-Trap, _Harper's Magazine_, Dec., 1886.)

Dec. 7. A Hazard of New Fortunes: a Novel. N.Y., Harper, 1890
[1889]. (_Harper's Weekly_, Mar. 23-Nov. 16, 1889.)

1890, June 7. The Shadow of a Dream: a Story. NY., Harper.
(_Harper's Magazine_, Mar.-May, 1890.)

Oct. 18. A Boy's Town, described for _Harper's Young People_. N.Y.,
Harper. (_Harper's Young People_, Apr. 8-Aug. 26, 1890.)

1891, May 16. Criticism and Fiction. N.Y., Harper. [Selections from
the "Editor's Study" of _Harper's Magazine_.]

Oct. 17. The Albany Depot. N.Y., Harper, 1892 [1891]. (_Harper's
Weekly_, Dec. 14, 1889.)

Dec. 5. An Imperative Duty: a Novel. N.Y., Harper, 1892 [1891].
(_Harper's Magazine_, July-Oct., 1891.)

1892, Apr. 9. The Quality of Mercy: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. (_New
York_ (_Sunday_) _Sun._)

Aug. 6. A Letter of Introduction: Farce. N.Y., Harper. (_Harper's
Magazine_, Jan., 1892.)

Oct. 8. A Little Swiss Sojourn. N.Y., Harper. (_Harper's Magazine_,
Feb.-Mar., 1888.)

Dec. 17. Christmas Every Day, and other Stories told for Children.
N.Y., Harper, 1893 [1892].

1893, Apr. 1. The World of Chance: a Novel. N.Y., Harper.
(_Harper's Magazine_, Mar.-Nov., 1892.)

May 20. The Unexpected Guests: a Farce. N.Y., Harper. (_Harper's
Magazine_, Jan., 1893.)

Oct. 14. My Year in a Log Cabin. N.Y., Harper. (_Youth's
Companion_.)

Nov. 4. Evening Dress: Farce. N.Y., Harper. (_Cosmopolitan
Magazine_, May, 1892.)

Nov. 11. The Coast of Bohemia: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. (_Ladies'
Home Journal_, Dec., 1892-Oct., 1893.)

1894, June 2. A Traveler from Altruria: Romance. N.Y., Harper.
(_Cosmopolitan_, Nov., 1892-Oct., 1893.)

1895, June 22. My Literary Passions. N.Y., Harper. (_Ladies' Home
Journal_, Dec., 1892-Oct., 1893.)

Nov. 2. Stops of Various Quills. N.Y., Harper. (Eleven of the poems
appeared in _Harper's Magazine_, Dec., 1894.)