room tables, I will merely mention that a most representation of my
progenitor, under his nom de theatre, Mephistopheles, may be seen
now in London, and I should recommend all who wish to understand his
character to go to the Lyceum, though, between ourselves, he
strongly disapproves of the whole performance.

I was introduced into the world by an old lady named Mrs. O'Reilly.
She was a very pleasant old lady, the wife of a General, and one of
those sociable, friendly, talkative people who do much to cheer
their neighbours, particularly in a deadly-lively provincial place
like Muddleton, where the standard of social intercourse is not very
high. Mrs. O'Reilly had been in her day a celebrated beauty; she
was now grey-haired and stout, but still there was something
impressive about her, and few could resist the charm of her manner
and the pleasant easy flow of her small talk. Her love of gossip
amounted almost to a passion, and nothing came amiss to her; she
liked to know everything about everybody, and in the main I think
her interest was a kindly one, though she found that a little bit of
scandal, every now and then, added a piquant flavour to the homely
fare provided by the commonplace life of the Muddletonians.

I will now, without further preamble, begin the history of my life.


"I assure you, my dear Lena, Mr. Zaluski is nothing less than a
Nihilist!"

The sound waves set in motion by Mrs. O'Reilly's words were
tumultuously heaving in the atmosphere when I sprang into being, a
young but perfectly formed and most promising slander. A delicious