"MY NOVEL."

BOOK FIRST.

INITIAL CHAPTER.

SHOWING HOW MY NOVEL CAME TO BE WRITTEN.

Scene, the hall in UNCLE ROLAND'S tower; time, niyht; season, winter.

MR. CAXTON is seated before a great geographical globe, which he is
turning round leisurely, and "for his own recreation," as, according to
Sir Thomas Browne, a philosopher should turn round the orb of which that
globe professes to be the representation and effigies. My mother having
just adorned a very small frock with a very smart braid, is holding it
out at arm's length, the more to admire the effect. Blanche, though
leaning both hands on my mother's shoulder, is not regarding the frock,
but glances towards PISISTRATUS, who, seated near the fire, leaning back
in the chair, and his head bent over his breast, seems in a very bad
humour. Uncle Roland, who has become a great novel-reader, is deep in
the mysteries of some fascinating Third Volume. Mr. Squills has brought
the "Times" in his pocket for his own special profit and delectation, and
is now bending his brows over "the state of the money market," in great
doubt whether railway shares can possibly fall lower,--for Mr. Squills,
happy man! has large savings, and does not know what to do with his
money, or, to use his own phrase, "how to buy in at the cheapest in order
to sell out at the dearest."

MR. CAXTON (musingly).--"It must have been a monstrous long journey. It
would be somewhere hereabouts, I take it, that they would split off."