THE BLACK ARROW--A TALE OF THE TWO ROSES
Critic on the Hearth
No one but myself knows what I have suffered, nor what my books
have gained, by your unsleeping watchfulness and admirable
pertinacity. And now here is a volume that goes into the world and
lacks your imprimatur: a strange thing in our joint lives; and the
reason of it stranger still! I have watched with interest, with
pain, and at length with amusement, your unavailing attempts to
peruse The Black Arrow; and I think I should lack humour indeed, if
I let the occasion slip and did not place your name in the fly-leaf
of the only book of mine that you have never read--and never will
read.
That others may display more constancy is still my hope. The tale
was written years ago for a particular audience and (I may say) in
rivalry with a particular author; I think I should do well to name
him, Mr. Alfred R. Phillips. It was not without its reward at the
time. I could not, indeed, displace Mr. Phillips from his well-won
priority; but in the eyes of readers who thought less than nothing
of Treasure Island, The Black Arrow was supposed to mark a clear
advance. Those who read volumes and those who read story papers
belong to different worlds. The verdict on Treasure Island was
reversed in the other court; I wonder, will it be the same with its
successor?
R. L. S.
SARANAC LAKE, April 8, 1888.
PROLOGUE--JOHN AMEND-ALL
On a certain afternoon, in the late springtime, the bell upon
Tunstall Moat House was heard ringing at an unaccustomed hour. Far
and near, in the forest and in the fields along the river, people
PagesTo menuNext>>