on the banks of the Thames, between
Teddington Lock and Hampton Bridge, George Talboys lives with his sister
and brother-in-law, the latter having now obtained success at the Bar.
Georgey pays occasional visits from Eton to play with a pretty baby
cousin. It is a year since a black-edged letter came to Robert Audley,
announcing that Madame Taylor had died after a long illness, which
Monsieur Val described as _maladie de longueur_. Sir Michael Audley
lives in London with Alicia, who is very shortly to become the wife of
Sir Harry Towers, a sporting Herts baronet.

* * * * *

EDWARD BRADLEY ("CUTHBERT BEDE")

The Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green

Edward Bradley is one of few English humorists of the
mid-Victorian era who produced any work that is likely to
survive the wear of time and change of taste. "The Adventures
of Mr. Verdant Green," his earliest and best story, is, in its
way, a masterpiece. Never has the lighter and gayer side of
Oxford life been depicted with so much humour and fidelity;
and what makes this achievement still more remarkable is the
fact that Cuthbert Bede (to give Bradley the name which he
adopted for literary purposes and made famous) was not an
Oxford man. He was born at Kidderminster in 1827, and educated
at Durham University, with the idea of becoming a clergyman.
But not being old enough to take orders, he stayed for a year
at Oxford, without, however, matriculating there. At the age
of twenty he began to write for "Punch," and "The Adventures
of Verdant Green" was composed in 1853, when he was still on
the staff of that paper. The book, on its publication, had an
immense vogue, and though twenty-six other books followed from
his pen, it is still the most popular. He died on December 11,
1889.

_I.--A Very Quiet Party_

As Mr. Verdant Green was sitting, sad and lonely, in his rooms
overlooking the picturesque, mediaeval quadrangle of Brazenface College,
Oxford, a German band began to play "Home, Sweet Home," with that truth
and delicacy of expression which the wandering minstrels of Germany seem
to acquire intuitively. The sweet melancholy of the air, as it came
subdued into softer tones by distance, would probably have moved any lad
who had just been torn from the shelter of his family to fight, all
inexperienced, the battle of life. On Mr. Verdan