mixing of painter and
painted, a 'third something' between these two; just as what we call
colour and sound are born of the play of undulation upon organism.

INTRODUCTION TO THE SNOWDON EDITION OF 1901

Though written many years ago this story was, for certain personal
reasons easy to guess, withheld from publication--withheld, as _The
Times_ pointed out, because 'with the _Dichtung_ was mingled
a good deal of _Wahrheit_,' But why did I still delay in
publishing it after these reasons for withholding it had passed away?
This is a question that has often been put to me both in print and in
conversation. And yet I should have imagined that the explanation was
not far to seek. It was simply diffidence; in other words it was that
infirmity which, though generally supposed to belong to youth, comes
to a writer, if it comes at all, with years. Undoubtedly there was a
time in my life when I should have leapt with considerable rashness
into the brilliant ranks of our contemporary novelists. But this was
before I had reached what I will call the diffident period in the
life of a writer. And then, again, I had often been told by George
Borrow, and also by my friend Francis Groome, the great living
authority on Romany matters, that there was in England no interest in
Gypsies. Altogether then, had it not been for the unexpected success
of _The Coming of Love_, a story of Gypsy life, it is doubtful
whether I should not have delayed the publication of _Aylwin_
until the great warder of the gates of day we call Death should close
his portal behind me and shut me off from these dreams. However, I am
very glad now that I did publish it; for it has brought around me a
number of new friends--brought them at a time when new friends were
what I yearned for--a time when, looking back through this vision of
my life, I seem to be looking down an Appian way--a street of
tombs--the tombs of those I loved. No wonder, then, that I was deeply
touched by the kindness with which the Public and the Press received
the story.

One critic did me the honour of remarking upon what he called the
'absolute newness of the plot and incidents of _Aylwin_.' He
seems to have forgotten, however, that one incident--the most daring
incident in the book--that of the rifling of a grave for treasure
--is not new: it will at once remind folk-lorists of certain
practices charged against our old Norse invaders. And students of
Celtic and Gaelic literature are f