for nearly twenty years
without being given to the public in book form. In 1910 I decided,
however, that they should go out and find their place with my readers.
The first story in the book, Cumner's Son, which represents about four
times the length of an ordinary short story, was published in Harper's
Weekly, midway between 1890 and 1900. All the earlier stories belonged
to 1890, 1891, 1892, and 1893. The first of these to be published was
'A Sable Spartan', 'An Amiable Revenge', 'A Vulgar Fraction', and 'How
Pango Wango Was Annexed'. They were written before the Pierre series,
and were instantly accepted by Mr. Frederick Greenwood, that great
journalistic figure of whom the British public still takes note, and for
whom it has an admiring memory, because of his rare gifts as an editor
and publicist, and by a political section of the public, because Mr.
Greenwood recommended to Disraeli the purchase of the Suez Canal shares.
Seventeen years after publishing these stories I had occasion to write
to Frederick Greenwood, and in my letter I said: "I can never forget
that you gave me a leg up in my first struggle for recognition in the
literary world." His reply was characteristic; it was in keeping with
the modest, magnanimous nature of the man. He said: "I cannot remember
that there was any day when you required a leg up."

While still contributing to the 'Anti-Jacobin', which had a short life
and not a very merry one, I turned my attention to a weekly called 'The
Speaker', to which I have referred elsewhere, edited by Mr. Wemyss Reid,
afterwards Sir Wemyss Reid, and in which Mr. Quiller-Couch was then
writing a striking short story nearly every week. Up to that time I had
only interviewed two editors. One was Mr. Kinloch-Cooke, now Sir Clement
Kinloch-Cooke, who at that time was editor of the 'English Illustrated
Magazine', and a very good, courteous, and generous editor he was, and
he had a very good magazine; the other was an editor whose name I do
not care to mention, because his courtesy was not on the same expansive
level as his vanity.

One bitter winter's day in 1891 I went to Wemyss Reid to tell him, if
he would hear me, that I had in my mind a series of short stories of
Australia and the South Seas, and to ask him if he could give them a
place in 'The Speaker'. It was a Friday afternoon, and as I went into
the smudgy little office I saw a gentleman with a small brown bag
emerging from another room.

At that m