SARAH GRAND
While on a recent visit at a country house during the pleasant informal five o'clock tea hour that precedes the sound of the dressing-gong for dinner, a lively conversation occurred which I mentally noted down with a view to future journalistic use. Its subject was Sarah Grand, and the theme was prompted by the arrival of a box of books from Messrs. Smith & Son, that had been eagerly unpacked and handed round. Among the collection were "The Beth Book," and a volume entitled “The Tenor and the Boy, which had originally formed part of the famous "Heavenly Twins," but was just published as separate work by itself. An animated discussion soon followed concerning the gifted author's personality, her habits and her tastes. There was a goodly company assembled—some half-dozen hunting men in pink, with mud-bespattered boots and breeches, a sprinkling of girls mostly attired in neat Busvine riding-habits, three winsome young matrons, together with a sweet old white-haired lady of the grande dame type. Now nothing is more varying than the different impressions produced upon people with regard to the individuality of the authors in whom
