The Argosy — page 364: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Mrs. Henry Wood. 341 met it with her usual calm smile, and assured Mrs. C. that such assertions could do harm to none but those who uttered them. On another occasion, an acquaintance—this time a person we knew well—was taking a mutual friend into dinner at a country-house in Shropshire. Unaware that the lady upon his arm was also a friend of ours, he boldly declared that he did most of the editing of the Arcosy, and wrote quite half Mrs. Henry Wood’s works. This gentleman is now in Holy Orders, and a country vicar, and one may charitably hope that he has repented of the error of his ways. On a third occasion, my sister was at a ball at Sir William Walker’s, when her host brought up and introduced to her a gentleman for the next dance. At the same time, he made some playful allusion to her being Mrs. Henry Wood’s daughter. When the dance was over, the young man went up very gravely to Sir William, and said : ‘That young lady cannot be genuine. She is not Mrs. Henry Wood’s daughter at all. I know Mrs. Henry Wood, the author of East Lynne, quite well. She lives near my home in the country, and I often meet her. This young lady lives in London, and I can see plainly knows nothing about the real Mrs. Henry Wood.” Sir William, a little annoyed, but also entertained, replied : “© T can only assure you, sir, that whoever your Mrs. Henry Wood may be, she is not Mrs. Henry Wood, the author of Last Lynne. I can further assure you, that the young lady with wium you have just been dancing is not here as my guest to-night under fictitious circumstances.” Then leaving the young man in a state of confusion worse confounded, he went up to my sister, and with humour narrated the incident, laughingly advising her to enter an action against her late partner for defamation of character. One other occasion of misrepresentation may be recorded, but it was of a more serious nature. Some years ago, in the course of a trial at Scarborough, a witness under examination, and, therefore, under oath, declared that he was the author of the papers signed JOHNNy LUDLOw in the ARGosy. This could not be passed over as the mere idle declarations of dishonourable men and women in private life. The lawyers conduct- ing the case were advised that, unless the declaration so publicly made were as publicly denied, further steps would be taken. It was at once done. The author of the assertion wrote to the papers declaring that what he had stated was untrue, and that he had never written one word of “JoHNNy LuUDLow.” At the same time, he privately wrote a letter begging for mercy, which, I need not say, he received. My mother, during her lifetime, never troubled about such matters as these, but passed them over with her usual calmness as of no im- portance. Nor, indeed, were they. As I have already remarked, she WOU. XLII. Z COMMICOOOKS.C©