larity of
the author.

If a story-teller is prolific, the danger of his characters coinciding
with those of people in real life who are unknown to him is much greater
than would be imagined; the mere similarity of name may of course be
disregarded; but when in addition to that there is also a resemblance of
circumstance, it is difficult to persuade the man of flesh and blood
that his portrait is an undesigned one. The author of 'Vanity Fair'
fell, in at least one instance, into a most unfortunate mistake of this
kind; while a not less popular author even gave his hero the same name
and place in the Ministry which were (subsequently) possessed by a
living politician.

It is better, however, for his own reputation that the story-teller
should risk a few actions for libel on account of these unfortunate
coincidences than that he should adopt the melancholy device of using
blanks or asterisks. With the minor novelists of a quarter of a century
ago it was quite common to introduce their characters as Mr. A and Mr.
B, and very difficult their readers found it to interest themselves in
the fortunes and misfortunes of an initial:

It was in the summer of the year 18--, and the sun was setting behind
the low western hills beneath which stands the town of C; its dying
gleams glistened on the weather-cock of the little church, beneath
whose tower two figures were standing, so deep in shadow that little
more could be made out concerning them save that they were young
persons of the opposite sex. The elder and taller, however, was the
fascinating Lord B; the younger (presenting a strong contrast to her
companion in social position, but yet belonging to the true nobility
of nature) was no other than the beautiful Patty G, the cobbler's
daughter.

This style of narrative should be avoided.

Another difficulty of the story-teller, and one unhappily in which no
advice can be of much service to him, is how to describe the lapse of
time and of locomotion. To the dramatist nothing is easier than to print
in the middle of his playbill, 'Forty years are here supposed to have
elapsed;' or 'Scene I.: A drawing-room in Mayfair; Scene II.:
Greenland.' But the story-teller has to describe how these little
changes are effected, without being able to take his readers into his
confidence.[7] He can't say, 'Gentle reader, please to imagine that the
winter is over, and the summer has come round since the conclusion of
our la