and virtuous heart, which moves us to stand as well as we can
with our friends, to say, 'Allow that there is really a good thing now
and then in--My Novel.' Moreover, as a novel aspires to embrace most of
the interests or the passions that agitate mankind,--to generalize, as
it were, the details of life that come home to us all,--so, in reality,
the title denotes that if it be such as the author may not unworthily
call his Novel, it must also be such as the reader, whoever he be, may
appropriate in part to himself, representing his own ideas, expressing
his own experience, reflecting, if not in full, at least in profile,
his own personal identity. Thus, when we glance at the looking-glass in
another man's room, our likeness for the moment appropriates the mirror;
and according to the humour in which we are, or the state of our spirits
and health, we say to ourselves, 'Bilious and yellow!--I might as well
take care of my diet!' Or, 'Well, I 've half a mind to propose to dear
Jane; I'm not such an ill-looking dog as I thought for!' Still, whatever
result from that glance at the mirror, we never doubt that 't is our
likeness we see; and each says to the phantom reflection, 'Thou art
myself,' though the mere article of furniture that gives the reflection
belongs to another. It is my likeness if it be his glass. And a
narrative that is true to the Varieties of Life is every Man's Novel,
no matter from what shores, by what rivers, by what bays, in what pits,
were extracted the sands and the silex, the pearlash, the nitre, and
quicksilver which form its materials; no matter who the craftsman who
fashioned its form; no matter who the vendor that sold, or the customer
who bought: still, if I but recognize some trait of myself, 't is my
likeness that makes it 'My Novel.'"

MR. SQUILLS (puzzled, and therefore admiring).--"Subtle, sir,--very
subtle. Fine organ of Comparison in Mr. Caxton's head, and much called
into play this evening!"

MR. CAXTON (benignly).--"Finally, the author by this most admirable and
much signifying title dispenses with all necessity of preface. He need
insinuate no merits, he need extenuate no faults; for, by calling his
work thus curtly 'MY Novel,' he doth delicately imply that it is no use
wasting talk about faults or merits."

PISISTRATUS (amazed).--"How is that, sir?"

MR. CAXTON.--"What so clear? You imply that, though a better novel may
be written by others, you do not expect to write a novel to wh