e that has since cost me dear more than once.

Eventually, my guide and I came to terms for the sum for which I had
held out, namely, 30_l._, which was the price I received for my very
first book, in addition to about 8_l._ that I had already had from the
magazine for serial use of a few of the stories.

So, in due course, my book, under the title of 'Cavalry Life,' was
brought out in two great cumbersome volumes by Messrs. Chatto & Windus,
and I was launched upon the world as a full-blown author under the name
of 'Winter.'

[Illustration: CAVALRY LIFE]

So many people have asked me why I took that name, and how I came to
think of it, that it will not, perhaps, be amiss if I give the reason in
this paper. It happened like this. During our negotiations, my guide
suggested that I had better take some _nom de guerre_, as it would
never do to bring out such a book under a woman's name. 'Make it as
real-sounding and non-committing as you can,' he wrote, and so, after
much cogitation and cudgelling of my brains, I chose the name of the
hero of the only story of the series which was written in the first
person, and called myself J. S. Winter. I believe that 'Cavalry Life'
was published on the last day of 1881.

Then followed the most trying time of all--that of waiting to see what
the Press would say of this, my first child, which had been so long in
coming to life, and had been chopped and changed, bundled from pillar to
post, until my heart was almost worn out before ever it saw the light.
Then, on January 14, 1882, I went into the Subscription Library at York,
where I was living, and began to search the new journals through, in but
faint hopes, however, of seeing a review of my book so soon as that; for
I was quite alone in the world, so far as literary matters went. Indeed,
not one friend did I possess who could in any way influence my career,
or obtain the slightest favour for me.

I remember that morning so well; it is, I think, printed on my memory as
the word 'Calais' was on the heart of Queen Mary. It was a fine, cold
morning, and there was a blazing fire in the inner room, where the
reviews were kept. I sat down at the table, and took up the _Saturday
Review_, never dreaming for a moment that I should be honoured by so
much as a mention in a journal which I held in such awe and respect. And
as I turned over the leaves, my eyes fell on a row of foot-notes at the
bottom of the page, giving the names of the books