‘‘The name is ‘Edward Lear,’” said one of the ladies.
“Ah!” said the first-speaker; ‘‘so it is printed, but that is only a whim of the real author, the Earl of Derby. ‘Edward’ is his christian name, and, as you may see, Lear is only Earl transposed.”
‘‘But,’’ said the lady, doubtingly, ‘‘here is a dedication to the great-grand-children, grand-nephews, and grand-nieces of Edward, thirteenth Earl of Derby, by the author, Edward Lear.”
‘‘That,” replied the other, ‘‘is simply a piece of mystification; I am in a position to know that the whole book was composed and illustrated by Lord Derby himself. In fact, there is no such a person at all as Edward Lear.”
“Yet,’’ said the other lady, ‘‘some friends of mine tell me they know Mr. Lear.”
‘‘Quite a mistake! completely a mistake!” said the old gentleman, becoming rather angry at the contradiction, ‘‘I am well aware of what I am saying: I can inform you, no such a person as ‘Edward Lear’ exists!”
Hitherto I had kept silence, but as my hat was, as well as my handkerchief and stick, largely marked inside with my name, and, as I happened to have in my pocket several letters addressed to me, the temptation was too great to resist, so, flashing all these articles at once on my would-be extinguisher’s attention, I speedily reduced him to silence.
The second volume of Nonsense, commencing with the verses, “The Owl and the Pussy Cat,’’ was written at different times; and for different sets of children: the whole being collected in
