When Henry Vizetelly, that admirable scholar, historian, and journalist, was sent to prison for publishing Zola's novels mine were taken over by Walter Scott, and all were reprinted except “Spring Days.” This book was omitted from the list of my acknowledged works, for public and private criticism had shown it no mercy; and I had lost faith in it. All the welcome it had gotten were a few contemptuous paragraphs scattered through the Press, and an insolent article in _The Academy_, which I did not see, but of which I was notified by a friend in the Strand at the corner of Wellington Street. “No, I don't think they thought your book worth slashing. All I can tell you is that if any book of mi…
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