PREFACE.

SOME imaginary narratives must be written in the names of those fictitious adventurers whose fortunes they relate. When the author adds his own name, he subscribes it to an absurdity. I would leave my man of straw responsible for his autobiography, if this evasion might be as well reconciled with honesty as with prudence. But it is not just that the buffets of criticism should be transferred from him and me to any third person; or that a profitable error should be perpetuated.

Two years ago, I published-thus far anonymously—a fictitious history collected from Plutarch's Lives, and called "The Fawn of Sertorius." It was instantly supposed to have been written by my brother: and several, even among his most discerning acquaintances, might hardly be convinced that the first page of it which he ever saw, was already in print. This misapprehension seems