Moonbeams From the Larger Lunacy | Page 4

Magazine, The Popular Magazine, Life, Puck, The Century, Methuen's Annual, and all others who are in any way implicated in the making of this book.
STEPHEN LEACOCK.
McGill University, Montreal. Oct. 1, 1915.

CONTENTS
I SPOOF: A Thousand-Guinea Novel II THE READING PUBLIC III AFTERNOON ADVENTURES AT MY CLUB l--The Anecdotes of Dr. So and So 2--The Shattered Health of Mr. Podge 3--The Amazing Travels of Mr. Yarner 4--The Spiritual Outlook of Mr. Doomer 5--The Reminiscences of Mr. Apricot 6--The Last Man Out of Europe 7--The War Mania of Mr. Jinks and Mr. Blinks 8--The Ground Floor 9--The Hallucination of Mr. Butt IV RAM SPUDD V ARISTOCRATIC ANECDOTES VI EDUCATION MADE AGREEABLE VII AN EVERY-DAY EXPERIENCE VIII TRUTHFUL ORATORY IX OUR LITERARY BUREAU X SPEEDING UP BUSINESS XI WHO IS ALSO WHO XII PASSIONATE PARAGRAPHS XIII WEEJEE THE PET DOG XIV SIDELIGHTS ON THE SUPERMEN XV THE SURVIVAL or THE FITTEST XVI THE FIRST NEWSPAPER XVII IN THE GOOD TIME AFTER THE WAR

I.--Spoof. A Thousand-Guinea Novel. New! Fascinating! Perplexing!

CHAPTER I
Readers are requested to note that this novel has taken our special prize of a cheque for a thousand guineas. This alone guarantees for all intelligent readers a palpitating interest in every line of it. Among the thousands of MSS. which reached us--many of them coming in carts early in the morning, and moving in a dense phalanx, indistinguishable from the Covent Garden Market waggons; others pouring down our coal-chute during the working hours of the day; and others again being slipped surreptitiously into our letter-box by pale, timid girls, scarcely more than children, after nightfall (in fact many of them came in their night-gowns),--this manuscript alone was the sole one--in fact the only one--to receive the prize of a cheque of a thousand guineas. To other competitors we may have given, inadvertently perhaps, a bag of sovereigns or a string of pearls, but to this story alone is awarded the first prize by the unanimous decision of our judges.
When we say that the latter body included two members of the Cabinet, two Lords of the Admiralty, and two bishops, with power in case of dispute to send all the MSS. to the Czar of Russia, our readers will breathe a sigh of relief to learn that the decision was instant and unanimous. Each one of them, in reply to our telegram, answered immediately SPOOF.
This novel represents the last word in up-to-date fiction. It is well known that the modern novel has got far beyond the point of mere story-telling. The childish attempt to INTEREST the reader has long since been abandoned by all the best writers. They refuse to do it. The modern novel must convey a message, or else it must paint a picture, or remove a veil, or open a new chapter in human psychology. Otherwise it is no good. SPOOF does all of these things. The reader rises from its perusal perplexed, troubled, and yet so filled with information that rising itself is a difficulty.
We cannot, for obvious reasons, insert the whole of the first chapter. But the portion here presented was praised by The Saturday Afternoon Review as giving one of the most graphic and at the same time realistic pictures of America ever written in fiction.
Of the characters whom our readers are to imagine seated on the deck--on one of the many decks (all connected by elevators)--of the Gloritania, one word may be said. Vere de Lancy is (as the reviewers have under oath declared) a typical young Englishman of the upper class. He is nephew to the Duke of--, but of this fact no one on the ship, except the captain, the purser, the steward, and the passengers are, or is, aware.
In order entirely to conceal his identity, Vere de Lancy is travelling under the assumed name of Lancy de Vere. In order the better to hide the object of his journey, Lancy de Vere (as we shall now call him, though our readers will be able at any moment to turn his name backwards) has given it to be understood that he is travelling merely as a gentleman anxious to see America. This naturally baffles all those in contact with him.
The girl at his side--but perhaps we may best let her speak for herself.
Somehow as they sat together on the deck of the great steamer in the afterglow of the sunken sun, listening to the throbbing of the propeller (a rare sound which neither of them of course had ever heard before), de Vere felt that he must speak to her. Something of the mystery of the girl fascinated him. What was she doing here alone with no one but her mother and her maid, on the bosom of the Atlantic? Why was she here? Why was she not somewhere else? The thing puzzled, perplexed him. It