SQUILLS.--"'There is a Secret; Find it out!'" PISISTRATUS (pushed to the verge of human endurance, and upsetting tongs, poker, and fire-shovel).--"What nonsense you are talking, all of you! For Heaven's sake consider what an important matter we are called upon to decide.

It is not now the titles of those very respectable works which issued from the Minerva Press that I ask you to remember,--it is to invent a title for mine,--My Novel!" MR.

CAXTON (clapping his hands gently).--"Excellent! capital! Nothing can be better; simple, natural, pertinent, concise--" PISISTRATUS.--"What is it, sir, what is it?
Have you really thought of a title to My Novel ?" MR.

CAXTON.--"You have hit it yourself,--'My Novel.' It is your Novel; people will know it is your Novel.

Turn and twist the English language as you will, be as allegorical as Hebrew, Greek, Roman, Fabulist, or Puritan, still, after all, it is your Novel, and nothing more nor less than your Novel." PISISTRATUS (thoughtfully, and sounding the words various ways).--"'My Novel!'-- um-um! 'My Novel!' rather bold--and curt, eh ?" MR.