



Transcribed from the 1890 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition by David
Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org





THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SLANDER


BY
EDNA LYALL

AUTHOR OF 'DONOVAN' 'WE TWO' 'IN THE GOLDEN DAYS'
'KNIGHT ERRANT' ETC.

   _Trust not to each accusing tongue_,
      _As most week persons do_;
   _But still believe that story false_
     _Which ought not to be true_

   SHERIDAN

_NEW EDITION_
(THIRTY-NINTH TO FORTY-FIRST THOUSAND)

LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET
1890

_All rights reserved_

DEDICATED
TO ALL
WHO IT MAY CONCERN




MY FIRST STAGE


   At last the tea came up, and so
   With that our tongues began to go.
   Now in that house you're sure of knowing
   The smallest scrap of news that's going.
   We find it there the wisest way
   To take some care of what we say.

   _Recreation_.  JANE TAYLOR.

I was born on the 2nd September, 1886, in a small, dull, country town.
When I say the town was dull, I mean, of course, that the inhabitants
were unenterprising, for in itself Muddleton was a picturesque place, and
though it laboured under the usual disadvantage of a dearth of bachelors
and a superfluity of spinsters, it might have been pleasant enough had it
not been a favourite resort for my kith and kin.

My father has long enjoyed a world-wide notoriety; he is not, however, as
a rule named in good society, though he habitually frequents it; and as I
am led to believe that my autobiography will possibly be circulated by
Mr. Mudie, and will lie about on drawing-room tables, I will merely
mention that a most representation of my progenitor, under his _nom de
theatre_, Mephistopheles, may be seen now in London, and I should
recommend all who wish to understand his character to go to the Lyceum,
though, between ourselves, he strongly disapproves of the whole
performance.

I was introduced into the world by an old lady named Mrs. O'Reilly.  She
was a very pleasant old lady, the wife of a General, and one of those
sociable, friendly, talkative people who do much to cheer their
neighbours, particularly in a deadly-lively provincial place like
Muddleton, where the standard of social intercourse is not very high.
Mrs. O'Reilly had been in her day a celebrated beauty; she was now grey-
haired and stout, but still there was something impressive about her, and
few could resist the charm of her manner and the pleasant easy flow of
her small talk.  Her love of gossip amounted almost to a passion, and
nothing came amiss to her; she liked to know everything about everybody,
and in the main I think her interest was a kindly one, though she found
that a little bit of scandal, every now and then, added a piquant flavour
to the homely fare provided by the commonplace life of the Muddletonians.

I will now, without further preamble, begin the history of my life.

* * * * *

"I assure you, my dear Lena, Mr. Zaluski is nothing less than a
Nihilist!"

The sound waves set in motion by Mrs. O'Reilly's words were tumultuously
heaving in the atmosphere when I sprang into being, a young but perfectly
formed and most promising slander.  A delicious odour of tea pervaded the
drawing-room, it was orange-flower pekoe, and Mrs. O'Reilly was just
handing one of the delicate Crown Derby cups to her visitor, Miss Lena
Houghton.

"What a shocking thing!  Do you really mean it?" exclaimed Miss Houghton.
"Thank you, cream but no sugar; don't you know, Mrs. O'Reilly, that it is
only Low-Church people who take sugar nowadays?  But, really, now, about
Mr. Zaluski?  How did you find it out?"

"My dear, I am an old woman, and I have learnt in the course of a
wandering life to put two and two together," said Mrs. O'Reilly.  She had
somehow managed to ignore middle age,