Mrs. Mayne Reid, present day.
obtaining books to read were considerable. Novels I devoured with avidity, and none gave me greater pleasure than those of Captain Mayne Reid, who was my favourite author at that period, and whose works have been read with equal enjoyment in later and more mature years. The name of "Oceola," which signifies "the rising sun," was adopted by me as a nom de plume for some small literary efforts that in those early years I contributed to journals. The late Mr. Henry Merritt, the art connoisseur, who, in conjunction with Mr. Richmond, R.A., achieved the marvellous restoration of the portrait of Richard II. in Westminster Abbey, was then the art critic of The Morning Star, the organ of the politicians then known as the Manchester School. This gentleman used to write out his art notices roughly at first, and then make alterations, corrections, and additions. It often fell to me to make fair copies of them for the Press, and thus I became accustomed to writing indirectly for The Morning Star, and one day thought I would write to that paper on my own account. A new play of Dion Boucicault's was being performed at the Adelphi, with incidents in it filched, I considered, from Mayne Reid, my favourite author. I was filled with youthful indignation, and penned a letter to the editor of The Morning Star (calling attention to this dramatic piracy), which, to my surprise, was inserted. My father and Mr. Merritt reproved me for my juvenile presumption, but I was secretly delighted, thinking the Byronic couplet—
"'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's self in print,
A book's a book, although there's nothing in't,"
was equally true regarding a letter. Shortly after the publication of my critical effusion, on June 20, 1862, I was sitting writing for my father in the committee room at his Fleet-street publishing house, which was then the centre for many now forgotten but successful public movements, when Captain Mayne Reid was announced. He had come to see my father on some business connected with the Garibaldian Committee, who had been engaged in despatching the English legion of volunteers to aid General Garibaldi in his struggle for the emancipation of Italy. My father, who was a personal friend of Garibaldi, was the acting secretary of this committee. In the course of conversation my father mentioned to the Captain, to whom I was introduced, the letter I had written to The Morning Star. Captain Reid was very cordial, shaking my hand with great energy, and warmly thanking me for my defence. He inquired why I had not sent him a copy of the letter, and requested that one might be sent. The Captain further declared that he should make it his business to give me a helping hand in the literary career that he concluded
