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SHOWING HOW MY NOVEL CAME TO BE WRITTEN.
Scene, the hall in UNCLE ROLAND'S tower; time, niyht; season, winter.
MR. CAXTON is seated before a great geographical globe, which he is
turning round leisurely, and "for his own recreation," as, according to
Sir Thomas Browne, a philosopher should turn round the orb of which that
globe professes to be the representation and effigies. My mother having
just adorned a very small frock with a very smart braid, is holding it
out at arm's length, the more to admire the effect. Blanche, though