MONG our many modern novelists, most of whom have created more or less of a temporary furore, Edna Lyall still holds her own. Unlike the majority of quickly made names, hers has neither died nor sunk into partial oblivion, but with the issue of each fresh work gains in force and authority, and steadily makes itself felt as a power and influence for good. She has the faculty of expressing her ideas and convictions so as to convey the exact meaning she desires to others-a most difficult thing to accomplish-and has a strong grasp of actualities and present everyday life. Edna Lyall's professional name is a transposition of her private one, "Ada Ellen Bayly." She comes of a legal family. Her grandfather was a bencher and treasurer of Gray's Inn, and her father a barrister of the Inner Temple. Her only brother, the Rev. Robert Burges Bayly, though a member of the Inner Temple and still owning his grandfather's chambers in King's Bench Walk, is a clergyman of the Church of England and rector of a country parish in Herefordshire. On her mother's side, Edna Lyall is descended from the well-known divine, Thomas Bradbury, who in Queen Anne's time went by the name of "Bold Bradbury;" his outspoken frankness being tolerated by the courtiers for the sake of his wit. In a preface to a book of sermons published a few years ago by Messrs. Longman, called the "All Father," Edna Lyall refers to the great influence exercised over her by the writer, the late Mr. P. H. Newnham, a cousin of her mother's. She writes: "I gladly yield to Mrs. Newnham's wish, and welcome the chance of being connected in this slight way with the work of one who during nine years was my most loving friend and teacher. "The sermons were all preached in a country church, and this perhaps in part explains one of their chief characteristicstheir extreme simplicity. But the writer's mind was one of rare depth and originality, and though working for the greater part of his life in remote country districts, he did not hide his light under a bushel or give his people mere platitudes. He made them think.... The other chief characteristic of his sermons seems to me their depth. No conventional, superficial view of the subject contented him. He insisted on going to the root of the matter, on making EDNA LYALL WHEN A CHILD. his hearers ask themselves what they meant by the words which they were in the habit of saying so glibly and mechanically. "And surely this is what is particularly needed now! No surface teaching can strengthen and prepare the mind for 19th. century life. It is impossible to take up a book, a magazine, or a newspaper without having the great difficulties of the day forced upon us, and "The humming of the dreary pulpit drone" can never help us to face aright the questions and problems of our time. We need living words, not dead formalities; fresh thoughts, not empty phrases; the straightforward facing of doubts and perplexities, not the weak and lazy shelving of the subject.... The writer's life in that lonely west country parish, his unwearying and patient toil, his brave efforts to do his parish work in the very best way possible in spite of physical sufferings which would have daunted most men-all this can be fully known to only a few. But those of us who knew and loved him have a great longing that his influence, so powerful yet so restricted by circumstances during his lifetime, should now reach a wider circle. As I write there comes to my mind the epitaph on Andrew Rykman's grave, quoted in one of Whittier's poems: "Trust is truer than our fears, Nor in death is loss.'" It will be seen by the foregoing what great love and admiration Edna Lyall had for the writer, what marvellous power and influence his advice and counsels had over her life and work, and how deeply and thoroughly she thinks out any subject brought before her. Certainly none of her books can be accused of surface teaching. There is a deep, powerful motive in each one, which is subtlely and cleverly worked out to the very end, leaving no doubt as to the author's exact meaning, but conveying and leaving a lasting impression to the reader, and giving unlimited food for thought. Miss Bayly is slight and fragile in appearance, with a quiet, restful face full of expression, kindly, thoughtful eyes, firm mouth, a high, intellectual forehead, and an abundance of dark brown hair. To strangers she is rather shy and reserved, but to those who are fortunate enough to know her personally, and who go to her in a time of trouble or anxiety, she is kindliness and tenderness personified; full of sympathy anything in her power to make things a little brighter for others. Edna Lyall's home is in a picturesque gabled, red-tiled house, covered with virginian creeper and ivy and sheltered by elm trees. It stands in College Road, Eastbourne, and from its upper windows has a lovely view over the woods surrounding the Duke of Devonshire's house, Compton Place, and the South Downs beyond. Here the novelist resides with her sister and brotherin-law, the Rev. Hampden Jameson, senior curate of S. Saviour's, Eastbourne. At the top of the house, facing the road and the view above mentioned, she has her study, daintily fitted up with every convenience, where she can work without disturbing or being disturbed by others. This room is distinctly characteristic of the author's refinement and personality. There is no display of wealth or luxury, but everything that is necessary and conducive to real hard work combined with comfort is here. Luxurious seats with well-padded backs, and soft, restful easychairs, are distributed about the room. Books of instruction and reference, well but plainly bound, are on the neatly arranged shelves, with some of Edna Lyall's favourite authors-Kingsley, Robert Browning, Mrs. Browning, Frederick Robertson, Sir Walter Scott, Whittier, and Thomas Erskine, of Linlathen, being conspicuous among many volumes of philosophy, poetry, religion, politics, and science. The pictures and engravings are as varied as the books, each having some special interest attached to it. Between two pictures of a distinctly religious character"The Soul's Awakening," by Sant, and "The Visit of the Child Christ to the Temple," by Hoffman-hangs a portrait of F. D. Maurice, a writer whom Edna Lyall maintains has also had a great influence over her work. The room is indeed a gallery of great men and women. On the bookshelf stands the latest portrait of Mr. Gladstone, for whom the author has the highest respect and admiration, and of whose Irish policy she is a warm supporter. In his near neighbourhood we find the portrait of that grand old Tory, Sir Walter Scott. Close by is Charles Lamb, among the books he loved. In one corner is a little group of 17th century patriots-John Hampden and Algernon Sydney, armed for the fight and with their mottoes encircling them; Crom well, stern and resolute; Milton as a child, with long waving hair. In another nook we are confronted by Mazzini's sad eyes, by Grattan's majestic face, and by gentle Chaucer, who contrasts strangely enough with the more modern and careworn mortals. Interspersed with these are many landscapes, Irish trout streams, English lakes, Norwegian fiords, and the mountains of the Tyrol, all bearing witness to Edna Lyall's love of nature. A special interest is attached to a picture of an Italian grotto near Naples, the scene of the powerful and dramatic incident with the brigands in the "Knight Errant." Among the many water-colour sketches on the walls, done by a personal lady friend, is a most charming one of Capel Curig Lake, the delicate lights and shades being most exquisitely portrayed. Photographs of Mrs. Siddons, Mr. and Mrs. Kendal, of Vera Beringer, and of Mrs. Mary Davies, proclaim the author's appreciation of the musical and dramatic profession. It was in this pretty, cosy room that I had a most interesting interview with the gifted author, and passed one of the pleasantest hours in my life. "I suppose all your books have been written in this room?" I remarked, looking round with a feeling of awe, and wondering how much had been evolved there. "Won by "Not all," was the answer. Waiting,' which was my first book, 'Donovan,' and 'We Two' were all written at Lincoln, but my other books, or part of them, at any rate, have been written in this room. I wrote a good deal whilst travelling abroad-'A Hardy Norseman' after I had been in Norway, 'Donovan' and 'We Two' after a long stay in Italy and on the Riviera." "You had a rapid success, had you not?" I said, thinking it could hardly be otherwise in the case of so clever a woman. To my surprise she replied: "No, indeed, I hadn't. It is quite a mistake to think that I have had a very easy career. Won by Waiting,' a story intended for girls, the first thing I published, failed altogether. Then in 1882 'Donovan' appeared, in three volumes. This, too, although well reviewed, was an utter failure. During 1883 the manuscript of We Two' was refused by half-a-dozen publishers, and I well remember turning into St. Paul's one day after the sorrows of Paternoster Row, and miserably wondering |