H. G. WELLS. CONTENTS INTRODUCTION CHAPTER THE FIRST THE BACK OF MISS BATHWICK AND GEORGE BOON CHAPTER THE SECOND BEING THE FIRST CHAPTER OF "THE MIND OF THE RACE" CHAPTER THE THIRD THE GREAT SLUMP, THE REVIVAL OF LETTERS, AND THE GARDEN BY THE SEA CHAPTER THE FOURTH OF ART, OF LITERATURE, OF MR HENRY JAMES CHAPTER THE FIFTH OF THE ASSEMBLING AND OPENING OF THE WORLD CONFERENCE ON THE MIND OF THE RACE CHAPTER THE SIXTH OF NOT LIKING HALLERY AND THE ROYAL SOCIETY FOR THE DISCOURAGEMENT OF LITERATURE CHAPTER THE SEVENTH WILKINS MAKES CERTAIN OBJECTIONS CHAPTER THE EIGHTH THE BEGINNING OF "THE WILD ASSES OF THE DEVIL" CHAPTER THE NINTH THE HUNTING OF THE WILD ASSES OF THE DEVIL CHAPTER THE TENTH THE STORY OF THE LAST TRUMP BOON, THE MIND OF THE RACE, THE WILD ASSES OF THE DEVIL, _and_ THE LAST TRUMP CHAPTER THE FIRST The Back of Miss Bathwick and George Boon § 1 It is quite probable that the reader does not know of the death of George Boon, and that "remains" before his name upon the title-page will be greeted with a certain astonishment. In the ordinary course of things, before the explosion of the war, the death of George Boon would have been an event--oh! a three-quarters of a column or more in the _Times_ event, and articles in the monthlies and reminiscences. As it is, he is not so much dead as missing. Something happened at the eleventh hour--I think it was chiefly the Admiralty report of the fight off the Falkland Islands--that blew his obituary notices clean out of the papers. And yet he was one of our most popular writers, and in America I am told he was in the "hundred thousand class." But now we think only of Lord Kitchener's hundred thousands. It is no good pretending about it. The war has ended all that. Boon died with his age. After the war there will be a new sort of book-trade and a crop of new writers and a fresh tone, and everything will be different. This is an obituary, of more than George Boon.... I regard the outlook with profound dismay. I try to keep my mind off it by drilling with the Shrewsbury last line of volunteers and training down the excrescences of my physical style. When the war is over will be time enough to consider the prospects of a superannuated man of letters. We National Volunteers are now no mere soldiers on paper; we have fairly washable badges by way of uniform; we have bought ourselves dummy rifles; we have persuaded the War Office to give us a reluctant recognition on the distinct understanding that we have neither officers nor authority. In the event of an invasion, I understand, we are to mobilize and ... do quite a number of useful things. But until there is an invasion in actual progress, nothing is to be decided more precisely than what this whiff of printer's shrapnel, these four full stops, conveys.... § 2