Mr. Morrison has been fortunate in his literary experience. He is another witness to the fact that merit makes its way from the outside, without necessarily receiving aid or having influence brought to bear on editors or publishers. It is curious to note that a manuscript of his which happened to be rejected once was accepted on the day following, and now has a place in this book. Some cycling verses contributed as a lad to a cycling magazine began his literary career, and for some years he continued to write on what was then a novel sport. He drifted into broader channels and became a frequent contributor to popular papers and magazines. During this period he was working on the Charity Commission, and wrote only by way of relaxation. About five years ago he resigned his office on the Trust, and, occupying chambers near the Strand, joined the editorial staff of an old-established evening paper, where for some months he continued to write leaderettes and miscellaneous articles and notes until, becoming convinced that he could not do justice to such ability for better work which he might possess amidst the grinding routine of newspaper scribbling, he gave up his post and applied himself to more serious writing, contributing to the "Strand," and other magazines and reviews. About this time he began the series which is now gathered under the common title "Tales of Mean Streets." On its recent publication in England it was received with instant recognition as a book of extraordinary merit, and it has met with signal success. Some idea of the strong impression which it has made in England may be gathered from Mr. Arthur Waugh's warm tribute to the author's distinction in a recent letter to the "Critic." "He deals exclusively," writes Mr. Waugh, "with life in the East End of London, and he does so with a fearlessness and originality which are of more value than many sermons. I do not know whether his book is published in America; but if so, I strongly advise every reader of this letter to secure it. Those who do so will learn from its pages more of the degradation and misery of a certain side of London life than they could in many weeks of philanthropic 'slumming.' Mr. Morrison's will be a name to conjure with in another season." Mr. Arthur Morrison is but thirty-one, and has just stepped on to the threshold of literary fame as a writer of decided promise and strength. He has only broken ground as yet in the field which has brought him his spurs, and is at present contemplating a longer story of East End life. The number of those who have attempted to write familiarly of the seamy side of our great cities from close observation and laborious study of its life in a first-hand fashion is so small that it is easy to believe that the author of "Tales of Mean Streets," possessing as he does the prime qualities of a novelist, has a future before him in an unprecedented form of literature. JAMES MACARTHUR. NEW YORK, March 2, 1895. INTRODUCTION.