A winding road from the top of the old-fashioned High Street of Hastings leads to High Wickham, where, on an elevation of some hundred feet above the level of the main road on the East Hill stands a cottage, which is the abode of a learned and accomplished author, Miss Betham-Edwards. The quaint little "Villa Julia," as she has named it after a friend, is the first of a terrace of picturesque and irregularly-built houses. A tortuous path winds up the steep ascent, and on reaching the summit, one of the finest views in Southern England is obtained. The vast panorama embraces sea, woodland, streets, and roads, the umbrageous Old London coach-road, above, the grassy slopes reaching to the West and Castle hills. Far beyond may be seen the crumbling ruins of the Conqueror's stronghold (alas! this historic spot is now defaced by an odiously vulgar and disfiguring "lift!"), and further still, the noble headland of Beachy Head and broad expanse of sea, on which the rays of sunshine glitter brightly. Between the East and West hills, a green environment, lies nestled the town, with its fine old churches of All Saints' and St. Clement's. On a clear day, such as the present, The interior of the Villa Julia is in thorough keeping with the exterior. The little study which commands this glorious view is upstairs. It is a charming room, simplicity itself, yet gives evidence of taste and culture. There is nothing here to offend the eye, and no suggestion of the art-decorator, but it is all just an expression of its occupant's taste and character. "I have a fancy," says Miss Betham-Edwards, "to have different shades of gold-colour running through everything. It is an effective background for the pictures and pottery"; accordingly, the handsome Morocco carpet, bought by herself in the Bazaar at Algiers, is of warm hue. The furniture and wall-paper have the prevailing delicate tints; an arched recess on each side of the fireplace displays lovely specimens of brilliant pottery from Athens and Constantinople, with many shelves below, filled with volumes in various foreign languages. On the mantelshelf stand statuettes of Goethe and Schiller, remembrances of Weimar; the walls are hung with water-colour sketches by Mdme. Bodichen and From the window just below on the left can be seen the house of one of Miss Betham-Edwards's confrÈres, Mr. Coventry Patmore, the poet. A little further on is the picturesque villa which Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell (the first woman doctor) inhabits. "As remarkable and good a woman as ever lived," she adds. "I do not go much into society, for I find the winter is the best time for writing. I lead a completely retired literary life, but I have a few kindred spirits around me, and I occasionally hold little receptions when we all meet." In person Miss Betham-Edwards is about the Matilda Barbara Betham-Edwards is a countrywoman of Crabbe, R. Bloomfield, Constable, Gainsborough, and Arthur Young. She was born at Westerfield, Suffolk, and in the fine old Elizabethan Manor House of Westerfield, Ipswich, her childhood and girlhood were spent. There was literature in her family on the maternal side, three Bethams having honourably distinguished themselves, viz., her grandfather, the Rev. W. Betham, the compiler of the "Genealogical Tables of the Sovereigns of the World"; her uncle, Sir W. Betham, Ulster King of Arms, the learned and ingenious author of "Etruria Celtica," "The Gael and the Cymri," etc.; and lastly, her aunt and godmother, Matilda Betham, the author of "A Biographical Dictionary of Celebrated Women," and other works, and the intimate friend of Charles and Mary Lamb, Southey, and Coleridge. From the paternal side Miss Betham-Edwards inherited whatever mother-wit and humour she displays; her father, for whose memory she entertains the deepest affection, was like Arthur Young, an agriculturist, and possessed a genuine vein of native humour. Left motherless at a very early age, she may be called self-educated, her teachers being plenty of the best books, and with her first story-book arose the desire and fixed intention to become herself a story-teller. In these early days among the cowslip meadows and bean fields of Westerfield, books were the young girl's constant companions, although she had the happiness of having brothers and sisters. By the time she was twelve, she had read through Shakespeare, Walter Scott, "Don Quixote," "The Spectator," "The Arabian Nights," Johnson's "Lives of the Poets"; then, inter alia, Milton was an early favourite. As she grew up, the young student held aloof from the dances and other amusements of her sisters, writing, whilst yet in her teens, her first published romance, "The White House by the Sea," a little story which has had a long life, for it has lately been re-issued and numerous "picture-board" editions have appeared. Amongst new editions, cheaper and revised, are those of "Disarmed," "The Parting of the Ways," and "Pearls." By request, some penny stories will shortly appear from her pen. "John and I" and "Dr. Jacob" were the result of residences in Germany, the former giving a picture of South German life, and dates from this period, and the latter being founded on fact. "On arriving at Frankfort," says Miss Betham- "Kitty," which was first published in 1870 in three volumes, later on, in one volume, and which is, perhaps, the most popular of Miss Betham-Edwards's stories, belongs to this period. In Bishop Thirlwall's "Letters to a Friend" occurs the following from the A compliment the author valued hardly less came from a very different quarter. Messrs Moody and Sankey, the American revivalists, wrote to her, and asked if she could not write for their organ a story on the lines of "Kitty," but with a distinctly Evangelical bias. The request was regretfully refused. Each character in this original and delightful book is drawn to perfection and sustained to the end, which comes all too soon. The genuine novel-lover, indeed, feels somewhat cheated, for did not the author almost promise in the last page a sequel? A new edition has just been published. "Kitty" was followed by the "Sylvestres," which first ran through Good Words as a serial. Socialistic ideas were not so much in evidence then as now, and many subscribers to this excellent family journal gave it up, frightened by views which are at the present moment common property. No story, nevertheless, has brought Miss Betham-Edwards more flattering testimony than this; especially grateful letters from working men pleased a writer whose own views, political, social, and theological, have ever been with the party of progress. The books already mentioned are, without doubt, her most important novels, though some simple domestic stories, "Bridget" for instance, "Lisabee's Love Story," "The Wild Flower of Ravenswood," "Felicia," and "Brother Gabriel," are generally liked; whilst in America several later works, "Disarmed," and particularly the two German Idylls, "Exchange no Robbery" and "Love and Mirage" In 1891 Miss Betham-Edwards received a signal honour at the hands of the French Government, viz., the last dignity of "Officier de l'Instruction Publique de France." She is the only English woman who enjoys this distinction, given as a recognition of her numerous studies of rural France. Her last and most important work in this field is in one volume, "France of To-day," written by request and published simultaneously in London, Leipzig, and New York. In fiction her most recent contributions are "The Romance of a French Parsonage" in two volumes, "Two Aunts and a Nephew" in one volume, and a collection of stories, entitled "A Dream of Millions." Of this the late lamented Amelia B. Edwards wrote to her cousin: "It is worthy of Balzac." Miss Betham-Edwards has devoted herself entirely to literature, and is an excellent linguist. "I have been again and again entreated," she says, "to take part in philanthropy, public work, to accept a place on the School Board, etc., but have stoutly resisted. A worthy following of literature implies nothing less than An early afternoon tea is served in the snug little dining-room below, in which stands a magnificent inlaid Spanish oak chest, occupying nearly the whole side of the wall. This is a treasure heirloom, and is dated 1626, the time of Charles I.'s accession to the throne. Two quaint old prints of Ipswich and Bury St. Edmunds are also old family relics. On the table is a German bowl from Ilmennau—Goethe's favourite resort—filled with lovely purple and white anemones, which have just arrived from Cannes, and in other little foreign vases are early primroses and violets, for Hastings has enjoyed a long continuance of bright sunshine and mild weather. Whilst at tea, the conversation turns on music, celebrated people whom your hostess has met, and many social subjects. Miss Betham-Edwards says, "Music has ever been one of my recreations, the piano being a friend, a necessity of existence, but, of course, a busy Miss Betham-Edwards is a first cousin of the late Miss Amelia Blandford Edwards, the distinguished Egyptologist, and author of "Barbara's History," etc. The author of "Kitty" is a Nonconformist, and holds advanced opinions. She is an ardent disciple of Herbert Spencer, a keen antagonist of vivisection, and has written on the subject, the only social topic, indeed, which ever occupies her pen. She divides her time between her cottage residence on the hills above Hastings and her beloved France, where she has as many dear friends as in England. Of her own works, the author's favourite characters are the humorous ones. The Rev. Dr. Bacchus in "Next of Kin," Anne Brindle in "Half-way," Polly Cornford in "Kitty" ("Where on earth," Lord Houghton asked her, "did you get the original of that delightful woman!"), and "I am always glad," remarks the author, "to hear of cheap editions. I should like to see good books brought out at a penny. I have had various publishers, and never quarrelled with any of them. I know Mr. George Bentley well. He is a man of great literary culture, and is always kindness itself to me. The late Mr. Blackett, too, was a great friend." Miss Betham-Edwards holds such decided and sensible views on one of the great questions of the day that they shall be given in her own words. "I consider," she says emphatically, "cremation to be an absolute duty towards those to come, and support it on hygienic and rationalistic grounds. Each individual should do his or her best to promote it." The conversation of this sympathetic and intellectual woman is so fascinating that you are loath to leave without hearing somewhat of her own principal reading. Expressing the wish to her, she smiles pleasantly, and says: "My favourite English novels are 'Villette' and 'The Scarlet Letter,' both perfect to my thinking, and consummate as stories and works of art. In German, my favourite novelist is Paul Heyse. George Sand I regard as the greatest novelist of the age. George Eliot's sombre realism repels me, whilst I fully admit her enormous power. 'Don Quixote' in Spanish, with some other favourite works, I read over and over again, Lessing's 'Nathan the Wise,' Schiller's 'Æsthetic Letters,' these, and some of Goethe's smaller works I re-read regularly every year; they are necessary mental pabulum. Spinoza is also a favourite, second only to Plato. Of contemporary writers, Spencer, Harrison, Morley, and Renan stand first in my opinion; whilst of the living novelists I can only say that I endeavour to appreciate all. For the stories of the late Mrs. Ewing I entertain the highest admiration; also I delight in the graceful author of 'The Atelier du Lys.' Tolstoi, Ibsen, Zola, and that school, I find repulsive in the extreme. Imaginative literature should, above all things, delight. With the sadness inherent in life should be mingled a hopeful note, a touch of poetry, a glimpse of the beautiful and of the ideal." Miss Betham-Edwards has one faithful and cherished companion, who always accompanies her in her walks, and who sits quietly beside her when she writes. This is a white Pomeranian dog, very intelligent and affectionate, who will certainly never be lost while he My name is Muff, Ere the train leaves there is a good hour to spare; so, taking leave of the gifted author, you employ the time in sauntering about the town, and first go to see the fine church of St. Mary Star-of-the-Sea, founded by Mr. Coventry Patmore; also some ancient buildings of quaint architecture, in which the notorious Titus Oates is said to have lived. The Albert Memorial is the most prominent object in the town, occupying a central position at the junction of six roads, and close by are the renowned Breach's oyster rooms, where the temptation to taste the Whitstable bivalve in the fresh white-tiled shop is not to be resisted; but whilst there the great clock on the Memorial warns you to be up and away. There is much food for meditation on the return journey to town; and on reflecting over all that Miss Betham-Edwards has learnt and achieved, the poet's lines involuntarily suggest themselves: "And still the wonder grew, |