everything　beforehand；　and　smile　compassionately　or　scornfully　at
  the　artless　outcries　of　astonishment　of　those　who　are　uninformed；
  may　get　an　ill…natured　satisfaction　out　of　the　persuasion　that　they
  are　superior　beings；　but　there　is　very　little　meat　in　that　sort　of
  happiness；　and　the　uninformed　have　the　better　lot　after　all。
  I　need　hardly　point　out　that　there　is　a　distinction　and　a
  difference　between　short　riddle　stories　and　long　onesnovels。　　The
  former　require　far　more　technical　art　for　their　proper　development；
  the　enigma　cannot　be　posed　in　so　many　ways；　but　must　be　stated　once
  for　all；　there　cannot　be　false　scents；　or　but　a　few　of　them；　there
  can　be　small　opportunity　for　character　drawing；　and　all　kinds　of
  ornament　and　comment　must　be　reduced　to　their　very　lowest　terms。
  Here；　indeed；　as　everywhere；　genius　will　have　its　way；　and　while　a
  merely　talented　writer　would　deem　it　impossible　to　tell　the　story
  of　〃The　Gold　Bug〃　in　less　than　a　volume；　Poe　could　do　it　in　a　few
  thousand　words；　and　yet　appear　to　have　said　everything　worth
  saying。　　In　the　case　of　the　Sherlock　Holmes　tales；　they　form　a
  series；　and　our　previous　knowledge　of　the　hero　enables　the　writer
  to　dispense　with　much　description　and　accompaniment　that　would　be
  necessary　had　that　eminent　personage　been　presented　in　only　a
  single　complication　of　events。　　Each　special　episode　of　the　great
  analyst's　career　can　therefore　be　handled　with　the　utmost　economy；
  and　yet　fill　all　the　requirements　of　intelligent　interest　and
  comprehension。　　But；　as　a　rule；　the　riddle　novel　approaches　its
  theme　in　a　spirit　essentially　other　than　that　which　inspires　the
  short　tale。　　We　are　given；　as　it　were；　a　wide　landscape　instead　of
  a　detailed　genre　picture。　　The　number　of　the　dramatis　personae　is
  much　larger；　and　the　parts　given　to　many　of　them　may　be　very　small；
  though　each　should　have　his　or　her　necessary　function　in　the
  general　plan。　　It　is　much　easier　to　create　perplexity　on　these
  terms；　but　on　the　other　hand；　the　riddle　novel　demands　a　power　of
  vivid　character　portrayal　and　of　telling　description　which　are　not
  indispensable　in　the　briefer　narrative。　　A　famous　tale；　published
  perhaps　forty　years　ago；　but　which　cannot　be　included　in　our
  series；　tells　the　story　of　a　murder　the　secret　of　which　is
  admirably　concealed　till　the　last；　and　much　of　the　fascination　of
  the　book　is　due　to　the　ability　with　which　the　leading　character；
  and　some　of　the　subordinate　ones；　are　drawn。　　The　author　was　a
  woman；　and　I　have　often　marveled　that　women　so　seldom　attempt　this
  form　of　literature；　many　of　them　possess　a　good　constructive
  faculty；　and　their　love　of　detail　and　of　mystery　is　notorious。
  Perhaps　they　are　too　fond　of　sentiment；　and　sentiment　must　be
  handled　with　caution　in　riddle　stories。　　The　fault　of　all　riddle
  novels　is　that　they　inevitably　involve　two　kinds　of　interest；　and
  can　seldom　balance　these　so　perfectly　that　one　or　the　other　of　them
  shall　not　suffer。　　The　mind　of　the　reader　becomes　weary　in　its
  frequent　journeys　between　human　characters　on　one　side　the
  mysterious　events　on　the　other；　and　would　prefer　the　more　single…
  eyed　treatment　of　the　short　tale。　　Wonder；　too；　is　a　very　tender
  and　short…lived　emotion；　and　sometimes　perishes　after　a　few　pages。
  Curiosity　is　tougher；　but　that　too　may　be　baffled　too　long；　and　end
  by　tiring　of　the　pursuit　while　it　is　yet　in　its　early　stages。　　Many
  excellent　plots；　admirable　from　the　constructive　point　of　view；
  have　been　wasted　by　stringing　them　out　too　far；　the　reader
  recognizes　their　merit；　but　loses　his　enthusiasm　on　account　of　a
  sort　of　monotony　of　strain；　he　wickedly　turns　to　the　concluding
  chapter；　and　the　game　is　up。　　〃The　Woman　in　White；〃　by　Wilkie
  Collins；　was　published　about　1860；　I　think；　in　weekly　installments；
  and　certainly　they　were　devoured　with　insatiable　appetite　by　many
  thousands　of　readers。　　But　I　doubt　whether　a　book　of　similar　merit
  could　command　such　a　following　to…day；　and　I　will　even　confess　that
  I　have　myself　never　read　the　concluding　parts；　and　do　not　know　to
  this　day　who　the　woman　was　or　what　were　the　wrongs　from　which　she
  so　poignantly　suffered。
  The　tales　contained　in　the　volumes　herewith　offered　are　the　best
  riddle　or　detective　stories　in　the　world；　according　to　the　best
  judgment　of　the　editors。　　They　are　the　product　of　writers　of　all
  nations；　and　translation；　in　this　case；　is　less　apt　to　be
  misleading　than　with　most　other　forms　of　literature；　for　a　mystery
  or　a　riddle　is　equally　captivating　in　all　languages。　　Many　of　the
  good　onesperhaps　some　of　the　best　oneshave　been　left　out；
  either　because　we　missed　them　in　our　search；　or　because　we　had　to
  choose　between　them　and　others　seemingly　of　equal　excellence；　and
  were　obliged　to　consider　space　limitations　which；　however
  generously　laid　out；　must　have　some　end　at　last。　　Be　that　as　it
  may；　we　believe　that　there　are　enough　good　stories　here　to　satisfy
  the　most　Gargantuan　hunger；　and　we　feel　sure　that　our　volumes　will
  never　be　crowded　off　the　shelf　which　has　once　made　room　for　them。
  If　we　have；　now　and　then；　a　little　transcended　the　strict
  definition　of　the　class　of　fiction　which　our　title　would　promise；
  we　shall　nevertheless　not　anticipate　any　serious　quarrel　with　our
  readers；　if　there　be　room　to　question　the　right　of　any　given　story
  to　appear　in　this　company；　there　will　be　all　the　more　reason　for
  accepting　it　on　its　own　merits；　for　it　had　to　be　very　good　indeed
  in　order　to　overcome　its　technical　disqualification。　　And　if　it　did
  not　rightfully　belong　here；　there　would　probably　be　objections　as
  strong　to　admitting　it　in　any　other　collection。　　Between　two　or
  more　stools；　it　would　be　a　pity　to　let　it　fall　to　the　ground；　so
  let　it　be　forgiven；　and　please　us　with　whatever　gift　it　has。
  In　many　cases　where　copyrights　were　still　unexpired；　we　have　to
  express　our　acknowledgments　to　writers　and　publishers　who　have
  accorded　us　the　courtesy　of　their　leave　to　reproduce　what　their
  genius　or　enterprise　has　created　and　put　forth。　　To　our　readers　we
  take　pleasure　in　presenting　what　we　know　cannot　fail　to　give　them
  pleasurea　collection　of　the　fruits　of　the　finest　literary
  ingenuity　and　nicest　art　accessible　to　the　human　mind。　　Gaudeat；
  non　caveat　emptor！
  JULIAN　HAWTHORNE。
  American　Mystery　Stories
  F。　Marion　Crawford
  By　the　Waters　of　Paradise
  I
  I　remember　my　childhood　very　distinctly。　　I　do　not　think　that　the
  fact　argues　a　good　memory；　for　I　have　never　been　clever　at　learning
  words　by　heart；　in　prose　or　rhyme；　so　that　I　believe　my　remembrance
  of　events　depends　much　more　upon　the　events　themselves　than　upon　my
  possessing　any　special　facility　for　recalling　them。　　Perhaps　I　am
  too　imaginative；　and　the　earliest　impressions　I　received　were　of　a
  kind　to　stimulate　the　imagination　abnormally。　　A　long　series　of
  little　misfortunes；　so　connected　with　each　other　as　to　suggest　a
  sort　of　weird　fatality；　so　worked　upon　my　melancholy　temperament
  when　I　was　a　boy　that；　before　I　was　of　age；　I　sincerely　believed
  myself　to　be　under　a　curse；　and　not　only　myself；　but　my　whole
  family　and　every　individual　who　bore　my　name。
  I　was　born　in　the　old　place　where　my　father；　and　his　father；　and
  all　his　predecessors　had　been　born；　beyond　the　memory　of　man。　　It
  is　a　very　old　house；　and　the　greater　part　of　it　was　originally　a
  castle；　strongly　fortified；　and　surrounded　by　a　deep　moat　supplied
  with　abundant　water　from　the　hills　by　a　hidden　aqueduct。　　Many　of
  the　fortifications　have　been　destroyed；　and　the　moat　has　been
  filled　up。　　The　water　from　the　aqueduct　supplies　great　fountains；
  and　runs　down　into　huge　oblong　basins　in　the　terraced　gardens；　one
  below　the　other；　each　surrounded　by　a　broad　pavement　of　marble
  between　the　water　and　the　flower…beds。　　The　waste　surplus　finally
  escapes　through　an　artificial　grotto；　some　thirty　yards　long；　into
  a　stream；　flowing　down　through　the　park　to　the　meadows　beyond；　and
  thence　to　the　distant　river。　　The　buildings　were　extended　a　little
  and　greatly　altered　more　than　two　hundred　years　ago；　in　the　time　of
  Charles　II。；　but　since　then　little　has　been　done　to　improve　them；
  though　they　have　been　kept　in　fairly　good　repair；　according　to　our
  fortunes。
  In　the　gardens　there　are　terraces　and　huge　hedges　of　box　and
  evergreen；　some　of　which　used　to　be　clipped　into　shapes　of　animals；
  in　the　Italian　style。　　I　can　remember　when　I　was　a　lad　how　I　used
  to　try　to　make　out　what　the　trees　were　cut　to　represent；　and　how　I
  used　to　appeal　for　explanations　to　Judith；　my　Welsh　nurse。　　She
  dealt　in　a　strange　mythology　of　her　own；　and　peopled　the　gardens
  with　griffins；　dragons；　good　genii　and　bad；　and　filled　my　mind　with
  them　at　the　same　time。　　My　nursery　window　afforded　a　view　of　the
  great　fountains　at　the　head　of　the　upper　basin；　and　on　moonlight
  nights　the　Welshwoman　would　hold　me　up　to　the　glass　and　bid　me　look
  at　the　mist　and　spray　rising　into　mysterious　shapes；　moving