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But the years alluded to were amongst the busiest of a busy life, when I was ‘coining my brains for drachmas,’ or their equivalent in British currency, and had no time for the dreamland of topographical speculation. The engagements, however, that hindered my design opened up many sources of material for future use; and as topography is always a literary mosaic, their diversity tended to enrichment.

Thus it came to pass that the first draft of my book was laid aside, but never forgotten, for more than thirty years, and has only recently been reverted to—a task that has been a delight, bringing back—though sometimes through a mist of tears—images of the past, with pleasant memories of sunny days that, looked at from the perspective of eighty-nine years, seem brighter even than sunshine is itself.

From such a pile of years I almost lose the author’s dread of the critic. Praise or blame are to me now much the same; but, being a woman, I still prefer the praise.

I cannot close these preliminary words without expressing my obligations to Mr. P. Forbes for the eight sketches he has permitted to be copied for the beautifying of the book; to Messrs. Oetzmann for some illustrations so kindly lent; to Mr. Baines, not only for a similar favour, but for help from his valuable ‘Records of Hampstead’; and to the proprietors of the Municipal Journal for the charming picture of the viaduct.