last novel, The Landleaguers, which, as stated above, was unfinished

when he died. This book was a cause of anxiety to him. He could not

rid his mind of the fact that he had a story already in the course

of publication, but which he had not yet completed. In no other

case, except Framley Parsonage, did my father publish even the

first number of any novel before he had fully completed the whole

tale.

On the evening of the 3rd of November, 1882, he was seized with

paralysis on the right side, accompanied by loss of speech. His

mind had also failed, though at intervals his thoughts would return

to him. After the first three weeks these lucid intervals became

rarer, but it was always very difficult to tell how far his mind

was sound or how far astray. He died on the evening of the 6th of

December following, nearly five weeks from the night of his attack.

I have been led to say these few words, not at all from a desire

to supplement my father's biography of himself, but to mention the

main incidents in his life after he had finished his own record. In

what I have here said I do not think I have exceeded his instructions.

Henry M. Trollope.

September, 1883.

CHAPTER I My education 1815-1834

In writing these pages, which, for the want of a better name, I shall

be fain to call the autobiography of so insignificant a person as

myself, it will not be so much my intention to speak of the little

details of my private life, as of what I, and perhaps others round

me, have done in literature; of my failures and successes such as

they have been, and their causes; and of the opening which a literary

career offers to men and women for the earning of their bread. And