New-York tribune., 1875-01-25
BOSTON LITERARY NOTES.

"A RAMBIdNG STORY" MRS. MARY CowDEN
CLARKE,
lFRoM THE REGULAR CORRESPONDENT OF TUE rRtBuNE'I
BosroN, Jan. 21.-A curious, quaint BOOK,
with thoroughly oldsshioned flavor Is "A kampng
Story" by Mrs Mary Cowden Clarke tRobers Brothersl
Mrs Clarke is now the dearest aud sweetest OF Oid
ladies' The fire and Of her youth are burned out
but her tenderness love Of beauty remain. "A Ram
bling Story Is well named the book is just what that
title expresses 1t is such tale as placid Old ladV
might DC expected tell Tie passions 10 portrays are
the ghosts Of passions, seen through mellow atmos
phere OF time and distance. The style IS strlkihe
illustration OF the difference tween the old school OF
fiction and the new. What lover OF to-day would fan to
musinr his sweetheart whom he loves but hardly
hopes 10 win, in such long words as tbcsei
Bright above all shOne the rapturous conviction that
dwet her memory that she had recognized me that
through all tins intervening period she had retained
sufficient recollection OF nv yWce and OF the incidents
of our meeting 20 enable her TO identity me beneath my
disguise aud my mask TO know even this much aittr
ell my late despairing misery seemed sur
ness but when coupled IL with her voluntary accept
ance OF my projection WIN ner SPONTANEOUS 1td
and with her cordial manner ioWaId ne Wa CIeu @
into proud happiness Again iet that trlistu cnnt,
ing upon my arm asaln iiheard those soi-oita,neu ,
meDt; again 1 felt that earncst w0manly
how Willingly she owed assistance and safety 10
me- And tLen came the passionate thought-lI She DE
1G&s pne toward Sno WHOM she knows merely
AS man who had the good fortune 10 renIcr
of that nature in a sun dearer sentiment bot too
well knew. anc,-oh bitterness knew that IT had not
hour fierce insane fury OF hate aud envy RACED IN my
heart as thought OF Maurice Darwin Du as the m0in
ing hours advanced, ahd tue calm hight OF heaNeiy
dawn broke upon my fevercd implteDce, schooled II
iuto more temperate, more rational, more manly
grudge chance wLica had, unsongbL aud hil dn
con nscousy beaen HIM, and what title bad TO feel
injured by preference which, even had u not been
bestowed upon hm. might never, IN all PROBABILITY,
have been yielded 10 me; endeayored to reason my
hal
10 sucn snare OF her eseem aud liking "a,
Sue bounteously allowed M, aud l resolved lhat
would seduousiy endeaVOr to reuder myself more "or
thy Of IT, well dc Try aDd secure II by all means III NY
power.
You do wonder that this youth has mot been able
to quit the magic sphere Of Venice" He Is dreamer,
and he belongs in o dream His lovemaking is like tho
days of black lace mittens and ninuets lie tells his
tale of devotion and she receives it with an euchant
ing mOdesty Of candor," and answers with smiling
bushes. The hero, thus encouraged, grows bold.
The expression OF her eyes, raised half arehy. half
timidly mine, exquisite poined meaning 10 nor
words and folded my about her waist, as she sat
sppechess thanks. She leaned toward me as knet
letting white arms rest upon my shoulder and in-
cnIng her gentle lead. approached my forehead with
her lips; but drew them 10 nIne, and loves own YER
mOu seal was set upon our mute exchange OF plgbte0
trOtD.
Nor are the and the phrases alone Of the old
time The characters such used 10 walk about In
the novels OF long The stern father s absent but
in his stead have the stern uncle setting watch
upon his beautiful niece tne la0y Ol lsn deRTec ue-
termned that she shall marry only according 10 her
rank have the artist lover the loertne lord, who
bound to carry of the lady. whether she Will
tue friend, who is a clergyman Of the Church Uf En-
gland and who turns up at precisely the right moments
the italian bandits the faithful servants II is as If
Mrs Clarke had blown sort OF Gabreps trump in
old churchyard OF fiction, and the buried heroes and
herOines had arisen for one more promenade IN the
light OF the Aud yet with all its quannoss the
hon haaa a ID ad 1 IL ia
cause the gentle writer is old. She lives in certain
twilight land OF memory where all voices low and
faint they from far, and all faces look out
through soft yailug mist. Lon.