The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-01-21

reader finds LiIle -NeN and Paul | Dombeg more wearisome than heart rending, and refuses to pay tribute oi early death; yet nothing could be more beautiful and touching than the history of DGrd Coppe9TelFs carly recollections. With what a fine hand the author has caught those first, blurred memories, "coming out of the cloud" faint and far back as the mind eau grope. He shows us the cottage, where the latticed windows stand open to let in the sweet smell ing air, and the ragged rocks nests are swinging from the tree tops,-Peq- gOtty's tidy kitchen,-and the back yard, with the great, empty dog ken- mel, and the "terribly tall' fowls stalking about. Equally well drawn is Little Em9y,-whether she prattles to Dard of the gorgeous raiment in which she would attire Uncle Dan if she were "a lady," or whether, at close of day, she and her play mate sit side by side on the old locker, like two young mavishcs." George Eliot brings all the charm of her genius to the story of Tom and -Mrg9te Taiitter, al Dorlcote Mill, and their happy hours by the quiet waterways of the Floss, We read. with pang of pity of the little gypsy, with her hatred of patch work, and her love of "the open her impetuous nature, passionately re- sponsive to tenderness or cruelty and her deep, abiding affection tor the brother from whom. in death, she was mot divided" We feel that the author speaks from her heart when she says elsewhere:
 And were another childhood's world my share
 would be born a httle sister there."-
 1 is but variation of the same theme.
 Thackcray but seldom inyades the domains of juveniity. Even in her childhood the brilliant Beattir has nothing that is infantine in her proud willful nature; but possesses, rather all the wiles of mature coquette 1 The boy hood of the young "Nirgin- ians" is admirably though slightly sketched and ill "The Newcomes. only passing glimpse of Roy i, vouchsafed Us now and then. He cries perhaps, when the fierce campaigner will not give him his cap, SD that ht may go out with papa; or he kneel' by his small bed to sly his prayers while the old colonel, bowed and broken, sits beside him. Yet with these few nasty strokes, the figure oi : the fair haired child stands out Viv- 1 idly before us, as he rides on his fathers shoulder, or asks, "in the best 1 little words he can muster" why grandpapa wears black coat.
 But more real, in certain sense than any of these do we find Charles Lambs "Dream Children" "For the children of Alice call B0rtrom father l We are but dreams and the children of dreams" the plaintive sentences re- echo through the memory. It is ar appeal to experiences held in common by all imaginative people, and Vt may fill in the shadowy outlines a, we please. What dreamer is ther, who has not sat and unused. at "tht blurred close of the winter day while the fire filled the silence with it's chorus of little singing voices? All the rosy hopes that he has tathered the poems that he would have written the pictures he would have painted 1 the great deeds with which he would have wrested recognition from the world, they rise and gather round him, crying, "Parent. we are here. , The brave days are re-created he i. no longer the man who has fallen short of his ideals, pitiful and shrunk of stature when measured by the as- pirations of youth. The fire croons to itself as it falls asleep among tn, ashes. But, suddenly, there are voices and footsteps "a blaze of cheerful p-light.--and the world of alitic' returns. The phantoms troop away and the dreamer is once more poor and old-once more childless.