Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1891-05-13

Iaroed the yision of cat creeping upon
SPARROW sjpping tho water OF Q brook, sue
was a genius TO see such sights with ner
minds eye alone.
CURIOUS LAPsus.
In "yirrinia of Virginia. so full Of the
sceuerv of the Old Dominion. another
curious lapsus is made. As a setting Tor
the despair of Virginia Herrick LETT alone
is given this picture; Tho evening WS
lowering and purple toward the noftneass'
full of vague shadows and voices on nonio-
ward creatures. The west was agiare -
with floating golden ribbons from some
mighty. unseen Msy-pole behind the
luridly dark mountains. The slanting
light fouched the crests of the clods IN =
newly. ploughed Geld to her left with Q vivid
effect, remindful OF the light-cappeo wave
lets on, an evening bay. Farther on IL was
long. plistening stalks Of fodder, when
caught the level cleaning from TIE west,
as might the rifles of regiment tnat mas
been ordered TO fire. lying down. mi ,ps
fresh green hollows OF the hills were fuii
~ the palpable golden ether, like cups
of emerald brimmed with the, lucent
amber drink of other days. A leather
winged bat brushed against her cheek,
flying heavily into some broom-straw
inst beyond" The next sentence
might be expected 90 contain the
idea that all these minute were
intensified in their effect ana m
dellibly stamped upon Virginias miha,
oyerwrought with anguish. IL Is
1nring periods of greatest mental suffering
that the small impressions OF our sur
roundings are most magnifed. but VIZ
ginia, the only audience and the only VIII;
ness "saw nothing, felt nothing, heard
nothing beyond the dark hours ahead OF
her. the heavy aching Of her heart, and IT'S
loud. monotonous beating" Who was the
AUDIENCE who the witness? The same
person who was better able than virginia
TO draw the SMILES OF the wayelets ana OF
the cleaning bsyonets, and VINO IN ner
fond desire to pay due tribute TO her Ia
vorite and fayoring goddess Nature, I'M
consciously slipped into the apathetle
Virginia's place, Just az she bad borrowed
the horses, individuals, and dogs OF her
neighborhood to add to her descriptive
work in the early stages of the story.
PICTURE OF MIST.
She could not help describing natural
beauties. Here Is picture OF the mist
hugging the mountains: " 1t was drlzZling
q thick, Scotch drizzle, abetted by lusty
east wind. Even the branches OF the
straoollng locust trees that lined the red
road seemed clogged with it. 1t hung In
folds upon the side of the mountains, and
was blown in masses between tho clefts OF
rolling meadows" Her description OF
Virginia winter weather is complete, and
she does not forget the unreasonable
thunderstorm. 1T was a perfect day
perfect as only day in southern
wintertide can be. The ar, was
radiant, wine-like, while, with
still further suggestiveness, little giltter-
ING insects spun around and around IN the
II 10 ha ,,orftnlal nf cold leaf IN
eue-de-vie de Dantzic. The roads, dried
in some sort by the steady wind of the
past night and morning, were melloweu
to q dull rouge in lieu of the former start
ling crimson. Infinite tones OF faded
browns and grays wrapped void and hill
side. The sky, of an intense metallic pal:
lor, was covered with gauZe-like masses OF
wind-torn cirri. As they went on a syca-
more thrust its honey white arms before q
dark hollow in the mountain side, remind
ing one of a skeleton guarding the mouth
of a cavern where during its life it had
concealed some treasure. The harsh call
of crows, beginning in the far east,
passed in crescendo above their heads and
died away as the heavy birds flew west
ward"
TOUCHES OF NATURE.
A careful study of her works of fiction
will show to the unpreiudlced that Annette
Rives' ambition was TO reach that point
explained in Ilya's tribute TO the writings
of Nadrovine, You have so many touches
of nature; that is what makes your books
famous, suppose" There was hope that
Ameie Rives was to become fixed star
amid the brilliant galaxy of the South.
Her only reason for writing at all, per-
haps, WAS the fact that from her paternal
grandfather and grandmother she had in
herited the passion 10 write. No one
wishes to write any fiction but what IS eX-
pected 10 be enduring, unless some poor
devil is dependent for his daily bread upon
the scant returns he may have for hours
of bitter, grinding toll with his pen.
Although poverty of pocket may have
resulted in wealth of literary production
| in some instances it seems natural that one
who writes because he must write and not
| because he must make q living should pro-
| duce the best results. Favored by fortune,
by surroundings, and by ability, inherited
and developed, Amelie Rives was appa-
rently destined TO be a famous novelist.
| But the first story which she published
after she became Mrs. Chanler is decidedly
| more interior in its effects than any
that had preceded it. In Was 1t a
| Crime ?" there is little of the out-of-doors
| element. Once or twice the. hooking
birds melody is heard in the early morning
moonlight, one Whit is had of winter
| woods, chill and understanding, but
through the whole appears the spirit OF
protest Am6lie Rives Of old seems to
have been crushed indoors, and she re-
minds one of the single white byaclnths
| in Stephen Drew's study, which she de-
scribes as packed tightly in an old Yene-
tan glass while their perfumes, mingled
with the smell of sculptor's clay, was
| almost oyerpowering.
This story seemed TO mean "Vale Amelie
| Rives. the author. Salve Amelie Rives.
Chanler the artist" But the message
comes across the Atlantic that Mrs. Chan
Ter has not relinquished fiction. This is
gratifying to her friends. who at the same
| time hope that the real blooms of her
| imagery may not be too luxur1ant OF
Yentional.