The Birmingham age-herald., 1909-03-28


 and striking stage effects that are used by the ultra-modern writers whose novels are almost plays in every thing except mere form. Middle march" is a book, and big book. It will not amuse the idle or half-as1eep reader It demands ones cooperation. It's importance and high place in 1it- erature are not due to literary art. They are due to the fact that 1t is one of the great "true bills" for and against humanity.
 It defies "skimming." It presents drowning front to the seeker for mere amusement. For the seeker after self culture and broad knowledge, 1t is one of the books that must be read.
 " HE Misses Brooke-Dorothea and
 celia-were of unquestionable
 ! family, without yard-measuring or pa.reel-tying forefathers. or any thing lower than an admiral or cler- gyman.
 They were orphans, and they lived at Tipton Grange, near the town Of Mid- dlemarch, with their uncle. MT. Brooke was nearly SO. He was~easy and amla- b1e. He had studied everything and had forborne from going too far into anything because one never knows where one will stop. His conclusions were as difficult to predict as the weather. He was full of benevolent intentions and spent as little money on them as possible.
 Dorothea, who was 20. was his very reverce. She was tremendous in her serious views of life. She weighed her smallest act, her lightest thought, on the awful scales of Judgment Day. She kneeled down on cottage floors by the side of sick laborers to pray with ferver that probably oppressed rather than impressed the objects of her piety. She loved horseback riding-and as soon as she discovered how much she loved it. she gave it up
 In word, Dorothea Brooke was made for a martyr. Her soul was fine and great enough to embrace that martyrdom in any form it might take when it came. Meantime, Dorothea was A prig-a very beautiful and a | very clever one. "A little too religious | for family comfort" thought her sister Celia, who loved her as every one loved her. despite the oppressive ethics that surrounded her. Celia was as pretty as Dorothea, but l she lacked the spirituality and mentall- tv that transhgured Dorothea's face. | She was not cut out for a martyr, and | had no intention of being one. Mid | dlemarch accounted her much more l sensible.
 Sir James Chettam wanted to mar ry Dorothea, or thought that he did. He did not get far beyond thinking or it. for he was too much afraid Of her to say anything, and wooed her mod estly and silently by making wonder ful improvements for his tenants and erecting model cottages. Dorothea was deeply interested in model cottages.
 Celia could not understand why her sister did not encourage Sir James in stead of his cottages. Celia had very good taste in men, though she knew little of life She liked the big, strong. c1ear-eyed fellow. with his simple no lions of honor and his simple ideas Sir James knew that his deeds would never set a river on fire; but even his ignorance had a sound quality. Dorothea, however, did not dream of marrying him. She dreamed of a husband with a wondrous mission. She would have married the blind John Mil ton and toiled for him. She thought of all the great characters whose odd habits had made them unpleasant to their kin, and wished that she might have been a real helpmate for one of them.
 It is dangerous work for young per- sons of limited experience to search for gods Dorothea's search ended by her discovery of the Reverend Edward casaubon. a rich minister with a large estate, who preached scholarly and dreardfully dull sermon every Sunday and left the rest of his work to a vicar.
 0Mr. Casaubon was noted as a man of profound learning, and he believed it as earnestly as everybody else did. But in truth he was a. profound humbug with himself as his saddest victim. Ills learn ing was crowded museum of facts, stored in an attic of brain that did not know what to do with the collection He delved in the dust of the past and brought nothing but dust out of 1t.
 He reconstructed no vanished life, no gorgeous scenes, no stirring story from the catacombs of buried wisdom in which he was so zealous a digger. He emerged triumphantly after months of labor with the mummied trophy of a hair-splitting definition or a new construction of some ancient thesis that a healthy world had forgotten with a healthy shudder long ago.
 To Dorothea, however, this literary dust man was the heroic character of whom she had dreamed His solemn, precise explanations of the iabyrinthine extent of his labyrinthine work, the Key to All Mythologies, captivated her. She saw in him new Augustine, uniting the glories of doctor and saint
 for 30 years, and though he was now 45 he had not written a line, but was still making notes. Dorothea thought with an awed catch at her heart: What a. glorious thing it would be to help in writ ing the beok!'
 It was with reverential gratitude that she accepted the gaunt, stiff, sad-colored mans proposal. She became Mrs. Casau- bon to the wild indignation of Celia, who thought him the uglest and most stupid man that ever lived, and to the concen- trated disgust of Sir James. who con- sidered him sort of mummy.
 Dorothea had her god and was willing to kiss his unfashionable shoes. If she