s. The
narrowness, geographically speaking, of Hardy's range of expression is
notable. There is much contrast between him and Stevenson in this
respect. The Scotchman has embodied in his fine books the experiences
of life in a dozen different quarters of the globe. Hardy, with more
robust health, has traveled from Portland to Bath, and from
'Wintoncester' to 'Exonbury,'--journeys hardly more serious than from
the blue bed to the brown. And it is better thus. No reader of _The
Return of the Native_ would have been content that Eustacia Vye should
persuade her husband back to Paris. Rather than the boulevards one
prefers Egdon heath, as Hardy paints it, 'the great inviolate place,'
the 'untamable Ishmaelitish thing' which its arch-enemy, Civilization,
could not subdue.

He is without question one of the best writers of our time, whether
for comedy or for tragedy; and for extravaganza, too, as witness his
lively farce called _The Hand of Ethelberta_. He can write dialogue or
description. He is so excellent in either that either, as you read it,
appears to make for your highest pleasure. If his characters talk, you
would gladly have them talk to the end of the book. If he, the author,
speaks, you would not wish to interrupt. More than most skillful
writers, he preserves that just balance between narrative and
colloquy.

His best novels prior to the appearance of _Tess_, are _The
Woodlanders_, _Far from the Madding Crowd_, _The Return of the
Native_, and _The Mayor of Casterbridge_. These four are the bulwarks
of his reputation, while a separate and great fame might be based
alone on that powerful tragedy called by its author _Tess of the
D'Urbervilles_.

Criticism which glorifies any one book of a given author at the
expense of all his other books is profitless, if not dangerous.
Moreover, it is dangerous to have a favorite author as well as a
favorite book of that favorite author. A man's choice of books, like
his choice of friends, is usually inexplicable to everybody but
himself. However, the chief object in recommending books is to make
converts to the gospel of literature according to the writer of these
books. For which legitimate purpose I would recommend to the reader
who has hitherto denied himself the pleasure of an acquaintance with
Thomas Hardy, the two volumes known as _The Woodlanders_ and _The
Return of the Native_. The first of these is the more genial because
it presents a more genial side of Nature. B