hades without scath or scar to his invulnerable self.
Ivanhoe got out of some very awkward scrapes by the exertion of a
prowess quite exceptional in such a 'light-weight.' The extravagance is
not glaring enough to discompose us. Surely a tolerable proximate
approach to possible existence ought to satisfy a not viciously captious
critic. We are reading of shadowy beings: why should not the facile
mists be permeated with a somewhat subtler light, and melt into somewhat
airier forms of perfection than we have been accustomed to catch
imprisoned in the substantial dulness of the flesh? If we will only
choose, we may revel in the company of somewhat glorified mortals. It
may be a luxury to us, if we will not be jealously illiberal and
envious. It is pleasant to emerge from our little chintz-furnished
parlor, and lounge in castles of dimly magnificent extent, where we are
sure to meet the choicest society; where some order their mighty hunters
from the capacious stables, and others go out to drop a stag, or run a
fox, or bag a few pheasants in the preserves, just to get an appetite
for dinner, from which stupendous meal, tended by hosts of velvet-footed
menials and florid old-family butlers, resplendent ladies rise to retire
to gorgeous drawing rooms of any draperied dimensions we may choose to
fancy, leaving perhaps a score of gentlemen guests to quaff cobwebbed
wines in unstinted goblets. Why isn't it pleasant to linger sometimes in
these royal abodes, and to saunter in the endless lawns and forest
glades of the rich and the great, where we may encounter ladies rather
handsomer and gentlemen rather haughtier than they are generally made in
our own circle? Let us not be captious, but agreeably appreciative.

In a short sentence in one of the opening chapters of 'Sword and Gown,'
our author proclaims probably the intention, certainly the result of his
literary labors--to produce a string of beautiful cameos, with just
thread enough of story to string them upon. This task is done, and well
done. The classical allusions are numerous, and seldom can we blame one
as out of place. Generally they are wrought into beautiful little
pictures, complete in themselves. He manages them with wonderful
dexterity, never making too much of them, nor dwelling upon them too
long; but with his masterly skill in language he handles his words as a
painter his colors, and now we have a bold royal sketch, cloudy outlines
of gigantic proportions, sha