693-62 COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS TROW DIRECTORY : There shall be no excuses, nor any defensive explanations and I shall only give here such forecast of this little book as may serve as a reminder, and appetizer, for the kindly acquaintances I meet once more; and further serve as an illustrative menu, for the benefit of those newer and more critical friends who browse tentatively at the tables of the booksellers. This volume-the fourth in its series of English Lands and Letters- opens upon that always delightful country of hills and waters, which is known as the Lake District of England; -where we found Wordsworth, stalking over the fells and where we now find the maker of those heavy poems of Thalaba and Madoc, and of the charming little biography of Nelson. There, too, we find that strange creature, De Quincey, full of a tumult of thoughts and language-out of which comes ever and anon some penetrating utterance, whose barb of words fixes it in the mind, and makes it rankle. Professor Wilson is his fellow, among the hills by Elleray-as strenuous, and weightier with his great bulk of Scottish manhood; the Isle of Palms is forgotten; but not "Christopher in his Shooting Jacket ” — stained, and bespattered with Highland libations. A Londoner we encounter - Crabb Robinson, full of gossip and conventionalities; and also that cautious, yet sometimes impassioned Scottish bard who sang of Hohenlinden, and of Gertrude of Wyoming. Next, we have asked readers to share our regalement, in wandering along the Tweed banks, and in rekindling the memories of the verse, the home, and the chivalric stories of the benign master of Abbotsford, for whom - whatever newer literary fashions may now claim allegiance and whatever historic quid-nuncs may say in derogation I think there are great multitudes |