as read by Herder some four years after the
publication in England, not only declared it at the time to be one of
the best novels ever written, but again and again throughout his life
reverted to the charm and delight with which he had made the
acquaintance of the English "prose-idyll," and took it for granted
that it was a real picture of English life. Despite all the machinery
of Mr. Jenkinson's schemes, who could doubt it? Again and again there
are recurrent strokes of such vividness and naturalness that we yield
altogether to the necromancer. Look at this perfect picture--of human
emotion and outside nature--put in in a few sentences. The old
clergyman, after being in search of his daughter, has found her, and
is now--having left her in an inn--returning to his family and his
home. "And now my heart caught new sensations of pleasure, the nearer
I approached that peaceful mansion. As a bird that had been frighted
from its nest, my affections outwent my haste, and hovered round my
little fireside with all the rapture of expectation. I called up the
many fond things I had to say, and anticipated the welcome I was to
receive. I already felt my wife's tender embrace, and smiled at the
joy of my little ones. As I walked but slowly, the night waned apace.
The labourers of the day were all retired to rest; the lights were
out in every cottage; no sounds were heard but of the shrilling cock,
and the deep-mouthed watch-dog at hollow distance. I approached my
little abode of pleasure, and, before I was within a furlong of the
place, our honest mastiff came running to welcome me." "_The
deep-mouthed watch-dog at hollow distance_;"--what more perfect
description of the stillness of night was ever given?

And then there are other qualities in this delightful _Vicar of
Wakefield_ than merely idyllic tenderness, and pathos, and sly humour.
There is a firm presentation of the crimes and brutalities of the
world. The pure light that shines within that domestic circle is all
the brighter because of the black outer ring that is here and there
indicated rather than described. How could we appreciate all the
simplicities of the good man's household, but for the rogueries with
which they are brought in contact? And although we laugh at Moses and
his gross of green spectacles, and the manner in which the Vicar's
wife and daughter are imposed on by Miss Wilhelmina Skeggs and Lady
Blarney, with their lords and ladies and their tributes to vi