enuine Dickens lover,--recalling, as each name would, so much of vivid
portrayal, and starting so many associations in the mind. But there is
no need to repeat the names; the big, dull old world long ago learned
them by heart. Nor will they soon be relegated to the shades. While the
tide of English speech flows on, they will linger, component parts of
the language itself.

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GEORGE ELIOT.

While the great woman who wrote under the _nom de plume_ of George Eliot
was alive, there was much appreciative interest and much unlawful
curiosity felt regarding her private life. This as a matter of course.
No such striking personality as hers could project itself into a time of
dulness and mediocrity without exciting unusual interest and attention.
And the half-knowledge which had been gained of her life and character
served as an active stimulus to this curiosity. One or two leading facts
in her history had become known and had been made the most of by a
gossip-loving time; but aside from these isolated facts there was very
little known of George Eliot, except by a little close circle of
personal friends, who seem to have refrained in a remarkable manner from
writing of her in the newspapers. That modern and almost purely American
institution, the interviewer, allowed her to escape, and even up to the
time of her death comparatively little was said of her except as a
writer of books. But the interest in her as a woman has been deepening
constantly since her death, fed by some half-revelations which have been
made; and few books of our own time have been so eagerly anticipated and
so universally sought after as the biography by her husband, which
lately appeared. Here at last we have that wonderful woman painted by
her own hand; not in an autobiography, where a person poses for the
public, but in the private letters and journals of a lifetime. Like
Mrs. Carlyle, she had unconsciously drawn her own portrait from day to
day. An admiring world looks upon the work, and with one voice must
pronounce it well done. For it is easy to gather from these unconscious
touches everything of real importance in regard to the character and
life of this woman. Much as we should have enjoyed the letters and
journals in a complete form, untouched by pruning fingers, we cannot but
heartily approve the wisdom of Mr. Cross in carefully selecting and
editing them. He has shown himself a person of excellent taste