| | | The production of books for the young has long ago claimed and | obtained a distinct place in the field of authorship. It has been | for some time admitted that children have as much right as the | men of science, taste, or amusement, to create their own peculiar | demand, and obtain a corresponding supply in the literary | market. But a considerable change has taken place, or rather, is | still in progress, in this department, not only in the amount, | (where the most careless eye may detect it with no further | observation than the advertising columns of a newspaper will | supply,) but also, and even more, in the character of its stores; | for, while it has received great accessions, both in the number | and talent of its contributors, it has lost somewhat of its | distinctive features, somewhat of its original intention. The | writers of the books in which our own childhood delighted, Mrs. | Barbauld, Miss Edgeworth, and even Mrs. Hofland, wrote most | evidently for children, and for children only; now, on the | contrary, many books written professedly for children, are such | as | | will afford perhaps greater instruction and amusement to an elder | class of readers. "Harry and Lucy,' or 'the Parent's Assistant,' or | the 'Court of Oberon,' are not often the recreation of any more | advanced age than that for which they were originally designed, | but most of our readers will be able to recall modern 'children's | books,' which they have read with as much zest and enjoyment as | if they had appeared in the authorized shape of a three-volumed | novel. Nor is this mentioned as a necessary ground of complaint; | on the contrary, the book which pleases a more cultivated mind, | endowed with the fuller knowledge and more extended | experience which must be supposed to accompany advancing | years, is so far of a higher character than one which rests | contented with the approbation of a younger intellect; nor is it | necessary that one which pleases the former should be injurious | or ill-adapted to the latter. But though not necessary, | no-one will | deny that this result is possible, and even probable; and if it | require a skilful hand to collect and shape the materials so as to | suit the palate, and advance the health of any one class of persons | separately, far more careful must be the selection, and more | delicate the touch, of the author who aspires to write for several | at once; and though one would not wish to discourage the | attempt, it may not be useless to throw a strong light upon the | dangers incidental to it. Some of these will appear in a more | detailed survey of the books at present before us; some more | harmless instances, however, of the confusion of thought thus | induced, are suggested by a more cursory observation; for, as the | individual book is often adapted, and therefore we may venture | to say intended, for adult as well as younger readers, so the | general name appears to cover a wider range than its terms fairly | import. With most persons, the mere names, or at any rate the | exteriors of the books before us, would be enough to stamp them | at once with the name of 'children's books,' and yet there are | several among them which probably do not claim that title for | themselves. The 'Stories on the Lord's Prayer,' which is a | pleasing endeavour to bring out its petitions into a fuller | meaning, by connecting them with the events of a poor widow's | life, seems to be intended rather as a tract for the poor than a tale | for the young. And the object of the 'Stories of Cottagers' is, as | the writer himself tells us, to instruct the upper classes in the | condition of the poor, by an exhibition of the tragedies of real life | which occur among them, . Nor is the writer deceived | in his estimate of these 'Annals of the Poor;' several of these | | stories would excite a touching interest as fictions, and when | known to be truths, they awaken more serious reflections. 'The | Cottage in the Lane' is a sad, but well written account of the | misery occasioned by mere indolence and indecision of | character. Perhaps, the following extract from 'Annie's Grave,' | will give the best idea both of the principles and the style of the | book. The subject of it, Wilson, an unsteady and proud man, but | withal of quick and tender feelings, had been sobered by the | illness and death of a beloved daughter. | | | | | | We may now pass on to the books more avowedly destined for | children; and these are of three kinds ~~ the Imaginative, where | the scene is laid openly and professedly in an ideal world; or that | in which a moral lesson is conveyed through the incidents of | ordinary life, which may be called the Imitative; or lastly, the | Didactic, which aims solely, or principally, at the communication | of merely useful knowledge, sweetened up, to conciliate the | youthful palate, with what may be deemed a sufficient admixture | of the merely entertaining. As Captain Marryat's 'Mission' is the | only book on our list which properly belongs to this last class, we | will assign it the first place in our consideration. Here the useful | portion consists of a history of the Cape settlements, and some | stray propositions of natural science, while the entertaining is, we | suppose, to be sought for in the form of the narrative, and the | personal characters of the interlocutors; the anecdotes of animals, | which are by far the best part of the book, might be considered as | a neutral ground on which the opposing principles are allowed to | blend in amicable union, if it were not that the speaker | perpetually reminds us of his character of instructor, and warns | us that , by the apology with which he generally thinks | it necessary either to commence or to conclude his anecdotes; | and which serves as a continual notice to the readers, that, | however amusing they may find the tale, they are not to content | themselves with mere gratification, but are carefully to imbibe | the precious drops of valuable information which it contains. | The thread on which these pearls are strung, is the 'mission' of a | young man to Southern Africa, to ascertain whether his aunt | (who had been wrecked on the coast many years before, and | whom later | | travellers had reported to have become the property of a Caffre | chief) was either yet alive herself, or had left him any Griqua or | Amaquibi cousins. He finds, to his great joy, that she had | undoubtedly perished either in the shipwreck, or the disasters | that ensued; and having thus satisfactorily discharged his | mission, he makes a longer sweep through the interior, to | contemplate and shoot the wonders of that marvellous region. | The narrative itself if jejune and wearisome, and the | efforts to maintain a semblance of natural conversation and | individual character, ineffably tiresome, while there is an | unattractive clumsiness in the mode of appending occasional | scraps of religion, which betrays the character of an extraneous | decoration, rather than an integral part of the design; but some of | the anecdotes are new, and occasionally curious. The following | is an instance: ~~ | | | | The following story reminds us that we have to do with the | author of 'Peter Simple;' a solitary gleam of old recollections | seems now and then to have illumined the Captain's altered | occupation: ~~ | | | | | Before quitting this book, may we venture to ask, whether it is an | advisable thing to accustom 'young people' to look with | indifference on such wholesale slaughter of the brute creation as | these African shooting expeditions generally exhibit? 'The | Mission' certainly does not display this in its worst form. We are | glad to find that the carcase of the hippopotamus, or elephant, is | a real boon to the Hottentots, or half-starved Bushmen; and there | can be no doubt of their right to destroy | them for their own support. But when we read of , and | are informed, that , so that , we are compelled | to ask, whether such wanton havoc can be indifferent in His | sight, who remembered the animals in the ark, and regarded the | cattle of Nineveh? ~~ whether destruction, for the sake of mere | amusement, is not, in any form, a tyrannical abuse of that | dominion over the inferior creation, which was bestowed, by the | Divine assignment, upon man? | | We turn with pleasure to the more numerous class of books | before us, which we have styled the imitative, not only because | the scenes and events are such as may be supposed likely to | occur among the multiform appearances of actual life, but also | because the characters are composed of that fair intermixture of | good and evil, or rather are actuated by that alternation of | superior | | and ordinary motives, in which we recognise one of the most | obvious features of truth. Among these 'Amy Herbert' claims our | first attention, both as the most finished specimen of the kind, | and the most engaging and successful work. We have here a | conception of Christian childhood so pure and beautiful, that it | might seem a creature of another sky, ready to close up and | wither at the first cold breath of the common air, if the author | had not intermixed it so skilfully with plain duties of life, and | surrounded it with associations so simple and natural, that we | cannot entertain a doubt of its practical reality. Amy cannot have | a better introduction to our readers than the opening pages of her | history will afford: ~~ | | | | | | Emmerton Hall, a large house in the neighbourhood, whose dark | rooms, grim old portraits, and deserted chapel, have often | impressed Amy with feelings of awe and interest, is the property | of her uncle Harrington, to which he returns after along absence, | with his daughters, Dora, Margaret, and Rose; and the interest of | the book lies in Amy's intercourse with her two elder cousins, for | Rose is still a child. They are both older than herself; both, too, | very differently brought up; for Mrs. Harrington is described as a | woman of . Dora has a haughty and overbearing | temper, but deep and generous feelings, and the foundation of far | higher qualities in an uncompromising sincerity; while Margaret, | though more attractive at first sight by the apparent warmth of | her affections, is soon | | discovered to be better supplied with words than feelings, of which, | indeed, she scarcely possesses any beyond a selfish vanity. What | uncongenial elements they are for poor Amy to assimilate with, | will be seen from the following specimen of one of their earliest | conversations. It is the young ladies' first visit to Mrs. Herbert. | | | | | | We have not space to follow out the details of the story, nor | should we wish to make our extracts full enough to supply the | place of the book itself, to such of our readers as have not yet | perused it. We will, however, add, that the silent influence of | Amy's unconscious example gradually, but surely, works a great | and beneficial change in Dora's character, though Margaret's | levity and inanity are proof against every species of instruction, | direct or indirect. But we must not quit the book without | noticing one merit which this writer possesses above many of her | class: we mean in the portraiture of evil. Too often, besides the | necessary pain arising from the perception of the evil itself, we | are conscious of an additional feeling of disgust, called out by | the act of its description; as if evil were doubled or reproduced | by the fact of its being embodied forth in word. We involve the | writer in the guilt of his characters, and impute to himself, | however unjustly, some sympathy for the error he describes. Nor | will even the most carefully marked disapprobation avail to | shelter the unconscious fault. Whatever may be the metaphysical | explanation, whether it be that there is real coarseness in the | description, or that the writer enters too heartily into the | character, or betrays too lively an affection for the offspring of | his own mind, such as a parent may feel for an unworthy child, | we certainly do constantly, in reading of evil, feel more pain than | is due to the mere perception of its existence, and which, | therefore, we attribute to the manner in which it is treated. From | this fault the author of 'Amy Herbert' is free. Here bad and | foolish characters are by no means unreal, nor are we ever | inclined to condemn them less than we ought. The author is | always free from the indignation her characters excite. | | We are not sure that the same praise can be awarded to a book | which, nevertheless, possesses great merit as a good and spirited | production. In 'Abbeychurch,' we feel an unpleasant, jarring | sensation, while reading of the Hazelbies, wholly distinct from | the moral disapprobation which their conduct is intended to | excite. Nor are the lesser faults of the heroine herself, Elizabeth | Woodbourne, exempt from the same charge. Our readers may | remember to have experienced a similar feeling in the case of a | character not altogether dissimilar, and bearing the same name, | Elizabeth Bennet, in Miss Austin's 'Pride and Prejudice.' Both | | are hasty and rough, keenly sensible of meanness or insincerity, | and both ~~ though we would plead a nameless atoning grace in | extenuation of Miss Austin's heroine ~~ somewhat inclined to | despise the conventionalities of polite life; but here the parallel | ceases; for the characters are developed in two different spheres | of thought and action. Elizabeth Woodbourne is actuated by an | habitual reference to Christian principles, which Miss Austin did | not feel it her province to bring out in her works, so much as to | deal with character on the natural ground. Elizabeth | Woodbourne, with strong, deep feelings, which peculiarly | wanted guidance and control, had lost her mother very early, and | had grown up under a step-mother, who, though very amiable | and gentle, was yet destitute of that strength of character | requisite for the direction of a mind like Elizabeth's. The | following is a conversation between Elizabeth and her cousin, | and chosen friend, Anne Merton, a remarkably pleasing person, | who unites perfect gentleness with great firmness and decision: | ~~ | | | | | | Elizabeth is very clever, and so well versed in all sorts of | reading, as to have obtained within her own circle the somewhat | doubtful distinction of a learned young lady; but she is also the | managing person of the household. She teaches the younger | children at home; visits the schools, and reads to the poor abroad; | and, amid the multiplicity of her really useful occupations, it can | scarcely be wondered at, if she occasionally feels angrily, and | expresses sharply her impatience, at the more frivolous pursuits | of her sisters Helen and Kate, who afford her but little assistance | in the discharge of her varied duties. We must own ourselves, | however, to be occasionally pained by the sharpness of tone | permitted among the sisters; not an ordinary characteristic, we | are sure, of family conversation among us. Helen has but just | returned from a long visit among friends, who have made much | of her; and is, consequently, more sensitive than ever to her | sister's careless expressions and intentional sarcasms. We will | give some specimens of the book: ~~ | | | | | | Again | | | Anne, as may be seen from this last extract, had taken upon | herself the character of mediator between the sisters; and the | reader will be glad to learn that her efforts were rewarded with | tolerable success. There is, however, one character against | which we feel it our duty to enter a protest, as it is evidently | intended | | to occupy rather an amiable position in our estimation, though in | right of what qualities it is not easy to determine. Rupert Merton | is introduced to us very early, as a subject on which to exercise | our expectation. In the first chapter Anne is writing to him to | hasten his return, with a warning from his mother not to lose his | keys as usual; presently afterwards, our curiosity is excited by a | notice of his ' recherché air,' | and our knowledge of his character improved, by Helen's | reminiscences of his teasing propensities; and finally our interest | is raised to the highest point, by his non-appearance at the | expected moment. The only excuse he pleads, is the destruction | of his sister's letter, with the last page unread, ~~ a circumstance | which will also account for the inefficiency of his mother's | warning about the keys; and, from all that is recorded of him, we | can only discover that he is rather clever, (though even here his | cousin Elizabeth is his superior,) but very conceited withal, | thoughtless of others, and incapable of sacrificing the | opportunity of a witticism, either to his sister's entreaties, or his | own sense of rectitude. We do not mean to say that these faults | are unacknowledged, or greatly palliated, by the author; but the | character is evidently intended as a whole to conciliate our | good-will, rather than to excite our censure; and we have just cause | for complaint, if the impression produced by intellectual abilities, | as a counterpoise to grave moral defects, be favourable rather than | the reverse. Nor can we doubt that the author would agree with | us in this opinion; and we can only explain the circumstance on | the theory, that the writer, who evinces such thorough familiarity | with the thoughts and actions of the young ladies that figure in | her narrative, takes only an external view of the young | gentlemen; and regards them, as their sisters are somewhat apt to | do, as creatures who are to be petted, humoured, and, if possible, | admired, during their short periodical sojourn at home; but the | display of whose real character, in its depth and earnestness, | must be looked for on a different stage. On this hypothesis, we | are content to see in Rupert's domestic manners the exhibition of | a Socratic irony (though we think his indifference to his sister's | letter beyond the reach of even this excuse,) and to give him | credit, not only for the possession of numerous undiscovered | virtues, but for no inconsiderable humility in the design, and a | masterly power of self-restraint in the execution, of their | concealment. But, whatever we may think about Rupert, the | chief merit of the book will remain untouched, which lies in the | inculcation of the active and conscientious discharge of the | domestic duties in all mutual charity and forbearance; and we | welcome 'Abbeychurch' as a valuable addition to that increasing | class of fictions, which teach how | | | 'The Birthday' is equal, probably, in intention, but certainly | inferior in execution, to the two we have just left. The principles | are good, some of the characters (we would especially instance | Edward and Mary) well supported; and the interest of the story | sufficiently maintained to carry the reader on to the conclusion. | But it is too transparently instructive: its principles are conveyed | too directly through the medium of lectures, which are | sometimes scarcely disguised under the form of conversation. | The obvious objection to such a mode of instruction is the easy | separation of the useful and the entertaining, the potion and the | sugar. We can fancy the long passages between inverted | commas in this book, answering the same purpose to the young | reader, as the capital letters 'MORAL' in the fable-books, both | being understood to mean 'this may be skipped.' That we may | not, however, produce a more unfavourable impression of these | instructive, and often clever conversations, than we intend, we | will give a specimen: ~~ | | | | | | | The conversation is too protracted to allow us to insert enough to | justify our remarks; but though no adult reader can be otherwise | than pleased and edified by its tone and tenour, we are greatly | disposed to doubt, whether its form be well adapted either to | catch the attention, or impress the memory of younger minds. | This, we think, is a result of that confusion of different classes of | readers, to which we alluded in the commencement. Nor is it the | only fault arising from the same source. 'The Birthday' is | addressed, , and the principal actors in it range from | nine to twelve years old, so that we seem fully justified in | considering it intended for readers not greatly exceeding the | latter age. Yet what child of twelve years old can be benefited | by the exposure of the faults and follies of Lady Charles, the aunt of the party? Or why should he be | taught to ridicule the absurdities of Mrs. Dawson? Or is it good | to introduce to his notice the topics touched on, and very neatly | and clearly we admit, in the following passage? ~~ | | | | | | If it be said that the child will probably but imperfectly | comprehend these incidents and arguments, we seem forced on | the alternative, that their only object is to arrest the notice of | elder readers; and if they were simply unintelligible to children, | this might be a harmless and even a useful object. But we do not | suppose that this can be truly asserted; and we can scarcely doubt | that the chief lesson derived from such characters as Mrs. | Dawson or Lady Charles would be a taste for criticising and | ridiculing elders, and even relatives; a lesson but too easily | learnt, yet involving its teacher in a responsibility for which the | honours of successful authorship, or the satisfaction of a pungent | sentence, are but an inadequate recompense. | | 'Little Alice' is a very pleasing tale, unexceptionable in matter, | and more simple in style than might be anticipated from its | luxuriantly-adorned margins. The angry naughtiness, and sullen, | though temporary, pride of childhood, is delineated to the very | life, while the smile with which we are too apt to regard childish | faults is instantly checked by the grave admonition of their | sinfulness. The following scene of ill-temper and recovery is | excellent: ~~ | | | | | | | It may be to some quite refreshing to turn from these scenes of | politer life to the noisy merriment and plain, rough morality of | Mr. Paget's village schoolboys. This second series is no way | inferior to the former, and we like his village children better than | his adult parishioners. Let it not be supposed, however, that we | intend to join the cry of coarseness and uncharitableness that has | been raised against him. We may sometimes pity him for the | task he has chosen, and shrink from his vivid pages as we would | from the realities they depict; but if unchristian vulgarity and | profane cant are allowed to pass current in society, hidden under | the broad mantle of respectability, our censure should light, not | on him who detects and exposes such things, (repulsive as the | process may sometimes be,) but on those who practise and | tolerate them. Yet it is undoubtedly more agreeable to avoid the | contact of such characters, even in fiction, and therefore the | 'Tales of the Village Children' afford us more unmixed pleasure | than 'Milford Malvoisin' or the 'Warden of Berkingholt.' The | longest story, 'Merry Andrew,' which occupies about half the | volume, is also the best. 'Merry' is a well-earned prenomen | bestowed on him by his schoolfellows, and on it Mr. Paget | remarks: ~~ | | | | | | However, a series of events was in store for him, which | completely carried off his redundant spirits, or rather converted | them to their proper use in furnishing an unfailing stock of | cheerfulness under severe affliction. | | 'The Birdkeeping Boy,' a Suffolk story, is another capital | illustration of plain, yet good, country manners; a happy flow of | poetry in it raises it above the homeliness incidental to such | stories. The following conversation will make us acquainted | with some of the characters: ~~ | | | | | | By Mr. Bull's intercession the matter is settled in Mary's favour; | and the following Sunday, after James had somewhat sadly got | through his morning bird-keeping, ~~ | | | | There is much simple effect in another scene which describes the | courage of a little village girl who is attacked on the road by a | bad boy, as she is conveying her brother his dinner. | | | | | | | This story appeared originally in the 'Magazine for the Young,' a | small monthly periodical, which has now swelled to three little | volumes, at the rate of one volume to a year, and which, as may | be collected from the sample we have just given, can command | the services of valuable contributors. Its contents are most | various: stories, notices of the ecclesiastical year, remarks on | portions of the Liturgy, natural history, poetry, original and | selected, extracts from approved works, modern and ancient, | chequer the pages with a generally pleasing variety. Of the | poetry, we need only say, that the fact of it being suited for the | young, has not at all served to lower it as real poetry. Many | pieces are quite first-rate in their particular style; and as the | contributors to the magazine have allowed their prose to be | republished, we beg to state our opinion, that the poetry quite | deserves to be. Though at the risk of lengthening our extracts, | we cannot forbear giving two specimens: ~~ | | | | | | | | | | We come now to a work which exhibits in a strong, though we | are sorry we cannot add, in a satisfactory light, a remarkable and | distinguishing characteristic of our recent literature. For among | the many changes which might be pointed out in the general | character of our popular works, there is scarce any feature more | striking than the still increasing prominence assigned to the | imaginative faculties. The natural appetite of children, it is true, | was never wholly stifled; their craving after the marvellous, the | beautiful, the heroic; their earnest longing for objects of | superhuman admiration and unearthly love, could never be | altogether suppressed: but the cold materialism of a former age, | while it discountenanced all indulgence of emotions, which it | ignorantly deemed unreal and unpractical, encouraged only | instructive narratives, didactic conversations, and general | moralities, clothed in a flimsy texture of uninteresting fiction; | and even the German Tales and Arabian Nights were | momentarily expecting their sentence of banishment from our | nurseries. But, with the more earnest inculcation of the reality of | an unseen world within, sensual existence fades away into a very | nothing, there has naturally arisen a truer appreciation of the | value of that faculty (nearly allied to faith, if, indeed, it be not | rather an essential part of faith), which enables us to apprehend | the invisible; and the mode and degree of its due cultivation has | accordingly become a problem which Mr. Sewell (we can | scarcely be afraid of error in assigning him more than an editor's | interest in the work) has assayed in "Rodolph the Voyager," and | which, | | indeed, in the preface to the second volume, he has attempted to | reduce under the rule and method of art. His descriptive powers | are undeniable. Many of our readers will recognise in the | following extract, the graphic horrors of a well-known pen; | unfortunately we must add, they will find in other parts its | equally well-known theories: ~~ | | | | | | However, these sensations pass away. Alasco's father claims | acquaintance with Rodolph's great grandsire, significantly | intimating that his favours are bestowed to the | fourth generation. The lovely Countess Amelie seems | captivated by the grace of Rodolph's figure; and in spite of | warning voices from his guardian spirit, in spite of the alarming | mystery which continually pervades the castle, and ever and | anon manifests itself in some startling apparition, as when from | the flowers in Amelie's bosom ~~ Rodolph allows | himself to be completely absorbed by the whirlpool of | dissipation which he has entered. His delusion lasts not a week: | on the Sunday evening he commits an act of crime, which rends | away the thin veil of pleasure, and discloses to him the awful | realities of the scene in which he has been engaged. Alasco | shows him his destined prison: ~~ | | | | | | We regret that the writer of these passages, so powerfully gifted | with the means of exciting and impressing the imagination, | should have disqualified himself by his peculiar theories from the | work which he has undertaken. Unless we are willing that the | rising generation should imbibe the views, whose full | development we have lately seen in 'Hawkstone,' we cannot | allow 'Rodolph' to possess their confidence. However edifying | the principle of duality may appear in the concordant powers and | mutual condescensions of the Sovereign and the Archbishop, we | do not wish to see it exemplified in the alternate personation of | papal emissary and puritan captain by Evil One himself. | | We have come to the end of our list, and may now congratulate | our readers on a fact, which, at present, pervades our lighter | literature. We mean the spirit of earnestness and reality which is | to be found in almost all the books of this character which are | now published. How rarely, comparatively, do we see either | novel, tale, or poem, written merely to amuse the leisure of the | reader, or display the talents of the writer! Almost all are the | expression of some real feeling, the mode in which the ideas of | the writer find a desired vent. Thoughts are not raked up, or | invention racked, in order that books may be written; but books | are written, because their authors have that within them which | seeks expression and embodiment. Nor is this any detriment to | their efficiency in instruction; the conversation of the | well-informed man, whose words flow on because | | his mind impels them, is more valuable, in hours of relaxation, | than the set lecture carefully composed to meet the | comprehension of the audience. If the latter conveys more | information to the predisposed and attentive mind, the former | invests it with the interest of living power, and arrests even the | careless by its energetic tones. This, indeed, is the only true | mode of combining instruction with amusement: if it be not the | natural product of the writer's mind, but the laboured | composition of the conscious teacher, the fraud is sooner or later | detected, and the detection produces a feeling of soreness at the | supposed injury, which may baffle all the well-intended efforts | of the author. The limits, too, of this species of writing are more | generally recognised; for it is not every kind of instruction which | will bear this forced union with amusement. There is much that | we can learn only by direct work, by consecutive thought and | laborious investigation; there is much also that we learn, almost | unconsciously, by the ever-changing flow of events, by the | thousand little circumstances which scarce attract our notice at | the time, and retain no place in our memory afterwards, but | which have contributed, without our knowledge, each by its own | slight and silent impression to ripen, change, and mould our | character. This latter kind maybe gained, perhaps even better, by | the indirect instruction of tale or song; the former certainly | cannot. Physical knowledge belongs chiefly to the former | species; ethical, more generally, to the latter. The one can | scarcely be conveyed in any other form than that of the direct | lecture; the other is more widely impressed on us by the | exhibition of life and action. Hence we see, why it is a mistake, | on the one hand, to introduce such remarks as that, , | and on the other, to indulge in long disquisitions or moral | lectures. The one is trespassing on an improper topic; the other | diverging from the professed method of instruction. The object | should be, to impart ethical information through the medium of | human action; to give, as it were, the quintessence of ordinary | life, by combining, in a short period, and under striking relations, | those consecutive series of incidents which are commonly spread | over a large space of our actual existence. It is, in short, an effort | to enable the young to dispense with the fatal law ~~ , | , ~~ to evade the necessity of actual trial, and make the | experience of others their own, not by a mere acceptance of its | results, (a process almost proverbially impossible,) but by a safe, | because a mimic, passage through the fiery ordeal.