bered that they are written for those who do not know Browning, in no sense for those who do; and that the necessary deficiencies which cause a feeling of disapappointment in the latter case, only raise expectation in the former. Mr. Holland would have failed in his object if his readers were content to rest on what he has done; and he sends them to Mr. Browning himself with the certainty that their highest expectations will be fulfilled. The story-telling process is not that of a partial critic who picks out plums, and gives them as average specimens of the work on view, leaving its drier portions untouched; nor do the works with which Mr. Holland has had to deal leave room for this kind of selection. In the dramas, at least, the harmony of thought and expression is unbroken. Such beauties as Mr. Holland has extracted from them are not separate gems, but fragments, necessarily roughened and defaced, from a poetic mine, as large as life itself and as deep as the human truth by which Mr. Browning's genius has been inspired. The poems from which these stories are taken are a little world of men and women; and everything which men and women can do or feel is set forth or suggested by them. The dreamer and the man of action are side by side in Sordello.' Truth and sophistry, cynicism and enthusiasm, in 'Aristophanes' Apology.' The perfect mother's love is shown in the 'Ring and the Book ;' the brother's, in 'The Blot in the 'Scutcheon;' the friend's, in 'Strafford;' the lover's, in 'Colombe's Birthday.' Pippa is the ideal peasant-girl, and not an impossible one: simple, trusting, and self-reliant; with a healthy enjoyment of innocent pleasures and as healthy a shrinking from those which are not innocent; and Luria deserves to head the list, or at least to conclude it, as Mr. Browning's most perfect expression of human greatness and goodness. We may, indeed, doubt whether a being ever existed who combined, as he does, all that is most beautiful in the man's nature and in the child's. He belongs rather to the realm of poetic than to that of natural truth. We may be sure, nevertheless, that Mr. Browning felt the type as possible, or it would have found no place in his imagination. The 152nd verse of 'The Two Poets of Croisic,' published only a few years ago, may stand as a motto for every character he has drawn, every picture his words have painted for us. But truth, truth, that's the gold! and all the good I find in fancy is, it serves to set Gold's inmost glint free, gold which comes up rude Of artistry beyond this point pursued Brings out another sort of burnish : yet Always the ingot has its very own Value, a sparkle struck from truth alone.' June 20th. A. ORR. 3 STORIES FROM ROBERT BROWNING. E STRAFFORD. NGLAND had been for more than ten years without a Parliament; Eliot had died in prison, after having been confined for years in punishment for opposition to the King in the House of Commons; ship-money had been illegally exacted, despite Hampden's efforts; Puritan pamphleteers had been maimed, scourged, and pilloried; Nonconformists had been forced to emigrate to America; and arbitrary power had been fully established in Ireland. by Lord Wentworth, when this daring and crafty champion of the crown was summoned to London in consequence of the success of the rebellion in Scotland. Fierce as was the hatred of the patriots against the apostate, who had helped to carry through the Petition of Rights and then left them to become a B peer of the realm, President of the Council of the North, and, finally, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Pym still hoped to be able to bring his old friend back to the people's side. So he hastened to him in company with Hampden and Vane, according to our poet, as soon as it was known that the newlycreated Earl of Strafford had failed to keep his master from prematurely dissolving the Parliament, which he had persuaded him to call together early in 1640. - Strafford, meanwhile, complains to the King :'Laud, who hatched this war, falls to his prayers and leaves me alone. I always loathed the business, but yet I offered to bring an Irish army to support the English one. Fifty times you told me it was a brave plan. My army is raised, I am ready to join it, but now my whole design is set aside. I am forced to lead the English army, and who will answer for the Irish one? Is this my plan ?' The King says Strafford is disrespectful, but he answers: My liege, do not think so. I am yours to the death. Let all these mistakes pass for mine elsewhere. Here I am alone with you, and I must soon rush upon a giant in the dark. We need the Parliament frightfully, and cannot afford any error with them.' 'I have undone you, Strafford!' exclaims Charles. 'Nay, sir! Why despond? What have I said |