besides its collection of 'curiosities of literature,' it has really charming interludes when Southey is not tempted into too deliberate facetiousness. A great author would not like, I imagine, to rest his fame upon a perfect nursery story, and yet, if 'literary immortality' be desirable, the immortal story of the Three Bears is more likely to secure that result than Madoc or Roderick. To add a new legend fit to take place amidst the old legendary stories is surely a remarkable feat. This is the gem of the Doctor; but it is one outcome of a playful and tender sentiment which, amidst some obvious defects, often shows the real charm of Southey's domestic atmosphere. The frontispiece—a view of Southey's back as he sits in his library—is characteristic. You can see the man in spite of the concealment almost as clearly as if he showed his falcon beak; the neat alert figure, not lolling, but sitting bolt upright before the beautiful rows of well-bound books which he managed to collect in spite of his poverty, and which he still affectionately fondled when the power of reading them had gone. The correlation of organism and environment (Southey would have shuddered at such neologisms!) is perfect. He is as much in his place as a Dryad
