ROUNDABOUT READINGS.
In a recent number of The Saturday Review I read a review of a book of verse, which I need not particularise further, as I am not concerned to affirm or to dispute the justice of the critic's estimate of it. I only refer to it incidentally. The author, according to this reviewer, possessed only the most elementary and commonplace notion with regard to aptness of epithets or allusions. Instances were cited, and we were further asked to believe that with this poet (I quote from the Saturday) "the voluble thrush is a family man, and the bibulous bee is a rover."
That sentence absolutely fascinated me. It continued to ring and ring in my brain for hours afterwards. It became the refrain to everything I read and everything I thought of. There was only one remedy. I promptly applied it, made a copy of verses to suit the pursuing sentence, and was cured of my ailment.