Even the “Evening Post” calls them “Mr. Gibson’s four sympathetic, appreciative, poetically interpretative essays upon the seasons.” And it puts the question to its readers, “Need we say that this author-artist is a poet although he writes in prose, or that his text and his pictures are essentially a poem of the New England year?” But two of his reviewers—one in the “Utica Morning Herald,” and another in the “Boston Literary World”—actually cite the same passage in his prose which “reads with the movement and rhythm of blank verse.” The latter of these says:
“Mr. Gibson writes with a curious study of rhythmic effect; his whole book, in fact, might easily have been converted into blank verse,—as witness this extract from pp. 127-8, which, to help the illusion, we print in that form:
Silently like thoughts that come and go,
The snowflakes fall each one a gem,
The whitened air conceals all earthly trace,
And leaves to memory the space to fill.
I look upon a blank whereon my fancy paints,
As could no hand of mine, the pictures and the poems of a boyhood life:
And even as the undertone of a painting, be it warm or cool,
Shall modify or change the color laid upon it,
So this cold and frosty background, through the window,
Transfigures all my thoughts, and forms them into winter memories, legion like the snow.
Oh, that I could translate for other eyes, the winter idyl painted there!
I see a living past!
“All this, understand, and the rest of a hundred and fifty and more pages like it, is sober prose; but it makes one think of eighteenth-century poetry like Graham’s, which is very good descriptive poetry by the way.”
Says one enthusiastic critic, speaking first of the make-up of the volume:
“It is almost too beautiful to read; but with a determination to see what lay beyond this vision of the beautiful, we commenced to read, and found the author to be a high-priest of nature. We were led along by the charming simplicity of the writer, till at last, in midsummer we seemed to be surrounded by scenes so familiar that we almost suspected that by some strange mishap the author had misspelled the name of the school of early days, and had written ‘Snuggery’ for ‘Gunnery.’ How is this?...
“The letter-press of such books is usually a make-weight for the illustrations; but in this case it is hard to decide which of the two merits the palm.”
Another speaks of the text of the book, saying:
“Here quite as strikingly as in the designs for illustration is shown that loving familiarity with all the infinite variations in nature’s moods and works. Without the pictures altogether, these sketches would compel admiration as very notable specimens of word-painting.”
It will be news to many of his admirers to know that Gibson’s first book was published in 1876. It was entitled, “The Complete American Trapper,” and was published by James Miller, of New York. The book was republished in 1878 by Bradley & Co., and again in 1880 by Harper Brothers under the title, “Camp-Life in the Woods; and the Tricks of Trapping and Trap-Making.” It was written out of the joyous and ample memories of his youth, supplemented by his reading and intercourse with hunters and woodsmen. He refers in the preface to his own boyish days, and to “one autumn in particular which shines out above all the rest; and that was when his traps were first set, and were the chief source of his amusement. The adventurous excitement which sped him on in those daily tramps through the woods, and the