The word 'fantastical' is accentuated in our tongue to so scornful an utterance that the constant good service it does would make it seem an appointed instrument for reviewers of books of imaginative matter distasteful to those expository pens.

Upon examination, claimants to the epithet will be found outside of books and of poets, in many quarters, Nature being one of the prominent, if not the foremost.

Wherever she can get to drink her fill of sunlight she pushes forth fantastically.

As for that wandering ship of the drunken pilot, the mutinous crew and the angry captain, called Human Nature, 'fantastical' fits it no less completely than a continental baby's skull-cap the stormy infant.
Our sympathies, one may fancy, will be broader, our critical acumen shrewder, if we at once accept the thing as a part of us and worthy of study.
The pair of tragic comedians of whom there will be question pass under this word as under their banner and motto.

Their acts are incredible: they drank sunlight and drove their bark in a manner to eclipse historical couples upon our planet.