1/34 _faint, pale, embarrassed, exquisite Pater! He reminds me, in the disturbed midnight of our actual literature, of one of those lucent match-boxes which you place, on going to bed, near the candle, to show you, in the darkness, where you can strike a light: he shines in the uneasy gloom--vaguely, and has a phosphorescence, not a flame. But I quite agree with you that he is not of the little day--but of the longer time_ .-- HENRY JAMES. |