“Laughed every goblin When they spied her peeping; Came towards her hobbling, Flying, running, leaping, Puffing and blowing, Chuckling, clapping, crowing, Clucking and gobbling, Mopping and mowing, Full of airs and graces, Pulling wry faces, Demure grimaces, Cat-like and rat-like, Ratel and wombat-like, Snail-paced in a hurry, Parrot-voiced and whistler, Helter-skelter, hurry-skurry, Chattering like magpies, Fluttering like pigeons, Gliding like fishes―― Hugged her and kissed her; Squeezed and caressed her; Stretched up their dishes, Panniers and plates; ‘Look at our apples Russet and dun, Bob at our cherries, Bite at our peaches, Citrons and dates, Grapes for the asking, Pears red with basking Out in the sun, Plums on their twigs; Pluck them and suck them, Pomegranates, figs.’” Of course this is not very high poetry, nor as such is it quoted here. But it is one of many wonderful pieces of minute and life-like painting that occur in this strange poem. From the same we quote another passage as exhibiting what we would call a splendid fault in the poet: “White and golden Lizzie stood, Like a lily in a flood―― Like a rock of blue-veined stone Lashed by tides obstreperously; Like a beacon left alone In a hoary, roaring sea, Sending up a golden fire; Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree White with blossoms honey-sweet, Sore beset by wasp and bee; Like a royal virgin town, Topped with gilded dome and spire, Close beleaguered by a fleet, Mad to tug her standard down.” Undoubtedly these are fine and spirited lines, and, some of them at least, noble similes. What do they call up to the mind of the reader? One of those heroic maidens who in history have led armies to victory and relieved nations――a Joan of Arc leading a forlorn hope girt around by the English. Any picture of this kind it would fit; but what is it intended to represent? A little girl struggling to prevent the little goblin-men from pressing their fatal fruits into her mouth! The statue is far too large for the pedestal. Here is another instance of the same, the lines of which might be taken from a Greek chorus: “Her locks streamed like the torch Borne by a racer at full speed, Or like the mane of horses in their flight, Or like an eagle when she stems the light Straight toward the sun, Or like a caged thing freed, Or like a flying flag when armies run.”