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The following is Miss Mathilde Blind's criticism, which, though a little too enthusiastic perhaps, shows a keen appreciation of the redeeming merits of the book:
For the absent Cap'n Abe he appeared to feel a strong man's good-natured scorn for a weak one; but Louise saw him stand often before Jerry's cage, chirping to the bird and playing with him. And at such times there was moisture in Cap'n Amazon's eye. "Blind's a bat! Poor little critter!" he would murmur. "All the sunshine does is to warm him; he can't see it no more.
Skinner, for no only is the spare bedroom vent no gaen, but the blind's drawn doon frae tap to fut, so they're no even airin' the room. Na, it canna be him; an' what's mair, it'll be naebody 'at's to bide a' nicht at the manse." "I wouldna say that; na, na. "Tod, I'll tell ye wha it'll be. I wonder I didna think o' 'im sooner.
He led the way to the front room. Suddenly he stopped. 'Hollo! he cried. 'The blind's down! I had noticed, when we were outside, that the blind was down at the front room window. 'It was up when I went, that I'll swear. That someone has been here is pretty plain, let's hope it's Marjorie. He had only taken a step forward into the room when he again stopped short to exclaim.
"The stern mournfulness which is produced by most of her novels gives us the idea of one who does not know, or who has forgotten, that the stone was rolled away from the heart of the world on the morning when Christ arose from the tomb." Miss Blind's Life of George Eliot. Mr. Cross's Life of George Eliot, I regret to say, did not reach me until after the foregoing pages had gone to press.
'They must find it rather dull and dark, Miss Peecher, for the parlour blind's down, and neither of them pulls it up. 'There is no accounting, said good Miss Peecher with a little sad sigh which she repressed by laying her hand on her neat methodical boddice, 'there is no accounting for tastes, Mary Anne.
"Now," mutters Jenny, as she hears him run away, "I'll no see his face till mornin; an' he'll come in as blind's a bat." And out she flies to catch him; but, in her hurry, she overturns Geordie, just as his lips are manufacturing the ordinary "Guid e'en to ye, Jenny!" "The same to ye, Geordie," says she; and, with that boon, leaves him on her flight.
"Usually, but he may be late to-day since he went to bed such a short time ago. He evidently isn't up yet, for his blind's still down. That's his room on the left." But as they gazed the blind went up, and they saw him turning away from the window. "Oh, why didn't he look at us!" cried Ellen. "Why didn't he look at us?"
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