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Updated: May 28, 2025
Miss Stiles' voice was softer and slower than any complaining cow's. "Yes. I hear you've all been laughing about the elephant. That was a thing that might have happened to any one." Puddifoot laughed. "The point is, though, that it happened to Brandon. That's the joke. And his new top hat." "Well, I won't have it. Milk, doctor? Miss Dobell and I agree that it's a shame."
Of Traherne, too, we shall say here only as much as our present consideration and the further aims of this book require. We cannot concern ourselves with the remarkable events which led, half a century ago, to the discovery and identification of his long-lost writings by Bertram Dobell.
In the high carved seats behind and beyond the choir the congregation was sitting; Miss Dobell, who never missed a service that her brother was singing, with her pinched white face and funny old- fashioned bonnet, lost between the huge arms of her seat; Mrs. Combermere, with a friend, stiff and majestic; Mrs.
Meanwhile at G.H.Q. the momentous decision was being taken, on the recommendation of General Dobell and the Divisional commanders, not to attack again on the 20th, but to consolidate the ground won, and to start trench warfare.
Alexander Smith never rises to the heights nor strikes the distinct notes of Dobell; but the Life Drama is really on the whole better than either Balder or The Roman, and is full of what may be called, from opposite points of view, happy thoughts and quaint conceits, expressed in a stamp of verse certainly not quite original, but melodious always, and sometimes very striking.
Finally he strayed into quotations from Sidney Dobell, a writer now hardly remembered, with one of which, describing a girl bathing, he made the Master's academic rafters ring: "She, with her body bright sprinkles the waters white, Which flee from her fair form, and flee in vain, Dyed with the dear unutterable sight, And circles out her beauties to the circling main."
Not that he exactly despised them; he felt kindly towards them and would have done no single one of them an injury, but he knew them all so well Mrs. Combermere, Miss Dobell, Mrs. Cole, Drake, Thompson. They were shadows before him. If he looked hard at them, they seemed to disappear.... The exultation that he had felt as he stood outside his house-door increased with every moment that passed.
We trust, that, before long, a fairer and fuller biography than that by Mr. Redpath will remove the obstacle which this book now presents to the general appreciation of the character and life of John Brown. Poems. By SYDNEY DOBELL. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1860. Many of Mr.
Dobell, smiling so that a dimple appeared in each cheek, said in his chuckling whisper to Brandon: "Render comes to-day, doesn't he?" "Ronder?" Brandon repeated, coming abruptly out of his secret exultation. "Yes...Hart-Smith's successor." "Oh, yes I believe he does...." Cobbett, the Verger, with his gold staff, appeared in the Vestry door.
This precaution, however, has not saved Traherne from being misinterpreted in our own day in precisely the way he feared indeed, by no less a person than his own discoverer, Dobell. It is the symptomatic character of this misinterpretation which prompts us to deal with it here.
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