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Updated: June 19, 2025
Surfeited early in life with his drawing-room successes, our hero preferred by far burying himself in his hunting story-books, or spending the evening at the club, to making a personal exhibition before a Nimes piano between a pair of home-made candles. These musical parades seemed beneath him.
But don't be unhappy about it. You don't know how many aunts it may have warned. 'I'm afraid aunts are not so impressionable as nieces. And, indeed, among ourselves story-books seemed quite outside from life, we never thought of getting any ideas from them any more than from Bluebeard.
I really have not time to go into their history. You will find it all in the story-books. They died in the woods, listening to the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree. It was a sad fate for them, and I pity them. So, I hope, do you. Good night!"
Cruikshank's works the "Busen fuhlt sich jugendlich erschuttert," the "schwankende Gestalten" of youth flit before one again, Cruikshank's thrush begins to pipe and carol, as in the days of boyhood; hence misty moralities, reflections, and sad and pleasant remembrances arise. He is the friend of the young especially. Have we not read, all the story-books that his wonderful pencil has illustrated?
And yet he knew that the end would be as she had said. She would be the wife of the man she did not love. Fate had given her to him when the world was young; there was no escape. In story-books, perhaps, but not in real life. And how he had come to love her! They were coming to the ridge road and Selim fell back to explain the need for caution.
Her lip trembled, and she said, "I'm not horrid really, am I?" "Not a bit," replied her father; "you're only a little goose now and then, and I'm such an old gander that I don't mind that a bit." Johnnie smiled and was comforted. Her thoughts turned to the coming visitor. "Perhaps she'll be like the rich ladies in story-books," she said to herself. Next day Miss Inches came.
Now what was to be done? No good works were possible. Nurse Nancy could think of nothing more diverting than story-books, and so Terry and Turly sat each on a stool beside the fire with a book, while Nancy went as usual to attend to her mistress.
The child lifted to his face a pair of large blue eyes, beautiful with timid wistfulness, as she replied: "I know I oughtn't, sir, but I wanted to see how they got out of Doubting Castle so bad." He smiled. "I will give you the book after school; then you can read it at home." "Oh, no," she whispered; "father won't let me read story-books."
There was plenty of pleasant occupation for me in that chamber. I had my little bench, on which I sat at her feet, and read aloud to her as she sewed, something which she had selected for me. Sure I am that she opened to me many a sealed fountain. My range of reading had been limited to infant story-books and easy school-lessons.
The range of these was limited, for story-books of every description were sternly excluded. No fiction of any kind, religious or secular, was admitted into the house. In this it was to my Mother, not to my Father, that the prohibition was due.
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