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than we poor； grown…up； obliterated fools remember。
The name of Skelt itself has always seemed a part and parcel of the
charm of his productions。 It may be different with the rose； but
the attraction of this paper drama sensibly declined when Webb had
crept into the rubric： a poor cuckoo； flaunting in Skelt's nest。
And now we have reached Pollock； sounding deeper gulfs。 Indeed；
this name of Skelt appears so stagey and piratic； that I will adopt
it boldly to design these qualities。 Skeltery； then； is a quality
of much art。 It is even to be found； with reverence be it said；
among the works of nature。 The stagey is its generic name； but it
is an old； insular； home…bred staginess； not French； domestically
British； not of to…day； but smacking of O。 Smith； Fitzball； and the
great age of melodrama： a peculiar fragrance haunting it； uttering
its unimportant message in a tone of voice that has the charm of
fresh antiquity。 I will not insist upon the art of Skelt's
purveyors。 These wonderful characters that once so thrilled our
soul with their bold attitude； array of deadly engines and
incomparable costume； to…day look somewhat pallidly； the extreme
hard favour of the heroine strikes me； I had almost said with pain；
the villain's scowl no longer thrills me like a trumpet； and the
scenes themselves； those once unparalleled landscapes； seem the
efforts of a prentice hand。 So much of fault we find； but on the
other side the impartial critic rejoices to remark the presence of
a great unity of gusto； of those direct clap…trap appeals； which a
man is dead and buriable when he fails to answer； of the footlight
glamour； the ready…made； bare…faced； transpontine picturesque； a
thing not one with cold reality； but how much dearer to the mind！
The scenery of Skeltdom … or； shall we say； the kingdom of
Transpontus？ … had a prevailing character。 Whether it set forth
Poland as in THE BLIND BOY； or Bohemia with THE MILLER AND HIS MEN；
or Italy with THE OLD OAK CHEST； still it was Transpontus。 A
botanist could tell it by the plants。 The hollyhock was all
pervasive； running wild in deserts； the dock was common； and the
bending reed； and overshadowing these were poplar； palm； potato
tree； and QUERCUS SKELTICA … brave growths。 The caves were all
embowelled in the Surreyside formation； the soil was all betrodden
by the light pump of T。 P。 Cooke。 Skelt； to be sure； had yet
another； an oriental string： he held the gorgeous east in fee； and
in the new quarter of Hyeres； say； in the garden of the Hotel des
Iles d'Or； you may behold these blessed visions realised。 But on
these I will not dwell； they were an outwork； it was in the
accidental scenery that Skelt was all himself。 It had a strong
flavour of England； it was a sort of indigestion of England and
drop…scenes； and I am bound to say was charming。 How the roads
wander； how the castle sits upon the hill； how the sun eradiates
from behind the cloud； and how the congregated clouds themselves
up…roll； as stiff as bolsters！ Here is the cottage interior； the
usual first flat； with the cloak upon the nail； the rosaries of
onions； the gun and powder…horn and corner…cupboard； here is the
inn （this drama must be nautical； I foresee Captain Luff and Bold
Bob Bowsprit） with the red curtain； pipes； spittoons； and eight…day
clock； and there again is that impressive dungeon with the chains；
which was so dull to colour。 England； the hedgerow elms； the thin
brick houses； windmills； glimpses of the navigable Thames …
England； when at last I came to visit it； was only Skelt made
evident： to cross the border was； for the Scotsman； to come home to
Skelt； there was the inn…sign and there the horse…trough； all
foreshadowed in the faithful Skelt。 If； at the ripe age of
fourteen years； I bought a certain cudgel； got a friend to load it；
and thenceforward walked the tame ways of the earth my own ideal；
radiating pure romance … still I was but a puppet in the hand of
Skelt； the original of that regretted bludgeon； and surely the
antitype of all the bludgeon kind； greatly improved from
Cruikshank； had adorned the hand of Jonathan Wild； pl。 I。 〃This is
mastering me；〃 as Whitman cries； upon some lesser provocation。
What am I？ what are life； art； letters； the world； but what my
Skelt has made them？ He stamped himself upon my immaturity。 The
world was plain before I knew him； a poor penny world； but soon it
was all coloured with romance。 If I go to the theatre to see a
good old melodrama； 'tis but Skelt a little faded。 If I visit a
bold scene in nature； Skelt would have been bolder； there had been
certainly a castle on that mountain； and the hollow tree … that set
piece … I seem to miss it in the foreground。 Indeed； out of this
cut…and…dry； dull； swaggering； obtrusive； and infantile art； I seem
to have learned the very spirit of my life's enjoyment； met there
the shadows of the characters I was to read about and love in a
late future； got the romance of DER FREISCHUTZ long ere I was to
hear of Weber or the mighty Formes； acquired a gallery of scenes
and characters with which； in the silent theatre of the brain； I
might enact all novels and romances； and took from these rude cuts
an enduring and transforming pleasure。 Reader … and yourself？
A word of moral： it appears that B。 Pollock； late J。 Redington； No。
73 Hoxton Street； not only publishes twenty…three of these old
stage favourites； but owns the necessary plates and displays a
modest readiness to issue other thirty…three。 If you love art；
folly； or the bright eyes of children； speed to Pollock's； or to
Clarke's of Garrick Street。 In Pollock's list of publicanda I
perceive a pair of my ancient aspirations： WRECK ASHORE and
SIXTEEN…STRING JACK； and I cherish the belief that when these shall
see once more the light of day； B。 Pollock will remember this
apologist。 But； indeed； I have a dream at times that is not all a
dream。 I seem to myself to wander in a ghostly street … E。 W。； I
think； the postal district … close below the fool's…cap of St。
Paul's； and yet within easy hearing of the echo of the Abbey
bridge。 There in a dim shop； low in the roof and smelling strong
of glue and footlights； I find myself in quaking treaty with great
Skelt himself； the aboriginal all dusty from the tomb。 I buy； with
what a choking heart … I buy them all； all but the pantomimes； I
pay my mental money； and go forth； and lo！ the packets are dust。
CHAPTER XIV。 A GOSSIP ON A NOVEL OF DUMAS'S
THE books that we re…read the oftenest are not always those that we
admire the most； we choose and we re…visit them for many and
various reasons； as we choose and revisit human friends。 One or
two of Scott's novels； Shakespeare； Moliere； Montaigne； THE EGOIST；
and the VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE； form the inner circle of my
intimates。 Behind these comes a good troop of dear acquaintances；
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS in the front rank； THE BIBLE IN SPAIN not
far behind。 There are besides a certain number that look at me
with reproach as I pass them by on my shelves： books that I once
thumbed and studied： houses which were once like home to me； but
where I now rarely visit。 I am on these sad terms （and blush to
confess it） with Wordsworth； Horace； Burns and Hazlitt。 Last of
all； there is the class of book that has its hour of brilliancy …
glows； sings； charms； and then fades again into insignificance
until the fit return。 Chief of those who thus smile and frown on
me by turns； I must name Virgil and Herrick； who； were they but
〃Their sometime selves the same throughout the year；〃
must have stood in the first company with the six names of my
continual literary intimates。 To these six； incongruous as they
seem； I have long been faithful； and hope to be faithful to the day
of death。 I have never read