ABSTRACT
In times of change, such as the present, when fresh growths are continually struggling up into daylight, there is some danger that older and, hitherto, well-loved forms of art and literature may disappear almost unheeded, and that, while we stand gladly watching the bean-stalk-like rise of our new specimens, we may become just a little ungrateful to those authors who have gladdened us in former days. Yet something is due to the old age of the great who have filled us with the fruit of their genius, although their ancient quiet claim may be easily neglected amidst the press of new things and the din of louder and fresher voices which to-day echo round us.
