problem at all, and in the _Beach of Falesá_ the problem is less
momentous and perhaps (though of this I won't be sure) more closely
restricted by the accidents of circumstance and individual character;
(2) as I have hinted, the _Beach of Falesá_ has faults of
construction, one of which is serious, if not vital, while _The Isle
of Voices_, though beautifully composed, is tied down by the
triviality of its subject. But _The Bottle Imp_ is perfectly
constructed: the last page ends the tale, and the tale is told with a
light grace, sportive within restraint, that takes nothing from the
seriousness of the subject. Some may think this extravagant praise for
a little story which, after all (they will say), is flimsy as a soap
bubble. But let them sit down and tick off on their fingers the names
of living authors who could have written it, and it may begin to dawn
on them that a story has other dimensions than length and thickness.

* * * * *

Sept. 9, 1893. First thoughts on "Catriona."

Some while ago Mr. Barrie put together in a little volume eleven
sketches of eleven men whose fame has travelled far beyond the
University of Edinburgh. For this reason, I believe, he called them
"An Edinburgh Eleven"--as fond admirers speak of Mr. Arthur Shrewsbury
(upon whose renown it is notorious that the sun never sets) as "the
Notts Professional," and of a yet more illustrious cricketer by his
paltry title of "Doctor"--

"Not so much honouring thee,
As giving it a hope that there
It could not wither'd be."