and sensitive as a child, Alan Breek is one of the most lovable
characters in all literature; and his penetration - a great part of
which he learned, to take his own account of it, by driving cattle
'through a throng lowland country with the black soldiers at his
tail' - blossoms into the most delightful reflections upon men and
things.

The highest ambitions of a novelist are not easily attainable. To
combine incident, character, and romance in a uniform whole, to
alternate telling dramatic situation with effects of poetry and
suggestion, to breathe into the entire conception a profound
wisdom, construct it with absolute unity, and express it in perfect
style, - this thing has never yet been done. A great part of
Stevenson's subtle wisdom of life finds its readiest outlet in his
essays. In these, whatever their occasion, he shows himself the
clearest-eyed critic of human life, never the dupe of the phrases
and pretences, the theories and conventions, that distort the
vision of most writers and thinkers. He has an unerring instinct
for realities, and brushes aside all else with rapid grace. In his
lately published AMATEUR EMIGRANT he describes one of his fellow-
passengers to America:


'In truth it was not whisky that had ruined him; he was ruined long
before for all good human purposes but conversation. His eyes were
sealed by a cheap school-book materialism. He could see nothing in
the world but money and steam engines. He did not know what you
meant by the word happiness. He had forgotten the simple emotions
of childhood, and perhaps never encountered the delights of youth.
He believed in production, that useful figment of economy, as if it