even, occasionally, of "that strong power called
weakness." And they all wear something of a glory
imparted to them by the sympathy of their creator
and interpreter. High upon any roster of our best
American writers we must enroll the name of Mrs.
Atherton.

Of all her books I like best this "Rezanov,"
though I have not found many to agree with me.
It is not so pretentious as others more frequently
commended. It is a simple story, almost one might
say an incident or an anecdote. It is not literally
sophisticated. For me that is its unfailing charm.
I find in it not a little of the strange, primeval
quality that makes me think of "Aucassin and Nico-
lette." For it is not so much a novel as an his-
torical idyl, not to be read without a persisting
suffusion of sympathy and never to be remembered
without a recurring tenderness. Remembered, did
I say? It is unforgettable. There are few books
of American origin that resist so well the passing
of the years, that take on more steadily the glam-
our of "the unimaginable touch of time." "Rez-
anov" is a classic, or I miss my guess. This, though
it was first published so recently as 1906.

The story has the merit of being, to some extent
historically, and wholly artistically, true. For the
matter-of-facts Mrs. Atherton provides a bibliog-
raphy of her authorities. Those authorities I