But, as we look, the low wail of the sad music is in our ears, the
scene changes to a weird world of faery, the story merges in a dream,
and Rip Van Winkle smiles at us from a realm beyond the diocese of
conscience. If conscience, indeed, will obtrude, conscience shall be
satisfied. It is a sermon if you will, but if you will, also, it is a
poem.




A CHINESE CRITIC.


The Easy Chair was agreeably surprised the other day by a call from a
yellowish-visaged gentleman in a queue, who announced himself as of
the family of Lien Chi Altangi, a name which the reader will recall as
that of the Chinese philosopher and citizen of the world whose letters
of observation in England were edited by Dr. Goldsmith. After the
natural courtesies of such a meeting, and the Easy Chair's compliments
upon the shrewdness and charm of his distinguished ancestor's
observations, the Chinese gentleman fell into easy conversation, and
was congratulated upon his singular familiarity with our language. He
remarked that it was always an advantage to a traveller to know the
language of the country, and he had no doubt that so travelling a
people as the American were of the same opinion. "And as you travel
over the world more generally than any other people," he said, "I
presume that you are generally familiar with many languages." The Easy
Chair bowed, and cleared its throat, and smiled, and said, "Oh
yes--probably--undoubtedly."