stupid, well-meaning busybodies in the world, who go about making
question of the sonneteer why he does not attempt something epic and
homicidal, or worrying the carver of cherry-stones to try his hand at a
Colossus; but though they disturb and discompose, they luckily do no
material harm. They did no material harm to Kate Greenaway. She yielded,
no doubt, to pressure put upon her to try figures on a larger scale; to
illustrate books, which was not her strong point, as it only put fetters
upon her fancy; but, in the main, she courageously preserved the even
tenor of her way, which was to people the artistic demesne she
administered with the tiny figures which no one else could make more
captivating, or clothe more adroitly. It may be doubted whether the
collector will set much store by Bret Harte's _Queen of the Pirate Isle_
or the _Pied Piper of Hamelin_, suitable at first sight as is the
latter, with its child-element, to her inventive idiosyncrasy. But he
will revel in the dainty scenes of "Almanacks" (1883 to 1895, and 1897);
in the charming Birthday Book of 1880; in _Mother Goose, A Day in a
Child's Life, Little Ann, Marigold Garden_ and the rest, of which the
grace is perennial, though the popularity for the moment may have waned.

I have an idea that _Mother Goose; or, the Old Nursery Rhymes_, 1881,
was one of Miss Greenaway's favourites, although it may have been
displaced in her own mind by subsequent successes. Nothing can certainly
be more deftly-tinted than the design of the "old woman who lived under
a hill," and peeled apples; nothing more seductive, in infantile
attitude, than the little boy and girl, who, with their arms around each
other, stand watching the black-cat in the plum-tree. Then there is
Daffy-down-dilly, who has come up to town, with "a yellow petticoat and
a green gown," in which attire, aided by a straw hat tied under her
chin, she manages to look exceedingly attractive, as she passes in front
of the white house with the pink roof and the red shutters and the green