OF RICHARD JEFFERIES 



maker, the spirit which was taken from 

 nature, abides in the massive bronze. 

 These lions are finer than those that 

 crouch in the cages at the Zoological 

 Gardens ; these are truer and more real, 

 and, besides, these are lions to whom 

 has been added the heart of a man. 

 Nothing disfigures them ; smoke and, 

 what is much worse, black rain — rain 

 which washes the atmosphere of the 

 suspended mud— does not affect them 

 in the least. If the choke-damp of fog 

 obscures them, it leaves no stain on the 

 design ; if the surfaces be stained, the 

 idea made tangible in metal is not. 

 They are no more touched than Time 

 itself by the alternations of the seasons. 

 The only noble open-air work of native 

 art in the four-million city, they rest 

 there supreme and are the centre. Did 

 such a work exist now in Venice, what 

 immense folios would be issued about 

 it! All the language of the studios 



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