A WINTER PURSUIT. 
207 
To illustrate Thomson’s occasional verbosity and diffusive- 
ness, Johnson once read aloud to Shiels a large part of him, and 
then asked, “ Is not this fine ? ” Shiels expressed the highest 
admiration. “ Well, Sir, I have omitted every other line.” For 
pure beauty, like in its degree the beauty of Spenser, or of 
Keats, or of the Lotus Eaters, or of Kubla Khan, Thomson’s Castle 
of Indolence is his best work. There occur the wonderful lines : 
“ As when a shepherd in the Hebrid isles. 
Placed far amid the melancholy main : ” 
the “ sable, silent, solemn forest,” all those enchanting images 
of dreamy,_ luxurious, murmuring, restful places. But Hazlitt, 
by far the best critic of Thomson, explains the greatness 
of Thomson ; his power of expressing the whole soul of the 
season and of the landscape. Read him for single fine lines, 
wonderful Tennysonian phrases, and you will be disappointed, 
but read him through, and his charm will be felt ; “ that is 
exactly the feeling of a summer day,” you will exclaim, or “ the 
very image of the moon in winter.” In an age not given to the 
minute study or to the general appreciation of Nature, without 
any model save the classics, Thomson wrote his great poem : 
let us not forget to honour his memory. A pleasant figure ! 
“ Alore fat than bard beseems,” as he sang of himself. A 
pleasant figure he makes in our memories, sunning himself 
along the old garden wall, eating peaches with his hands in the 
pockets of his dressing gown, and murmuring his sonorous lines; 
a poet of laborious indolence, but of excellent poetry. 
Lionel Johnson. 
A WINTER PURSUIT. 
NCE again is depressing November upon us, causing us to 
shudder apprehensively at the near approach of winter. 
Heavy rains and high winds are already playing sad 
havoc with the foliage, the rich autumnal tints of 
which afforded but now such a grand show. A few more frosts, 
another gale, and the woods will be riding out the winter storms 
under bare poles. Nature will make all snug. Hibernating 
animals will batten down their hatches, retire below, and turn 
in for their annual sleep, not without a pardonable glance of 
approval at their own plump persons and well-filled garners, 
and a feeling of satisfaction at the profitable use they have 
made of the warm weather. Most Selbornians, of course, have 
had the forethought to provide some means of keeping in touch 
with nature during the slack season. Some have made collec- 
tions of plants, insects, minerals, &c., from the naming, labelling 
and arranging of which they will extract much intellectual 
enjoyment. Others have started aquaria. Others will digest 
