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PART II - BOOKS
CHAPTER II - FORREST REID

beside parks, and between round green hills. The river is crossed by small bridges, and is flanked by backwaters overshadowed by alders ; here and there a house, inexpressibly sad even in sunshine, looks down a slope or across a meadow, and seems the home of some mysterious secret which will awake when the intruder has passed, and stealing forth without lifting a bolt will seek the grey surface of the water or the disk of the moon. Should one indulge in such a fancy, local legends are prompt to confirm it ; stories about fairies, told with every degree of affectation, can be collected in the vicinity-fairy rings, fairy thorns, fairies ninety miles high-proving, if nothing else, that the Irish mind turns easily to the supernatural when it feels hospitable or tired. The charm of the valley-that needs no proof. And as with the Lagan, so with other places in the district ; the Glens of Antrim, the cliffs near Ballycastle, the dark Mourne Mountains to the south-all, despite the variety of their scenery, have the sadness and the sense of unreality that we associate with an indwelling power. It is only the ordinary Celtic atmosphere which may be breathed more fully elsewhere, but it gains a peculiar quality when near to a great city andd to such a city as Belfast.
To call Mr. Forrest Reid the novelist of this region would give a false idea of his art, for he is only concerned incidentally with topography. But it does so happen that most of his scenes take place in or near Belfast and that his art itself contains the two elements indicated above : there is squalor and there is beauty, and both of them are haunted. Haunted by what ? It would take some time to answer the question. Certainly not by fairies ninety miles high. But in nearly every chapter, if we look closely, there are hints of that indwelling power seen, sometimes clearly, sometimes remotely. Despite the realism of his method and the prevalence of football matches, razor-strops, and all that, we are conscious of an underlying note that is sometimes sinister and always sad, so that we might say of his best work what he himself so beautifully says of the poetry of Poe :

` Delicate and unsubstantial as the grey dew upon the grass before the sun has risen, it appeals to us in some dim region of the mind where the laws of logic and of reason have no meaning. It acts upon our emotions or nervous

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE beside parks, and between round green hills. what is river is crossed by small bridges, and is flanked by backwaters overshadowed by alders ; here and there a house, inexpressibly sad even in sunshine, looks down a slope or across a meadow, and seems what is home of some mysterious secret which will awake when what is intruder has passed, and stealing forth without lifting a bolt will seek what is grey surface of what is water or what is disk of what is moon. Should one indulge in such a fancy, local legends are prompt to confirm it ; stories about fairies, told with every degree of affectation, can be collected in what is vicinity-fairy rings, fairy thorns, fairies ninety miles high-proving, if nothing else, that what is Irish mind turns easily to what is supernatural when it feels hospitable or tired. what is charm of what is valley-that needs no proof. And as with what is Lagan, so with other places in what is district ; what is Glens of Antri where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="page_001.asp" A BRIEF HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE (1914) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 76 where is strong PART II - BOOKS CHAPTER II - FORREST REID where is p align="justify" beside parks, and between round green hills. The river is crossed by small bridges, and is flanked by backwaters overshadowed by alders ; here and there a house, inexpressibly sad even in sunshine, looks down a slope or across a meadow, and seems what is home of some mysterious secret which will awake when what is intruder has passed, and stealing forth without lifting a bolt will seek what is grey surface of what is water or what is disk of what is moon. Should one indulge in such a fancy, local legends are prompt to confirm it ; stories about fairies, told with every degree of affectation, can be collected in what is vicinity-fairy rings, fairy thorns, fairies ninety miles high-proving, if nothing else, that what is Irish mind turns easily to what is supernatural when it feels hospitable or tired. what is charm of what is valley-that needs no proof. And as with what is Lagan, so with other places in what is district ; what is Glens of Antrim, the cliffs near Ballycastle, what is dark Mourne Mountains to what is south-all, despite what is variety of their scenery, have what is sadness and the sense of unreality that we associate with an indwelling power. It is only what is ordinary Celtic atmosphere which may be breathed more fully elsewhere, but it gains a peculiar quality when near to a great city andd to such a city as Belfast. To call Mr. Forrest Reid what is novelist of this region would give a false idea of his art, for he is only concerned incidentally with topography. But it does so happen that most of his scenes take place in or near Belfast and that his art itself contains what is two elements indicated above : there is squalor and there is beauty, and both of them are haunted. Haunted by what ? It would take some time to answer what is question. Certainly not by fairies ninety miles high. But in nearly every chapter, if we look closely, there are hints of that indwelling power seen, sometimes clearly, sometimes remotely. Despite what is realism of his method and what is prevalence of football matches, razor-strops, and all that, we are conscious of an underlying note that is sometimes sinister and always sad, so that we might say of his best work what he himself so beautifully says of what is poetry of Poe : ` Delicate and unsubstantial as what is grey dew upon what is grass before what is sun has risen, it appeals to us in some dim region of what is mind where what is laws of logic and of reason have no meaning. It acts upon our emotions or nervous where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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