Identifier: newenglandmagazi1891bost (find matches)
Title: The New England magazine
Year: 1887 (1880s)
Authors:
Subjects:
Publisher: Boston : (New England Magazine Co.)
Contributing Library: Allen County Public Library Genealogy Center
Digitizing Sponsor: Allen County Public Library Genealogy Center

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tograph one of the boyishquarrels of Enoch and Philip Ray de-scribed in the opening of the narrative : A narrow cave ran in beneath the cliff:In this the children playd at keeping house.Enoch was host one day, Philip the next.While Annie still was mistress; but at timesEnoch would hold possession for a week: This is my house and this my little wife. Mine too, said Philip, turn and turn about.When, if they quarrelld, Enoch stronger-madeWas master: then would Philip, his blue eyesAll flooded with the helpless wrath of tears.Shriek out, I hate you, Enoch, and at thisThe little wife would weep for company,And pray them not to quarrel for her sake,And say she would be little wife to both. In the picture, Enoch, having thrownhis rival, is holding him down on thebeach, and Annie, standing by, is shownin the act of interceding with her inno-cently bigamous proposal of a modusVivendi. The ocean is visible at theright, and the cliff at the left, with theaccessories of fishing nets, cordage, and
Text Appearing After Image:
PHOTOGRAPHIC HLUSTRATION OF POETRY. 91/ fragments of wreckage strewed about theshore. The types of childhood, particu-larly the two boys, might have beensomewhat more robust, not to say rough,in appearance, for they would in thatcase represent more plausibly the young-sters of an humble fishing village. Thebest point in the arrangement of thegroup is that its lines repeat the lines ofthe landscape. But the characters, be-sides being too pretty and gentle, areonly too palpably posing. There is noreal fight in the boys; no real mediationin the girl. The second illustration in Mr. Hast-ings series is much better than the first.It represents Annie, after the loss of herthird child, mourning over the emptycradle : * * But Annie, seated with her grief.Fresh from the burial of her httle one,Cared not to look on any human face,But turned her own toward the wall and wept. This is a genuine picture. The interioris rude and lowly. The heavy hewn tim-bers, dark with age; the bare plasteredwall, b

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