Hardy Review 17

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them but brevity will ever
be the soul of wit and religion
too, we believe. The book seems
not as if written fiction, but
rather as if a dumb man,
with the eye of a seer, led
us out into a sacred hill-
top, and pointed reverently
to mountain, crag, meadows,
the sea, sky, infinities of
might, and vanished. The
strength of the book drives
one to the belief in his man's power
to choose however the fine spun