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 Rackham’s industry, as revealed by Mr. Frederick Coykendall’s list,—which does not include occasional drawings,—has been quite stupendous, and it is extraordinary that his spontaneity, fancy and sense of beauty have never become stale. Not only does he always enter completely into the spirit of an author, but his whimsical imagination is always introducing happy original details into his interpretations and adding marginal improvisations. No better examples of sympathetic collaboration by artist and author need be mentioned than Rackham’s drawings for Barrie’s delicious works, or for Washington Irving’s immortal Rip Van Winkle. It is also pleasant to find that even after he is regarded as a master of his particular genre, Rackham remains a modest, conscientious student, and there are quantities of sketch books filled with studies from nature for all his finished works. Numberless drawings of exquisite hands, dancing feet, gossamer rainbow-coloured wings, twinkling eyes and twisted wrinkled noses, gnarled roots and branches, buds and blossoms, rocks and clouds,—often executed with the meticulous precision of a German engraver,—fill his notebooks and explain the delicacy and facility of his hand. His fertility is merely another