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“One of the most delightful and fascinating little books with which we have met for a long time. It is a rare pleasure to come across anything so fresh and brilliant. … A literary treat is presented in this most clever and striking little volume. We can fancy with what a thorough sense of enjoyment poor Mortimer Collins would have turned over these pages, and how Mr- Robinson’s graphic sketches of the ways of birds and the growth of trees would have appealed to Charles Kingsley. It is certainly a striking illustration of the old story, ‘Eyes and No Eyes.’ His style is particularly happy, and there is a freshness of tone about his whole book which raises it far above the ordinary level. … It has been reserved for Mr. Robinson to open this new field of literature to English readers; and we hope that his venture may meet with the success which it deserves, so that the present volume may prove but the first of a long and delightful series. …” — John Bull.

“This is a charming volume. … In his style we are reminded frequently of Charles Lamb. … The book has an antique flavor, like the quaint style of Elia; and, like Lamb, Mr. Robinson has evidently made an affectionate acquaintance with some of our early humorists. That he is himself a humorist, and looks at Indian life with a mirthfulness sometimes closely allied to pathos, is the characteristic which is likely first to strike the reader. But he will observe, too, that if Mr. Robinson describes birds, flowers, trees, and insects with the pen of the humorist rather than of the naturalist, it is not because he has failed to note the common objects in his Indian garden with the patient observation of a man of science. The attraction of a book like this will be more easily felt than described; and, just as there are persons unable to enjoy the fragrance of certain flowers or the taste of certain choice wines, it is possible Mr. Robinson’s brightly-written pages may not prove universally attractive. Readers who enjoy them at all will enjoy them thoroughly. … It would be impossible to convey the full flavor of this distinctly marked volume without extracting freely from its pages. The sketches are so full of freshness and vivacity that the reader, sitting under an English roof, will be able for the moment to see what the writer saw, and to feel what he felt.” — The Pall Mall Gazette.

“This book is simply charming. … A perfect mine of entertaining and unique information. … An exquisite literary style, supplementing rare powers of observation; moreover, the resources of a cultivated intellect are brought into play as well as those of a delicate and fertile fancy. The distinguishing characteristic of these charming trifles is perhaps leisureliness, yet something of the quaint grace of our olden writers clings to Mr. Robinson’s periods. … Mr. Robinson, in short, is one of those few authors who have found their precise métier, and can therefore write so as to entrance his readers.” — The Whitehall Review.

“A delightful little book is ‘My Indian Garden,’ in which an Ariglo-Indian sketches, with a delicacy, grace, and humor that are unflagging and irresistible, some aspects of outdoor life in India which have hitherto, for the most part, escaped the observation of writers on that wonderful land. … As an observer of natural history, he is scarcely inferior to Gilbert White, while he has a capacity for recognizing and bringing out the ludicrous aspect of a subject that was denied to the dear old recluse of Selborne, and the literary charm of the book will be apparent to all. Mr. Robinson quaintly mingles shrewd observation of the manners and customs of the creatures he portrays with quizzical and metaphysical speculation. It has been said that Mark Twain’s ‘New Pilgrim’s Progress,’ with all its drollery, is about the best and most informatory tourist’s hand-book for the Holy Land in existence. Just in the same way Mr. Robinson’s ‘Noah’s Ark’ is the best possible companion for a visitor to the London Zoological Gardens. Our author has an unerring eye for the ludicrous aspect of things; he pokes fun remorselessly at all animated nature, from the elephant to the mosquito; but amid the play of his humor there are many touches of real pathos, snatches of powerful description, and a great deal of solid information. …” — Edinburgh Scotsman.

“It is not given to many writers in these days to produce a book, small or large, which shall not in some degree remind the omnivorous reader of many other books, either by reason of its subject-matter, or its mode of treatment, or of both. Mr. Robinson’s ‘In my Indian Garden,’ however, fairly establishes for its author a claim to this rare distinction. A fancy open to all the quaint, humorous, old