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done,” he reflects glory on B, to whom, like a liberal gentleman, he gives the credit (B would have told it so if he had the wit) and he amuses C.

The fact is that a story well told is nearer the truth, the absolute truth, than a shambling statement of what a man has seen. If not exactly as it was, that is how it ought to have been. It used to be narrated of a late bishop that in the schools at Oxford the examiners fell foul of a word he used as “Not Greek.” He replied that “If not, it ought to be.” The examiners considered the plea, admitted it, and he

emerged triumphant. That story is rather suspect to some. Compliance of that kind sounds more like a tutor than the schools examiners. So the story descended however. Would it be any better if the precisian by “poring” discovered the exact facts ?

And there is another point the precisian forgets. No sane person takes opinions, gossip or stories without pecks of salt. So pickled they are quite innocuous, and give pleasure to many. Either let us all turn Trappists or leave us our little infidelities.

The Saturday Review.


People who are merely vaguely It will be remembered that Miss Palaware that there is a great deal of frey is the daughter of the abolitiondisturbance,-political, social, indus- ist and historian, John Gorham Palfrey, trial and moral-in the air, and who and that his actual life furnished her do not know what it is all about will the central action and idea of her find Walter Lippmann's "A Preface to "Herman, or Young Knighthood," but Politics" enlightening, even if more or her book deserves reading for its less alarming. The author's views are own sake, and should have a cordial radical and extremely disturbing to reception from young and old, from the mood of easy complacency; and those who like wit, patriotism or he has a very pungent way of express- pathos couched in vivacious rhyme. ing them. It may not be necessary W. B. Clarke Company. to accept his conclusions; but few alert readers can fail to be interested In Miss Kate F. Kimball's "An En. in the facts on which he bases them glish Cathedral Journey” (Thomas Y. and the processes by which he reaches Crowell Company) visitors to England them. Mitchell Kennerley, New York. will find a pocket companion at once

comprehensive, authoritative and fasMiss Sarah Hammond Palfrey, who cinating. The author writes with enin her "Katharine Morne" gave that thusiasm and from a fulness of inperfect definition of a gentlewoman, formation gained by wide study and one who "never forgets herself and close observation. She is not content never remembers herself" and


with mere description, but she treats pended two very good portraits, by her subject from the historical point way of description, is now, at the age of view as well as the architectural, of ninety years, publishing a pretty and she leaves upon the reader's mind little volume entitled "Harvest Home," a vivid impression of all that the and containing some fifty pieces noble structures which she describes grave, gay, patriotic and satirical. stand for and the influence they have


had in shaping the thought and guiding the aspirations of the English people. The eight largest and most famous cathedrals,-Canterbury, Roch. ester, Lincoln, Durham, Ely, Salisbury, Litchfield and York,-together with Westminster Abbey, are described in detail, and seventy or eighty illustrations enhance both the value and attractiveness of the book, and give it a strong appeal to stay. at-home readers as well as to travellers.

possible, at least to buy roots, seeds, bulbs, and young plants, and bear them home in triumph. Her heroine, in “The Midsummer Wooing,” the fair gardener, Judith Greenslip, has а pleasant way of making any unprotected man whom she may meet do the bearing, and discovers that the American rustic is accustomed to put such services in his bill. A gently edifying old invalid; a genial minister enjoying a vacation among the fruit and flowers with which he has transformed an abandoned farm; an invaluable rich aunt, capable of sending fat checks in garden emergencies; and a pair of lovers not too loving to have eyes for leaves and flowers are among the company with which Judith surrounds herself. Floral borders, initials, tail-pieces and a florally illumi. nated title-page with four colored pic. tures by Mr. John Goss beautify the volume. Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.

Those to whom Manhattanese is an offence should avoid Mr. Louis Joseph Vance's "The Day of Days," for, although the author is perfectly competent to write the President's American and the King's English he prefers the tongue best understood in Manhattan. It must be owned that he makes it more diverting than the pure vernacular, as the clipped and tortured French of the Boulevards is more diverting than the exquisitely accented French of a cloistered nun, but in the end, it masters him. But Mr. Vance's story is excellent fooling and its plain, unvarnished tale of some ugly blots on the face of Manhattan civilization is very effective, and may have salutary effect in educating public opinion. His hero should be compared with the London clerk exhibited by Miss May Sinclair in her “The Combined Maze," for the two are kindred souls although of different races, and entirely unlike in body. The American story is briefer and less serious than the English but it loses nothing by the comparison. Little, Brown & Co.

That the woman who marries for the sake of a million or any number of millions makes a mistake destructive to her happiness may be taken as proved, but Miss Kate Jordan in her “The Creeping Tides" has created a novel couple to demonstrate the pro. cess. That the woman who marries a handsome scoundrel ensures herself a certain period of misery may also be taken as proved, but, side by side with her first couple, she sets a scoundrel and his wife and her sincere, honorable, soldier-lover, and when one bas permitted himself to contemplate them for a few pages, one does not leave the remainder of the story unTead. The book carries a small moral to the effect that acts apparently cowardly should be very carefully examined before they are condemned: and readers, both military and civilian. will find themselves asking whether a real history may not be concealed beneath the apparent fiction. The

Miss Mary E. Stone Bassett is one of those enthusiastic flower-lovers who cannot dwell upon the beauty of a garden and the delightful incidents in its history without impelling her readers to go forth and plant something, or, if time and place make that im

theatre of the story, a Greenwich occasional phrases from Virgil, a Village, New York, shabby lodging- venial offence in Tudor and in Stuart house, still showing signs of former days. The appendix gives the probsober splendor, is presented with much able date of printing the text as the detail, and no exaggeration of any Folio of 1623, and adds the list of kind. The reader may find it pleasant, emendations adopted by the Camwhen he comes to the end of the story, bridge editors, and their suggestion to make a calculation determining the that the Folio may have been printed name of the President who plays the from the author's original manuscript. god from the car at the decisive in

About twelve pages, giving citations stant. Little, Brown & Co.

from some thirty authorities, are given

to the date of composition, twice The latest volume of “A New as many as to the source of the plot: Variorum Edition of Shakespeare" and about thirty to passages taken "The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar," is in- from various writers who

have scribed “In Memoriam" by its editor, summed up the characters of Cæsar Horace Howard Furness, Jr., with and of Brutus. Under the head of the proud but melancholy line from "criticisms" may be found French, "Henry VI,” “Methinks, 'tis prize English, and German opinion, and enough to be his son." Dedication among them Voltaire's judgment, unmore felicitous is unimaginable, but rivalled as a piece of misunderstandthe closing paragraph of the preface ing. The English division of the heightens its effect, and must be "Stage History of the Play” begins quoted: "My most just and severe with Betterton, at the Theatre Royal, &lbeit, my most tender-critic has in 1684; the American division, with passed beyond my inadequate words the record of a performance at Charlesof gratitude. He to whom I owe the ton, S. C., in 1774, and gives little deepest obligations, the inspiration of space to any but those in which actors all my work, is no longer by my side of especial eminence have taken part. with ever-ready help and never-failing In the section treating of “dramatic and invaluable counsel. The rest is versions” of Cæsar's career, are a full silence." The contents of this im- account of Chapman's "Cæsar and posing new volume of 480 pages in- Pompey," and brief descriptions of clude not only the "tragedie,” wbich, Muret's "Julius Cæsar" and Grévin's with its array of footnotes, occupies “Cæsar." Daniel's work and that of the 278 pages, but also “The Tragedy of Cowden-Clarkes are summarized unJulius Cæsar," by Sir William Alex- der the head of “Time Analysis," and ander, Earl of Sterline, published in with this ends the book. Sixty-eight 1607, and here reprinted from its final editions by various hands are cited and authorized version of 1637. This in the textual notes, and so closely gives the reader so disposed an op- Las space been economized that by portunity to divert himself with the ingenious devices the necessity of odious comparison, both of methods naming single books every time that and of matter, for the Earl was not they are quoted is obviated and arbicontent with basing his drama on trary signs indicate the attitude of North's Plutarch, but incorporated critics towards one another. To put with it part of the substance of a it briefly, this single volume gives its tragedy of Jules Grévin, whose play owner all the advantages which he was founded on the Latin of Muret, could derive from a great library. J. and further enriched his text with B. Lippincott Company.

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The Death of Satire. By Herman Scheffauer.




No. 3601 July 12, 1913



The Changing of the Balance of Power. By J. Ellis Barker.

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Chapter XI. By Alice Perrin. (To be continued.)



Thomas Hardy. By Charles Whibley.




Opium: An Unsettled Question. By Theodore Cooke Taylor.

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The Wind. By Frances Tyrrell-Gill
The Bed. By Sandys Wason.






FOR SIX DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, THE LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage, to any part of the United States. To Canada the postage is 50 cents per annum.

Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office or express money order if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, express and money orders should be made payable to the order of THE LIVING AGE Co.

Single Copies of THE LIVING AGE, 15 cents.

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They ride upon the wind at night,

And on the stirrups of the dawnThe souls of whom he would have

sight, The souls from whom he is with

drawn, They parley with him at the gate, He calls them friend, he claims them

kin, But still his hearth is desolate,

And still they may not enter in. For one walks by him night and day, With silver voice and beckoning

eyes; Ever sbe leads him far away,

From where the key of entrance lies. He cannot choose, he cannot choose

But follow in her rainbow track; He can but weep such joy to lose,

He can but look with longing back. And where she leads he knows too

well, The stones, the loneliness, the dark; But hers is the eternal spellThe viewless goal, the unshot mark.

V. H. Friedlaender. The Academy.

When the earth breathes fast at the

dawn of the year, As she feels the step of Persephone

near; And sweet, and soft, with a fond ca

ress, We waken the flowers from their

dream of sleep; And the birds at our song begin to

pair. Yet the wild storm cry, the strain and

the stress Of recurring tides, bring the sense of

the deep, First rush of things when we were there!

Frances Tyrrell-Gil. The Fortnightly Review.

THE WIND. A wide green space, and an open sky! And the world is only the wind and I, As we fly together over the grass, That sings in its joy to hear us pass. For the runnels are fresh all over the

land, And the tremulous grey gives place to

the blue That the first of her flowers may find

their way From the underworld to the light of

dayHer violets sweet and her snowdrops

white. Now the sea has a whisper'd word for

the sand, For each moment the world is made

anew, And the meadows are all astir to the

light; But we, we were there when the world

was plann'd. For once, ere I came into mortal form, The wind and I, we were brothers. In


THE BED. (Le Lit. De Hérédia.") Hung though it be with linen or

brocade, Sad as a tomb or joyful as a nest, Here man is born, here mated, here

takes rest, Babe, husband, grandsire, grandam,

wife or maid. Be it for bridal or for burial sprayed Under black crucifix or palm-branch

blest, From the first dawn till the last can

dle drest, Here all things made beginning, end

ing made. Low, rustic, shuttered proud of

a pavilion Victorious in gold-leaf and vermilion, Hewn from brute oak, —cypress or

sycamore Happy who lies without remorse or

dread In the paternal bed, immense and

hoar, Where all his folk are born, where all lie dead.

Sandys Wason. The Saturday Review.

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