New-York tribune. [volume], November 05, 1910, Page 8, Image 8

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Literary fifetvs and Criticism
A Brilliant Bock on Spain and
Her People.
QfJIET DAYS IX SPAIN. By C Posu*
I. man. >\... pp. sis. E. P. Uutton &
Co.
Here, '• gentle reader, is Spain, the
true Spam «cen through the eyes of one
•who has t<rJvcn shcrr dHight in study
lit?: th<» intimate life, the inborn traits
of Hn alien people — ami one. moreover,
wh" has tho imagination and the sym
patliy without which men study is val
ueless. Our author lias always loved
Spain, and lie writes of her like a lover,
fo^linpr all her •harm, yet not blind to
her fault*. Perhaps she appeals, he
.*nys, "because she hi the land of to
morrow and holds the gospel of never
niind."' and lie la rontent to move to
the time :i4i tune of her pulse. From
one province to another he has wan
dcrrd. taking up bis abode now here,
new there, anil making friends every
where. He lompmb the Spaniard as not
one foreigner hi ten thousand knows
him. and in mo<c captivating fashion he
rhar^.c his knowtedg* with us.
There it faitihful remembrance in
Bpnln. a rare thing anywhere. A tin
smith of Cordova, to whom he had once
raid an English sovereign met him after
an absence of many years with the. gold
piece hanging: from his watchchain and
the words "Amiga, T am rejoiced to see
you." Embracing the traveller, he held
out. the ornament and smiled, "I have
alvay* -worn this in memory of you."
The Knight of La Mancha himself, no
bss gentleman, that he was, could show
BO mere courteous kindness than do
(MM humble folk. The author was
h*p4 busy for a f«w days "shaking
hands and drinldng cafe with those
whom I had never hitherto spoken to,
■but who 'remembered seeing me be
fore.' " Ar-4 he- had not seen Cordova
tor fifteen years. Pride goes with this
faithfulness of st>n) and poverty affects
neither quality. 'One day a wizened
but pretty old dame stood at her door
relishing a email copper bowl— a diminu
tive puchero. or pipkin; the shape was
rare the material of fine tone, and I
determined to buy it. The value was
but a few pesetas; 1 offered as much,
and she said, 'We have, no bread; my
man is away looking for some; but the
bowl was my mother's.' This was no
3QOKS AND PUBLICATIONS.
Just Published
A Ne\\ Book for All
Patriotic Americans
The Intimate Life
of
Alexander
Hamilton
By His Grandson
Allan McLane Hamilton
Based chiefly upon or
iginal family letters and
other documents, many
of which have never been
published. With illustra
tions and lac-similes.
in.- m w m n i«r«:
"ft&CAtltDn't p*r*6natltjr at (• |* rovralM In
iheso documents (■= \»ry caging: mi M«>rt.
Inndmme jvsith. *ac«>r" for »<lv«m< i m.Tit : *
''.Rfhiiig arru»- officer, vivacious* ,i".l H'ii,iit.-rl In
W«V; a courtly Tuv^r: a. fncpriusi, .!<■ ;.. ii.ia -
M'- ft!<n.3; :< \rivalilo, re*6lut6 man, anjtiitioun
*.f fam,» (rat <-ar-!<«fc nf applause. Wo j,^f in
Ins private lif> tu.ho <.f that .ol<Jn^s r,f man
jit wlii.'h torn- ..f hi* bi«»*iar>l]«-i-s (4atm mn-i^
him tioiJM.tyitj!*. mn a party !«»H<ir>r. ]?<■• was fond
nf rou,|,an> ■uM lins a popular «lr on <Wa -
j-i'-n. l-.f.u C ln prints and JV. v, h books, enter
i«fn«-d hftndFrtrnHy, had tlic ta*?<>s nn«i manners
••f f) tf-ntl^nian. His house v.hi. lit* MHOfi of
Tnrfirrt nntnbl»s. ■who Fpokr. ot Will as ; chanj>
inz h«M. •I- la« office w»i< a. Iratnlno school
for Fons of -• \^st faniiiir.c In N. v York He
cay.- tr&t-ly to i ho pnor Ho looked B f — tiie
j.-i.iiihidli*- ttaro'i PtMiViea, :: hclplcer, hn
practical rr" 1 !' n«av from thr armr."
The mm VOIIK TIMES wiJB:
"Dr. Hamilton Jibs done Ills work vrrll an«l
vitu h pelf-eflacrrnent aa rar«>. an it is com
piffi.iHblr-. Pu< :i: i -i boot ■:)• smell a man.
vt-boao uiKM* Uf« «raa p**«e6 in th* j./>ar^hliglit
t>t (niblicftjr. iV-»iM har<ll> OM Many and
pvfea rkt*n*Jvr refATMtoCa t<> rmtional a6TVk < ets <
Lin ihw w used rather to illuinlrifcto . hara.
t<r thaii to untHvel tlio tangles .if liisir.ry. Non«
the ten rli^v hare a nmrkrfl historical valur,
Ktk-xI a* th»y .-I-.- upon a <oriou« Mid liith
••iio iirjtiibli-hci eut r^epODdenc*; but the author
V-<-[*-. his mala S"a! %A\\y In rl««\ Up Mi.. iv»
' •* ihr man rather than ih»* -t.-irrnu.i and
i>>» -picture 1? both ra:idM and discreet."
l»i<- XBW YORK Tltmr.VK (la.T^:
"ff» (Hamilton) lias a dunl charm, for in tl)«
•sun* ttioinptn that !>•- iot» r.^i- the h»ttrt h* stir*
Mi» int*li»rt. His ( gran6*oa in* mad* in thM
booic a mafletl but Valuable tribute 10 hif> trum-
Srj No one vho <aiv.*. for American history
■«1!1 fail to rra<l it."
A I. i :.\ A N I '1 : H HAMILTON*.
Tlir. IXUIANAPOI.SS Umm'M bay*:
"The narrative of th« tragedy "]•.- duel), liow-
CVer, mvi all lh* preceding fhai/trrs give v*
a <-J'i«- and 'ntl!,;-it.: \ii-w <•! a wise, brave.
a/linlral/1'- Kejiil^man KhOM d«>ath indeed was
untimely."
Th*- «Hl< .%<.«> IXTKK-OCEAN' »a>*:
"Th" work i« valuaMo in fio far as it ■*<->»»
|»it Ix tw> us in a way entirely f1 1 .■ fioni jw.-
t*nw ..T.'l MfT<r<'tati<>n on" <>' th** erfai mm —
*>n«3 raoK rKj«-«-I«!!y pivot churacu-re— who ma<le
our ryijmry'fi rarly hllMry."
«i€.. M.M ■-(. To*! paid $:!.*,•.'.
Charles Sender's Sons
153-157 X~X New
Fifth fi^sf)) York
Avenue \^^s City
I excuse for raising the price, rt was cvi
! dent she loved tin- tiling, but the money
was ,-i small fortune, so Mir took it and
I went off. Later 1 was overtaken by
a decrepit old man who held out his Hat
in one hand and what 1 had paid fit
the bowl in the other. I saw the situa
tion, for he said as plainly as possible
'Here is my money; I want my bowl.' 1
asked, 'Why?' 'It is not possible that we
sell it: it whs her mother's.' .The duty
was plain. 1 Rave him back the bowl
and let him keep the money; and frit
I had had a good day." There is no j
other country in the world in which :
poverty is so little a matter for humili- j
ation. Spain, the traveller says, is « '
land of patches. "Any one may wear a
patch and suffer no social declension;
all the poor are patched. in infinite i
shapes, sizes, and colors. In the towns !
are pawnshops containing piles of pieces \
of material of all color?, and the rule,
is to make a. bargain as regards their
size and strength." The result of the
incongruous Mixtures of colors and text
ures is sometimes positively fascinating
»in its fantasticality.
The Spaniards continue to be the most \
abstemious of people as regards food and
drink. They talk much of those good
things, but eat and drink little. Coffee
they will drink whenever they can get
It — that they are as intemperate as
scantily supplied pockets will permit.
The general belief that Spain reeks of
garlic is contradicted by this writer,
who declares that he has travelled for
months without tasting or scenting this
generous vegetable, and he. has often
i been unable to obtain it in large towns,
i Meat is so dear that the common people
make a little go a long way amid a
i stew of vegetables. The very poor find
I substitutes in olive oil and codfish; and
they have, we are told, a real faculty
I for cooking, making the very best use
: possible of whatever materials are avail
able. The disciples of Fletcher will ap
prove of the Spanish habit of eating
very slowly: but a multitude of health
preachers will lament that other habit
of drinking quantities of water before
and during the meal. In the most dis
tinguished society, as in the Orient, it
is a mark of attention to be fed from
the fingers of host or hostess As for
, punctuality— The Spanish cook
| promises everything, and there an end.
; "I have often had my breakfast no late
as to think it an early dinner." says
Luffman. "and my dinner so far into the
night as to regard it as an early break
\ fast." The Spaniard endures this with
! marvellous patience, absolutely without.
' remonstrance, in spite of the fact that
j he hath a keen temper and a never quit*.
I satisfied hunger.
The Spaniards are shockingly underfed,
and when they get enough in quantity it
jis often of an unsubstantial nature. It
is to this shortness of far* that one must
| look to their attitude toward eating and
I drinking. Nationally there is never enough
1 and tho greater number are perpetually
jon short commons. And this is no new
situation; it has existed for centuries and
' there :s no evidence to encourage the hope
j that there can be any lasting improvement.
j Out of all this long-lived poverty has
i arisen a sort of philosophic restraint and
a positive repugnance to complaining or
| fvt'ii to feeling suih an absurd thing as
hunger. To want food is a eiKii o" the
lowest vulgarity; to boast of a superfluity
where there is none is a yign of good
breeding, and be sure the Spaniard would
Ibe well-bred. Thus one sees only the
poorest peasant and the tramp plead for
food or express the fact that he is hungry.
In the crowd all are well off. It would
be lowering to hint at poverty: it would be
a mistake not to mention that the excess
of good fare makes life a burden! As out
. siders we discern and laugh at this boast.
| but only for a (line, for we come to see
that there is wisdom in boasting. It is
' justified by the calm and the simplicity it
I gives to life. "Busy" people almost hate
j the Spaniard for his sublime indifference,
: whilst if he had steam he would hate them
| for their mad concern. He will not have
I any concern. Ho says "Todas es Mismo" —
\ nil is tiie same. He is nearer to China in
| his thoughts and attitude toward life than
the Frenchman or Englishman who are at
his elbow.
Feminine beauty, we gather from
these, chapters, docs not puffer from
these short commons and Is hot con
lined t<» any one class. In some regions
the, peasant girls are the loveliest; In
other:* it Is the daughter of the shop
keeper. The. harsh and uncultivated
voice of the Spanish woman is a thin?
which disturbs the unprejudiced ob
server. Quiet speech is not polite, and
good voices are spoiled by strain which
ends in making them masculine in depth.
The Spanish woman, the average woman,
is far from intellectual; she is, in the
opinion of the author, a striking example
of what may be accomplished In the
way of securing regard without the cx
! ercise of much brain. Housekeeping In
Spain is an easy thing. There are no
tires and ho carpets and no ornaments,
and the furniture is scanty. The floors j
of stone, brick, marble or tiles are well
'swept but never scrubbed. The women
have a. passion for whitewashing. The,
few small windows are sedOßl cleaned.
"The only house." says Mr. Luffman, "in
j winch I thought there was enough light
wan at a blind asylum at Tividavo!"
There arc various quaint sketches in
this volume of women, acquaintances or
landladies, who took a friendly or cu
rious interest In the foreigner, ami none
is more amusing than that of old Maria,
| who kept house for him on the Vega of
Malaga. She was an incredible mixture
of culinary skill, dirt, greed and pride,
and had no more humor than a stone.
There is a glimpse «'i the ancient dame
; hero which it would be hard to match.
; 1 had two knickrrliocker suit's or soft brown
; flminel and In an unguarded moment I loM
! Maria «h© should 1 aw them the day I left.
H<*re waa a rtll^mlna! Sh»- did not want
,me to go. and if 1 stayed long the gar
ment:? would bo worn out! So she schemed
and appealed to my vanity. There wet*
ink stains and other spots which would not
cobm out in the wash. Bom* Harts were
getting threadbare, and patches were, un
becoming to a eahallero. H<:r appeals were
bo freq lent that I pave her on* suit. She
; put It on mi mice and appeared before me.
Shades of Bonnie Scotland. 1 had never seen
anything like this! Maria evermore went
about the hour* and the hills outside,
: « hen looking for h«r sweet herbs, as my
double! Honestly, 1 grew almost to hate
! myself, for 1 was always wondering if th*
difference in my height and ona or two
minor details could make me look any less
absurd than Maria.
We will not offer the reader more
passages from this beguiling book
which, if he is wise, he will not fail to
keep on his shelf when once devoured.
Full of humor, of shrewdness, of vivid
poetry, of a red-blooded humanity, it is
not a, work which is to be forgotten.
Seeing that Shakespeare spent the
most active twenty-live years of his lif>-
In London, Mr. Kidney Lee holds that
the name "Swan of Avon" Ik a mis
nomer. He thinks it would ho much
more accurate to call the poet the "K\ an
of Thames." H«* has Just been lecturing
on the horribly filthy London of Shake-
Bpeare'fl time, a city which then waa
never free from typhus. Ho. pointed out
the sad. effect upon the .poet's livelihood
of this filth and the consequent plague;
all the theatres were closed whenever
the deaths within the city walls were
more than thirty a week. The great
Fire of London did away with Shake
ffEW-YORK DAILY TRIBUNE, SAIVHDAY. NOVEMBER 5, W°
speAre's haunts. "Wo ll vo In a London
that Shakespeare neither know nor con
ceived." paid Dr. Leo, "but wo have still
the Middle Temple Hall, where 'Twelfth
Night' was originally performed, and
Ofay's Inn, where 'The Comedy of Kr
rors' was produced.'
AN AMERICAN POET
A Biography of Louise Chandler
Moulton.
l.cri^K in \\ii!,Kß .MXWI/TON: Poet
and lriond. By Lillian Whltinpr. With
portraits and facsimile*, ttrrio, pp. 231.
((.it tie. Brown & Co.)
Not for many a year to come will the
history of nineteenth century literature,
in the United States be written. The de
tached point of view in contemporary
critical biography is and has ever been
as rare a« genius, and mankind must
turn to time for perspective. Meanwhile
a goodly body of memoirs is accumulat
ing, and that careful historian of the
future will have no lack of material.
Another useful contribution to the mass
is this record of the life of an interest
ing and much admired woman and
writer of verse. It is the work of an
affectionate friend, an elegiac tribute,
whose sincerity deserves respect.
Longtime readers of The Tribune will
remember the vogue of Mrs. Moulton's
literary letters from Boston. They were
written at a time when there, were lit
erary personages at the Hub who evoked
a natural enthusiasm. These letters,
with some agreeable chronicles of travel
and various works of fiction, done in the
sentimental vein of the 4O's, comprise
Mrs. Moulton's prose productions. It is
chiefly for her verse that she will be re
membered—verse which has much love
liness of feeling and an uncommon per
fection of form. It was ever most musi
cal, most melancholy. That melancholy
was Inherent in this child of the Puri
tans, as her biographer justly points out,
and it was unalterable, It must be con
fessed that it sometimes blinded her
countrymen to the genuine beauty of her
i poems. Her foreign critics, even those
most prejudiced against American au
thorship, cordially recognized their deli
cate workmanship and their . pathetic
grace.
Many of their writer's later days were
spent abroad, and she knew most of the
authors of her time. There are to be
found in this volume various entertain
ing descriptions and anecdotes, though
not bo many as we might have expected
to find. There is a characteristic glimpse
of George Meredith, whom she often met.
His talk, she said, "is like his books, It
is so scintillating, so epigrammatic. In
talking with him you have to be swiftly
attentive or you will miss some allusion
or witticism and seem disreputably in
attentive." In reference to his poem
"Modern Love" Meredith once wrote to
her: "This poem has been more roundly
abused than any other of my much casti
gated troop. You help me to think that
they are not born offenders, antipa
thetic to the human mind. Americans
who first gave me a reputation for the
writing of novels will perhaps ultimately
take part in the admission that I can
write verse. They may thus carry a re
luctant consent in England, when I no
longer send out my rhyming note for re
vision. I have been taught, at least, to
set no store upon English opinion in such
matters. I would thank you, but grati
tude is out of place. There is a feeling
hard to verbalize."
Thomas Hardy she described as the
possessor of a forehead "so large and
tine that it seems to be half his face.
His blue eyes are kindly, but they are
extremely shrewd. You feel that he sees
everything, and that because he would
always understand he would always for
give. I have always heard him called
the shyest man In London, but he never
impressed me so." sin- thought that no
one could know him and not like him.
"He is sympathetic, genial, unaffected,
altogether delightful; somewhat pessi
mistic, to bo sure, and with a vein of
sadness- a minor chord In his psalm of
life, but nil the same with a keen sense
of fun." At Hardy's own house, one day,
, the American guest quoted to her host
some pleasant tilings that had been said
about him by a Boston admirer:
Mr. Hardy listened kindly and then he
said: "What you my is a consolation just
now." l knew some good fun lurked be
hind the quaint humor of his smile. "Why
just now." i asked. "Oh, I dined two
nights ago at the house of a Member of
Parliament, it w.is by way of being a
political dinner; but as -Tc^' whs just out,
one and another Spoke of it -kindly enough.
Finally, uno lady, two or threo seats away
from me, leaned forward. Her clear voice
commanded every one's attention. 'Well,
Mr. Hardy,' she said, 'these people are
complaining that you had Teas banged in
tho last Chapter of your book. That, is ii.it
what I complain of. T complain because
you did not have all your characters
hanged, for they all deserved It!' Don't
you think. Mrs. Moulton, that after that I
ncod consolation from somewhere?"'
George Eliot did not seem to Mrs.
Moulton an uncommonly plain person,
and she described the Englishwoman in
terms which may surprise those who are
accustomed to consider her .-is having
been painfully unattractive: "To me
she seemed to have a singularly inter
estSngr face and a lovely smile, and one
distinctive trait, one peculiarly her own.
was a very gentle and sweet deference
Of manner. In any difference of opinion
she always bejran hy agreeing with the
person with whom she was conversing
as 'I quite see that, but don't you
think'— and then there would follow a
statement so supremely convincing, so
comprehensive, so true, so sweetly sug
gestive that one could not help being
convinced. It was like a fair mist over
a background of the greatest strength."
Mrs. Moulton used often to repeat a
story of Mrs. Carlyle once told to her
by Lady Ashburton. An eloquent out
burst by the philosopher had won for
him the thanks of all his fellow-guests
at the Ashburtons -from all except his
wife. Lady Ashburton impulsively be
sought the wife to Speak to — "only
gee how he ha« moved them!" "Ah,
yes," said Mrs. Carlyle, "but they don't
have to live with him."
THE LUCAS TOUCH
Further Essays in the Art of the
Anthologist.
THJD SECOND POBT. A Companion to
"Thi Uentlest Art" By X v. Lucas.
lUiTso. pp. xi, SM. Tlio Macuilllan < \>m
paay.
Prefixed to "The Second Tost" there is
a list of other books by Mr. Lucas,
novels, essays, volumes of travel, stories
for children nnd— anthologies. Obvi
ously he is a versatile man. But ho is
never more original than when he la
making books out of what other men
have written, and In saying this we
offer him no backhanded compliment.
On the contrary, it is warm praise, sin
cerely placed at his disposal, for the truth
Is that compilation, as he practises it, is
an art by itself. There is no touch
Quito like tho Lucas touch. In thls C^. "
ond series of delightful letters he *""
again p. positively miraculous instin j
not simply for quotation, but ft* ■"*
rfingemont. When he selects the rig >»
gem he puts it in the right place, « lvins
it the right setting. The very title P*l
bears evidence of his delicate inpcnuli
Nothing could be happier for the name
of a companion volume to "The Gent
Art"' than "The Second Post." and br "
neath those perfectly chosen words he
inscribes these: "It's all very veil to
talk of your Beethoven* and Mozarts.
Very good in their war. no" doubt. P nt
for the music that counts give me the
double knock."
The thing that makes Mr. Ltaeai »*
felicitous could not quite accurately I
described as taste, though he has plenty
of that precious quality. Tt is. rather.
sentiment, his qukk response to human
feeling, his natural love for the gWeH
and wholesome things of life. Take, for
example, the opening note, so to pay, of
this collection, a note of that tenderness
which age has for youth. Tic could not
have hit upon a more beguiling l-l pa
than that of showing us the epistolary
art in its most unselfish phase. His first
letter Is a little gem of mingled affection
and humor from Sydney Smith to a
young friend, and then We have Lander
and his son, Arnold, ex- hanging mis
sives. The poet's loving kindness al
most brings tears to the reader's eyes.
"We must quote at least part of his let
ter to his boy:
I shall never be quite happy until I sea
you ngain and put my cheek upon your
head. Tell mv sweet Julie that if I see
twenty little girls I will not romp with any
of them before I romp with her; and kiss
your two dear brothers for me. You must
always love them as much as I love you,
and you must teach them how to bs good
boys, which I cannot do as well as you can.
God preserve and bless you. my own Ar
nold! My heart beats as if it would fly to
you. my own fierce creature. We shall very
soon meet. Love your . BABBO.
But Mr. Lucas is not the man to harp
upon one string. In the diversity of his
anthological style lies much of its charm.
In the second division we mix with his
travellers, listening while Shelley de
scribes to Peacock his life at Leghorn
or Dickens sends hews of America to
his American friend Folton, and then
we pass on to "Adonais Garrolous, '
which is to say to a sheaf of the letters
of Keats. Is not the Lucas touch a
magical key to the unlocking of unex
pected pleasures? After Keats comes
"our English Omar," and after him, very
aptly, Charles Lamb. But the anthol
ogist does not need the ease of that
transition to work out all the steps in
his epistolary progress. It is with all
the matter-of-factness in the world that
he introduces us, in due course, to Mme.
de Sevigne, and afterward to Carlyle
and his wife. So down to- the end his
linked sweetness is cunningly harmo
nized. On nearly every page there is
something which one would like to
quote. Candor, by the way, must yield
us another treasure, one in the chapter
of "Laconics," which is not only a joy in
itself, but comes in piquant contrast
after tho passage cited above. Writing
to Lord Normandby, who had cut him,
he says:
My Lord: Now I am recovering from an
illness of several months' duration, aggra
vated no little by your lordship's rude re
ception of me at the Cascine. in presence
of my family and Innumerable Florentines
I must remind you in the gentlest terms or
the occurrence.
We are both of us old men, my lord, and
are versing on decrepitude and imbecility.
Else my note might De more- energetic. *I
am not unobservant of distinctions. You
by the favour of a minister are Marquis of
Normanby, I by the grace of God am
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
It is odd, by the way. that Mr. Lucas,
eagled-cyed Autolycus that he is. should
not have discovered for this chapter one
of the neatest of all laconic corre
spondence. When Quin, the noted old
actor, heard that hip. friend Rich, actor
and manager, too, was opening a. house
In London, he felt that all he needed to
do in order to get an engagement was
to write. "Dear Rich. I am at Rath.
J. Quin." Back came this reply. "Dear
Quin. Stay there and be damned. J.
Rich." Still, there are numerous brill
iant examples of the same terseness col
lected by Mr. Lucas. Here is one on
the heroic plane, in Captain Walton's
historic report to Admiral Byng:
Sir' We have taken and destroyed all the.
Spanish nhipp and vessels which were upon
the coast, the number as per margin. I
ant. etc., (J. WALTON.
Taken— Admiral Marl and four men-of
war, of a>. i"», 40 and 24 gun*: a ship laden
with arms and a bomb vessel. Burnt —
Four men-of-war, of 54. 40 and 30 gun*, a
lire ship and a bomb vessel.
"Canterbury," off Byracuss, Aug. 16, lTts.
Following that there la but one flash
of genius to choose, the inquiry made, by
a commercial traveller after a boister
ous absence from work, "Dear Finn: Am
I still with you?"
FICTION
New Stories, Lon# and Short,
American and English.
Till', JUSTICE OF GIDEON. A book of
short stories. By Eleanor Gates. )2mo,
pp. 343. New York: The Maeaulay Com
pany.
This collection of a b;iUcr's dozen of
short stories has one valuable quality:
It is readable from first to last. They
are. not the average stories turned out
mechanically in untold numbers from
month to month to supply an insatiable,
constantly recurring demand, nut tales
well planned and well written, their
dramatis persona) well sketched, their
plots clearly united to their background,
which, In most of thorn. Is California.
Not strikingly original. which is all but
Impossible after the careful winnowing
of the Pacific state by our writers of
fiction, they turn to best account our
familiarity with the region and its peo
ple gained from them, offering us at
least .still another angle of vision and
glances of nooks and corners well worth
exploring more than once. Thero are a
couple of animal tales, and, of course,
another couple of th« Chinaman among
us. Tho book Is a good companion.
Each of these tale*, begun at random,
will keep the leisurely reader engaged
until the denouement is reached.
THE SOUTH IN TRANSITION.
THE SCOURGE. A novel of the New
South. By Warrlngton Dawson. 12mo,
pp. 384. Boston: Small, May nurd & Co.
Mr. Dawson's new novel is a continua
tion of his earlier book, "The Soar." not
as fiction, since all its characters nre
new, but as a study of. later stage of
the social and economic transformation
of the New South, in the early 5M)"n.
The picture is not si pleasant one-, apart
from material rehabilitation and prog
ress. In the foreground stand tho new -
comers from the North, no ties of blood.
sentiment or tradition binding them to
the boil; the men of gigantic energy who
conjure up success where the natives
have acquiesced in ruin. The local
aristocracy" continues to play its game
of make-believe leadership, clinging to
tho fetish of birth that never yet suf
ficed to maintain it without efficiency.
The story is uneven In quality, striklnß
,In parts as a study of hat is already
receding into thft ,ist. hut somewhat
arbitrarily nml „,K trlv put together as
fiction.
ADVENTURE IN THE 18TH CENTURY
HE \v'';K rnF: fr\Rnrsr>N *• ™*- '■
■''-*»•= niuMratM and decorated > : '
colors b y Frank T. Merrill. 12mo. ri'
""• (Boston: L. C. Pago A- Co.)
T h« author of "Hell-Firo Harrison"
1 ■•'■■- •' Bi>rightl> way with him. Tli« talc
is Ilk" a gay cockade stuck saucily in
the three-cornered hat of an eighteenth
century adventurer. It smacks of fas*
less gallantry, of that blithely reckless
spirit which taught the King's young
courtiers to fight their battles with equal
deadlines and grace. In this case th
hero is an English younger son, turned
Virginian, and. when the book opens, on
a visit to his native land. He is a con
summate swordsman, and when pres
ently there Is need of his blade in the
clearing up of a situation involving a
lovely maiden he uses his skill with
sublime thoroughness and even sublimer
aplomb. Brave Master Gerald Harrison
is indeed a likable man of his hands-
Likable, too, for its own sake, is the
brief narrative in which Mr. Wattles has
exhibited his hero's character and
prowess. He is prodigiously clever, with
his rapid movement, his appropriately
brisk dialogue and his faculty for hit
ting off a dramatic incident casually and
neatly, with no laboring of a. single
point. Altogether this is an artistic bit
of work, well deserving the colored illus
trations and the decorative borders with
which It Is presented.
PA FLICKINGER'S DAUGHTER.
OPAL. By BessleT*. Hoover. Illustrates"
12mo, pp. 331. Harper .v Bro?.
This continuation of the chronicle of
the simple fortunes of "pa Flio.klnger's
Folks" does not altogether escape the
fate of most sequels: it is not quite so
good as the original book. There M
here less of the sympathetic understand
ing, the kindly humor, that gave it. l's
vogue, and more photographic Mattssl
in the presentation of the depressing
material side of poverty, and of uncouth
speech. It is, perhaps, because the
Flickinger family is growing older, but
then, again, this is the tale of Opafa
romance of love's first dawning. Grad
uated from high school, the girl hns
roused in her mother's heart the. ambi
tion of making hSV I schoolteacher,
wherefore marriage is out of the ques
tion. The girl herself begins to see the
primitiveness of her surroundings, the
lack of manners in the family, and of
cultured talk, and seeks to improve
them. Truth to tell. Pa Flickiiiierer. not
Opal, for whom the 6tory is named, is
its most attractive character, lovable
even though he holds that "dictionary
words" are meant to be written, not
spoken, and insists on eating fruit with
a steel knife, and refuses to wear his
coat in the evening after h lifetime of
shirtsleeves. Th<* impression of close
first hand observation remains, and the
deftness of delineating and differentiat
ing individualities ttt the primitive
speech of their environment, but — the
attractive atmosphere of the flrgt book
is missing.
MURDER AND MYSTERY.
THE PATKRNOPTER RfBY. By Charles
Kdmonds Walk. Five illustrations in
color by J. V. Me Fall. 12mo. pp. 374.
Chicago: A. C. MuClurg & Co.
«
It almost appears to be easier to write
a new detective story than to say some
thing new about it after it has been
published. The fundamental ingredients
remain always the same: a crime, whose
motive cannot be discerned, several sus
pects who are proved to be innocent, and
finally the real criminal, tracked by the
detective. Also, there is a little, or even
a great deal, of love more or less "on
the side." to employ a convivial profes
sional term, understanded of most of us.
In tho case of precious Ptones It Is also
customary to bring a band of dark
skinned men from the ends of Ind. Mr.
Walk is faithful to the formula, but he
combines and shakes up tho ingredient;*
in a manner sufficiently novel to carry
the reader to the very end, which passes
beyond the criminal to a disclosure re
garding the cause of it. A detective
novel i«i a puzzle. Oncft It is solved the
interest ceases. "The Paternoster Rtfhy* 1
Is an ingenious one.
A DETERMINED ENGLISH WOMAN.
tut: SECOND ki/ipkmknt. By Herbert
Flowerdew. 12m0., pp. :>2O. Brentano's.
A popular young English novelist
rashly enters upon a real adventure
when he pays the fare to London of a
penniless young girl, who gives him a
gold locket as pledge for the loan. Being
an artist, and not a hard headed man
of business, he Interests himself in the
young girl's plight, and discovers sev
eral curious things, among them that
she cannot tell him her true name, anil
also that, whereas she Is evidently ac
customed to unlimited expenditure of
money, Hhe is not accustomed to spend
ing it herself: that, in fact, she knows
nothing: of values. A lady of quality, he
perceives this almost as soon as the
leader himself, in fact, almost a princess
Pripcilla who has stolen away from the
ancestral mansion to avoid a hated mar
riage in an exalted atmosphere. The
novelist endeavors to Induce the girl to
return to her father, but she refuses,
whereupon he engages her as his type
writer. Henceforth the- adventure* be
gin to come thick and fast. The ador
able creature disappear*, ana immedi
ately afterward the minions from the
rnrifled social atmosphere track her to
the lodgings from which she ha* flown.
Ho finds her again adrift In London;
sh»> disappears a second time, and ever
the romance between them grows. An
amusing story, in which love finds the
way.
ONCE MORE— ROMANCE.
JEIIANNR OF THE GOLDEN LIPS. By
Frances G. Know Ips- Foster 12tn0., pp.
811. The John Lane Company. "
It is a brave medieval romance that
Mrs. Foster has woven around the life
of Jehannc of Naples, her child mar
riage to Andrea of Hungary and her
cubsequent wooing by Louis of Taranto.
She had brave material to work upon, in
the age of the flowering of chivalry and
minstrelsy, but also of unscrupulous I*°"
litical intrigue, yet this does not detract
from the merit of the use that she lias
made of it all. Painstakingly historical,
she allows herself but on*' departure
from the chronicled facts, and confesses
to this in a prefatory not.- Her author
ities she introduces skilfully, among
them, of four*, Petrarch, ami is* '"•">
afies cleverly to gj Ye us a glimpse of
Boccaccio in the setting that nts him
best, in an Italian garden, surrounded
by knights and ladies exercising his
gift. The mad adventure of L«' ulh and
his madcap sister, disguised »s wander
ing street singers, is handled ulth all
the dash the episode demands and de
■•**•■. Our enthusiasm for historical
romance has \v uneil considerably, but in
this case the enduring m?rlt of the
genre is demonstrated anew.
BOOKS AND PUBLICATIONS.
True lover and brave adventurer, his escapes
are thriliingly exciting; mystery surrounds him
with a veil of fascination. /
More baffling than Raffles, more searching
than Sherlock Holmes, more compelling than
The Leavenworth Case, The Social Bucanccr is
Monarch of Modern Mysteries
■ IllustraUd by Kin? Th- BOBBS-MERRILL CO.. Publishers A all Star a %
BOOKS FOR BOYS
Tales of Ventures on Sea and
Land and in the Air.
To th« wide realm of adventure which
furnishes the material for so large a
proportion of our boys' books there has
been added a third element, that of the
air, but sea and land valiantly hold
their own. A trio of exceptionally good
stories of the deep may be selected
wherewith to open this survey of the
season's output. Norman Duncan's
"Billy Topsail and Company" %F. H.
Revell Company) is a worthy successor
to the first volume devoted to the ad
ventures of that engaging personage.
about whom many boys will be glad to
hear again. Mr. Duncan has chosen a
rich field, that of the Newfoundland
coast, and he knows it and its people
thoroughly. He need not invent, he
only has to tell facts, after arranging
them and connecting them in a con
tinuous narrative. It is the realism of
his books that grips, the grip being- felt
also by older readers, a sure test of the
quality of a boys' book.
The south shore of Long Island, the
fishermen of the Great South Bay and
the lifesaving stations along the sandy
coast strip furnish the scenes of "Rulers
of the Surf" (D. Appleton & Co.). in
which Mr. J. W. Muller, who is, we be
lieve, a newcomer in juvenile literature,
attractively conveys a prudent modicum
of information wrapped up in plenty of
action. Deep sea sailormen are not
lacking on this part of our coast, and
the author gives them their share in the
story, which is sure to interest boys.
Ralph D. Paine's "Cadet of the Black
Star Line" (Charles Scribner's Sons),
discovers soon enough that as much sea
manship is needed aboard an ocean liner
as on an oltltime clipper ship, and that
steam has not killed the romance of the
deep. He begins to distinguish himself
almost in the first chapter, proving his
courage by volunteering for the lifeboat
when a wreck is sighted in a stormy sea.
Thereafter he is sealed to his profession,
as well he may. Among his minor ad
ventures is a. midnight encounter with
tobacco smugglers while on duty In port.
An entertaining and mainly chap.
Now for some adventures ashore. Up
to the very hour is Mr. Lane Grey with
"Tho Young Forester" (Harper & Bros.)
( -.min-n'-l on ninth pHjiv
BOOKS AND PUBLICATIONS.
Tales of Men and hosts
Contains all the Stories writ
ten in the last few years
By Edith Wharton
Says the New York Sun: —
"Never before has she shown such sureness in execu
tion." "It is a remarkable collection of stories which
the reader of culture will enjoy, for in the flood of
modern books, even good ones, literary quality such as
.Mrs. Wharton\s shows is almost unknown/
Says the New York Globe: —
"You will go far before you will find a better ghost
story than K\is. Here is the horror of Poe and the
psychological mystery told with the same terrible
lucidity and classical purity of language.*'
$1.50
Charles Scribner's /T_^\ 153-57 Fifth Avenue
Sons V=4P/ New York
PRIMITIVE PSYCHOTHERAPY
AND QUACKERY
BY „
ROBERT MEANS LAWRENCE, M.D.
AUTHOR OF -THE MAGIC OF THE HORSESHOE." ETC
AIIISTQRICAL survey of the so-called "magical remedies" of
olden times— such as medical amulets and charms— showing
that they are in reality the forerunners of modern psychical
medicine. Dr. Lawrence has sbfighjfto emphasize the fact that the
efficiency of many primitive therapeutic methods, and the success of
charlatanry, are to he attributed to mental influenced
•W $2.00 net. Postage, 17 cents
Bo P S ton,Mas e s HOUSTON MIFFLIN CO. Lv^orfcity =
HARE BOOKS A PRINTS IN J EUROPE.
<» A I -Oh-PRiM .gjQoKS •
r\ WHITE M n: can , t you .... ever
published on any subject. Th* ,„„ . ,xix>rt
book nmter extant. When \n En B i™ i »nTnd
.c« my 800.000 rara books. n\k £ p-b or EAT
HOOK SHOP. John nrt B ht "^n^,,^^
lawyers""" "
Mi: AU.EN fcAUUTHEH>» — r^^^vr-P?
TUB ItKMOVAL. OK UisTII Af^9&»jm
b'ookl and publications.
ASOCIAL
BUCAMER
&T FREDERIC
fSISHAM
SI SHAM
Author of
Half a Chance
Under the Rose, ctc.wmmm
LATEST THING IN PIRITES
Clever New York Society Thief
Robs for Chari'y
There's a new kind of pirate afloat fi»
New York. He can put it all over Cap
tain Kidd. Henry Morgan ln his palm
iest days could not hold a randle to him.
Neither could J. Pterpont. H* can skat*
figures of eight around Lafltte and the
Beef Barons. He's the prize pirate up
to date.
H. Chatfleld Bruce is his name and
the captivating thing about him is that,
being a pirate, he should be also a gen
tleman and a philanthropist. He roba
only from the most benevolent motives.
He steals not from the poor, because
that would be a crime, Indeed. His
booty ia gracefully lifted from the male
factors of great wealth and doled out
with equal grace to the poor but honest.
He listens 10 the pleadings of the Ladies
of the Charity Boards. He gives his
promise for whatever they want. Mora
than likely he hasn't the money at th*
time, but he knows a way to sret it.
Fifty thousand at a clip is a mere bag o*
shells to him.
Air. Bruce!" the Board Lady will say.
"The very person I wanted to see: Good
news! We have raised the necessary
amount.'
H. Chatfield will listen with his air of
bored indifference. M'
"You remember. Mr. Bruce, you
pledged $T."».«XK> toward raising our new
buildings, provided we could raise a Ilka
sum. We have realized that happy con
tingency."
"And the time clause to my offer. 1
Mr. Bruce will drawl.
"Does not expire until next week. \\ *
can depend upon you?"
He picks out some gorged plutocrat
and deoides that the poor dear settle
ment kids must be shoed and stockinged
out of his predatory wealth. If it's
bonds— good! If it's cash, better! If
it's pearls os Mrs. Plutocrat, pearls an*
his specialty! He turns the trick ami
keeps bis <lat»> with the Charity La»li*>>.
and Shoes and stockings are plentiful
on the East Side, and the pursy male
factors groan in pain.
Why don't they capture H. Chatfieia
and make him strike his black flasr? You
ask why? Th^ answer M obvious, as
you would know if you only kept up t>»
date In your reading. He's only a char
acter in a book, the popular book of tho
l lour _ Frederic £. Isham's rousing new
story. "The Social Bucaneer." The or
iginality of ins conception has made a
tremendous stir and excited all kinds of
comment Ten thousand New York
children went snipperless to hr la^t
Bight— all be*.— pe their mothers wora
j:lue«l to the thrilling Will si "The So
cial Bucaneer." ■
RESTAURANTS. _____
SHAN LEY'S
Announce Opening of Ilirir >rw Restaurant*
BROADWAY
43rd Street — 44th Street.
TIU'KSIVW. NOVKHItKIi SI!D.
TYPEWRITING AND TYPEWRITERS.
VJCTOH VISIBLE; 7!> Nassau St.; cai&lotuia
tree; all makes taken »part payment: barsatn*
In Underwoods. Kemlnstons. OHvtrs. Smith*.