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We quoted a short time ago the story about them an element of probability, of a clergyman who left his sermon but we fail to see what purpose is at his manse and set the congregation served by dishing up such stories as to work on the hundred and nineteenth the following of a clergyman whose psalm while he galloped off to fetch dog emulated the achievements of it. Inquiring how they were progress- Newton's "Fido" and tore and deing on his return, “They've got to the voured some leaves of his master's sereend of the eighty-fourth verse," he was mon. The parson had to take duty for informed, "an they're just cheepin' a neighbor, and fearing lest his mulike wee mice.” Mr. Ditchfield has an tilated sermon should have appeared equally good anecdote of a parish clerk too short, be consulted the clerk. "Was who was secretary to the races com- my sermon too long, to-day?" he asked. mittee and was wont to hurry out of "Nay," was the reply. “Then was it church to attend their meetings. This too short?” “Nay, you was jist about came to the knowledge of the rector right." Much relieved, the parson conand he prepared a very lengthy ser fided to the clerk the story of the dog's mon, to be delivered on a day on which misdemeanors. The clerk scratched the committee met. The first half-hour his face solemnly, and then: "Ah, maispassed, then the clerk began to get ter," he said, "our parson be a grade restless. Another half-hour went by sight too long to plaise we. Would you and the clerk looked up anxiously; but just gie him a pup?" The story is obthe rector was "getting set." At last, viously an invention, and it is not even finding that it was too late to attend "a fond thing vainly invented.” Jolly the meeting, our worthy aquabajalus Absolon, in the course of many hunresigned himself to the inevitable. The dred years of activity, surely could sermon over, he rose with a broad have provided sufficient matter for an sinile on his face and gave out: “The interestiug book. It was scarcely fair ’undred and nineteenth Psalm from of Mr. Ditchfield to label the volume yend to yend. He's preached all day before us “The Parish Clerk." It is and we'll sing all neet."

little more than a scrap-book. The anecdotes we have quoted have The Academy.

BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

of his later years, when he was on terms of intimacy with Carlyle and Tennyson. Messrs. Macmillan will be the publishers.

De Quincey's “Reminiscences of the English Lakes and the Lake Poets"; Lockhart's fine and kindly Life of Robert Burns; and The Shorter Poems of William Wordsworth, with an Introduction by Ernest Rhys, the general editor of the series, are among the lat. est issues in "Everyman's Library."

An autobiographical fragment left by William Allingbam has been edited for production by Mrs. Allingham and Mrs. Ernest Radford. It covers only the period of early childhood and a portion

The nine stories which Eliza Calvert Hall gathers into a volume called "Aunt Jane of Kentucky" give pictures of the rural life of a generation ago as seen through the shrewd but kindly eyes of an old woman. They vary in theme and quality from "The Baptizing at Kittle Creek," which is little better than broad farce, to "Mary Andrews' Dinner-Party" which shows posing forms of modern thought the a touch of tragic power. In different book is notable among recent novels. vein still are “Aunt Jane's Album," a As a story it is decidedly above the charming study of the old-time patch- average. The scene shifts from Edinwork quilt with its associations, and burgh and the Scottish moors to Rome, “The Gardens of Memory," where the then to the forests of Portugal; the quaint reminiscences are called up by student-group offers a variety of chara stroll between flower-beds. Little, acters; the feminine interest is supBrown & Co.

plied by the pretty daughter of a pros

perous Non-conformist deacon, a rich Vasari is one of the many delightful young woman doing philanthropic authors in whom time has destroyed work along independent lines, and an man's faith, and this is a great pity actress; the plot is intricate enough to because his falsity is often so much hold the interest to the end; and the more picturesque and brilliant than the style is brilliant and forcible. Henry truth, and one can wish the uncritical Holt & Co. reader in search of simple enjoyment nothing better than to believe every Particulars are now announced of the word of E. Seeley's "Stories of the Ital. Cambridge History of English Literaian Artists from Vasari.” The trans- ture, which is to follow the plan of the lation is crystalline in its clearness; Cambridge Modern History. The the colored plates are excellent, partly work will be published in fourteen because they do not attempt to be bril- volumes of about four hundred and lient, and many of the half tones are a) fifty pages each, and will cover the most startling in their reproduction of whole of English literature from Beoexpression and sentiment. The vol. wulf to the end of the Victorian age. ume is tastefully bound and no more As in the Cambridge Modern History delightful gift book could be desired. each chapter will be the work of a (E. P. Dutton & Co.)

writer specially familiar with the sub

ject, and the History will give a con"Full of human stuff,” says the re- nected account of the successive moveviewer of "Punch,” of “Growth," the ments, both main and subsidiary, new novel by the clever writer who treating minor writers adequately and signs herself "Graham Travers” but not allowing them to be overshadowed whose friends know her as Margaret by a few great personalities. Vol. i. Todd, M.D. A study of religious types will cover the period from the origin and influences as encountered by a to Chaucer, vol. ii. from Chaucer to young student at the University of the Renaissance, vol. iii. Elizabetban Edinburgh, the portraits of Agnostic, poetry and prose, vols, iv. and v. ElizNon-conformist, Anglican and Roman abethan and Jacobean drama, vol. vi. ist all show such skilful touches that Jacobean poetry and prose, vol. vii, the it is not easy to tell where the artist's Caroline age, vol. viii. the age of own sympathy may lie, though it Dryden, vol. ix. the age of Swift and might be at either of the two extremes. Pope, vol. x. the rise of the novel, vol. The reader who looks for some trend xi. the earlier Georgian age, vol. xii. of positive conviction will be disap- the Romantic revival, and vols. xiii. pointed, but as a presentation of op- and xiv. the Victorian age.

SEVENTH SERIES
VOLUME XXXV.)

No. 3280 May 18, 1907.

FROM BEGINNING

Vol. COLIII.

1. II.

III.

IV. v.

VI.

CONTENTS.
Is Literature Dying? By Herbert Paul. CONTEMPORARY REVIEW 387
Some London Children at Play. By Rose M. Bradley. . . .

NINETEENTH CENTURY AND AFTER 395
The Enemy's Camp. Chapters X and XI. (To be continued) .

MACMILLAN'S MAGAZINE 408 The Folk-Lore of the County Court. By Judge Parry. . .

CORNHILL MAGAZINE 414 Old Galway Life: Further Recollections. .

Blackwood's MAGAZINE 420
The Sheraton Settee. By Godfrey J. Franks. . . . . .

PALL MALL MAGAZINE 431
Ripening Issues of American Democracy. . . . NATION
Bird Life at the Land's End. By W. II. Hudson. . . .

SATURDAY REVIEW 438
The Retirement of Lord Cromer. . . . . OUTLOOK 441
The Changelessness of Character. . . . . SPECTATOR 443
Words to Conjure With. .

. . OUTLOOK 445

A PAGE OF VERSE
May in the Meadow. By Florence M. Bradford. . .

386 For Dark-Fear. By J. Marjoram.

386 The Big 'Roos' Feeding-Ground. By M. Forrest. . .

386 BOOKS AND AUTHORS . . . . . . . . . 447

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And the dolly-men in card-houses

dream, Whate'er she whispers them--that

they see;
... But waking, never they catch a

gleam
Of such moonlit unreality.

MAY IN THE MEADOW Morning and May in the meadow! Whirring of wings in the wood! Thronging of tall tree shadows

In wildest, wantonest mood Athwart the sun-kissed pathways!

Shadows that sweep them away! And big brown bees, loud buzzing,

Whose work is to worship the day!
Morning and May in the meadow,

Whirring of wings overhead,
And a white, white butterfly, silent,--
Wings, whiteness and wonder out.
spread!

Florence M. Bradford.

But, oh! 'tis comfort from dusk to

dawn, All dread's dispersed by the breath

of her, So light, that over the dewy lawn Daffodils quiver, but no birds stir.

J. Marjoram.

THE BIG 'ROOS' FEEDING

GROUND.

In the heart of the timbered country, FOR DARK-FEAR.

where the boles of the trees show This moonlit garden looms so strange

white, That under the half-transparent Where long leaves flicker above the dark

grass in the hush of a moonless All forms of things familiar charge

night, To toy-shapes from some huge Where the mitchell grass grows rank Noah's Ark.

and lush, and the sweetest herbs

are found, The trees stand flat as of paper made, Lies the grassy sweep of the promised And through pin-pricked holes in a

land, and the big 'roos'' feedingpainted screen,

ground. With a match behind and the room in

They steal thro' the red-gum ranges, shade, The street lamps flicker and dance

and they fly past the splitters between.

camp,

They cross down by the shallow crossFor if with finger and thumb you

ing, and they circle the quaking went

swamp. To that spire cut from a picture.

And they stand for a inoment, front

paws raised, bright brown eyes book,

glancing round, Or that thin-edged castle battlement,

Then off again, with a thudding tail, They'd tear, I know, by their brittle

go the 'roos to their feedinglook.

ground. Aul small in great distance-I des

And the men from the Survey hear clare

them, as they beat past the low The valley's naught but a saucerful

white tent, (A wide-lipped saucer in greenish

And the pigeons wake in the iron ware)

bark, where the great dark Of mist, thin-shredded, like cotton

boughs are bent, wool.

And ere the peak of the topmost hill

by the eye of the dawn is found, And the Spirit of Sleep is a little child, They will take their fill of the grass A drowsy child that holds its hands

and shrub in the big 'roos' feed('lasps the world, and is reconciled

ing-ground. And, dreaming. murmur's of fairy *

M. Forrest, lands,

1 Roos kangaroos,

IS LITERATURE DYING ?

To say that the age of literature was spiritual element in man has decayed. dead would be to parody Burke, and Suppose that a miracle happened and to caricature the truth. Yet it must that another Shakespeare arose tostrike the most superficial observer morrow. Is it certain that he would that great writers disappear and leave not be recognized for what he was? no worthy successors behind them. If In the history of English literature the this were merely an accident, it would reign of Anne is often coupled with hardly be worth considering. Just be the later years of Elizabeth for literfore Spenser, and not long before ary renown, although the opening of Shakespeare, began to write, Sir Philip the eighteenth century was materialSidney lamented the decease of poetry, istic enough. There was not much as if it were final. But I suppose no romance in Swift and Pope, or even one will deny that the twentieth cen- in Addison and Steele. There was, to tury, so far as it has gone, is in the be sure, no vulgarity. Bigness was old sense of words unimaginative, pre- not mistaken for greatness. There ferring facts to fancies, and exalting was no sensual idolatry of mere size. substance over form. Of course, I do Perhaps there is not room in the same not mean or wish to suggest that lit world for the German Emperor and a erature is mere style, though even so man of genius. That singular missionexquisite a critic as Matthew Arnold ary of empire seems to crush sentiseems to have fallen into that paradox ment with his mailed fist as Hercules when he glorified Bolingbroke. The strangled serpents in his cradle. He Elizabethan age, like the Augustan, is the Philistine incarnate, and the Sowas teeming with thought and splen- cialists had no David to send against did in action. As anger makes verse. him. Impervious to ridicule, and blind and rage supplies arms, so ideas will to notions, he stands for the crassness find expression for themselves, while of unidealized prosperity. no mastery of expression can fill the The eighteenth century has been place of ideas. The decline of litera- called the age of reason, and reason ture cannot be due to any want of saved it. The greatest Bishop of the verbal clothing. It must be connected English Church (for Berkeley was of with some phase, permanent or the Irish) said boldly that by reason ephemeral, of the human mind. Ma alone could man judge even of revelaterialism is a good, mouth-filling word, tion itself. Whether reason was deupon which any one in search of an stroyed by the Christian revelation, or explanation may seize. What, it by tbe French Revolution, or whether might be asked, can you expect of a it still lurks in the recesses of obscure generation which speaks of the Brit- minds, no one would now call it a ish flag as an "asset"? Who would formidable enemy either to literature now reject even a small portion of the or to anything else. Laudatur etalget. world for fear of losing his own soul? At least the second verb is appropriate. But we must not confound the mag. Ours is not the intellectual materialnitude of wealth with the worship ofism of Hume and Gibbon. It is the it. Because there are more million repudiation of other than material aires than there ever have been be tests, the cult of the obvious, the defore, we must not assume that the mand for large profits and quick re

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