# The United Amateur/March 1915/Department of Public Criticism

Department of Public Criticism
The Blarney Stone for November–December is dedicated to its contributors and wholly given over to their work. “Did You Ever Go A-Flashin’?”, by Olive G. Owen, is a vivid poetical portrayal of that peculiar attraction which the angler’s art exerts on its devotees. While the whole is of high and pleasing quality, exception must be taken to the rhyming of “low” with itself at the very beginning of the poem. It may be that the second “low” is a misprint for “slow,” yet even in that case, the rhyme is scarcely allowable, since the dominant rhyming sound would still be “low”. Miss Edna von der Heide, in “The Christmas of Delsato’s Marla,” tells how an Italian thief utilized his questionable art to replace a loss in his family. “To General Villa” is a peculiar piece of verse written last summer for the purpose of defying those who had charged its author with pedantry and pomposity. It has suffered somewhat at the hands of the printer: “Intrepido” being spelled “Intropedo”, and the word “own” being dropped from the clause “your own name can’t write” in the third line of the second stanza. Also, the first of the Spanish double exclamation marks around the oath “Santa Maria” is right side up instead of inverted according to Castilian custom. Having been hastily written, the piece is wholly without merit. “Senor,” in the second line of the third stanza, is placed so that the accent must fall erroneously on the first syllable. The changes of time and revolutions have rendered the last stanza sadly out of date.
The issue is concluded with a beautiful editorial on “The Service With Love,” wherein is described the ideal spirit of brotherhood which should pervade amateur journalism. We regret the two blank pages at the back of the magazine, and wish that some talented Blarney had seen fit to adorn them with his work.
The Brooklynite for January is of unusual merit, fairly teeming with features of a well-written and substantial character.
The short story by Mrs. Carson is developed with admirable simplicity and ease; the plot not too strained, and the moral not too pragmatically forced upon the reader. The conversation, always a difficult point with amateur authors, is surprisingly natural.
Mrs. Adams’ essay on ghosts displays considerable literary knowledge, though the anecdote at the end is rather ancient for use today. We last heard it about ten years ago, with a Scotchman instead of a negro preacher as the narrator, and with the word “miracle” instead of “phenomena” as the subject.
Mr. Goodwin’s “Cinigrams” are delightful, and we expect soon to hear the author heralded as the Martial of amateur journalism. “Ford, Do Not Shake”, Mr. Goodwin’s parody on Kleiner’s “Heart, Do Not Wake”, is actually side-splitting. The metre is handled to perfection, and the humor is extremely clever.
“Consolidation”, by George Julian Houtain, is a fair example of the manner in which some of the less dignified National politicians try to cast silly aspersions on the United. The ​elaborately sarcastic phrase; “United boys and girls”, seems to please its author, since he uses it twice. There is unconscious irony in the spectacle of a National man, once a member of the nototrious old Gotham ring, preaching virtuously against the “unenviable record” of the United.
Mr. Stoddard’s brief essay, composed at a meeting of the Blue Pencil Club, is excellent, and his concluding quatrain regular and melodious. We wish, however, that he would give us some more of the serious fiction that he can write so splendidly, and which used several years ago to appear in the amateur press.
“Music Moods”, by Charles D. Isaacson, is an emotional sketch of great power and delicate artistry. Mr. Isaacson has an active imagination and a literary ability which makes his readers see very vividly the images he creates.
Mrs. Houtain’s poem shows great but as yet undeveloped talent. The repeated use of the expletive “do” in such phrases as “I do sigh", or “I pray and do pine”, mars the verse somewhat. As Pope remarked and humorously illustrated in his Essay on Criticism:
“Expletives their feeble aid DO join.”
Mr. Ayres’ jocose epic is clever and tuneful. The climax, or rather anticlimax, comes quite effectively.
Mr. Adams, in his brilliant verses entitled “Gentlemen, Please Desist", exposes in a masterly way the fatuity of our loud-mouthed peace workers. Miss Silverman’s lines on the same subject are very good, but scacely equal in keenness of wit. It is all very well to “keep industry booming”, but industry cannot take the place of military efficiency in protecting a nation against foreign aggression.
As a whole, the January Brooklynite is the best number we have yet seen.
The Coyote for March is not a revival of Ex-President Brechler’s well-known amateur journal of that name, but a semi-professional leaflet edited by Mr. William T. Harrington, a rather new recruit. The leading feature is a sensational short story by the editor, entitled “What Gambling Did”. In this tale, Mr. Harrington exhibits at least a strong ambition to write, and such energy, if well directed, may eventually make of him one of our leading authors of fiction. Just now, however, we must protest against his taste in subject and technique. His models are obviously not of the classical order, and his ideas of probability are far from unexceptionable. In developing the power of narration, it is generally best, as one of our leading amateurs lately reiterated, to discard the thought of elaborate plots und thrilling climaxes, and to begin instead with the plain and simple description of actual incidents with which the author is familiar. Lkewise, the young author may avoid improbability by composing his earliest efforts in the first person. He knows what he himself would do in certain circumstances, but he does not always know very exactly what some others might do in similar cases. Meanwhile, above all things he should read classic fiction, abstaining entirely from “Wild West Weeklies” and the like. Mr. Harrington has a taste for excitement, and would probably thrive on Scott, Cooper, or Poe. Let him read the Leather Stocking Tales if he loves pioneers and frontier life. Not until after he has acquired a familiarity with the methods of the best authors, and refined his imagination by a perusal of their works, should he make attempts at writing outside his own experience. He will then be able to produce work of a quality which would surprise him now.
We are sorry to note that the Coyote’s editorial colums are occupied by a mere condensed copy of the United’s standard recruiting circular. This space might have been filled much more profitably with brief original comments by the editor on the numerous exchanges which are listed in another part of his paper. The paid advertising and subscription price are not to be commended. Such things have no place in a truly amateur paper. But continued membership in the United will doubtless fill Mr. Harrington with the genuine amateur spirit, and cause The Coyote to become a worthy surcessor to its older namesake.
Dowdell’s Bearcat for October is a modest but very promising little paper, mostly composed of amateur notes and brief reviews. The editor has interest in his work, and fluency in his language, foundations on which a more elaborate structure may some day be erected. One feature open to criticism is Mr. Dowdell’s sudden change in his editorial column from the usual first person plural to the third person singular. It would be better to save “The Old Bear” and his interesting chat, for a separate column. The typography of Dowdell’s Bearcat is not perfect, but may be expected to improve from issue to issue.
The Emissary for July is a National paper, but contains the work of several United ​members. Of the publication itself we need not stop to speak. Mr. Reading, though only eighteen years of age, is an editor and printer of the highest grade, and has produced an issue which will be long remembered in the amateur world.
“Ausonius, the Nature-Lover”, by Edward H. Cole, is a pleasing and judicious appreciation of a later Latin poet, showing how a bard of the decaying Roman Empire approached in certain passages the spirit of modern romanticism. Mr. Cole’s translated extracts are beautifully phrased, and his comment upon the subject well exhibits his wide and careful scholarship. Articles of this quality are rarely found in the amateur press, and it will be interesting to note what effect their more frequent appearance would have upon the literary tone of the associations.
“To Sappo”, by Olive G. Owen, is a lyrical poem of much merit, yet having a defective line. Why, we wonder, did the author see fit to leave two necessary syllables out of the third line of the opening verse?
“Lamb o’ Mine”, by Dora M. Hepner, is probably the most attractive bit of verse in the magazine. The negro dialect is inimitable, and the consoling spirit of the old black “mammy” fairly radiates from the lines. Metrically, the piece is faultless, and we wish its author were a more frequent contributor to the amateur journals.
Miss von der Heide’s two poems, “The Mill Mother”, and “Greeting”, express admirably the sentiments of pathos and natural beauty, respectively. Personally, we prefer “Greeting”.
Mr. Campbell’s lines on “Huerta’s Finish” are distinctly below the usual standard of this talented writer’s work. The metre is satisfactory, but the humor is somewhat strained, and the pun in the last line based on a mispronunciation of the old Indian’s name. “Wehr-ta” is probably the correct sound, rather than “Hurt-a.”
The Inspiration for January must be judged strictly by its quality; not its quantity. Pinkney C. Grissom, a very young amateur, cheers us greatly with his article on “Smiles”, while Miss von der Heide’s microscopic story, “A Real Victory”, is indeed a literary treat. We trust that the editor’s threat of discontinuance may not be realized.
The Kansan for July reaches us at a late date through the kindness of Mr. Daas. In this magazine the Sunflower Club of Bazine makes its formal debut, being ushered into amateur society by means of a pleasing and well-written article from the pen of Miss Hoffman. The informal “Exchange Comment” is a charitable and generally delightful department, whose anonymity we rather regret. The Editorial pages are brilliant in their justification of the United’s sunny spirit, as contrasted with the Natonal’s forbidding frigidity.
The Olympian for September–February well sustains the lofty traditions of that magazine. Mr. Cole defines with considerable precision his latest editorial policy and his true attitude toward the United, revealing only the more strongly, however, his remarkable and ineradicable prejudice against our association in favor of the National. “Evening Prayer”, by Rheinhart Kleiner, is a poem of great beauty and real worth, couched in the alternating iambic pentameter and trimeter which this post seems to have made his own particular medium of expression. Mr. Kleiner is rapidly assuming a very high rank among amateur poets.
“The Public Library”, by Eloise N. Griffith, is a delightful and appreciative reminiscence of quiet hours of lettered joy.
“The Play Hour”, consisting of two clever bits of metre dedicated to a very young amateur, appears in a collection of short and sprightly pieces signed by the Senior Editor himself. It is difficult, nevertheless, to imagine the dignified Olympian Zeus as the author. Though the second of these tuneful rhymes is apparently written in the “simplified” spelling now so popular among certain amateur editors, a closer inspection reveals the fact that the spelling is merely made juvenile to suit the subject. After all, however, simplified spelling and baby-talk are but little removed from each other. The Reviewers’ Club is in this issue represented by both editors, whose criticisms are as usual just and illuminating.
Prometheus for September–November is a journal of unusual literary and artistic value, edited by our poet-laureate, Miss Olive G. Gwen. The paper well lives up to its sub-title, “A Magazine of Aspirations Dreamed into Reality.” Mr. William H. Greenfield, the honored founder of the United, claims the first page with a graceful Pindaric ode, “To My Friend”. “The Weaver of Dreams”, by Edna G. Thorne, is a strikingly well-written short ​story pervaded with a delicate pathos and expressing a beautiful Christian philosophy. George W. Macauley, continuing to concentrate his narrative powers on the Oriental tale, presents a pleasing fable of old Morrish Spain, entitled “All Ahmed and the Aqueduct”. “The Ethics of Stimulation”, by Maurice W. Moe, is an eminently sound exposition of the relative evil of coffee and alcoholic liquor as stimulants. “Partners”, by H. A. Reading, exhibits great ability on the part of its author, and is well calculated to arouse the emotions of affectionate fathers and sons.
Miss Owen’s work, scattered here and there throughout the magazine, is naturally of the very first quality. It is hard to choose between the two poems “Atthis, I Love Thee”, and “To Elizabeth Knopf”, but we incline slightly toward the former. The sketches “The Visitor” and “Some Things I Like In New York” are both delightful in their artistic simplicity.
Critically analyzed, Prometheus may be classed as one of the most varied and generally readable magazines of the season.
Red Letter Days for October is the first of an informal individual paper by George W. Macauley, representing the most purely personal phase of amateur journalism. This issue is almost completely devoted to an animated account of the “Red Letter Days” spent by Mr. Macauley last summer with the amateurs who stopped to see him while on their way to the various conventions. The author’s style is familiar and pleasing, though rather careless, and slightly marred by defects in spelling and grammar. For instance, we are told of the caution which he and Mr. Stoddard exercised in changing seats in a boat, since neither “could swim, had the boat DID the usual thing.” We are sorry that Mr. Macauley has adopted “simplified” spelling, but it is an evil in which he is by no means alone.
Red Letter Days, broadly considered, is a highly commendable paper; its simplicity and lack of affectation are alone sufficient to win general approval.
Stray Leaves for May–June is another paper which has arrived late and indirectly. In this publication we note with disapproval some evidence of pseudo-professionalism, such as a subscription rate and advertisements, but we trust that Miss Draper will ere long acquire the perfect amateur spirit. “Love Proved To Be the Master of Hate”, a short story by Frances Wood, is handicapped by its unwieldy title. “The Triumph of Love”, or some heading of equal brevity, would better suit it. Indications of immaturity are here and there perceptible, and at the very beginning there is an inexplicable mass of hyphenation. However, the tale is undeniably of considerable merit, conveying a pleasing picture of jealousy overcome.
The Editorial department might be improved by an judicious copying of the best amateur models. The reference to Anti-Suffrage and Suffrage as “two vital questions” is hardly permissible; these are the two sides of only one question.
“Thinkers”, by G. D., is really excellent as an essay, despite the awkwardness of style.
The Bermuda letter is highly interesting in its descriptions, but painfully unscholarly in its phraseology. We here behold a case of real talent obscured by want of literary polish, and hope that F. A. B., whoever he or she may be, will profit by his or her connection with the United.
Stray Leaves has great possibilities, and will doubtless prove one of the leading papers of amateur journalism in times to come.
The United Official Quarterly for January hardly lives up to the artistic standard set by the first number, though it contains much valuable matter. Herbert B. Darrow pleads very ably for the personal acknowledgement of amateur papers received, while Paul J. Campbell writes convincingly on the true value of amateur journalism. Pres. Hepner, in the concluding article, opposes with considerable vigor the Hoffman policy of issuing co-operative magazines. We are not, however, inclined entirely to agree with our executive’s conclusions. The co-operative journal is practically the only adequate medium of expression for the amateur of limited means, and most of the later journals of this class, of which the Official Quarterly is itself an example, have been of excellent quality. It is perhaps too much to expect the average President, encumbered with a host of other duties, to conduct this work, but in any event some suitable official should be delegated for that purpose. The association should not lightly abandon a policy which made the preceding administration one of the most brilliant and successful in years.
The Woodbee for January exhibits ​amateur journalism at its best. Mrs. Anne Tillery Renshaw opens the magazine with a pleasing poem, dedicated to the Woodbees, which combines simplicity of diction with regularly of metre. These decasyllabic quatrains are a decided departure from Mrs. Renshaw’s usual style, which explains the slight lack of fluency. The last line of the third stanza contains a redundant syllable, a defect which might be corrected by the removal of the article before the word “louder’, or by the poetical contraction of “sympathy” into “symp’thy”. The third line of the fourth stanza possesses only four feet. This may be an intentional shortening to give rhetorical effect, yet it mars none the less the symmetry of the verse.
“The Spiritual Significance of the Stars”, by Leo Fritter, is the leading feature of the issue. The inspiring influence of astronomical study on the cultitvated intellect is here shown to best advantage. Mr. Fritter traces the slow unfolding of celestial knowledge to the world, and points out the divinity of that mental power which enables man to discern the vastness of the universe, and to comprehend the complex principles by which it is governed. In the laws of the heavens he finds the prototype of all human laws, and the one perfect model for human institutions. Mr. Fritter’s essay is eminently worthy of a plaice among the classics of amateur journalism.
“A Morn in June”, by Harriet E. Daily, is a short and dainty poem of excellent quality, though marred by a reprehensible attempt to rhyme “grass” with “task”. As we mentioned in connection with another amateur poem, a a final consonant on one of two otherwise rhyming syllables utterly destroys the rhyme. “We Are Builders All”, by Elizabeth M. Ballou, is a graceful allegory based on the temple of Solomon. Edna Mitchell Houghton’s character sketch, “The Family Doctor”, is just and well drawn.
“A Dog for Comfort”, by Edna von der Heide, is a meritorious poem of gloomy impressiveness. We cannot quite account for the defective second line of the fourth stanza, since Miss von der Heide is so able a poetess. Perhaps it is intentional, but we wish the line were of normal decasyllabic length. “My Grandmother’s Garden”, by Ida Cochran Haughton, is a truly delightful bit of reminiscent description which deserves more than one reading. “A Little Girl’s Three Wishes", by Mrs. R. M. Moody, is entertaining in quality and correct in metre. It is a relief to behold amidst the formless cacophony of modern poetry such a regular, old-fashioned specimen of the octosyllabic couplet. “Two Little Waterwheels”, by Dora M. Hepner, is an exquisite idyllic sketch. In the second paragraph we read of a channel “damned” up by a projecting root of a tree; which somewhat surprises us, since we did not know that tree-roots are accustomed to use profane language. Perhaps the author intended to write “dammed”.
The editorlals are brief. In one of them it is stated that the paper is submitted without fear to the critics AND Eddie Cole. In view of Mr. Cole’s scholarly and conscientious critical work, we hope that no reflection upon him is there intended.
H. P. Lovecraft, Chairman, Department of Public Criticism.