The evening times., 1895-08-10
THOSE WHO WRITE.

The novel which s. R. Crockett is writing
has for a hero a Highlander exiled in Hol-
land, and rs to be called ''Lochtnvar."
George Du Maurier has finished the first
chapter of a ne book, which, IL is said,
Will be q love story.
Prof. Dana used to say that as soon as a
book embodying the latest results OF geology
Is off tie press IL is out of date.
Alphonse Daudet's opinion of Mr. II. n
Stanley: He Is the largest reservoir of hu-
man energy known to me since Napoleon.
l admire him. think, more than anything
in the world"
Barthelemy ST. Hilaire, who is ninety
years of age, viii soon publish two thick
octave volumes on Victor Cousins philos
ophy. The celebrated translator OF Aris-
tOtle Is out OF doors every morning at g.
The Shakespearean Is ne V monthly mag
azine edited by Librarian A. H Wall, of
the Shakespeare memorial at Stratford-on-
Avon. He begins ne " life OF Shakes
peare. A series is also inaugurated of bi-
ographies of famous Shakespearean play
ers.
Bran Stoker. pleasantly known in Boston
as Henry Irving's manager, has followed
up his warm appreciation of la u MacLaren
by himself writing an Aberdonian story,
WATERS Mou"
The author of "Coin'' Is coming money
by the sale of his pamphlet He is said to be
making $500 day out of IL a nd seems to
have hit upon a financial system which is
perfectly satisfactory, as far as he is per-
sonally concerned
William Morris is almost the only one
left of the original pre-Raphaelites. He
is now In his 61st year. His poems are less
widely known than his relation to textile
manufactures, glass and bookmaking. A
reflection in some measure of the type Of
which Leonardo da vinci and Michael
Angelo are still higher exemplars, his
sense of beauty has been carried into every
thing hand or pen has touched His twin
muses., the one of literature, the other Of
practical arts, have worked in happy sister,
hood for more shan a generation.
B. W. Yeats, the young Irish poet, is
mentioned as reminding one of Stevenson.
He wears a scarlet eafh and sombrero in
the streets Of Dublin and has a ."tall,
wollowy frame, with the tint in his cheeks
of the wild olive" And If you stop in the
street this mixture of the olive and the
willow with question as to the weather
behold! he will "dreamily spin you a fable
out of the Celtic twilight or reel off sad
toned sonnet"
The novelist, Pierre Zaccone, whose death
at Morlaix, in his seyeIty-ninth year, has
been reported, was the son of an Italian
officer in Napoleon's army, and was born
at Douai. He was one of those feuilletonists
Of whom nobody ever spoke, though his
name was constantly at the ends of feuille
tons and he made far more money than any
illustrious author. He could at few hours
notice, begin a serial novel ana furnish the
exact quantity of words wanted day by day.
William Watson's new and comparatively
long poem, which has not yet reached us,
but notices of which appear in the English
papers, is highly praised by the Spectator
The poem is entitled, Hymn to the Sea-"
The Spectator says: There is not a line
in it which is not great line.
In this noble poem, mistermed a hymn, but
all the more wonderful for the purely
imaginative character of its sp,endor, we
are greatly mista ken If all competent
critics will rot recognize at last that we
have among us another of the really great
masters of English song"