Birmingham state herald., 1896-02-02

| commentator asks: "Is this excellent
 saintis to be the object of the compul- 1 sory attention of the American public 9 i and further asks, "Will not some one tell
 us where these waves of enthusiasm start, and whether their simultaneous
 appearance on many sides is the result 1, of accident or conspiracy?'
 
 1 The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyain is
 rendered into English verse by Edward | Fitzgerald.
 There is one edition with full page il-
 lustrations from designs by Elihu Ved- | dler which commands the high price of | $25. The same not illustrated comes more | moderate.
 Omar Khayyain was an astronomer poet of Persia, born in the latter half of 1 the eleventh century. He was a tent maker by profession, though he attained | eminence as scientist. In the preface | we read: Though the sultan 'showered l favors upon him. Omar's epcurean au- | dacity of thought and speech caused him | to be regarded askance in his own t.me | and country. Having failed of finding | any providence but destiny, and any l world but this, he set about making the | most of it' This "Rubaiyat' is inde- pendent stanzas, consisting each of four | lines of equal, though varied, prosody, sometimes all rhyming, but oftener the | third line a blank. Grave and gay thoughts are intermingled and the chief characteristic seems to be to drink and make merry" for instance the following, that may have some meaning for the present:
 Some for the glories of this world; and Sigh for the prophets paradise to come: An. take the cash and let the credit go,... Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum!' The next is but one of many that pleads for the cup:
 "Ah, my beloved, fill the cup that clears
 Today of past regret and future fears: Tomorrow! Why tomorrow l may be Myself with yesterdays sev'n thousand years"
 For a purer thought, listen again: The worldly hope men set their hearts upon
 Turns ashes-or 1t prospers and anon, Like snow upon the deserts dusty face, Lighting little hour or two-was gone" It was a surprise to know that the work is in the twenty-fourth edition.
 
 A recent article tells of Manxland or the Isle of Man, which all the reading world Is interested In now as having been made familiar by Hall Caine, and also from the fact that that it is his home. Douglas is the principal town, and it Is often said one is surprised at the beauty and variety of the place. Tourists from Great Britain go there for an outing. Quite a handsome, massive old castle is Greeba castle, the home of Hall Caine, picturesquely situated at the foot of great hill. The old adage that "No man is a prophet in his own co1ntry' will not hold good in the case of Mir Caine, for the Manx people adore him and are very proud of him. His slender figure, a trihe below the medium height his long. curling, auburn hair and beard, the pale face with it's sensi- tive mouth, and the large, bright eyes are very familiar to the people of Dou- glas."
 Of himself MT. Caine has said: q was educated to be an architect, but even in those youthful days I cared rather more for literature, and began to lecture on literary topics. I was particularly fond of talking about Shakespeare. Dante Rosetti heard me lecture, and was apparently pleased, for he invited me to his home, great barn of a house in and write and walk in the 'desolate gar den." st
 The comedy editions of "Harper's Little Novels" seems to be adapted peculiarly to the stories of James Lane Allen. the Kentucky writer, who must surely have won even the worldly and. cynical heart by his lovely story, "A Kentucky Cardi- nal" MT. Lane may justly claim to be an apostle of the great Audubon, so pure and earnest Is his love of nature; and delicate and permeating flavor of the u subtle aroma, every page of his works.
 Aftermath" Is announced as part sec-s ond of"A Kentucky Cardinal" and most readers will be charmed, I know, to hear once more in MT. Lanes own charming way of Sylvia. the stately Georgiana, gossiping Mrs. Walters; and though the cardinal was brought to an untimely end in part one we learn in part two of his ignominious end. In the following lines may be gleaned the lovers idea of Georgiana: M
 T think of Georgiana as the single peach on tree in season when they are rarest. Not very large peach, and scarcely yet yielding blush to the sun, although it's long summer heat is on the wane; growing high in the air and at the end of bough and clustered about by it's shining leaves. But what beauty, purity, freshness! You must hunt to find it and climb to reach it; but when you get it you get it all-there is not trace left for another. But Sylvia! I am afraid Sylvia is like big bunch of grapes that hangs low above public pathway; each passer-by reaches up and takes a grape.
 To justify this metaphor MT. Lane then relates how he had caught some one taking a grape few evenings before a sort of green grape; here we have del- icate touchings and colorings that prove the authors nearness to humanity, it's foibles and failings, as when he says: "A mans conversation may be his own; his conduct may vibrate with the extinct movements of his ancestors" For a graphic touch showing his love of the country read this: T dwell on the out skirts of the town and of humanity. On the side of them lay the sour land of my prose; the country nature, rolled away on the other as the sweet deep ocean of my poetry. I called my neighbors my manifestations of prose; my doings with the townspeople prose passages" But it is impossible to quote a line or two and not spoil the charm of the running thought as 1t ripples across the easy flowing page. Humor? Oh yes. plenty of 1t; but dainty and like will-o'-the- wisp. alighting here and there and call