The sun., 1897-11-27

watch Der thy sleep, and the night winds moan,
my love. my own; while tho moons loving
CLEANS shine down on thy dreams and the old
year is dying and the hours swiftly flying Just
as they have respectively flown and gloamed
and moaned and dreamed through the pages of
! generations OF versiners, and they will con-
tinue to DO rs long pens and ink and paper
are procurable. But 1t is in the stanzas entitled
Alone" that this poet makes her most lugu:
brious contribution to tho gayety Of nations:
| Alone tonight. and without thee.
My life moan OF despair.
No friends. the four " alls about mo
Resound with my agonized prayer.
The hours rush by in their furry.
The night haste with Its WOO,
Each milestone is passed in times hurry
And gloom nestles closer and low.
Next comes Mr.. Lucius Harwood Foote, q
| singer from San Francisco, whose volume On
| the Heights is gorgeous in Its wealth of mar
gins, rough edged paper. antique type and orna-
| mental initial lettering. Tho number Of typo
! graphical errors is remarkable. 1t must be try
ing to the feelings OF the poet to find "De Pro
funds" twice masquerading as DE Pro-
| fundus." and in one impassioncd passage q row
| of cleaning pixies transformed into row Of
| cleaning peaks while In another place,
| In silence all. around pail.
The matches watch beside the dead.
These minor matters would not be worth
mention but for tho fact that this is q limited
| edition. OF which each volume Is signed by the
author and bears this pompous inscription:
so There Endeth On The Heights Volume OF
| Verse. by Lucius Harwood Footo, done into
| Book by Me, Elbert Hubbard, at tho Roycroft
| Printing Shop, which is IN East Aurora, n. Y"
| The formidable list of errata on the last
| page would seem to suggest that, after the
| turned herself loose in the Roycrott Printing
| Shop, which Is in East Aurora, N. Y. Mr.. Foote
ranges over q wide field. from essays in old
| ballad form to limitations of the Oriental and
! translations from Heine and Theophile Gautier.
But he. too, is gnawed by tho canker worm of
melancholy and breaks out here and there in
cheerful reflections ruch these, which occur
in poem with the subtitle. IAN Episode OF tho
Morgue':
I am tired OF tho bcker and banter of life,
am tired OF its serfdom and thrail.
tired Of the stress and the strain and the strife
am tired OF II all.
| Now this is all very serious-and something
| should certainly be done aboutit Perhaps some
philanthropist might be induced to establish q
| retreat for melancholy versfers. Here they
| could be put on system Of limited diet and regu-
lar exercise, with light recreation in the form
| OF a series OF sermons by the Rev. Dr. Hepworth,
| and readings from the works Of Ian Maclaron.
| Miss Marie Corelli and Mr.. Richard Harding
| Davis 1t is more than probable that month
| or SO of this treatment would a them to return
to earth with the conviction that this old world
| OF ours Is not half SO bad place as 1t might be-
In Man in Epigram" "a. G. McClurg & co.,
Mr. Frederick w. Norton has compiled q vol
ume wherein man may SEQ what women and
some others think of him-for here are collected
many of the views OF maids, wives. Widows
and some othor amateurs and professionals !"
One of the most volumnous contributors Is
Miss Marie Corelli. and ii is scarcely necessary
to say that, in this young woman's opinion, man
is mighty poor sort of creature at his best.
Says she
Ipersonally consider that q woman who shows the
force Of her intellect to be respected than
woman who shows the force OF her legs. But men
alwa ways prefer the legs.
OF course, to this 1t might be replied that 1t
depends a good deal upon the quality of tho in
tellect and-well-of the other things. But here
she goes again:
Men skuk and fawn about you, and lie twenty
times in many hours in tho hope to propitate you
and serve their own interests.
And again:
Mans rolly mans utter solnshness. mans cruelty
keep him thus exiled outcast from pardon and
peace.
And. just to show that she is absolutely I'M
partial In distributing her favors:
The idlcncss wickedncss. extravaganza and selfish.
ness Of women make the Doors and egotists they
| are.
Hero is n pathetic cri du ceur from NJ. lie
Gollicnne. who, as ho is neither maid. wife, nor
widow, presumably comes under the heading of
"othcr Amateurs and Professionals:
Aman OF thirty. bast. and fed from my youth
upon the honeycomb Of woman!
Tho Wreath OF Eve" IF. Tennyson Neely)
is littlo book in which Mrs. Arthur Giles
has interviewer some wcll-worn threads 40
skilfully MS to produce an interesting story. A
confdinE husband. silly and sentimental wife
and phiandering artist. who certainly ought
TO wear velvet coat and brick-red tic are
the chief characters In the little comedy
and. though they arc essentially persons OF the
stage, the dialogue Is writton with sufficient
grace and the situations handled with such
skill as to make them acceptable. We don't
quite understand what the author means when
, in speaking Of pretty girl and her rustic lover
sho says the swish Of her silk frock WAS out OF
tune with tho whistle Of his working corduroys
COrdufoys are seryiccablc things and comforting
10 tho British railway porter and the agrlcul
turist during tho winter months, but this sc
far rs we know, is tho FIRST intimation Of thoiI
possession Of mHsical possibilities. 1t is, how
ever, mere detail.
"A Romance in Transit" iScribners) is q
simple tnlc by Mr.. Francis Lynde of true love
on \ train. Sho was the daughter OF tho
President OF the rond and he was pushing
: young passenger agent, young man with what
i the author curiously calls "a record clear
c enough TO permit him to look an nccusativ,
1 world in the face without abashment." lie tool
. her on the engine TO let her see the wheels II
| round. while "Poppa" stayed behind in hi,
q private car. The young persons wasteC
NO time. and without wishing to lesser