The Birmingham age-herald., 1905-07-30

'It is lonely in my garden of sum mer's evening? Have the little patering feet gone their ways-to bed? Then people the gooseberry alley with pr. Primrose and his daughters, Sophia and Olivia: Squire Buchell comes and sits upon the bench with me under the arbor as I smoke my pipe. How shall we meas ure our indebtedness to such pleasant books that people our solitude so many years after they are writteni Oliver Gold smith, I thank youl Bob Grown, l thank .youle-From My Farm at Edgewood," by K Marvel, published in 1863. K Marvel was just turned forty when he wrote these lines-he is past eighty three today.
 After making allowances for differ ence of incidental manner in their re- spective periods, comparison or olVer Goldsmith and Donald Grant Mitchell (who is K MarveD shows them to be kindered
 Goldsmith was a plain man who made simplicity seem magnificent, and he had the saving grace of humor for use in stress of weather Mitchell is also plain man, who has found magnficence in the simplest impressions that have stamped his soul-who, born a poet has lived a poets life, with his love of solitude and reverie and things without complexity. He is passing quietly, tenderly, even cheerfully now into the dream life that has been his atmosphere always, and for this reason one may venture to measure his distinction in American literature. as posterity will surely honor him without reserve. Every one remembers the fRttlNl lfahn nd taa 1850, and selling as well today as it ever did, although the author profits little from it now because of the true" justice of the American copyright law that gives an author no more than forty-two years lien on his literary property.
 Technically 1t is written in prose, but actually 1t is true poetry, whisking us away from the uginess of bombast and vanity usual in the "reminiscences of un- attached man; leading us gently and surely into revere of sentiment entirely sweet and self-depreciating. a reverie in which bachelorhood is condition creep ing inevitably to it's chivalric destiny, where she awaits him; she the en- i. chantress of our lives turing us toward an agreeable obedience that no words definitely can tell of, that no man win ever cease desiring to obey.
 Preceded Authors Marriage.
 The .sReveries of Bachelor" preceded and authors marriage by scarcely two years.
 This is delightfully."- significant, fact that points no other way for man but that which brings him to the parson and the ring. If so exquisite document as the "Reveries of a Bachelor fails in it's avowed resistance there can be none that avails.
 It is a book that conjures, its tricks are the coquetry of man, not the evil in him, and they would not deceive the most de- termined widows.
 It is all true; one can read it now and fall beneath the overwhelming philosophy of this delightful bachelor who consented to share with his fellows the intimate reveries of his solitude, in time when sweethearts were shy, and weddings were sacred ceremonies This bachelor talks to you today with an almost forgotten grace and chivalry; his most playful thought is as stately as the minuet when the faintest touch of the tips of her fing CTS was satisfaction enough for the bash full adorer. Little wonder that the bache- Tor became mark for the prettiest. the most romantic, the most refined young ladies of his bachelor days: the real won der is how he survived the publication of his reveries two years before he mar ried.
 
 not have any more reveries of bachelor, but they had served so good cause that there was no need to repeat them, for they merged themselves into another i'm questionable mood, that made book called "Dream-Life."
 Everything that found a voice in him came from poetic impulses; he is dis ciple of things In nature as they are, those same things the average man would t~~1xr .xfr Az httt hnd !,
 Oliver Goldsmith was plain man, poor in pocket, rich in a genius for systematic vision.
 Donald Grand Mitchell Is plain man, of modest fortune rich in genius for seeing life in a simple. honest, inspiring way; rich in his ability to put down what he has seen entirely as he has seen it. Much that Is lacking in modern literature can be found in a walk through the woods on summer day. if 1t is not too hot. All that is lacking in contemporary chivalry can be found in the "Reveries of Bachelor" just as an hour spent with Doctor Primrose and his daughter Olivia sweetens, refreshes, and invigorates the spirit.
 MitcheIls Power.
 Like Goldsmith, K Marvel, (who some people confuse with Ik Walton, who was very different. makes us feel the peace or WOOuidHu IcNcIles, tnc pnllOsopIy Ol solitude the charm that escapes us in quiet things
 It Is very quiet at Edgewood where he has lived the greater part of his life where most that he has written has been conceived and done.
 "It is lonely in my garden of a sum mers evening. Have the little pattering feet gone theiy way to bed?'
 No, 1t is never lonely at Edgewood.
 The little pattering feet" those chill dren that left him alone with his beloved Goldsmith once in awhile, are always around him now; three practical, house. keeping, care-taking women, who watch his every movement lovingly as he once watched them in the "gooseberry alley" behind the house.
 Every one in New Haven knows the house; the smallest boy that goes to school can point in the direction 1t is from him. no matter how busy his game may be at the moment.
 ''Yaas. Sir, up there on the hill that's Edgewood: follow the road that goes up when you get to Westville."
 Why shouldn't the whole town know? Didn't he graduate from Yale, and isn't he as famous graduate ss they ever hadf
 New Haven is proud of its sristocrats and everybody there knows ik Marvel and claims him, though he was born in Nor wich.
 The Edgewood of today is not the