Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1908-10-09
BOOKS AND AUTHORS

There were few drones in this busy hive
of art. but Of these Louis (Steverson) was
apparently the most consistent writes Will
H. Low in Scribner's. We have learned
since how many impressions of scenes and
manners were garnered from this apparent
idleness, and through what q formative
period in his work he was passing at the
time. But never remember him withdraw
ing to the SeclusOn of his room on the plea
of volk to be done nor, in the long after
| moons spent in his company-while l was
industriorsly spelling canvas as with
more truth than / imagined we were wont
to say with facetious ntent-can | recall
him as busy with paper and pencil. Even
| the book which was his frequent COM
panion was more than likely left unopened.
| On the other hard, it is with gratifying
| frequency that 1 find in his published
WORKS ideas and reflections born of that
| time and in many instances phrases and
| incidents that bring back some special
place in the forest, or the life that we liv
| ed ct RarbizOn, Gree or Montigny sur
LONG Industrious idleness it was to him:
for his mind was treasure house where
| every addition to it's store was carefully
guarded against the day Of need. Many
incidents of our common experience, long
| forgotten by me. have thus met in fresh
guse in after years; and in most cases |
imagine that it was his memory and not
his notes that served him-at least of
| these last there was no visible evidence
at the time. Despite our intimacy we
| lived so much in the present, each day
| bringing it's quota of fresh experience.
| that it was long after in interchange of
reminiscent talk that 1 learned of his ear
lier life, of the days when he was ordered
SOUTH and of the storm and stress of
his adolesccnt years. Though it was con-
sidered good form in our circle to ex-
patiate at length upon the work that we
were doing, and to display it on every
occasion in the most unblushing manner.
he was an exception to the rule; vague
mention of the few things he had publish
ed reached our ears, but no copies OF then!
were produced: and it was not until the
summer Of 1876 that l first saw his work
printed the essay entitled Forest Notes.
in the Cornhill for May of that year.
| Joan Townsend Trowbridge, the veter-
an author has just sent his publishers
the Lothrop, Lee &, Shepard Company
Boston, the manuscript of a juvenile
story for 1909, being DESTROYS of correcting
the proofs before he sails for Europe
The. title is; "A Pair of Madcaps," which
does not sound as if IS years of author ship
had greatly altered the happy tempera :
| ment indicated by the title of his first
story or children. Father Brighthopes
Certainly it is TO feeble courage that at
81 wears of age takes a man across the
north Atlantic.
One of the new nymphs Of Tel psichore
is about to enlighten a waiting world
on the subject of her art. This is Miss
Maud Allan, whose little book. My Life
and Dancing is OH the press. Miss Allan
is shrewd person, as may be seen in
this quick seizure of the opportunity Of
fered by passing craze.
| David Graham Philips, one of the most
successful of the strong group of younger
novelists, rooms and works on the four
| teenth and top floor Of a lofty studio
apartment building. ir room with broad
northern windows looking off over acres
of Manhattan roofs to the spidery out
lines of a growing East river bridge. APP
pended is part of interview New
Yorl, reporter recently had with Mr.. Phil
Ups in his studio:
| He wore lon" dressing gown and eN-
planned that he had but shortly finished
bath and breakfast. The time was late
| forenoon but this does not mean that Mr..
Philips sleeps more than the allotted hours
of the average man. AS he explains de-
| precatinglv it is the days when he was a
| newspaper reporter, which leads him to
do much IF his writing after midnight. to
retire shortly before sunrise, and TO begin
his days we'll on toward noon.
| emo I dent consider it a writer's duty
| to I:lease the public said Mr.. Philips.
with an emphatic gesture. Il consider it
| a writer's duty to write about what he
knows What docs he know? The life that
| goes on around him is all that he can
know Suppose I were to write about the
rass about what wa;. But l don't know
what was ard the more I read those who
profess to know the stronger grows my
suspicion that nobody knows
| "Shall l write about what ought to be.
! How do know what ought to he?
dor't even know what ought not to be.
for many things once thought curses up
on the race I now see were in fact the
means to its development in strength and
we'll being. Out of death comes life. out
| of vice comes virturp. out of injustice
comes Justice. Good things breed decay
and disease: the bad things breed health
War teaches peace, cruelty teach mercy
slavery teaches Brotherhood and freedom
"Shali I write my opinion. Library
shelves sag under the weight of countless
volumes of opinions that have served SIM
DIV to give pleasure to egotistic writer's. to
spare other writer's equally worthless
the trouble of thinking and to obscure
in dense envelopes Of fog the facts of
life that some day will enlishteh ana re-
deem the world.
so Won see, all that is left to write
about is " hat is | try to let 70 hes, try
to prevent myself from mixing in with
truth little doses Of whot think ought t"
be truth Of what I think would SOUND
better or would he more popular. for the
truth is the most unpopular. as it is the
most unfamiliar of visitors to the human
mind"
Lying is the great fault. he continued
earnestly 1T is emptying the churches;
| &c fhraa mi n