Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1914-09-19

For the artfulest invention. of the
pure storyteller cannot, in its
hold upon the reader, surpass
this plain record of fact. One stead
lastly refuses to leave the book
till he has it all Along with this
novel engrossment is a little under
nudging of protest, for many and
many a time has the reader said dis
respectful things about the purpose
and nature and ultimate value of the
average autobiography. But this is
not the average autobiography
eyes still glued to page-he losses
down to this persistent. prodding, in
side person bent on reminding him of
IN old prejudice against this particu-
lar form of writing. And why not?
Is it not the story of mans life?
And are not all these lives, from en-
trance to exit, much the same? An6
are not these self-storied men. with
out exception, obsessed with monoto-
nous1y kindred establishments" Mems
lives are much the same All life is
work, with rewards negligible, and
dealt haphazard with slight reckoning
of the worker himself Right here
one comes face to face with the essen
tial power of this story. 1t is, above
all else, record of work-of work
under handicap, of struggle agains:
pitiful odds, of small accomplishments
and these expressed in terms OF q
breakfast, a place to sleep. week OF
a month of schooling, and then more
work-anywhere. at anything-undel
an Irresistible urge to know things
to study, to get knowledge, to learf
the big lessons that the world has set
for our coming. Work and school
turn and turn about, are the su.n o.
these early years. By and by t,,ese he
gin to merge into the t.,de of the
worlds affairs. This ..auntiess story
seizes one. And its ,,nconouerable on
timism fires one. In ali these ripor-
Gus days thee is no word of com.
pialh. ana not single fling of bitter
ness o"drd either God or man. 1t i:
sne chipping story of the only right
kih,a of climber that there is. Mis-
likes? Oh, surely. But you will love
this French-Huguenot-I Lao
NJ his mistakes. These frankly avow-
ed errors are another clue to the
of make-believe about it. The early
chapters, covering the boys life in
ireland, his emigration to the United
States, and the immediate events fol-
lowing this, are as simple and tender
and beautiful as poem. This is what
they really are. And this is another
element in the appeal of this story
The whole is as clean-cut, as simple
as symmetrical. as classic as an elm
tree. And it is all the time human
Young folks-boys and girls alike
would revel in this story and, what l.
much more, they would while readin,
q tnstinctively tighten up their owr
slack strings. and snug up their owr
loose corners.
SILVER SAND. A Romance of Old
Galloway. By S. r. Crockett, au-
thor of THE Raiders etc. New
York: Fleming II. Revell Company.
AS the true romanticist is bound to
do. Mr.. Crockett goes back into the
past for the wherewithal of this en-
crossing adventure. Something more
than 200 years ago King James the
Second, having been declared no king
by his own parliament, was being har-
sied out of the British Islands by Will
Ha,n of Orange. Religion, so called,
was the tap root of politics then, as
Dig business is said to be now. And
the putting down and setting up of
Rings was brought about by a pro-
4igious letting OF dissenter blood. and
other similar ways of impressing hard
ened hearts with the love of God. The
zone of circumstance in which this par
ticular tale unfolds is that wherein
Graham of Claverhouse, in the name
OF the kings religion, hunted tie
Scotch Covenanters. The champion of
the prosecuted Scot is, for the purposes
OF this romance, silver Sand'-other-
wise, John Faa. gypsy earl Of Little
Egypt and leader of nobody knows
how many bands and tribes of leal
Romany men. Up and down the wild
coast of Galloway the swift adventure
moves under the fierce resistant urge
Of Scotch character, and in the full
savor of the rugged land itself. A
true romance eases the stress of per-
petuai hazard and escape. Mr. Crockett
has surpassed even himself, in feel
ing and the good gift of portrayal. in
the two women who love the Romany
leader, John Faa. Juliana, the gypsy
Iii
the best of Mr.. Crockett's women. And
Juliana rivals the best of romantic
heroines. Hand tasted" to Silver
sand by the Romany custom of asking
him to be her man, Juiiana with the
second sight that goes hand in. hand
With love makes the unhappy discov-
cry that John Faa is not heart-fasted
TO her. Thereafter her part is to prove
the quality OF her devotion by the
measure of her self sacrifice.
This is a dne Scotch romance, set in
turbulent. historic day. If not the
very best of Mr.. Crockett's stories. it
And all the lovers of this writer's VOL
will be glad of the superior excellence
of this final romance.
THE HOUSE. A Novel. By Henry
Bordeaux. author of Footprints
Beneath the Snow" etc. Translated
by Louise Seymour Houghton. New
York: Duffield & Co.
Reminiscent and autobiographic in
much its greatest extent, NJ. Bor-
deaux's latest story is. nevertheless, one
that makes prompt seizure of the read
er's personal interest and immediate
concern This is by virtue of it's
theme, and by the authors unerring
grasp of those essentials of human ma
ture in which all have conscious
share. The house" here is the home,
the home of NJ. Bordeaux, in one of the
provinces of France. And the story it
self is realistic and charming ac-
count of his home life from little boy
70 the door of manhood. 1t is a record
of infinite detail 1t describes the lit
tie happenings of every day-such as
make up the daily sum of any house
hold. 1t goes straight to the various
states of mind-feelings, desires,
thoughts, motives-that possess and
direct the little boy, the young man
and the half-boy, half-man. tina. lie
IN between the two In company with
all of this writer's work, The House"
cxalts the family and through the
family the race. The individual, mere
Iy as the individual, is, in the thinking
OF NJ bordeaux. the supreme menace
TO social progress.
And besides this story makes a real
7stic picture of the manner of life of
thousands living in the French prov
fnces. This, too. is part of II. Bor-
neaux S miSSion-tO depict French life,
with sympathy and understanding, as
il is lived away from Paris. Paris is
over-written. Its muititudinous litera-
ture has given q distorted view OF
France itself. And If one reads the
distinguished work of Henry Bordeaux