The New York herald., 1920-12-26
BOOK REVIEWS
In Hitherto Unpublished Interview,
The Poet Talks of Little Orphant Annie

and that was Little Orphant Annie" My
sincere enthusiasm brought a flush of pleas
ure to his face.
"I am glad you feel that way about it," he
said simply Time alone can tell about these
things. But whether your opinion Is right
or wrong as regards that particular poem it
warns an authors heart to hear such genu-
inc praise. 1t is a queer thing" he unused,
but many people seem to be afraid OF
saying nice things about an authors work
while he is still alive. They are afraid or
spelling him, I suppose" he concluded dryly'
$50 they wait until he is dead"
He sat In silence for a moment and then
placed a kindly hand on my knee.
my boy" he said "if you ever become
writer yourself strive always for two Things
sincerity and simplicity. 1t seems to be
sort of belief on the part Of very young men
and quite few old ones, too, that highfalutin
language is first cousin to genius. Moth
ing was ever further from the truth. caii
such writing the art of concealing thought
Tt reminds me of man who is ashamed of
the elemental things of life and thinks when
he is all dressed up that he can ignore their
existence. Writers who follow this all
dressed up policy never succeed in fooling
any one but themselves. l maintain that the
best style is the simplest style. The biggest
effects in literature have been Obtained py
direct appeals to the heart-not to the brain.
At least that is my own personal opinion"
he hastened to add seeming to fear that
might think him dogmatic.
There followed another silence. and then
asked him the question which had always
hoped might have the chance to ask MIN
some day: -
"Was Little Orphant Annie a real cniio
or a dream child?"
Mr.. Riley smiled tenderly. and it was inn
possible not to feel sort of awe Of this
little man who had produced from his brain
an orphan child known to children from
Cape Cod to the Florida Keys.
Little Orphant Annie was an actual per-
son." he said. "She was little girl knew
well-full of fun, bright and optimistic IL
was a common occurrence for her to tell
ghost stories and goblin tales to us young
sters when we sat around the firesde on
winter evenings.
"She was a most peculiar child in that she
seemed to have the wisdom of a woman.
She was sedate and old-folksy, and after her
work was done she would entertain the chill
dren and then go away by herself The child
rarely took part in games, and the other
children looked upon her wonderful story
telling powers with awe and admiration.
Most of my characters, by the way were
drawn directly from life."
I mentioned to Mr.. Riley that had re-
Gently seen volume Of his prose writings.
That was a rare exception" he said with
d
whimsy: II never write prose now-except
or the back of a check" Almost immedi-
ately. however, the smile died out and he re-
marked with intense seriousness: II am
known as a poet, and 1t is as a poet that I
would always wish to be known"
When left him he expressed regret that
his teeth had interfered somewhat with the
conversation. AS he shook hands at part
ing he stood for a moment in the doorway
of that charming. old-fashioned house and
looked out into the quiet street. The sun
was sinking and the shadows Of evening
were beginning to play hide and seek upon
the lawn. Mr. Riley, standing there framed
in the doorway, gave just the right touch to
the homelike scene and 1 found myself
thinking of his own lines:
"Such a dear little street It is nestled away
From the noise Of the stress and heat OF the
day.
In the cool shady coverts of whispering trees.
With their leaves lifted up to shake hands with
the breeze,
Which in all its wide wanderings may never
meet
With resting place fairer than Lockerbie
street"