Evening star., 1923-05-01
NEW BOOKS
AT RANDOM

AMBLING THROUGH ACADIA.
Charles Hanson Towne. The Cen
tury Company.
Come on. lots 60. For not again
shall we have a chance OF this kind
to SEQ the Nova Scotian apple or
chards, miles Of them in low-lying
clouds Of bloom. There can be but
few Aprils for US at best" Mr.. Towne
reminds himself and us with a touch
Of sadness. Then. in prompt and
buoyant rebound, he sets himself the
but one had been before. A simple
trick, too--merely that Of betaking
oneself northward. where, though
May or juno may be figuring in the
calendar, there is in full possession
the form and spirit OF April filled
with the rapture and rustic OF
spring"
X X *,x
Bidden to come along on this quest
OF a second April. we, accept in glad
ness. Last year we went 'Loafing
Down Long Island" with Mr.. Towne.
who proved himself to be among the
best of good loafers. A promise this.
one takes 1t, that in the easy gait or
the amber through Acadia, he will
be an equal satisfaction and Joy. He
has other frailties. too, that we love.
beside that Of a large and incurable
leisure In a hurry-ridden world For
instance, before the mere of me-
chanics oS travel-trains. timetables.
connections-he is a baby of ie-
norance and futility. Not that we
desire 10 be misguided or led a.trav,
We mention this example az one ou,
or many signs of the temperamentaI
oond between this particular loafer
ana the rest Of the tribe. Knowing
h'mseir, however. he guards against
mischance. For in the partv 10
real guide, one who recreates himself
on the cryptic pages of time tables
anu guide books. "1'lI take care of
this is his sure solvent of eyerv ner-
plexlty. Beside the guide there is an
artist OF whom. happily. we shall see
much.
X x X X
No hurry. One Of the chief lows Of
tnls adventure-no hurry Plenty Of
tinle' slipping down the river, to
catch again the permanent and su.
perlor beauty of Brooklyn bridge,
no" melted into the Landscape, a
gray rainbow of stone, arched in soft
persuasion to link up Manhattan and
queens. Plenty of time to thrill
again over the daring leap of the sky
scraper. canyon walls OF an unbeliev-
able insolence of pride. One Amer
lean, home again, declared soberly
that no cathedral tower or spire Of
Europe could surpass the Woolworth
building. Philistine? Seer? Plenty of
time TO stand on deck around the
priest who, as We skirt Blackwelrs
Island, tells the legend of the build
ing of the lighthouse there. The next
day, Boston. That same afternoon, a
clean, brisk boat for Yarmouth. We
are in Scotia, greeted by the scent of
lilac blooms. and promised the sight
of drifting acres of apple blossoms.
Plenty OF time. though. For the
apple blossoms, up and beyond. are
said on clear local authority not yet
to be quite ripe. And. here at hand,
there is Weymouth to see, and Digby,
and Sandy cove, and the rest-all on
lovely iniets of the bay. where
weather-beaten boats rock and climb
ing streets lead past homes looking
indescribably solid and comfortable.
Little rivers run gossiping down the
hills and lovely valleys lie ready and
smiling for the swift thrust of spring.
4 n
finds lightkeeper, the ancient mar
iner" over again so we all agree.
The fishermen are handsome as car
dinals and as dignified, according to
the author. Everywhere the keen
scent of the pines cuts the air. And
the waters give up delectable sea
things to eat. 1t is in Digby that
Mr.. Towne is led to confess, without
blush" his first knowledge that
f1nnan- -haddie is merely smoked had
dock. This sets US back few years
to a morning in Washington when
Ambrose Bierce discoursed in phrases
that dripped succulence on the glories
Of finnan-haddie. Like Mr.. Towne.
we knew nothing of this food for
super-men. 1t was not, however. q
pleasant thing, exactly, to appear un-
waywise before the keen eyes and
sharp tongue OF Bierce-so we said
nothing. 1t Is now much too late to
play any epicurean part before him.
did. that rhis was a Scottish tidbit Of
long and illustrious lineage.
Plenty of time. even yet, save for
the artist. He is now driven man.
there. smudee of black. soft blur
of gray, and there you have it-a
rythmic beat Of wave, a rocking boat,
street. q fish catch, and this and
that-each stepped in it's own brew
and all redolent Of the lovely place
n i
cable man, this artist.
Then come Bridsetown and Grand
Pre-, and then the apple orchards, at
last Drifts of scented and tinted
snow, canopies of bloom and, tomor-
row, carpets of fragile and ineffable
beauty.
And here so poignant a chapter Of
history spreads out before us that
even the beauty of the landscape
must give way before it. And SO.
with Mr.. Towne, we go back to that
day. so long ago, when the Acadians
were driven from their homes to
wander here and there. desperate and
broken. While we linger in Grand
Pre- we talk over those bitter days.
conjuring up what must have taken
pldCe III sPotb VI ONCA eh VI
yonder. To make the time and place
more vivid we follow the guidance of
Longfellow. And here Mr.. Towne
stops to wonder. q shade complain
ingly. why 1t was that Longfellow
never visited the place that he re-
produced In the most familiar and the
best beloved Of his poems. Not SO
easy to get about, even in Longfel-
lows recent day, as 1t Is now.
Quite on his own account Mr.. Towne
knows, without question. that Grand
Pre- dreams its dream: its old houses
whisper one to another under the