Evening star., 1936-12-12
By Mary Carter Roberts.
] FOUND NO PEACE. BY Webb
Miller. New York: Simon d

wv his parents had given MIN
-Webster-to the one by
which he is now pretty widely known
in order that he might have q good,
mappy by-line. That would seem to
have been characteristic of him. He
was Q reporter, first, last and always.
In his present book, his autobiography,
he does remark that he has been
over most of the world in his life and
has seen most of the historic events
Of that time. and that he has nowhere
found peace, or even men Of peaceful
intent. But he Is not really con-
cerned much about the meaning Of
events. 1t Is always the event itself
that has fascinated him. And that
probably Is why he is one Of the
best reporters in the world.
His book comes at q time when
the presses seem to be glutted with
autobiographies OF newspaper men.
Whether Vincent Shean set the
fashion, with his wonderfully profita-
bic volume, or whether he merely
happened to be first in fashion
that was inevitable anyway, Is a ques-
the latter supposition-most Of these
reporters are about the same age, most
OF them have had parallel expert
ences, and the state OF the world is,
1t present, comparatively quiescent
1t may be merely natural that men
who have had such extraordinarily
broad opportunities to observe the
planets muddle- headed blatting about
through recent decades should feel an
impulse to sit down while there is time
and put their observations into coher-
ent form. A significant thing about
these memoirs is that they are not
those of old or retired men. Their
writers are still in harness and will go
back to work when the next calamity
descends upon us.
WEBB MILLER'S book is really
very good reading. AS has been
said, he writes of events instead of
interpreting them. He differs from
the Shean-Spivak-F Freeman school of
photographed writing in this; they
have discarded the simple reporters
role for that of the somewhat grandiose
prophet, and, like most grandiose (or
somewhat grandiose) performers, they
please no one except those who agree
with them anyway.
Most people prefer q story to q
tract. Webb Mller's book is a story,
In spite of its prophetic title. He
offers no panaceas, no solutions, no
profundities. He attaches himself to
no ism as the ultimate or absolute.
This happened" he remarks. II saw
It," And that is about all.
He tells Of his boyhood, spent on
various tenant farms in Michigan.
The Millers were poor; he had never
had two suits Of clothes until he
started for Chicago to get q job-re-
porting, of course. He had already
set his mind on that. He tells OF his
cub days on the American, when he
chiefly reported crimes and hangings.
He then tells of his start as q free
lance, covering the pursuit of the
Mexican bandit, Villa. And from
then on, his narrative goes through
the World War, the occupation of the
Rhineland, the Riffian War, the
Gandhi riots in India. and the con-
quest of Ethiopia, when, as is history
now, he scooped the world on the
start Of hostilities. Many smaller
matters are, of course, tossed in. 1t is
straight reporting of reporting. 1t is
the best manner Of newspaper writing
that there is-a combination of a per-
sonal style with an impersonal mind.
Any story, however, Is improved by
putting 1t in a frame, by giving it a
boundary and shape, and Webb
Miller is far too astute q writer not
to know that. So he has wound
around his narrative a little legend
about himself-his personal develop
ment from a shy, shrinking farm boy,
with all the inhibitions that poverty
stricken country childhood imposes
on sensitive nature, to a self posses
sed master of his craft and man of
many worlds. There is something
indescribably good about this. It is
done so completely without swank, it is
70 devoid of the offensive self-pity and
self admiration which have clouded
some recent autobiographies of re-
porters, notably that of Joseph Free
man, that it becomes an unusual asset
rather the usual liability in such a
work. 1t is not given much space or
much Importance But it serves ad-
nirably as frame for the rest of the
Miller story.
AS to the title, it rests where titles
should rest, on the substance OF its
book. That book, as has been said,
deals with crimes, wars and rumors of
wars in almost every part of the
world. Mr.. Miller by temperament
loves peace, a positive, contemplative
peace such as is prescribed as medicine
for the soul in the writings of Henry
Thoreau. Thoreau, he says, has been
his mentor through his life. He has
carried copy of walden" with him
constantly: he has, in fact, worn out
three copies. But he has found no
peace, because there is none. With
the closing remark that he thinks
another war Is inevitable, he leaves it
at that.
It Is q splendid picture of the world,
Is q really great reporter sees it.
THE FLIGHT OF BIG HORSE. By
Sven Hedin. Translated by F. H.
Lyon. New York: e. p. Dutton
b. Co.
THIS Is highly interesting COM
bination of travel book and sd-
venture story. For it gives the ac-
count Of what started to be merely an
exploring expedition, but turned into
an agile dodging party between hos
tile Chinese armies bent on destroy
ing one another and sublimely indif-
ferent to the presence Of casual white
scientists. 1t makes an exciting and
sometimes an uproarious tale.
It Is the record of an expedition
which the veteran explorer. Sven He
din, was leading into Sinkiang in
the Spring of 1884. The expedition
had no political interest whatsoever;
ro,,fro1 and AavofaA nnf{ralx,