T

HERE is a small village in the western part of New York State, called East Aurora. It has a population of little more than 1,500. Four years ago it was almost unknown; scarcely anyone had ever heard of it. So when a tiny literary magazine, sailing under the name of "The Philistine,» made its appearance, bearing on its title-page the name of East Aurora as its place of publication, many readers believed that this was but an imaginary place, the name chosen to indicate its character as "the rising light or roseate glow of early morning in the eastern [literary] sky." Had it been but an imaginary name, none could more aptly have been selected as the birthplace of this new magazine. He was a bright, saucy, little chap, this self-styled "Philistine;" not afraid to speak his mind, to stir up wasps' nests, to act the enfant terrible of literary philistines, arrogant jeunes who hide their impudent mediocrity under the mask of a feigned superior exclusiveness and mysticism, and self-satisfied old fogies whose blood had become stagnant under the influence of fattening egotism, and whose big heads were half hidden under the night-caps of indolent and obstinate conservatism. The father of this valiant young knight was Elbert Hubbard, now lovingly called "Fra Elbertus" by his numerous friends and disciples. This congenial man, who has made the obscure village of East Aurora famous on two continents at least among booklovers and littérateurs-is in wider circles known as the author of the charming "Little Journeys to the Homes of Great Men and Women." He has also written some novels, though these are his minor efforts. His literary strength and originality, however, has full sway in the columns of his tart little "Philistine." Its origin was obviously caused by the appearance of that memorable little magazine, "The Chap-Book," which, like its numerous imitators, is now dead. "The Philistine," of all these miniature magazines, which at a time had become a veritable literary craze, is the only one still alive, and as brisk and bright as ever. What makes it so beloved by a host of readers is the sincerity of its tone and feeling, the strong morality of purpose in exposing philistinism, vanity, ignorance, and indifference. Mr. Hubbard wields a virile pen; he is fearless and aggressive; yet as a writer he always holds himself in check and never becomes vulgar or offensive. Whatever he writes is poetry in prose; tenderness of feeling is blended with a delicate sense

of humor; art and refinement are the keynotes of his literary mind; yet, he always strikes whatever he aims at; his sarcasm and wit flash ever and anon, purifying the air as does the lightning in nature, for there is always a good reason for his attacks. In one of the recent numbers of "The Philistine » there was a little preachment entitled "A Message to Garcia." Mentioning in a few terse words the famous deed of dauntless Rowan, who went fearlessly through the enemy's lines to deliver the President's message to General Garcia, he uses this incident as the preacher uses a text from Scripture. He draws a parallel, applying this deed as an object lesson to modern life. In an announcement in a later issue he calls it modestly an insignificant article; it is, however, in its simplicity so significant and strong that it could not fail to make a deep impression. The edition of that number was soon exhausted; the article was quoted throughout the country; it was reprinted in pamphlet form, as well as in an édition de luxe, and sold to the extent of many thousand copies.

It is in this particular branch of brother Hubbard's achievements, namely, in the making of books, veritable éditions de luxe, that he has gained the reputation of an "Amer ican William Morris.» The press where "The Philistine» is printed is called "The Roycroft Shop," and the books which have emanated from this press are known as "Roycroft Books." That name has for some time come to mean to every book-lover and collector the embodiment of all that is most exquisite and elevated in taste and refinement in the high art of bookmaking. In type, presswork, binding, and general appearance these books are a delight to the eye. They are almost too pretty for profane, daily usage; they want to be cherished as art-treasures. Though issued in but small, limited editions, and by no means cheap books, they are eagerly bought up by lovers of fine books, who feel a justifiable pride in owning these beautiful volumes. The list of the Roycroft publications includes some of the masterpieces of literature, such as the "Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam," the "Sonnets from the Portuguese," the "Confessions of an Opium Eater," the "Essays of Elia," "In Memoriam,» «The Deserted Village," "The Ancient Mariner," etc. Aside from these there are also some modern works written in the spirit of "The Philistine." Among these are. a collection of essays by Elbert Hubbard,

entitled "As it Seems to Me;» «Sermons from a Philistine Pulpit," by William McIntosh (Doctor Phil); "Hand and Brain," a symposium of essays on socialism by William Morris, Grant Allen, George Bernard Shaw, Henry S. Salt, Alfred Russel Wallace, and Edward Carpenter. To these books there has recently been added another exquisite volume containing a collection of bookish verse by Irving Browne, entitled "The Ballads of a Bookworm.» Many of these poems have already appeared in print in Duprat's "Book Lover's Almanac,» in «The Philistine," and in various magazines and newspapers; some are new. The author died in February of this year at Albany, N. Y., but his verses stand as a living monument of the poet and of his love of books, a love that finds an echo in the hearts of all who know how to appreciate the Roycroft Books. All of them show loving care in their maker, far above the manufacture of ordinary books, which is governed more or less by commercial considerations. They are all beautifully printed in bold type, with deep dark ink, on hand-made paper, initialed and illumined by hand, and bound with characteristic taste either in soft chamois leather with silk lining, or in plain, rough pasteboard, no less artistic in its effect.

Mr. Hubbard, before entering the book field, was a stock-breeder - hence probably his antmosity to the Chicago pork-barons. A man of fine education and literary propensities, he spent much of his time in the company of books, and when he found in his little village “Aylwin »*

A peculiar interest attaches to the first novel of a man who, like Mr. Theodore Watts-Dunton, has made himself a name as a poet and an essayist. From the writer's reputation we should naturally expect that charm of style that appeals to the highly cultured reader; and we are not disappointed. In beauty of thought and expression the novel suffers little in comparison with Walter Pater's "Marius, the Epicurean," or the happiest efforts of Robert Louis Stevenson. The first impression of the reader is that of a distinct originality, and a poetic quality rarely found in prose. Hence we are not surprised to learn that the character and theme were first thought out for a poem, and then found to be better adapted for a romance. This early poetic conception is perhaps responsible for one quality in the atmosphere of the novel, a kind of poetic isolation from nineteenth-century thought and occupations. The characters seem to move in a picturesque world all their own, among ancient ruins, by the Cornish sea, in the Welsh mountains, or in the studios of London, with only an occasional mention of a modern art like photography, or a modern scientific discovery, to remind us of the age in which they live. But this peculiarity makes the book rather more refreshing than otherwise.

*New York: Dodd, Mead & Co.

of East Aurora an enterprising printer of a congenial mind, he interested himself practically in the making of books. He had made a special study of the Italian art of printing during the Renaissance, and from his large collection of specimens of fine old printing he chose initials and head- and tail-pieces, or had them especially designed after these samples. His wife proved a valuable helper, as it was she who illuminated by hand all initials and ornamentation of the first publications. Now the Roycrofters number about twenty in all, working together in harmony in the artistic atmosphere of the Roycroft Shop, which has its home in a quaint chapel-like brick building in Gothic style. Most of Mr. Hubbard's co-workers are young ladies of East Aurora,-among them his particular "édition de luxe," his daughter. To this colony of artistic bookmakers belongs also Will Denslow, the young Chicago designer; St. Gerome Roycroft, a clever young sculptor; "Ali Baba," an old man in years, but not in mind, who is full of quaint sayings, bright talk, and interesting reminiscences.

Mr. Hubbard is not what is generally called a genius; that would be stretching friendly admiration too far. But he certainly is an artist in modern bookmaking art; he has done more, perhaps, than any other American in fostering the love of fine books and the appreciation of art in letters. As a writer he is original, vivid, lucid, stimulating, entertaining, and always interesting.

EDUARD ACKERMANN.

Unlike Pater's masterpiece, this novel excels in action and "thrilling interest." It is a rare combination of the best qualities of poetic and popular romance. Its theme is the old, old story of love, a love so strong, that, like the loves of Greek story, it absorbs all the hero's powers. And, as in those ancient tales, it is an unseen power from the spirit world that separates the lovers,- the instinctive superstition of the imaginative Celt which proves itself almost as fateful a power as that wielded by the deities of ancient Greece.

The opening picture is of rare beauty; two children of Cymric blood, one mixed with Romany; the boy a child of the sea, the girl a daughter of Snowdon. In the face of the first

- a deep undertone of Romany brown' seemed breaking through that peculiar kind of ruddy golden glow which no sunshine can give till it has been deepened and colored and enriched by the responsive kisses of the sea. Moreover, there was something in his eyes that were not gipsy-like,-a something which cannot be described, but which seems like the reflex of the daring gaze of that great land-conquering and daring sea."

At our first glimpse the child heroine is sitting among the graves in the old churchyard by the sea.

With her head bent back she was gazing up at the sky and singing, while one of her little hands was pointing to a tiny cloud that hovered like a golden

feather over her head. . . . High up in the blue, a lark that was soaring toward the same gauzy cloud was singing as in rivalry."

Of her voice it is said:

The blackcap has a climacteric note just before his song collapses and dies, so full of pathos and tenderness that often it affected me more deeply than any human words. But here was a note sweet and soft as that, and yet charged with a richness no blackcap's had ever borne, because no blackcap has ever felt the joys and sorrows of a young human soul."

The cloud to which Winnie was pointing was the Golden Hand, the "Dukkenpen" of the gipsies, which hovers with its promise and menace over the lives of both children, giving a strange weird effect to the story.

The climax of the tale, where Winnie loses her reason, is an intensely tragic scene. The whole story of her wanderings and the faithful lover's long and fruitless search for her has an absorbing interest and a tender pathos relieved by its highly picturesque nature-setting. But Winnie, even in the wreck of her mental powers, is as beautiful and winning as Ophelia. It is the lover that moves our pity, for he is borne down by sorrow for his lost love and consumed by the mental conflict between reason and the inherited instinct of superstition. In his mind, rationalistic convictions have become a passion. It is only after great suffering and deep trial that his soul is impelled to seek rest in "a mystical conception of the universe." He can then say with his friend,

*Even in this material age of ours there is not a single soul that does not in its inner depths acknowledge the power of the unseen world.”

This undercurrent of reflective and subjective experience in a singularly thrilling romance furnishes the true motif of the tale.

Coming in the last years of the nineteenth century as the mature and thoughtful expression of one of our most cultured writers, the novel strikes a significant note in our literature. It is a protest against those tenets of realism that prescribe the portrayal of commonplace events and the people that one meets in everyday life. Yet its character delineation is as vivid and as true as any realist can boast. Sinfi Lowell, the "Romany chi," is as thoroughly alive as any character in modern fiction and as fresh as a new creation. The careful study of race characteristics, of inherited tendencies, and the subtle influence of nature upon impressible minds, has its psychological value making it as truly "a human document" as a realistic novel.

The descriptions of Welsh mountains, of gipsy life, of the London studios, are as graphic and vigorous in their way as that grosser style of portrayal so common in our literature, and possess a picturesque charm, a poetic glamour, belonging to the higher plains of art.

As a record of the struggle of the modern mind under the influence of scientific training, with the inherited instincts of the Celtic and Romany races, the romance is one of the

strongest protests in literature against the materialism and rationalism of our day. As a plea for the spiritual in life, it represents a new tendency of our later literature,- that seeking after something that we seem to have lost in our struggle with Philistinism. Its atmosphere of unrest and search, its attitude of open-mindedness toward spiritual forces, reflect a phase of our intellectual life. The book is perhaps the most intense expression, in the English prose fiction of our century, of what the writer calls the "modern renaissance of wonder in the mind of man." E. A. V.

Carroll Wright's Messrs. Longmans, Green, and « Practical Co. have instituted an "AmerSociology≫ ican Citizen Series» of books, to be edited by Dr. Albert Bushnell Hart, Professor of History in Harvard University. Mr. Carroll D. Wright's "Outline of Practical Sociology, with Special Reference to American Conditions,»* is the first of the series. The project was an admirable one, and the initial volume was put into excellent hands,- those of the United States Commissioner of Labor, the author of "The Industrial Evolution of the United States," a recognized and frequently quoted authority on this subject.

A "science" of sociology there is not and perhaps never will be. As Mr. Wright himself rightly says, "It is not until the highly developed animal, man, appears, with heart and soul, or those attributes which may be called spiritual, that organization is resorted to as the expression of the social instincts." Accordingly, until we have the sciences of the heart and soul, we shall not have a science of sociology, we shall not, that is, be able to formulate a scientific system of the true and proper method by which mankind shall govern itself in communities: elect its legislators; make its laws and enforce them; regulate its industry; provide its penal and eleemosynary institutions; dispose of its sewage; distribute light and water (and, in time no doubt, power); arrange its systems of transport; collect its statistics; and perform the thousand and one complicated duties which now devolve upon every highlycivilized nation. There is no science" of all these multifarious functions. They have to be evolved, as mankind itself has evolved, by efforts, by struggles, by practical attempts Any system of sociology, therefore, will be largely an exposition of practical attempts, and Mr. Carroll Wright wisely calls his admirable and lucid work an "Outline of Practical Sociology.» Here and there, of course, theory, as proved by practical attempt, is permissible; notably, for example, in the case of the benefit of the introduction of machinery,- a benefit once strenuously denied. The author makes full and excellent use of such opportunity. But, as a whole, Mr. Wright's work is, as it

*New York & London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1899. Crown 8vo. cloth, pp. xxv, 431.

should be, a purview of the existing conditions and the governing forces, social and industrial, of the people of the United States. Succeeding volumes of the series will deal with particular aspects of American sociology: Professor Dewey will take up Finance; Professor Anson Morse, Political Parties; Professor Seligman, Political Economy; Professor Moore, Foreign Policy; and the editor, Dr. Hart, Actual Government.

Mr. Wright's book covers an enormous field, but it covers it lucidly and methodically. It is carefully divided into parts, chapters, and numbered sections. Statistics abound. References to authorities are so numerous as almost to amount to a complete bibliography. It would seem almost superfluous to recommend the book to students of the economic conditions and methods of the people of the United States. T. A. H.

the Goldseekers»

☆ "The Trail of Mr. Hamlin Garland has given us a bright, breezy, invigorating book in his record of travel on the way to the Klondike, entitled "The Trail of the Goldseekers." (New York: The Macmillan Co.) Mr. Garland was, however, not himself a goldseeker, though he had a partner who was; and he joined the pack-train and made an overland journey of a thousand and odd miles evidently from the mere love of adventure and the delight of seeing nature in her most grim mood and roughest attire. The route the author took was at first, in getting into the country, not the usual one, by way of the Chilcoot and White passes, but that by way of Ashcroft on the Canadian Pacific Railway near the junction of the Thompson and Fraser rivers in British Columbia, thence to Quesnelle, and across the country to the Skeena and Stikeen rivers. On reaching the Stikeen the main party proceeded overland, on the eastern side of the Coast Range, to Teslin Lake in Yukon, leaving the author to proceed to Fort Wrangel, where he left his horse to be cared for until he returned, while he took the steamer to Skagway, thence across the Chilcoot to Lake Bennett and the upper waters of the Yukon. The vicissitudes of the journey and the conflict with nature, with the thermometer at times down to 56° below zero, and without hut or tent to sleep in over night, are graphically portrayed, while the characters that make up the party are realistically delineated, yet with a kindliness and human interest that imparts a charm to the narrative. The country crossed by the goldseekers is for the most part not only pathless, but sterile and forbidding, while the discomforts and anxieties endured by the way are often of the most pathetic character. But though we see, on almost every page of the book, nature at its wildest and mankind in the roughest and most uncouth guise, the author's serenity and cheerfulness never desert him, while songs break from him in copious streams, testifying to his love of his

Tales of New Under the title of "The Custom Japan of the Country» Mrs. Hugh Fraser, wife of an English diplomatist and author of a volume of delightful pen-pictures of life in the Island Empire embraced in a series of "Letters From Japan," has compiled a number of entertaining stories, some of which she had contributed to the periodical press. Mrs. Fraser's work is always charming, her stories being delightfully told and embellished with fine touches of nature. The background of the stories is flowery Japan, which Mrs. Fraser knows thoroughly and writes of with unfeigned sympathy. She also knows Japanese womanhood and the social life of the country, and her stories tell of the relations of American and European men with the native women "those simple-minded, guileless, and faithful children of nature.» The opening story is so idyllic, and the contrast so sharp between the fidelity of a Japanese maiden and the inconstancy of her European sister, that no reader of it will lay down the book until the whole is devoured. The story that gives the title to the book is also entrancingly written, reciting the experiences of a young old-country official in a diplomat's office in Japan who for love's sake defies the rigid conventionalities of Anglo-Japanese life for the wedded happiness he seeks and finds in a fair native of the islands. [New York: The Macmillan Co.] G. M. A.

"American Historical Association, Report to, by the Committee of Seven on the Study of History in Schools. New York: The Macmillan Co.

Chief Simon Pokagon: "Queen of the Woods," with a Brief Sketch of the Algaic (Algonquin) Language. Hartford, Mich. : C. H. Engle.

Churchill, Winston: Richard Carvel: a Novel." 8th edition. New York: The Macmillan Co. George, Andrew J.: Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, with Introduction and Notes. » New York: The Macmillan Co.

George, Andrew J., M.A. (Editor): "Milton's Comus, Lycidas, and Other Poems." Edited with Notes and Introduction. New York: The Macmillan Co.

Gulick, E. L., M.A. (Editor): George Eliot's "Silas Marner, with Introduction and Notes (Pocket English Classics Prescribed for College Entrance Examination). New York: The Macmillan Co.

Hanus, Prof. Paul H. (Harvard): " Educational Aims and Educational Values." New York: The Macmillan Co.

W

HETHER it be desirable to adopt slang

words into classical English is not a new question; but the recommendation of a distinguished American educator that slang be taught to children in common schools, and the recent endorsement of certain slang words and phrases by the editor of one of our foremost literary journals, have brought it prominently forward for discussion.

Slang is language which has not received the stamp of good usage. It is the counterfeit coin of speech.

Language is a natural means of expressing feeling and thought. So far as its development can be traced it appears to be a product of evolution. In its early stages it would develop spontaneously. For instance, the sound emitted by an animal would suggest its name; as, "cuckoo," "katydid." From the names of objects, subjective words expressing feelings and abstract ideas would gradually be derived. After a considerable number of root words had been evolved, new words would begin to be formed, more or less consciously, by compounding roots and by the use of class endings. The growth of thought would necessitate a corresponding growth of language. In the course of time new words would be formed, consciously, to meet new demands. Finally, the laws of construction would be formulated as grammar and rhetoric. The last stage in the development of the language of a cultivated people is conscious construction, not only of words for new inventions and discoveries, but of grammatic forms, of substitute words and phrases, and of the forms for recognized deficiencies. The first step in this last stage of language development has been exemplified in the adoption of such terms as "phonography," "sociology," "physiography," "trustee." The last step is now struggling for recognition. The amending of our unsatisfactory system of spelling through the efforts of the American Philological Association, and the attempt to introduce such words as "forewords» (for "preface") and "whose" or "hiser» (for "his or her ») illustrate the tendency to improve the language as a means of expression by conscious construction.

All systems of law originate in custom; but, in due course of time, law, the instrument of justice, becomes subject to construction: old laws are repealed, and new ones are made to meet new requirements.

Changing conditions, new phases of thought, new inventions, progress in science and art,

necessitate changes in language, the instrument of expression; for language is not the essential product of thought, but a means of expression. That is the best language which conveys thought the most clearly, simply, and effectively. Changes in language are desirable only as they serve to improve it; but it is highly improbable that unrestricted change will always be in the direction of improvement.

A word or expression conveys that meaning which by continual use we have learned to associate with it. If the form "pingaloo » were immemorially associated with the idea now suggested by "speak," it would convey the same idea. If a tendency to substitute this term should suddenly appear, we should oppose it, not because the ancient dignity of the language and the practice of the best speakers and writers would be opposed to it, but because the word is unnecessary. If we should admit the right to impose upon our language any such word that chance might suggest, would not the right to vulgarize the language to an unlimited extent be thereby admitted? It may be argued that many valuable words have been introduced into the English language in this way. Whenever a definite want is felt, an attempt will be made to supply it; but it is unlikely that any slang word or phrase that suggests itself will be appropriate. It is generally assumed that all words in common use are good words, and that because certain words in use now were once slang it must follow that slang words are likely to prove desirable additions to our vocabulary. "Humbug," "bamboozle,» «foist,» "sort," "reinakaboo," may be taken as examples. "Humbug" would naturally suggest a humming insect; "bamboozle" and "reinakaboo,» are barbarous; "class" and "classify" are better than "sort; " and "impose" is preferable to "foist."

Perhaps the commonest argument in favor of slang is that it expresses the meaning intended better than purer English could express it. This argument would apply with equal force to profanity. Any verbal expression that produces an impression similar to that suggested by the thing represented, as "hissing steam,» "gurgling gasp,' "pealing bells," "blaring trumpets," is in itself more expressive than any other. Unless some such association can be suggested, the most expressive word will necessarily be that which has been longest associated with the thing or idea to be expressed. It is for this reason that the simplest words are