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my citation of "the 'Polyidus' of Euripides and the 'Smectymnuus' of Milton (twice)." With regard to the first, will he be good enough to say what is wrong; if "Polyidus" is not right, what is? Let scholars judge. With regard to the second, it may be sufficient to say that, from cover to cover of my volume, there is no mention of "the Smectymnuus of Milton "-the blunder is a pure invention of your reviewer's. I have referred once (not twice) to the "Apology for Smectymnuus," accurately spelt and accurately entitled. I make no comment on this method of reviewing and of supporting charges of "inaccuracy." I appeal simply to your sense of justice. Your obedient servant,

J. CHURTON COLLINS.

[Space alone prevents me from maintaining that Mr Collins, even when he errs with Conington, errs none the less, and Conington does not support his version of "Eclogue" III. 38. To trounce as senseless and ungrammatical versions which have the authority of T. E. Page, to quote only the latest editor of Vergil, is not the criticism that Mr Collins commends. Here, if I followed Mr Collins's lead, I should stop; but I prefer frankly to add that, though Iloλveidos is the accepted form, there is inferior authority for Пolvidos, and that the mistake about Smectymnuus was not Mr Collins's, but your Reviewer's.]

The Memoirs continue:

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To-night, or rather this morning, for I write this on the morning of September 2nd, 1902, at

-1905

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AMERICAN POETRY

161

2.45 a.m., I conclude one of the happiest times in my life-the three weeks I have been here at 4 Beaumont Street, Oxford: all my belongings having a most happy time at Boulogne, where I hope to join them on Wednesday. I have been working from 12 to 13 hours a day, having written Shakespearean Paradoxes" for the National Review, "Montesquieu in England" for the Quarterly, having also revised and added to my Introduction to Greene's "Plays and Poems": as well as the Introduction to the "Pinner of Wakefield," and having also read a fair amount of Italian in the best of health and spirits. I have had almost every afternoon a delightful bicycle ride, resting in pretty places and thinking. Altogether a most delightful time: never in bed before 2.30 or 3. Maximæ gratiæ Deo benevolentissimo.

Seriously began my "Poetry and Poets of America" 10.30 on Monday morning, Aug. 10th, 1903. Finished, thank God, for it has been a tough piece of work, at 12.30 a.m., Sep. 4th, 1903. But this included 3 days' holiday, so it was 3 weeks and 1 day.

This evening, Sep. 7, 1903, I bring to a close a month's, or nearly a month's, visit to Oxford. I came on Aug. 7. I have been for three weeks and two days hard and incessantly at work on my three articles," The Poetry and Poets of America." It has been very hard and exacting work, and as it has preyed on my mind, the time though happy has been anxious, but I have had no deep depression though a good deal of the milder kind. Always a plunge in the river at 8.30: then breakfast 9.15:

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work from 10.30 to 5 as a rule: then bicycle ride then dinner 7.30: then rest: then work 9.30 to 3 a.m. nearly every day. Miles has been here and I have been in to see him three or four times he is delighted with my " American Poetry articles: Holmes, too. Pauline and dear baby came down for a day. Work satisfactorily finished, thanks be to God, and now for a bit of holiday. I have, except for anxiety, much enjoyed this visit. As the Fells are leaving I shall never see this little room again probably in which I have done so much work.

Another landmark gone. This evening, April 24th, 1904, somebody told me that he had seen in the Daily Chronicle that York Powell was dead. A false report, but to-day, May 10th, 1904, came the true news in a letter from Higgs, who said Powell died last Sunday. Thereupon Laurie and I went to the Athenæum Club to verify: it was too true. This was his last letter in answer to one from me saying that I could not see him again because he was an elector to the English Chair.1

(The letter reads as follows.)

GRANGE, BANBURY RD., OXFORD, 19, 4, '04.

MY DEAR COLLINS,-Don't be a fool: come of course; we are not two idiots or knaves, but upright men and our consciences clear.

It does me good to have a talk with you.-I am yrs. faithfully, F. YORK POWELL.

1 My father was then a candidate for the Chair of English Literature at Oxford.

-1905

HIS PROFESSORSHIP

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I write this on the evening of Jan. 18th, 1905, having been appointed to the Professorship of English Literature at Birmingham University, in lodgings, 2 Hagley Grove, Edgbaston. Quam arduæ vitæ bonus eventus!

CHAPTER XI

THE PASSMORE EDWARDS SCHOLARSHIP AT OXFORD

I

F he had been asked what achievement in

his life he was most proud of, he would have

related an achievement in which he was not the principal figure, and with which, publicly at least, he was not known to have any connection.

It has been seen that all his life he was continually hammering at the fact that for a true knowledge of English classics we must have some acquaintance with the classics of Greece and Rome; that our literature is steeped in the ancient classics; that the two should not be studied separately, but hand in hand with each other.

As there was nothing to encourage such a study, not even at Oxford or at Cambridge, he was anxious to see the foundation of a scholarship to carry out his views; he therefore set about looking for someone to provide the necessary capital.

Why he should have selected John Passmore Edwards for his victim is inexplicable. The name of Passmore Edwards, whose death is announced

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