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pose of the world's guest-room ex of Meredith Janvier, dealer in clusively for mere men!

portraits, prints, and "collector's To be sure Wilkie Collins's novel is volumes, and who runs a quaint, The Woman in White and not the delightful bookshop in Baltimore, "Lady.” That was

very careless

suggests in one of its items the slip on our part, but we wonder question “Is It Possible to Tell a whether Mr. Morley himself is not New Book from an Old One?” as the original trespasser.

one finds listed in this catalogue the

“first edition,” “bds., uncut,” of ChrisMr. Augustine Birrell one time topher Morley’s Songs for a Little

wrote an essay called House, a book of verse published Our

Is it Possible to Tell quite within the memory of man, last Rapid Age a Good Book from a year in fact. Mr. Janvier informs

Bad One? Be that his clientele of bibliophiles that this as it may, the recent catalogue book is one "for the wing chair at

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AMELITA GALLI-CURCI, OF THE CHICAGO OPERA COMPANY, IN MEYER

BEER'S “DINORAH,” THE OPERA SHE CHOSE AS HER INTRODUCTION
TO A NEW YORK AUDIENCE. SHE IS THE "SENSATIONAL SUCCESS"
OF THE MUSIC WORLD, ACCORDING TO THE PAPER IN THIS - ISSUE,
“CHICAGO'S OPERATIC DRIVE

99

the hour when dusk and darkness returned. These books are not only fall. A book to read before and after withdrawn from the open shelves, dinner, supper and breakfast, if one they are interned, where they are abwould help along his good digestion.” solutely inaccessible and will remain

so.” No one could question the wisdom of removing books of recent pro-German propaganda from gen. eral circulation; but to make them “absolutely inaccessible,” even to students, journalists, historians, and preachers of patriotic sermons, and to add to the small list of such books which a library of the size of Pasadena's might have acquired the works of such world-figures as Nietzsche and Treitschke and volumes of entirely innocent general literature to the number of three hundred, and to hint that this proscription may be continued after the war, is an act of hysterical piety which would not be endured for a single day by any community in which the spirit of democracy was alert.

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OF

Is the moral and intellectual fibre of the citizens of Pasadena so poor

that the chance disThe Camel covery in a German Enters

book that Germany

was not entirely de

void of all the virtues would lessen CAPTAIN ALAN BOTT, M.C, THE ROYAL FLYING CORPS, AUTHOR OF “CAVALRY OF THE

their efforts to win the war? or have CLOUDS.” A VETERAN AIR-MAN OF TWENTY the love of democracy and the inFOUR

stinct of human kindness grown so

weak in them that the mere reading “We must fight the thought, the of Treitschke and Nietzsche could philosophy back of this war, if we are convert them to Prussianism and

to win,” says brutality? or have they so completely A Librarian Nellie M. Russ, the li. lost their belief in the power of Ram pant brarian of the Pasa truth and in freedom of thought that

dena Public Library, they are ready to fight a philosophy in an interview in the Pasadena Star- by trying to suppress it? or have they News. “I recently began a thorough exalted war to such an extent that weeding-out, with the result that all everything German is to be placed books printed in German have been under a tribal taboo?—if any or all removed, and all modern German of these explanations are true Pasaphilosophy, even including Nietzsche dena has sunk into a parlous state and Treitschke, which many libraries and ought to be investigated for the retain. Some three hundred books good of the nation. If the camel of have been set aside for the term of conservatism once gets his cold, susthe war-perhaps longer, and others picious nose well under the public are being added as fast as they are library tent it may be difficult to pre

Miss

vent him from following it with his whole ungainly body—and the public library is a tent in one of democracy's outposts. But perhaps Pasa. dena is only trying to supply her tourists with that quaint, mediæval flavour so dear to the tourist heart, but formerly obtainable only in Europe.

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MAY

May Sinclair's new book, The Tree of Heaven, has been well spoken of

by the "authorities." This Tree

We found it stupid.
Would Not
It bored us.

To be
Flourish in
Heaven

sure, it is a carefully

thought-out study of a phase of the social revolution that

was proceeding before the war and is now brought to a crisis by the catastrophe—the renaissance of the human spirit in the Younger Generation, the questioning of institutions, the demand for liberty, the desire for sanity in the ways of living, and of course, the conflict with the Elders whose interest is in maintaining the established folk. ways; then comes the war and the Young Ones come into their own, while the pressure of circumstance is

LATEST BOOK, "THE so great as to break down their re

SINCLAIR. HER

TREE OF HEAVEN," IS A STUDY OF WAR's sistance and the Elders accept the

EFFECT UPON ENGLISH LIFE new order.

It is an interesting theme, much is being written about she only had a little humour, a little it-perhaps it is the big theme for brilliance, a little optimism to il. novelists to-day. But it deals with a lumine her realism-but, as Rupert situation that is full of promise; we Hughes would say, we can't have all know that the world is wrong, everything. that society is upside down, that the masses thrust upward apace—but we Since the appearance of Limehouse mean to do something about it, we Nights the reading world has recog. mean to set ourselves right side up,

nised in its author, we see through the gloom of war the “London Thomas Burke, a new promise of better things. Miss Sin- Lampsliterary planet. These clair sees no Promise, she feels the

stories, appearing in oppression of destiny, she depresses book form last fall, have the keen her readers. Wells writes of the tang of reality infused with the primsame changing order, but the empha- itive desires of the human heart that sis of his interest is upon the desire appeal to our ever-fresh sentiment for of men for betterment and upon the high adventure; nothing like them hope of the future; Miss Sinclair has been written since, in his early sees no hope and feels no desire. If days, Kipling sang of the passionate

Here, by the winter fire,

Life is our own; Here, out of murk and mire,

Here is our throne.

Then let the wide world throng

To pomps and powers, And leave us with the love and song

Of lamplit hours.

Frank A. Lewis, who has served in

the American Field 0. Henry

Ambulance abroad, in the

writes to the PublishTrenches

ers' Weekly something about the need for books in the trenches:

For several weeks no reading matter could be located in the section to which I was attached. Finally, one of the boys received a copy of O. Henry's Options in a package from home, and an hour of insane jubilation ensued. The book was seized by indelicate hands and torn into segments, each part representing a story. The pages of each story were pinned to. gether. The original owner of the volume was selected to serve as Section Librarian. We pored over those stories until the print. ing actually wore off the pages. When The Head Hunter came me for the seventh time, the only thing I could be sure of was the title. But I didn't need to re-read it. I could have told that tale almost by rote.

to

East. A limited edition of Burke's London Lamps has just been issuedsongs that may not ineptly be called poetic versions of his stories in Limehouse Nights. A few of these verses originally appeared as chapter head. ings in Mr. Burke's earlier volume, Nights in London, and as the title suggests, they each deal with some aspect of London's ever-changing personality. Before quoting from London Lampswe must give our readers a few. verses simply to arouse their desire for more

let us

announce that a new volume of Mr. Burke's will shortly be issued under the title, Twinkletoes, a novel of a Limehouse dancer in which many of the characters of Limehouse Nights will reappear. Now for the verses from Lon. don Lamps:

Just to show you what we thought of books, Brentano's Paris store was the second place we visited on our first leave from the front—the first was a restaurant.

CITY DUSK

The day dies in a wrath of cloud,

Flecking her roofs with pallid rain, And dies its music, harsh and loud,

Struck from the tiresome strings of pain.

Her highways leap to festal bloom,

And swallow-swift the traffic skims O'er sudden shoals of light and gloom,

Made lovelier where the distance dims.

Robed by her tiring-maid, the dusk,

The town lies in a silvered bower, As, from a miserable husk,

The lily robes herself with flower.

And all her tangled streets are gay,

And all her rudenesses are gone;
For, howso pitiless the day,
The evening brings delight alone.

And one more little poem that must be quoted:

THE LAMPLIT HOUR

Collecting is one of the “natural lines of defence" of the confirmed

amateur, and he has Japanese made a brave stand Colour Prints there, but the spirit of

intelligence has been invading this realm as relentlessly as it has every other, and the result has undoubtedly been a greater pleasure for the collector who has been will. ing to yield. Mr. Basil Stewart has now come forward with a little book On Collecting Japanese Color-Prints to clear up a subject which the amateur has always found rather obscure. He tells what prints are most worth acquiring and why, which ones should be avoided, and how to

Dusk—and the lights of home

Smile through the rain:
A thousand smiles for those that come

Homeward again.

What though the night be drear

With gloom and cold,
So that there be one voice to hear,

One hand to hold?

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ISHIYAMA TEMPLE, BY THE SHORE OF LAKE BIWA; FROM THE

"SIXTY-ODD PROVINCES" SERIES (FIRST EDITION). FROM "ON
COLLECTING JAPANESE COLOUR PRINTS," BY BASIL STEWART

detect counterfeits and reprints, and of the subject and the advanced gives some hint as to the prices works which make up its existing which should be paid. He gives a literature. Mr. Stewart quotes with short history of the art, describes approval the passage in the will of the process by which prints were Edmond de Goncourt in which he made, analyses the work of the disposes of the treasures that he has most important men of the school, collected during his lifetime: "My and interprets the puzzling charac wish is that my prints, my curios, ters that are scattered so promiscu my books—in a word those things ously across the surface of their pro of art which have been the joy of my ductions. It bridges very competently life—shall not be consigned to the the gap between complete ignorance

cold tomb of a museum

. ; but

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