we live, a land where "The Old World and the New World meet."

The poems in the last part are more introspective, and through some we hear the voice of the century crying for the light, uncertain, unsatisfied. This note sounds most clearly in "November," "The Ball and the Star," "Christmas," ," "The Poet's Sunday," and "The Tree." A touching monody in memory of Isabella Valancey Crawford - a Canadian poet whose song was early silenced and "Happy" are more distinctively from a woman's point of view. "Happy" is in its way one of the strongest poems in the book.

Mrs. Harrison's sketches and poems have appeared in English and Canadian and some also in American periodicals. Her poems in

There has been talk in abundance about editors, and of it all I remember little in their favor. May I add my experience to the fund already contributed?

As I am neither brilliant nor famous, the kindness shown me must have proceeded from the natural goodness of men's hearts. There have been some instances which would have been improved by a change. When my manuscript came back to me rolled, I was as vexed as when it returned decorated with cabalistic signs in blue pencilling, making some hours of work for me, but those annoyances have been overbalanced by the words of advice which busy editors have found time to write me. One editor has helped me so much that I account him a friend, although I do not so much as know his name, which is hidden in his official title of Literary Editor.

Rejected manuscripts have come back to me with a brief note saying that a trifling change here and there would make them suitable, or they have brought advice, telling me where to send them to have them located. I have before

It must be hard for a busy man to find time to send encouraging words to a tyro, and bits of lore from that source should be valued in the light of their cost to the giver. There probably are disagreeable men everywhere, but the editorial chair has but few of them, if my experience is any index for others. Even the editor who printed in a widely-known humorous paper an article of mine and never paid for it may not have been so far wrong. I said, "Use it at your usual rates," and maybe he did.

I think any beginner in writing who is not too sure he or she knows it all will find the

editor a friend. It is not well to be offended when manuscripts play the part of chickens, and come home, for out of one's failures one can find the path to success. One serves an apprenticeship in whatever he finally does well. Keep working toward your highest ideal, take

thankfully criticism when it is given, and you will not sing the usual song of contributors who are overwise in some things, though foolish enough to quarrel or insult him whose judgment they do not find pleasant. BOSTON, Mass. D. M. Morrell.

Our fiction to-day and our fiction of a few years ago are very different. Every phase of life or nature is studied, and the new and unusual are in great demand. Different countries have been brought into prominence by novelists. India, Africa, Siberia, Japan, Australia, and other countries, which formerly were given vague geographical mention, if they were mentioned at all, are now the scenes of much of our most popular fiction.

In America this tendency is strikingly apparent as regards certain sections of the country. Joel Chandler Harris, Thomas Nelson Page, Richard Malcolm Johnston, Miss Murfree, and others have given us the romance-ignorant and uncultivated, it is true, but still touchingwhich is found in the life of the negro and poor white of the South. We have the West of Bret Harte, "H. H.," Joaquin Miller, Mary Hallock Foote, and others. The denizen of the "Hoosier" state has had his portrait painted very ably by Edward Eggleston. The Eastern states are rich in gifted authors, but still some are looking for ungrazed pastures.

Between the Colorado of Mary Hallock Foote and Eggleston's Indiana, to the north of the land of Joel Chandler Harris and Thomas Nelson Page, lies a country which has not figured in literature as yet, save to furnish some stirring tales of Indian and border warfare. For the writer who shall give pen to the romantic element now existing on Kansas soil success and appreciation wait.

Situated in the centre of the continent, - its hills, with their ever-changing colors, upholding

the peaks of the Rocky mountains; its narrow valleys skirting the green fringed streams; and over all, its skies, the like of which are not found outside of Italy, it is a country to inspire the pen to the creation of characters for its peopling. The imagination is not needed in this, however, as the necessary elements are upon every hand.

I do not mean to say that there is any difference between the comfortable, well-to-do dwellers of Kansas cities and farms, and those of any other state. Everything is grist that comes to the mill of the author. The sod-house and the dug-out of Kansas are fast passing away along with the Indian and the buffalo, but from these characteristic dwellings might come forth stories which would be read and wept over by a nation of people. There is enough material wasted upon the brown hill-tops of western Kansas every year to furnish an army of authors, if it could but be utilized.

The

The life of the poor emigrant is more productive of romance than that of the Georgia "cracker," and more pathetic because of his consciousness of poverty and humble position, and his desire for something better. worn-faced men and women, steadfastly putting behind them the memory of desires ungratified, resolutely keeping in sight their hopes for future success, need some one to tell their story. While Kansas has a number of gifted authors, their writings are cosmopolite, not Kansan.

We are waiting. Where is the gifted Moses who is to lead us into the Canaan of literature? SALINA, Kansas. May Belleville Brown.

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The quality of the "book reviews" published in American newspapers and magazines might profitably be improved. The leading magazines or those of them that notice booksemploy skilled reviewers, and some of the weekly papers do the same; but four out of five of the book reviews published throughout the country are unworthy of the name. On daily newspapers the " literary editor" is generally a busy journalist, who has to "write up the new books" as a part of his duties, and who does not have time, even if he has the ability, to give to them the careful attention that is required. He

struggles constantly with the pile of books accumulating on his desk, taking a hurried glance through each, and then writing something about it, using publishers' notices, reviews from other papers, or anything that he can get to aid him in making his "notice " appear as if he had read the book. Once in a while he does run through an important book, but most of the volumes that come to his desk are dismissed with a cursory examination and a "notice," which generally is not worth the space it occupies.

There are a few newspapers whose reviewers do their work conscientiously and well. Mr. Haseltine's reviews, signed "M. W. H.," in the New York Sun, are scholarly and critical, and usually have the value of independent articles on the subjects of which they treat. The New York Tribune and the New York Times publish reviews which mean something to authors and publishers, and upon which the reading public may depend for guidance. The reviews in the New York Evening Post are reprinted from the Nation, and are thorough and intelligent. In Boston, the Post, the Advertiser, the Transcript, and the Herald, among the dailies, print the best reviews, but the standard is not so high as that of the New York papers that have been named. The Herald frequently prints long special articles about important books, which are usually valuable, and Mrs. Louise Chandler Moulton's critical articles may always be read with interest. In Philadelphia, the reviews in the Ledger, the Bulletin, the Telegraph, the Inquirer, the Press, and the Times are the most carefully prepared. In Chicago, the Times, the Tribune, and the Inter-Ocean give a great deal of space to book reviews, and the work of the reviewers is generally good. In San Francisco, the Chronicle, in Baltimore, the American, in New Orleans, the Times-Democrat, in Cincinnati, the Commercial Gazette, in Cleveland, the Plain Dealer, and in Detroit, the Free Press print good reviews; while among papers in the smaller cities the Providence Journal, the Hartford Post, the Hartford Courant, the Springfield Republican, and the Newark Advertiser deserve especial mention. While this list is not meant to be complete, there are few daily papers outside of those that have

been named that print more than perfunctory book notices. The weekly papers do better, but there are only a score or so of weeklies that print book reviews as good as those, for instance, of the Independent, the Nation, the Christian Union, the Observer, the Congregationalist, the Epoch, the Boston Beacon, the Pittsburg Bulletin, the Churchman, the Agonaut, and the Boston Courier. There are a great many other papers, of course, that print good reviews of many books, but they cannot as a rule be depended upon for a good review of every book that gets attention from the literary editor.

The difficulty is, not that the literary editor is at fault, but that in most newspaper offices he is required to do too much. It is absolutely impossible for any newspaper to review adequately every book that is published. The quality of newspaper "literary columns" would be greatly improved if all editors were to follow the rule which is followed by the Sun, the Times, and the Tribune in New York, and which is not followed by other daily papers with equal strictness, not to print "reviews" of books that have not been intelligently read, and to notice only the most important books, giving such brief descriptions, without attempting criticism, of the others as will guide readers to a knowledge of what they are. If this rule were generally followed, the opinions of book reviewers would have more weight than they have now, and publishers, authors, and reviewers would all be ⚫ benefited.

QUERIES.

W. H. H.

[Questions relating to literary work or literary topics may be asked and answered in this department. Both questions and answers must be brief, and of general interest. Questions on general topics should be directed elsewhere.]

Is there authority for writing the days of the week without capitals? Some one thinks Reed and Kellogg's grammar allows it. A telegrapher has aroused the discussion in the interest of rapid writing, as capitals require more time and labor in forming than small letters. If "to-day " is writen with a small "t," why not write "friday" with a small "f"? The days of the week are derived from proper nouns, but custom no longer capitalizes "platonic or “academy," similar name derivatives. A century or so ago all our

Will you kindly allow a Canadian to ask if the expressions, "he don't," "she don't," and "it don't," are considered grammatical by the American press? I find them freely used in newspapers and books. I also notice that in speaking of the days of the week the preposition "on" is frequently left out, as "I shall be there Monday," instead of, "I shall be there on Monday." I also lately read in an American journal," he had to sit up nights." English writers consider the examples quoted as very grave mistakes. Will you please tell me if they are tolerated, and if so, why, by American authors of repute?

M. L. S.

[The use of "don't" with a singular subject is ungrammatical and improper, and it is a pity that it is so common. Very many of the best American writers prefer not to use "on" with the names of the days of the week. The phrase,

"Guess.". A correspondent leads us to infer that the use of "I guess" for "I think" is a Yankeeism, and that the words "are by no means synonyms." This erroneous impression is gradually being effaced from our rhetorics. The word " 'guess" comes from the well of English pure and undefiled. Chaucer in his description of the squire says: "Of twenty yeer of age he was I gesse." The same use is found in passages in Milton, Dryden, and Shakespeare. MALDEN, Mass.

BOOK REVIEWS.

F. A. B.

Who" Politikos " may be is an open question, and there are signs in the well-made volume indicating that he is a composite character, but as "Politikos," without too close examination, he is certainly marvellously well-informed concerning the royal personages of Europe and the current history and court life of all the European countries. His book is history in its most palatable form, modern history, treating of events and people with which all intelligent persons are more or less familiar, and spiced with anecdote and gossip that make its characters seem something more than ghost-like figures stalking through the unreal atmosphere of the shadowy past. It is the story of interesting