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the The author reviews ceive it. changes in the popular attitude towards the disease and its treatment, discusses the measures now deemed remedial, and gives interesting statistics as to the decrease in cases of the disease. Inasmuch as this decrease began more than half a century ago, and had risen to more than fifty per cent. in some localities, it is plain that the value of the new treatment is not easily computed, but its remedial effect in early stages and its palliative effect in all has been demonstrated, and Dr. Otis's book, being simply and clearly written will be an excellent agent in aiding its good work. Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.

"Why was not this book written long ago?" is a question highly complimentary to the work evoking it, and one can hardly refrain from putting it after examining Mr. Hubert Bouce Fuller's "The Speakers of the House." Mr. Fuller begins his task by giving a brief sketch of the English speakership and of the Colonial speakers, and then epitomizes the life and work of the Speakers of the House of Representatives, giving a personal sketch of each one, a sketch of which the length is determined exactly by the importance of the man. "The Greatest of American Speakers" is his name for Clay. Stevens is a hero; Blaine he regards with sympathy so strong that he accuses Grant of plotting against him; he reproves the present Speaker for appropriation of powers belonging

to his fellow members. As a whole, the book is well written, but the introduction of such odd collocations of syllables as "slavocrats" and "slavocracy" is to be regretted; the English language is quite adequate to express the feelings of the historian, and the use of such terms merely confuses readers to whom words have a definite meaning. Little, Brown & Co.

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The sole unlikeness between "Aunt Jane of Kentucky," and "The Land of Long Ago" is that the nine stories of the latter are not the same as those in the former volume. It is true that in most cases this especial unlikeness would be the only point of importance, but in the work of Eliza Calvert Hall, as in that of the late Miss Jewett, it is the fine pervading spirit of charity that is the especial attraction. Let her write of what she will, she makes her readers see it at its best, and when her subject is really congenial the glow and fervor of her manner is heart warming. Two or three pages on flower perfumes in "A Ride to Town," the first story in this book, will become classic if there be any justice in literary fate. The good parson and the princely squire of "The House that was a Wedding Fee" are a pair worthy to be remembered long. "The Courtship of Miss Amaryllis" has a wonderfully idyllic melancholy; "Aunt Jane Goes a-Visiting" shows the possibility of perfect sympathy between rusticity and cosmopolitan breeding, "if love be there"; "The Marriage Problem in Goshen" should soothe some of those who despair of the republic because of divorces; "An Eye for an Eye" is a lesson in kindness for selfish husbands, and "The Reformation of Amos" is a perfect substitute for a temperance lecture; "In War Time" reveals one of the obscure heroines of the Civil War, and "The Watch Meeting" illumines a whole village. Such are the stories, each one taking an independent and unhackneyed view of the world, and worth reading even if they were written with cold hardness. The book has an illuminated title page, and excellent pictures and chapter headings, by Mr. G. P. Nelson and Miss Beulah Strong and a cover on which one sees Aunt Jane through a strawberry frame, the strawberry being the present glory of Kentucky. Little, Brown & Co.

SEVENTH SERIES
VOLUME XLV.

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No. 3408 October 30, 1909

FROM BEGINNING
VOL. CCLXIII.

CONTENTS

1. An Hour with the Pope. By Renè Lara FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW 259 Debussy: His Science and

II.

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His Music. By A. E. Keeton

Chapter IV. Sandylane Hill.
tinued.)

NINETEENTH CENTURY AND AFTER
Chapter III. My Landlady's Chamber.
By Ashton Hilliers. (To be con-

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The Art of Dining. By Elizabeth Martindale

The Novels of Anthony Trollope.

A Spoiler at Noonday. By R. O. M.
"Hara." By I. M.

To Halley's Comet. By Owen Seaman
To-day in Madrid. By William T. Goode .
The Romantic Movement in English Poetry.

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SATURDAY REVIEW 310

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FOR SIX DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, THE LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage, to any part of the United States. To Canada the postage in 50 cents per annum.

Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office or express money order if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, express and money orders should be made payable to the order of THE LIVING AGE Co.

Single Copies of THE LIVING AGE, 15 cents.

A TOAST. Sea-captains, and men of the ships, You who carry the country's fame, You who sail where the red sun dips Or prison the utmost powers of flame And steam down Channel to Orient bays

Broad and blue in a stronger light, London knows, and landsmen praiseFollow your vigils and watch your days;

Sea-captains, and men of the ships,
A health to your vessels to-night!
Sea-captains, and men of the deep,

Who ride with the English flag un-
furled,

Who share between you the boon of sleep

Watch on watch, half round the world,

Here's to the swoop of the Lizard

gleam,

The green-clad cone of the Rame ahead,

Or a signal of "Passed" from the Start abeam

Fair runs to the harbors of which you dream;

Here's luck, and no need for the lead!

Men and women and children at home Follow your track by the printed page,

Listen at night to the wind and foam,

Hold your letters as love's true gage; Rough little heads find Sunda Strait, Aden, Tacoma, or far Kowloon, Rio, or 'Frisco's Golden Gate; Mark your passage and fix each date;— Sea-captains, and men of the deep, Turn again homeward soon!

Think of home, when the still, soft sheen

Of the big moon glows on the Indian bay;

When the engines race, and the funnels lean

To right, to left, through the sluicing spray;

When pale Polaris her star-chain dips And new worlds glitter where gray dawn frowned:

Think of home, O men of the ships, Of those who name you with trembling

lips,

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AN HOUR WITH THE POPE.

The time is past when one might say, with a certain erstwhile ambassador of the Grand-Duchy of Tuscany: "I have achieved my greatest diplomatic success; I have succeeded in speaking with the Pope."

Vatican manners have become more democratic since those days; and, however true it may be that the august recluse who, from his seat on St. Peter's throne, guides the destinies of Catholic mankind, has retained for us his grave and mysterious attraction, it is none the less the case that the bronze gates which close the papal sanctuary to the outer world are opened more frequently than of old, not only to diplomatists and pilgrims, but also to the mere casual travelers whom a feeling of respectful curiosity brings to their threshold.

The views of Pius X. differ entirely from those of his predecessor on this point as on many others. Pius X. is a man of the people, and prides himself upon it; Leo XIII. was an aristocrat, and never denied it. I believe, in reality, that the difference between them was more particularly marked by their respective conceptions of their missions and of the parts which they were called upon to play.

Leo XIII. considered that the papacy should keep up the spell of its mystery and its splendor and fight against the progress of equalitarian ideas by setting itself to maintain in all their severity the strict and complicated forms of etiquette which the Holy See had been pleased to observe since the period of the Renaissance. Pius X., on the other hand, when donning the tiara, declared that he intended to be "the poor man's Pope." Taking his inspiration from the beautiful words spoken by Christ. "Come to Me, all you that labor and are bur

dened," he wished to make himself accessible to all: and it would depend only upon the goodwill of those around him to make him even more accessible than he already is.

I knew this when I went to the Vatican on the occasion of my last visit to Rome; I knew how affable the Pope's simplicity was, but how difficult any access to his person remained for one who, like myself, had neglected to provide himself with letters of introduction.

To obtain an audience appeared, to those whom I questioned, an excess of ambition. Nevertheless, I made inquiries as to the preliminary steps which had to be taken in order to approach the presence of Pius X., and I was told that I must begin by appealing to the kindness of Monsignor Bisleti.

The maestro di Camera, who acts as Master of Ceremonies or Lord Chamberlain to the Holy Father, is not very difficult of access, although he is bound to deny himself to those persistent ladies and gentlemen-especially the ladies-who, day after day, wish to carry away from the Vatican a blessing or an autograph. Their patience and their indiscretion are alike indefatigable. They are really terrible, those good ladies who slip up Monsignor Bisleti's staircase, force their way into the waiting-room, and there, with hats drawn up in battle array and with aggressive glances assail the beardless young abbé who acts as secretary to the distinguished prelate, and who, in his despair, invokes the aid of invisible powers aganst those obstinate canvassers for audiences. His appeals avail him not at all for, to the curt and dry "Impossible" which they receive full in the face, after three or four hours' waiting, the fair postulants oppose the

frank indifference of deaf people clinging to a fixed idea; they sit down again and smile.

The sight was not of a nature calculated to encourage me. I had already perceived on the young abbé's thin lips a hint, a glimmer of the traditional demurrer. I resolved to hustle things.

"I wish to see Monsignor Bisleti on a matter of importance," I said, producing my card.

"I doubt whether- -" he began.
"Please give him my card.”

Ten minutes later I was shown in to the head of the papal household.

His slender figure emerged, violetclad, from a dark corner of the spacious study in which he receives his visitors. The suppleness of his movements and the keenness of his glance make him appear the classical type of the Roman prelate. The head is intelligent, the lips pale; the eyes, for all their sharpness, have that look of weariness, which is not without its charm, of eyes that have read much. He speaks most European languages admirably, and his manner is courteous in the extreme.

When I confessed the object of my visit he seemed profoundly astonished. "You wish to see the Holy Father? It is very difficult. However, I will try to give you a permit to attend his As for obtaining a private audience, you will have to put your name down at least a week in advance."

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"The fact is that I have to leave Rome the day after tomorrow."

"In that case there is no use thinking about it. . . ."

"Still, Monsignor, if you would do me the favor to submit my request to His Holiness. .

"Certainly I will; but I doubt if it will be granted."

My wife and I took leave of Monsignor Bisleti without cherishing any

great hope; and we had already given up our plan when, while we were sitting at breakfast the next morning in the dining-room of the hotel, the porter came up to me, with a wide, beatific smile on his face, and said:

"There is a messenger from the Vatican outside, sir, who wishes to deliver a letter to you in person."

I found a tall footman, dressed all in black, waiting for me in the hall. He handed me a huge envelope sealed with the papal arms. The envelope contained a card for an audienza privata, inviting me, with my wife, to the private apartments of Pius X. at noon that day.

What miraculous sorcery had caused my wishes to be so promptly heard? Obviously the Pope did not share Monsignor Bisleti's preconceived opinions as to the faculty of granting audiences.

A thoughtful postscript at the foot of the biglietto d'audienza mentioned the ceremonial dress to be worn when visiting the Pope: "court cloaks" for the cardinals, silk cloaks for the bishops. Laymen were to don a swallow-tail coat and white tie; ladies were admitted only in black gowns, with a lace mantilla on their heads and no gloves.

In that wonderful city which is the Vatican, Pius X. has left the Appartamenti Borgia to his Secretary of State, and has fixed his own residence on the third story. The Scala Pia and the Cortile di San Damaso lead straight up to it; but there is another and a finer road which, starting from the Portone di Bronzo, takes in the Scala Regia, winds round the statue of Constantine the Great, plunges into a maze of mysterious staircases, emerges in the Stanza dello Spirito Santo, passes through the Sala di Constantino, and follows the Loggie di Raffaello until it ends outside the Pontifical waiting

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