of that, have I ever heard an American man or woman say 'in to dinner.' Try it on with your American and English

friends."

This is interesting, and I respectfully refer it to H. L. Mencken. Oscar Wilde said that, after all, America and England were very much alike, "except, of course, the language."

The death of William Archer is a severe loss to the world of thought and letters, and a sharp personal grief to me, for we had been intimate friends many years. The last night I was in England, September 29, 1924, I dined with him at the Reform Club, and we had much good talk. Throughout his long career as a dramatic critic, he devoted all his scholarship and persuasive powers toward the elevation of the drama. To him, more than to any other man, is due the English and American recognition of Ibsen; he endured an endless amount of ridicule and obloquy, surviving even Max Beerbohm's terrible cartoon. Americans ought to remember Archer with affection, for I do not think any British writer has taken a more cordial attitude toward the United States. He loved Americans, loved the American theatre, and loved even our furnaceheated houses. He was a Scotsman, and proud of it; but his extensive travels and long sojourns in remote corners of the earth had made him a citizen of the world. Incidentally, I never heard any man or woman speak the English language with more precision or with a more excellent enunciation.

The recent elevation of Lord Jellicoe in the ranks of British nobility reminds me of the time, just after the war, when I sat down to a late supper in a New York club with him and with that distinguished American, Charles M. Schwab. When I was told that I was to have the honor of a place at the small table, I supposed that I should see two men whose faces would bear the marks of the prodigious responsibilities and ceaseless labors forced upon them by the Great War. I do not see how any one could have borne a heavier burden than Admiral Jellicoe, who was in supreme command of the Grand Fleet;

carried through. To my a both men looked to be in abs fect condition. Admiral Jelli very model of a healthy old sa and telling stories as though h had a worry in his life; and M was the incarnation of genia physical capacity of certain n as amazing to me as their supp bration.

Among the new books, let n recommend "Memoirs of an Ed Years of American Journalism ward P. Mitchell, formerly edit of the New York Sun. Ther four hundred pages, and not on is dull. I am glad that Mr. Mi stepped out from the cover of jo anonymity into the full light c ship; for a man who can write s lish as this ought not to fail of re I see now why I, and every one to read The Sun, whether we ag it or not; that editorial page, i and Mitchell's régime, was the teresting in America. I reme editorial, at the time of Preside land's pronouncements on V where in the first phrase, two b killed with one shot: "The N Evening Post, which differed fro dent Cleveland on the only occas he happened to be right," etc. Mitchell's book, American Pr from Lincoln to Coolidge, are I review, and interesting anecdo about them; many letters, from guished authors, are printed for time; and a complete portrait is Charles A. Dana. The book is with common sense, shrewd tion on public men, on manners life; it is pervaded throughout hearty love of humanity and life. It might be used as a valu convincing text-book on the ar ing.

When I was a young man, I editorial for the New York Sun through the post, and was please it appear on the second day. S claim to be one of the anonymous of that editorial page. Incidenta article had the honor of receiving

hrough. To my amazement. looked to be in absolutely pertion. Admiral Jellicoe was the el of a healthy old salt, laughing

stories as though he had neve rry in his life; and Mr. Schwab incarnation of geniality. The capacity of certain men is fuly g to me as their supply of cere

the new books, let me hearti d"Memoirs of an Editor: Fiy American Journalism," by E Hitchell, formerly editor-in-chie w York Sun. There are over red pages, and not one of them am glad that Mr. Mitchell as at from the cover of journals · into the full light of auth man who can write such Eng ought not to fail of recognition vhy I, and every one else, used Sun, whether we agreed wi hat editorial page, in Dana's ell's régime, was the most i 1 America. I remember one : the time of President Cleve nouncements on Venezuela. e first phrase, two birds were one shot: "The New York t, which differed from Presi nd on the only occasion wher 1 to be right," etc. In Mr. book, American Presidents to Coolidge, are passed in interesting anecdotes told many letters, from distin ors, are printed for the first omplete portrait is made of Dana. The book is packed n sense, shrewd observa: men, on manners, and on vaded throughout with a of humanity and faith in : be used as a valuable and it-book on the art of liv

a young man, I wrote an e New York Sun, sent it st, and was pleased to see second day. So I can mous authors

Senator Hoar. Perhaps I ought to add that the comment was unfavorable.

John Masefield, whose skill in narrativeverse composition has been abundantly proven, has written a veritable thriller in his novel, "Sard Harker." There are many beautiful lyrical passages in this prose, but the reader will not be able to linger over them and enjoy them, because the story is so wildly exciting that one simply must find out what happens next. I forgot everything else while reading this book. I am grateful to the author for so much entertainment; on a rainy day I gave the novel to the famous golfer, Mr. Travis, and he told me it had saved his life. The difficulty of sequel-writing is once more illustrated by the Frenchman, André Maurois, chiefly famous as the author of "Ariel." His novel about Colonel Bramble was, I think, the most humorous book produced by the war; it had quality. Now he has endeavored to carry on in a story called "Les Discours du Docteur O'Grady," where the endeavor is more conspicuous than the result. It is a dull and worthless book.

The English novelist, J. C. Snaith, has written a diverting novel, "There is a Tide," dealing with the adventures of a raw American girl in England. Not only does the heroine talk the latest American dialect, but Mr. Snaith's researches in this strange lingo have been sufficiently successful to enable him to write page after page of description in United States slang. "Mame" comes from Cowbarn, Iowa, and mingles freely with the English nobility. This is an international novel, emphatically not in the manner of Henry James. It constantly reminds me of Henry James by its obtrusive contrast. What would he think of it?

When will Mr. Snaith write a book as good as "Broke of Covenden"?

I admire the American-Scandinavian Foundation for many things, and especially for the recent publication of "America of the Fifties: Letters of Fredrika Bremer." These have been selected from the original voluminous collection, which appeared in 1853. I congratulate the editor, Adolph B. Benson, on his skill in selection and condensation. for I do not

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pressions of America with more enj ment. Fredrika Bremer was a fam Swedish writer, who at about the age fifty travelled widely in the United Sta and wrote letters home to her sister. S is, of course, universally known in Sv den, where she has an unassailable pla among standard authors; it is my hc that the re-publication of these letters this volume will give her a renewed vog in America. The editor's comment just and truthful: "We may safely ass that Miss Bremer's greatest claim to i mortality abroad is based on her letters travel. These are classics of their kir as fresh and charming as on the day th were written, and the wealth of their i formation is enhanced by the sympathe personality of the recorder as well as their humorous, compelling style." I not know of any traveller in America w spent time to better advantage. seems to have seen everything worth se ing, to have heard everything worth hea ing, to have met everybody worth kno ing. She had many conversations wi Emerson, which she reports in deta she heard Daniel Webster make a gre speech in the Senate; she made a pen sketch of Washington Irving; she talk with those radicals, Phillips, Garriso Sumner, and Theodore Parker; she din with Longfellow, and liked the America wine; Whittier called on her; Charl Sumner read aloud to her a "poem prose" called "The Great Stone Face by a young writer named Nathaniel Ha thorne, whose latest work, "The Scarl Letter," "is making a great sensatio and is eulogized as a work of genius She heard in church "one of the be extempore Christian discourses that have ever heard in any country." T preacher was a young man out of t West, Henry Ward Beecher.

She not only made the most of her o portunities, but her descriptive letters a so vivid that we are enabled to share h good fortune. Possibly her literary sk was heightened by sympathy. At a ti when there was more than a certain co descension in foreigners, this is what s wrote:

I cannot tell whether I rightly know the Am

and fortunately did everyt to satisfy it. But although was fully aware of the immo his friend, and ranked his pl the works of Greece and Ro not foresee the intense interes in the twentieth century w his personality, character, to habits, and opinions.

One of the most important year 1925 is the second volu Alec Wilson's huge biography which takes us to the publicat French Revolution." Mr. W way of making every detail It is probably the most va graphical work of our time, a is finished, we shall know Car well made us know Johnson. of no other "Life" with whic fitly be compared. Although a great writer, he himself wa teresting than anything he wro new light is thrown on Jeffrey sees plainly why Carlyle, after Jeffrey's political attitude with wrote, "Yet, on the whole, he is best man I ever saw."

I take pains in these pages mend only those novels which 1 discriminating readers will enjoy say then that "The Three Host John Buchan, is so captivating takes and holds such a clutch on tention, that any one who does it ought to consult a physician.

I nominate for the Ignobl Trial by Jury. More than for ago I heard that distinguished ju ward J. Phelps, say in a public "Trial by Jury is a good thin has outlived its usefulness." T looks like a bad thing which cont demonstrate its uselessness.

tunately did everything possit y it. But although Ben Jons aware of the immortal genius d, and ranked his plays above s of Greece and Rome, he co ee the intense interest that peop wentieth century would have onality, character, temperamen nd opinions.

the most important books of 5 is the second volume in Davi son's huge biography of Cay kes us to the publication of "The Revolution." Mr. Wilson has making every detail interesting obably the most valuable bu work of our time, and when d, we shall know Carlyle as B eus know Johnson. I can that er "Life" with which this a mpared. Although Carlyle riter, he himself was more than anything he wrote. Mai is thrown on Jeffrey, and y why Carlyle, after criticising olitical attitude with seventy et, on the whole, he is about ever saw."

HE story of American landscapepainting has a peculiar interest because it constitutes the most decisively national achievement of our school. I have a particular reason for returning to it at this time. George Inness was born at Newburgh on May 1, 1825. In commemoration of his centenary the Macbeth Gallery in New York City arranged this season a loan exhibition of about thirty of his works, ranging from the sixties to his last period. It was a well-chosen, fairly representative collection, a good illustration of the art of Inness. I rejoiced in it for its own sake, and it set me to thinking about the whole development of American landscape art. It is a subject for which I have a special predilection, for it is one affirming the American genius in extraordinary fulness

and brilliance. In our earlier his when we were learning how to pain got our first impetus from the British dition of the eighteenth century, and justed that tradition specifically to lems of portraiture. Our first effor deal with the subject-picture remain, ically speaking, almost negligible. I sometimes wondered if our nearnes that time to the ideas of Puritanism not have something to do with it. ideas, still lingering in the air, may sibly have slowed up the attack upon study of the nude which bears so he upon the treatment of the figure. thought persists despite the essays i nude which can be discerned here there in our formative period. In case the fact remains that the signif

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portraiture by a certain rectit was in itself well calculated measure of stimulus to the evo better movement. It is custo reasonable to ascribe their fai sert themselves more effectively sufficient store of ideas behind is convenient and not unfair to we needed acquaintance with the look and the new methods bro

play around 1830 by the pain France. Of course Barbizon set beacon by which we were in due bound to profit. But the crux of t ter resided, as it always does, in th tion of personality. Everything depends upon the caliber of the Consider, for example, the case of Martin, born in 1836. He was a p William M. Hart, and when he beg not only conversant with the H River methods but whole-hearted ployed them. Yet Martin, havi tensely that gift which we call ter ment, presently emerged from und handicaps of his pupilage and p