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ification； and partly to win the reader to 〃Wishmakers' Town；〃 not knowing better how to do it。
Myrtle； and eglantine； For the old love and the new！ And the columbine； With its cap and bells； for folly！ And the daffodil； for the hopes of youth！ and the rue； For melancholy！ But of all the blossoms that blow； Fair gallants all； I charge you to win； if ye may； This gentle guest； Who dreams apart； in her wimple of purple and gray； Like the blessed Virgin； with meek head bending low Upon her breast。 For the orange flower Ye may buy as ye will： but the violet of the wood Is the love of maidenhood； And he that hath worn it but once； though but for an hour； He shall never again； though he wander by many a stream； No； never again shall he meet with a dower that shall seem So sweet and pure； and forever； in after years； At the thought of its bloom； or the fragrance of its breath； The past shall arise； And his eyes shall be dim with tears； And his soul shall be far in the gardens of Paradise Though he stand in the Shambles of death。
In a different tone； but displaying the same sureness of execution； is the cry of the lowly folk； the wretched pawns in the great game of life：
Prince； and Bishop； and Knight； and Dame； Plot； and plunder； and disagree！ O but the game is a royal game！ O but your tourneys are fair to see！
None too hopeful we found our lives； Sore was labor from day to day； Still we strove for our babes and wives Now； to the trumpet； we march away！
〃Why？〃For some one hath will'd it so！ Nothing we know of the why or the where To swamp； or jungle； or wastes of snow Nothing we know； and little we care。
Give us to kill！since this is the end Of love and labor in Nature's plan； Give us to kill and ravish and rend； Yea； since this is the end of man。
States shall perish； and states be born： Leaders； out of the throng； shall press； Some to honor； and some to scorn： We； that are little； shall yet be less。
Over our lines shall the vultures soar； Hard on our flanks shall the jackals cry； And the dead shall be as the sands of the shore； And daily the living shall pray to die。
Nay； what matter！When all is said； Prince and Bishop will plunder still： Lord and Lady must dance and wed。 Pity us； pray for us； ye that will！
It is only the fear of impinging on Mr。 Young's copyright that prevents me reprinting the graphic ballad of The Wanderer and the prologue of The Strollers； which reads like a page from the prelude to some Old…World miracle play。 The setting of these things is frequently antique； but the thought is the thought of to… day。 I think there is a new generation of readers for such poetry as Mr。 Young's。 I ven… ture the prophecy that it will not lack for them later when the time comes for the inevitable rearrangement of present poetic values。 The author of 〃Wishmakers' Town〃 is the child of his period； and has not escaped the ma… ladie du siecle。 The doubt and pessimism that marked the end of the nineteenth century find a voice in the bell…like strophes with which the volume closes。 It is the dramatist rather than the poet who speaks here。 The real message of the poet to mankind is ever one of hope。 Amid the problems that perplex and discourage； it is for him to sing
Of what the world shall be When the years have died away。
HISTORICAL NOVELS
IN default of such an admirable piece of work as Dr。 Weir Mitchell's 〃Hugh Wynne；〃 I like best those fictions which deal with king… doms and principalities that exist only in the mind's eye。 One's knowledge of actual events and real personages runs no serious risk of re… ceiving shocks in this no…man's…land。 Everything that happens in an imaginary realmin the realm of Ruritania； for illustrationhas an air of possibility； at least a shadowy vraisemblance。 The atmosphere and local color； having an au… thenticity of their own； are not to be challenged。 You cannot charge the writer with ignorance of the period in which his narrative is laid； since the period is as vague as the geography。 He walks on safe ground； eluding many of the perils that beset the story…teller who ventures to stray beyond the bounds of the make…believe。 One peril he cannot escapethat of misrepresenting human nature。 The anachronisms of the average historical novel； pretending to reflect history； are among its minor defects。 It is a thing altogether won… derfully and fearfully madethe imbecile in… trigue； the cast…iron characters； the plumed and armored dialogue with its lance of gory rheto… ric forever at charge。 The stage at its worst moments is not so unreal。 Here art has broken into smithereens the mirror which she is sup… posed to hold up to nature。 In this romance…world somebody is always somebody's unsuspected father； mother； or child； deceiving every one excepting the reader。 Usu… ally the anonymous person is the hero； to whom it is mere recreation to hold twenty swordsmen at bay on a staircase； killing ten or twelve of them before he escapes through a door that ever providentially opens directly behind him。 How tired one gets of that door！ The 〃caitiff〃 in these chronicles of when knighthood was in flower is invariably hanged from 〃the highest battlement〃the second highest would not do at all； or else he is thrown into 〃the deepest dungeon of the castle〃the second deepest dungeon was never known to be used on these occasions。 The hero habitually 〃cleaves〃 his foeman 〃to the midriff；〃 the 〃midriff〃 being what the properly brought up hero always has in view。 A certain fictional historian of my acquaintance makes his swashbuckler exclaim： 〃My sword will ＇shall＇ kiss his midriff；〃 but that is an exceptionally lofty flight of diction。 My friend's heroine dresses as a page； and in the course of long interviews with her lover re… mains unrecognizeda diaphanous literary in… vention that must have been old when the Pyra… mids were young。 The heroine's small brother； with playful archaicism called 〃a springald；〃 puts on her skirts and things and passes him… self off for his sister or anybody else he pleases。 In brief； there is no puerility that is not at home in this sphere of misbegotten effort。 Listen a priest； a princess； and a young man in woman's clothes are on the scene：
The princess rose to her feet and approached the priest。 〃Father；〃 she said swiftly； 〃this is not the Lady Joan； my brother's wife； but a youth marvelously like her； who hath offered himself in her place that she might escape。 。 。 。 He is the Count von Loen； a lord of Kernsburg。 And I love him。 We want you to marry us now； dear Fathernow； without a moment's delay； for if you do not they will kill him； and I shall have to marry Prince Wasp！〃
This is from 〃Joan of the Sword Hand；〃 and if ever I read a more silly performance I have forgotten it。
POOR YORICK
THERE is extant in the city of New York an odd piece of bric…a…brac which I am sometimes tempted to wish was in my own possession。 On a bracket in Edwin Booth's bedroom at The Playersthe apartment re… mains as he left it that solemn June day ten years agostands a sadly dilapidated skull which the elder Booth； and afterward his son Edwin； used to soliloquize over in the grave… yard at Elsinore in the fifth act of 〃Hamlet。〃 A skull is an object that always invokes interest more or less poignant； it always has its pathetic story； whether told or untold； but this skull is especially a skull 〃with a past。〃 In the early forties； while playing an engage… ment somewhere in the wild West； Junius Brutus Booth did a series of kindnesses to a particularly undeserving fellow； the name of him unknown to us。 The man； as it seemed； was a combination of gambler； horse…stealer； and highwaymanin brief； a miscellaneous desperado； and precisely the melodramatic sort of person likely to touch the sympathies of the half…mad player。 In the course of nature or the law； presumably the law； the adventurer bodily disappeared one day； and soon ceased to exist even as a reminiscence in the florid mind of his sometime benefactor。 As the elder Booth was seated at breakfast one morning in a hotel in Louisville； Kentucky； a negro boy entered the room bearing a small osier basket neatly covered with a snowy nap… kin。 It had the general appearance of a basket of fruit or flowers sent by some admirer； and as such it figured for a moment in Mr。 Booth's conjecture。 On lifting the cloth the actor started from the chair with a genuine expression on his features of that terror which he was used so marvelously to simulate as Richard III。 in the midnight tent…scene or as Macbeth when the ghost of Banquo usurped his seat at table。 In the pretty willow…woven basket lay the head of Booth's old pensioner； which head the old pensioner had bequeathed in due legal form to the tragedian； begging him henceforth to adopt it as one of the