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LITERARY TOPICS IN BOSTON.

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BOSTON, April 15, 1890. HAVE more than once, in sundry places and at divers times, expressed a feeling that the Browning societies were, for the most part, nonsense, and not infrequently humbug as well. That there is too much ground for this position I am still forced to believe, and I could tell more than one anecdote of the truth

of which I am assured which would illustrate it; but instead I wish to tell an incident which was told me the other day by a lady who lives outside of Boston. Her husband is a professional man in a pleasant little village, and both are not only of literary tastes but of proved literary ability. They wished to do something for the intellectual development of their fellow-villagers, and took advantage of the fashion for Browning clubs. to get one started in the town.

With genuine literary generosity they made the invitation to this general, and, somewhat to the surprise of those who were present, a couple of mill hands, young men of no especial education but of good intelligence, came to the first meeting. It ma, have been with the idea that these men would feel more at home if they were at once given an active part, but, from whatever reason, to each of them was assigned a poem which he was to read aloud at the next meeting of the club.

The event proved the wisdom of the act. The two workmen went at the study of the poems in good earnest. They said after ward that at first they could not make much out of them, but that in the end they took off coat and waistcoat, and for half the night not once but several times they studied the lines, so that when it came to the reading their rendering was delightfully intelligent. They had entered the door to a new intellectual life.

The thought of those two honest fellows sitting by the midnight light-in which probably burned the most prosaic of kerosene oil! -working in their shirt-sleeves with patience and energy seems to me most pathetic, and eminently characteristic of what is best in the

progress of the age. Were it not for the lack of space and the fear of the editor's blue pencil, one might easily preach quite a sermon upon the text.

It cannot be said that there is much that is new in the literary world here at present. The brethren of the pen have not been able to escape the influence of the popular wave which has so strongly been setting toward music and painting. With opera and oratorio, piano and chamber music upon all manner of cunning instruments, it has been difficult to stay at home and pay attention to one's books; while there has also been the attraction of numerous picture exhibitions to increase the difficulty of giving one's mind to literature.

Almost the only new book immediately promised by any of the Boston writers who are

at all well known is the collection of short

stories by Mr. T. R. Sullivan. It is to be brought out shortly, and is to be called "Day and Night Stories." The motto which Mr. Sullivan has chosen for his title-page is Horatio's exclamation, with Hamlet's reply: "O day and night, but this is wondrous strange !" "And therefore as a stranger give it welcome;" and it accords well with the weird wonder stories which are included in the volume, and which made so deep an impression when they appeared in Scribner's Magazine.

It is a pity that somebody would not invent a dream-recorder for the benefit of us poor mortals who on awaking leave behind the multitudinous and doubtless transcendently fine compositions of our sleep. An author who is a clergyman told me the other day that a certain story which he read to the children of his parish on Easter Sunday, and which must have given them deep delight if it was as good as the stories of his pen which have been published, was composed in a dream some weeks earlier. On awaking he wrote it down almost as it was finally used.

Most people who had had the good fortune to invent such a story in their dreams would still be as far as possible from any especial chance of remembering it on awakening; and what is needed is a contrivance by means of which the thoughts of the sleeper shall be set down in

a form that can be afterward translated. The thing may seem possible only in those regions of science to which Jules Verne keeps the key, but who knows to what we shall yet come in this direction?

I was told not long since a thing which is apropos, but for which I cannot vouch. The occasion of its being told was the remark that a certain person did not sleep soundly, but talked incessantly through the night without being conscious of it, and in the morning was completely exhausted. It was said that a similar case had come within the notice of a physician who had certain literary leanings, and that he set a stenographer to take down the words of the sleeper. The result was that he found the patient to be an entirely different person in his dreams, and from the talk which he thus poured forth the physician has been able to shape an exciting romance, which he means to have published.

The tale is not one which commends itself as wholly probable, and the way in which it came was so roundabout that it would not be wise for one to build upon it too firmly; yet it is a curious bit of a side-light upon the fiction of the day, and the strange ideas which are more or less closely connected with it.

The work of the Folk-Lore Society is beginning at length to attract some of the attention which it deserves, and there is no doubt that it will come ultimately to be recognized as one of the most interesting and fruitful of our antiquarian societies. There is, of course, a large portion of our folk-lore which is merely the more or less clear echo of European notes, but there is also a goodly quantity which is original, both Indian and other. All is in one way or another of value, and it is pleasant to find that people are awakening to this fact. The publication of the society is constantly becoming more rich in its material, and is extending its field.

Arlo Bates.

The second book selected for translation from the works of Imbert de Saint-Amand dealing with the women of the French Court will be "The Happy Days of the Empress Marie Louise," which the Scribners will publish this month. It will have a portrait.

IN THE LIBRARY.

have filled the souls of some of the competitors for the Literary Prizes, if they could have entered the editor's library late on the evening of March 20th, or, rather, early in the morning of the 21st. They would have found him on the verge of lunacy, and might have felt it to be no more than poetic justice that the one who was responsible for the thirty questions which were printed in the January and February numbers of THE BOOK BUYER should have come to such an end, surrounded by the results of his fell design against the peace of mind of his fellowmen in the shape of hundreds of sets of answers to the questions.

A fiendish delight, I am convinced, would

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For the first few hours the task of reading these lists, and checking off the correct answers, was not unpleasant. The ingenuity of some of the guesses aroused admiration, and here and there a touch of unconscious humor appeared. But with the midnight hour came a species of mental confusion which played some fantastic tricks with the most plainly written answers. The pile of neatly written manuscripts on my table had not diminished appreciably; and yet I had reached a state of mind in which I would have taken oath to the truth of the statement

that Govert Lockerman wrote the preface to

the first edition of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" and that Kate Joyce was Robinson Crusoe's second wife. The mood was such that the facetious comment of one despairing competitor, that David Gamut must be the lover of the girl whose "heart was like a throbbing star," seemed a perfectly natural and rational answer.

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The case was rapidly becoming one that the most distinguished alienists would have hailed with undisguised glee when a correct answer was found to the first question. The unexpectedness of this discovery, a glance at the lists having shown that this was the most difficult question of the entire thirty to answer, restored the mental balance of the editor. So many inquiries have been received regarding this question that I give Mrs. Dowling's answer to it entire :

A short time since Harold Frederic asserted in the New York Times that to Henry Vizetelly belongs the honor of having introduced "Uncle Tom's Cabin" to the British public. A letter to

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The circumstances attending the publication of the first edition of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" in England were narrated by Henry Vizetelly in two letters dated August 6th and September 18th, 1889, and published in the Literary World of London. The first of these is by far the more important; and the lack of accurate information on this interesting point in regard to one of the most famous books that was ever written appears to be so general that we reprint in another column of THE BOOK BUYER the portions of Mr. Vizetelly's first letter bearing directly on the question at issue. The only additional fact of significance in his second letter is his "very positive" assertion that the copy of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" received by Mr. Bogue was handed to him [Mr. Vizetelly] the same day that it arrived from the United States. Several competitors stated correctly that the preface to the first English edition of the book was signed "G.," and was published by Vizetelly, but the identity of the writer of the preface was discovered by only one person.

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Another question, the one asking in what book the exploits of Govert Lockerman were described, has given rise to several inquiries because of the discovery by a number of competitors that their editions of Irving's "Knickerbocker History of New York" do not contain the character. If this fact had been known, the question would not have been asked. The reference is found in the Hudson Edition (G. P. Putnam's Sons) of Irving's works, and the supposition, of course, was, that the character and the incidents in which the doughty Dutch skipper took part were in all the authorized editions.

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One of the most gratifying features of the Prize Competition has been the large number of letters that have been received expressing the pleasure and interest which attended the search

for the answers. Our modesty is not proof against the temptation to quote the words of one correspondent, who writes: "The appositeness of your queries and your whole dealing with the matter call only for praise. As a contestant I may be allowed to say, perhaps, as a literary friend who did not compete writes me, 'After seeing the April BOOK BUYER, one really feels disgusted not to have known a few more answers.' This was from Long Island. A different tone characterized the letter of a disheartened Connecticut competitor, who, in sending his answers, wrote: "I have tried to live up to the injunction of the Apostle, to 'live peaceably with all men,' but I am afraid if I should happen to meet the man who arranged these questions I should be tempted to work off some of my present feelings on his person."

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The note of somewhat ironical sympathy is discernible in the letter of a Massachusetts woman, who writes:

Didn't you plume yourself somewhat on No. 20? I do believe that after I had examined all the books in the world except Grant's "Memoirs," I should have begun all over again, leaving that book lying unopened. And No. 3-you say they are all standard or popular books. ["Standard or popular American or English authors, or their works," was the phrase.-ED.] Under which head do you place "The Shaving of Shagpat"? Heaven save the mark. But I will say no more; the prize-winners, at least, are bound to stand by you in this crisis of your fate, and prizes or no prizes, it was great fun. The questions were so hard to find and so simple when found that you kept us all in a state of mind bordering on distraction for two months.

I made one discovery at a very early stage of the game, to wit, that there were fifteen English and fifteen American authors, and that questions were generally taken from books you had lately reviewed in THE BOOK BUYER, or from the lists in The best hundred books.' If I could once have invaded your sanctum, I would have sent you thirty perfect answers.

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Mark Twain. The author of it must be a wit. At all events his proposition diffused an air of hilarity throughout the editorial sanctum that was not dispelled for several days.

"UNCLE TOM'S CABIN."

[From a letter to the editor of the London Literary World.]

SIR: I do not see that any particular honor or merit is due to the person who first introduced "Uncle Tom's Cabin" to the English public; still, it may be as well to correct the misstatements contained in the letter you have published signed Charles M. Clarke, who, if born at the time the incidents occurred, of which he speaks so positively from his own personal knowledge, could only have been a baby in long clothes.

The true circumstances connected with the issue of the English reprint of the book in question are these: In the first place no advanced copy of the work was submitted to any London publisher, but Mr. D. Bogue received an ordinary copy of " Uncle Tom's Cabin" from a young man in Putnam's New York house, accompanied by a letter stating that the book was selling rapidly in the States, and suggesting that Mr. Bogue should reprint it and send him a trifle for his trouble. Mr. Bogue did not care to embark in cheap reprints of American books, and offered the work to me for my series of " Readable Books," which were then selling largely (the first edition of each volume was 20,000), and the initial volume of which had brought Poe's "Tales and Poems" for the first time to the notice of the English reading public. The American edition of Uncle Tom's Cabin" being in two volumes, I did not see my way to issuing it at a shilling, and while I was undecided what to do with the work I received a visit from Messrs. Salisbury and Clarke, the first named of whom machined "Readable Books," while the second bound the volumes, so that both were well aware of the great success of the series. On this account they were constantly bothering me to suggest some further literary venture which would provide work for their establishments and which might be undertaken in partnership. To get rid of their importunities I offered them to join with me in reprinting “Uncle Tom's Cabin," and at Salisbury's request I lent him the second volume of the work to look through, retaining myself the other volume, which I had at that time partly read. The following morning we came to an arrangement to produce an edition of the book in shares, each of us being responsible for a third of the cost. Part of the type was set up in my printing office, but the larger part was composed in Salisbury's office; Salisbury, too, did the machining, and Clarke the binding of the volume, the size of which was crown 8vo, and the published price 2s. 6d.

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As there was only a very slight sale for this

book at 2s. 6d. in cloth, it was determined to work off the remaining sheets of it in paper boards at a shilling.

There are more people alive who knew all the facts of the case than Mr. C. M. Clarke appears to be aware of, notably Mr. Frederick Greenwood, who wrote the preface to the first English edition; Mr. J. Wade, printer, of Tavistockstreet, Covent-garden; and Mr. H. Newsome Woods. . . . I am, Sir, your obedient servant, HENRY VIZETELLY.

HOLLOWAY, August 6, 1890.

LITERARY NOTES.

All who have laughed over ver A. B. Frost's rhymes and pictures in "Stuff and Nonsense" will be glad to hear that a new collection of a similar character, entitled "Dizzy Joe, and Other Comics," will be issued by the Scribners.

An edition de luxe of Dickens's works, in fortyfive volumes, illustrated by about four hundred etchings and wood-cuts from the original designs, is being issued by Estes & Lauriat. Twelve portraits of Dickens are included. The edition is issued by subscription and limited to 1000 sets.

A request was received by the editor of THE BOOK BUYER to withdraw from the Literary Prize Competition the list of answers sent in the name of J. J. Halsey, of Lake Forest, Ill. This request, however, came so late-after the forms were on the press-that we were unable to comply with it. The list was sent in consequence of a misunderstanding.

M. Julian, Marie Bashkirtseff's art teacher, tells this story of her in an interview sent from Paris to the Boston Evening Transcript:

"She often went to the Chambers at Versailles, and always found a seat when the wives and friends of deputies were sometimes unable to do so. 'M. Rouher,' she would say, 'pray get a seat for me in the tribunes.' And off shuffled Louis Napoleon's great minister. Presently, M. Rouher would return. Impossible, mademoiselle; there is not a seat to be had any. where for love or money.' 'Well,' she would add, 'pray give me your arm.' She would then walk round the lobbies of the House with the old imperialist, and presently, espying a leading member of the opposition, she would suddenly exclaim before a crowd of people, 'Oh, M. Clémenceau-or M. Jules Favre, or whoever it might be do be so good as to get a seat for me in the tribunes; M. Rouher says he is quite unable to find one.' 'Oh, certainly, mademoiselle, certainly,' the other would respond. And she got her seat by this artifice, almost invariably."

From "Pastels in Prose."-Copy-
right, 1890, by Harper & Brothers

PASTELS IN PROSE.

From "Pastela in Prose."-Copyright, 1890, by Harper & Brothers.

HE experiment of transferring into English a collection of prose poems from the writings of a score and more of French authors was necessarily attended with considerable danger. For the quality which gives these fanciful and imaginative little sketches their principal charm is easily marred or lost in the process of turning them from a lan

guage of such grace, delicacy and flexibility as the French into the comparatively rugged and prosaic English tongue.

PASTELS IN PROSE. Translated by Stuart Merrill, with Illustrations by HENRY W. McVICKAR and an Introduction by W. D. HOWELLS. 12mo, $1.25. Harper & Brothers, New York.

In his introduction to this volume Mr. Howells thinks that "first of everything the reader will notice the beautiful reticence which characterizes them, as if the very freedom which the poets had found in their emancipation from the artificial trammels of verse had put them on their honor, as it were, and bound them to brevity, to simplicity; as if they felt the responsibility they were under to be even more laconic, more delicate, more refined, than they might have been, in openly confessing the laws of prosody. What struck me most," he adds, "was that, apparently, none of them had abused his opportunity to saddle his reader with a mora!." And again :

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