Evening Star Newspaper, September 22, 1935, Page 55

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTO D. C, SEPTEMBER 22, 1935—PART FOUR. F-5 ‘'NEWS AND REVIEWS OF BOOKS FOR AUTUMN READING t MEMOIRS OF THE WORLD WAR Robert Lansing, Former Secretary of State, Recalls Poignant Memories in His New Book—Modern Politics Get an Airing—Recent Fiction. By Mary-Carter Roberts. | customs.. would not love ft. When, | after marching 18,000 kilometers, I WAR MEMOIRS OF ROBERT | ggain presented myself at its fron- LANSING. Indiacapolis: Bobbs- | tiers, in 1932, * * * I considered that Merrill Go, it an affectionate HIS is a proper book for an - | honorable gentleman who was once Secretary of State to have written, ‘It is a straight- forward account of the negotiations which took place in his tenure of office between our Government and those countries with which we were involved in the World War. It is not & book of “revelations.” It is an official reporting of the course of events, very much as they seemed to the public mind at the time when they occurred, but of course in greater detail. An vomistakable fragrance of lavender hangs over many of the| pages today, however. It is particu- | larly perceptible in those passages where Mr. Lansing explains how the future of civilization depended on the | preservation of democratic forms of government as opposed to autocracy. It is plain that he believed it. So did we all. Mr. Laasing's book contains much official correspondence. It has a| chapter on relations with Russia, an- other on publicity and secrecy and of course contains reminiseences of many personages of the time. It is a dignified and conservative work; it | was written, one feels, in a spirit of | great correctness. Perhaps nothing could better emphasize the distance we | have come since the resignation of the | Great Commoner from his cabinet post than the quaintness with which that very spirit impresses us today. |mind, & mind of trained sensitivity | tion of the French THE POLITICIAN: His Habits. Out- cries and Protective Coloring. By J. H. Wallis. New York: Frederick A. Stokes Co. N sional politician in this new book of his. Every word of it is self-evidently | true, so self-evidently true that there is nothing whatsoever of the “expose’” in the volume. It is & simple report- ing of the rules that govern political conduct, as deduced from that con- duct. It is, therefore, a reporting of folly, fatuousness and hypocrisy. Only by treating the subject with profound gravity could an author make it fuany —the humor of course being in the contrast between the subject and the style. approach. He deals with political manners with all the solemnity of professional patriot talking about flag. And the result is screaming. OT often since Thackeray's “Book | of Snobs” has any one done more | complete, particularized and devastat- | shape and size of the human animal ing justice to a loathsome species | so engaged than does this chapter. than does Mr. Wallis to the profes- | I was offering homage; 1 had the impression that I was arriving in a land that was friendly and akin, whose language and spirit I knew, where I knew the trees by name, as well as the rivers and devils, where I could take the little children in my arms and de- | clare, as it were off stage, to make them laugh: ‘Here are the merry fellows who killed my father'! " So it is no scientific study, merely, that is presented. But equally it is ‘nct a “travel book” of any common | formula. It is, instead, & rare fine | plece of writing reflecting an original and almost inhuman detachment. is, in short, literature. One would like to write more about a thing so beautiful, but there is no need. The reader will see for himself. Indeed, he will see very shortly, for the opening passage, a description of a caravan fording the Nile, which is a masterpiece. But perhaps space should be taken to explain the title, a literal transla- “Les Flambeurs | D'Hommes.” It derives from a chap- ter descriptive of the execution of a would-be assassin of a prince. It was, as may be guessed, an execution by fire. No more severe test could be given to an author’s style than the reporting of so frightful a scene, but when the style survives the test, its perfect objective unimpaired, no more deadly estimate of the shame of the procedura could possibly be achieved. | Such writing is rare. It is exncny‘ as rare a genius. But when one finds it, it makes one doubt Leonardo's verdict that the brush is always su- perior to the pen. There have been many paintings of executions, but none of them show more plainly the It FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. By George Seldes. Indianapolis: Bobbs- Merril Company. heard of Mr. Parker. In 42 years of work on this problem he has handled 300 cases, for most part cases of violence. He has caught—and seen convicted—all but 12 of his criminals. He therefore has a record something better than that of Scotland Yard and, says the publisher of this volume, is placed in the position of being one of the best detectives in the world. Twelve of his cases are told in the present work, told in the first person, as Mr. Parker related them to the author. It would be hard to find any mystery thriller that beats them in interest, or any fiction detective up clues than does the plain little county officer. The book is heartily recommended. THE EXEMPLARY MR. DAY. By Sir Samuel Scott. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. BETORE one was old enough to no- tice the names of authors on book covers, and before one was so foolish as to prefer any book to the fascina- who showed more ingenuity in picking i Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum, I Smell the Blood of an Englishman. Drawn by Rollin Kirby, courtesy of New York World, an illustration from “The Politician,” by | L3 By J.R. H. LLE. FANNY MERCIER, the M spinster school mistress of Geneva who fell heir to the precious heritage of Henri Prederic Amiel's journal when the obscure aesthetics professor died in 1881, lovingly anc laboricusly sifted out of the chaos one of the literary and philosophizal treasures of the nineteenth century. She gave to the world a book whose appeal was intense and immediate. It was in tone with the spirit of the age. It assured to the introspective, con- | science-tortured, lonely Amiel the im- | mortality he craved when he was safe | in his grave from the fame he feared. | The timid woman arose to the trust | the dead man had imposed upon her. But, we may now assume, it was not without misgivings. Mile. Mercier was a woman of her time—intensely religious, orthodox and proper. Her way of life was the antethesis of nudism, physical or J. H. Wallis, Frederick A. Stokes Co. The jacket design from “For Life,” by Nathalie Colby, William Morrow & Co. N THIS crusading book a veteran newspaper man diagnoses the con- | dition of the Fourth Estate and finds | tion of a litter of new kittens in the | Mr. Peattie, reflecting on what might | wriiing. It is well above the average the patient very ill indeed. As Don | barn, one used at intervals to be given | have been, had Marquis once said of pathos, so Mr. | Seldes of press liberty: none any more.” He takes it up from every angle and still he sees the blackest sort of picture. Mr. Wallis has adopted this big business wields a club, propaganda = dyspeptic blue, rages rampant and so on. one thing can he see any h Only in | American Newspaper Guild. This a dreadful tome of unconquerable | room shelves, and told to enjoy one's | self with the “nice story.” It was nice, beyond a quibble. The the pictures were un- interesting and in the printed matter ope. That | Good was forever riding in a triumph, | is in the recent formation of the|with Evil led in permanent captive | bonds to grace its chariot wheels. One His manner is best illustrated by organization, he thinks, may do some | cannot remember, offhand, the num- the sub-title which he has used. It clean-up. | 4s as follows: “A Textbook for Office- Mr. Seldes seems to be genuinely ; seekers (and for enlightened voters), distressed, and one cannot but feel | Setting Forth Infallible Guides to Po- |some sympathy for Him. But, after litical Success, Illustrated and En- all, why the grief and astonishment? | viched With Many Examples From He has been working on some paper the Careers of Contemporary Ameri- or other since 1909. Does he really can Politicians, Complete With An | think that this is news? Appendix, A Comprenensive and In- | telligible Index and Other Accessories THE NEW IMPERATIVE. By Walter | Proper to a Textbook.” And, we may =~ Lippmann. New York: The Mac- add, dedicated to Machiavelli. | millan Company. Beginning with the proper manner THE new imperative which Mr. Lipp- in which to be born, if one is to rise mann discusses in this small to any great staturs in politics, Mr. ! volume is the obligation on our Gov- | Wallis discusses with the most schol- | ernment to assume responsibility for arly gravity such aspects of political social and economic conditions. We importance as cultivation of friends have come, says he, to the end of and enemies, the nickname, the slo- laissezfaire. The Government from gan, the menace, the use of Lincoln, now on will have to take a hand. the necessity of publicity and what The sardonically - minded might | %o avoid, the use of salutations and | recall that never in the past has any | greetings, what to eat when photo- | administration failed to claim full graphed, what to -rink under the responsibility for prosperity and in- same condition, how to dress, where | quire if Mr. Lippmann simply means to be educated and a thousand other that now the group in power has to things. But he is not facetious, as face both sides of the music. { these items might lead one to think.| Anyway, he informs us that the | He demonstrates how living politicians New Deal—based on his new impera- make capital out of exactly these tive—came into being in 1929 and matters. He demonstrates also how | that it was the unique contribution of they cannot advance unless they give Herbert Hoover to the political attention to these matters. He singles | scheme. President Roosevelt, says out some horrible examples of failure. | Mr. Lippmann, merely took the idea He points with pride to the successes. from the preceding administration, And he shows how neglect or ob-! and there has been no real change of servance of the fundamentals of | policy since Mr. Hoover left us. Well, proper political behavior, i. e. where well, well. to be born and so forth, are respon- | Mr. Lippmann does not seem to sible in both cases. He always makes | Write as well as he used to. his point. JOSEPH CONRAD AND HIS CIR- Indeed, so perfect is Mr. Wallis' in- " shil CLE. By Jessie Conrad. New York: sight that one feels that, while the| CUE B Jessie Com public will laugh at this book as a satire, the professional office getter || To ler8® domestic volume une | rid fungi grow. | deliberately—somebody thought of it, might very well, in sober fact, take it for a text. And yet—this is a type| of the material with which it deals: | Within recent menths a contro-. versy raged in the ranks of the poli- | ticians and eventually drew public | statements from the governors of most | of the Southern States, from the Mayor of New York City and a can- | which dyed-in-the-wool Conrad devo- tees will want to have. There were many of such devotees a few years ago, and although one does not hear so much about them now, one sup- poses that they still exist and retain their enthusiasm. But it should be said that enthusiasm of more than an ordinary degree will be needed to didate for the presidential nomina- | couse the reader to endure the wifely tion. Papers all over the country | made front page news of these gentle- style in which the widow of the late i 1.¢ | 8enius cloaks her reminiscences. men’s pronouncements. _ And _what | 8%y L G L e the Was the subject? Why, whether corn | bread should be crumbled or dipped | %% O COYise, <xcept that 1u s that into something called *“pot liquor. # ¥ Mr. Wallis sttributes Al Smith's fag)- | Pln8es with uncontrollable shandon ure to win the support of the South | i !rrelevancies. One carmot escape in his presidential candidacy to the | Ihing, he walll ooy ALoiyRais ;7 fact that he took no part in this con- | emparragsment. It is literature, in troversy. It was, he says, & mOSt| ghor in the very best bed and board grievous lapse. BURNERS OF MEN. By Marcel Griaule. Translated by Edwin Gile Rich. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippin- cott Co. THIS book was the winner of the ‘" 1934 French Gringoire Prize. Even in translation its literary merit is arresting. It is not too much to say that, in the loftiness of its style and the passionless detachment of its frony, it belongs with Doughty's “Arabia Deserta” somewhere in that slender category of books written by travel-weary ment out of unreasoning fove for strange lands that have given them little but hardships. It is an account of a journey in Ethiopia. The journey was under- taken for purposes of scientific re- search. It was a mission of ethno- graphic and linguistic study, intrusted to the author by the French minister of public instruction. But, says the foreword, “the documents collected have given rise to numerous scien- tific publications and the present ‘work has been composed in an entirely different spirit.” What this spirit was can best be shown by another quotation: I love this country; one cannot see how a man who has been over so many of its tracks, at times suffering, who has scrutinized so many of its faces and noted so many of its [ ’ tradition. Women who have known literary | men often do something of the sort, | as witness the feminine outpourings which followed the death of D. H. | Lawrence. If his laundress has not yet published her memoirs, do not despair. She will. So will his cook and his grocer’s unmarried aunt. So will the telephone girl who operated the board in his hotel. So will the female taxi driver in Melbourne who | once had a passenger who wore a beard. It was not Lawrence, but what of it? It might have been. Or, in the style of most of these friends of greatness, it might of been. Mrs. Conrad, in substance, tells of her husband’s literary friends and | his struggles to gain recognition. Stephen Crane, Ford Maddox Huef- fer, H. G. Wells, Henry James and others pass through her pages. As has been said, there is real material of interest to Conrad enthusiasts in the volume. THE CUNNING MULATTO and Oth- er Cases of Ellis Park, American Detective. Told by Fletcher Pratt. New York: Harrison Smith and Robert Haas. MR ELLIS PARKER is the county detective of Mount Holly, N. J. You may not have heard of Mount Holly, but if you take an interest in crime detection you have probably | | ber of pages, but the volume was a thick one and nowhere in it did Evil get so much as a look-in. It was a set-up for Good from the word go. At least one unregenerate child, after completing such a literary stint, went into the neighboring pasture and ing that even ,» she then of her vocabulary. Feeli that was not sufficient, | climbed to the top of a prehistorrc, T mound which she had taken as he: chapel of meditation, and said firmly, in a loud voice, “There, Mister Bar- low!" For the book, as you have probably guessed, was that appalling childhood “classic.” “Sandford and Merton.” Mister Barlow was its leading char- acter. The cows which composed the un- | regenerate child’s audience switched their tails and flopped their ears and | went on chewing. Things seemed bet- ter after that and she descended from | her Olympus to search hopefully for! { additional kitten families in the hay. Mister Barlow seemed, for the time being at least, to be exorcised. But now, cut of the dust of library shelves, come poking once again the whiskers of that reverend gentleman who devoted his life to stacking, so unsportingly, the cards for Good. “Sandford and Merten,” it would ap- pear, did not just grow, as other hor- It was written— somebody actually wanted to do it. Alas, somebody did. That person of unaccountable tastes was one Thomas Day, a wealthy Eng- lish gentleman, an Oxford scholar, who longed from his early youth to do something for humanity. As so often happens with persons infected with such longings, Thomas' desire somewhat outran his performance. He wrote “Sandford and Merton.” He created Mister Barlow. That was the sum of his accomplishments for hu- manity. In a small but completely amusing biography, Sir Samuel Scott recounts today the adventures of this eight- teenth century- paragon. amazing book, believable only on the evidence of “Sandford and Merton” itself. Were it not for that classic one would not think that any full-grown man could have adopted, so whole- heartedly, the ideal of priggishness for his life’s pattern. Here is a grand chance for current adults who had no prehistoric mound to retire to in their harassed youth to get even. If you read “The Ex- emplary Mr. Day” you can forgive Mister Barlow a great deal. In the light of his creator’s eccentricities he becomes understandable. All such adults ought really to be grateful to Sir Samuel Scott. He has evened an old score that was much in need of evening. SINGING IN THE WILDERNESS: A Salute to John James Audubon. By Donald Culross Peattie. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. WHILE this book purports to be a history of the life of the great painter of birds, John James Audubon, it is, more essentially, a piece of self- expression on the part of the author, an expression of his discontent with a mechanistic era and of his concep- tion of America as it was in the vanished day of the carrier pigeon and the buffalo—an America which might still be with us, as he feels, if we had not so wantonly destroyed and senselessly laid waste. Audubon, the author plainly feels, was a kind of personification of the nature-spirit of that time. He was a man who could live in the woods, he was perfect in the woodsman’s technique, but he did not use his skill to gratify a killer's lust. Con- trarily, he used it to interpret and preserve the beauty of our virgin con- But what Audubom typified is gone. history taken another | turn, says sadly: “Against the English “There ain't thickness taken down from the play | colonial policy, the empire builders of | New France were sure to fail. They | built an empire upon wind . . . and | that is the country into which we did Advertisers influence news, | covers of that volume were an alarmed | not grow. I heard the roar of the none- too-distant metaled highway, the pride of the country, the repeated battle- ground of police and killer. The roads of New France were the heron- haunted rivers and the silent, shining lakes.” book of that sort. For, while it has |a strictly formula plot, predictable from the first page to the last, and while it has no literary distinction, it has a certain liveliness about it which | carries one along. Its obviousness somehow does not become obvious. Perhaps its virtues can be best summed up by saying that its author understands the telling of a story. When a writer has that capacity, the fact that his story is third-rate is | not particularly detrimental. It is an| | The heron-haunted rivers, thesilent,| Mr. Cronin's story in itself is the | shining lakes—it is beautiful phrase- |stereotyped struggle of the idealist | ology, the more poignant because it |against the materialist, the capitalist | is so irrevocably of the past. Today | against the worker. For both groups | the herons, where they exist at all, | he has equally stereotyped protag- are in “refuges’—eloquent word. And | onists. There is Barras, the mine | the shining lakes in all too many | owner, who is the type of cold-hearted | or have become preserves for sports- |is the young David, who burns for | men—more killing. | justice; when the story is cast he | The greater reason, this, says Mr. will probably be played by Sidney Frattie, for valuing John James Audu- | Howard. And there is Jenny, the bor" “I think,” he writes, “we shall | selfish wife. She is a Bette Davis role have more need of him as time goes all ready to the last detail. And so on. on. There are birds, 8 number of | In addition to the story of these | them, that we shall never see now | characters —good arrayed against | except in his drawings; and more, he | bad—there is a very lively lot of scene is our youth and we are leaving it shifting. We have disasters in the every day . . . It is the purity of | mines, mobs in the streets and other his motives that shines out so grand- | diverting spectacles. We have much |ly. They look as exceptional and realistic detail about miners’ lives and | worthy in my America as in his. | the actual work fn the mines. These | They were no more nor less than passages seem to have been written | curiosity and delight. And these are |from first-hand knowledge, and their | the essences of science and art.” | authenticity no doubt has been the | The spirit of these paragraphs over- | reason for the great outcry of ap- | shadows the bicgraphy with an ad- | proval of the book. For if a writer mirable harmony. It is a quiet book | writes with versimilitude about things which ought to commend itself equal- | outside average experience, we usually 1y to those who love nature and to | decide that he is a genius, be the rest that small public which enjoys books | of his work ever so conventional. that go somewhat outside the bounds" On the whole, however, a first-rate | of convention and sensation. formula novel would seem to be pref- erable to a seriously-intended book THE STARS LOOK DOWN. By A.J.!which does not quite come off. Bet- imgln- Boston: Little, Brown ter store cakes, made with chemical : Co. | * lished serially in the Cosmopoli- (his eggs are the very best chemi- (tan, is a skillful example of formula | cals, too. She Just Paints for Fun, Says “Prize” Authoress 23 | eggs, than home-baked ones that do | 'HIS novel, which has been pub-|not rise. Mr. Cronin’s opus rises. And | spiritual, There were no naked souls e @ | vivified, may have far-reaching influ- petticoats and gentleman angels at least kept their wings discreetly folded. In that diary she came face to face with the most shockingly naked of all naked things—a mind stripped bare of illusions and rationalizations. She considered it a part of her trust that the mind of Amiel should be properly clad before it was allowed | to venture before the world. She clothed it by her conscientious efforts in selecting and editing. A strange, | beautiful, tragic figure emerged—the | Amiel the world has known, pitied and | loved. But it was an idealized figure of the nineteenth century gentleman. When Mlle. Mercier died in 1918 | the preciously guarded manuscript | passed into the hands of her nephew, Bernard Bouvier, who subjected it to | shouted aloud all the swear words |Cases have been drained to puddles, | villain that Hollywood adores. There| '™ i o) and laborious re-examina- | tion. The result was a new edition, | containing much that had been de- | leted from the original publication with which, in its translation by Mrs. Humphrey Ward, most American readers are acquainted. | The result is a volume which, with- out sacrificing a line of the old ma- terial, is more in tone with the spirit of the twentieth century. A new Amiel appears—a far more realistic, flesh-and-blood figure in the light of that twentieth century psychology of which he was a pioneer. There is | the same Hamlet-like character, the same torturing introspection, the same | | brilliant psychological analysis, the same objective and scientific observa- ‘ tion of nature, the same moving poetry | —and a vastly more recognizable per- | | sonality. [ The professor, we learn here for the first tme, didn't spend all his time in | morbid self-analysis, philosophical contemplation, lonely walks in the moonlight, or worry about approach- ing death. He attended a party once— it must have been a rather hilarious party for the eminently proper Geneva of that day—and in a reckless moment kissed one of the ladies. It frightened him. But, true to form, he went home and wrote a full account of that kiss in his journal. It did not appear. of course, in Mile. Mercier's edition. And during his student days in Germany, he MLLE. MERCIER'S HERITAGE Concerning the New Edition of Amiel’s journal, Containing Much That Had Been Deleted From the Original Publication. aster. ‘Amiel, with the miud of a tendencies of the human spesies? Is scientist, tried to make a map of it.|this, indeed, the fatal lot reserved | He gave to the world an objective study | for democracies? Or, rather, above | of the subjective. He placed lights|the economic and political equality |along the way into the darkest of | towards which socialistic democracy darknesses. “The world is too much with us,” Wordsworth had written. Amiel | echoed the thought. The way of es-| cape from man-made vexations led inward. The individual could pro- | ject out of his own mind his own world. | Every man, to quote a somewhat less | erudite philosopher of our own day, | could be indeed a king. But there | was no need of economic and social upheavals to bring about the regaliza- | tion. The individual had but to recog- | nize his kingship. He need only be the master of himself. The whole vastness of creation, unfenced and un- tends, will there form a new kingdom of the mind, a church of refuge, a republic of souls, in which, beyond simple right and gross utility, the beautiful, the infinite, admiration, de- votion, sanctity, will have a cult and a city? Are utilitarian materialism, barren, egoistic legality, the idolatry of the flesh and of the self, of the temporal and mammon, the issue of our efforts? I do not believe it. The ideal of humanity is far too lofty. But the animal is the first to protest, and the suffering that is superfluous and of social origin must first be ban- ished before there will be a return deeded, lay behind his own skull. of spiritual goods.” e [INJOW this is a philosophy which New Air Service. seems an almost inevitable human | air passenger and freight servics response to a troubled, confused time.| nas just been inaugurated between | It has been the philosophy of all of | gtalinabad, the capital, and 21 dis- history's twilights. It is, perhaps, & | (ricts of the Tajik Republic of Russia matter of wonder that there has not | ———————————————————— been a more vigorous revival of it in our own day. Perhaps this is due to the fact that no leader of genius has arisen to lead the world into this path. The old leaders were leaders of an old age. | Amiel, perhaps more penetrating iand prophetic than any of them, | speaks with the voice of the present. The journal, so much expanded and Yes, we have the newest books in —our Lending Library, on the Main Floor, where courteous, well-informed assistants will be happy to serve you. Our rates, by the way, are among the low- est in town. Ask about our new monthly rates, ThePalaisRoyal Main Floor. ences on world thought. Already, we are told, there has been a profound effect both in Europe and in Latin America. Now that the work has ‘been issued in English it is not un- | likely that there will be an enthusiastic |revival of the Amiel cult in this | country. Psychiatrists of a decace ago would | have looked with horror on the re- | appearance of Amiel as a messiah. | The weight of their science was di- rected to push the mind in an oppo- site direction. They knew too well the barren, haunted land to which his path might lead. Their asylums were | filled with unfortunate who had fol- lowed it. DAVID in her cosmology. Lady angels wore | | echo. It was the misfortune of Amiel to have lived at the dawn of an age when materialism was to gain its greatest triumphs—when the riches of the domain of extroversion were so great that the sane could only sneer at the fools who set their sails inward. But the way of the mate- rialists also led, as Amiel prophesied, | to darkness and ruin and world mad- ness—to the soup kitchen and the | firing squad. | Amiel himself encountered the perils of extreme introversion and the ob- | jectively—so paradoxically opposed to the subjectivity of materialism, as he recognized—which it demanded. He was himself, in the end, a hapless victim of the lonely desert of the mind. But, more than any of the others who have followed it, he rec- ognized the dangers that must be con- quered by the brain's pilgrims. He was unhappy. Some of the supreme demands of his nature were thwarted. But he knew also the riches and beauty of the way. It was not a road to be followed mapless and provision- less. Nature, said Amiel, was a reflection of the mind but, paradoxically enough. the mind was a reflection of nature Underlying both of them—as Words- | worth, Carlyle, Thoreau. St. Paul, St. Francis and Buddah had recognized— was something far deeper interfused. Some called it God. Some called it the Absolute Amiel did not quarrel over terms. He knew, with Buddhis- tic intuition, the necessity of putting | one’s self in harmony with it. One does not carry a watch on the seas Amiel sailed, for there time is no more and the instant and eternity are fused. AMIEL was both philosopher and | prophet and this single quotation which space allows, wrilten 75 years ago, expresses clearly a thought which many have started unconsciously to One may hear something like it over the radio almost any evening: “One sees that the era of mediocrity is at hand in every sphere of life. Equality gives birth to uniformity and it is sacrificing the excellent, the remarkable, the extraordinary, that one gets rid of the bad. spirits will become the malady of the equalitarian age. The useful will Low | shamelessly confesses, he engaged In| repjace the beautiful, industry will LAWRENCE Defines the issues to be decided in 1936 in his mew book Stumbling into Socialism And the Future of Our Political Parties A challenging and well-considered call for & union of progressive Re- publicans and Democrats in & new party that will insist on a return to true American constitutional prin- ciples in the 1936 election. $1.50. At All Bookstores D. Appleton-Century Company, 35 West 32nd Street, New York. THRILL of the SEASON AND THE LEOPARD MEN ST OUT, this exciting new novel b he Jungle King's creator, Edger Rice Burrou llisstrated $2 JUST PUBLISHE| The Life of SARAH DELANO ROOSEVELT I Gracious Lady By Rita Halle Kleeman The lite the President’s mother. one of the day's most delightful personali- ties. The author has known Mrs. Roosevelt intimately. and has had free access to private papers. letters and diaries that authorized of him a lot in later years. b D1 firtations with several frauleins. The | repiace art, political economy will re- ghosts of those flirtations bothered | piace religion and arithmetic will re- ESE are breaths of realism which | passing: the epoch of the ant hill, of r. Bouvier has allowed to enter | the multiple life, arrives. cover a lifetime devoted to an . Con- unpub- lished material on the President —especially _his boyhood an. place poetry. d formative ~years. ~ Iliustrated. “The time of the great men is| By con- At AU Booksellers the lamp-lit room. They, perhaps, d!"[lmunl leveling and the division of serve emphasis because of a reason |labor, society will become everything | of the Pulitzer prize novel, “Now in children’s school. T. LOUIS (#).—Writing is “hard work” to Josephine Johnson, 25-year-old Pulitzer prize-win- ning novelist. She prefers to paiat nursery murals. A sleflec of wall paintings for chil- dren’s school here completed recently by the youthful author of “Now In November” drew the praise of art crities for their whimsical fancy. Miss Johnson put aside an unfin- ished novel to make the drawings. “Paintng’s the more fun,” she said. “Writing is hard work—although there's @ pleasure of something created in either, once you've begun.” The murals have become a hobby This is part of a mural decoration which Josephine Johnson, author November,” painted for a St. Louis two rooms of another St. Louis school with the pictured story of “The Golden Crab” and—at the unanimous request of the children—imaginative scenes from “Tarzaa of the Apes.” ‘The mature seriousness of her written work is discarded entirely when she takes up her brush and oil paints. The murals run riot with caterpillars, animated vegetables and | I gnomes dining on ice cream cones. Miss Johnson, whose prize-winning volume presents a realistic study of farm life, is busy with her second novel. “It’s about a small town,” she said. “That’s all I can say mow.” Her first book of short stories, “Winter Or- with ‘her. A year sgo she decorated A chard,” was published recently. f - even more signficant than that they| make Amiel more real and lovable. He was one of the greatest introspec- | tive psychologists of all time. Perhaps | no man ever lived who subjected his own mind and emotions to a more | ruthless, objective study. And this| study led him into paths which others were not to follow for nearly a gen- eration. He is truly a pioneer—and an uncompromising and courageous one—in the strange country of the soul explored by Freud, Jung and their fol- Jowers. It was not mereiy that he recognized and expanded the concept of the unconscious which many philos- ophers had held before him. He was practical and factual. He was per- haps the first, for example, to have arrived at the wish-fulfillment theory of dreams, independently and by his own tortuous path. Dr. Bouvier, by rescuing these hith- erto unpublished fragments of Amiel's journal, has provided the world with an important document in the history of psychology. But he has, we be- lieve, done much more. Mile. Mercier's first publication resulted in the up- springing over Europe and America of an Amiel cult. The man had a real mcssage to his time. It was & syn- thesis of the philosophies of Words- worth, of Carlyle, of Emerson, Thoreau. The obscurest caverns of these philosophies were illuminated by the genius of the Geneva recluse. Amiel lived in an age of crashing aiths. His thought, like Arnold’s, wandered “between two worlds, one dead, the other helpless to be born.” The theological, philosophical, eco- nomic and political landmarks of the European mind were disappearing. Out of this intellectual chaos he found & sure but perilous path. Others had stumbled into it before him. Some had followed it to glory and more to dis- 4 1 of | and man will be nothing. Statistics will register great advances and the moralist a gradual decline. - The a erage will rise like the bottoms of the valleys by the denuding and sinking of the mountains. A plateau less and less undulating, without contrasts, without oppositions, monotonous— such will be the aspect of human society. [Extremes meet, and if the march of creation consists at first in endlessly disengaging and muitiplying differences, it afterwards retraces its steps, effacing them one by one. May equality, which, in the beginning, is torpor, inertia, death, become in the end the form of life? Is it not purchasing universal well [ APAN'S POLICIES | AND PURPOSES HIROSI SAITO Japanese Ambassador to the United States $2.50 Marshall Jones Company, Boston being at too great a price to pay | with the highest faculties, the noblest || WILLETT, CLA| Chicago D. APPLETON-CENTURY COMPANY ' 35 West 32nd Street. 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