To anyone who has read modern writings, even to a small degree, it is a joy to fall heir to one of Professor Bliss Perry's books for review. There is so much of the man in the book; so much kindliness, humanity, and that all too rare literary (or actual) quality, sincerity. Without the fanfare of stylistic trumpets, the beating of bombastic tom-toms, or the clash of epigrammatic cymbals, Professor Perry goes on his quiet, unassuming way, marching steadily and with dignity, and with a slight twinkle in his eye, to his goal.

That he can be thus serene may be accounted for, of course, in two ways. When he takes up his pen he has no axe to grind, no literary "set" to placate, no flickering reputation to blow into a flame, and no disingenuous criticism to fear. And then there is that twinkle of the eye, that ability to "see things steadily and see them whole", which precludes his ever entering into the hurly-burly of purely temporary arenas. Critical judgement has long since discovered and frequently used the word which best describes his writings; it is the word "universal".

Those who have sat under him in the lecture room, or have ever heard him speak, know, however, that such universality does not imply, with him, abstraction or scholarly aloofness. One of his chief charms is his ability to turn the ancients to present-day use, to make a Carlyle as much of a reality as a Coolidge--an ability that is far from failing him in his most recently published collection of essays and addresses. That this collection includes papers on such men as Dana (he of the "Two Years", fame), John Burroughs, James Russell Lowell, Emerson, and the late Colonel Higginson, should prove a sufficient guarantee of interest to those who know him; and a charming introduction for those who do not. While the article which opens the volume, an entirely human consideration of Erasmus' "Praise of Folly", is so admirable a proof that the Renaissance sage is by no means dead and gone, and so skillful an application of his wisdom to modern American colleges, that criticism balks at it. It is, as has been said of many another masterpiece, a setting forth of thoughts that everyone has felt but no one has expressed. And if anyone finds himself disgusted with the cheap sophistication and cheaper knowledge of present generation, let him turn to Professor Perry's volume and plead, with it, for a return to the ways of the Humanists, with "their delicacy of touch, their sense of humor, their essential innocence, their childlike faith in Nature".

Throughout the whole book the tone is the same--a tone that is heard but too seldom in these days. The admonition of Sidney to "look in they heart"; Carlyle's "labor"; Emerson's "instincts"; the desire of Arnold for "true and fresh ideas"; all these find a brave echo here. Even to so materialistic a theme as "Criticism in American-Periodicals", can such principles be applied-the principles of clear-sighted and unshaken adherence to faith and judgement. Nor are these principles held in the light of a sort of rule-of-thumb panacea, to be applied indiscriminately and with the joy of recent discovery; but rather as the proven standards of better men and better ages which we have for the time being allowed to lapse into oblivion.

All this would bid fair to become dry moralizing were it not, as has been said, for the author's graceful sly humor and intense humanity. He is smiling all the time--a very kindly smile. And yet that same smile that prevents him from sermonizing prevents him equally well from annihilating. He is cool and he is pleasant. Too cool and too pleasant to push his arguments to their farthest limits. His smile of understanding never changes into the frown of annoyance, with the result that the reader is at times disappointed in not seeing the adversary completely disposed of. It would be interesting if Professor Perry should ever draw upon the stock of reserve force that undeniably lies behind his writing-but he is plainly prevented from doing so by the knowledge that fifty or one hundred years from now the stars will still be shining in their places after all. And if his pen lacks the attacking power of indignation, at least it never turns to ranting.

But perhaps I do him an injustice. It is certain that on the subject of colleges he feels deeply and speaks strongly. Let the reader judge for himself of the strength and sting of this paragraph from his essay on "Emerson's Most Famous Speech"--and let him ponder it as well; for herein lies the key to the whole volume: "If he (Emerson) were of our generation . . . would he not say: 'O you who are cramped in costly buildings, clogged with routine, preoccupied with, administrative machinery, how can you see the sun whether it be shining? Where is your free hour for Night and her stars? You are learned in bibliographies, expert in card catalogues, masters of a thousand specialties. You are documented, certificated, sophisticated. But have you the old eager reverence for the great books? And where, by the way, are your own books? From these thousands of American colleges and universities, how many 'vital, creative books are born? The university of Walden Pond had "Whim" written above its doorposts, but it bred literature. There was once a type of productive scholar who may be described as "he that scattereth, and yet increaseth", but your amazing and multifarious activity is not much of it wastage rather than growth? Simplify! Coordinate! Find yourselves, and then lift up your hearts!'"