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Magazine for December, was graduated from Princeton with the class of 1908, and was on the editorial staff of the New York Sun for four years. Since then he has been in the advertising agency business, first with one of the prominent New York agencies as a copy writer, and later as one of the principals of Berrien-Durstine, Incorporated. He is now associated with Bruce Barton in an advertising agency at 25 West 45th street, New York, known as the Barton & Durstine Company. Shortly after leaving the Sun, Mr. Durstine wrote a series of articles about the newspaper business for the Outlook, but most of his writing has been in connection with the advertising of manufacturers and publishers. As a member of the National Publicity Committee of the Y. M. C. A., he was sent to France last summer to gather material for the advertising used in the recent United War Work Campaign, and practically all the advertisements used in this campaign were the result of the six weeks which he spent in the ports and training areas and on the front in France. In addition to these advertisements, Mr. Durstine wrote several articles which were syndicated in newspapers, as well as "The Great Get Together" in Leslie's Weekly, "The Liaison of Laughter" in Scribner's for November, and "A Sister to a Million Men" in Scribner's for December.

PERSONAL GOSSIP ABOUT AUTHORS.

Barbour. Ralph Henry Barbour, co-author with H. P. Holt of the new boys' book, "Lost Island," says that the collaboration was an experiment because, although Mr. Holt had written innumerable short stories, he had never before attempted a long work of fiction." Being English and consequently suspicious of novelties," writes Mr. Barbour of his collaborator, "it took some persuading to get him into it. Having started, however, my chief difficulty was getting him to stop. He almost wept when I kindly but firmly pointed out that seventy thousand words, or eighty at the most, would answer our purpose. He simply threw all restraint to the winds and, once past his usual deadline of four thousand, fairly revelled in words. It was a veritable orgy with him, and he'd have

been writing yet if I had n't chopped the output off at somewhere around sixty-five thousand and shipped it off to an editor. We started out with only an idea, which was to write an adventure story with hidden treasure in it. Not because we thought that sort of a story would be novel, but because, when all is said and done, you never miss it with hidden treasure. Hidden treasure in juvenile fiction is like the mother-in-law joke in vaudeville. I said we'd lay the scene out West and Holt said we'd lay it in the South Sea Islands. I knew the West and did n't know the South Seas. He knew the South Seas and had never been further west than Brooklyn. We argued about it for some time and then compromised on the South Seas. After that we hit on platinum as a relief to the invariable gold of treasure tales, and the thing was done. When we ran out of incident Holt put in another storm at sea. He has a weakness for tempests and typhoons which leads me to suspect that he has never experienced one."

Mr. Barbour began newspaper work at twenty-one as a reporter in Boston, and afterward worked on newspapers in Denver, with an interval of three years in the Grand Valley, ranching. He wrote his first book in collaboration with L. H. Bickford. Then he worked on newspapers in Chicago and Philadelphia. At the age of sixteen he began writing verses and short stories under the name of "Richard Stillman Powell," for Life, Puck, Truth, and other old-timers, but he was twenty-eight before his first ambitious short story appeared in St. Nicholas. This attracted the attention of Appleton's literary adviser, and the result was Mr. Barbour's first juvenile book. Since then there have been some forty others.

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Davies. Mary Carolyn Davies, whose poems, appearing everywhere in all sorts of periodicals, show great versatility and an unusual poetic faculty, is a Westerner. "To have my own broncho and my own saddle again, and never to have to see a city street as long as I live, is the nearest to heaven I can think off," she says. Miss Davies was brought up in a gold mining town in the Canadian Rockies, where she lived until she was of high school age; then the family left

the mountains for the unknown life of the United States that the children might have proper educational advantages. It was while Miss Davies was in high school that she began to write for magazines and to earn her living by her pen. Despairing of ever getting a good education in any other way, she ran away to college. She went with five dollars and no clear knowledge of how she was to obtain more. She chose the University of California, where she had a wonderfully full and adventurous year. In spite of heavy class work she found time to bombard the magazines and managed to earn enough bread and rent money to pull through the year. At the end of the Freshman year, she won two literary prizes. At once she abandoned her college course, and left for New York, where. as she puts it, "there were real grown-up writers, and one might perhaps learn by looking at them, how they got to be like that." Miss Davies' success was at once remarkable. Poems of hers began to appear in the different magazines, she attracted the attention of the critics; every poem that was published meant new friends. Now the Macmillans are publishing her first book.

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Ferber. Edna Ferber attributes the titie of her new volume, Cheerful By Request," to the editorial demand for cheerful stories satirized in her story with the same title as follows:

"The editor paid for the lunch (as editors do). He lighted his seventh cigarette and leaned back. The conversation, which had zigzagged from the war to Zuloaga, and from Rasputin the Monk to the number of miles a Darrow would go on a gallon, narrowed down to the thin, straight line of busi

ness.

""Now don't misunderstand. Please! We're not presuming to dictate. Dear me, no! We have always felt that the writer should be free to express that which is in his

ah heart. But in the last year we've been swamped with these drab, realistic stories. Strong, relentless things, you know. about dish-washers, with a lot of fine detail about the fuzz of grease on the rim of the pan. And then those drear and hopeless ones about fallen sisters who end it all in the East River. The East River must be choked up

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with 'em. Now, I know that life is real, life is earnest, and I'm not demanding a happy ending, exactly. But if you could — that is --would you do you see your way at all clear to giving us a fairly cheerful story? Not necessarily Glad, but not so darned Russian, if you get me. Not pink, but not all gray, either. Say mauve !'" Guest. Edgar A. Guest, of the Detroit Free Press, whose poems are familiar to newspaper readers everywhere, began business life as a boy of thirteen shining sodawater glasses in a Detroit drug store. One of the customers at the soda fountain was a bookkeeper in the office of the Detroit Free Press. To him Eddie confided his ambition to be a reporter. In the summer of 1895 the Free Press needed a boy in the business department, and the bookkeeper pulled the wires, and Eddie got the job. Two years later he became an office boy in the editorial department. In course of time he became a reporter, and later was assigned to the Exchange desk. There he began writing verses, and later, during a year's experience as "crime reporter," he continued writing verse at odd times between fire alarms, and began publishing it once a week in a "column" under the heading, "Chaff." His work was so successful that after a time he was called upon to furnish a "column" every day, and that has been part of his day's work ever since. The first book of his verses was published in 1910, and as no publisher recognized the value of the manuscript it was printed privately. Since then several other books of Mr. Guest's verses have been made by regular publishers, and in less than twenty months one of them, "A Heap o' Livin," went through eight editions, totalling nearly 50,000 copies. The first edition of "Just Folks," published in September, 1917. copies.

was

15,000

Harris, Joel Chandler Harris always insisted that "it was just an accident" that he. came to write the "Uncle Remus" stories. For many years he refused to admit that the stories had any literary merit, or that he had any other relations with them than that of "compiler." "All I did," he said. "was to write out and put in print the stories I had heard all my life." "I understand," he wrote

to Mark Twain, “that my relations to Uncle Remus are similar to those which exist between an almanac-maker and the calendar"; to which Mark promptly retorted: "You can argue yourself into the delusion that the principle of life is in the stories themselves and not in their setting, but you will save labor by stopping with that solitary convert, for he is the only intelligent one you will bag. In reality the stories are only alligator pears one eats them merely for the sake of the dressing."

In 1898, writing to his schoolgirl daughters, Mr. Harris said: "As for myself, . . . I never have anything but the vaguest ideas of what I am going to write; but when I take my pen in hand, the rust clears away and the 'other fellow' takes charge. You know, all of us have two entities, or personalities. That is the reason you see and hear persons 'talking to themselves.' They are talking to the other fellow.' I have often asked my 'other fellow' where he gets all his information, and how he can remember, in the nick of time, things that I have forgotten long ago; but he never satisfies my curiosity. He is simply a spectator of my folly until I seize a pen, and then he comes forward and takes charge." About the same time he wrote to Mr. Burlingame of Scribner's, in connection with the "Minervy Ann" stories: "I am very fond of writing this dialect. It has a fluency all its own; it gives a new coloring to statement, and allows of a swift shading in narrative that can be reached in literary English only in the most painful and roundabout way."

How Mr. Harris got his "Uncle Remus inspiration is indicated by H. E. Harman, in an article in the South Atlantic Quarterly. Mr. Harman says:

"In one of his stories of farm life in Georgia, Joel Chandler Harris tells of a wealthy planter who wanted a few acres of original woodland cleared near a village in which he lived. Labor was scarce, but he finally induced a thriftless fellow in the village to do the work a man who had always been honest, but a kind of dreamer and 'ne'er do well.'

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"After a few days the man came to his employer and frankly confessed that he could

not do the work, although he needed the money. Pressed for a reason he said that the first tree he started to cut down was hollow and occupied by two squirrels, who made violent complaint at the destruction of their house. The next was the home of a chipmunk, with a large family, and the third was occupied by at least four pairs of jaybirds. "That piece of woodland is a peopled city, throbbing with life, busy from morning until night. It contains their homes and families, they have built and lived there for years and I have not the heart to destroy what belongs to these helpless creatures." And out of that incident, simple but impressive as it was, Mr. Harris drew inspiration for one of the most graphic pictures in all literature."

CURRENT LITERARY TOPICS.

The Longest Poem. Which is the longest poem? One generally regards "Paradise Lost" as pretty lengthy, and Thomson's "Seasons" and Cowper's "Task"; but these are short compared with Spenser's "Faerie Queene," which is easily the longest poem in existence, even as it stands, and had the author attained his object and reached the twenty-fourth book, no other poet would have been "in it." It is only a quarter of the original plan, yet the "Faerie Queene" is as long as the Iliad, the Odyssey, and the Aeneid put together, twice as long as Dante's "Divina Commedia," and three times as long as "Paradise Lost" and "Paradise Regained" in one. Tit-Bits.

To Overcome Self-consciousness in Writing. Self-consciousness in writing is chiefly expressed in the literary style adopted with emphasis on the "style." The great authors write simply and plainly. The schoolboy goes after the "flowery" stuff. He goes into all kinds of agony in trying to express his ideas in a form of elaborate prose-poetry. He scratches his head, inside and out, for high-flown adjectives, and hifalutin phrases. If he writes a letter in reply to your communication, he "takes his pen in hand to indite this epistle." If he sends a manuscript to the editor he spills the dictionary all over the page. Don't do it! It is the mark of the amateur. Good writing is not done that

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way. Read Mark Twain, and see. 1 yor have any of the symptoms mentioned or in other words if you attempt to do fine w ing," you may know that you are more merested in the writing than in the sulgem matter, and this means that you are chiefy interested in yourself. Simplicity, directness, and brevity are the great requirements, with many words of one syllable as possible The truth is that good writing is primarily a matter of good thinking. That's why most would-be literary people fail. You can never become a writer by learning to juggle words You can only write well by learning to assemble ideas, and to express them without straining to be "literary." Carl Easton Williams, in Physical Culture.

BOOK REVIEWS.

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THE AMERICAN ANNUAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY, 15:3
Edited by Percy Y. Howe. Illustrated.
Cloth, $1.75, New York: George Murphy. Inc.
1918.

The numerous readers of THE WRITER who use cameras in connection with their literary work will be especially interested in this handsome book. It shows in text and pictures the latest advance made in up-todate photography, and teaches the photographic art in its highest development both by precept and by example. The letter-press includes practical articles on photographic methods by experienced photographers, treating of more than fifty subjects, the wide range of which is indicated by the titles, Lenses with Reference to Hand Camera Use, The Choice of a Camera for Illustration Purposes, A Practical Fixing Tank, Paramidɔphenol, Nudes, On the Finer Uses of the Camera, and Direct Positives. The pictures, of which there is a great profusion, including more than a score of fine inserts and many other full page prints, are most artistic, and in themselves are well worth the cost of the book. Contributions for the next volume of the Annual should be forwarded to Percy Y. Howe, editor, 422 Park Hill avenue, Yonkers, N. Y.

A MANDAL OF PERSONAL HYGIENE, Proper living upon a physiologic basis By American authors. Edited by Walter L Pyle, M.D. Illustrated. Seventh edition, revised and enlarged. 555 pp. Cloth, $1.7%, net. Philadelphia: W. B. Saunders Company 1017

The value of this book, setting forth plainly the best means of developing and maintaining physical and mental vigor, is attested by the fact that six new editions of it have been required since it was first published in 1900, Meanwhile, it has been improved by repeated revisions and additions, and it is now gen

eraly recognized as a standard book, telling now it maintain good health Writers especialy, who leat sedentary lives, may profit by as suggestions and advice. It points out cases of iness are preventable,

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and shows how disease may be averted by ygienic irving Unlike many of the socalled "beat-books." this book is written by recognized medical authorities, scientific men of wide reputation, who discuss the hygiene of the digestive apparatus, the skin and

appendages, the vocal and respiratory apparatus, the ear, the eye, the brain and the nervous system, physical exercise, body postare domestic hygiene, food, and the hygiene of mfancy. Every intelligent family ought to have a copy of the book

A FOUNDATION COURSE IN SPANISH. By L. SinagCloth New York: The Macmillan

Compaty 20:8. ELEMENTARY SPANISH GRAYVAR. By Aurelio M. EsPD. and Clifford G. Allen. 367 pp. Loth New York: American Book Company.

Now that the study of German in American schools has been so generally discontinued, the study of Spanish has naturally taken its place, and, besides, a great many persons are learning Spanish by self-instruction. Both for school students and for those who are studying without instruction, either of these two books will be a valuable aid. "A Foundation Course in Spanish" was written originally for the students of the High School of Commerce of the City of New York, and aims to present the fundamental rules and principles of Spanish grammar in simple form, taking up only the essentials, but presenting with each principle adequate, abundant, and practical exercises for its thorough mastery. The book was perfected by classroom experience for two years with many pupils, and students ot Spanish will find in it a practical and helpful guide. Espinosa and Allen's "Elementary Spanish Grammar " also aims to present in a clear and logical manner only the important principles of Spanish, furnishing enough material in grammar, texts, conversation, and composition for one year of college and two years of high school work. The exercises are practical, in the form of interesting dialogues concerning school, city, and country life, and ordinary business transactions. The book is made more interesting by half-tone illustrations of Spanish scenes.

A MINSTREL IN FRANCE. By Harry Lauder. 338 pp. Cloth, $2.00. New York: Hearst's International Library Company. 1918.

A book of lasting interest is Harry Lauder's account of his experiences in the war. He has rendered useful service singing to the soldiers, living with them in the trenches, touring England raising money and recruits, stirring enthusiasm by an extended series of patriotic addresses in the United States, rais

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