Fantastics and Other Fancies. By Lafcadio Hearn. (Houghton, Mifflin Co. $1.60.)

"Love and death," saddest and sweetest of thoughts, are the twin motif of the "Fantastics." And a gloomy background of pseudo-Spencerian pessimism throws into bold relief the delicate artistry of the sketches. Lafcadio Hearn was a young man when he wrote them-an indolent, shabby reporter clinging vaguely to a job on a New Orleans paper, but bathed in a purple dream aura of sense and sensibility. With one half-blind eye he absorbed the beauty and color of life until it burst forth in one of those brief, florid sketches, immature if you will, but showing the touch of the master of English expression. Our land has seen no stylist more able to put into gemlike phraseology the grotesque loveliness of the Orient, to whose weird charm he was first falling a willing victim. The Orient! fragrant dream of perfumed seas and soft-lipped maidens! The home of his heart was there, even before he made it the home of his body. And a yearning for the East forms a wistful undercurrent to these cameos of warm life.

Said Lafcadio Hearn in a letter: "There are tropical lilies which are venomous, but they are more beautiful than the frail and icy-white lilies of the North." Pulsing flowers of the tropics, these "fantastics." The soul of the South, drowsy and passionate. It was his life.

The mood of the author varies, but, except in the two or three "Fancies" (as distinguished from the "Fantastics" proper), it never strays far from the original theme of love and death-or love in death, as in one of the most striking papers, "L'Amour apres la Mort." But they are all exquisite, touched with a gentle melancholy which makes them all the lovelier.

We are inclined to regret that the delicate and appropriate blue and white of the limited edition printed some years ago has been forsaken for the rather hectic glare of the present binding. But we are grateful to Mr. Hutson for giving the world this vista into the young thought-life of the eccentric spokesman of old Japan.

J. A. T.

EDITOR'S TABLE.

The manuscript lay in piles. It generally does; but no one minded it in the least. The Aesthete blinked both eyes and made vague remarks about the elections in Minnesota. But he could not help smiling as he did so; he knew the others were stupid and would not perceive the delicate double entendre unless he assisted their slow intellects. He was dreadfully superior. The Bishop hooted and lit cigarettes. This was to show that he, too, was a rare politician. But it was not to the point.

The Gentle Alice, being quite above all that, dreamed of the Perfect College, and waved sonnets in the air with subconscious remarks on the metre. The Mikado sighed and drew forth voluminous prose with the suggestion that some one else read it. The Bishop retired into an abstraction. This was to show that he was a great man and could not be troubled with the little things. And abstractions are so useful; he did not hear the Mikado's suggestions. He never does. The College rested heavily upon his shoulders. It was not to the point....

"This is rather Byronic," said the Aesthete to no one in particular, by way of keeping up his reputation.

The Bishop recovered from the abstraction and waved Francis Thompson before them. "Just let me read you this!" he shouted. This was to show that he was a man of letters as well as a man of affairs. He arranged it very cleverly, but the Mikado only looked out of the window and wearily demanded of him what he thought of the deportation of the Reds. The Bishop plunged into politics. The Mikado went out to get cigarettes. The Gentle Alice complained of a headache and thought that she had better go. It was not to the point.

"Hallo, hallo," said the Bishop, "how about this stuff, anyway?" This was to prove that he was the soul of efficiency. But that wasn't to the point either. Nothing was to the point. The Aesthete softly faded away into nebulosity. The Bishop became worried. Alice was gone. The Mikado only remained, and he airily remarked that the ecclesiastic's views upon predestination and free-will were illogical. The Bishop put on a stiff collar and fled.

The manuscript lay in piles. It generally does.

THE MIKADO.