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general question he writes more hopefully than the two scholars. "I am convinced," he says, "that the spoken word is merely the mirror of the mind, the surface expression of a mental mood; and, believing that, I never despair of the vernacular, for the mentality of our countrymen has not varied very much, and in any case it is radically different from that of the EnglishSo vital a thing as our vernacular cannot die. True, the auld hoose of our Doric-which has extended beyond the old but and ben-tends to get out of the plumb, and the proud task of the Vernacular Circle is to do a bit of underpinning, mostly, however, by inducing our stay-at-home compatriots to write it as they speak it, for it shows far fewer cracks when it is spoken colloquially."

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The mentality to which Mr. Bulloch alludes is Mr. Buchan's topic in "Some Scottish Characteristics." He deals both with "the commonplace side of our nature," on which we are prosaic, practical, logical, thrifty, and independent, and with "the other side of the Scottish character, the side which is as far distant as possible from the cautious, prosaic, worldly-wise side I have been talking about.. The truth is we are at bottom the most sentimental and emotional people on earth. We hide it deep down, and we don a mask of gravity and dour caution, but it is there all the time, and all the stronger because we hide it so deep." With regard to both sides, Mr. Buchan has wise and witty things to say, and his anecdotes are telling and apposite.

ROBERT S. RAIT.

"A Book of Twentieth-century Scots Verse," selected by William Robb. (London and Glasgow: Gowans & Gray, Ltd., 1925, 6/-)

The modesty of the title may have been deliberately designed to disarm the critic. Certainly there is not a large proportion of real poetry in the anthology, but the average of the verse is distinctly high, and, all allowance made for the traditionalism of most of the themes treated in the book and for the lack of enterprise characteristic of most modern writers of Scots verse, the anthology encourages a lively hope for the near future. Much of the verse is technically accomplished, which is relatively high praise for Scots versifiers, and some of it rises into the ether of genuine poetry.

This, of course, can be construed as a criticism of the compiler. It is. He has evidently been very industrious. Few, if any, possible deposits of poetic ore have escaped his eye. He has ransacked Scots newspapers and periodicals of many kinds (The Scottish Farm Servant has provided him with a considerable number of his examples). But he has been too generous. The book would have gained artistically by a severe sifting and

consequent lessening in bulk. Still, it is to be admitted that there is some force in the argument that what Scotland and Scots writers need at present is to see things as they actually are, and this anthology is, whatever else it may be, thoroughly representative.

What is to be said of the verses themselves? The first general impression made on the mind of one reader at least is the tremendous power of the old familiar themes. An austere critic would see in this but one more symptom of the moribund condition of Scots letters. But can it not be said that it is rather a proof of the essential continuity of the old and the new, that Scotland, industrialised as it is, is still the Scotland of Burns? It is true that few of the versifiers here represented live on the land among the peasants whose simple joys and sorrows they chronicle, but on the other hand most of them spent the formative years of their lives in surroundings not radically different from Burns's. Even from Glasgow the escape to the old Scotland is easy, and the versifiers are not to be blamed for taking it. Perhaps they would be braver were they to essay the harder task of transmuting the hard facts of life in the urban areas into poetry. That, too, will come.

Necessarily, since most of the themes are old and most of the method traditional, a lack of personality pervades much of the work. The authors in many cases might have exchanged names and no one would be a whit the wiser. This fact simplifies the search for originality. Charles Murray attains it by sheer dexterity in handling his medium; Violet Jacob by a combination of dexterity and artistic selection of tints. Walter Wingate is more successful than either, in his small way, in making the reader aware of his own gentle, cultured personality. Andrew Dodds, vehement, garrulous, a trifle blatant, gets himself across the printed pages. John Buchan achieves success in this sphere by amplitude of utterance and classical felicity of phrase. What might he not have given us had he followed the gleam! The same may fairly be said of Neil Munro, who, essentially a poet, has wasted, or, at the least, not employed, his talents as he might have done. But of examples of the complete mingling of the universal and the personal that makes the true lyric we have not many. Jessie Annie Anderson almost gives it to us in

AT SWEET MARY'S SHRINE.

"Luve broke my he'rt, an' got within

He only tried tae pain it :

How could Luve brak sae saft a he'rt ?—

I never socht tae hain it."

Marion Angus comes as near the heart of the mystery as any, for

with an almost painfully sensitive impressionism she unites a subtle command of rhythm, that she probably learned from the Irish poets, and a resolute chastity of diction. Here, for example, is her

THE FIDDLER.

"A fine player was he

'Twas the heather at my knee,
The Lang Hill o' Fare
An' a reid rose-tree,
A bonnie dryin' green,
Wind fae aff the braes
Liftin' and shiftin'

The clear-bleached claes.

"Syne he played again
'Twas dreep, dreep o' rain,
A bairn at the breist
An' a warm hearth-stane,
Fire o' the peat,

Scones o' barley meal,

An' the whirr, whirr, whirr,

O' a spinnin'-wheel.

"Bit aye, wae's me!

The hindmaist tune he made

'Twas juist a dune wife

Greetin' in her plaid,

Winds o' a' the years,

Naked wa's atween,

And heather creep, creepin'

Ower the bonnie dryin' green."

The anthology deserves and will doubtless receive a cordial welcome from all interested in Scots letters. It brings together in handy and attractive form a great amount of admirable work which even the severest critic will admit deserves careful consideration. Much of that work is doubtless ephemeral, but even that portion of it has its significance as showing that the love of Scotland can still thrill Scots hearts. And there is more than a residual fraction of verse that shows the authentic gleam of the gold of poetry. THOMAS HENDERSON.

"Rosehearty Rhymes, and other pieces," by Alex. Murison. (Printed by the Banffshire Journal, 1925, 4/-)

Rosehearty Rhymes is a little book of over 130 pages of very creditable verse on subjects of interest to the life of a

fishing town in the north-east of Scotland.

There are many

spots of historical interest in the neighbourhood, ruined castles, holy wells, fairy-haunted dells, and such like. The people are a sturdy race, come of Teutonic, mostly Scandinavian, stockwitness their calling a certain tangle of seaweed "Balder's Locks"-and now they have Murison for their saga-man. He

sings in humorous moralising fashion of the adventures of certain characters who were great in nature's lore, though by no means persona grate to the lairds and their satellites. The worthies portrayed in the "Three Poachers" are outstanding figures. "The Fairies at Pitsligo Castle" shows imagination, dramatic instinct, and successful treatment of the supernatural. The writer is an optimist, as the true poet ought to be, and his creed is summarised in the lines on "A Proper Faith," from which we quote one verse

"He who has a proper faith

Says no ill of Life or Death;
Life, he calls it mercy given;

Death, the gateway into Heaven."

Burnsites will be pleased to hear that most, though not all, of his work is in the vernacular. He sings of love in lines on a

"Bonny Jean" of Buchan—

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Other examples in the same vein are "A Spring Sang," "O, Meggie Wull," "Awa' Owre the Links wi' Sandy," and "Katie's Sang." Sometimes the poet strikes a more solemn note, as in "Angels " and "A Hymn for Old Age," worthy of a place in the revised Hymnary---

"The gloaming falls; the stars come out;
A mystic light is on the sea-

A reflex floating round about
Of glories that abide with Thee.

O Father, lead me, near or far,

To where Thy wondrous glories are.”

Such is the concluding verse of the "Hymn," and one may see from its tone that our poet is akin in spirit to some of the old Hebrew Psalmists.

J. PEACOCK.

NOTES, QUERIES, AND ANSWERS.

THE BURNS COTTAGE AND MONUMENT, ALLOWAY.

The number of persons who paid for admission to the Burns Cottage at Alloway during the twelve months ended September 30, 1925, was 59,244. The number for the previous twelve months was 59,370.

At the Burns Monument during the same period 59,345 persons passed through the turnstiles. The greatest number that visited the Monument on one day was 1601, on Glasgow Fair Monday, and the record for a week was 7116, in Glasgow Fair week. The total number of visitors to the Monument during the twelve months shows an increase of 4632 over the number for the previous twelve months.

THE BURNS HOUSE AT IRVINE.

On the morning of Sunday, September 13, 1925, fire broke out in an attic of a house at 4 Glasgow Vennel, Irvine, and spread so rapidly that before the arrival of the local fire brigade the upper part of the building was gutted. The lower part subsequently sustained damage which rendered it uninhabitable.

The burned house was that in which Burns lodged during his stay in Irvine, from August, 1781, till the spring of 1782. and the room he occupied was, until Sunday, practically as during his tenancy. His heckling shop, out of which he and his partner, Peacock, were burned on Hogmanay night, 1781, still stands at the rear of another property a few yards further along the street. The stonework over the fireplace in the room in which he lodged still bears in deeply cut letters, "R. B., 1782," and this inscription, being in stone, has not been destroyed by the fire.

Irvine Burns Club had arranged to mark the poet's lodgingplace by a bronze tablet on the wall. The tablet had just come to hand, and arrangements had been made to have it placed in position prior to the club's centenary celebrations. As the walls and lower part of the house are still standing, it is hoped that the upper part of the structure will be restored to its original form, and an interesting Burns relic preserved.

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