pseudonym which indicates only a descending orb, I am here to-night as the recipient of an oriental ovation, whose oriental magnificence is equalled only by its oriental significance." He enjoyed his stay in Turkey, though at the end of a year he resigned, and a month after his return was reëlected to Congress. "The ineradicable desire to be near one's own " was the probable reason for his homecoming. "I already feel the sweet lagerbier breezes from the Isle of Coney," he writes. It is a wonder that his untamable exuberance of fun and his entire lack of verbal restraint did not involve him in official difficulties. In his "Diplomat in Turkey," he describes his reception by the Sultan Abdul Hamid II-a potentate whom Cox held in much respect. It is fortunate that Turkish dignity is too deep to be discerning, else there might have. been seen in the pages devoted to this solemn function the brisk Ohioan's sense of the ridiculous cropping out in every line. As it was, he almost slipped up diplomatically over a word in his presentation address. The word was " entanglements," borrowed in patriotic fashion from the Farewell Address of him who was no humorist. Cox had turned this word into the French "enchevêtrement." Even Oriental subtlety could, for a season, season, make nothing of this strange word. His serious reputation rests on his congressional labors for the life-saving service, and for the betterment of the condition of letter-carriers. The statue of Cox in Astor Place, erected by the carriers, was a grateful and genuine offering to his memory. His popular reputation rests on his wit, and his oratory, not unlearned, yet always comprehensible. He is not the only American whose reputation has been in a way injured by a strong sense of humor, and an inability to repress or compress that sense. Possibly Dr. Talmage best explained Cox when he said of him: "He was the first and the last of that kind of man "-though Hamlet, without girding also, said the same thing at the grave. JOHN HAY Special ability, social aptitudes, sufficient wealth, and doubtless political influence, all play their parts in our foreign appointments. But the nation takes a reasonable satisfaction in the addition of D. C. L. after Mr. Lowell's name, and values the more his reputation as a man of letters. Even Mr. Schenck's contribution to the literature of draw poker was playfully recognized as a sort of concession to our traditions in this matter. It is not so clear, however, in what light other countries view our policy. At the time of Mr. Hay's appointment as Ambassador to England, London journals commented favorably on the choice, and gave an almost equal greeting to Mr. Hay the man of letters, and Mr. Hay the astute and competent man of affairs. It was noticeable that these complimentary leaders missed, as the English point of view often does miss, our own motives for sending so admirable a representative. They seemed to see in Mr. Hay another gratifying specimen of our native American wit. The Academy hailed him with enthusiasm as the author of " Pike County Ballads," quoted from "Little Breechesi and "Jim Bludso," and forgot to mention, parenthetically, that Mr. Hay was part author of an important contribution to our national annals, entitled "Abraham Lincoln: a History." The Spectator, in most friendly fashion, held out the hand to Mr. Hay's peculiarly American humor and peculiarly American audacity of imagination," and with British frankness said that in lieu of any "peculiar species of diplomats trained after European models, such men as Mr. Lowell, Mr. Bayard, and Colonel Hay would answer all purposes. The Saturday Review, which until lately did not pretend to love us, spoke cordially of the new Ambassador's "reputation for courtesy and high ability" on the moment of his departure to assume the yet higher responsibilities of his present office, where he is bearing out the truth of the English journals' just compliments. It is rumored that our present Secretary of State would fain have the world forget that "Jim Bludso" and the " Mystery of Gilgal" are children of his. This would be a pity, for the transatlantic praise is just, though a trifle fulsome. Hay's early ballads read well to-day, though written before the rough ethics therein announced were duly accepted here, or elsewhere, as current American coin. Born in 1838, and a graduate of Brown University, which has furnished a fair proportion of our literary diplomats, colonel in the Civil War, Hay was later Secretary of Legation in Paris, Madrid and Vienna. He profited deeply by all his experiences; in particular his stay in Spain yielded good fruit. "Castillian Days" is still crisp reading. No change in Mr. Hay since has ever affected the American note so strongly sounded in that book, wherein he says: "There are those who think of Spaniards as not fit for freedom. I believe that no people are fit for anything else." The great fact of Hay's constantly expanding career was his association with Abraham Lincoln. No dignity of statesmanship can exceed the significance of such an experience. The great traditions. of our national life are nobly carried on while it remains true that the present heavy burdens of our State Department are now shouldered by one who was near that revered President when he knew the full cup of sorrow during the war for the preservation of this Union, and who was at his bedside when Abraham Lincoln tasted the mingled bitterness and joy of death. When he was a younger man, Secretary Hay wrote a few mildly cynical distichs, one of them as follows: There are three species of creatures who when they seem coming are going, When they seem going they come : diplomats, women and crabs. No one has ever been found, even those enemies which all able men must have, willing to say that these verses can be turned against their author. ARTHUR SHERBURNE HARDY High official position of late years does not seem to have stimulated Mr. Hardy's literary activities; but even if he were to write no more, he would still have a sure fame. His three novels " But yet a Woman," "The Wind of Destiny," and "Passé Rose" all published in the eighties had each its day of success, though the first will be the last to be forgotten. Professor Hardy, son of an old Boston merchant, was thirty-one years old when he made so quiet a venture into literature that he signed his poem "Francesca of Rimini" with his initials only. A graduate of West Point, and for a short time in the artillery service, he resigned from the army to take up what really has been his significant life work-the teaching of mathematics, and the writing of important works on several branches of his knowledge. His professional career is identified with Dartmouth College, and while there he won his fame as a writer of stories. In 1892 he edited the "Life and Letters of Joseph Hardy Neesima." In 1897 he was appointed Minister and Consul-General to Persia, and in 1899, Envoy and Minister to Greece, Roumania and Servia. This post he still holds, the latest and not the least eminent of the names which have found a place in these brief studies. To praise the quality and high character of his works of fiction publics," and there is already announced would be mere supererogation. "A Century of American Diplomacy," by John W. Foster, late Secretary of State, and ex-Minister of the United States to Mexico, Russia, Spain, Germany, China, Japan, the British West Indies and San Domingo. Mr. Foster's length of diplomatic services outranks that of any American except John Quincy Adams. His book ought to brim over with reminiscence. The author of "The Breadwinners," to this day unknown, though suspected to be John Hay, once admitted in a letter that he would be irreparably injured in his professional standing were it known that he had begotten a novel. In Mr. Hardy's case there certainly has been no proscription in diplomatic ranks against a man who has written stories. The limit set to these few papers has already been exceeded, and the tale is not fully told. There yet remain names which are omitted with reluctance, but to admit them would be again to exclude other and worthy names. It may have seemed a stupidity to omit Charles Francis Adams, whose scholarly editing of his father's and grandfather's diaries was of infinitely greater value to American letters than are some of the books which have been here mentioned. Yet General Read and Mr. Cox, to speak of them by way of contrast, did write volumes based on their foreign experiences, while Mr. Adams did not. It would be proper in a more extended scheme to include such a diplomat as J. L. M. Curry, formerly Minister to Spain, and justly of repute, not only for his achievements abroad, but for his efforts in behalf of educational interests especially in the South. Unwillingly also I make only this slight mention of his brilliant secretary of legation, afterward minister to Ecuador and then to Chili, Edward Henry Strobel, who published, two years ago, a concise political history of the Spanish Revolution, 1868-1875. Mr. Strobel's promising career in diplomacy was probably made possible by a severe but judicially fair pamphlet (1884) on Mr. Blaine as Secretary of State. Only a few weeks since appeared a work by the exMinister to Colombia, Mr. W. L. Scruggs, entitled "Colombian and Venezuelan Re To have taken into consideration the consular, or the secondary branch of the diplomatic service-would again have extended these papers to an inordinate length. Yet something has certainly been lost by such an omission, for among the names of those who have served the country in this minor yet important capacity, are some which have conferred especial distinction on our literature. Not to find Nathaniel Hawthorne, Richard Hildreth, S. G. Goodrich (the immortal "Peter Parley "), Donald G. Mitchell, Bret Harte, Francis H. Underwood, William D. Howells, Jeremiah Curtin, and some others, not herein enrolled, suggests incompleteBut the consular literature might easily be made another story by him who has the patience to undertake it. ness. In passing over these various careers, many of them so distinguished and reflecting so great honor on their country, it has seemed to me that a practice, now in vogue for over a century, of sending abroad men who are trained in something more than the art of politics, has been amply sustained by the results. The diplomat is seldom a necessary man until an emergency arises, and when it does he who is trained to the finer processes of thought may play his part with eminent. success. A Platt or a Croker would inevitably win in the primaries against the Adamses or the Bayards. But in a field where tradition, scrupulous etiquette, high breeding, must be dealt with, our representatives who have been trained as gentlemen and scholars, are more likely to wield a neat and dexterous blade, than are those forceful characters whose natural weapons of defence are too blunt speech and overbearing manners, no matter what their native ability. Our diplomats are our one pronounced concession to the undemocratic methods of courts, and on the whole we have not made a mess of it, though the question of a proper garb has at times been a disturbing factor, and until lately the subsidiary position of our ministers, ranking under ambassadors, has not always worked well. Other countries, England in particular, have appeared to like the appointments of ministers who have conferred some literary distinction on this country. this country. Some of these diplomats were called because they had written books; some went abroad, like Bayard Taylor, in order that they might gather material; while others, influenced by gracious impressions received in foreign parts, have, on their return, distinctly added to our intellectual wealth. It may be doubtful if we shall ever again be represented by more brilliant or effective men of letters than Irving, Motley or Lowell, but I think that our public servants abroad are inclined to recognize it as a charge laid upon them to embody the results of their observation and study in permanent shape. Lindsay Swift. -From "The Search of Ceres, and Other Poems." By Sarah Warner Brooks. By permission of A. Wessels Co. THE BEST BOOKS ABOUT MUSIC WHAT should one read about music? Ten years ago this question could have been answered within the space of one or two minutes; to-day a neat little volume, descriptive and critical might be written about books that deal with music; so rapia has been the rise of a purely musical literature. Naturally I refer in both cases to books in the vernacular. The vast interest being manifested in the art, an interest that grows on what it feeds; the striking activities in the operatic and symphonic fields and the general facilities for a sound musical education-all these were and are the reasons for marked critical labors, for what the booksellers call "an increasing output" in this sort of literature. And a sign of the musical times is specialization. Histories of music full of rambling information are no longer popular; their very attempt at comprehensiveness led to vagueness, to a barren repetition. It is now the point of view, the particular angle from which a particular musical period is viewed, and so the man of strong individual views, of even a purposely narrow range, is read, marked and inwardly digested. There is Finck's "Life of Wagner" with its clean sweep of historical, personal and critical data; the "Chopin" of Niecks is another all embracing work on the subject, though Finck's "Chopin and Other Essays" set the Polish ball rolling in this country; Liszt's brochure being semi-rhapsodical, while the best of Karasowski's letters are embodied in the volumes of Finck's. We no longer read about Bach in biographical dictionaries, for have we not Spitta's masterly work? To know all there is to be known about Mozart we go to Jahn, as we will doubtlessly go to the Thayer-Krehbiel work when we wish to gain a final opinion of Beethoven. But are there not other books about music, books which are not drily exegetical, nor yet subjective flights of fancy; in a word, books for the lover of music, for the man and woman who go to all the good concerts, symphonic, oratorio and mixed, who are seen at all the artistic performances of opera. The answer may be read now. Books about music have been written and are being written that leave no nook or cranny unexplored; books about the opera, cantatas and oratorios; books about the orchestra; books about the pianoforte, violin and voice; semi-technical but not crabbed books describing the various orchestral instruments; historical and æsthetic books, and lastly, books about Wagner and his music dramas, a little library in itself. Where poverty, dullness and the academic reigned, is now a field for the exploitation of the novel, nay, for the expression of literary charm. Music, too, must have its Ruskins, its Arnolds, its Paters, its Sainte-Beuves and its Taines. Naturally, enough, like the poor, we shall always have the dictionaries with us, for they are the raw stuff from which books about music are made. And no matter how cunning the memory, it needs occasional refreshing. One must, at times, look up dates and names, for in the verification of references lies the path to true scholarship. For this purpose there are "Herman's Hand-book of Music," with its biographical notices of seventeen hundred composers, its compilation of over three thousand terms. Or, for the naked facts, you may read Josiah Booth's "Everybody's Guide to Music." Within a small compass it tells much that is absolutely necessary to know. An amplification of this elementery knowledge may be found in Frederick J. Crowest's "Musical Groundwork," which is a manual of |