The Best Short Stories of 1917, and the Yearbook of the American Short Story

by Unknown

V

It was dusk when Maw came back; dusk of a clear day, with a rosy sunset off behind the hills. Luke opened the door for her and he saw that she had brought some of the sun along in with her—its colors in her worn face; its peace in her eyes. She was the same, yet somehow new. Even the tilt of her crazy old bonnet could not detract from a strange new dignity that clothed her.

She did not speak at once, going over to warm her gloveless hands at the stove, and staring up at the Grampaw Peel plate; then:

"When it comes—my Nat's medal—it's goin' to set right up here, 'stead o' this old thing—an' the letters and the sermons in my shell box I got on my weddin' trip.... Lawyer Ritchie told me to-day what it means, the name o' that medal—Cross o' War! It's a decoration fur soldiers and earned by bravery."

She paused; then broke out suddenly:

"I b'en a fool, settin' here grievin'. My Nat was a hero, an' I never knew it!... A hero's folks hadn't ought to cry. It's a thing too big for that. Come here, you little Luke! Maw hain't b'en real good to you an' Tommy lately. You're gittin' all white an' peaked. Too much frettin' 'bout Nat. You an' me's got to stop it, I tell you. Folks round here ain't goin' to let us fret—"

"Folks! Maw!" The words burst from the boy's heart. "Did they find out?... You showed it to 'em? Uncle Clem—"

Maw sniffed.

"Clem! Oh, he was real took aback; but he don't count in on this—not big enough." Then triumph hastened her story. "It's the big ones that's mixin' into this, Lukey. Seems like they'd heard somethin' a spell back in one o' the county papers, an' we didn't know.... Anyhow, when I first got into town I met Judge Geer. He had me right into his office in Masonic Hall 'fore I could git my breath almost—had me settin' in his private room, an' sent his stenugifer out fur a cup o' cawfee fur me. He had me give him the letter to read, an' asked dare he make some copies. The stenugifer took 'em like lightnin', right there.

"The judge had a hard time of it, coughin' an' blowin' over that letter. He's goin' to send some copies to the New York papers right off. He took me acrost the hall and interduced me to Lawyer Ritchie. Lawyer Ritchie, he read the letter too. 'A hero!' they called Nat; an' me 'A hero's mother!'

"'We ain't goin' to forgit this, Mis' Haynes,' Lawyer Ritchie said. 'This here whole town's proud o' your Nat.'... My land! I couldn't sense it all!... Me, Delia Haynes, gettin' her hand wrung, 'count o' anything Nat'd b'en doin', by the big bugs round town! Judge Geer, he fetched 'em all out o' their offices—Slade, the supervisor, and Fuller Brothers, and old Sumner Pratt—an' all! An' Ben Watson asked could he have a copy to put in the Bi-weekly. It's goin' to take the whole front page, with an editor'al inside. He said the Rockville Center News'd most likely copy it too.

"I was like in a dream!... All I'd aimed to do was to let some o' them folks know that those people acrost the ocean had thought well of our Nat, an' here they was breakin' their necks to git in on it too!... Goin' down the street they was more of it. Lu Shiffer run right out o' the hardware store an' left the nails he was weighin' to shake hands with me; and Jem Brand came; and Lan'lord Peters come out o' the Valley House an' spoke to me.... I felt awful public. An' Jim Beckonridge come out of the Emporium to shake too.

"'I ain't seen you down in town fur quite a spell,' he sez. 'How are you all up there to the farm?... Want to say I'm real proud o' Nat—a boy from round here!' he sez.... Old Beckonridge, that was always wantin' to arrest Nat fur takin' his chestnuts or foolin' down in the store!

"I just let 'em drift—seein' they had it all fixed fur me. All along the street they come an' spoke to me. Mame Parmlee, that ain't b'en able to see me fur three years, left off sweepin' her porch an' come down an' shook my hand, an' cried about it; an' that stylish Mis' Willowby, that's president o' the Civil Club, followed me all over the Square and asked dare she read a copy o' the letter an' tell about Nat to the schoolhouse next Wednesday.

"It seems Judge Geer had gone out an' spread it broadcast that I was in town, for they followed me everywhere. Next thing I run into Reverend Kearns and Reverend Higby, huntin' me hard. They both had one idee.

"'We wanted to have a memor'al service to the churches 'bout Nat,' they sez; 'then it come over us that it was the town's affair really. So, Mis' Haynes,' they sez, 'we want you should share this thing with us. You mustn't be selfish. You gotta give us a little part in it too. Are you willin'?'"

"It knocked me dumb—me givin' anybody anything! Well, to finish, they's to be a big public service in the Town Hall on Friday. They'll have it all flags—French ones, an' our'n too. An' the ministers'll preach; an' Judge Geer'll tell Nat's story an' speak about him; an' the Ladies' Guild'll serve a big hot supper, because they'll probably be hundreds out; an' they'll read the letters an' have prayers for our Nat!" She faltered a moment. "An' we'll be there too—you an' me an' Tom—settin' in the seat o' honor, right up front!... It'll be the greatest funeral service this town's ever seen, Luke."

Maw's face was crimson with emotion.

"An' Uncle Clem an' Aunt Mollie—"

"Oh—them!" Maw came back to earth and smiled tolerantly. "They was real sharp to be in it too. Mollie took me into the parlor an' fetched a glass o' wine to stren'then me up." Maw mused a moment; then spoke with a touch of patronage: "I'm goin' to knit Clem some new socks this winter. He says he can't git none like the oldtime wool ones; an' the market floors are cold. Clem's done what he could, an' I'll be real glad to help him out.... Oh, I asked 'em to come an' set with us at the service—S'norta too. I allowed we could manage to spare 'em the room."

She dreamed again, launched on a sea of glory; then roused to her final triumph:

"But that's only part, Luke. The best's comin'. Jim Beckonridge wants you to go down an' see him. 'That lame boy o' yours,' he sez, 'was in here a spell ago with some notion about raisin' bees an' buckwheat together, an' gittin' a city market fur buckwheat honey. Slipped my mind,' he sez, 'till I heard what Nat'd done; an' then it all come back. City party this summer had the same notion an' was lookin' out for a likely place to invest some cash in. You send that boy down an' we'll talk it over. Shouldn't wonder if he'd get some backin'. I calculate I might help him, myself,' he sez, 'I b'en thinkin' of it too.'... Don't seem like it could hardly be true."

"Oh, Maw!" Luke's pulses were leaping wildly. Buckwheat honey was the dear dream of many a long hour's wistful meditation. "If we could—I could study up about it an' send away fur printed books. We could make some money—"

But Maw had not yet finished.

"An' they's some about Tom, too, Luke! That young Doctor Wells down there—he's on'y b'en there a year—he come right up, an' spoke to me, in the midst of several. 'I want to talk about your boy,' he sez. 'I've wanted to fur some time, but didn't like to make bold; but now seem's as good a time as any.' 'They're all talkin' of him,' I sez. 'Well,' he sez, 'I don't mean the dead, but the livin' boy—the one folks calls Big Tom. I've heard his story, an' I got a good look over him down here in the store a while ago. Woman'—he sez it jest like that—'if that big boy o' your'n had a little operation, he'd be as good as any.'

"I answered him patient, an' told him what ailed Tom an' why he couldn't be no different—jest what old Doc Andrews told us—that they was a little piece o' bone druv deep into his skull that time he fell. He spoke real vi'lent then. 'But—my Lord!—woman,' he sez, 'that's what I'm talkin' about. If we jack up that bone'—trepannin', he called it too—'his brains'd git to be like anybody else's.' Told me he wants fur us to let him look after it. Won't cost anything unless we want. They's a hospital to Rockville would tend to it, an' glad to—when we git ready.... My poor Tommy!... Don't seem's if it could be true."

Her face softened, and she broke up suddenly.

"I got good boys all round," she wept. "I always said it; an' now folks know."

Luke lay on the old settle, thinking. In the air-tight stove the hickory fagots crackled, with jeweled color-play. On the other side Tom sat whittling silently—Tom, who would presently whittle no more, but rise to be a man.

It was incredible! Incredible that the old place might some day shake off its shackles of poverty and be organized for a decent struggle with life! Incredible that Maw—stepping briskly about getting the supper—should be singing!

Already the room seemed filled and warmed with the odors of prosperity and self-respect. Maw had put a red geranium on the table; there was the crispy fragrance of frying salt pork and soda biscuit in the air.

These the Hayneses! These people, with hope and self-esteem once more in their hearts! These people, with a new, a unique place in the community's respect! It was all like a beautiful miracle; and, thinking of its maker, Luke choked suddenly and gulped.

There was a moist spot on the old Mexican hairless right under his eyes; but it had been made by tears of pride, not sorrow. Maw was right! A hero's folks hadn't ought to cry. And he wouldn't. Nat was better off than ever—safe and honored. He had trod the path of glory. A line out of the boy's old Reader sprang to his mind: "The paths of glory lead but to the grave." Oh, but it wasn't true! Nat's path led to life—to hope; to help for all of them, for Nat's own. In his death, if not in his life, he had rehabilitated them. And Nat—who loved them—would look down and call it good.

In spite of himself the boy sobbed, visioning his brother's face.

"Oh, Nat!" he whispered. "I knew you'd do it! I always said you'd do somethin' big for us all."

---

CHING, CHING, CHINAMAN[20]

By WILBUR DANIEL STEELE

From The Pictorial Review

How gaily we used to chant it over Yen Sin's scow when I was a boy on Urkey water-front, and how unfailingly it brought the minister charging down upon us. I can see him now, just as he used to burst upon our vision from the wharf lane, face paper-white, eyes warm with a holy wrath, lips moving uncontrollably. And I can hear his voice trembling at our heels as we scuttled off:

"For shame, lads! Christ died for him, lads! For shame! Shame!"

And looking back I can see him there on the wharf above the scow, hands hanging, shoulders falling together, brooding over the unredeemed.

Minister Malden had seen "the field" in a day of his surging youth—seen it, and no more. He had seen it from the deck of the steamer by which he had come out, and by which he had now to return, since his seminary bride had fallen sick on the voyage. He perceived the teeming harbor clogged with junks and house-boats, the muddy river, an artery out of the heart of darkness, the fantastic, colored shore-lines, the vast, dull drone of heathendom stirring in his ears, the temple gongs calling blindly to the blind, the alluring and incomprehensible accents of the boatmen's tongue which he was to have made his own and lightened with the fierce sweet name of the Cross—and now could not.

Poor young Minister Malden, he turned his face away. He gave up "the field" for the bride, and when the bride went out in mid-ocean, he had neither bride nor field. He drifted back to New England, somehow or other, and found Yen Sin.

He found another bride too; Minister Malden was human. It was a mercy of justice, folks said, when Widow Gibbs got a man like Minister Malden. Heaven knows she had had bad enough luck with Gibbs, a sallow devil of a whaler who never did a fine act in his life till he went down with his vessel and all hands in the Arctic one year and left Sympathy Gibbs sitting alone in the Pillar House on Lovett's Court, pretty, plump, and rather well-to-do as Urkey goes.

Everybody in the island was glad enough when those two undertook to mend each other's blasted life—everybody but Mate Snow. He had been thinking of Sympathy Gibbs himself, they said; and they said he stood behind the prescription screen in his drug-store far into the night, after the betrothal was given out in Center Church, his eyes half-closed, his thin lips bluish white, and hell-fire smouldering out of sight in him. And they said Mate was the kind that never forget. That was what made it so queer.

It seems to me that I must remember the time when the minister lived in the Pillar House with Sympathy Gibbs.

Back there in the mists of youth I seem to see them walking home together after the Sunday morning preaching, arm in arm and full of a sedate joy; turning in between the tubbed box-trees at Lovett's Court, loitering for a moment to gaze out over the smooth harbor and nod to the stragglers of the congregation before they entered the big green door flanked by the lilac panes.

Perhaps it was told me. There can be no question, though, that I remember the night when Minister Malden came home from the Infield Conference, a father of two days' standing. Urkey village made a festival of that homecoming to the tiny daughter he had never seen, and to Sympathy Gibbs, weak and waiting and radiant. Yes, I remember.

We were all at the landing, making a racket. The minister looked ill when he came over the packet's side, followed by Mate Snow, who had gone to Conference with him as lay delegate from Center Church. Our welcome touched him in a strange and shocking way; he staggered and would have fallen had it not been for Mate's quick hand. He had not a word to say to us; he walked up the shore street between the wondering lines till he came to the Pillar House, and there he stood for a moment, silhouetted against the open door, a drooping, hunted figure, afraid to go in.

We saw his shadow later, moving uncertainly across the shades in the upper chamber where Sympathy Gibbs lay with her baby, his hand lifted once with the fingers crooked in mysterious agony. Some one started a hymn in the street below and people took it up, bawling desperately for comfort to their souls. Mate Snow didn't sing. He stood motionless between the box-trees, staring up at the lighted window shades, as if waiting. By-and-by Minister Malden came down the steps, and moving away beside him like a drunken man, went to live in the two rooms over the drugstore. And that was the beginning of it.

Folks said Mate Snow was not the kind to forget an injury, and yet it was Mate who stood behind the minister through those first days of shock and scandal, who out-faced the congregation with his stubborn, tight lips, and who shut off the whisperings of the Dorcas Guild with the sentence which was destined to become a sort of formula on his tongue through the ensuing years:

"You don't know what's wrong, and neither do I; but we can all see the man's a saint, can't we?"

"But the woman?" some still persisted.

"Sympathy Gibbs? You ought to know Sympathy Gibbs by this time."

And if there was a faint curling at the corners of his lips, they were all too dull to wonder at it. As for me, the boy, I took the changing phenomena of life pretty well for granted, and wasted little of my golden time speculating about such things. But as I look back now on the blunt end of those Urkey days, I seem to see Minister Malden growing smaller as he comes nearer, and Mate Snow growing larger—Mate Snow browbeating the congregation with a more and more menacing righteousness—Minister Malden, in his protecting shadow, leaner, grayer, his eyes burning with an ever fiercer zeal, escaping Center Church and slipping away to redeem the Chinaman.

"There is more joy in heaven over one sinner," was his inspiration, his justification, and, I suspect, his blessed opiate.

But it must have been hard on Yen Sin. I remember him now, a steam-blurred silhouette, earlier than the earliest, later than the latest, swaying over his tubs and sad-irons in the shanty on the stranded scow by Pickett's wharf, dreaming perhaps of the populous rivers of his birth, or of the rats he ate, or of the opium he smoked at dead of night, or of those weird, heathen idols before which he bowed down his shining head—familiar and inscrutable alien.

An evening comes back to me when I sat in Yen Sin's shop and waited for my first "stand up" collar to be ironed, listening with a kind of awe to the tide making up the flats, muffled and unfamiliar, and inhaling the perfume compounded of steam, soap, hot linen, rats, opium, tea, idols and what-not peculiar to Yen Sin's shop and to a thousand lone shops in a thousand lone villages scattered across the mainland. When the precious collar was at last in my hands, still limp and hot from its ordeal, Yen Sin hung over me in the yellow nimbus of the lamp, smiling at my wonder. I stared with a growing distrust at the flock of tiny bird-scratches inked on the band.

"What," I demanded suspiciously, "is that?"

"Lat's Mista You," he said, nodding his head and summoning another hundred of wrinkles to his damp, polished face.

"That ain't my name. You don't know my name," I accused him.

"Mista Yen Sin gottee name, allee light."

The thing fascinated me, like a serpent.

"Whose name is that, then?" I demanded, pointing to a collar on the counter between us. The band was half-covered with the cryptic characters, done finely and as if with the loving hand of an artist.

Yen Sin held it up before his eyes in the full glow of the lamp. His face seemed incredibly old; not senile, like our white-beards mumbling on the wharves, but as if it had been a long, long time in the making and was still young. I thought he had forgotten me, he was so engrossed in his handiwork.

"Lat colla?" he mused by-and-by. "Lat's Mista Minista, boy."

"Mister Minister Malden?"

And there both of us stared a little, for there was a voice at the door.

"Yes? Yes? What is it?"

Minister Malden stood with his head and shoulders bent, wary of the low door-frame, and his eyes blinking in the new light. I am sure he did not see me on the bench; he was looking at Yen Sin.

"How is it with you to-night, my brother?"

The Chinaman straightened up and faced him, grave, watchful.

"Fine," he said. "Mista Yen Sin fine. Mista Minista fine, yes?"

He bowed and motioned his visitor to a rocker, upholstered with a worn piece of Axminster and a bit of yellow silk with half a dragon on it. The ceremony, one could see, was not new. Vanishing into the further mysteries of the rear, he brought out a bowl of tea, steaming, a small dish of heathenish things, nuts perhaps, or preserves, deposited the offering on the minister's pointed knees, and retired behind the counter to watch and wait.

An amazing change came over the minister. Accustomed to seeing him gentle, shrinking, illusively non-resisting, I scarcely knew this white flame of a man, burning over the tea-bowl!

"You are kind to me," he cried, "and yet your heart is not touched. I would give up my life gladly, brother, if I could only go up to the Throne and say to Jesus, 'Behold, Lord, Thy son, Yen Sin, kneeling at the foot of the Cross. Thou gavest me the power, Lord, and the glory is thine!' If I could say that, brother, I—I—"

His voice trailed off, though his lips continued to move uncertainly. His face was transfigured, his eyes filmed with dreams. He was looking beyond Yen Sin now, and on the lost yellow millions. The tea, untasted, smoked upward into his face, an insidious, narcotic cloud. I can think of him now as he sat there, wresting out of his easeless years one moment of those seminary dreams; the color of far-away, the sweet shock of the alien and the bizarre, the enormous odds, the Game. The walls of Yen Sin's shop were the margins of the world, and for a moment the missionary lived.

"He would soften your heart," he murmured. "In a wondrous way. Have you never thought, Yen Sin, 'I would like to be a good man'?"

The other spread his right hand across his breast.

"Mista Yen Sin velly humble dog. Mista Yen Sin no good. Mista Yen Sin's head on le glound. Mista Yen Sin velly good man. Washy colla fine."

It was evidently an old point, an established score for the heathen.

"Yes, I must say, you do do your work. I've brought you that collar for five years now, and it still seems new." The minister's face fell a little. Yen Sin continued grave and alert.

"And Mista Matee Snow, yes? His colla allee same like new, yes?"

"Yes, I must say!" The other shook himself. "But it's not that, brother. We're all of us wicked, Yen Sin, and unless we—"

"Mista Minista wickee?"

For a moment the minister's eyes seemed fascinated by the Chinaman's; pain whitened his face.

"All of us," he murmured uncertainly, "are weak. The best among us sins in a day enough to blacken eternity. And unless we believe, and have faith in the Divine Mercy of the Father, and confess—confession—" His voice grew stronger and into it crept the rapt note of one whose auditor is within. "Confession! A sin confessed is no longer a sin. The word spoken out of the broken and contrite heart makes all things right. If one but had faith in that! If—if one had Faith!"

The life went out of his voice, the fire died in his eyes, his fingers drooped on the tea-bowl. The Chinaman's clock was striking the half after seven. He stared at the floor, haggard with guilt.

"Dear me, I'm late for prayer-meeting again. Snow will be looking for me."

I slipped out behind him, glad enough of Urkey's raw air after that close chamber of mysteries. I avoided the wharf-lane, however, more than a little scared by this sudden new aspect of the Minister, and got myself out to the shore street by Miah White's yard and the grocery porch, and there I found myself face to face with Mate Snow. That frightened me still more, for the light from Henny's Notions' window was shining oddly in his eyes.

"You're lookin' for the minister," I stammered, ducking my head.

He stopped and stared down at me, tapping a sole on the cobbles.

"What's this? What's this?"

"He—he says you'd be lookin' for 'im, an' I seen 'im to the Chinaman's an' he's comin' right there, honest he is, Mr. Snow."

"Oh! So? I'd be looking for him, would I?"

"Y—y—yessir."

I sank down on the grocery steps and studied my toes.

"He was there, though!" I protested in desperation, when we had been waiting in vain for a long quarter-hour. The dark monitor lifted his chin from his collar and looked at his watch.

"It's hard," I heard him sigh, as he turned away down Lovett's Court, where Center Church blossomed with its prayer-meeting lamps. Shadows of the uneasy flock moved across the windows; Emsy Nickerson, in his trustee's black, peered out of the door into the dubious night, and beyond him in the bright vestry Aunt Nickerson made a little spot of color, agitated, nursing formless despairs, an artist in vague dreads.

I was near enough, at the church steps, to hear what Mate told them.

"I'll lead to-night. He's gone out in the back-country to pray alone."

Aunt Nickerson wept quietly, peeping from the corners of her eyes. Reverent awe struggled with an old rebellion in Emsy's face, and in others as they came crowding. The trustee broke out bitterly:

"Miah White's took to the bottle again, along o' him. If only he'd do his prayin' at Miah's house a spell, 'stead o' the back-country—"

"There was a back-country in Judea," Mate cried him down. "And some one prayed there, not one night, but forty nights and days!"

What a far cry it was from the thwarted lover behind the prescription screen, fanning the flames of hell-fire through the night, to the Seer thundering in the vestry—had there been any there with heads enough to wonder at it.

It happened from time to time, this mysterious retreat into the moors, more frequently as the Infield Conference drew on and the hollows deepened in the minister's cheeks and his eyes shone brighter with foreboding. Nor was this the first time the back-country had been mentioned in the same breath with the Wilderness of Judea. I can remember our Miss Beedie, in Sunday School, lifting her eyes and sighing at the first verse of the fourth chapter of the Book of Luke.

And to-night, while I crept off tingling through the dark of Lovett's Court, he was in the Wilderness again, and I had seen him last.

I brought up by one of the tubbed box-trees and peered in at the Pillar House with a new wonder. I was so used to it there, dead on the outside and living on the inside, that I had never learned to think of it as a strange thing. Perhaps a dozen times I had seen little Hope Gibbs (they still said "Gibbs") playing quietly among the lilacs in the back yard. It was always at dusk when the shadows were long there, and she a shadow among them, so unobtrusive and far away. As for her mother, no one ever saw Sympathy Gibbs.

Crouching by the box-tree, I found myself wondering what they were doing in there, Sympathy Gibbs and the little girl; whether they were sleeping, or whether they were sitting in the dark, thinking, or whispering about the husband and father who was neither husband nor father, or whether, in some remote chamber, there might not be a lamp or a candle burning.

The dead hush of the place oppressed me. I turned my head to look back at the comfortable, bumbling devotion of Center Church, and this is what I saw there.

The door was still open, a blank, bright rectangle giving into the deserted vestry, and it was against this mat of light that I spied Minister Malden's head and shoulders thrust furtively, as he peeped in and seemed to harken to the muffled unison of the prayer.

You may imagine me startled enough at that, but what of my emotion when, having peeped and listened and reassured himself for a dozen seconds, Minister Malden turned and came softly down the Court toward the gate and the box-trees and me, a furtive silhouette against the door-light, his face turned back over one shoulder.

I couldn't bolt; he was too close for that. The wonder was that he failed to see me, for he stopped within two yards of where I cowered in the shadow and stood for a long time gazing in between the trees at the pillared porch, and I could hear his breathing, uneven and laborious, as though he had been running or fighting. Once I thought he struck out at something with a vicious fist. Then his trouble was gone, between two winks, and he was gone too, up the walk and up the steps, without any to-do about it. I don't know whether he tapped on the door or not. It was open directly. I caught a passing glimpse of Sympathy Gibbs in the black aperture; the door closed on them both, and the Pillar House was dead again.

Now this was an odd way for Minister Malden to fast and pray in the Wilderness—odd enough, one would say, to keep me waiting there a while to see what would come of it all. But it didn't. I had had enough of mysteries for one Summer's night, or at any rate I had enough by the time I got my short legs, full tilt, into the shore street. For I had caught a fleeting glimpse, on the way, of a watcher in the shadow behind the other box-tree—Yen Sin, the heathen, with a surprised eyeball slanting at me over one shoulder.

Among the most impressive of the phenomena of life, as noted in my thirteenth year, is the amazing way in which a community can change while one is away from it a month. Urkey village at the beginning of my 'teens seemed to me much the same Urkey village upon which I had first opened my eyes. And then I went to make a visit with my uncle Orville Means in Gillyport, just across the Sound, and when I came back on the packet I could assure myself with all the somber satisfaction of the returning exile that I would scarcely have known the old place.

Gramma Pilot's cow had been poisoned. There had been a fire in the Selectmen's room at Town Hall. Amber Matheson had left Mrs. Wharf's Millinery and set up for herself, opposite the Eastern School. And Mate Snow, all of a sudden, had bought the old Pons house, on the hill hanging high over the town, and gone to live there. With a leap, and as it were behind my back, he sat there dominating the village and the harbor and the island—our Great Man.

He took Minister Malden with him, naturally, out of the two rooms over the store, into one room in the third story of the house on the hill—where Sympathy Gibbs could see him if she chose to look that way, as frankly and ignominiously a dependent as any baron's chaplain in the Golden Days.

"She'd have done better with Mate, after all," folks began to say.

But of all the changes in the village, the most momentous to me was the change in Yen Sin. I don't know why it should have been I, out of all the Urkey youth, who went to the Chinaman's; perhaps it was the spiritual itch left from that first adventure on the scow. At any rate, I had fallen into a habit of dropping in at the cabin, and not always with a collar to do.

I had succeeded in worming out of him the meaning of that first set of bird-scratches on my collar-band—"The boy who throws clam-shells"—and of a second and more elaborate writing—"The boy who is courageous in the face of all the water of the ocean, yet trembles before so much of it as may be poured in a wash-basin." There came a third inscription in time, but of that he would not tell me, nor of Mate Snow's, nor the minister's. It was a queer library he had, those fine-written collars of Urkey village.

He had been growing feebler so long and so gradually that I had made nothing of it. Once, I remember, it struck me queer that he wasn't working so hard as he had used to. Still earliest of all and latest of all, he would sometimes leave his iron cooling on the board now and stand for minutes of the precious day, dreaming out of the harbor window. When the sun was sinking, the shaft through the window bathed his head and his lean neck with a quality almost barbaric, and for a moment in the gloom made by the bright pencil, the new, raw things of Urkey faded out, leaving him alone in his ancient and ordered civilization, a little wistful, I think, and perhaps a little frightened, as a child waking from a long, dreaming sleep, to find his mother gone.

He had begun to talk about China, too, and the river where he was born. And I made nothing of it, it came on so gradually, day by day. Then I went away, as I have said, and came back again. I dropped in at the scow the second day after the packet brought me home.

"Hello, there!" I cried, peeping over the counter, "I got a collar for you to—to—" I began to stumble. "Mr. Yen Sin, dear me, what's the matter of you?"

"Mista Yen Sin fine," he said in a strengthless voice, smiling and nodding from the couch where he lay, half propped up by a gorgeous, faded cushion. "Mista Yen Sin go back China way pletty quick now, yes."

"Honest?"

He made no further answer, but took up the collar I had brought.

"You been gone Gillypo't, yes? You take colla China boy, yes?"

"Yessir!"

"He pletty nice man, Sam Low, yes?"

"Oh, you know him, then? Oh, he's all right, Yen Sin."

It was growing dark outside, and colder, with a rising wind from landward to seaward against the tide. A sense of something odd and wrong came over me; it was a moment before I could make it out. The fire was dead in the stove for the first time in memory and the Vestal irons were cold. Yen Sin asked me to light the lamp. In the waxing yellow glow he turned his eyes to mine, and mine were big.

"You know Mista God?" he questioned.

"Oh, yes," I answered soberly. "Yes, indeed."

"Mista God allee same like Mista Yen Sin, yes?"

I felt myself paling at his blasphemy, and thought of lightning.

"Mista God," he went on in the same speculative tone, "Mista God know allee bad things, allee same like Mista Yen Sin, yes?"

"Where is the minister?" I demanded in desperation.

"Mista Yen Sin likee see Mista Minista." When he added, with a transparent hand fluttering over his heart: "Like see pletty quick now," I seemed to fathom for the first time what was happening to him.

"Wait," I cried, too full of awe to know what I said. "Wait, wait, Yen Sin. I'll fetch 'im."

It was dark outside, the sky overcast, and the wind beginning to moan a high note across the roofs as it swept in from the moors and out again over the graying waters. In the shore street my eyes chanced upon the light of Center Church, and I remembered that it was meeting-night.

There was only a handful of worshippers that evening, but a thousand could have had no more eyes it seemed to me as I tiptoed down the aisle with the scandalized pad-pad of Emsy Nickerson's pursuing soles behind my back. Confusion seized me; I started to run, and had come almost up to Mister Malden before I had wit enough to discover that it wasn't Minister Malden at all, but Mate Snow in the pulpit, standing with an open hymn-book in one hand and staring down at me with grim, inquiring eyes. After a time I managed to stammer:

"The Chinaman, you know—he's goin' to die—the minister—"

Then I fled, dodging Emsy's legs. Confused voices followed me; Aunt Nickerson's full of a nameless horror; Mate Snow's, thundering: "Brother Hemans, you will please continue the meeting. I will go and see what I can do. But your prayers are needed here."

Poor Minister Malden! His hour had struck—the hour so long awaited—and now it was Mate Snow who should go to answer it. Perhaps the night had something to do with it, and the melancholy disaster of the wind. Perhaps it was the look of Mate Snow's back as he passed me, panting on the steps, his head bowed with his solemn and triumphant stewardship. But all of a sudden I hated him, this righteous man. He had so many things, and Minister Malden had nothing—nothing but the Chinaman's soul—and he was going to try and get that too.

I had to find Minister Malden, and right away. But where was he, and on prayer-meeting night too? My mind skipped back. The "Wilderness."

I was already ducking along the Court to reconnoiter the Pillar House, black and silent beyond the box-trees. And then I put my hands in my pockets, my ardor dimmed by the look of that vacant, staring face. What was I, a boy of thirteen, against that house? I could knock at the door, to be sure, as the minister had done that other night. Yes; but when I stood, soft-footed, on the porch, the thought that Sympathy Gibbs might open it suddenly and find me there sent the hands back again into the sanctuary of my pockets. What did I know of her? What did any one know of her? To be confronted by her, suddenly, in the dark behind a green door—I tiptoed down the steps.

If only there were a cranny of light somewhere in the dead place! I began to prowl around the yard, feeling adventurous enough, you may believe, for no boy had ever scouted that bit of Urkey land before. And I did find a light, beneath a drawn shade in the rear. Approaching as stealthily as a red Indian, I put one large, round eye to the aperture.

If I had expected a melodramatic tableau, I was disappointed. I had always figured the inside of the Pillar House as full of treasures, for they told tales of the old whaler's wealth. My prying eyes found it bare, like a deserted house gutted by seasons of tramps. A little fire of twigs and a broken butter-box on the hearth made a pathetic shift at domestic cheer. Minister Malden sat at one side of it, his back to me, his face half-buried in his hands. Little Hope Gibbs played quietly on the floor, building pig-pens with a box of matches, a sober, fire-lined shade. Sympathy Gibbs was not in the picture, but I heard her voice after a moment, coming out from an invisible corner.

"How much do you want this time, Will?"

"Want?" There was an anguished protest in the man's cry.

"Need, then." The voice was softer.

The minister's face dropped back in his hands, and after a moment the words came out between his tight fingers, hardly to be heard.

"Five hundred dollars, Sympathy."

I thought there was a gasp from the corner, suppressed. I caught the sound of a drawer pulled open and the vague rustling of skirts as the woman moved about. Her voice was as even as death itself.

"Here it is, Will. It brings us to the end, Will. God knows where it will come from next time."

"It—it—you mean—" An indefinable horror ran though the minister's voice, and I could see the cords shining on the hands which gripped the chair-arms. "Next time—next year—" His eyes were fixed on the child at his feet. "God knows where it will come from. Perhaps—before another time—something will happen. Dear little Hope—little girl!"

The child's eyes turned with a preoccupied wonder as the man's hand touched her hair; then went back to the alluring pattern of the matches.

Sympathy Gibbs spoke once more.

"I've found out who holds the mortgage, Will. Mr. Dow told me."

His hand slid from Hope's hair and hung in the air. During the momentary hush his head, half-turned, seemed to wait in a praying suspense.

"It's Mate Snow," the voice went on. The man covered his face.

"Thank God!" he said. I thought he shivered. "Then it's all—all right," he sighed after a moment. "I was afraid it might be somebody who would—who might make trouble." He took out a handkerchief and touched his forehead with it. "Thank—God!"

"Why do you thank God?" A weariness, like anger, touched her words.

"Why? Why do I thank God?" He faced her, wondering. "Because he has given me a strong man to be my friend and stand behind me. Because Mate Snow, who might have hated me, has—"

"Has sucked the life out of you!" It came out of the corner like a blade. "Yes, yes, he has sucked the life out of you in his hate, and thrown the dry shell of you to me; and that makes him feel good on his hill there. No, no, no; I'm going to say it now. Has he ever tried to find out what was wrong with us? No. He didn't need to. Why? Because no matter what it was, we were given over into his hands, body and soul. And now it's Mate Snow who is the big man of this island, and it's the minister that eats the crumbs that fall from his table, and folks pity you and honor him because he's so good to you, and—"

And this was Urkey village, and night, and Yen Sin was dying.

"And he's down to the Chinaman's now!" I screamed, walking out of my dream. "An' the Chinaman's dyin' an' wants the minister, an' Mate Snow he got there first."

The light went out in the room; I heard a chair knocked over, and then Minister Malden's voice: "God forgive me! God forgive me!"

I ran, sprawling headlong through the shrubs.

Out in the dark of Lovett's Court I found people all about me, the congregation, let out, hobbling and skipping and jostling shoreward, a curious rout. Others were there, not of the church; Kibby Baker, the atheist, who had heard the news through the church window where he peeped at the worshipers; Miah White's brother, the ship-calker, summoned by his sister; a score of others, herding down the dark wind. At the shore street, folks were coming from the Westward. It was strange to see them all and to think it was only a heathen dying.

Or, perhaps, it wasn't so strange, when one remembered Minister Malden coming down the years with that light in his eyes, building his slow edifice, like one in Israel prophesying the coming of the Messiah.

I shall never forget the picture I saw that night from the deck of the Chinaman's scow. The water here in the lee was as smooth as black glass, save for the little ground-swell that rocked the outer end of the craft. The tide was rising; the grounded end would soon be swimming. There were others on the deck with me, and more on the dock overhead, their faces picked out against the sky by the faint irradiations from the lighted shanty beneath. And over and behind it all ran the tumult of the elements; behind it the sea, where it picked up on the Bight out there beyond our eyes; above it the wind, scouring the channels of the crowded roofs and flinging out to meet the waters, like a ravening and disastrous bride.

Mate Snow stood by the counter in the little cabin, his close-cropped head almost to the beams, his voice, dry austere, summoning the Chinaman to repentance. "Verily, if a man be not born again, he shall not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven." His eyes skipped to the door.

"And to be born again," he went on with a hint of haste, "you must confess, Yen Sin, and have faith. That is enough. The outer and inner manifestations—confession and faith."

"Me, Mista Yen Sin—confessee?"

A curious and shocking change had come over the Chinaman in the little time I had been away. He lay quite motionless on his couch, with a bit of silken tapestry behind his head, like a heathen halo protecting him at last. He was more alive than he had been, precisely because the life had gone out of him, and he was no longer bothered with it. His face was a mask, transparent and curiously luminous, and there for the first time I saw the emotion of humor, which is another name for perception.

His unclouded eyes found me by the door and he moved a hand in a vague gesture. I went, walking stiff-legged, awe mingling with self-importance.

"Mista Boy, please," he whispered in my ear. "The collas on the shelf theah. Led paypah—"

Wondering, I took them down and piled them on the couch beside him, one after another, little bundles done up carefully in flaring tissue with black characters inked on them.

"That one!" he whispered, and I undid the one under his finger, discovering half a dozen collars, coiled with their long imprisonment.

"And that one, and that one—"

They covered his legs and rose about his thin shoulders, those treasured soiled collars of his, gleaming under the lamp like the funeral-pyre of some fantastic potentate. Nothing was heard in the room save the faint crackling of the paper, and after a moment Lem Pigeon murmuring in amazement to his neighbor, over in a corner.

"Look a-there, will ye? He's got my collar with the blood spot onto it where the Lisbon woman's husband hit me that time down to New Bedford. What ye make o' that now?"

Yen Sin lifted his eyes to Mate Snow's hanging over him in wonder.

"Mista Matee Snow confessee, yes?"

There was a moment of shocked silence while our great man stared at Yen Sin. He took his weight from the counter and stood up straight.

"I confess my sins to God," he said.

The other moved a fluttering hand over his collars. "Mista Yen Sin allee same like Mista God, yes."

In the hush I heard news of the blasphemy whispering from lip to lip, out the door and up the awe-struck dock. Mate Snow lifted a hand.

"Stop!" he cried. "Yen Sin, you are standing in the Valley of the Shadow of Death—"

"Mista Matee Snow wickee man? No? Yes? Mista Matee Snow confessee?"

The Chinaman was making a game of his death-bed, and even the dullest caught the challenge. Mate Snow understood. The yellow man had asked him with the divine clarity of the last day either to play the game or not to play the game. And Mate Snow wanted something enough to play.

"Yes," he murmured, "I am weak. All flesh is weak." He faltered, and his brow was corded with the labor of memory. It is hard for a good man to summon up sins enough to make a decent confession; nearly always they fall back in the end upon the same worn and respectable category.

"I confess to the sin of pride," he pronounced slowly. "And to good deeds and kind acts undone; to moments of harshness and impatience—"

"Mista Matee Snow confessee?" Yen Sin shook a weary protest at the cheater wasting the precious moments with words. Mate Snow lifted his eyes, and I saw his face whiten and a pearl of sweat form on his forehead. A hush filled the close cave of light, a waiting silence, oppressive and struck with a new expectancy. Little sounds on the dock above became important—young Gilman Pilot's voice, cautioning: "Here, best take my hand on that ladder, Mr. Malden. Last rung's carried away."

It was curious to see Mate Snow's face at that; it was as if one read the moving history of years in it as he leaned over the counter and touched the dying man's breast with a passion strange in him.

"I will tell you how wicked I am, Yen Sin. Three years ago I did Ginny Silva out of seventy dollars wages in the bogs; and if he's here tonight I'll pay him the last cent of it. And—and—" He appealed for mercy to the Chinaman's unshaken eyes. Then, hearing the minister on the deck behind, he cast in the desperate sop of truth. "And—and I have coveted my neighbor's wife!"

It was now that Minister Malden cried from the doorway: "That is nothing, Yen Sin—nothing—when you think of me!"

You may laugh. But just then, in that rocking death-chamber, with the sea and the dark and the wind, no one laughed. Except Yen Sin, perhaps; he may have smiled, though the mask of his features did not move. Minister Malden stepped into the room, and his face was like new ivory.

"Look at me! I have wanted to bring your soul to Christ before I died. That is white, but all the rest of me is black. I have lived a lie; I have broken a law of God; to cover that I have broken another, another—"

His voice hung in the air, filled with a strange horror of itself. The Chinaman fingered his collars. Without our consent or our understanding, he had done the thing which had so shocked us when he said it with his lips; the heathen sat in judgment, weighing the sins of our little world.

"Yes?" he seemed to murmur. "And then?"

The minister's eyes widened; pain lifted him on his toes.

"I am an adulterer," he cried. "And my child is a—a—bastard. Her mother's husband, Joshua Gibbs, didn't go down with his vessel after all. He was alive when I married her. He is alive today, a wanderer. He learned of things and sent me a letter; it found me at the Infield Conference the day before I came home that time to see my baby. Since that day it has seemed to me that I would suffer the eternity of the damned rather than that that stain should mar my child's life, and in the blackness of my heart I have believed that it wouldn't if it weren't known. I have kept him quiet; I have hushed up the truth. I have paid him money, leaving it for him where he wrote me to leave it. I have gone hungry and ragged to satisfy him. I have begged my living of a friend. I have drained the life of the woman I love. And yet he is never content. And I have betrayed even him. For he forbade me to see his wife ever again, or even to know the child I had begotten, and I have gone to them, in secret, by night. I have sinned not alone against God, but against the devil. I have sinned against—everything!"

The fire which had swept him on left him now of a sudden, his arms hung down at his sides, his head drooped. It was Mate Snow who broke the silence, falling back a step, as if he had been struck.

"God forgive me," he said in awe. "And I have kept you here. You! To preach the word of God to these people. God forgive me!"

"I think Mista God laugh, yes."

Yen Sin wasn't laughing himself; he was looking at his collars. Mate Snow shrugged his shoulders fiercely, impatient of the interruption.

"I have kept you here," he pursued bitterly, "for the good of my own soul, which would have liked to drive you away. I have kept you here, even when you wanted to go away—"

"Little mousie want to go away. Little cat say, 'no—no.'" Yen Sin's head turned slowly and he spoke on to the bit of yellow silk, his words clear and powerless as a voice in a dream. "No—no, Mousie, stay with little cat. Good little cat. Like see little mousie jump. Little cat!"

Mate Snow wheeled on him, and I saw a queer sight on his face for an instant; the gray wrinkles of age. My cousin Duncan was there, constable of Urkey village, and he saw it too and came a step out of his corner. It was all over in a wink; Mate Snow lifted his shoulders with a sigh, as much as to say: "You can see how far gone the poor fellow is."

The Chinaman, careless of the little by-play, went on.

"Mista Sam Kow nice China fella. Mista Minista go to Mista Sam Kow in Infield, washy colla. Mista Yen Sin lite a letta to Mista Sam Kow, on Mista Minista colla-band. See? Mista Sam Kow lite a letta back on colla-band. See?"

We saw—that the yellow man was no longer talking at random, but slowly, with his eyes on the collar he held in his hand, like a scholar in his closet, perusing the occult pages of a chronicle.

"Mista Sam Kow say: 'This man go night-time in Chestnut Stleet; pickee out letta undah sidewalk, stickee money-bag undah sidewalk, cly, shivah, makee allee same like sick fella. Walkee all lound town allee night. Allee same like Chlistian dlunk man. No sleepee. That's all—Sam Kow.' Mista Yen Sin keepee colla when Mista Minista come back; give new colla: one, two, five, seven time; Mista Minista say: 'You washy colla fine, Yen Sin: this colla, allee same like new.' Mista Matee Snow, his colla allee same like new, too—"

Something happened so suddenly that none of us knew what was going on. But there was my cousin Duncan standing by the counter, his arm and shoulder still thrust forward with the blow he had given; and there was our great man of the hill flung back against the wall with a haggard grimace set on his face.

"No, you don't!" Duncan growled, his voice shivering a little with excitement. "No, you don't, Mate!"

Mate Snow screamed, and his curse was like the end of the world in Urkey island.

"Curse you! The man's a thief, I tell you. He's stolen my property! I demand my property—those collars there in his hand now. You're constable, you say. Well, I want my—"

He let himself down on the bench, as if the strength had left his knees.

"He's going to tell you lies," he cried. "He's making fools of you all with his—his—Duncan, boy! Don't listen to the black liar. He's going to try and make out 'twas me put the letter under the walk in Chestnut Street, up there to Infield; that it was me, all these years, that went back and got out money he put there. Me! Mate Snow. Duncan, boy; he's going to tell you a low, black-hearted lie!"

"How do you know?" That was all my cousin Duncan said.

To the dying man, nothing made much difference. It was as if he had only paused to gather his failing breath, and when he spoke his tone was the same, detached, dispassionate, with a ghost of humor running through it.

"How many times?" He counted the collars with a finger tip. "One two, tlee, six, seven time. Seven yeahs. Too bad. Any time Mista Minista wantee confessee, Mista God makee allee light. Mista Yen Sin allee same like Mista God. Wait. Wait. Wait. Laugh. Cly inside!"

Mate Snow was leaning forward on the bench in a queer, lazy attitude, his face buried in his hands and his elbows propped on his knees. But no one looked at him, for Minister Malden was speaking in the voice of one risen from the dead, his eyes blinking at the Chinaman's lamp.

"Then you mean—you mean that he—isn't alive? After all? That he wasn't alive—then? You mean it was all a—a kind of a—joke? I—I—Oh, Mate! Mate Snow!"

It was queer to see him turning with his news to his traditional protector. It had been too sudden; his brain had been so taken up with the naked miracle that Gibbs was not alive that all the rest of it, the drawn-out and devious revenge of the druggist, had somehow failed to get into him as yet.

"Mate Snow!" he cried, running over to the sagging figure. "Did you hear, Mate? Eh? It isn't true! It was all a—a joke, Mate!" He shook Snow's shoulder with a pleading ecstasy. "It's been a mistake, Mate, and I am—she is—little Hope is—"

He fell back a step, letting the man lop over suddenly on his doubled knees, and stared blankly at a tiny drug-phial, uncorked and empty, rolling away across the floor. He passed a slow hand across his eyes. "Why—why—I—I'm afraid Mate is—isn't very—well."

Urkey had held its tongue too long. Now it was that the dam gave way and the torrent came whirling down and a hundred voices were lifted. Crowds and shadows distracted the light. One cried. "The man's dead, you fools; can't you see?" A dozen took it up and it ran out and away along the rumbling dock. "Doctor!" another bawled. "He's drank poison! Where's the doctor at?" And that, too, went out, and a faint shout answered from somewhere shoreward that the doctor was out at Si Pilot's place and Miah White was after him, astraddle of the tar-wagon horse. Through it all I can remember Aunt Nickerson's wail continuing, undaunted and unquenchable, "God save our souls! God save our souls!"

And then, following the instinct of the frightened pack, they were all gone of a sudden, carrying the dead man to meet the doctor. I would have gone, too, and I had gotten as far as the door at their heels, when I paused to look back at the Chinaman.

He lay so still over there on the couch—the thought came to me that he, too, was dead. And of a sudden, leaning there on the door-frame, the phantom years trooped back to me, and I saw the man for the first time moving through them—a lone, far outpost of the thing he knew, one yellow man against ten thousand whites, unshaken, unappalled, facing the odds, working so early, so late, day after day and year after year, and smiling a little, perhaps, as he peeped behind the scenes of the thing which we call civilization. Yes, cry as he might inside, he must have smiled outside, sometimes, through those years of terror, at the sight of Minister Malden shrinking at the shadow of the ghost of something that was nothing, to vanish at a touch of light.

And now his foreign service was ended; his post was to be relieved; and he could go wherever he wanted to go.

Not quite yet. He had been dreaming, that was all. His eyes opened, and rested, not on me, but to the right of me. Then I saw for the first time that I wasn't alone in the room with him after all, but that Minister Malden was standing there, where he had stood through all the din like a little boy struck dumb before a sudden Christmas tree.

And like a little boy, he went red and white and began to stammer.

"I—I—Yen Sin—" He held his breath a moment. Then it came out all together. "I'll run and fetch them—both!" With that he was past me, out of the door and up the ladder, and I heard his light feet drumming on the dock, bearing such news as never was.

The Chinaman's eyes had come to me now, and there was a queer light in them that I couldn't understand. An adventure beyond my little comprehension was taking shape behind them, and all I knew enough to do was to sneak around behind the counter and take hold of one of his fingers and shake it up and down, like one man taking a day's leave of another. His eyes thanked me for my violence; then they were back again to their mysterious speculations. An overweening excitement gathered in them. He frightened me. Quite abruptly, as if an unexpected reservoir of energy had been tapped, the dying man lifted on an elbow and slid one leg over the edge of the couch. Then he glanced at me with an air almost furtive.

"Boy," he whispered. "Run quick gettee Mista Minista, yes."

"But he's coming himself," I protested. "You better lay back."

"Mista Yen Sin askee please! Please, boy."

What was there for me to do? I ran. Once on the dock above, misgivings assailed me. I was too young, and the night was too appalling. I had forgotten the wind, down in the cabin, but in the open here I felt its weight. It grew all the while; its voice drowned the world now, and there was spindrift through it, picked from the back shore of the island and flung all the way across. Objects were lost in it; ghostly things, shore lights, fish-houses, piers, strained seaward. I heard the packet's singing masts at the next wharf, but I saw no packet. The ponderous scow below me became a thing of life and light, an eager bird fluttering at its bonds and calling to the wide spaces. To my bewildered eyes it seemed to move—it was moving, shaking off the heavy hands of bondage, joining itself with the wind. I got down on my knees of a sudden and peered at the deck.

"Yen Sin!" I screamed. "What you doin' out there?"

I saw him dimly in the open air outside his door, fumbling and fumbling at something. This was his great adventure, the thing that had gleamed in his eyes and had tapped that unguessed reservoir of strength. His voice crept back to me, harassed by the wind,

"This velly funny countly, Mista Boy. Mista Yen Sin go back China way."

His bow-line was fast to an iron ring on the wharf. I wanted to hold him back, and I clutched at the rope with my hands as if my little strength were something against that freed thing. The line came up to me easily, cast off from the scow at the other end.

He was waning. His window and door and the little fan-light before the door were all I could see now, and even that pattern blurred and became uncertain and ghostly on the mat of the night. He was clear of the wharves now, and the wind had him—sailing China way—so peaceful, so dreamless, surrounded by his tell-tale cargo of Urkey's unwashed collars.

I don't know how long it was I crouched there on the timbers, staring out into the havoc of that black night, and listening to the hungry clamor of the Bight. I must have been crying for the minister, over and over, without knowing it, for when my cousin Duncan's hand fell on my shoulder and I started up half out of my wits, he pointed a finger toward the outer edge of the wharf.

And there they were in a little close group, Sympathy Gibbs standing straight with the child in her arms, and Minister Malden down on his knees. There were many people on the pier, all with their eyes to sea, all except Sympathy Gibbs; hers were up-shore, where Mate Snow lay in state on his own counter, all his sweet revenge behind him and gone.

I thought little Hope was asleep in the swathing shawl, till I saw the dark round spots of her eyes. If it was a strange night for the others, it was stranger still to her.

The wind and the rain beat on Minister Malden's bended back. He loved it that way. The missionary was praying for the soul of the heathen.

---

NONE SO BLIND[21]

By MARY SYNON

From Harper's Magazine.

We were listening to Leila Burton's music—her husband, and Dick Allport, and I—with the throb of London beating under us like the surge of an ocean in anger, when there rose above the smooth harmonies of the piano and the pulsing roar of the night a sound more poignant than them both, the quavering melody of a street girl's song.

Through the purpling twilight of that St. John's Eve I had been drifting in dreams while Leila had gone from golden splendors of chords which reflected the glow on westward-fronting windows into somber symphonies which had seemed to make vocal the turbulent soul of the city—for Dick Allport and I were topping the structure of that house of life that was to shelter the love we had long been cherishing. With Leila playing in that art which had dowered her with fame, I was visioning the glory of such love as she and Standish Burton gave each other while I watched Dick, sensing rather than seeing the dearness of him as he gave to the mounting climaxes the tense interest he always tendered to Leila's music.

I had known, before I came to love Dick Allport, other loves and other lovers. Because I had followed will-o'-the-wisps of fancy through marshes of sentiment I could appreciate the more the truth of that flame which he and I had lighted for our guidance on the road. A moody boy he had been when I first met him, full of a boy's high chivalry and of a boy's dark despairs. A moody man he had become in the years that had denied him the material success toward which he had striven; but something in the patience of his efforts, something in the fineness of his struggle had endeared him to me as no triumph could have done. Because he needed me, because I had come to believe that I meant to him belief in the ultimate good of living, as well as belief in womanhood, I cherished in my soul that love of him which yearned over him even as it longed for him.

Watching him in the dusk while he lounged in that concentrated quiet of attention, I went on piling the bricks of that wide house of happiness we should enter together; and, although I could see him but dimly, so well did I know every line of his face that I could fancy the little smile that quivered around his lips and that shone from the depths of his eyes as Leila played the measures we both loved. I must have been smiling in answer when the song of the girl outside rose high.

Not until that alien sound struck athwart the power and beauty of the spell did I come to know how high I had builded my castles; but the knocking at the gate toppled down the dreams as Leila swept a discord over the keyboard and crossed to the open window.

In the dusk, as she flung back the heavy curtains, I could see the bulk of Brompton Oratory set behind the houses like the looming back-drop of a painted scene. Nearer, in front of a tall house across the way, stood the singer, a thin girl whose shadowy presence seemed animated by a curious bravery. In a nasal, plaintive voice she was singing the words of a ballad of love and of loving that London, as only London can, had made curiously its own that season. The insistence of her plea—for she sang as if she cried out her life's longing, sang as if she called on the passing crowd not for alms, but for understanding—made her for the moment, before she faded back into oblivion, an artist, voicing the heartache and the heartbreak of womankind; and the artist in Leila Burton responded to the thrill.

Until the ending of the song she stood silent in front of the window, unconscious of the fact that she, and not the scene beyond her, held the center of the stage. Not for her beauty, although at times Leila Burton gave the impression of being exquisitely lovely, was she remarkable, but rather for that receptive attitude that made her an inspired listener. In me, who had known her for but a little while, she awakened my deepest and drowsiest ambition, the desire to express in pictures the light and the shade of the London I knew. With her I could feel the power, and the glory, and the fear, and the terror of the city as I never did at other times. It was not alone that she was all things to all men; it was that she led men and women who knew her to the summits of their aspirations.

Even Standish Burton, big, sullen man that he was, immersed in his engineering problems, responded to his wife's spiritual charm with a readiness that always aroused in Dick and myself an admiration for him that our other knowledge of him did not justify. He was, aside from his relationship to Leila, a man whose hardness suggested a bitter knowledge of dark ways of life. Now, crouched down in the depths of his chair, he kept watching Leila with a gaze of smouldering adoration, revealing that love for her which had been strong enough to break down those barriers which she had erected in the years while he had worked for her in Jacob's bondage. In her he seemed to be discovering, all over again, the vestal to tend the fires of his faith.

Dick Allport, too, bending forward over the table on which his hands fell clenched, was studying Leila with an inscrutable stare that seemed to be of query. I was wondering what it meant, wondering the more because my failure to understand its meaning hung another veil between my vision and my shrine of belief in the fullness of love, when the song outside came to an end and Leila turned back to us.

Her look, winging its way to Standish, lighted her face even beyond the glow from the lamps which she switched on. For an instant his heavy countenance flared into brightness. Dick Allport sighed almost imperceptibly as he turned to me. I had a feeling that such a fire as the Burtons kindled for each other should have sprung up in the moment between Dick and me, for we had fought and labored and struggled for our love as Standish and Leila had never needed to battle. Because of our constancy I expected something better than the serene affectionateness that shone in Dick's smile. I wanted such stormy passion of devotion as Burton gave to Leila, such love as I, remembering a night of years ago, knew that Dick could give. It was the old desire of earth, spoken in the street girl's song, that surged in me until I could have cried out in my longing for the soul of the sacrament whose substance I had been given; but the knowledge that we were, the four of us, conventional people in a conventional setting locked my heart as it locked my lips until I could mirror the ease with which Leila bore herself.

"I have been thinking," she said, lightly, "that I should like to be a street singer for a night. If only a piano were not so cumbersome, I should go out and play into the ears of the city the thing that girl put into her song."

"Why not?" I asked her, "It would be an adventure, and life has too few adventures."

"It might have too many," Dick said.

"Not for Leila," Standish declared. "Life's for her a quest of joy."

"That's it," Dick interposed. "Her adventures have all been joyous."

"But they haven't," Leila insisted. "I'm no spoiled darling of the gods. I've been poor, poor as that girl out there. I've had heartaches, and disappointments, and misfortunes."

"Not vital ones," Dick declared. "You've never had a knock-out blow."

"She doesn't know what one is," Standish laughed, but there sounded a ruefulness in his laughter that told of the kind of blow he must once have suffered to bring that note in his voice. Standish Burton took life lightly, except where Leila was concerned. His manner now indicated, almost mysteriously, that something threatened his harbor of peace, but the regard Leila gave to him proved that the threat of impending danger had not come to her.

"Oh, but I do know," she persisted.

"Vicariously," I suggested. "All artists do."

"No, actually," she said.

"You're wrong," said Standish. "You're the sort of woman whom the world saves from its own cruelties."

There was something so essentially true in his appraisal of his wife that the certainty covered the banality of his statement and kept Dick and myself in agreement with him. Leila Burton, exquisitely remote from all things commonplace, was unquestionably a woman to be protected. Without envy—since my own way had its compensations in full measure—I admitted it.

"I think that you must have forgotten, if you ever knew," she said, "how I struggled here in London for the little recognition I have won."

"Oh, that!" Dick Allport deprecated. "That isn't what Stan means. Every one in the world worth talking about goes through that sort of struggle. He means the flinging down from a high mountain after you've seen the glories, not of this world, but of another, the casting out from paradise after you've learned what paradise may mean. He spoke with an odd timbre of emotion in his voice, a quality that puzzled me for the moment.

"That's it," said Standish, gratefully. "Those are the knock-out blows."

"Well, then, I don't know them"—Leila admitted her defeat—"and I hope that I shall not."

Softly she began to play the music of an accompaniment. There was a familiar hauntingness in its strains that puzzled me until I associated them with the song that Burton used to whistle so often in the times when Leila was in Paris and he had turned for companionship to Dick and to me.

"I've heard Stan murder that often enough to be able to try it myself," I told her.

"I didn't know he knew it," she said. "I heard it for the first time the other day. A girl—I didn't hear her name—sang it for an encore at the concert of the Musicians' Club. She sang it well, too. She was a queer girl," Leila laughed, "a little bit of a thing, with all the air of a tragedy queen. And you should have heard how she sang that! You know the words?"—she asked me over her shoulder:

"And because I, too, am a lover,
And my love is far from me,
I hated the two on the sands there,
And the moon, and the sands, and the sea."

"And the moon, and the sands, and the sea," Dick repeated. He rose, going to the window where Leila had stood, and looking outward. When he faced us again he must have seen the worry in my eyes, for he smiled at me with the old, endearing fondness and touched my hair lightly as he passed.

"What was she like—the girl?" Standish asked, lighting another cigarette.

"Oh, just ordinary and rather pretty. Big brown eyes that seemed to be forever asking a question that no one could answer, and a little pointed chin that she flung up when she sang." Dick Allport looked quickly across at Burton, but Stan gave him no answering glance. He was staring at Leila as she went on: "I don't believe I should have noticed her at all if she hadn't come to me as I was leaving the hall. 'Are you Mrs. Standish Burton?' she asked me. When I told her that I was, she stared me full in the face, then walked off without another word. I wish that I could describe to you, though, the scorn and contempt that blazed in her eyes. If I had been a singer who had robbed her of her chance at Covent Garden, I could have understood. But I'd never seen her before, and my singing wouldn't rouse the envy of a crow!" She laughed light-heartedly over the recollection, then her face clouded. "Do you know," she mused, "that I thought just now, when the girl was singing on the street, that I should like to know that other girl? There was something about her that I can't forget. She was the sort that tries, and fails, and sinks. Some day, I'm afraid, she'll be singing on the streets, and, if I ever hear her, I shall have a terrible thought that I might have saved her from it, if only I had tried!"

"Better let her sort alone," Burton said, shortly. He struck a match and relit his cigarette with a gesture of savage annoyance. Leila looked at him in amazement, and Dick gave him a glance that seemed to counsel silence. There was a hostility about the mood into which Standish relapsed that seemed to bring in upon us some of the urgent sorrows of the city outside, as if he had drawn aside a curtain to show us a world alien to the place of beauty and of the making of beauty through which Leila moved. Even she must have felt the import of his mood, for she let her hands fall on the keys while Dick and I stared at each other before the shock of this crackle that seemed to threaten the perfection of their happiness.

From Brompton came the boom of the bell for evensong. Down Piccadilly ran the roar of the night traffic, wending a blithesome way to places of pleasure. It was the hour when London was wont to awaken to the thrill of its greatness, its power, its vastness, its strength, and its glory, and to send down luminous lanes its carnival crowd of men and women. It was the time when weltering misery shrank shrouded into merciful gloom; when the East End lay far from our hearts; when poverty and sin and shame went skulking into byways where we need never follow; when painted women held back in the shadows; when the pall of night rested like a velvet carpet over the spaces of that floor that, by daylight, gave glimpses into loathsome cellars of humanity. It was, as it had been so often of late, an hour of serene beauty, that first hour of darkness in a June night with the season coming to an end, an hour of dusk to be remembered in exile or in age.

There should have come to us then the strains of an orchestra floating in with the fragrance of gardenias from a vendor's basket, symbols of life's call to us, luring us out beneath stars of joy. But, instead, the bell of Brompton pealed out warningly over our souls, and, when its clanging died, there drifted in the sound of a preaching voice.

Only phrases clattering across the darkness were the words from beyond—resonant through the open windows: "The Cross is always ready, and everywhere awaiteth thee.... Turn thyself upward, or turn thyself downward; turn thyself inward, or turn thyself outward; everywhere thou shalt find the Cross;... if thou fling away one Cross thou wilt find another, and perhaps a heavier."

Like sibylline prophecy the voice of the unseen preacher struck down on us. We moved uneasily, the four of us, as he cried out challenge to the passing world before his voice went down before the surge of a hymn. Then, just as the gay whirl of cars and omnibuses beat once more upon the pavements, and London swung joyously into our hearts again, the bell of the telephone in the hall rang out with a quivering jangle that brought Leila to her feet even as Standish jumped to answer its summons.

She stood beside the piano as he gave answer to the call, watching him as if she expected evil news. Dick, who had moved back into the shadow from a lamp on the table, was staring with that same searching gaze he had bestowed on her when she had lingered beside the window. I was looking at him, when a queer cry from Standish whirled me around.

In the dim light of the hall he was standing with the instrument in his hands, clutching it with the stupidity of a man who has been struck by an unexpected and unexplainable missile. His face had gone to a grayish white, and his hands trembled as he set the receiver on the hook. His eyes were bulging from emotion and he kept wetting his lips as he stood in the doorway.

"What is it?" Leila cried. "What's happened, Stan? Can't you tell me? What is it?"

Not to her, but to Dick Allport, he made answer. "Bessie Lowe is dead!"

I saw Dick Allport's thunderstruck surprise before he arose. I saw his glance go from Standish to Leila with a questioning that overrode all other possible emotion in him. Then I saw him look at Burton as if he doubted his sanity. His voice, level as ever, rang sharply across the other man's distraction.

"When did she die?" he asked him.

"Just now." He ran his hand over his hair, gazing at Dick as if Leila and I were not there. "She—she killed herself down in the Hotel Meynard."

"Why?" Leila's voice, hard with terror, snapped off the word.

"She—she—I don't know." He stared at his wife as if he had just become conscious of her presence. The grayness in his face deepened, and his lips grew livid. Like a man condemned to death, he stared at the world he was losing.

"Who is Bessie Lowe?" Leila questioned. "And why have they called you to tell of her?" Her eyes blazed with a fire that seemed about to singe pretense from his soul.

His hand went to his throat, and I saw Leila whiten. Her hand, resting on the piano, trembled, but her face held immobile, although I knew that all the happiness of the rest of her life hung upon his answer. On what Standish Burton would tell her depended the years to come. In that moment I knew that she loved him even as I loved Dick, even as women have always loved and will always love the men whom fate had marked for their caring; and in a sudden flash of vision I knew, too, that Burton, no matter what Bessie Lowe or any other girl had ever been to him, worshiped his wife with an intensity of devotion that would make all his days one long reparation for whatever wrong he might have done her. I knew, though, that, if he had done the wrong, she would never again be able to give him the eager love he desired, and I, too, an unwilling spectator, waited on his words for his future, and Leila's; but his voice did not make answer. It was Dick Allport who spoke.

"Bessie Lowe is a girl I used to care for," he said. "She is the girl who sang at the Musicians' Club, the girl who spoke to you. She heard that I was going to be married. She wanted me to come back to her. I refused."

He was standing in the shadow, looking neither at Leila nor at me, but at Standish Burton. Burton turned to him.

"Yes," he muttered thickly, "they told me to tell you. They knew you'd be here."

"I see," said Leila. She looked at Standish and then at Dick Allport, and there came into her eyes a queer, glazed stare that filmed their brightness. "I am sorry that I asked questions, Mr. Allport, about something that was nothing to me. Will you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to be forgiven," he said. He turned to her and smiled a little. She tried to answer his smile, but a gasp came from her instead.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, "so sorry for her!"

It was Standish's gaze that brought to me sudden realization that I, too, had a part in the drama. Until I found his steady stare on me I had felt apart from the play that he and Dick and Leila were going through, but with his urgent glare I awoke into knowledge that the message he had taken for Dick held for me the same significance that Leila had thought it bore for her. Like a stab from a knife came the thought that this girl—whoever she was—had, in her dying, done what she had not done in life, taken Dick Allport from me. There went over me numbing waves of a great sense of loss, bearing me out on an ocean of oblivion. Against these I fought desperately to hold myself somewhere near the shore of sensibility. As if I were beholding him from a great distance, I could see Dick standing in the lamplight in front of Leila Burton. Understanding of how dear he was to me, of how vitally part of me he had grown in the years through which I had loved him—sometimes lightly, sometimes stormily, but always faithfully—beaconed me inshore; and the plank of faith in him, faith that held in itself something of forgiving charity, floated out to succor my drowning soul. I moved across the room while Standish Burton kept his unwinking gaze upon me, and Leila never looked up from the piano. I had come beside Dick before he heard me.

He looked at me as if he had only just then remembered that I was there. Into his eyes flashed a look of poignant remorse. He shrank back from me a little as I touched his hand, and I turned to Leila, who had not stirred from the place where she had listened to Standish's cry when he took the fateful message. "We are going," I said, "to do what we can—for her."

She moved then to look at me, and I saw that her eyes held not the compassion I had feared, but a strange speculativeness, as if she questioned what I knew rather than what I felt. Their contemplating quiet somehow disturbed me more than had her husband's flashlight scrutiny, and with eyes suddenly blinded and throat drawn tight with terror I took my way beside Dick Allport out from the soft lights of the Burtons' house into the darkness of the night.

Outside we paused a moment, waiting for a cab. For the first time since he had told Leila of Bessie Lowe, Dick spoke to me. "I think," he said, "that it would be just as well if you didn't come."

"I must," I told him, "It isn't curiosity. You understand that, don't you? It is simply that this is the time for me to stand by you, if ever I shall do it, Dick."

"I don't deserve it." There was a break in his voice. "But I shall try to, my dear. I can't promise you much, but I can promise you that."

Down the brightness of Piccadilly into the fuller glow of Regent Street we rode without speech. Somewhere below the Circus we turned aside and went through dim cañons of houses that opened a way past the Museum and let us into Bloomsbury. There in a wilderness of cheap hotels and lodging-houses we found the Meynard.

A gas lamp was flaring in the hall when the porter admitted us. At a desk set under the stairway a pale-faced clerk awaited us with staring insolence that shifted to annoyance when Dick asked him if we might go to Bessie Lowe's room. "No," he said, abruptly. "The officers won't let any one in there. They've taken her to the undertaker's."

He gave us the location of the place with a scorn that sent us out in haste. I, at least, felt a sense of relief that I did not have to go up to the place where this unknown girl had thrown away the greatest gift. As we walked through the poorly lighted streets toward the Tottenham Court Road I felt for the first time a surge of that emotion that Leila Burton had voiced, a pity for the dead girl. And yet, stealing a look at Dick as he walked onward quietly, sadly, but with a dignity that lifted him above the sordidness of the circumstances, I felt that I could not blame him as I should. It was London, I thought, and life that had tightened the rope on the girl.

Strangely I felt a lightness of relief in the realization that the catastrophe having come, was not really as terrible as it had seemed back there in Leila's room. It was an old story that many women had conned, and since, after all, Dick Allport was yet young, and my own, I condoned the sin for the sake of the sinner; and yet, even as I held the thought close to my aching heart, I felt that I was somehow letting slip from my shoulders the cross that had been laid upon them, the cross that I should have borne, the burden of shame and sorrow for the wrong that the man I loved had done to the girl who had died for love of him.

The place where she lay, a gruesome establishment set in behind that highway of reeking cheapness, the Tottenham Court Road, was very quiet when we entered. A black-garbed man came to meet us from a room in which we saw two tall candles burning. Dick spoke to him sharply, asking if any one had come to look after the dead girl.

"No one with authority," the man whined—"just a girl as lived with her off and on."

He stood, rubbing his hands together as Dick went into hurried details with him, and I went past them into the room where the candles burned. For an instant, as I stood at the door, I had the desire to run away from it all, but I pulled myself together and went over to the place where lay the girl they had called Bessie Lowe.

I had drawn back the sheet and was standing looking down at the white face when I heard a sob in the room. I replaced the covering and turned to see in the corner the shadowy form of a woman whose eyes blazed at me out of the dark. While I hesitated, wondering if this were the girl who had lived occasionally with Bessie Lowe, she came closer, staring at me with scornful hate. Miserably thin, wretchedly nervous as she was, she had donned for the nonce a mantle of dignity that she seemed to be trailing as she approached, glaring at me with furious resentment. "So you thought as how you'd come here," she demanded of me, her crimsoned face close to my own, "to see what she was like, to see what sort of a girl had him before you took him away from her? Well, I'll tell you something, and you can forget it or remember it, as you like. Bessie Lowe was a good girl until she ran into him, and she'd have stayed good, I tell you, if he'd let her alone. She was a fool, though, and she thought that he'd marry her some day—and all the time he was only waiting until you'd take him! You never think of our kind, do you, when you're living out your lives, wondering if you care enough to marry the men who're worshipping you while they're playing with us? Well, perhaps it won't be anything to you, but, all the same, there's some kind of a God, and if He's just He'll punish you when He punishes Standish Burton!"

"But I—" I gasped. "Did you think that I—?"

"Aren't you his wife?" She came near to me, peering at me in the flickering candle-light. "Aren't you Standish Burton's wife?"

"No," I said.

"Oh, well"—she shrugged—"you're her sort, and it'll come to the same thing in the end."

She slouched back to the corner, all anger gone from her. Outside I heard Dick's voice, low, decisive. Swiftly I followed the girl. "You must tell me," I pleaded with her, "if she did it because of Standish Burton."

"I thought everybody knew that," she said, "even his wife. What's it to you, if you're not that?"

"Nothing," I replied, but I knew, as I stood where she kept vigil with Bessie Lowe, that I lied. For I saw the truth in a lightning-flash; and I knew, as I had not known when Dick perjured himself in Leila's music-room, that I had come to the place of ultimate understanding, for I realized that not a dead girl, but a living woman, had come between us. Not Bessie Lowe, but Leila Burton, lifted the sword at the gateway of my paradise.

With the poignancy of a poisoned arrow reality came to me. Because Dick had loved Leila Burton he had laid his bond with me on the altar of his chivalry. For her sake he had sacrificed me to the hurt to which Standish would not sacrifice her. And the joke of it—the pity of it was that she hadn't believed them! But because she was Burton's wife, because it was too late for facing of the truth, she had pretended to believe Dick; and she had known, she must have known, that he had lied to her because he loved her.

The humiliation of that knowledge beat down on me, battering me with such blows as I had not felt in my belief that Dick had not been true to me in his affair with this poor girl. Her rivalry, living or dead, I could have endured and overcome—for no Bessie Lowe could ever have won from Dick, as she could never have given to him, that thing which was mine. But against Leila Burton I could not stand, for she was of my world, of my own people, and the crown a man would give to her was the one he must take from me.

There in that shabby place I buried my idols. Not I, but a power beyond me, held the stone on which was written commandment for me. By the light of the candles above Bessie Lowe I knew that I should not marry Dick Allport.

I found him waiting for me at the doorway. I think that he knew then that the light of our guiding lantern had flickered out, but he said nothing. We crossed the garishly bright road and went in silence through quiet streets. Like children afraid of the dark we went through the strange ways of the city, two lonely stragglers from the procession of love, who, with our own dreams ended, saw clearer the world's wild pursuit of the fleeing vision.

We had wandered back into our own land when, in front of the darkened Oratory and almost under the shadow of Leila Burton's home, there came to us through the soft darkness the ominous plea that heralds summer into town. Out of the shadows an old woman, bent and shriveled, leaned toward us. "Get yer lavender tonight," she pleaded. "'Tis the first of the crop, m'lidy."

"That means—" Dick Allport began as I paused to buy.

I fastened the sprigs at my belt, then looked up at the distant stars, since I could not yet bear to look at him. "It means the end of the season," I said, "when the lavender comes to London."

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THE YEARBOOK OF THE AMERICAN SHORT STORY FOR 1917

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ADDRESSES OF AMERICAN MAGAZINES PUBLISHING SHORT STORIES

Note. This address list does not aim to be complete, but is based simply on the magazines which I have considered for this volume.

Ainslee's Magazine, 79 Seventh Avenue, New York City.
All-Story Weekly, 8 West 40th Street, New York City.
American Magazine, 381 Fourth Avenue, New York City.
Art World, 2 West 45th Street, New York City.
Atlantic Monthly, 3 Park Street, Boston, Mass.
Bellman, 118 South 6th Street, Minneapolis, Minn.
Black Cat, Salem, Mass.
Bookman, 443 Fourth Avenue, New York City.
Boston Evening Transcript, 324 Washington Street, Boston, Mass.
Century Magazine, 353 Fourth Avenue, New York City.
Collier's Weekly, 416 West 13th Street, New York City.
Cosmopolitan Magazine, 119 West 40th Street, New York City.
Delineator, Spring and Macdougal Streets, New York City.
Detective Story Magazine, 79 Seventh Avenue, New York City.
Everybody's Magazine, Spring and Macdougal Streets, New York City.
Every Week, 381 Fourth Avenue, New York City.
Forum, 286 Fifth Avenue, New York City.
Good Housekeeping, 119 West 40th Street, New York City.
Harper's Bazar, 119 West 40th Street, New York City.
Harper's Magazine, Franklin Square, New York City.
Hearst's Magazine, 119 West 40th Street, New York City.
Illustrated Sunday Magazine, 193 Main Street, Buffalo, N. Y.
Ladies' Home Journal, Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pa.
Live Stories, 35 West 39th Street, New York City.
McCall's Magazine, 236 West 37th Street, New York City.
McClure's Magazine, 251 Fourth Avenue, New York City.
Metropolitan Magazine, 432 Fourth Avenue, New York City.
Midland, Moorhead, Minn.
Milestones, Akron, Ohio.
Munsey's Magazine, 8 West 40th Street, New York City.
Outlook, 381 Fourth Avenue, New York City.
Pagan, 174 Centre Street, New York City.
Parisienne, Printing Crafts Building, 461 Eighth Avenue, New York City.
Pearson's Magazine, 34 Union Square, New York City.
Pictorial Review, 216 West 39th Street, New York City.
Queen's Work, 3200 Russell Avenue, St. Louis, Mo.
Reedy's Mirror, Syndicate Trust Building, St. Louis, Mo.
Saturday Evening Post, Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pa.
Scribner's Magazine, 597 Fifth Avenue, New York City.
Short Stories, Garden City, Long Island, N. Y.
Smart Set, Printing Crafts Building, New York City.
Snappy Stories, 35 West 39th Street, New York City.
Southern Woman's Magazine, American Building, Nashville, Tenn.
Stratford Journal, 32 Oliver Street, Boston, Mass.
Sunset Magazine, 460 Fourth Street, San Francisco, Cal.
To-day's Housewife, 461 Fourth Avenue, New York City.
Top-Notch Magazine, 79 Seventh Avenue, New York City.
Touchstone, 118 East 30th Street, New York City.
Woman's Home Companion, 381 Fourth Avenue, New York City.
Woman's World, 107 So. Clinton Street, Chicago, Ill.
Youth's Companion, St. Paul Street, Boston, Mass.

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THE BIOGRAPHICAL ROLL OF HONOR OF AMERICAN SHORT STORIES FOR 1917

Note. Only stories by American authors are listed. The best sixty-three stories are indicated by an asterisk before the title of the story. The index figures 1, 2, and 3 prefixed to the name of the author indicate that his work has been included in the Rolls of Honor for 1914, 1915, and 1916 respectively.

"Amid, John." (M. M. Stearns.) Born at West Hartford, Conn., 1884. Lived in New England at Hartford, South Dartmouth, Mass., and Randolph, N. H., until 1903, with the exception of two years abroad. Threatened with blindness when fifteen years old, and gave up school work, but later resumed studies, graduating from Stanford University, 1906. Has been active in newspaper work in Los Angeles. Has since developed water, broken horses, and set out lemon trees. Married. Three children. Good mechanic. Musical. Fond of boating and chess. Authority on turkey raising. At present associate scenario editor of the American Film Company, Santa Barbara, Cal.

Professor, A.

(3) Anderson, Sherwood. Born in Camden, Ohio. Primary school education. Newsboy until he became strong enough to work; then a day laborer. With American army in Cuban campaign. Studied for a few months at college, Springfield, Ohio. Now an advertising writer. Author of "Windy McPherson's Son" and "Marching Men." Has three novels, three books of short stories, and book of songs unpublished. First short story published, "The Rabbit-pen," Harper's Magazine, July, 1914. Lives in Chicago.

"Mother."
Thinker, The.
Untold Lie, The.

(3) Andrews, Mary Raymond Shipman. Born at Mobile, Ala. While still a baby, moved with her parents to Lexington, Ky., where she lived until about 1880. Married W. S. Andrews, 1884, now Justice Supreme Court of New York. Chief interests: horseback riding, shooting, and fishing. Author of "The Marshal," "The Enchanted Forest," "The Three Things," "The Good Samaritan," "The Perfect Tribute," "Bob and the Guides," "The Militants," "The Eternal Feminine," "The Eternal Masculine," "The Courage of the Commonplace," "The Lifted Bandage," "Counsel Assigned," "Better Treasure," and "Old Glory." First short story, "Crowned with Glory and Honor," Scribner's Magazine, February, 1902. Resides in Syracuse, N. Y.

Blood Brothers.
Return of K. of K., The.

(3) Babcock, Edwina Stanton. Born at Nyack, N. Y. One of eleven children. Academic experience up to age of twenty-three, one year in private school. Attended extension classes in English, Teachers' College, Columbia University. Author "Greek Wayfarers," a volume of verse. First short story, "The Diary of a Cat," Harper's Magazine, August, 1904. Her deepest enthusiasms are children, the mountains of Greece, the French Theatre, and the Irish imagination. She lives at Nyack, N. Y., and Nantucket, Mass.

*Excursion, The.

Barnard, Floy Tolbert. Born in Hunter, Ohio, 1879. High school education in Perry, Iowa. Married Dr. Leslie O. Barnard, 1902. Went West, 1905. Descendant of Rouget de Lisle, author of the "Marseillaise," through her mother. Her great-grandfather dropped the "de" to please a Quaker girl, who would not otherwise marry him, so opposed was she to the French, and to a name so associated with war. Her first story, "—Nor the Smell of Fire," appeared in Young's Magazine February, 1915. Lives in Seattle, Wash.

Surprise in Perspective, A.

Beer, Thomas. Born in 1889, Council Bluffs, Iowa. Educated at MacKenzie School, Dobbs Ferry, N. Y., Yale College (1911), Columbia Law School. Now in National army. First story, "The Brothers," Century, February, 1917. Chief interest: the theatre. Lives at Yonkers, N. Y.

*Brothers, The.
*Onnie.

(3) Bottome, Phyllis. Born of American parents. Now resident in England. Author of "The Derelict," "The Second Fiddle," and "The Dark Tower."

*Ironstone.

"Breck, John." (Elizabeth C. A. Smith.) Lives in Grosse Isle, Mich.

*From Hungary.

(3) Brooks, Alden. Author of "The Fighting Men." Lives in Paris. Now in the American army in France.

Three Slavs, The.

(23) Brown, Alice. Born at Hampton Falls, N. H., 1857. Graduated from Robinson Seminary, Exeter, N. H., 1876. Author "Fools of Nature," "Meadow-Grass," "The Road to Castaly," "The Day of His Youth," "Tiverton Tales," "King's End," "Margaret Warrener," "The Mannerings," "High Noon," "Paradise," "The County Road," "The Court of Love," "Rose MacLeod," "The Story of Thyrza," "Country Neighbors," "John Winterbourne's Family," "The One-Footed Fairy," "The Secret of the Clan," "Vanishing Points," "Robin Hood's Barn," "My Love and I," "Children of Earth," "The Prisoner," "Bromley Neighbourhood," and other books. Lives in Boston.

*Flying Teuton, The.
Nemesis.

(1) Burt, Maxwell Struthers. Born in Philadelphia, 1882. Educated at Princeton, 1904, and at Merton College, Oxford. Author of "In the High Hills." Instructor of English at Princeton for two years. Then went West, settling in Jackson Hole, Wyo., where he is senior partner of a cattle ranch. He is now in the Signal Corps, Aviation Section, U. S. Army. First story, "The Water-Hole," Scribner's Magazine, July, 1915 (reprinted in "The Best Short Stories of 1915").

*Closed Doors.
*Cup of Tea, A.
Glory of the Wild Green Earth, The.
John O'May.
Le Panache.

(13) Buzzell, Francis. Born in Romeo, Mich., 1882. His father was editor of the Romeo Hydrant, which Mr. Buzzell mentions in his Almont stories as the "Almont Hydrant." Moved when he was seven years old to Port Huron, Mich. Backward student. Educated in private school, and one year in Port Huron High School and Business College. Worked in railroad yards, and at age of nineteen as reporter on Port Huron Herald. At twenty-one became Chicago newspaper reporter, and later, associate editor, Popular Mechanics. In 1912 began literary career by publishing two poems in Poetry. Went to New York determined to become a great poet, and stayed there nine months. Married Miriam Kiper and returned to Chicago. Now a chief petty officer, U. S. N., and associate editor of Great Lakes Recruit. Lives in Lake Bluff, Ill.

*Lonely Places.
*Long Vacation, The.

(3) Campbell, Fleta. (See Roll of Honor for 1916 under Springer, Fleta Campbell.) Born in Newton, Kan., 1886, moved to Oklahoma, 1889. Educated in common schools of the frontier, no high school, and a year and a half preparatory school, University of Oklahoma. Lived in Texas and California. First story, "Solitude," Harper's Magazine, March, 1912. Lives in New York City.

*Mistress, The.

Cederschiöld, Gunnar.

*Foundling, The.

Chamberlain, George Agnew. Born of American parents, São Paulo, Brazil, 1879. Educated Lawrenceville School, N. J., and Princeton. Unmarried. In consular service since 1904. Now American Consul at Lourenço Marquez, Portuguese East Africa.

Man Who Went Back, The.

Cleghorn, Sarah Norcliffe. Born at Norfolk, Va., 1876. Educated at Burr and Burton Seminary, Manchester, Vt., an old country co-educational school; and one year at Radcliffe. Writer and tutor by profession. Chief interests are anti-vivisection, socialism, and above all, pacifism of the "extreme" kind. She likes best of everything in the world to go on a picnic with plenty of children. First short story, "The Mellen Idolatry," Delineator, about 1900. Author of "A Turnpike Lady," "The Spinster," "Fellow Captains" (with Dorothy Canfield), and "Portraits and Protests." Lives in Manchester, Vt.

"Mr. Charles Raleigh Rawdon, Ma'am."

(23) Cobb, Irvin Shrewsbury. Born at Paducah, Ky., 1876. Education limited to attendance of public and private schools up to age of sixteen. Reporter and cartoonist for several years; magazine contributor since 1910. Chief interests, outdoor life and travel. First short story, "The Escape of Mr. Trimm," Saturday Evening Post, November, 1910. Author of "Back Home," "Cobb's Anatomy," "The Escape of Mr. Trimm," "Cobb's Bill of Fare," "Roughing It de Luxe," "Europe Revised," "Paths of Glory," "Speaking of Operations," "Local Color," "Fibble, D. D.," "Old Judge Priest," "Speaking of Prussians," "Those Times and These," and "'Twixt the Bluff and the Sound." Lives within commuting distance of New York City.

*Boys Will Be Boys.
Cinnamon Seed and Sandy Bottom.
*Family Tree, The.
*Quality Folks.

(3) Connolly, James Brendan. Born at South Boston, Mass. Education, parochial and public schools of Boston and a few months in Harvard. Married Elizabeth F. Hurley, 1904. Clerk, inspector, and surveyor with U. S. Engineering Corps, Savannah, 1892-95. Won first Olympic championship of modern times at Athens, 1896. Served in Cuban campaign and in U. S. Navy, 1907-08. Progressive candidate for Congress, 1912. Member National Institute of Arts and Letters. Author "Jeb Hutton," "Out of Gloucester," "The Seiners," "The Deep Sea's Toll," "The Crested Seas," "An Olympic Victor," "Open Water," "Wide Courses," "Sonnie Boy's People," "The Trawler," "Head Winds," and "Running Free." Lives in Boston.

Breath o' Dawn.

(2) Cowdery, Alice. Born in San Francisco. Graduate of Leland Stanford University. First short story, "Gallant Age," Harper's Magazine, September, 1914. Lives in California.

Robert.

Crabbe, Bertha Helen. Born in 1887 in Coxsackie, N. Y. Her father moved his family to Rockaway Beach, L. I., in 1888, when it was little more than an isolated fishing-station. It was her good fortune to live among the novel conditions attending the rapid growth of this pioneer village, and to be surrounded by those interesting and widely varying types of people who are drawn to a city-in-the-making. Educated in public schools of the Rockaways, and at a boarding school in Tarrytown, N. Y. Student of painting. First story published in 1913 in a magazine of the Munsey group. Lives in Far Rockaway.

Once in a Lifetime.

Dobie, Charles Caldwell. Born in San Francisco, 1881. Education; grammar school and seventeen years' supplementary schooling in University of Hard Knocks. In fire insurance business for nearly twenty years. First story, "An Invasion," San Francisco Argonaut, Oct. 8, 1910. Gave up business, 1916, to devote himself to literature. Lives in San Francisco.

Empty Pistol, The.
Gifts, The.
*Laughter.
*Our Dog.

Dodge, Mabel.

Farmhands.

(23) Duncan, Norman. Born at Brantford, Ont., 1871. Educated University of Toronto. On staff New York Evening Post, 1897-01; professor rhetoric, Washington and Jefferson College, 1902-06; adjunct professor English literature, University Of Kansas, 1908-10. Travelled widely in Newfoundland, Labrador, Asia, and Australasia. Died 1916. Author: "The Soul of the Street," "The Way of the Sea," "Dr. Luke of the Labrador," "Dr. Grenfell's Parish," "The Mother," "The Adventures of Billy Topsail," "The Cruise of the Shining Light," "Every Man for Himself," "Going Down from Jerusalem," "The Suitable Child," "Higgins," "Billy Topsail & Company," "The Measure of a Man," "The Best of a Bad Job," "A God in Israel," "The Bird-Store Man," "Australian Byways," and "Billy Topsail, M.D."

*Little Nipper of Hide-an'-Seek Harbor, A.

(13) Dwight, H. G. Born in Constantinople, 1875. Educated at St. Johnsbury Academy, St. Johnsbury, Vt., and Amherst College. Chief interests: gardening and sailing. He remembers neither the title nor the date of his first published story. This because he was his own first editor and publisher. "First real story," "The Bathers," Scribner's Magazine, December, 1903. Author of "Constantinople," "Stamboul Nights," and "Persian Miniatures." Lives in Roselle, N. J. Is now an army field clerk in France.

*Emperor of Elam, The.

Ferber, Edna. Born in Kalamazoo, Mich., 1887. Educated in public and high schools, Appleton, Wis. Began as reporter on Appleton Daily Crescent at seventeen. Employed on Milwaukee Journal and Chicago Tribune; contributor to magazines since 1910. First short story, "The Homely Heroine," Everybody's Magazine, November, 1910. Jewish religion. Author of "Dawn O'Hara," "Buttered Side Down," "Roast Beef Medium," "Personality Plus," "Emma McChesney & Co.," and "Fanny Herself." Co-author with George V. Hobart of "Our Mrs. McChesney." Lives in New York City.

*Gay Old Dog, The.

Folsom, Elizabeth Irons. Born at Peoria, Ill., 1876. Grandfather and father were both writers. For a number of years member of editorial staff of The Pantagraph at Bloomington, Ill., doing the court work there and reading law at the same time. Left newspaper in 1916 to devote herself to fiction. First short story, "The Scheming of Letitia," Munsey's Magazine, April, 1914. Lives in New York City.

Kamerad.

Frank, Waldo. Born in 1800, Long Branch, N. J. Educated in New York public schools and at Yale. (B.A., M.A., and Honorary Fellowship.) While still at college, wrote regular signed column of dramatic criticism in New Haven Journal-Courier. Two years' newspaper work in New York. Went to Europe, devoting himself to study of French and German theater. One of the founders and associate editor of the Seven Arts Magazine. Chief interests: fiction, drama, criticism of American literary standards, and strengthening of relations between America and contemporary European (non-English) cultures. First story, "The Fruit of Misadventure," Smart Set, July, 1915. Author of "The Unwelcome Man." Lives in New York City.

*Bread-Crumbs.
Candles of Romance, The.
Rudd.

(123) Freeman, Mary E. Wilkins. Born at Randolph, Mass., 1862. Educated at Randolph and Mt. Holyoke. Married Dr. Charles M. Freeman, 1902. Author of "A Humble Romance," "A New England Nun," "Young Lucretia," "Jane Field," "Giles Corey," "Pembroke," "Madelon," "Jerome," "Silence," "Evelina's Garden," "The Love of Parson Lord," "The Heart's Highway," "The Portion of Labor," "Understudies," "Six Trees," "The Wind In the Rose Bush," "The Givers," "Doc Gordon," "By the Light of the Soul," "Shoulders of Atlas," "The Winning Lady," "Green Door," "Butterfly House," "The Yates Pride," "Copy-Cat," and other books. Lives in Metuchen, N. J.

Boomerang, The.
Cloak Also, The.
Ring with the Green Stone, The.

Geer, Cornelia Throop, is an instructor in Bryn Mawr College.

*Pearls Before Swine.

(123) Gerould, Katharine Fullerton. Born in Brockton, Mass., 1879. Graduate of Radcliffe College. Married, 1910. Reader in English, Bryn Mawr, 1901-10. Author: "Vain Oblations," "The Great Tradition," "Hawaii," and "A Change of Air." Lives in New Jersey.

*East of Eden.
*Hand of Jim Fane, The.
*Knight's Move, The.
*Wax Doll, The.
*What They Seem.

Glasgow, Ellen. Born in Richmond, Va., 1874. Educated at home, but this has been supplemented by a wide range of reading, and travel both abroad and in this country. Her first short story was "A Point in Morals," Harper's Magazine, about 1897. Author of "The Descendant," "Some Phases of an Inferior Planet," "The Voice of the People," "The Freeman and Other Poems," "The Battleground," "The Deliverance," "The Wheel of Life," "The Ancient Law," "The Romance of a Plain Man," "The Miller of Old Church," "Virginia," "Life and Gabriella." She lives in Richmond, Va.

*Dare's Gift.

Glaspell, Susan. (Mrs. George Cram Cook.) Born in Davenport, Iowa, 1882. Graduate Drake University. Reporter in Des Moines for several years. The idea for "A Jury of Her Peers" came from a murder trial which she reported. Chief interest: the little theater. Associated with the Provincetown Players. Married George Cram Cook, 1913. First story, "In the Face of His Constituents," Harper's Magazine, October 1903. Author of "The Glory of the Conquered," "The Visioning," "Lifted Masks," "Fidelity," several one-act plays: "Trifles," "Suppressed Desires" (in collaboration with George Cram Cook), "The People," and "Close the Book." Lives in Provincetown and New York City.

*Hearing Ear, The.
*Jury of Her Peers, A.
Matter of Gesture, A.

(13) Gordon, Armistead Churchill. Born in Albemarle County, Va., 1855. Educated at classical academy in Warrenton, N. C., and Charlottesville, Va., and at University of Virginia. Lawyer in Staunton, Va., since 1879. First story, "Envion," South Atlantic Magazine, July, 1880. Of this story his friend, Thomas Nelson Page, wrote in a preface to a volume of Mr. Gordon's stories, printed in 1899, but never published, entitled "Envion and Other Tales of Old and New Virginia": "To one of these sketches the writer is personally indebted for the idea of a tragic love affair during the war, an idea which he employed in his story 'Marse Chan,' and also for the method which he adopted of telling the story through the medium of a faithful servant." Author of "Befo' de War: Echoes in Negro Dialect" (with Thomas Nelson Page), "Congressional Currency," "For Truth and Freedom: Poems of Commemoration," "The Gay Gordons," "The Gift of the Morning Star," "The Ivory Gate," "Robin Aroon: A Comedy of Manners," "William Fitzhugh Gordon, a Virginian of the Old School," "J. L. M. Curry" (with E. A. Alderman), "Maje, a Love Story," and "Ommirandy." Lives in Staunton, Va.

*His Father's Flag.

(3) Greene, Frederick Stuart. Born in Rappahannock County, Va., 1870. Graduated from Virginia Military Institute, 1890. Civil engineer until May 14, 1917. Now commanding officer of Company "B," 302d Engineers, National Army, Camp Upton, N. Y. His chief interests are to see this war to a successful conclusion, and to devote himself thereafter to writing. First story, "Stictuit," Saturday Evening Post, April 5, 1913. Editor of "The Grim 13." Lives on Long Island, N. Y.

*Bunker Mouse, The.
*"Molly McGuire, Fourteen."

(3) Hallet, Richard Matthews. Born in Yarmouthport, Mass. Author of "The Lady Aft" and "Trial By Fire."

*Rainbow Pete.

Harris, Corra May. Born at Farm Hill, Ga. 1869. Married Rev. Lundy Howard Harris, 1887. Methodist. Began writing for the Independent, 1899. Author: "The Jessica Letters" (with Paul Elmer More), "A Circuit Rider's Wife," "Eve's Second Husband," "The Recording Angel," "In Search of a Husband," and "Co-Citizens." Lives in Rydal, Ga.

Other Soldiers in France, The.

Hartman, Lee Foster. Born in Fort Wayne, Ind., 1879. Graduate of Wesleyan University. Engaged in newspaper and magazine work in New York City since 1901. Now assistant editor of Harper's Magazine. First story, "My Lady's Bracelet," Munsey's Magazine, October, 1904. Author of "The White Sapphire." Lives in New York City.

*Frazee.

Hemenway, Hetty Lawrence. (Mrs. Auguste Richard.) Born in Boston, 1890. Educated in private schools in her home city. She has always been fond of outdoor life and devoted to animals, especially dogs and horses. Married Lieut. Auguste Richard, 1917. First story, "Four Days," Atlantic Monthly, May, 1917, since reprinted in book form.

*Four Days.

Hunt, Edward Eyre. Graduate of Harvard. Associated with American Relief Commission in Belgium. Author of "War-Bread."

Ghosts.
Saint Dympna's Miracle.

(23) Hurst, Fannie. Born in Hamilton, Ohio, 1889, but spent the first nineteen years of her life in St. Louis, Mo. An only child, and consequently forced into much solitude and a precocious amount of reading. Educated at home and in public schools of St. Louis. Graduate of Washington University. Two years' graduate work at Columbia. After vacillating between writing and the stage, the pen finally conquered, and between 1909 and 1912 just thirty-three manuscripts were submitted to and rejected by one publication alone,—a publication which later came to feature her work. First short story published in Reedy's Mirror, 1909; second story in Smith's Magazine, 1912. Lives in New York City. Active in women's suffrage, tennis and single tax; but her chief interest is her writing, her work-day being six hours long. Has made personal studies of the life she interprets, having at various times apprenticed herself as waitress, saleswoman, and factory-girl. Author of "Just Around the Corner," "Every Soul Hath Its Song," "Gaslight Sonatas."

*Get Ready the Wreaths.
Solitary Reaper.

Hutchison, Percy Adams. Graduate of, and for some years instructor at, Harvard University.

*Journey's End.

(3) Johnson, Fanny Kemble. (Mrs. Vincent Costello.) Born in Rockbridge County, Va., and educated in private schools. Moved to Charleston, W. Va., 1897. Married Vincent Costello, 1899. Has lived in Wheeling, W. Va., since 1907. Her chief interests are her four children, her writing, and contemporary history as it is made from day to day. "The Pathway Round," Atlantic Monthly, August, 1900, marked her entrance into the professional magazines. Author of "The Beloved Son."

*Strange-Looking Man, The.

Jones, E. Clement. Born in Boston, 1890. First short story in verse, "Country Breath and the Ungoverned Brother," London Nation, 1911. Contributor to The New Republic and The Seven Arts. Lives in Concord, Mass.

*Sea-Turn, The.

Kauffman, Reginald Wright. Born at Columbia, Pa., 1877. Educated at St. Paul's School, Concord, and at Harvard. Married, 1909. In newspaper work since 1897. Associate editor Saturday Evening Post, 1904-07; later associate editor Delineator, and managing editor Hampton's Magazine. Author of "Jarvis of Harvard," "The Things That Are Cæsar's," "The Chasm," "Miss Frances Baird, Detective," "The Bachelor's Guide to Matrimony," "What is Socialism?", "My Heart and Stephanie," "The House of Bondage," "The Girl That Goes Wrong," "The Way of Peace," "The Sentence of Silence," "The Latter Day Saints" (with Ruth Kauffman), "Running Sands," "The Spider's Web," "Little Old Belgium," "In a Moment of Time," "Jim," and "The Silver Spoon." Lives in Columbia, Pa.

Lonely House, The.

Kline, Burton. Born at Williamsport, Pa., 1877. Educated at Dickinson Seminary, Williamsport, and at Harvard. Married, 1909. Newspaper man. Magazine editor Boston Transcript. Republican. Lutheran. Author of "Struck by Lightning" and "The End of the Flight." Lives in Arlington, Mass.

*Caller in the Night, The.

Krysto, Christina. Born in Batum, Russia, 1887. Her early education was thoroughly Russian. She was taught at home and given unrestricted freedom in a really fine library. Emigrated to California when nine years old. Studied at University of California. Now engaged in ranch work and the endeavor to arrange her life so that there will be room in it for writing. "Babanchik" is her first story. She lives in Alta Loma, Cal.

Babanchik.

Lee, Jennette. Born at Bristol, Conn., 1860. Attended Bristol schools. Began teaching, 1876. Graduated from Smith College, 1886. First story, "Bufiddle," published in the Independent, 1886. Taught English at Vassar, Western Reserve College for Women, and Smith College. Her special interest is relating education to life. Resigned professorship in English at Smith College, 1913. Married Gerald Stanley Lee, 1896. Author of "Kate Wetherell," "A Pillar of Salt," "The Son of a Fiddler," "Uncle William," "The Ibsen Secret," "Simeon Tetlow's Shadow," "Happy Island," "Mr. Achilles," "The Taste of Apples," "The Woman in the Alcove," "Aunt Jane," "The Symphony Play," "Unfinished Portraits," and "The Green Jacket." She lives in Northampton, Mass.

John Fairchild's Mirror.

Lewis, Addison. Born in Minneapolis, 1889. Educated in public schools. Graduated from University of Minnesota in 1912. Regards as a liberal share of his education a very brief circus career, and five years spent as assistant managing editor of The Bellman and the Northwestern Miller. His professions are journalism and advertising; is bothered mostly with the necessity of getting the nebulous idea for a story on paper, freshwater sailing, and the problem of improving his game of golf. First story, "The End of the Lane," Reedy's Mirror, Feb. 2, 1917. He lives in Minneapolis.

*When Did You Write Your Mother Last?

London, Jack. Born at San Francisco, 1876. Educated at University of California. Married Bessie Maddern, 1900; Charmian Kittredge, 1905. Went to the Klondike instead of graduating from college; went to sea before the mast; traveled as a tramp through the United States and Canada; war correspondent during the Russo-Japanese War; and navigated his yacht "Snark" in the South Seas, 1907-09. Socialist. Author of "The Son of the Wolf," "The God of His Fathers," "A Daughter of the Snows," "The Children of the Frost," "The Cruise of the Dazzler," "The People of the Abyss," "Kempton-Wace Letters," "The Call of the Wild," "The Faith of Men," "The Sea Wolf," "The Game," "War of the Classes," "Tales of the Fish Patrol," "Moon-Face," "Scorn of Women," "White Fang," "Before Adam," "Love of Life," "The Iron Heel," "The Road," "Martin Eden," "Lost Face," "Revolution," "Burning Daylight," "Theft," "When God Laughs," "Adventure," "The Cruise of the Snark," "South Sea Tales," "Smoke Bellew Tales," "The House of Pride," "A Son of the Sun," "The Night-Born," "The Abysmal Brute," "John Barleycorn," "The Valley of the Moon," "The Strength of the Strong," "The Mutiny of the Elsinore," "The Scarlet Plague," "The Star Rover," "The Little Lady of the Big House," "Jerry," and "Michael, the Brother of Jerry." He died in 1916.

Like Argus of the Ancient Time.

(3) Marshall, Edison. Born in Rensselaer, Ind. Moved to Medford, Ore., in 1907. Educated at University of Oregon. In newspaper work till 1916. Now writing for the magazines. Unmarried. Chief interests: hunting and fishing. His first story was, "The Sacred Fire," Argosy, April, 1915. Age, twenty-four. Principal ambition is to get to France. Lives in Medford, Ore.

Man that Was in Him, The.

Masters, Edgar Lee. Born at Garnett, Kan., 1868. Educated at high school and Knox College. Studied law in his father's office. Admitted to the bar, 1891. Married, 1898. Democrat. Author of "A Book of Verses," "Maximilian," "The New Star Chamber and Other Essays," "Blood of the Prophets," "Althea," "The Trifler," "Spoon River Anthology," "Songs and Satires," and "The Great Valley." His first story was published in the Peoria Call in 1886 or 1887, and in 1889 he published several short stories in the Waverly Magazine. Lives in Chicago.

Boyhood Friends.
*Widow La Rue.

Morton, Johnson.

*Understudy, The.

Nafe, Gertrude. Born in Grand Island, Neb., 1883. Graduate of University of Colorado. Teaches English in East Denver High School. Her chief interest in life is revolution. Her first contribution was "The Woman Who Stood in the Market Place," published in Mother Earth in February, 1914. Lives in Denver, Colo.

One Hundred Dollars.

Nicholson, Meredith. Born at Crawfordsville, Ind., 1866. Educated in Indianapolis public schools. Married, 1896. Member of National Institute of Arts and Letters. Author of "Short Flights," "The Hoosiers," "The Main Chance," "Zelda Dameron," "The House of a Thousand Candles," "Poems," "The Port of Missing Men," "Rosalind at Red Gate," "The Little Brown Jug at Kildare," "The Lords of High Decision," "The Siege of the Seven Suitors," "The Hoosier Chronicle," "The Provincial American," "Otherwise Phyllis," "The Poet," "The Proof of the Pudding," "The Madness of May," and "A Reversible Santa Claus."

"My first literary tinklings were in verse; you will note two volumes of poems in my list. Finding at fifteen that the schools within my reach did not meet my requirements, I went to work and began educating myself along lines of least resistance. My occupations were various: worked in printing offices, learned shorthand, became stenographer in a law office; was in newspaper work for twelve years; at thirty was auditor and treasurer of a coal-mining corporation in Colorado; after three years of business became a writer of books. When I was eighteen I wrote three short stories which were published, and after that wrote no fiction till I was thirty-two. I haven't thought of it before, but it was odd that I wrote no short stories and had no interest in that form until about five years ago. Since then I have done a number every year. Without being a politician, I have dabbled somewhat in political matters, making speeches at times, and abusing my fellow partisans (I am a Democrat) when they needed chastisement. I have been defeated for nominations and have declined nominations, and I once refused a foreign appointment of considerable dignity that was very kindly offered me by a President. When it comes to 'interests' I have, I suppose, a journalistic mind. Anything that is of contemporaneous human interest interests me—even free verse, which I despise, but read." Mr. Nicholson lives in Indianapolis.

*Heart of Life, The.

Norton, Roy. Born at Kewanee, Ill., 1869. High school education. Studied law, mining, and languages. Married, 1894. Practiced law at Ogden, 1892. In newspaper work for some years. Democrat. Roman Catholic. Mason. Author of "Guilty" (with William Hallowell), "The Vanishing Fleets," "The Toll of the Sea," "Mary Jane's Pa," "The Garden of Fate," "The Plunderer," "Captains Three," "The Mediator," "The Moccasins of Gold," "The Boomers," and "The Man of Peace." Lives in New Jersey.

Aunt Seliny.

(2) O'Brien, Seumas. Born at Glenbrook, County Cork, Ireland, April 26, 1880,—three days and three hundred and sixteen years (?) after Mr. William Shakespeare of Stratford-on-Avon. Education: none or very little, and less German than French. Profession: pessimist. Chief interests: Russian Jewesses and American dollars. In more sober truth, education: Presentation Brothers Schools, Cork School of Art, Cork School of Music, Metropolitan School of Art, Dublin, and Royal College of Art, London. Profession: sculptor and dramatist. Chief interests: literature, art, and music. First magazine to publish his work, The Tatler. Author of "The Whale and the Grasshopper," "Duty, and Other Irish Comedies," and "The Knowledgeable Man." Lives in Brooklyn, N. Y.

*Murder?

O'Higgins, Harvey J. Born in London, Ont., 1876. Educated at public schools and Toronto University. In newspaper work from 1897 to 1902. First short story, "Not for Publication," in Youth's Companion, March, 1902. Chief interests: those of a publicist, aiding social and political reforms. Author of "The Smoke Eaters," "Don-a-Dreams," "A Grand Army Man," "Old Clinkers," "The Beast and the Jungle" (with Judge Ben B. Lindsey), "Under the Prophet in Utah" (with Frank J. Cannon), "The Argyle Case" (with Harriet Ford), "The Dummy," "Polygamy," "Silent Sam" (with Harriet Ford), and "Adventures of Detective Barney." He lives in New Jersey.

From the Life: Thomas Wales Warren.

(3) O'Sullivan, Vincent. Born in New York, 1872. Graduate of Oxford. Author of "The Good Girl," "Sentiment," "Of Human Affairs," and many other books. Lives in Brooklyn, N. Y.

*Interval, The.

Pangborn, Georgia Wood. Born at Malone, N. Y., 1872. Educated at Franklin Academy, Malone; Packer Institute, Brooklyn, and Smith College. Married, 1894. First short story, "The Grek Collie," Scribner's Magazine, July, 1903. Author of "Roman Biznet" and "Interventions." Lives in New York City.

*Bixby's Bridge.

Perry, Lawrence. Born in Newark, N. J., 1875. Educated in public and private schools. He had a choice between college and the New York Sun (Charles A. Dana, then editor) as a medium of higher education. Has always regarded his decision in favor of the Sun as wise, considering an ambition to learn life and then write about it. On staff of Sun and Evening Sun, 1897-1905. Went to Evening Post, 1906; there organized and edited "Yachting" until 1909. Has since concentrated on inter-collegiate sport and fiction. His first story, "Joe Lewis," in Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly, September, 1902. Author of "Dan Merrithew," "Prince or Chauffeur," "Holton," and "The Fullback." Lives in New York City.

*"Certain Rich Man, A.—"

Portor, Laura Spencer.

Boy's Mother, The.
Idealist, The.

Pottle, Emery. Is a poet and short-story writer of distinction, now with the Aviation Corps in France, specializing in Observation Balloon work.

Breach in the Wall, The.
*Portrait, The.

Prouty, Olive Higgins. Born in Worcester, Mass., 1882. Educated in public schools. Graduated from Smith College, 1904. Post-graduate work at Simmons College and Radcliffe. Chief interests: home and her children's development and education. Married in 1907. First story, "When Elise Came," American Magazine, April, 1909. Author of "Bobbie, General Manager," and "The Fifth Wheel." Lives in Brookline, Mass.

New England War Bride, A.

Pulver, Mary Brecht. Born in Mount Joy, Pa., 1883. Educated in public schools, normal school, and Philadelphia School of Applied Art. Married, 1906. Chief interests: music, painting, and literature. Author of "The Spring Lady." Lives in Binghamton, N. Y.

*Path of Glory, The.

Raisin, Ovro'om, is a distinguished Yiddish writer of fiction now living in New York City.

Ascetic, The.

Richardson, Norval. Born at Vicksburg, Miss., 1877. Educated at Lawrenceville School, N. J., and Southwestern Presbyterian University. Secretary and treasurer Lee Richardson & Company. In diplomatic service since 1909 at Havana, Copenhagen, and Rome. Author of "The Heart of Hope," "The Lead of Honour," "George Thorne," and "The Honey Pot." Is now connected with the American Embassy, Rome, Italy.

*Miss Fothergill.

(23) Rosenblatt, Benjamin. Born on New Year's Eve, 1880, in a tiny Russian village named Resoska. When he was ten, his parents brought him to New York, where he was set to work in a shop at once. Later he sold newspapers. At the age of seventeen his first story in Yiddish, entitled "She Laughed," appeared in Vörwarts. At that time he studied English diligently, and prepared himself for college. For a number of years he was a frequent contributor to the Jewish press. His first English story, entitled "Free," appeared in The Outlook, July 4, 1903. After leaving the normal training school he taught English to foreigners, opening a preparatory school. His story "Zelig," in my opinion, was the best American short story in 1915. He is now attending New York University, and is an insurance agent. He lives in Brooklyn, N. Y.

Madonna, The.

Schneider, Herman. Born at Summit Hill, Pa., 1872. Graduated from Lehigh University in science, 1894. Now Dean of the College of Engineering, University of Cincinnati. Profession: civil engineer. Chief interests: advancing technical education, promoting scientific research, and planning methods to give free outlook to the creative genius of the country in science, art, music, literature, and every other phase of human endeavor. Author of "Education for Industrial Workers." First short story, "Arthur McQuaid, American," Outlook, May 23, 1917. At present, living in Washington, working in the Ordnance Department on industrial service problems.

Shaft of Light, A.

Shepherd, William Gunn, is a war correspondent in Europe, who was with Richard Harding Davis at Salonika when the incident occurred which suggested to Davis the idea for his short story, "The Deserter."

*Scar that Tripled, The.

Showerman, Grant. Born in Brookfield, Wis., 1870, of Dutch and English stock, his grandfather, Luther Parker, having in 1836 driven the entire distance from Indian Stream, N. H., to Wisconsin, where he was the first permanent settler in his township. Educated in Brookfield district school, Carroll College, and University of Wisconsin. Fellow in the American School of Classical Studies at Rome, 1898-1900. Married, 1900. Now professor of classics, University of Wisconsin. Interested chiefly in literature and finds his diversion on the Four Lakes. First short story, "Italia Liberata," Scribner's Magazine, January, 1908. Author of "With the Professor," a translation of Ovid's "Heroides" and "Amores," "The Indian Stream Republic and Luther Parker," "A Country Chronicle," and "A Country Child." Lives in Madison, Wis.

*Country Christmas, A.

(123) Singmaster, Elsie. (Mrs. Harold Lewars.) Born at Schuylkill Haven, Pa., 1879. Graduate of Radcliffe College. Her first story, "The Lése Majesté of Hans Heckendorn," Scribner's Magazine, November, 1905. Author of "When Sarah Saved the Day," "When Sarah Went to School," "Gettysburg," "Katy Gaumer," "Emmeline," "The Long Journey," "Martin Luther: the Story of His Life," and "History of Lutheran Missions." Lives in Gettysburg, Pa.

*Christmas Angel, The.
*Flag of Eliphalet, The.

Smith, Elizabeth C. A. (See "Breck, John.")

(23) Smith, Gordon Arthur, was born in Rochester, N. Y., 1886. Educated at Harvard. Studied architecture in Paris for four years. Now a writer by profession. Chief interests: aviation, architecture, and music. First published story, "The Bottom of the Sea," in Black Cat at age of sixteen. Author of "Mascarose" and "The Crown of Life." Now an ensign in the U. S. Navy Flying Forces, "somewhere in France." Home: Rochester, N. Y.

*End of the Road, The.
Friend of the People, A.

(23) Sneddon, Robert W. Born in 1880 at Beith, Ayrshire, Scotland, the son of a doctor. Studied arts and law at Glasgow University, and served law apprenticeship at Glasgow and Edinburgh. Lived in London and Paris, and since 1909 has lived in New York. First short story, "Little Golden Shoes," The Forum, August, 1912. Author of "The Might-Have-Beens." Fond of outdoors and fireside. Chief interest: reaching the heart of the public. Chief sport: hunting for a publisher for three volumes of short stories and for producers for his plays.

"Mirror! Mirror! Tell Me True!"

"Star, Mark," is the pseudonym of a lady who prefers to remain unknown.

Garden of Sleep, The.

(23) Steele, Wilbur Daniel. Born in Greensboro, N. C., 1886. Educated at University of Denver. Studied art in Denver, Boston, and Paris. First short story, "On the Ebb Tide," Success, 1910. Author of "Storm." Lives in Provincetown, Mass.

*Ching, Ching, Chinaman.
Devil of a Fellow, A.
Free.
*Ked's Hand.
Point of Honor, A.
*White Hands.
*The Woman at Seven Brothers.

Steffens, (Joseph) Lincoln. Born at San Francisco, 1866. Educated at University of California, Berlin, Heidelberg, Leipzig, Paris, and Sorbonne. Married, 1891. In newspaper work, 1892-1902. Since then managing and associate editor at different times of McClure's Magazine, American Magazine, and Everybody's Magazine. Author of "The Shame of the Cities," "The Struggle for Self Government," "Upbuilders," and "The Least of These." He lives in New York City.

Bunk.
Great Lost Moment, The.

Sullivan, Alan, is a Canadian author.

Only Time He Smiled, The.

(123) Synon, Mary. Born in Chicago, 1881. Educated at St. Jarlath's School, West Division High School, and University of Chicago. In newspaper work since 1900. Chosen by Gaelic League in 1912 to write for American newspapers a series of articles on the Irish situation. First story, "The Boy Who Went Back to the Bush," Scribner's Magazine, November, 1909. For three years secretary of the Woman's Auxiliary of the Catholic Church Extension Society; now executive secretary of the Woman's Liberty Loan Committee. Author of "The Fleet Goes By." Lives in Wilmette, Ill.

Clay-Shattered Doors.
End of the Underground, The.
*None So Blind.

Taber, Elizabeth Stead.

*Scar, The.

(3) Vorse, Mary Heaton. (Mary Heaton Vorse O'Brien.) Born in New York. Never went properly to school because her family traveled widely, but studied art in Paris at several academies. She is most interested in radical thought, especially as expressed in the radical wing of the labor movement. Married Albert W. Vorse, 1898; Joseph O'Brien, 1912. First story, "The Boy Who Didn't Catch Things," Everybody's Magazine, June, 1904. Author of "The Breaking in of a Yachtsman's Wife," "The Very Little Person," "The Autobiography of an Elderly Woman," "The Heart's Country," and "The Ninth Man." Lives in Provincetown, Mass., and New York City.

Great God, The.
Pavilion of Saint Merci, The.

(23) Weston, George. Born in New York, 1880. High school education. Studied law and founded the Western Engineering Company. On editorial staff of New York Evening Sun from 1900. Retired to farm in Connecticut, 1912. An enthusiastic sportsman, farmer, and motorist. Single, white, an ardent Republican, a staunch admirer of Mr. Charles Chaplin, an accomplished listener to the violin, a Latin versifier, a connoisseur of roses, a fancier of fox-terriers, a lover of shad-roe and bacon, and a never-swerving champion of woman's suffrage. First short story, "After Many Years," Harper's Magazine, 1910. Author of "Oh, Mary, Be Careful!" Lives in Packer, Conn.

Perfect Gentleman, A.

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THE ROLL OF HONOR OF FOREIGN SHORT STORIES IN AMERICAN MAGAZINES FOR 1917

Note. Stories of special excellence are indicated by an asterisk. The index figures 1, 2, and 3 prefixed to the name of the author indicate that his work has been included in the Rolls of Honor for 1914, 1915, and 1916 respectively.

I. English and Irish Authors

(23) Aumonier, Stacy.

*In the Way of Business.
*Packet, The.
*Them Others.

(3) Beresford, J. D.

*Escape, The.
*Little Town, The.
*Powers of the Air.

(13) Conrad, Joseph.

*Warrior's Soul, The.

Dudeney, Mrs. Henry.

*Feather-bed, The.

Dunsany, Lord.

*How the Gods Avenged Meoul Ki Ning.

(123) Galsworthy, John.

*Defeat.
Flotsam and Jetsam.
Juryman, The.

George, W. L.

*Interlude.

Gibson, Wilfrid Wilson.

*News, The.

Hamilton, Cosmo.

Ladder Leaning on a Cloud, The.

Houseman, Laurence.

Inside-out.

Lawrence, D. H.

*England, My England.
*Mortal Coil, The.
*Thimble, The.

Le Gallienne, Richard.

Bugler of the Immortals, The.

Machen, Arthur.

*Coming of the Terror, The.

MacManus, Seumas.

*Mad Man, the Dead Man, and the Devil, The.

Mordaunt, Elinor.

*Gold Fish, The.

Pertwee, Roland.

*Camouflage.
*Red and White.

(3) Soutar, Andrew.

Behind the Veil.

Thomas, Edward.

*Passing of Pan, The.

(3) Wylie, I. A. R.

*Holy Fire.
*'Melia No-Good.
*Return, The.

II. Translations

Andreyev, Leonid Nikolaevich. (Russian.)

*Lazarus.

Anonymous. (German.)

Evocation, The.
"Huppdiwupp."

Bazin, René. (French.)

*Mathurine's Eyes.

Boutet, Frederic. (French.)

*Medallion, The.

Chekhov, Anton. (Russian.) (See Tchekhov, Anton.)

Chirikov, Evgeniy. (Russian.)

*Past, The.

Delarue-Madrus, Lucie. (French.)

*Death of the Dead, The.

Heine, Anselma. (German.)

*Vision, The.

Le Braz, Anatole. (French.)
Christmas Treasure, The.
Lev, Bernard. (Bohemian.)
Bert, the Scamp.
*Marfa's Assumption.
Madeiros e Albuquerque, José de. (Brazilian.)
*Vengeance of Felix, The.
Netto, Coelho. (Brazilian.)
*Pigeons, The.
Philippe, Charles-Louis. (French.)
*Meeting, The.
Rinck, C. A. (German.)
Song, The.
Saltykov, M. Y. ("N. Schedrin.") (Russian.)
*Hungry Officials and the Accommodating Muzhik, The.
"Skitalets." (Russian.)
*"And the Forest Burned."
Tchekhov, Anton. (Russian.)
Dushitchka.
*Old Age.

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THE BEST BOOKS OF SHORT STORIES OF 1917: A CRITICAL ANALYSIS

Christmas Tales of Flanders, illustrated by Jean de Bosschere (Dodd, Mead & Co.). If you like Andersen's Fairy Tales, here is a book which comes as truly from the heart of a people. Many old folk legends are here set down just as they came from the lips of old people in Flanders, and as they have never grown old in that countryside let us hope that they will take root equally well here. The volume is superbly illustrated with many pictures from the whimsical fancy of Jean de Bosschere. These pictures are indescribable, but they will rejoice the heart of any child, old or young.

From Death to Life by A. Apukhtin, translated by R. Frank and E. Huybers (R. Frank). This story, which so happily inaugurates a series of translations from Russian literature, is a poetic study in life after death, chronicling the experiences of a soul between death and rebirth. The translators have succeeded in reflecting successfully the fine imaginative style of this prose poem, which deserves to be widely known. It tempts us to wish that other stories by Apukhtin may soon find an English translator.

Tales of the Revolution by Michael Artzibashev, translated by Percy Pinkerton. (B. W. Huebsch.) The five tales by Artzibashev included in this volume all have the same quality of bitter irony and mordant self-analysis. The psychological revelation of the mind that has made the later phases of the present Russian Revolution possible is complete, and I know of no book that presents more clearly and truthfully the rudderless pessimism of these particular spiritual reactions. Such courageous dissection of the diseased mind has never been undertaken in American or English fiction, and though its realism is appalling, it is healthful in its naked frankness.

The Friends by Stacy Aumonier (The Century Co.). When "The Friends" was published two years ago in The Century Magazine, it was evident at once that an important new short-story writer had arrived. The homely humanity of his characterization was but the evidence of a rich imaginative talent that found self-expression in the more quiet ways of life. I said at the time that I believed "The Friends" to be one the two best short stories of 1915, and others felt it to be the best story of the year. To "The Friends" have now been added in this volume two other stories of almost equal distinction,—"The Packet" and "'In the Way of Business.'" While Mr. Aumonier has a certain didactic intention in these stories, he has kept it entirely subordinate to the artistry of his exposition, and it is the few characters which he has added to English fiction that we remember after his somewhat obvious moral has been conveyed. His short stories have the same flavor of belated Victorianism that one enjoys in the novels of William De Morgan, and he is equally noteworthy in his chosen field.

Irish Idylls by Jane Barlow (Dodd, Mead & Co.). This new edition of "Irish Idylls" should introduce the admirable studies of Miss Barlow to a new audience that may not be familiar with what was a pioneer volume in its day. Published in 1893, it almost marked the beginning of the Irish literary movement, and so many fine writers followed Miss Barlow that she has been most unfairly concealed by their shadows. Her studies of the lives and deaths, joys and sorrows, of Connemara peasants are none the less real because they are the product of observation by one who did not live among them. They show, as Miss Barlow says, that "there are plenty of things beside turf to be found in a bog." It is true that they represent a slight spirit of condescension, entirely absent from the work of Padraic Colum, for instance, but they approach far more closely to the heart of the Irish fishermen and farmers than the work of any other English type of mind; and although Miss Barlow is best known today by her poetry, I have always felt that she conveyed more poetry into "Irish Idylls" than into any other of her books. The volume is a necessary and permanent edition to any small collection of modern Irish literature.

Day and Night Stories by Algernon Blackwood (E. P. Dutton & Co.). In these fifteen short stories Mr. Blackwood has adequately maintained the quality of his best previous animistic work. To those who found a new imaginative world in "The Centaur" and "Pan's Garden," the old familiar magic still has power in many of these stories,—almost completely in "The Touch of Pan" and "Initiation." Hardly inferior to these stories for their passionate reality are "The Other Wing," "The Occupant of the Room," "The Tryst," and "H. S. H." There is no story in this volume which would not have made the reputation of a new writer, and I can hardly find a better introduction than "Day and Night Stories" to the beauty of Mr. Blackwood's imaginative life. He serves the same altar of beauty in our day that John Keats served a century ago, and I cannot but believe that his magic will gain greater poignancy as generations pass.

The Derelict by Phyllis Bottome (The Century Co.). This collection of Miss Bottome's short stories, many of which have previously appeared in the Century Magazine during the past two years, gives a more complete revelation of her talent than either of her novels. I suspect that the short story is her true literary medium, and certainly there are at least six of these eight short stories which I should be compelled to list with three stars in my annual Roll of Honor. In subject and mood they range from tragedy to social comedy. Elsewhere in this volume I have discussed "'Ironstone,'" which seems to me the best of these stories. A subtle irony pervades them, but it is so definitely concealed that its insistence is never evident.

Old Christmas, and Other Kentucky Tales in Verse by William Aspenwall Bradley (The Houghton-Mifflin Co.). In this series of vignettes in verse Mr. Bradley has presented the Kentucky mountaineer as imaginatively as Robert Frost has presented the farmer-folk of New Hampshire in "North of Boston" and "Mountain Interval." The racy humor of these narratives is thoroughly indigenous, and Mr. Bradley's work has a vivid dramatic power which challenges successfully a comparison with the stories of John Fox, Jr. These poems prove Mr. Bradley's rightful claim to be the first adequate imaginative interpreter of the people who live in the Cumberland Mountains.

The Fighting Men by Alden Brooks (Charles Scribner's Sons). Of these six stories four have been published in Collier's Weekly during the past two years, and elsewhere I have had occasion to comment upon their excellence. These narratives may be regarded as separate cantos of a war epic, which is fairly comparable for its vividness of portrayal to Stephen Crane's masterpiece, "The Red Badge of Courage." Few writers, other than these two, have been able to portray the naked ugliness of warfare, and the passions which warfare engenders, with more brutal power. Time alone will tell whether these stories have a chance of permanence, but I am disposed to rank them with that other portrait of the mercilessness of war, "Under Fire," by Henri Barbusse.

Limehouse Nights by Thomas Burke (Robert M. McBride & Co.). These colorful stories of life in London's Chinatown are in my humble belief destined never to grow old. This volume is the most important volume of short stories by a new English writer to appear during 1917, and is only surpassed by Daniel Corkery's volume "A Munster Twilight." Such patterned prose in fiction has not been known since the days of Walter Pater, and Mr. Burke's sense of the almost intolerable beauty of ugly things has a persuasive fascination for the reader who may have a strong prejudice against his subjects. Such horror as Mr. Burke has imagined is almost impossible to portray convincingly, yet the author has softened its starkness into patterns of gracious beauty and musical rhythmic speech.

Rinconete and Cortadillo by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, translated from the Spanish by Mariano J. Lorente, with a preface by R. B. Cunninghame Graham (The Four Seas Co.). This is an excellent translation by a Spanish man of letters of what is perhaps the best exemplary Novel by Cervantes. As Mr. Cunninghame Graham points out in his delightful introduction, "Rinconete and Cortadillo" is perhaps the best sketch of Spanish low-life that has come down to us. It is highly amoral, despite its sub-title, and all the more delightful perhaps on that account. I hope that the translator may be persuaded, if the volume goes into the second edition it so richly deserves, to omit his very contentious preface, which can be of interest only to himself and two other people. Then our delight in this volume would be complete.

The Duel (Macmillan), The House with the Mezzanine (Scribner), The Lady with the Dog (Macmillan), The Party (Macmillan), and Rothschild's Fiddle (Boni and Liveright) by Anton Chekhov. To The Darling, which was the first volume, so far as I know, of Chekhov, to be presented to the American public, five new collections of Chekhov's tales have been added during the past year in excellent English renderings. Three of these volumes are translated by Constance Garnett, whose superb translations of Turgenieff and Dostoievsky are well known to American readers. Because Chekhov ranks with Poe and De Maupassant as one of the three supreme masters of the short story, it is a matter of signal importance that these translations should appear, and in them every mood of Russian life is reflected with subtle artistry and a passionate reality of creative vision. Chekhov is destined to exert greater and greater influence on the American short story as the translations of his work increase, and these five volumes prove him to be fully equal to Dostoievsky in sustained and varied spiritual observation. These stories range through the entire gamut of human emotion from sublime tragedy to the richest and most golden comedy. If I were to choose a single author of short stories for my library on a desert island, my choice would inevitably turn to these volumes.

Those Times and These by Irvin S. Cobb (George H. Doran Co.). This is quite the best volume of short stories that Mr. Cobb has yet published. Since "The Escape of Mr. Trimm," which was his first short story, was printed in the Saturday Evening Post seven years ago, Mr. Cobb's literary development has been rapid, if not sure; but he may now with this volume lay claim fairly to the mantle of Mark Twain for the rich humanity with which he has endowed his substance and the inimitable humor of his characterizations. In "The Family Tree" and "Cinnamon Seed and Sandy Bottom" Mr. Cobb has added two stories of permanent value to American literature, and in "Mr. Felsburg Gets Even" and "And There Was Light" Mr. Cobb's literary art is almost as well sustained. My only quarrel with him in this book is for the inclusion of "A Kiss for Kindness," where a fine short-story possibility seems to have been entirely missed by the author, perhaps because, as he ingenuously confessed shortly afterward, he had just become an abandoned farmer.

Running Free by James B. Connolly (Charles Scribner's Sons). Of the ten short stories included by Mr. Connolly in this collection, four are among the best he has ever written: "Breath O' Dawn," "The Sea-Birds," "The Medicine Ship," and "One Wireless Night." With the simplicity of speech which characterizes all of Mr. Connolly's work, he relates his story for the story's sake. Because he is an Irishman he is an incorrigible romanticist, and I suspect that characterization interests him for the story's sake rather than for itself alone. But now that Richard Harding Davis is dead, I suppose that James B. Connolly may fairly take his place as our best born yarner, with all a yarner's privileges.

Teepee Neighbors by Grace Coolidge (The Four Seas Co.). This quiet little book of narratives and Indian portraits by Miss Coolidge deserves more attention than it has yet received, and for its qualities of quiet pathos and sympathetic insight into the Indian character I associate it as of equal value with Margaret Prescott Montague's stories of blind children in West Virginia.

A Munster Twilight by Daniel Corkery (Frederick A. Stokes Co.). I have never read a new volume of short stories with such a sense of discovery as I felt when these tales came to my hand. Because the volume appears to have attracted absolutely no attention as yet in this country, I wish to emphasize my firm belief that this is the most memorable volume of short stories published in English within the past five years. It makes us eager to read Mr. Corkery's new novel, "The Threshold of Quiet," in order that we may see if such a glorious imaginative sweep can be maintained in a novel as the reader will find in any single short story of this volume. Here you will find the very heart of Ireland's spiritual adventure revealed in folk speech of inevitable beauty. There is not a story in the book which does not disclose new aspects after repeated readings. A craftsmanship so fine and vigorous is seldom related with such artistic humility. "A Munster Twilight" proves that there are still great men in Ireland.

Brought Forward, Faith, Hope, Charity, Progress, and Success by R. B. Cunninghame Graham (Frederick A. Stokes Co.). It is an extraordinary fact that a short-story writer so deservedly well-known in England as Mr. Cunninghame Graham, whose sketches of life in many parts of the globe have been published at frequent intervals through the past decade, is yet entirely unknown in this country. To be sure, such has been the fate of W. H. Hudson until very recently. These six volumes certainly rank, by virtue of the quality of their style and the imaginative reality of their substance, with the best work of Mr. Hudson, and the parallel is the more complete because both writers have made the vanished life of the South American plains real to the English mind. Mr. Cunninghame Graham is one of the great travel writers, and ranks with Borrow and Ford, but he is more impartially interested in character than either Borrow or Ford, and has a far more vivid feeling for the spiritual values of landscape. It may be that these stories are for the few only, but I am loth to believe it. The life of the pampas and the life of the Moroccan desert live in these pages with an actuality as great as the life of the American plains lives in the work of Hamlin Garland, and there is an epic sweep in Mr. Cunninghame Graham's vision that I find in no other contemporary English writer.

The Echo of Voices by Richard Curle (Alfred A. Knopf). It is very rarely that a disciple as faithful as Mr. Curle publishes a volume which his master would be proud to sign, but I think that the reader will detect in this book the authentic voice of Joseph Conrad. Mr. Conrad's own personal enthusiasm for the book is an ingratiating introduction to the reader, but in these eight stories Mr. Curle can certainly afford to stand alone. Preoccupied as he is with the mystery of human existence, and the effect of circumstance upon the character, he portrays eight widely different human types, almost all of them with a certain pathetic futility of aspect, so surely and finely that they live before us. It is an interesting fact that the three best short story books in English of 1917 come from the other side of the water. "Limehouse Nights," "A Munster Twilight," and "The Echo of Voices" make this year so memorable in fiction that later years may well prove disappointing.

The Eternal Husband and Other Stories and The Gambler and Other Stories by Fyodor Dostoievsky (The Macmillan Co.). These two new volumes continue the complete English edition of Dostoievsky which is being translated by Constance Garnett. The renderings have the same qualities of idiomatic speech and subtly rendered nuance which is always to be found in this translator's work, and although both of these volumes represent the minor work of Dostoievsky, his minor work is finer than our major work, and characterized by a passionate curiosity about the human soul and a deep insight into its mysteries. It is idle to argue as to whether these narratives are short stories or brief novels. However we classify them, they are profound revelations of human relationship, and place their author among the great masters of the world's literature. Nor is it pertinent to discuss their technique or lack of it. Their technique is sufficient for the author's purpose, and he has achieved his will nobly in a manner inevitable to him.

Billy Topsail, M.D., by Norman Duncan (Fleming H. Revell Co.). In this posthumous volume Norman Duncan has woven together a selection of his later short stories, in which further adventures of Doctor Luke of the Labrador are chronicled. They represent the very best of his later work, and in them the stern physical conditions with which nature surrounds the life of man provide an admirably rendered background for the portrayal of character developed by circumstance. Norman Duncan can never have a successor, and in "Billy Topsail, M.D." the reader will find him very nearly at his best.

My People by Caradoc Evans (Duffield & Co.). "My People" is a record of the peasantry of West Wales, and these chronicles are set down with a biblical economy of speech that makes for a noteworthy literary style. I refuse to believe that they are a truthful portrait of the folk of whom Mr. Evans writes, but I believe that he has created a real subjective world of his own that is thoroughly convincing. H. G. Wells has written eulogistically of the book and also of the author's novel, "Capel Sion." I appreciate the qualities in the book that have won Mr. Wells' esteem, and the book is indeed memorable. But I believe that its excellence is an artificial excellence, and I commend it to the reader as a work of incomparable artifice rather than as a faithful reflection of life.

In Happy Valley by John Fox, Jr. (Charles Scribner's Sons). Of these ten new chronicles of the Kentucky mountains, gathered from the pages of Scribner's Magazine during the past year for the most part, "His Last Christmas Gift" is the most memorable. But all the stories are brief and vivid vignettes of the countryside which Mr. Fox knows so well, told with the utmost economy of speech and with a fine sense of atmospheric values. These stories are a happy illustration of the better regionalism that is characteristic of contemporary American fiction, and like "Ommirandy" will prove valuable records to a later generation of a life that even now is rapidly passing away.

The War, Madame, by Paul Géraldy (Charles Scribner's Sons). The delicate fantasy of this little story only enhances the poignant tragedy that it discloses. Somehow it suggests a comparison with "Four Days" by Hetty Hemenway, although it is told with greater deftness and a more subtle irony. In these pages pulses the very heart of France, and it is compact of the spirit that has made France a mistress to die for. The translation is admirable.

Collected Poems by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson (The Macmillan Co.). In these noble studies of English social life among the laboring classes Mr. Gibson has collected all of his stories in verse which he wishes to retain in his collected works. He has already become an influence on the work of many of his contemporaries, and the qualities of incisive observation, warm humanity, and subtle art which characterize his best work are adequately disclosed in his poems. I am sure that the reader of short stories will find them as fascinating as any volume of prose published this year, and the sum of all these poems is an English Comédie Humaine which portrays every type of English labor in rich imaginative speech. The dramatic quality of these stories is achieved by virtue of a constant economy of selection, and a nervous singing speech as authentic as that of Synge.

Ommirandy by Armistead C. Gordon (Charles Scribner's Sons). In this collection Mr. Gordon, whose name is so happily associated with that of Thomas Nelson Page, has collected from the files of Scribner's Magazine the deft and insinuating chronicles of negro life on a Virginia plantation which have attracted so much favorable comment in recent years. This collection places Mr. Gordon in the same rank as the author of "Marse' Chan," as a literary artist of the vanished South. These transcripts from the folk life of the people are told very quietly in a persuasive style that reveals a rich poetic sense of human values. The mellow atmosphere of these stories is particularly noteworthy, and Mr. Gordon's instinctive sympathy with his subject has saved him from that spirit of condescension which has been the weakness of so much American folk writing in the past. "Ommirandy" will long remain a happy and honorable tradition in American literature.

The Grim 13, edited by Frederick Stuart Greene (Dodd, Mead & Co.), is a collection of thirteen stories of literary value which have been declined with enthusiastic praise by the editors of American magazines because of their grim quality, or because they have an extremely unhappy ending. The collection was gathered as a test of the public interest, in order to remove if possible what the editor believed to be a false editorial policy. It is interesting to examine these stories, and to pretend that one is an editor. The experiment has been extremely successful and has produced at least one story by an American author ("The Abigail Sheriff Memorial" by Vincent O'Sullivan) and one story by an English author ("Old Fags" by Stacy Aumonier), which are permanent in their literary value.

Four Days: the Story of a War Marriage, by Hetty Hemenway (Little, Brown & Co.). Of this story I have spoken elsewhere in this volume, I shall only add here that it is one of the most significant spiritual studies in fiction that the war has produced, and that it is directly told in a style of sensitive beauty.

A Diversity of Creatures by Rudyard Kipling (Doubleday, Page & Co.) is the first collection of Mr. Kipling's short stories published in several years. I must confess frankly that there is but one story in the volume which seems to me a completely realized rendering of the substance which Mr. Kipling has chosen, and that is the incomparable satire on publicity entitled "The Village That Voted the Earth Was Flat." In this volume you will find many stories in many moods, and some of them are postscripts to earlier volumes of Mr. Kipling. I cannot believe that his war stories deserve as high praise as they have been accorded. This volume presents Mr. Kipling as the most consummate living master of technique in the English tongue, but his inspiration has failed him except for the single exception which I have chronicled. The volume is a memory rather than an actuality, and it has the pathos of a forgotten dream.

The Bracelet of Garnets and Other Stories by Alexander Kuprin, translated by Leo Pasvolsky, with an Introduction by William Lyon Phelps (Charles Scribner's Sons). This collection of stories is based on the author's own selection for this purpose, and although the translation is not thoroughly idiomatic, the sheer poetry of Kuprin's imagination shines through the veil of an alien speech and captures the imagination of the reader. Kuprin's pictorial sense is curiously similar to that of Wilbur Daniel Steele, and it is interesting to study the reactions of similar temperaments on widely different substances and backgrounds. Kuprin achieves a chiselled finality of utterance which is as evident in his tragedy as in his comedy, and in some of these pieces a fine allegorical beauty shines prismatically through a carefully economized brilliance of narrative.

The Prussian Officer and Other Stories by D. H. Lawrence (B. W. Huebsch). The twelve short stories collected in this volume are full of the same warm color that one always associates with Mr. Lawrence's best work, and the nervous complaining beauty of his style makes him the English compeer of Gabriele d'Annunzio. The warm lush fragrance of many European countrysides pervades these stories and a certain poignant sensual disillusionment is insistently stressed by the characters who flit through the shadowy foreground. It is the definitely realized and concrete sense of landscape that Mr. Lawrence has achieved which is his finest artistic attribute, and the sensitive response to light which is so characteristic an element in his vision bathes all the pictures he presents in a rich glow, whose gradations of light and shadow respond finely to the emotional reactions of his characters. He is the most sophisticated of the contemporary English realists, and has the sense of poetry to a high degree which is conspicuously absent in the work of other English novelists.

A Designer of Dawns and Other Tales by Gertrude Russell Lewis (Pilgrim Press). I set this volume of allegories beside "Flame and the Shadow-Eater" by Henrietta Weaver as one of the two best books of allegories published in 1917. These seven little tales have a quiet imaginative glow that is very appealing and I find in them a folk quality that is almost Scandinavian in its naïvete.

The Terror: A Mystery, by Arthur Machen (Robert M. McBride & Co.). When this story was first published in the Century Magazine in 1917, under the title of "The Coming of the Terror," it was at once hailed by discriminating readers as the best short story by an English writer published in an American magazine since "The Friends" by Stacy Aumonier. It is now published in its complete form as originally written, and although it is as long as a short novel, it has an essential unity of incident which justifies us in claiming it as a short story. I suppose that Algernon Blackwood is the only other English writer who has the same gift for making strange spiritual adventures completely real to the imagination, and the author of "The Bowmen" has surpassed even that fine story in this description of how a mysterious terror overran England during the last years of the great war and how the mystery of its passing was finally revealed. The emotional tension of the reader is enhanced by the quiet matter-of-fact air with which the story is presented. The volume is one of the best five or six books of short stories which England has produced during the past year.

The Second Odd Number: Thirteen Tales, by Guy de Maupassant, the translation by Charles Henry White, an Introduction by William Dean Howells (Harper & Brothers). It is reported in some volume of French literary memoirs that Guy de Maupassant regarded the first series of "The Odd Number" as better than the original. Be this as it may, the thirteen stories which make up this volume are admirably rendered with a careful reflection of the slightest nuances. As Mr. Howells states in his introduction to the volume: "The range of these stories is not very great; the effect they make is greater than the range." But this selection has been admirably chosen with a view to making the range as wide as possible, and I can only hope that it will serve to influence some of our younger writers toward a greater descriptive and emotional economy.

The Girl and the Faun by Eden Phillpotts (J. B. Lippincott Co.). These eight idylls of the four seasons are graceful Greek legends told with a modern touch in poetic prose. They have a quality of quiet beauty which will commend them to many readers to whom the more realistic work of Mr. Phillpotts does not appeal, and the admirable illustrations by Frank Brangwyn are a felicitous accompaniment to the modulated prose of Mr. Phillpotts.

Barbed Wire and Other Poems by Edwin Ford Piper (The Midland Press, Moorhead, Minn.). As Grant Showerman's "A Country Chronicle" is an admirable rendering of the farm life of Wisconsin in the seventies, so these poems are a fine imaginative record of the pioneer life of Nebraska a little later. I believe this volume to contain quite as fine poetry as Robert Frost's "North of Boston." Here you will meet many men and women struggling against the loneliness of prairie life, and winning spiritual as well as material conquests out of nature. The greater part of this volume is composed of a series of narrative poems entitled "The Neighborhood." Their lack of literary sophistication is part of their charm, and the calculated ruggedness of the author's style is a faithful reflection of his barren physical background.

Best Russian Short Stories, compiled and edited by Thomas Seltzer (Boni and Liveright). This is the first anthology of Russian short stories which has yet been published in English, and the selections are excellent. There is a wide range of literary art represented in this volume, and the translations are extremely smooth and idiomatic. As is only fitting, the work of Tolstoi, Dostoievsky, Turgenev, and other Russians, whose work is already well known to the American reader, are only represented lightly in the collection, and greater space is devoted to the stories of Chekhov and other writers less familiar to the American public. Nineteen stories are translated from the work of Pushkin, Gogol, Turgenev, Dostoievsky, Tolstoi, Saltykov, Korolenko, Garshin, Chekhov, Sologub, Potapenko, Semyonov, Gorky, Andreyev, Artzybashev, and Kuprin, and the volume is prefixed with an excellent critical introduction by the editor.

A Country Child by Grant Showerman (The Century Co.). This is a sequel to Professor Showerman's earlier volume, "A Country Chronicle." The book is an epic of what a little boy saw and felt and dreamed on a farm in Wisconsin forty years ago, told just as a little boy would tell it. It will help you to remember how you went to the circus and how you stayed up late on your birthday. You will also recall the ball game the day you didn't go home from school, and how you went in swimming, and about that fight with Bill, and ever so many other things which you thought that you had forgotten. I think all the boys and girls that used to write to James Whitcomb Riley should send a birthday letter this year to Grant Showerman, so that he will get it on the 9th of January. Let's start a movement in Wisconsin to have a Showerman Day.

Flame and the Shadow-eater by Henrietta Weaver (Henry Holt & Co.). In these fifteen short allegorical tales Henrietta Weaver has introduced with considerable skill much Persian philosophy, and presented it to the American reader so attractively that it is thoroughly persuasive. Akin in a measure to certain similar stories by Jeannette Marks, they have the same prismatic quality of brilliance and impermanence. I do not believe that the reader who enjoys the poetry of the mind will find these allegories specially esoteric, but I may commend them frankly for their story value, irrespective of the symbols which the author has chosen to attach to them.

The Great Modern French Stories edited by Willard Huntington Wright (Boni and Liveright), Married by August Strindberg (Boni and Liveright), and Visions by Count Ilya Tolstoy (James B. Pond) have reached me too late for extended review. I list them here as three volumes of permanent literary value.

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VOLUMES OF SHORT STORIES PUBLISHED DURING 1917

Note. An asterisk before a title indicates distinction. This list includes single short stories, collections of short stories, and a few continuous narratives based on short stories previously published in magazines.

I. American Authors

Adams, Samuel Hopkins.
*Our Square and the People In It. Houghton-Mifflin.
Bain, R. Nisbet.
*Cossack Fairy Tales. Stokes.
Bangs, John Kendrick.
Half Hours With the Idiot. Little, Brown.
Bassett, Wilbur.
Wander-Ships. Open Court Pub. Co.
Beach, Rex.
Laughing Bill Hyde. Harper.
Bend, Rev. John J.
Stranger than Fiction. Sheehan.
Bottome, Phyllis.
*Derelict, The. Century.
Bradley, William Aspenwall.
*Old Christmas, and Other Kentucky Tales in Verse. Houghton-Mifflin.
Brady, Cyrus Townsend.
Little Book for Christmas, A. Putnam.
Brooks, Alden.
*Fighting Men, The. Scribner.
Brown, Katharine Holland.
*Wages of Honor, The. Scribner.
Brubaker, Howard.
Ranny. Harper.
Brunton, F. Carmichael.
Enchanted Lochan, The. Crowell.
Bunner, H. C.
*More "Short Sixes." Scribner.
*"Short Sixes." Scribner.
Bunts, Frederick Emory.
Soul of Henry Harrington, The. Cleveland: privately printed.
Butler, Ellis Parker.
Dominie Dean. Revell.
Carmichael, M. H.
Pioneer Days. Duffield.
Carter, Charles Franklin.
Stories of the Old Missions of California. Elder.
Chambers, Robert W.
*Barbarians. Appleton.
Cobb, Irvin S.
*Those Times and These. Doran.
Coffin, Julia H.
Vendor of Dreams, The. Dodd, Mead.
*Collier's, Prize Stories From. 5 v. Collier.
Connolly, James B.
*Running Free. Scribner.
Coolidge, Grace.
*Teepee Neighbors. Four Seas.
Crownfield, Gertrude.
Little Tailor of the Winding Way, The. Macmillan.
Davis, Charles Belmont.
Her Own Sort and Others. Scribner.
Davis, Richard Harding.
*Boy Scout, The, and Other Stories. Scribner.
*Deserter, The. Scribner.
Duncan, Norman.
*Billy Topsail, M.D. Revell.
Eells, Elsie Spicer.
*Fairy Tales from Brazil. Dodd, Mead.
Fisher, Fred B.
Gifts from the Desert. Abington Press.
Foote, John Taintor.
Dumb-bell of Brookfield. Appleton.
Ford, Sewell.
Wilt Thou Torchy. Clode.
For France. Doubleday, Page.
Fox, Edward Lyell.
New Gethsemane, The. McBride.
Fox, John, Jr.
*In Happy Valley. Scribner.
Futrelle, Jacques.
Problem of Cell 13, The. Dodd, Mead.
Gordon, Armistead C.
*Ommirandy. Scribner.
Greene, Frederick Stuart, Editor.
*Grim Thirteen, The. Dodd, Mead.
"Hall, Holworthy."
Dormie One. Century.
Hanshew, T. W.
Cleek's Government Cases. Doubleday, Page.
Hemenway, Hetty.
*Four Days. Little, Brown.
"Henry, O."
*Waifs and Strays. Doubleday, Page.
Hines, Jack.
Blue Streak, The. Doran.
Holmes, Mary Caroline.
"Who Follows in Their Train?" Revell.
Hough, Lynn Harold.
Little Old Lady, The.
Hughes, Rupert.
In a Little Town. Harper.
Ingram, Eleanor M.
Twice American, The. Lippincott.
Irwin, Wallace.
Pilgrims Into Folly. Doran.
Jefferson, Charles E.
Land of Enough, The. Crowell.
Johnston, Mary.
*Wanderers, The. Houghton-Mifflin.
Johnston, William.
"Limpy." Little, Brown.
Karr, Louise.
Trouble. Himebaugh and Browne.
Kellerhouse, Lucy Charlton.
*Forest Fancies. Duffield.
Kirk, R. G.
White Monarch and the Gas-House Pup. Little, Brown.
Kirkland, Winifred.
*My Little Town. Dutton.
Lait, Jack.
Gus the Bus and Evelyn, the Exquisite Checker. Doubleday, Page.
Lardner, Ring W.
Gullible's Travels. Bobbs-Merrill.
Leacock, Stephen.
Frenzied Fiction. Lane.
Lewis, Gertrude Russell.
*Designer of Dawns, A. Pilgrim Press.
McClung, Nellie L.
Next of Kin, The. Houghton-Mifflin.
Mackay, Helen.
*Journal of Small Things. Duffield.
Meirovitz, Joseph M.
Path of Error, The. Four Seas Co.
Merwin, Samuel.
Temperamental Henry. Bobbs-Merrill.
Newton, Alma.
Memories. Duffield.
Noble, Edward.
Outposts of the Fleet. Houghton-Mifflin.
O'Brien, Edward J., Editor.
The Best Short Stories of 1916. Small, Maynard.
Osborn, E. B.
Maid with Wings, The. Lane.
Paine, Albert Bigelow.
Mr. Crow and the Whitewash. Harper.
Mr. Rabbit's Wedding. Harper.
Mr. Turtle's Flying Adventure. Harper.
Paine, Ralph D.
Sons of Eli. Scribner.
Perkins, J. R.
Thin Volume, A. Saalfield.
Perry, Montanye.
Where It Touches the Ground. Abingdon Press.
Zerah. Abingdon Press.
Piper, Edwin Ford.
*Barbed Wire and Other Poems. Midland Press.
Putnam, Nina Wilcox.
When the Highbrow Joined the Outfit. Duffield.
Reeve, Arthur B.
Ear in the Wall, The. Hearst.
Treasure Train, The. Harper.
Richmond, Grace S.
Whistling Mother, The. Doubleday, Page.
Rinehart, Mary Roberts.
Bab: A Sub-deb. Doran.
Rodeheaver, Homer.
Song Stories of the Sawdust Trail. Moffat, Yard.
Rosenbach, A. S. W.
Unpublishable Memoirs, The. Kennerley.
Ryder, Arthur W.
*Twenty-two Goblins. Dutton.
Sabin, Edwin L.
How Are You Feeling Now? Little, Brown.
Schayer, E. Richard.
Good Loser, The. McKay.
Scott, Leroy.
Mary Regan. Houghton-Mifflin.
Showerman, Grant.
*Country Child, A. Century.
Steiner, Edward A.
My Doctor Dog. Revell.
Stern, Gertrude.
My Mother and I. Macmillan.
Stitzer, Daniel Ahrens.
Stories of the Occult. Badger.
Stuart, Florence Partello.
Piang, the Moro Jungle Boy. Century.
Taber, Susan.
Optimist, The. Duffield.
"Thanet, Octave."
And the Captain Entered. Bobbs-Merrill.
Thomson, Edward William.
Old Man Savarin Stories. Doran.
Tompkins, Juliet Wilbor.
At the Sign of the Oldest House. Bobbs-Merrill.
Turpin, Edna.
Peggy of Roundabout Lane. Macmillan.
Tuttle, Florence Guertin.
Give My Love to Maria. Abingdon Press.
Van Loan, Charles E.
Old Man Curry. Doran.
Weaver, Henrietta.
*Flame and the Shadow-Eater. Holt.
Willsie, Honoré.
Benefits Forgot. Stokes.

II. English and Irish Authors

Aumonier, Stacy.
*Friends, The, and Two Other Stories. Century.
"Ayscough, John."
*French Windows. Longmans.
Barlow, Jane.
*Irish Idylls. Dodd, Mead.
Bell, J. J.
Cupid in Oilskins. Revell.
*Kiddies. Stokes.
Benson, Edward Frederic.
Freaks of Mayfair, The. Doran.
Blackwood, Algernon.
*Day and Night Stories. Dutton.
Burke, Thomas.
*Limehouse Nights. McBride.
Corkery, Daniel.
*Munster Twilight, A. Stokes.
Cunninghame Graham, R. B.
*Brought Forward. Stokes.
*Charity. Stokes.
*Faith. Stokes.
*Hope. Stokes.
*Progress. Stokes.
*Success. Stokes.
Curle, Richard.
*Echo of Voices. Knopf.
Dawson, Coningsby.
*Seventh Christmas, The. Holt.
Dell, Ethel M.
Safety Curtain, The. Putnam.
Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan.
His Last Bow. Doran.
Dunsany, Lord.
*Dreamer's Tales, A. Boni and Liveright.
*Fifty-one Tales. Little, Brown.
Evans, Caradoc.
*My People. Duffield.
Gate, Ethel M.
*Broom Fairies, The. Yale Univ. Press.
Gibson, Wilfrid Wilson.
*Collected Poems. Macmillan.
Hall, Mordaunt.
Some Naval Yarns. Doran.
Harrison, Cuthbert Woodville.
*Magic of Malaya, The. Lane.
Howard, Keble.
Smiths in War Time, The. Lane.
Jerome, Jerome K.
Street of the Blank Wall, The. Dodd, Mead.
Kipling, Rudyard.
*Diversity of Creatures, A. Doubleday, Page.
Machen, Arthur.
*Terror, The. McBride.
Mason, A. E. W.
*Four Corners of the World, The. Scribner.
Newbolt, Sir Henry.
*Happy Warrior, The. Longmans, Green.
Tales of the Great War. Longmans, Green.
Peacocke, E. M.
Dicky, Knight-Errant. McBride.
Phillpotts, Eden.
*Girl and the Faun, The. Lippincott.
Ransome, Arthur.
*Old Peter's Russian Tales. Stokes.
Rendall, Vernon Horace.
London Nights of Belsize, The. Lane.
"Rohmer, Sax."
Hand of Fu-Manchu, The. McBride.
"Sapper."
*No Man's Land. Doran.
Stacpoole, H. De Vere.
Sea Plunder. Lane.
Swinton, Lieut.-Col. E. D.
Great Tab Dope, The. Doubleday, Page.
"Taffrail."
Sea Spray and Spindrift. Lippincott.
Tree, Sir Herbert Beerbohm.
Nothing Matters. Houghton-Mifflin.
Wren, Percival C.
Young Stagers. Longmans, Green.

III. Translations

Apukhtin, A. (Russian.)
*From Death to Life. Frank.
Artzibashev, Michael Mikhailovich. (Russian.)
*Tales of the Revolution. Huebsch.
Cervantes, Miguel de. (Spanish.)
*Rinconete and Cortadillo. Four Seas.
Chekhov, Anton. (Russian.) (See Tchekhov, Anton.)
*Christmas Tales of Flanders. (Belgian.) Dodd, Mead.
Dostoevsky, Fyodor Mikhailovich. (Russian.)
*Eternal Husband, The. Macmillan.
*Gambler, and Other Stories, The. Macmillan.
France, Anatole. (French.)
*Girls and Boys. Duffield.
*Our Children. Duffield.
Géraldy, Paul. (French.)
*The War, Madame. Scribner.
Ispirescu, Petre. (Rumanian.)
*Foundling Prince, The. Houghton-Mifflin.
Kuprin, Alexander Ivanovich. (Russian.)
*Bracelet of Garnets, The. Scribner.
Maupassant, Guy de. (French.)
*Mademoiselle Fifi. Boni and Liveright.
*Second Odd Number, The. Harper.
Seltzer, Thomas, Editor. (Russian.)
*Best Russian Short Stories, The. Boni and Liveright.
*Shield, The. (Russian.) Knopf.
Strindberg, August. (Swedish.)
*Married. Boni and Liveright.
Sudermann, Hermann. (German.)
*Dame Care. Boni and Liveright.
Tchekhov, Anton. (Russian.)
*Duel, The. Macmillan.
*House with the Mezzanine, The. Scribner.
*Lady with the Dog, The. Macmillan.
*Party, The. Macmillan.
*Rothschild's Fiddle. Boni and Liveright.
*Will o' the Wisp. International Authors' Association.
Tolstoi, Ilya, Count.
*Visions. Pond.
Wright, Willard Huntington, Editor. (French.)
*Great Modern French Stories, The. Boni and Liveright.

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THE BEST SIXTY-THREE AMERICAN SHORT STORIES OF 1917

The sixty-three short stories published in the American magazines during 1917 which I shall discuss in this article are chosen from a larger group of about one hundred and twenty-five stories, whose literary excellence justified me in including them in my annual "Roll of Honor." The stories, which are included in this Roll of Honor have been chosen from the stories published in about sixty-five American periodicals during 1917. In selecting them, I have sought to accept the author's point of view and manner of treatment, and to measure simply the degree of success he had in doing what he set out to achieve. But I must confess that it has been difficult to eliminate personal admiration completely in the further winnowing which has resulted in this selection of sixty-three stories. Below are set forth the particular qualities which have seemed to me to justify in each case the inclusion of a story in this list.

1. The Excursion by Edwina Stanton Babcock (The Pictorial Review) is in my belief one of the best five American short stories of the year. It is significant because of its faithful and imaginative rendering of American folk-life, because of its subtle characterization, and the successful manner in which it reveals the essentially racy humor of the American countryside with the utmost economy of means. The characterization is achieved almost entirely through dialogue, and the portraiture of the characters is rendered inimitably in a phrase or two. In this story, as well as in "The Band," Miss Babcock has earned the right to a place beside Francis Buzzell as a regional story writer, fairly comparable to John Trevena's renderings of Dartmoor.

2. The Brothers by Thomas Beer (The Century Magazine) will remind the reader in some respects of Frederick Stuart Greene's story, "The Black Pool," published in "The Grim 13." But apart from a superficial resemblance in the substance with which both writers deal, the two stories are more notable in their differences than in their resemblances. If "The Brothers" is less inevitable than "The Black Pool," it is perhaps a more sophisticated work of art, and I am not sure but that its conclusion and the resolution of character that it involves is not more artistically convincing than the end of "The Black Pool." It is certainly a memorable first story by a new writer and would of itself be enough to make a reputation. Mr. Beer is the most original new talent that the Century Magazine has discovered since Stacy Aumonier.

3. Onnie by Thomas Beer (The Century Magazine) has a certain stark faithfulness which makes of somewhat obvious material an extremely vivid and freshly felt rendering of life. There is a certain quality of observation in the story which we are accustomed to think of as a Gallic rather than an American trait. I think that Mr. Beer has slightly broadened his canvas where greater restraint and less cautious use of suggestion would have better answered his purpose. But "Onnie" is a better story than "The Brothers" to my mind, and Mr. Beer, by virtue of these two stories, is one of the two or three most interesting new talents of the year.

4. Ironstone by Phyllis Bottome (The Century Magazine). To those who have enjoyed in recent years the admirable social comedy and deft handling of English character to which Miss Bottome has accustomed us, "Ironstone" must have come as a surprise in its revelation of a new aspect in the author's talent, akin to the kind of tale which is found at its best as a "middle" in the London Nation. It compresses the emotion of a Greek drama into a space of perhaps four thousand words. I find that the closing dialogue in this story is as certain in its march as the closing pages of "Riders to the Sea," and the katharsis is timeless in its final solution.

5. From Hungary by "John Breck" (The Bookman) is perhaps not to be classified as a short story, but the academic limitations of the short story have never interested me greatly, and in its own field this short fiction sketch is memorable. Its secret is the secret of atmosphere rather than speech, but atmosphere here becomes human in its reality and the resultant effect is not unlike that of "When Hannah Var Eight Yar Old" by Miss Girling, which appeared in the Atlantic Monthly a few years ago. "John Breck," or Elizabeth C. A. Smith, to reveal her authorship, has found complete embodiment for her conception in this story for the first time, and it is a promise for a vivid and interesting future.

6. The Flying Teuton by Alice Brown (Harper's Magazine) is the best short story that has come out of this war as yet in either English or American magazines. Accepting the old legend of the Flying Dutchman, Miss Brown has imagined it reëmbodied in a modern setting, and out of the ironies of this situation a most dramatic story results with a sure and true message for the American people. It is in my opinion one of the five best short stories of the year, and I am happy to say that it will soon be accessible to the public once more in book form.

7. Closed Doors, and 8. A Cup of Tea by Maxwell Struthers Burt (both in Scribner's Magazine). In these two stories, and in "The Glory of the Wild Green Earth," "John O'May," and "Le Panache," all of which appeared in Scribner's Magazine during the past year, a place is made for the author among American short story writers beside that of Mrs. Gerould, Wilbur Daniel Steele, and H. G. Dwight. Two years ago I had the pleasure of reprinting his first short story, "The Water-Hole," in "The Best Short Stories of 1915." I thought at that time that Mr. Burt would eventually do fine things, but I never suspected that, in the short period of two years, he would win for himself so important a place in contemporary American letters. Mr. Burt's technique is still a trifle over-sophisticated, but I suppose this is a fault on virtue's side. A collection of Mr. Burt's short stories in book form should be anxiously awaited by the American public.

9. Lonely Places, and 10. The Long Vacation by Francis Buzzell (The Pictorial Review). The attentive reader of American fiction must have already noted two memorable stories by Francis Buzzell published in previous years, "Addie Erb and Her Girl Lottie" and "Ma's Pretties." These two stories won for Mr. Buzzell an important position as an American folk-writer, and this position is amply sustained by the two fine stories which he has published during the past year. His imaginative realism weaves poignant beauty out of the simplest and most dusty elements in life, and it is my belief that it is along the lines of his method and that of Miss Babcock that America is most likely eventually to contribute something distinctively national to the world's literary culture.

11. The Mistress by Fleta Campbell (Harper's Bazar) is a most highly polished and sharply outlined story of the war. It makes an art out of coldness in narration which serves to emphasize and bring out by contrast the human warmth of the story's substance.

12. The Foundling by Gunnar Cederschiöld (Collier's Weekly). Readers who recall the fine series of stories by Alden Brooks published during the past two years in Collier's Weekly and the Century Magazine will find in "The Foundling" a story equally memorable as a ruthless portrayal of the effects of war. Whether one approves or disapproves in general of the ending is irrelevant in this case. This story must take its place as one of the best dozen stories of the war.

13. Boys Will Be Boys, 14. The Family Tree, and 15. Quality Folks by Irvin S. Cobb (all in the Saturday Evening Post). It is seven years since Irvin Cobb published his first short story, "The Escape of Mr. Trimm," in the Saturday Evening Post. During that short period he has passed from the position of an excellent journalist to that of America's most representative humorist, in the truer meaning of that word. Upon him the mantle of Mark Twain has descended, and with that mantle he has inherited the artistic virtues and the utter inability to criticize his own work that was so characteristic of Mr. Clemens. But the very gusto of his creative work has been shaping his style during the past two years to a point where he may now fairly claim to have mastered his material, and to have found the most effective human persuasiveness in its presentation. Our grandchildren will read these three stories, and thank God that there was a man named Cobb once born in Paducah, Kentucky.

16. Laughter (Harper's Magazine), and 17. Our Dog (Pictorial Review) by Charles Caldwell Dobie. The rapid rise of Mr. Dobie in less than two years from the date when his first short story was published challenges comparison with the similar career of Maxwell Struthers Burt. As Mr. Burt's art has its analogies with that of Mrs. Gerould, so Mr. Dobie's art has its analogies with that of Wilbur Daniel Steele. I am not certain that Mr. Dobie's talent is not essentially that of a novel-writer, but certainly at least four of the short stories which he has published during the past year are notable artistic achievements in widely different moods. If tragedy prevails, it is purified by a fine spiritual idealism, which takes symbols and makes of them something more human than a mere allegory. If an American publisher were courageous enough to start publishing a series of volumes of short stories by contemporary American writers, he could not do better than to begin with a selection of Mr. Dobie's tales.

18. A Little Nipper of Hide-an'-Seek Harbor by Norman Duncan (Pictorial Review). This story has a melancholy interest, because it was the last story sold by its author before his sudden death last year. But it would have been remembered for its own sake as the last and not the least important of the long series of Newfoundland sagas which Mr. Duncan has given us. It shows that Norman Duncan kept his artistic vigor to the last, and those who know Newfoundland can testify that such stories as these will always remain its most permanent literary record.

19. The Emperor of Elam by H. G. Dwight (The Century Magazine). Those who have read Mr. Dwight's volume of short stories entitled "Stamboul Nights" do not need to be told that Mr. Dwight is the one American short story writer whom we may confidently set beside Joseph Conrad as a master in a similar literary field. American editors have been diffident about publishing his stories for reasons which cast more discredit on the American editor than on Mr. Dwight, and accordingly it is a genuine pleasure to encounter "The Emperor of Elam," and to chronicle the hardihood of the editor of the Century Magazine. The story is a modern odyssey of adventure, set as usual in the Turkish background with which Mr. Dwight is most familiar. In it atmosphere is realized completely for its own sake, and as a motive power urging the lives of his characters to their inevitable end.

20. The Gay Old Dog by Edna Ferber (Metropolitan Magazine) is in my opinion the big story which "The Eldest" was not. It is my belief that Edna Ferber is a novelist first and a short story writer afterwards, but in "The Gay Old Dog" she has accepted a theme which can best be handled in the short story form and has made the most of it artistically, much as Fannie Hurst has done in all of her better stories. Miss Ferber has not sentimentalized her substance as she does most often, but has let it remain at its true valuation.

21. Bread-Crumbs by Waldo Frank (Seven Arts Magazine). I cannot help feeling that this is an extremely well written and honestly conceived story whose substance is essentially false, but the author has apparently persuaded himself of its truth and presents it almost convincingly to the reader. Be this as it may, Mr. Frank has not failed to make his two characters real for us, and the poignancy of their final revelation is certainly genuine. Mr. Frank, however, should save such material as this for longer fiction, as his method is essentially that of a novelist.

22. Pearls Before Swine by Cornelia Throop Geer (Atlantic Monthly). With a quiet and somewhat reticent art, the author of this story has succeeded in deftly conveying to her readers a delicate pastoral scene of innocence reflecting the dreams of two little Irish children. It was a difficult feat to attempt, as few can safely reproduce the atmosphere of an alien race successfully, and, even to Irish-Americans, Ireland cannot be sufficiently realized for creative embodiment. I am told that a volume of Irish stories is promised from the pen of Miss Geer, and it should take its place with the better folk stories of modern Irish life. Miss Geer's method is the result of identification with, rather than condescension toward, her subject.

23. East of Eden (Harper's Magazine), 24. The Hand of Jim Fane (Harper's Magazine), 25. The Knight's Move (Atlantic Monthly), 26. The Wax Doll (Scribner's Magazine), and 27. What They Seem (Harper's Magazine) by Katharine Fullerton Gerould. In these five short stories Mrs. Gerould amply sustains her claim to rank as one of the three most distinguished contemporary writers of the American short story. Preoccupied as she is with the subtle rendering of abnormal psychological situations, her work is in the great traditional line whose last completely adequate exponent was Henry James. One and all, these stories have the fascination of strange spiritual adventure, and the persuasiveness of her exposition conceals inimitably the closely woven craftsmanship of her work. Of these five stories, "The Knight's Move" and "East of Eden" surely represent a development in her art which it will be almost impossible for her to surpass.

28. Dare's Gift by Ellen Glasgow (Harper's Magazine). I prefer to beg the question whether this is a short story or a very short novel. It certainly has the unity of a well-defined spiritual incident, and if one recalls its substance, it is only to view it as a completely rounded whole. As such it is surely as fine a study of the influence of place as Mrs. Wharton's "Kerfol" or Mrs. Pangborn's "Bixby's Bridge." The brooding atmosphere of a house mindful of its past and reacting upon successive inmates morally, or perhaps immorally, has seldom been more faithfully rendered.

29. The Hearing Ear (Harper's Magazine), and 30. A Jury of Her Peers (Every Week) by Susan Glaspell. It is always interesting to study the achievement of a novelist who has won distinction deservedly in that field, when that novelist attempts the very different technique of the short story. It is particularly interesting in the case of Susan Glaspell, because with these two stories she convinces the reader that her future really lies in the short story rather than in the novel. Few American writers have such a natural dramatic story sense, and to this Susan Glaspell has added an increasing reticence in the portrayal of her characters. In these two stories you will not find the slightest sentimentalization of her subject matter, nor is it keyed so tightly as some of her previous work. "A Jury of Her Peers" is one of the better folk stories of the year, sharing that distinction with "The Excursion" by Miss Babcock and the two stories by Francis Buzzell, of which I have spoken above.

31. His Father's Flag by Armistead C. Gordon (Scribner's Magazine). The many readers who have revelled in Mr. Gordon's admirable portraits of Virginia negro plantation life will be surprised and gratified at Mr. Gordon's venture in this story into a new field. This story has all the infectious emotional feeling of memory recalling glorious things, and I can only compare it for its spiritual fidelity toward a cause to the stories by Elsie Singmaster which she has gathered into her volume about Gettysburg, and particularly to that fine story, "The Survivors."

32. The Bunker Mouse, and 33. "Molly McGuire, Fourteen" by Frederick Stuart Greene (The Century Magazine). Captain Greene's story "The Cat of the Cane-Brake" attracted so much attention at the time of its publication in the Metropolitan Magazine a year ago that it is interesting to find him achieving high distinction in other imaginative fields. Captain Greene's natural gift of narrative is the result of a strong impulse toward creative expression, which molds its form a little self-consciously, but convincingly, for the most part. I think that he is at his best in these two stories rather than in "The Cat of the Cane-Brake" and "The Black Pool," because they are based upon a more direct apprehension and experience of life. "Molly McGuire, Fourteen" adds one more tradition to those of the Virginia Military Institute.

34. Rainbow Pete by Richard Matthews Hallet (The Pictorial Review) reveals the author in his most incorrigibly romantic mood. Mr. Hallet casts glamour over his creations, partly through his detached and pictorial perception of life, and partly through the magic of his words. He has been compared to Conrad, and in a lesser way he has much in common with the author of "Lord Jim," but his artistic method is essentially different and quite as individual.

35. Frazee by Lee Foster Hartman (Harper's Magazine). Mr. Hartman has been a good friend to other story writers for so long that we had begun to forget how fine an artist he can be himself. In "Frazee" he has taken a subject which would have fascinated Mrs. Gerould and handled it with reserve and power. It is pitched in a quieter key than is usual in such a story, and the result is that character merges with atmosphere almost imperceptibly. I regard the story as almost a model of construction for students of short story writing.

36. Four Days by Hetty Hemenway (Atlantic Monthly). This remarkable story of the spiritual effect of the war upon two young people was so widely commented upon, not only after its appearance in the Atlantic Monthly, but later when it was republished in book form, that I shall only commend it to the reader here as an artistically woven study in war psychology.

37. Get Ready the Wreaths by Fannie Hurst (Cosmopolitan Magazine). The artistic qualities in Miss Hurst's work which have commended themselves to such disinterested critics as Mr. Howells are revealed once more in this story, in which Miss Hurst accepts the shoddiness of background which characterizes her literary types, and reveals the fine human current that runs beneath it all. I am not sure that Miss Hurst has not diluted her substance a little too much during the past year, and in any case that danger is implicit in her method. But in "Get Ready the Wreaths" the emotional validity of her substance is absolutely unimpeachable and her handling of the situation it presents is adequate and fine.

38. Journey's End by Percy Adams Hutchison (Harper's Magazine). An attentive reader of the American short stories during the past few years may have observed with interest at rare intervals the work of Mr. Hutchison. In it there was always a promise of an achievement not unlike that of Perceval Gibbon, but a certain looseness of texture prevented Mr. Hutchison from being completely persuasive. In "Journey's End," however, it must be confessed that he has written a memorable sea story that is certainly equal at least to the better stories in Mr. Kipling's latest volume.

39. The Strange-Looking Man by Fanny Kemble Johnson (The Pagan). I suppose that this story is to be regarded as a sketch rather than a short story, but in any case it is a vividly rendered picture of war's effects portrayed with subtle irony and quiet art. I associate it with "Chautonville" by Will Levington Comfort, and "The Flying Teuton" by Alice Brown, as one of the three stories with the most authentic spiritual message in American fiction that the war has produced.

40. The Sea-Turn by E. Clement James (The Seven Arts). In this study of the spiritual reactions of a starved environment upon an imaginative mind, Mrs. Jones has added a convincing character portrait to American letters which ranks with the better short stories of J. D. Beresford in a similar genre. The story is in the same tradition as that of the younger English realists, but it is an essential contribution to our nationalism, and as such helps to point the way toward the future in which a true national literature must find its only and inevitable realization.

41. The Caller in the Night by Burton Kline (The Stratford Journal). I believe that Mr. Kline has completely realized in this story a fine imaginative situation and has presented a folk story with a significant legendary quality. It is in the tradition of Hawthorne, but the substance with which Mr. Kline deals is the substance of his own people, and consequently that in which his creative impulse has found the freest scope. It may be compared to its own advantage with "The Lost Phoebe" by Theodore Dreiser, which was equally memorable among the folk-stories of 1916, and the comparison suggests that in both cases the author's training as a novelist has not been to his disadvantage as a short-story teller.

42. When Did You Write Your Mother Last? by Addison Lewis (Reedy's Mirror). This is the only story I have read in three years in which it seemed to me that I found the authentic voice of "O. Henry" speaking. Mr. Lewis has been publishing a series of these "Tales While You Wait" in Reedy's Mirror during the past few months, and I should much prefer them to those of Jack Lait for the complete success with which he has achieved his aims. Imitation of "O. Henry" has been the curse of American story-telling for the past ten years, because "O. Henry" is practically inimitable. Mr. Lewis is not an imitator, but he may well prove before very long to be "O. Henry's" successor. In the words of Padna Dan and Micus Pat, "Here's the chance for some one to make a discovery."

43. Widow La Rue by Edgar Lee Masters (Reedy's Mirror). This is the best short story in verse that the year has produced, and as literature it realizes in my belief even greater imaginative fulfilment than "Spoon River Anthology." I should have most certainly wished to include it in "The Best Short Stories of 1917" had it been in prose, and it adds one more unforgettable legend to our folk imagination.

44. The Understudy by Johnson Morton (Harper's Magazine) is an ironic character study developed with much finesse in the tradition of Henry James. Its defect is a certain conventional atmosphere which demands an artificial attitude on the part of the reader. Its admirable distinction is its faithful rendering of a personality not unlike the "Tante" of Anne Douglas Sedgwick, if a novel portrait and a short story portrait may fittingly be compared. If the portraiture is unpleasant, it is at any rate rendered with incisive kindliness.

45. The Heart of Life by Meredith Nicholson (Scribner's Magazine). Mr. Nicholson has treated an old theme freshly in "The Heart of Life" and discovered in it new values of contrasting character. Among his short stories it stands out as notably as "A Hoosier Chronicle" among his novels. It is in such work as this that Mr. Nicholson justifies his calling, and it is by them that he has most hope of remembrance in American literature.

46. Murder? by Seumas O'Brien (The Illustrated Sunday Magazine). With something of Hardy's stark rendering of atmosphere, Mr. O'Brien has portrayed a grim situation unforgettably. Woven out of the simplest elements, and with an entire lack of literary sophistication, his story is fairly comparable to the work of Daniel Corkery, whose volume, "A Munster Twilight," has interested me more than any other volume of short stories published in America this year. The story is of particular interest because Mr. O'Brien's reputation as an artist has been based solely upon his work as a satirist and Irish fabulist.

47. The Interval by Vincent O'Sullivan (Boston Evening Transcript). It is odd to reflect that a literary artist of Mr. O'Sullivan's distinction is not represented in American magazines during 1917 at all, and that it has been left to a daily newspaper to publish his work. In "The Interval," Mr. O'Sullivan has sought to suggest the spiritual effect of the war upon a certain type of mind. He has rendered with faithful subtleness the newly aroused longing for religious belief or some form of concrete spiritual expression that bereavement brings. This state has a pathos of its own that the author adequately realizes in his story, and his irony in portraying it is Gallic in its quality.

48. Bixby's Bridge by Georgia Wood Pangborn (Harper's Magazine). Mrs. Pangborn is well known for her artistic stories of the supernatural, and this will rank among the very best of them. She shares with Algernon Blackwood that gift for making spiritual illusion real which is so rare in contemporary work. What is specially distinctive is her gift of selection, by which she brings out the most illusive psychological contrasts.

49. "A Certain Rich Man—," by Lawrence Perry (Scribner's Magazine). I find in this story an emotional quality keyed up as tightly, but as surely, as in the best short stories by Mary Synon. Remote as its substance may seem, superficially, it touches the very heart of the experience that the war has brought to us all, and reveals the naked stuff out of which our war psychology has emerged.

50. The Portrait by Emery Pottle (The Touchstone). This study in Italian backgrounds is by another disciple of Henry James, who portrays with deft sure touches the nostalgia of an American girl unhappily married to an Italian nobleman. It just fails of complete persuasiveness because it is a trifle overstrung, but nevertheless it is memorable for its artistic sincerity.

51. The Path of Glory by Mary Brecht Pulver (Saturday Evening Post). This story of how distinction came to a poor family in the mountains through the death of their son in the French army is simply told with a quiet, unassuming earnestness that makes it very real. It marks a new phase of Mrs. Pulver's talent, and one which promises her a richer fulfilment in the future than her other stories have suggested. Time and time again I have been impressed this year by the folk quality that is manifest in our younger writers, and what is most encouraging is that, when they write of the poor and the lowly, there is less of that condescension toward their subject than has been characteristic of American folk-writing in the past.

52. Miss Fothergill by Norval Richardson (Scribner's Magazine). The tradition in English fiction, which is most signally marked by "Pride and Prejudice," "Cranford," and "Barchester Towers," and which was so pleasantly continued by the late Dr. S. Weir Mitchell and by Margaret Deland, is admirably embodied in the work of this writer, whose work should be better known. The quiet blending of humor and pathos in "Miss Fothergill" is unusual.

53. The Scar That Tripled by William Gunn Shepherd (Metropolitan Magazine) is none the less truly a remarkable short story because it happens to be based on fact. "The Deserter" was the last fine short story written by the late Richard Harding Davis, and "The Scar That Tripled" is the engrossing narrative of the adventure which suggested that story. Personally, I regard it as superior to "The Deserter."

54. A Country Christmas by Grant Showerman (Century Magazine). Professor Showerman's country chronicles are now well known to American readers, and this is quite the best of them. These sketches rank with those of Hamlin Garland as a permanent and delightful record of a pioneer life that has passed away for ever. Their deliberate homeliness and consistent reflection of a small boy's attitude toward life have no equal to my knowledge.

55. The Christmas Angel (The Pictorial Review), and 56. The Flag of Eliphalet (Boston Evening Transcript) by Elsie Singmaster add two more portraits to the pleasant gallery of Elsie Singmaster's vivid creations. Although her vein is a narrow one, no one is more competent than she in its expression, and few surpass her in the faithful rendering of homely but none the less real spiritual circumstance.

57. The End of the Road by Gordon Arthur Smith (Scribner's Magazine) is a sequel to "Feet of Gold" and chronicles the further love adventures of Ferdinand Taillandy, and their tragic conclusion. In these two stories Mr. Smith has proven his literary kinship with Leonard Merrick, and these stories surely rank with the chronicles of Tricotrin and Pitou.

58. Ching, Ching, Chinaman (Pictorial Review), 59. Ked's Hand (Harper's Magazine), 60. White Hands (Pictorial Review), and 61. The Woman at Seven Brothers (Harper's Magazine) by Wilbur Daniel Steele. With these four stories, together with "A Devil of a Fellow," "Free," and "A Point of Honor," Mr. Steele assumes his rightful place with Katharine Fullerton Gerould and H. G. Dwight as a leader in American fiction. "Ching, Ching, Chinaman," "White Hands," and "The Woman at Seven Brothers" are, in my belief, the three best short stories that were published in 1917, by an American author, and I may safely predict their literary permanence. Mr. Steele's extraordinary gift for presenting action and spiritual conflict pictorially is unrivalled, and his sense of human mystery has a rich tragic humor akin to that of Thomas Hardy, though his philosophy of life is infinitely more hopeful.

62. None so Blind by Mary Synon (Harper's Magazine) is a study in tragic circumstance, the more powerful because it is so reticently handled. It is Miss Synon's first profound study in feminine psychology, and reveals an unusual sense of emotional values. Few backgrounds have been more subtly rendered in their influence upon character, and the action of the story is inevitable despite its character of surprise.

63. The Scar by Elisabeth Stead Taber (The Seven Arts). The brutal realism of this story may repel the reader, but its power and convincing quality cannot be gainsaid. So many writers have followed John Fox's example in writing about the mountaineers of the Alleghanies, that it is gratifying to chronicle so exceptional a story as this. It is as inevitable in its ugliness as "The Cat of the Cane-Brake" by Frederick Stuart Greene, and psychologically it is far more convincing.

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MAGAZINE AVERAGES FOR 1917

The following table includes the averages of American periodicals published during 1917. One, two, and three asterisks are employed to indicate relative distinction. "Three-asterisk stories" are of somewhat permanent literary value. The list excludes reprints.

PERIODICALS	NO. OF STORIES PUBLISHED	NO. OF DISTINCTIVE STORIES PUBLISHED			PERCENTAGE OF DISTINCTIVE STORIES PUBLISHED
		*	* *	* * *	*	* *	* * *
American Magazine	54	25	3	1	46	6	2
Atlantic Monthly	20	17	11	5	85	55	25
Bellman	47	34	17	2	72	36	4
Bookman	5	5	4	1	100	80	20
Boston Evening Transcript	6	6	6	2	100	100	33
Century	50	40	29	17	80	58	34
Collier's Weekly	108	51	22	3	47	20	3
Delineator	46	18	5	2	39	11	4
Everybody's Magazine	45	26	7	3	58	15	7
Every Week	87	18	5	2	21	6	2
Forum	6	4	1	1	67	17	17
Good Housekeeping	40	12	9	5	30	23	13
Harper's Magazine	80	64	39	27	80	49	34
Illustrated Sunday Magazine	25	10	4	1	40	16	4
Ladies' Home Journal	33	11	4	1	33	12	3
Masses (except Oct. and Nov.)	11	6	3	0	54	27	0
McClure's Magazine	45	9	4	2	20	9	4
Metropolitan	43	16	8	5	37	19	12
Midland	22	21	17	2	95	77	9
New Republic	5	5	2	1	100	40	20
New York Tribune	30	22	7	4	73	23	13
Outlook	18	10	8	1	56	44	6
Pagan	11	8	8	4	72	72	36
Pictorial Review	42	26	18	14	62	43	33
Reedy's Mirror	32	18	10	3	56	31	9
Saturday Evening Post	235	62	25	7	21	11	3
Scribner's Magazine	65	52	31	16	80	48	25
Seven Arts	23	22	19	14	96	83	69
Smart Set	107	22	12	3	20	11	3
Stratford Journal	10	10	10	9	100	100	90
Sunset Magazine	32	6	0	0	19	0	0
Touchstone	15	15	10	2	100	67	13

The following tables indicate the rank, during 1917, by number and percentage of distinctive stories published, of the nineteen periodicals coming within the scope of my examination which have published during the past year over twenty-five stories and which have exceeded an average of 15% in stories of distinction. The lists exclude reprints.

BY PERCENTAGE OF DISTINCTIVE STORIES
1.	Harper's Magazine	80%
2.	Scribner's Magazine	80%
3.	Century Magazine	80%
4.	New York Tribune	73%
5.	Bellman	72%
6.	Pictorial Review	62%
7.	Everybody's Magazine	58%
8.	Reedy's Mirror	56%
9.	Collier's Weekly	47%
10.	American Magazine	46%
11.	Delineator	39%
12.	Metropolitan Magazine	37%
13.	Ladies' Home Journal	33%
14.	Good Housekeeping	30%
15.	Saturday Evening Post	21%
16.	Every Week	21%
17.	Smart Set	20%
18.	McClure's Magazine	20%
19.	Sunset Magazine	19%
BY NUMBER OF DISTINCTIVE STORIES
1.	Harper's Magazine	64
2.	Saturday Evening Post	62
3.	Scribner's Magazine	52
4.	Collier's Weekly	51
5.	Century Magazine	40
6.	Bellman	34
7.	Everybody's Magazine	26
8.	Pictorial Review	26
9.	American Magazine	25
10.	New York Tribune	22
11.	Smart Set	22
12.	Reedy's Mirror	18
13.	Delineator	18
14.	Every Week	18
15.	Metropolitan Magazine	16
16.	Good Housekeeping	12
17.	Ladies' Home Journal	11
18.	McClure's Magazine	9
19.	Sunset Magazine	6

The following periodicals have published during 1917 ten or more "two-asterisk stories." The list excludes reprints. Periodicals represented in this list during 1915 as well are indicated by an asterisk. Periodicals represented in this list during 1916 are indicated by a dagger.

1.	*†Harper's Magazine	39
2.	*†Scribner's Magazine	31
3.	*†Century Magazine	29
4.	*†Saturday Evening Post	25
5.	*†Collier's Weekly	20
6.	Seven Arts	19
7.	†Pictorial Review	18
8.	Midland	17
9.	*†Bellman	17
10.	*†Smart Set	12
11.	Atlantic Monthly	11
12.	Touchstone	10

The following periodicals have published during 1917 five or more "three-asterisk stories." The list excludes reprints. Periodicals represented in this list during 1915 as well are indicated by an asterisk. Periodicals represented in this list during 1916 are indicated by a dagger.

1.	*†Harper's Magazine	27
2.	*†Century Magazine	17
3.	*†Scribner's Magazine	16
4.	Seven Arts	14
5.	†Pictorial Review	14
6.	Stratford Journal	9
7.	*†Saturday Evening Post	7
8.	Atlantic Monthly	5
9.	*Metropolitan	5
10.	Good Housekeeping	5

Ties in the above lists have been decided by taking relative rank in other lists into account.

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INDEX OF SHORT STORIES FOR 1917

All short stories published in the following magazines and newspapers during 1917 are indexed.

American Magazine
Atlantic Monthly
Bellman
Bookman
Boston Evening Transcript
Century
Collier's Weekly
Current Opinion
Delineator
Everybody's Magazine
Every Week
Forum
Harper's Magazine
Illustrated Sunday Magazine
Ladies' Home Journal
Little Review (except Oct.)
Masses (Jan.-Sept.)
McClure's Magazine
Metropolitan
Midland
New Republic
New York Tribune
Outlook
Pictorial Review
Poetry
Pagan
Reedy's Mirror
Russian Review (Jan.-July)
Saturday Evening Post
Scribner's Magazine
Seven Arts
Stratford Journal
Sunset Magazine
Touchstone
Yale Review

The October and November issues of the Masses are not listed, as they were not procurable through ordinary channels. The October issue of the Russian Review was not yet published when this book went to press. The October issue of the Little Review was withdrawn from circulation before it could come to my notice.

Short stories, of distinction only, published in the following magazines and newspapers during 1917 are indexed.

Black Cat
Boston Herald
Colonnade
Cosmopolitan
Good Housekeeping
Harper's Bazar
Hearst's Magazine
Live Stories
McCall's Magazine
Milestones
Munsey's Magazine
Parisienne
Pearson's Magazine
Short Stories
Smart Set
Snappy Stories
Southern Woman's Magazine
To-day's Housewife
Woman's Home Companion
Youth's Companion

Certain stories of distinction published in the following magazines and newspapers during 1917 are indexed, because they have been called to my attention by authors or readers.

All-Story Weekly
Art World
Ainslee's Magazine
Dernier Cri
Detective Story Magazine
Los Angeles Times
Queen's Work
Saucy Stories
Top-Notch Magazine
Woman's World
Young's Magazine

The Red Book Magazine is not represented in these lists, in deference to the wishes of its editor, who sent me the following telegram: "We prefer not to be listed."

One, two, or three asterisks are prefixed to the titles of stories to indicate distinction. Three asterisks prefixed to a title indicate the more or less permanent literary value of a story, and entitle it to a place on the annual "Rolls of Honor." An asterisk before the name of an author indicates that he is not an American.

The following abbreviations are used in the index:—

Ain.	Ainslee's Magazine
All.	All-Story Weekly
Am.	American Magazine
Atl.	Atlantic Monthly
Art W.	Art World
B. C.	Black Cat
Bel.	Bellman
B. E. T.	Boston Evening Transcript
B. Her.	Boston Herald
Cen.	Century
C. O.	Current Opinion
Col.	Collier's Weekly
Colon.	Colonnade
Cos.	Cosmopolitan
Del.	Delineator
Det.	Detective Story Magazine
Ev.	Everybody's Magazine
E. W.	Every Week
For.	Forum
G. H.	Good Housekeeping
Harp. B.	Harper's Bazar
Harp. M.	Harper's Magazine
Hear.	Hearst's Magazine
I. S. M.	Illustrated Sunday Magazine
L. A. Times.	Los Angeles Times
L. H. J.	Ladies' Home Journal
Lit. R.	Little Review
L. St.	Live Stories
McC.	McClure's Magazine
McCall	McCall's Magazine
Met.	Metropolitan
Mid.	Midland
Mir.	Reedy's Mirror
Mun.	Munsey's Magazine
N. Rep.	New Republic
N. Y. Trib.	New York Tribune
Outl.	Outlook
Pag.	Pagan
Par.	Parisienne
Pear.	Pearson's Magazine
Pict. R.	Pictorial Review
Q. W.	Queen's Work
(R.)	(Reprint)
Rus. R.	Russian Review
Sau. St.	Saucy Stories
Scr.	Scribner's Magazine
S. E. P.	Saturday Evening Post
Sev. A.	Seven Arts
Sh. St.	Short Stories
Sn. St.	Snappy Stories
So. Wo. M.	Southern Woman's Magazine
S. S.	Smart Set
Strat. J.	Stratford Journal
Sun.	Sunset Magazine
To-day	To-day's Housewife
Top-Notch	Top-Notch Magazine
Touch.	Touchstone
W. H. C.	Woman's Home Companion
Wom. W.	Woman's World
Yale	Yale Review
Y. C.	Youth's Companion
Young	Young's Magazine

A
Abbott, Frances C.
**Memorial Window, The. Del. Nov.
Mrs. Bodkin's Début. Del. June.
*Abdullah, Achmed. (Achmend Abdullah Nadir Khan el-Durani
el-Iddrissyeh.) ("A. A. Nadir.") (1881- .)
(See 1915 and 1916.)
(See also Uzzell, Thomas H., and Abdullah,
Achmed.)
*As He Reaped. Ain. July.
*Consider the Oath of M'Taga. All. March 10.
*Disappointment. All. May 19.
*East or West? Top-Notch. April 15.
*Five-Dollar Gold-Piece, The. Sn. St. Dec. 18.
**Gamut, The. S. S. Dec.
**Gentlemen of the Old Régime, A. S. S. Feb.
*Guerdon, The. S. S. Feb.
**Home-Coming, The. Harp. M. May.
**Letter, The. S. S. Jan.
**Silence. All. April 21.
Adams, Katharine.
*"Silent Brown." So. Wo. M. Oct.
Adams, Minnie Barbour. (See 1916.)
*Half a Boy. Pict. R. Sept.
Adams, Samuel Hopkins. (1871- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Letter to Nowhere, A. E. W. Feb. 12.
*Little Red Doctor of Our Square, The. Col Aug. 25.
*Meanest Man in Our Square, The. Col. March 24.
*Paula of the Housetop. Col. July 7.
*Room "12 A." Ev. Nov.
"Wamble: His Day Out." Col. Jan. 13.
Adler, Henry.
Coward, The. Pag. Sept.
*Aicard, Jean. (1848- .)
*Mariette's Gift. N. Y. Trib. Feb. 18.
Alexander, Mary.
Ashamed of Her Parents. Del. Nov.
Girl Who Is Not Popular, The. Del. May.
How Can I Meet the Right Sort of Men? Del. March.
Out of Touch With Life. Del. Oct.
Too Sure of Herself. Del. July.
When She Runs After the Boys. Del. Aug.
Allen, Frederick Lewis. (See 1915.)
Big Game. Cen. March.
Fixing Up the Balkans. Cen. May.
Small Talk. Cen. Feb.
Allen, Loraine Anderson.
**Going of Agnes, The. Touch. Sept.
Allendorf, Anna Stahl.
*Dallying of Celia May, The. G. H. July.
**Leavening of St. Rupert, The. G. H. June.
"Amid, John." (M. M. Stearns.) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Alone. Det. Sept. 25.
*Busted Poor. All. Dec. 8.
Freeze, The. Mid. Aug.
*Interlude. Young. April.
*Prem Singh. Bel. Dec. 1.
***Professor, A. Mid. Nov.
Strachan's Hindu. Bel. Oct. 27.
Anderson, Sherwood. (See 1915 and 1916.)
***"Mother." Sev. A. March.
***Thinker, The. Sev. A. Sept.
***Untold Lie, The. Sev. A. Jan.
Anderson, William Ashley. (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Unwrit Dogma, The. Ev. Dec.
Andrade, Cipriano, Jr.
*Applied Hydraulics. S. E. P. Aug. 25.
Andres, Mary Raymond Shipman. (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Blood Brothers. Scr. May.
***Return of K. of K., The. McC. March.
*Russian, The. Milestones. Oct.
*Andreyev, Leonid Nikolaevich. (1871- .) (See 1916.)
***Lazarus. Strat. J. June.
Anonymous.
Apparition, The. N. Y. Trib. Nov. 11.
Coeur de Lion. N. Y. Trib. July 22.
***Evocation, The. N. Y. Trib. April 22.
Eyes of the Soul, The. N. Y. Trib. Feb. 25.
Fools. Mir. Sept. 28.
***"Huppdiwupp." Lit. R. Jan.
*Pipe, The. N. Y. Trib. Nov. 4.
**Poilu's Dream on Christmas Eve, The. B. Her. Dec. 23.
*Rendezvous, The. N. Y. Trib. Sept. 30.
**Slacker with a Soul, A. N. Y. Trib. Sept. 16.
*Spirit of Alsace, The. N. Y. Trib. May 6.
*Voice of the Church Bell, The. N. Y. Trib. Oct. 21.
War Against War. McC. April-May.
When Lulu Made Trouble. Mir. May 18.
Arbuckle, Mary.
Freedom and Robbie May. Sun. Nov.
Armstrong, William.
Cupid in High Finance. Del. Sept.
Ashe, Elizabeth. (See 1915.)
*Appraisement. Atl. March.
*Assis, Machado de. (1839-1908.) (See 1916.)
**Attendant's Confession, The. (R.) Strat. J. Dec.
Auernheimer, Raoul. (1876- .)
*Demonstrating That War Is War. N. Y. Trib. Jan. 28.
*Aumonier, Stacy. (See 1915 and 1916.)
***In the Way of Business. Pict. R. March.
***Packet, The. Col. May 26.
***"Them Others." Cen. Aug.
Austin, F. Britten. (See 1915.)
**Zu Befehl! S. E. P. Dec. 1.
B
Babcock, Edwina Stanton. (See 1916.)
***Excursion, The. Pict. R. Oct.
Bacon, Josephine Daskam. (1876- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Comrades in Arms. S. E. P. Oct. 27.
*Entrances and Exits. Del. Oct.
Ghost of Rosy Taylor, The. S. E. P. Nov. 17.
*Magic Casements. Del. Nov.
Square Peggy. S. E. P. Dec. 22.
*Year of Cousin Quartus, A. Del. Feb.
Bailey (Irene) Temple. (See 1915.)
*Red Candle, The. Scr. Dec.
Baker, Katharine. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Fifty-Cent Kind, The. Atl. April.
Ball, William David.
Man Who Paid, The. E. W. April 2.
Balmer, Edwin. (1883- .) (See 1915.)
Madcap. Col. Jan. 27.
S. Orton, Stockholder. E. W. May 28.
Telegraph Trail, The. Col. March 17.
Thing That He Did, The. L. H. J. Jan.
With Sealed Hood. Col. Sept. 22.
Banks, Helen Ward.
*Mrs. Pepper Passes. Y. C. April 5.
*Barbusse, Henri.
**Paradis Polishes the Boots. (R.) C. O. Dec.
Barnard, Floy Tolbert. (1879- .) (See 1916.)
***Surprise in Perspective, A. Harp. M. April.
Barry, Richard. (1881- .)
Legacy, The. Del. March.
Bartlett, Frederick Orin. (1876- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Time to Go to Newport. E. W. July 23.
Bartley, Nalbro.
Benedict & Company. S. E. P. Oct. 13.
Briggles "Goes West." S. E. P. March 10.
Have a Heart! S. E. P. April 7.
Reel True. S. E. P. Nov. 10.
Total Bewitcher, The. S. E. P. June 16.
Town Mouse, The. S. E. P. April 21.
Bassett, Willard Kenneth.
*End of the Line, The. S. S. Oct.
Bates, Sylvia Chatfield. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Let Nothing You Dismay. W. H. C. Dec.
*Light from the Holy Hill. Wom. W. Dec.
*Bazin, René. (1853- .)
***Mathurine's Eyes. Strat. J. March.
Beach, Roy.
Cline's Injunction. Sun. April.
Beatty, Jerome.
"Attaboy!" McC. March.
Gee-Whiz Guy, The. McC. Aug.
"Take 'Im Out!" McC. May.
Bechdolt, Frederick R.
Pecos Kid, The. Col. Jan. 6.
Bechdolt, Jack.
Black Widow's Mercy, The. (R.) Mir. Feb. 16.
Beer, Thomas. (1889- .)
***Brothers, The. Cen. Feb.
***Onnie. Cen. May.
**Rescuer, The. S. E. P. Aug. 11.
Behrman, S. N.
**Coming of the Lord, The. Touch. Oct.
**Song of Ariel. Sev. A. May.
*Beith, Ian Hay. (See "Hay, Ian.")
*Bell, J(ohn) J(oy). (1871- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Wanted—A Pussy-Mew. Bel. March 3.
Bell, Lilian (Lida). (1867- .)
Mrs. Galloway Goes Shopping. Del. Sept.
Mrs. Galloway Tries to Reduce. Del. Nov.
Benefield, Barry. (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Simply Sugar Pie. (R.) I. S. M. April 29.
Benét, William Rose. (1886- .)
But Once a Year. Cen. Dec.
Bennet-Thompson, Lillian. (See Thompson, Lillian Bennet-.)
*Benson, Edward Frederic. (1867- .)
*"Through." Cen. July.
Benson, Ramsey. (1866- .)
*Shad's Windfall. B. C. March.
*Beresford, John Davys. (1873- .) (See 1916.)
***Escape, The. Sev. A. Feb.
***Little Town, The. Sev. A. June.
***Powers of the Air. Sev. A. Oct.
Berry, John. (See 1916.)
*Clod, The. B. C. April.
Betts, Thomas Jeffries. (See 1916.)
**Alone. Scr. May.
Biggers, Earl Derr. (1884- .) (See 1916.)
Each According to His Gifts. S. E. P. April 14.
Same Old Circle. S. E. P. April 7.
Soap and Sophocles. McC. July.
*"Birmingham, George A." (Canon James O. Hannay.) (1865- .) (See 1915.)
*Von Edelstein's Mistake. McC. Nov.
Blair, Gertrude.
Water-Witch, The. Scr. May.
Bledsoe, Joe.
*Fuzz. B. C. May.
Blythe, Samuel G.
Der Tag for Us. S. E. P. Dec. 22.
Boggs, Russell A.
Boomer from the West, The. S. E. P. April 28.
Booth, Frederick. (See 1916.)
**Cloud-Ring, The. Sev. A. April.
Bottome, Phyllis. (See 1916.)
***"Ironstone." Cen. March.
Bourne, Randolph.
*Ernest, or Parent for a Day. Atl. June.
*Boutet, Frederic.
*Convalescent's Return, The. N. Y. Trib. Dec. 30.
***Medallion, The. N. Y. Trib. Oct. 28.
*Messenger, The. N. Y. Trib. Aug. 12.
*Promise, The. N. Y. Trib. Sept. 2.
Bower, B. M., and Connor, Buck. (See 1916.)
Go-Between, The. McC. March.
Red Ride, The. McC. May.
Boyer, Wilbur S.
*Bum Throwers. Ev. June.
*Getting Even with Geo'gia. Ev. April.
*One Week of Kelly. Ev. March.
*There's Many a Slip. Ev. Nov.
*Boyes, Dan.
Lilium Giganteum. (R.) Mir. Feb. 16.
Boykin, Nancy Gunter.
*Christmas Medley, A. Met. Jan.
Leavings. E. W. Dec. 3.
Retta Rosemary. E. W. July 16.
Brady, Elizabeth.
*Ladislav Saves the Day. Q. W. Nov.
Brady, Mariel. (See 1916.)
Thermopylæ. Bel. Oct. 6.
Braley, Berton. (See 1915.)
Stuff of Dreams, The. Del. Aug.
*Braz, Anatole Le. (See Le Braz, Anatole.)
"Breck, John." (Elizabeth C. A. Smith.)
***From Hungary. Bookman. Dec.
**Man Who was Afraid, The. Ev. Sept.
Brooks, Alden. (See 1916.)
**Man From America, The. Cen. July.
***Three Slavs, The. Col. May 5.
Brown, Alice. (1857- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Flying Teuton, The. Harp. M. Aug.
***Nemesis, Harp. M. April.
*Preaching Peony, The. Harp. M. June.
Brown, Bernice.
**Last of the Line, The. E. W. Nov. 5.
Brown, Katharine Holland. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Millicent: Maker of History. Scr. June.
**On a Brief Text from Isaiah. Scr. Feb.
Brown, Marion Francis.
*Husks and Hawthorn. So. Wo. M. Aug.
Brown, Phyllis Wyatt. (Phyllis Wyatt.) (See 1916.)
*Checked Trousers, The. Masses. June.
*Extra Chop, The. Cen. Oct.
Brown, Royal.
*Seventy Times Seven. McCall. April.
Brownell, Agnes Mary.
*Fifer, The. Y. C. June 28.
Brubaker, Howard. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Baby's Place, A. Harp. M. Jan.
Cabbages and Queens. Harp. M. Aug.
Greeks Bearing Gifts. Harp. M. Nov.
*Ranny and the Higher Life. Harp. M. June.
Bruckman, Clyde A. (See 1916.)
Joe Gum. S. E. P. May 5.
Bryson, Lyman. (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Under a Roof. Mid. July.
Bulger, Bozeman. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Heart of the System, The. S. E. P. Jan. 6.
Queen's Mistake, The. S. E. P. March 3.
*Skin Deep. Ev. March.
Bunner, Anne.
Road to Arcady, The. Ev. July.
Burnet, Dana. (1888- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Christmas Fight of X 157. L. H. J. Dec.
*Dub, The. S. E. P. March 17.
***Fog. (R.) I. S. M. April 1.
Genevieve and Alonzo. L. H. J. March.
**Sadie Goes to Heaven. G. H. Aug.
**Sponge, The. Am. Jan.
Burnett, Frances Hodgson. (1849- .) (See 1915.)
**White People, The. Harp. M. Dec., '16-Jan., '17.
*Burrow, C. Kennett.
*Café de la Paix, The. (R.) Mir. Sept 21.
Burt, Jean Brooke.
Way of the West, The. Sun. June.
Burt, Maxwell Struthers. (1882- .) (See 1915.)
***Closed Doors. Scr. Nov.
***Cup of Tea, A. Scr. July.
***Glory of the Wild Green Earth, The. Scr. Oct.
***John O'May. Scr. Jan.
***Panache, Le. Scr. Dec.
Busbey, Katherine Graves. (1872- .)
**Senator's Son, The. Harp. M. March.
Buss, Kate (Meldram).
**Medals. Mid. May.
Butler, Ellis Parker. (1869- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Markley's "Size-Up" of Dix. Am. July.
Mutual Spurs, Limited. S. E. P. July 21.
*Red Avengers, The. Am. Jan.
*Scratch-Cat. E. W. Feb. 26.
Temporary Receiver, The. Am. Aug.
*Trouble with Martha, The. Harp. M. Dec.
**Wasted Effort. Am. May.
Buzzell, Francis. (1882- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Lonely Places. Pict. R. Dec.
***Long Vacation, The. Pict. R. Sept.
"Byrne, Donn." (Bryan Oswald Donn-Byrne.) (1888- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Day After Tomorrow. McC. Oct.
Gryphon, The. S. E. P. April 28.
*Prodigal in Utopia, The. S. E. P. Sept. 8.
**Sound of Millstones, The. S. E. P. March 24.
*Treasure Upon Earth, A. S. E. P. Nov. 3.
*Woman in the House, A. S. E. P. March 3.
C
*Caine, William. (See 1916.)
**Spanish Pride. Cen. Dec.
Cameron, Anne.
Sadie's Opportunity. Am. March.
Cameron, Margaret. (Margaret Cameron Lewis.) (1867- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Dolliver's Devil. Harp. M. Jan.
Camp (Charles) Wadsworth. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Veiled Woman, The. Col. Nov. 17.
Campbell, Fleta. (1886- .) (See 1915 and 1916 under Springer, Fleta Campbell.)
**Incompetent, Irrelevant, and Immaterial. Harp. M. May.
**Millward. Harp. M. Oct.
***Mistress, The. Harp. B. Oct.
Campbell, Jay.
**Jim. Scr. Feb.
Campen, Helen Van. (See Van Campen, Helen.)
Carlton, Augustus.
*Lady from Ah-high-ah, The. Mir. Aug. 31.
Carruth, Gorton Veeder.
*Chivalry at Goldenbridge. Y. C. Aug. 30.
Carver, Ada Jack. (See 1916.)
*"Joyous Coast, The." So. Wo. M. Sept.
Casey, Patrick and Terence. (See 1915.)
**Kid Brother, The. Col. May 19.
*Castle, Egerton. (1858- .)
*Guinea Smuggler, The. Bel. June 16.
Castle, Everett Rhodes.
Coats Is In. S. E. P. Nov. 17.
Dark-Brown Liquid, The. S. E. P. Dec. 8.
Harvest Gloom. S. E. P. Dec. 15.
In the Movies They Do It. S. E. P. Dec. 29.
Cather, Willa Sibert. (1875- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Gold Slipper, A. Harp. M. Jan.
Cederschiöld, Gunnar.
***Foundling, The. Col. Oct. 27.
Chamberlain, George Agnew. (1879- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Man Who Went Back, The. L. H. J. June.
Neutrality and Siamese Cats. S. E. P. June 30.
Chamberlain, Lucia.
Under Side, The. S. E. P. Aug. 11.
Chambers, Robert William. (1865- .) (See 1915.)
*Brabançonne, La. Hear. Feb.
Channing, Grace Ellery. (Grace Ellery Channing Stetson.) (1862- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Out of the Earth. S. E. P. Aug. 18.
*Chekhov, Anton. (See Tchekov, Anton Pavlovitch.)
Chenault, Fletcher.
Strategy Wins. Col. March 31.
Young Man from Texas, The. Col. June 23.
Chester, George Randolph. (1869- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Heavenly Spat, The. Ev. Jan.
Child, Richard Washburn. (1881- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Chasm, The. S. E. P. Dec. 8.
Eagle Shannon Assists Mr. Sleed. Col. May 12.
Eagle Shannon Deals a Blow at Progress. Col. June 16.
Eagle Shannon Gives a Treatment. Col. Feb. 10.
Eagle Shannon Meets the Ivory Woman. Col. April 14.
*Faith. E. W. Dec. 31.
**Forever and Ever. Pict. R. April.
God's Laugh. Col. March 17.
*Hard of Head. E. W. Jan. 22.
Her Boy. E. W. Oct. 15.
*Her Countenance. Hear. Oct.
Love Is Love. E. W. March 12.
*Chirikov, Evgeniy.
***Past, The. Rus. R. Jan.
Cleghorn, Sarah N(orcliffe). (1876- .)
***"Mr. Charles Raleigh Rawdon, Ma'am." Cen. Feb.
*Clifford, Sir Hugh. (1866- .) (See 1916.)
**"Our Trusty and Well-Beloved." Sh. St. April.
*Clifford, Mrs. W. K. (See 1915.)
Quenching, The. Scr. Jan.
Closser, Myra Jo.
**At the Gate. Cen. March.
Cloud, Virginia Woodward.
Boy Without a Name, The. Bel. June 30.
Her Arabian Night. Bel. Aug. 11.
Cobb, Irvin S(hrewsbury). (1876- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Boys Will Be Boys. S. E. P. Oct. 20.
***Cinnamon Seed and Sandy Bottom. S. E. P. June 9.
*Ex-Fightin' Billy. Pict. R. June.
***Family Tree, The. S. E. P. March 24.
*Garb of Men, The. S. E. P. Jan. 20.
*Hark! From the Tombs. S. E. P. April 14.
Kiss for Kindness, A. S. E. P. April 7.
***Quality Folks. S. E. P. Nov. 24.
Cocke, Sarah Johnson.
**Men-Fokes' Doin's. S. E. P. Oct. 27.
*Rooster and the Washpot, The. S. E. P. June 2.
Cody, Rosalie M. (See Eaton, Jacquette H., and Cody, Rosalie M.)
Cohen, Inez Lopez. (See "Lopez, Inez.")
Cohen, Octavus Roy. (1891- .) (See 1915 and 1916.) (See also Cohen, Octavus Roy, and Levison, Eric.)
**Fair Play. Col. Nov. 24.
Lot for a Life, A. E. W. Jan. 1.
Oil and Miss Watters. I. S. M. July 8.
*Partners. Col. May 5.
Cohen, Octavus Roy (1891- ), and Levison, Eric.
*Pro Patria. Ev. July.
Collamore, Edna A.
*Those Twin Easter Hats. Del. April.
Collins, Dorothy.
Honest Mind, An. Pag. March.
Colton, John.
**On the Yellow Sea. E. W. Nov. 26.
Comfort, Will Levington. (1878- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Lempke. S. E. P. Nov. 3.
*Lit Up. E. W. July 30.
*Pale Torrent, The. Touch. June.
*Plain Woman, The. S. E. P. Nov. 24.
**Respectable House, A. Touch. Aug.
*Shielding Wing, The. Hear. April.
**Woman He Loved, The. Touch. Nov.
Condon, Frank. (See 1916.)
Five, Six, Pick Up Sticks. S. E. P. Nov. 17.
Ne Coco Domo. S. E. P. April 7.
Nothing But Some Bones. Col. Oct. 20.
This Way Out. S. E. P. March 10.
Water on the Side. Col. April 28.
Connolly, James Brendan. (1868- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Breath o'Dawn. Scr. Sept.
*Bullfight, The. Col. Feb. 10.
Strategists, The. Scr. July.
Connor, Brevard Mays. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Desert Rose, The. Sun. Sept.
Connor, Buck. (See Bower, B. M., and Connor, Buck.)
Connor, Torrey.
*"Si, Señor!" Sun. March.
*"Conrad, Joseph." (Joseph Conrad Korzeniowski.) (1857- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Warrior's Soul, The. Met. Dec.
Converse, Florence. (1871- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Culprit, The. Atl. Jan.
Conway, Norman.
*Cleansing, The. Masses. June.
Cook, Mrs. George Cram. (See Glaspell, Susan.)
Cooke, Marjorie Benton. (See 1915 and 1916.)
"It Might Have Happened." Scr. April.
Morals of Peter, The. Am. Aug.
Cooper, Courtney Ryley.
*Congo. Ev. Nov.
Ship Comes In, The. Pict R. Nov.
Corbin, John. (1870- .)
Father Comes Back. Col. June 23.
Cornell, Hughes. (See 1916.)
*Holbrook Hollow. L. A. Times. June 23.
Cornish, Reynelle G. E., and Cornish, Evelyn N.
*Letter of the Law, The. Outl. July 4.
Costello, Fanny Kemble. (See Johnson, Fanny Kemble.)
Couch, Sir Arthur T. Quiller-. (See Quiller-Couch, Sir Arthur T.)
Cowdery, Alice. (See 1915.)
***Robert. Harp. M. Feb.
Crabb, Arthur.
Decision, The. S. E. P. Sept. 8.
Third Woman, The. S. E. P. Sept. 15.
Crabbe, Bertha Helen. (1887- .) (See 1916.)
*Lavender Satin. Y. C. Nov. 29.
***Once in a Lifetime. Bel. April 21.
Cram, Mildred R. (See 1916.)
*Not Quite an Hour. S. S. Aug.
**Statuette, The. S. S. May.
Crawford, Charlotte Holmes. (See 1915.)
**Daughter of Nish, A. Col. Jan. 20.
Crissey, Forrest. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Pretender, The. Harp. M. May.
Curtiss, Philip Everett. (1885- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Colonel Volunteers, The. Harp. M. Oct.
Gods and Little Fishes, The. E. W. Oct. 29.
"Overture and Beginners!" S. E. P. Oct. 13.
Pioneers, The. Harp. M. Aug.
Curwood, James Oliver. (1878- .)
*Fiddling Man, The. E. W. April 16.
D
Daly, Alice F.
*Aunt Virginia's Box. Y. C. Nov. 22.
*Heirloom, The. Y. C. Dec. 6.
Davies, Marion.
Runaway Romany. I. S. M. Sept. 16.
Davis, J. Frank.
*Almanzar's Perfect Day. E. W. Aug. 27.
White Folks' Talk. E. W. June 25.
Davis, Jacob.
*Striker, The. Mir. July 27.
Davis, Rose B.
Bremington's Job. Sun. March.
Dawson, (Francis) Warrington. (1878- .)
**Man, The. Atl. March.
Delano, Edith Barnard. (See 1915.)
Social Folks Next Door, The. L. H. J. Nov.
*Delarue-Madrus, Lucie.
***Death of the Dead, The. Strat. J. Dec.
Godmother, The. N. Y. Trib. Sept. 23.
Godmother, The. (II.) N. Y. Trib. Oct. 14.
Derieux, Samuel A. (See 1916.)
*Destiny of Dan VI, The. Am. March.
Dickson, Harris. (1868- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Jigadier Brindle, The. Col. July 14.
*Jigadier's Drum, The. Col. Sept. 29.
*Left Hind Tail, The. Pict. R. Feb.
Redpate the Rookie. Col. July 21.
War Trailer, The. Col. Sept. 15.
Divine, Charles.
*Last Aristocrat, The. S. S. April.
*Mrs. Smythe's Artistic Crisis. S. S. March.
Dix, Beulah Marie. (Mrs. George H. Flebbe.) (1876- .)
(See 1915 and 1916.)
**One Who Stayed, The. Harp. B. Sept.
Dobie, Charles Caldwell. (1881- .) (See 1916.)
***Empty Pistol, The. Harp. M. Dec.
***Gift, The. Harp. M. Aug.
***Laughter. Harp. M. April.
***Our Dog. Pict. R. Nov.
*Sign Language, The. Harp. M. July.
**Where the Road Forked. Harp. M. June.
Dodge, Henry Irving. (See 1916.)
Skinner's Big Idea. S. E. P. Dec. 15.
Dodge, Louis.
**Wilder's Ride. Scr. Dec.
Dodge, Mabel.
***Farmhands. Sev. A. Sept.
Doring, Winfield.
Boy's Night, A. L. H. J. Jan.
Doty, Madeleine Zabriskie. (See 1915.)
*Mutter, Die. (R.) C. O. May.
Douglas, David. (See 1915.)
Casey Gets a Surprise. McC. Feb.
Dounce, Harry Esty.
**Garden of Proserpine, The. Cen. Aug.
*Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan. (1859- .) (See 1916.)
**His Last Bow. Col. Sept. 22.
*"Doyle, Lynn." (Lewis A. Montgomery.)
Compulsory Service in Ballygullion. Cen. April.
Draper, John W.
*Guilleford Errant. Colon. March.
Dreiser, Theodore. (1871- .) (See 1916.)
*Married. Cos. Sept.
Driggs, Laurence La Tourette.
Battle Royal, The. Outl. Nov. 21.
Bridge on the Oise, The. Outl. Oct. 31.
My First Submarine. Outl. Nov. 7.
Strafing Jack Johnson. Outl. Dec. 5.
Zeppelin Raid over Paris, A. Outl. Oct. 17.
*Dudeney, Mrs. Henry. (1866- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Feather-bed, The. Harp. M. Oct.
Duncan, Norman. (1871-1916.) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Little Nipper o' Hide-an'-Seek Harbor, A. Pict. R. May.
*Mohammed of the Lion Heart. Del. Aug.
*Dunsany, Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett, 18th Baron. (1878- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***East and West. (R.) Mir. Jan. 19.
***Gifts of the Gods, The. (R.) Mir. Oct. 5.
***How the Gods Avenged Meoul Ki Ning. S. S. Nov.
*During, Stella M.
Top Floor Front, The. I. S. M. Feb. 18.
*Dutton, Louise Elizabeth. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Paradise Alley. Met. July.
Poor Butterfly. S. E. P. Sept. 29.
When the Half-Gods Go. S. E. P. July 14.
Dwight, H(arry) Griswold. (1875- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Emperor of Elam, The. Cen. July.
Dwyer, James Francis. (1874- .) (

See 1915 and 1916.)
**Land of the Pilgrims' Pride. Col. April 28.
Dyer, Walter Alden. (1878- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Annabel's Goose. Col. Dec. 15.
Mission of McGregor, The. Col. Feb. 10.
Dyke, Catherine Van. (See Van Dyke, Catherine.)
Dyke, Henry van. (See Van Dyke, Henry.)
E
Eastman, Max. (1883- .) (See 1916.)
**Lover of Animals, A. Masses. April.
Eaton, Jacquette H., and Cody, Rosalie M.
*Thankful. Y. C. Nov. 22.
Eaton, Walter Prichard. (1878- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Altitude. E. W. Sept. 24.
White-Topped Boots, The. E. W. May 21.
*Echegaray, José.
*Birth of the Flowers, The. (R.) C. O. Jan.
Edgar, Randolph. (See 1916.)
**Iron. Bel. May 26.
Edgelow, Thomas. (See 1916.)
Whimsical Tenderness, A. Scr. April.
Ellerbe, Alma Estabrook. (See 1915 under Estabrook, Alma Martin.)
*Brock. Touch. July.
Ellerbe, Rose L.
*Peasant's Revolt, A. Pear. Nov.
Evans, Ida May. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Brew of Ashes. McC. April.
End of a Perfect Day, The. Col. Sept. 1.
Great Little Old Understander, A. S. E. P. Oct. 20.
Ideal of His Dreams, The. S. E. P. March 10.
Kimonos and Pink Chiffon. McC. Dec.
Leaves of Graft. S. E. P. April 7.
Whither Thou Goest. S. E. P. May 26.
You Never Can Tell What a Minister's Son Will Do. S. E. P. Aug. 25.
*"Eye-witness." (See Swinton, Lieut.-Col. E. D.)
F
*Farjeon, J. Jefferson.
*Sixpence. (R.) Mir. Dec. 14.
*Farnol, Jeffery.
*Absentee, The. Wom. W. June.
Fawcett, Margaret.
Pursuit of Peter, The. Met. June.
Ferber, Edna. (1887- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Cheerful—By Request. Col. Nov. 24.
***Gay Old Dog, The. Met. Oct.
Ferris, Eleanor. (See 1915.)
*Coup de Grâce. Cen. Oct.
Ferris, Elmer Ellsworth. (1861- .) (See 1915.)
*Helping Out Olaf. Am. April.
Ferris, Walter. (See 1916.)
Matter of Quality, A. Ev. Sept.
Finn, Mary M.
Bentley's Adventure in New York. Am. Sept.
Flower, Elliott. (1863- .) (See 1915.)
*Point of View, The. Harp. M. Aug.
Folsom, Elizabeth Irons. (1876- .) (See 1916.)
***Kamerad. Touch. Oct.
**When the Devil Drives. Pag. July-Aug.
Ford, Sewell. (1868- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
All the Way with Anna. E. W. Nov. 12.
And Wilt Thou, Torchy? E. W. Jan. 15.
At the Turn with Wilfred. E. W. Nov. 19.
Back with Clara Belle. E. W. July 9.
Carry-On for Clara, A. E. W. Oct. 22.
Even Break with Bradley, An. E. W. Jan. 29.
Flicketty One Looks On, A. E. W. Jan. 1.
Little Sully's Double Play. E. W. June 11.
On the Gate with Waldo. E. W. Aug. 6.
Qualifying Turn for Torchy, A. E. W. April 30.
Recruit for the Eight-Three, A. E. W. May 28.
Ringer from Bedelia, A. E. W. Aug. 20.
Showing Up Brick Hartley. E. W. Feb. 26.
Switching Arts on Leon. E. W. May 14.
Time Out for Joan. E. W. March 26.
Torchy and Vee on the Way. E. W. Feb. 12.
Torchy in the Gazinkus Class. E. W. June 25.
Vee Goes Over the Top. E. W. Dec. 10.
Vee with Variations. E. W. March 12.
When Torchy Got the Call. E. W. July 23.
Where Herm Belonged to Be. E. W. April 16.
Foster, Maximilian. (1872- .) (See 1915.)
Dollar Bill, The. S. E. P. June 16.
Fifi. S. E. P. July 7.
Last Throw, The. S. E. P. Feb. 24.
*Wraiths. S. E. P. April 7.
Fox, Edward Lyell. (1887- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Man and the Other Man, The. I. S. M. March 18.
Fox, John (William), Jr. (1863- .)
*Angel from Viper, The. Scr. May.
*Battle-Prayer of Parson Small, The. Scr. April.
*Compact of Christopher, The. Scr. Feb.
*Courtship of Allaphair, The. Scr. Jan.
*Goddess of Happy Valley, The. Scr. Oct.
**Lord's Own Level, The. Scr. March.
*Marquise of Queensberry, The. Scr. Sept.
*Pope of the Big Sandy, The. Scr. June.
Fox, Paul Hervey.
**Remembered Hour, The. Bel. June 2.
Frank, Waldo. (1890- .) (See 1916.)
***Bread-Crumbs. Sev. A. May.
***Candles of Romance, The. S. S. Feb.
***Rudd. Sev. A. Aug.
Freeman, Mary E. Wilkins-. (1862- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Boomerang, The. Pict. R. March.
Both Cheeks. S. E. P. Nov. 17.
***Cloak Also, The. Harp. M. March.
**Cross Purposes. (R.) I. S. M. Nov. 25.
*Liar, The. Harp. M. Nov.
***Ring with the Green Stone, The. Harp. M. Feb.
*Thanksgiving Crossroads. W. H. C. Nov.
*Freksa, Friedrich. (1882- .)
*"Le Châtelet de Madame." N. Y. Trib. Jan. 14.
Fuessle, Newton A. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Legal Mind, The. Mir. Nov. 23.
Fullerton, Hugh Stewart. (See 1916.)
Bingles and Black Magic. Met. May.
Old Ambish, The. Am. July.
Runarounds, The. Col. April 14.
Severe Attack of the Gerties, A. Am. Oct.
Taking a Reef in Tadpole. Am. April.
World Series—Mex., A. Col. Oct. 13.
Futrelle, (L.) May (Peel). (Mrs. Jacques Futrelle.) (1876- .) (See 1915.)
Late Betsy Baker, The. Ev. May.
G
Gale, Annie G.
Out of Tophet. Sun. July.
Gale, Zona. (1874- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Arpeggio Courts. Harp. M. Dec.
Deal, The. E. W. Jan. 1.
*When They Knew the Real Each Other. L. H. J. May.
*Galsworthy, John. (1867- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Defeat. Scr. Aug.
***Flotsam and Jetsam. Scr. Dec.
***Juryman, The. G. H. Sept.
Gambier, Kenyon.
Huge Black One-Eyed Man, The. S. E. P. June 23-30.
Ganoe, William Addleman.
*Ruggs—R. O. T. C. Atl. Dec.
Garrett, Garet. (1878- .)
Gold Token, The. S. E. P. Jan. 6.
Gates, Eleanor. (Mrs. Frederick Ferdinand Moore.) (1875- .)
Tomboy. S. E. P. Jan. 27.
**Waiting Soul, The. Harp. B. June.
Gatlin, Dana. (See 1915 and 1916.) (See also Gatlin, Dana, and Hately, Arthur.)
Full Measure of Devotion, The. McC. Nov.
In a Japanese Garden. McC. Jan.
Let's See What Happens Next! McC. Sept.
Lovers and Lovers. Col. March 3.
Orchids. McC. Dec.
Rosemary's Great Wish. Am. April.
*Spring Mischief. Met. April.
Where Youth Is Also. Col. March 31.
Wild Roses. McC. June.
Gatlin, Dana, and Hately, Arthur.
"Divided We Fall." McC. July.
Gaunt, Mary.
Cyclone, The. For. March-April.
Geer, Cornelia Throop.
***Pearls Before Swine. Atl. Oct.
*George, W. L. (1882- .)
***Interlude. Harp. M. Feb.
**Water. (R.) Mir. Dec. 7.
Gerould, Katharine Fullerton. (1879- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***East of Eden. Harp. M. Dec.
***Hand of Jim Fane, The. Harp. M. Aug.
***Knight's Move, The. Atl. Feb.
***Wax Doll, The. Scr. May.
***What They Seem. Harp. M. Sept.
Gerrish, Josette.
Would-Be Free Lance, The. Met. May.
Gerry, Margarita Spalding. (1870- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Berenice's First Dance. L. H. J. April.
Flag Factory, The. L. H. J. Oct.
Her Record. Pict. R. Feb.
*Midwinter-Night's Dream, A. Harp. M. Dec.
*Gibbon, Perceval. (1879- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Plain German. S. E. P. Sept. 29.
*Gibson, Wilfrid Wilson.
***News, The. Poetry. Jan.
Giesy, J. U.
Strategy of Desperation, The. Del. Nov.
Gifford, Franklin Kent. (1861- .)
Along Came George. L. H. J. March.
Gill, Austin. (See 1916.)
Introducing the Auto to Adder Gulch. Col. Jan. 6.
Gillmore, Inez Haynes. (See Irwin, Inez Haynes.)
Glasgow, Ellen (Anderson Gholson.) (1874- .) (See 1916.)
***Dare's Gift. Harp. M. Feb.-March.
Glaspell, Susan (Keating.) (Mrs. George Cram Cook.) (1882- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Everything You Want to Plant. E. W. Aug. 13.
***Hearing Ear, The. Harp. M. Jan.
***Jury of Her Peers, A. E. W. March 5.
***Matter of Gesture, A. McC. Aug.
Gleason, Arthur Huntington. (1878- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Irishman, The. Cen. Oct.
Goetschius, Marie Louise. (See Van Saanen, Marie Louise.)
Golden, Harry.
End of the Argument, The. Sun. July.
Goldman, Raymond Leslie.
Smell of the Sawdust, The. Col. Sept. 15.
Gordon, Armistead Churchill. (1855- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***His Father's Flag. Scr. Oct.
**Pharzy. Scr. March.
Graeve, Oscar. (1884- ). (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Kamp. McC. May.
Granich, Irwin. (See 1916.)
**God Is Love. Masses. Aug.
Grant, Ethel Watts-Mumford. (See Mumford, Ethel Watts.)
Gray, David. (1870- .) (See 1915.)
Felix. S. E. P. Feb. 17.
Way a Man Marries, The. Pict. R. July.
Greene, Frederick Stuart. (1870- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Bunker Mouse, The. Cen. March.
***"Molly McGuire, Fourteen." Cen. Sept.
***Ticket to North Carolina, A. (R.) I. S. M. April 15.
**"Vengeance Is Mine!" McC. Sept.
Greenman, Frances.
Impossible Angela. L. H. J. June.
Impossible Angela Discovers That a Pretty Girl is Visiting the Jaspers. L. H. J. Aug.
Grimes, Katharine Atherton.
**Return of Michael Voiret, The. So. Wo. M. April.
Grunberg, Alfred.
Maizie, the Magazine Eater. Met. Jan.
Guild, Alexa.
Farleigh's Farewell. I. S. M. April 15.
*Gull, Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger. (See "Thorne, Guy.")
Gurlitz, Amy Landon.
**Eagle's Nest, The. Ev. May.
H
Haines, Donal Hamilton. (1886- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Heels of Achilles, The. Bel. March 10.
*Old Man Who was Always There, The. Bel. Nov. 17.
Hale, Louise Closser. (1872- .) (See 1915.)
Measure of a Man, The. Ev. Dec.
*Parties of Maygie, The. Del. Dec.
*Soldier of the Footlights, A. McC. Feb.
"Hall, Holworthy." (Harold Everett Porter.) (1887- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Between Friends. Ev. Sept.
"Consolation." Cen. June.
Diplomat, The. E. W. Jan. 8.
Dormie One. Ev. Feb.
Grim Visage, The. McC. Oct.
Iberia. S. E. P. March 31.
"If You Don't Mind My Telling You." Cen. Jan.
Last Round, The. Col. May 12.
Man-Killer, The. S. E. P. March 10.
Mouse-Traps. McC. Feb.
Not a Chance in a Thousand. E. W. Dec. 24.
Out in the Open Air. Ev. June.
Persons of Rank. McC. Nov.
Stingy! S. E. P. May 5.
Straight from Headquarters. Dec.
Sunset. S. E. P. Oct. 6.
Turn About. E. W. Sept. 10.
Wild Bill from Texas, Pict. R. Oct.
Hall, May Emery.
Countess' Reincarnation, The. Del. April.
Hall, Wilbur Jay. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Elijah and the Widow's Cruiser. Col. Jan. 6.
Matter of Pressure, A. S. E. P. April 14.
Maxim—Caveat Emptor, The. S. E. P. Sept. 22.
Pronounced Cwix-ot-ic. Ev. Dec.
Typical Westerner, A. Sun. Aug.
Hallet, Richard Matthews. (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Rainbow Pete. Pict. R. Oct.
Halsey, Frederick.
Up—Through the Garden. Am. May.
*Hamilton, Cosmo. (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Ladder Leaning on a Cloud, The. Del. July.
*"Steady" Hardy's Christmas Present. G. H. Dec.
Hamilton, Gertrude Brooke. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Bonnie McGlint, Late of Broadway. Pict. R. May.
Hot Coals. E. W. March 26.
*Sons of God, The. G. H. Dec.
Wax Beauty, The. E. W. Dec. 17.
*Hannay, Canon James O. (See "Birmingham, George A.")
Harger, Charles Moreau. (1863- .) (See 1916.)
Workman No. 5,484. Outl. Oct. 10.
*Harker, L(izzie) Allen. (1863- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Misfit, A. Scr. Dec.
Harper, Ralph M.
How the Rector Recovered. Outl. Aug. 8.
Harris, Corra (May White). (Mrs. L. H. Harris.) (1869- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Her Last Affair. S. E. P. Sept. 1.
***Other Soldiers in France, The. S. E. P. Nov. 3.
Windmills of Love, The. Pict. R. Nov.
Harris, Kennett. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Crop Failure in Sullivan, A. S. E. P. April 7.
Jai Alai. Pict. R. April.
Talismans. S. E. P. May 5.
Vendetta of Bogue Grenouille, The. S. E. P. July 7.
Hartman, Lee Foster. (1879- .) (See 1915.)
*Consul at Paraminta, The. E. W. April 2.
***Frazee. Harp. M. Nov.
Haskell, Elizabeth Louise.
*On Duty. Harp. M. May.
Hately, Arthur. (See Gatlin, Dana, and Hately, Arthur.)
Hawes, Charles Boardman. (See 1916.)
Off Pernambuco. Bel. July 21.
**On a Spring Tide. Bel. Sept. 29.
*Patriots. Bel. June 9.
*Thanks to the Cape Cod Finn. B. C. May.
**"Within That Zone." B. E. T. Feb. 7.
Hawkes, Clarence. (1869- .) (See 1916.)
*Angela. (R.) C. O. April.
*"Hay, Ian." (John Hay Beith.) (1876- .) (See 1915.)
Noncombatant, The. S. E. P. March 24.
*Petit Jean. Ev. April.
Hecht, Ben. (See 1915.)
*Sort of a Story, A. All. Dec. 22.
**Unlovely Sin, The. S. S. July.
*Woman with the Odd Neck, The. B. C. Nov.
*Heine, Anselma.
***Vision, The. Strat. J. Jan.
Hemenway, Hetty Lawrence. (Mrs. Auguste Richard.)
**Adolescence. Cen. June.
***Four Days. Atl. May.
Hendryx, James B.
*In the Outland. Ev. Oct.
Henschen, Sigmund.
**Christmas in the Trenches. I. S. M. Dec. 23.
Hepburn, Elizabeth Newport. (See 1916.)
*Elm Tree Ghosts, The. McCall. Dec.
Hergesheimer, Joseph. (1880- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Asphodel. S. E. P. Aug. 4.
Epheimer. S. E. P. Feb. 3.
**Tol'able David. S. E. P. July 14.
Herrick, Elizabeth. (See 1915.)
**After All. Scr. Feb.
*Canker at the Root, The. Sn. St. Jan. 18.
Hersey, Harold.
**Dead Book, The. Le Dernier Cri. Feb.-March.
Higgins, Aileen Cleveland. (Mrs. John Archibald Sinclair.) (1882- .) (See 1916.)
*'Dopters, The. Bel. Sept. 8.
Higgins, John.
*Man Who Was Ninety-Nine, The. Mir. Sept. 14.
Hillhouse, A. K.
*Sheba. Sn. St. Nov. 4.
Hinkley, Laura L.
*Magic of Dreams, The. W. H. C. Feb.
Hollingsworth, Ceylon. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Strong Medicine. Col. Dec. 1.
Hooper, Samuel Dike.
Nemesis, The. Sun. June.
Hopper, James Marie. (1876- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Enter Charity. Col. July 21.
**Last Make-Believe, The. Col. June 9.
*Rice, The. Col. June 30.
Weight Above the Eyes. Col. Nov. 10.
**Within the Swirl. S. E. P. July 7.
Horne, Margaret Varney Van. (See Van Horne, Margaret Varney.)
Hotchkiss, Chauncey Crafts. (1852- .)
Taking of Spitzendorf. I. S. M. Nov. 11.
Test, The. I. S. M. Sept. 16.
Unexpected, The. I. S. M. Oct. 14.
Hough, Emerson. (1857- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Claxton, O. C. Sun. Dec.
*Housman, Laurence. (1865- .)
***Inside-out. Cen. Aug.
Houston, Margaret Belle.
White Diane, The. Met. April.
Howe, Edgar Watson. (1854- .)
**Stubborn Woman, The. (R.) C. O. March.
Howells, William Dean. (1837- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Tale Untold, A. Atl. Aug.
Howland, Arthur Hoag.
*Governor and the Poet, The. For. Sept.
Hoyt, Charles A.
*Goddess of the Griddle, The. Y. C. Nov. 29.
Hubbard, George, and Thompson, Lillian Bennet-. (See also Thompson, Lillian Bennet-.)
*Coward, The. Sn. St. Nov. 4.
Hubbard, Philip E.
None But the Brave. S. E. P. Jan. 20.
Very Temporary Captain McLean. S. E. P. Feb. 3-10.
Hughes, Elizabeth Burgess. (See 1915.)
Floods of Valpré. Sn. St. Jan. 18.
Hughes, Rupert. (1872- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Oompah Oompah, The. Hear. Nov.
Hull, Alexander.
**New Generation Shall Rise, A. E. W. Nov. 19.
Hull, George Charles.
*"Breathes There the Man—." Scr. July.
Through the Eyes of Mary Ellen. Scr. March.
Hull, Helen R. (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Blight. Touch. May.
*Fire, The. Cen. Nov.
**Groping. Sev. A. Feb.
**"Till Death—." Masses. Jan.
Huneker, James Gibbons. (1860- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Modern Montsalvat, A. S. S. Feb.
Hunt, Edward Eyre. (See 1916.)
**Flemish Tale, A. Outl. April 4.
***Ghosts. N. Rep. Jan. 13.
**In the Street of the Spy. Outl. Oct. 10.
**Microcosm. Outl. Aug. 8.
**Pensioners, The. Outl. Feb. 7.
***Saint Dympna's Miracle. Atl. May. C. O. July.
**White Island, The. Outl. Jan. 17.
Hurst, Fannie. (1889- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Get Ready the Wreaths. Cos. Sept.
*Golden Fleece. Cos. July.
**Oats for the Woman. Cos. June.
*On the Heights. Cos. Dec.
**Sieve of Fulfilment. Cos. Oct.
***Solitary Reaper. Cos. May.
**Would You? Met. May.
*Wrong Pew, The. S. E. P. Jan. 6.
Hutchison, Percy Adams. (See 1915.)
***Journey's End. Harp. M. Sept.
I
Irwin, Inez Haynes (Gillmore). (1873- .) (See 1916, and also 1915 under Gillmore, Inez Haynes.)
When Mother and Father Got Going. L. H. J. May.
Irwin, Wallace. (1875- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Ah-Lee-Bung. Del. July.
All Front and No Back. S. E. P. Oct. 13.
Echo, The. S. E. P. Jan. 27.
Eternal Youth. S. E. P. July 21.
**Hole-in-the-Ground. Col. Oct. 27.
Monkey on a Stick. S. E. P. Dec. 29.
*Old Red Rambler. S. E. P. June 16.
One of Ten Million. McC. Dec.
Peaches and Cream. S. E. P. Nov. 10.
Silence. Harp. M. July.
Starch and Gasolene. Harp. M. Jan.
**Wings. Col. April 7.
Irwin, Will(iam Henry). (1873- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Evening in Society, An. S. E. P. April 28.
J
*Jacobs, W(illiam) W(ymark). (1863- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Convert, The. Hear. Sept.
*Substitute, The. Hear. Dec.
*Jameson, Elaine Mary. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Return of Sanderson, The. Del. May.
Jenkins, Nathalie.
*Winter's Tale, A. So. Wo. M. Jan.
Johnson, Alvin Saunders. (1874- .) (See 1916.)
*Lynching in Bass County. N. Rep. Aug. 18.
*Place in the Sun, A. N. Rep. Nov. 17.
Johnson, Burges. (1877- .) (See 1916.)
Unmelancholy Dane, An. Pict. R. Sept.
Johnson, Fanny Kemble. (See 1916.) (Fanny Kemble Costello.)
*Idyl of Uncle Paley, The. Harp. M. March.
*Magic Casements. Cen. Oct.
*New Lamps for Old. Cen. July.
*On the Altar of Friendship. Cen. Feb.
***Strange-Looking Man, The. Pag. Dec.
Johnson, Gladys E.
Two-Bit Seats. Am. July.
Johnston, Calvin. (See 1915.)
*Playgrounds Dim. S. E. P. Aug. 25.
Johnston, Charles. (1867- .) (See 1915.)
How Liberty Came to Ivan Ivanovitch. Col. Dec. 22.
Johnston, Erle.
*Man with Eyes in His Back, The. Cen. Sept.
*Square Edge and Sound. Cen. Nov.
Johnston, Hubert McBean.
Honest Value. Am. July.
Jones, (E.) Clement. (1890- .)
***Sea-Turn, The. Sev. A. Oct.
Jones, Frank Goewey. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Christmas "Bunk," The. L. H. J. Dec.
Divided Spoils. McC. Sept.
Nine Points of the Law. Col. Oct. 13.
Suspense Account, The. E. W. Sept. 3.
Wall Street Puzzle, A. S. E. P. May 26.
Warm Dollars. S. E. P. Feb. 17.
Jones, Johnson.
Great American Spoof Snake, The. Bel. Nov. 3.
Jones, Thane Miller.
Invaders of Sanctuary. S. E. P. Sept. 8.
N. Brown. S. E. P. Aug. 18.
Jordan, Elizabeth (Garver). (1867- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Mollycoddle, The. E. W. June 4.
What Everyone Else Knew. L. H. J. April.
Young Ellsworth's Hat Size. S. E. P. June 16.
*Joy, Maurice.
*Twenty-Four Hours. S. S. Sept.
Julius, Emanuel Haldiman-.
"Young Man, You're Raving." Pag. Jan.
K
Kahler, Hugh.
*Unforbidden. S. S. Sept.
Kauffman, Reginald Wright. (1877- .) (See 1916.)
**Bounty-Jumper, The. Bel. Feb. 10.
***Lonely House, The. S. S. Feb.
Kelland, Clarence Budington. (1881- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Leak, The. E. W. July 9.
*Mountain Comes to Scattergood, The. S. E. P. Nov. 24.
Omitted Question, The. E. W. Feb. 19.
Options. S. E. P. March 24.
*Practice Makes Cock-Sure. E. W. Aug. 27.
Saving It For Dad. S. E. P. Jan. 20.
Scattergood Baines-Invader. S. E. P. June 30.
Scattergood Kicks Up the Dust. S. E. P. Oct. 13.
Speaking of Souls. E. W. Aug. 6.
Keller, Lucy Stone.
Hail to the Conqueror. Del. Jan.
Kelley, Leon.
All Under One Roof. McC. Oct.
Four Cylinders and Twelve. McC. Aug.
Kelly, Kate.
Emancipation of Galatea, The. S. E. P. March 3.
Kenamore, Clair.
*Sonora Nights' Entertainments. Bookman. July.
Kennon, Harry B. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Back from the Border. Mir. May 4.
Crumbs of Conservation. Mir. Dec. 28.
Fifty-Twelve. Mir. Sept. 21.
Girl Who Talked Out Loud, The. L. H. J. Nov.
Gold Tooth. Mir. May 18.
**Hell's Legacy. Mir. Aug. 24.
Mrs. Chichester's Confession. Mir. June 1.
Poppy Seed. Mir. March 16.
Rice and Old Shoes. Mir. Nov. 16.
*Scum. Mir. April 6.
Three Modern Musketeers. Mir. Dec. 14.
Kent, Eileen.
*Moon Madness. Masses. May.
Kenton, Edna.
*Black Flies. Sn. St. Dec. 18.
Kenyon, Camilla E. L.
Pocketville Bride, The. Sun. Oct.
Runaways, The. Sun. May.
Treasure from the Sea. Sun. Sept.
Tuesday. Sun. April.
Kerr, Sophie. (1880- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Bitterest Pill, The. McC. Jan.
*Clock That Went Backward, The. W. H. C. July.
"Governor Putty." McC. Feb.
High Explosive. McC. June.
Marriage By Capture. E. W. May 7.
*Monsieur Rienzi Takes a Hand. Am. June.
*Orchard, The. Col. Dec. 15.
Over-Reached. McC. Nov.
Kilbourne, Fannie. (See 1915.)
*Betty Bell and Love. Wom. W. Oct.
Bluffer, The. Del. March.
Kilty, Mack.
Taotaomona, The. Bel. Sept. 1.
*Kipling, Rudyard. (1865- .) (See 1915.)
*Regulus. Met. April.
Kirk, R. G.
*Glenmere White Monarch and the Gas-House Pup. S. E. P. March 17.
*Zanoza. S. E. P. Oct. 27.
Klahr, Evelyn Gill. (See 1915.)
She of the U. J. L. H. J. Sept.
*Souvenirs of Letty Loomis. Harp. M. March.
Kline, Burton. (1877- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Caller in the Night, The. Strat. J. Dec.
**Point of Collision, The. S. S. Nov.
Knight, Leavitt Ashley. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Village Orator, The. Am. March.
Knight, Reynolds. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Clay. Mid. April.
Kobbé, Gustav. (1857- .)
Clothes. (R.) Mir. Jan. 12.
*Korzeniowski, Joseph Conrad. (See "Conrad, Joseph.")
Krysto, Christina. (1887- .)
***Babanchik. Atl. April.
Kummer, Frederic Arnold. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Madman, The. Pict. R. Feb.-March.
Kyne, Peter Bernard. (1880- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Cappy Ricks Takes On the Kaiser. S. E. P. Sept. 8.
Cappy Ricks, Wheat Baron. S. E. P. Feb. 17.
Circumventing Wilhelm. S. E. P. April 21.
Floating the Dundee Lassie. Col. Feb. 17.
For Revenue Only. S. E. P. June 9.
Over and Back. Col. March 10.
*Saint Patrick's Day in the Morning. S. E. P. May 19.
Salt of the Earth. S. E. P. Feb. 3.
Swanker, The. Sun. Oct.
L
Lait, Jack. (Jacquin L.) (1882- .) (See 1916.)

*Clause for Santa Claus, A. Milestones. Dec.
If a Party Meet a Party. (R.) Mir. Jan. 26.
*Jersey Lil. Am. June.
Toilers in the Night. Am. Nov.
Lane, George C.
*Jones of the Iron Grip. Y. C. Dec. 20.
Lardner, Ring W. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Ball-a-Hole. S. E. P. May 12.
Facts, The. Met. Jan.
Friendly Game, A. S. E. P. May 5.
Hold-Out, The. S. E. P. March 24.
Three Without, Doubled. S. E. P. Jan. 13.
Tour Y-10. Met. Feb.
Yellow Kid, The. S. E. P. June 23.
"La Rue, Edgar." (See Masters, Edgar Lee.)
*Lawrence, D. H. (See 1915.)
***England My England. Met. April.
***Mortal Coil, The. Sev. A. July.
***Thimble, The. Sev. A. March.
Lazar, Maurice.
Boarder, The. Masses. Feb.
*Habit. Touch. July.
Lea, Fannie Heaslip. (Mrs. H. P. Agee.) (1884- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Big Things. McC. May.
Lone Wolf, The. Harp. M. Aug.
On the Spring Idea. E. W. April 9.
Opened by Censor 1762. Del. Sept.
*Le Braz, Anatole. (1859- .)
***Christmas Treasure, The. So. Wo. M. Dec.
**Frame, The. Outl. Feb. 21.
Lee, Jennette (Barbour Perry). (1860- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***John Fairchild's Mirror. Cen. April.
Miss Somebody's Chair. L. H. J. June.
Three Boats that the Two Men Saw, The. L. H. J. Aug.
*Two Doctors, The. L. H. J. July.
*Le Gallienne, Richard. (1866- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Bugler of the Immortals, The. Del. July.
Lerner, Mary. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Forsaking All Others. Col. May 26.
***Little Selves. (R.) I. S. M. May 13.
*Sixteen. McCall. March.
**Wages of Virtue. All. Feb. 3.
*Lev, Bernard.
***Bert, the Scamp. Strat. J. Dec.
***Marfa's Assumption. Strat. J. Dec.
*Level, Maurice.
*After the War. N. Y. Trib. Oct. 7.
*At the Movies. N. Y. Trib. Dec. 9.
**Great Scene, The. B. Her. Dec. 2.
Leverage, Henry.
*Last Link, The. Sh. St. April.
*Passage for Archangel, A. Sh. St. Feb.
*Salt of the Sea. Sh. St. May.
Levison, Eric. (See Cohen, Octavus Roy, and Levison, Eric.)
Lewars, Elsie Singmaster. (See Singmaster, Elsie.)
Lewis, Addison. (1889- .)
**Black Disc, The. Mir. Oct. 26.
"Elevator Stops At All Floors." Mir. Dec. 7.
*End of the Lane, The. Mir. Feb. 2.
*New Silhouette, The. Mir. Nov. 2.
*9:15, The. Mir. Nov. 16.
**Rejected, The. Mir. Oct. 12.
**Sign Painter, The. Mir. Oct. 5.
**Spite. Mir. Oct. 19.
***When Did You Write Your Mother Last? Mir. Nov. 9.
Lewis, Austin. (See 1916.)
Contra Bonos Mores. Masses. Sept.
Lucky Sweasy! Masses. Jan.
Lewis, Sinclair. (1885- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Black Snow and Orange Sky. Met. Oct.
*For the Zelda Bunch. McC. Oct.
Hobohemia. S. E. P. April 7.
Joy-Joy. S. E. P. Oct. 20.
Poinsettia Widow, The. Met. March.
*Scarlet Sign, The. Met. June.
Snappy Display. Met. Aug.
Twenty-Four Hours in June. S. E. P. Feb. 17.
Whisperer, The. S. E. P. Aug. 11.
Woman By Candlelight, A. S. E. P. July 28.
**Young Man Axelbrod. Cen. June.
*Liddell, Scotland.
**Olitchka. (R.) C. O. Nov.
Lighton, Louis Duryea. (See Lighton, William Rheem, and Lighton, Louis Duryea.)
Lighton, William Rheem. (1866- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
(See also Lighton, William Rheem, and Lighton, Louis Duryea.)
Billy Fortune and the Hard Proposition. E. W. May 14.
Judge Jerry and the Eternal Feminine. Pict. R. July.
Lighton, William Rheem (1866- .), and Lighton, Louis Duryea. (See 1916.)
*Billy Fortune and That Dead Broke Feeling. Pict. R. May.
Billy Fortune and the Spice of Life. Pict. R. March.
Man Without a Character, The. Sun. May.
Lindas, B. F. (See 1916.)
*Dago, The. Mir. Jan. 19.
Loan, Charles E. Van. (See Van Loan, Charles E.)
London, Jack. (1876-1916.) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Grit of Women, The. (R.) I. S. M. Jan. 7.
***Like Argus of the Ancient Time. Hear. March.
*Thousand Deaths, A. (R.) B. C. Jan
Long, Lily Augusta.
"To Love, Honor, and Obey." Harp. M. May.
Loon, Hendrik Willem Van. (See Van Loon, Hendrik Willem.)
"Lopez, Inez." (Mrs. Octavus Roy Cohen.)
**Answer, The. B. E. T. May 5.
Lowe, Corinne.
Flavius Best, Pinxit. S. E. P. Sept 29-Oct. 6.
Slicker, The. S. E. P. Nov. 17.
Ludwig, Frances A.
Square Pegs in Round Holes. Am. Dec.
Lund, Adelaide.
*Pay-Roll Clerk, The. Atl. Aug.
Lynch, J. Bernard.
*Making Good on the Props. Hear. Feb.
Lynn, Margaret. (See 1915.)
**Mr. Fannet and the Afterglow. Atl. Nov.
M
Mabie, Louise Kennedy. (See 1915.)
Efficient Mrs. Broderick, The. L. H. J. Feb.
McCasland, Vine.
**Spring Rains. Mir. May 25.
McClure, John. (See 1916.)
**King of Sorrows, The. S. S. Nov.
McConnell, Sarah Warder.
Influence, The. Ev. Oct.
McCourt, Edna Wahlert. (See 1915.)
*David's Birthright. Sev. A. Jan.
McCoy, William M.
*Little Red Decides. Am. Dec.
*Rough Hands—But Gentle Hearts. Am. Nov.
Scum of the Earth. Col. Sept. 8.
Macfarlane, Peter Clark. (1871- .)
**Deacon Falls, The. S. E. P. Nov. 10.
Great Are Simple, The. S. E. P. Sept. 1.
Live and Let Live! S. E. P. Sept. 22.
MacGowan, Alice. (1858- .) (See 1916.)
Golden Hope, The. E. W. June 4.
MacGrath, Harold. (1871- .) (See 1915.)
*Seas That Mourn, The. Col. Oct. 6.
*Machard, Alfred.
*Repatriation. N. Y. Trib. Dec. 16.
*Machen, Arthur. (1863- .)
***Coming of the Terror, The. Cen. Oct.
Mackenzie, Cameron. (1882- .) (See 1916.)
Firm, The. S. E. P. Oct. 6.
Main-Chance Lady, The. S. E. P. Feb. 10.
Thing, The. McC. Jan.
McLaurin, Kate L. (See 1916.)
*"Sleep of the Spinning Top, The." (R.) C. O. Aug.
MacManus, Seumas. (1870- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Fluttering Wisp, The. Del. Dec.
**Lord Mayor of Buffalo, The. Del. Oct.
***Mad Man, the Dead Man, and the Devil, The. Pict. R. April.
MacNichol, Kenneth.
*Long Live Liberty! Col. June 2.
*Madeiros e Albuquerque, José de. (1867- .)
***Vengeance of Felix, The. Strat. J. Dec.
*Madrus, Lucie Delarue-. (See Delarue-Madrus, Lucie.)
Manning, Marie. (Mrs. Herman E. Gasch.) (See 1915 and 1916.)
No Clue. McC. June.
Seventeen-Year Locusts, The. Pict. R. June.
Marks, Jeannette. (1875- .) (See 1916.)
Golden Door, The. Bel. April 7.
Marquis, Don (Robert Perry). (1878- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Being a Public Character. Am. Sept.
Marriott, Crittenden. (1867- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
God's Messenger. E. W. July 16.
Marsh, George T. (See 1915 and 1916.)
**For the Great Father. Scr. March.
**Out of the Mist. Cen. April.
*Valley of the Windigo, The. Scr. June.
Marshall, Edison. (See 1916.)
Chicago Charlie Lancelot. Am. Sept.
***Man That Was in Him, The. Am. Aug.
*Vagabond or Gentleman? Am. June.
Marshall, Rachael, and Terrell, Maverick.
Heroizing of Amos Chubby, The. Pict. R. Aug.
Martin, Katharine.
*Celebrating Father. L. H. J. Nov.
*Mason, Alfred Edward Woodley. (1865- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Silver Ship, The. Met. Jan.
Mason, Grace Sartwell. (1877- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
For I'm To Be Queen of the May. E. W. April 30.
*Jessie Passes. E. W. Feb. 5.
Potato Soldier, The. E. W. Nov. 12.
Summer Wives. Met. Nov.
*Woman Who Was a Shadow, The. Met. Aug.
Masters, Edgar Lee. ("Edgar La Rue.") (1868- .)
***Boyhood Friends. Yale. Jan.
***Widow La Rue. Mir. Jan. 19.
*Maxwell, William Babington.
*Woman's Portion, The. Ev. Dec.
May, Noble.
*Mabel Plays the Game. Am. Feb.
Meaker, S. D.
Man's Own Wife, A. Scr. April.
Mellett, Berthe Knatvold. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Kolinsky. Col. March 10.
Merchant, Abby.
**Presentiment, The. Harp. M. July.
Metcalf, Thomas Newell.
Martin's Chickens. Cen. Nov.
Meyer, Ernest L.
Non Compos Mentis. (R.) Mir. Feb. 16.
Miles, Emma Bell. (See 1915.)
*Destroying Angel, The. So. Wo. M. May.
*Mille, Pierre. (1864- .)
*How They Do It. N. Y. Trib. July 8.
*Man Who Was Afraid, The. N. Y. Trib. June 24.
*Soldier Who Conquered Sleep, The. N. Y. Trib. March 11.
Miller, Helen Topping. (See 1915 and 1916.)
From Wimbleton to Wambleton. Del. March.
Minnigerode, Meade. (See 1916.)
Macaroons. S. E. P. Feb. 24.
Minuit, Peter.
*Class of 19—, The. Sev. A. June.
Modern Accident, A. Sev. A. April.
Mitchell, Mary Esther. (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Miss Barcy's Waterloo. Harp. M. Oct.
**Smaller Craft, The. Harp. M. March.
*Strike in the Mines, A. Harp. M. Nov.
*"Then Came David." Harp. M. Sept.
Mitchell, Ruth Comfort. (See 1916.)
**Call, The. Mir. March 30. N. Y. Trib. April 15.
Glory Girl, The. Cen. Dec.
*Jane Meets an Extremely Civil Engineer. Cen. Sept.
Jane Puts It Over. Cen. Jan.
*Let Nothing You Dismay! Mir. Dec. 21.
*Montgomery, Lewis A. (See "Doyle, Lynn.")
Moore, Mrs. Frederick Ferdinand. (See Gates, Eleanor.)
Moore, James Merriam.
*On an Old Army Post. Atl. July.
*Mordaunt, Elinor. (See 1915.)
***Gold Fish, The. Met. Feb.
Morley, Christopher.
*Question of Plumage, A. Bel. Jan. 20.
**Revenge. B. E. T. Feb. 28.
**Rhubarb. Col. Dec. 29.
Moroso, John Antonio. (1874- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Dad. Am. May.
*Light in the Window, The. Wom. W. Feb.
*Maggie. I. S. M. Oct. 28.
Mister Jones. I. S. M. March 4.
*Poor 'Toinette. Del. Oct.
*Shoes that Danced, The. Met. Dec.
*Uncle Jules. Del. April.
Morris, Gouverneur. (1876- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**"Death in Both Pockets." Harp. B. Sept.
*Doing Her Bit. S. E. P. Sept. 22.
*Honor Thy Father. Harp. B. Oct.
*Mary May and Miss Phyllis. Harp. B. Nov.
Senator in Pelham Bay Park, A. Col. Dec. 8.
Morton, Johnson.
Henrietta Intervenes. Harp. M. Sept.
***Understudy, The. Harp. M. Aug.
*Muenzer, Kurt. (1879- .)
"Weltfried." N. Y. Trib. Jan. 21.
Muilenburg, Walter J. (See 1915 and 1916.)
***At the End of the Road. (R.) I. S. M. May 27.
*Thanksgiving Lost and Found. To-day. Nov.
Muir, Bliss.
Wedding Dress, The. Met. July.
Muir, Ward.
**Unflawed Friendship, The. S. S. Jan.
Mumford, Ethel Watts. (Mrs. Ethel Watts-Mumford Grant.) (1878- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Bounty. G. H. May.
Opal Morning, The. McC. April.
*Second Sight of Hepsey McLean, The. Col. July 28.
N
"Nadir, A. A." (See Abdullah, Achmed)
Nafe, Gertrude. (1883- .)
***One Hundred Dollars. Cen. Feb.
Neidig, William Jonathan. (1870- .) (See 1916.)
*Camel from Home, The. Harp. M. Oct.
Gunman, The. S. E. P. March 10.
*Hair of the Dog, The. S. E. P. Dec. 15.
*Netto, Coelho. (1864- .)
***Pigeons, The. Strat. J. Dec.
Nicholson, Meredith. (1866- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Doubtful Dollars. S. E. P. Jan. 13.
***Heart of Life, The. Scr. Dec.
Made in Mazooma. Met. Feb.
Norris, Kathleen. (1880- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Children, The. Pict. R. Jan.
Norton, Roy. (1869-1917.) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Aunt Seliny. Pict. R. April.
**Fine Old Fool, The. L. H. J. July.
O
O'Brien, Howard Vincent.
Eight Minutes from the Station. L. H. J. Jan.
O'Brien, Seumas. (1880- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Bargain of Bargains, A. I. S. M. Feb. 4.
***Murder? I. S. M. Dec. 9.
O'Hara, Frank Hurburt. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Green Silk Dress, The. E. W. Jan. 22.
Sham Girl, The. E. W. April 23.
O'Higgins, Harvey J. (1876- .) (See 1915.)
**Benjamin McNeil Murdock. S. E. P. Sept. 8.
**From the Life: Sir Watson Tyler. Cen. March.
***From the Life: Thomas Wales Warren. Cen. April.
**Jane Shore. Cen. July.
*Okunev, J.
*Flanking Movement, A. Rus. R. Jan.
Oliver, Jennie Harris.
*Devil's Whirlpool, The. Del. Aug.
*Rusty. Del. Nov.
O'Neill, Eugene G.
**Tomorrow. Sev. A. June.
*Opotawshu, Joseph K. (See 1916.)
**Cabalist, The. Pag. April-May.
**New-World Idyll. Pag. Oct.-Nov.
**Night in the Forest, A. Pag. April-May.
*Oppenheim, Edward Phillips. (1866- .) (See 1916.)
Bride's Necklace, The. (R.) I. S. M. Feb. 4.
*Cunning of Harvey Grimm, The. Harp. B. Dec.
Sad Faced Hermit, The. (R.) I. S. M. Sept. 30.
Unlucky Rehearsal, An. I. S. M. Jan. 7.
O'Reilly, Edward S. (See 1916.)
**Dead or Alive. Col. Sept. 29.
Dominant Male, The. Pict. R. Dec.
Soothing the Savage Breast. Pict. R. Nov.
Two-Cylinder Lochinvar, A. Pict. R. Oct.
Osborne, (Samuel) Duffield. (1858- .) (See 1915.)
**Dark Places. Art W. Oct.
Osborne, William Hamilton. (1873- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Clandestine Career, A. S. E. P. April 14.
**Knife, The. Bel. May 12.
Kotow de Luxe. S. E. P. Nov. 3.
*Signor. Sn. St. March 4.
Osbourne, Lloyd. (1868- .) (See 1915.)
Marrying Money. S. E. P. Oct. 6.
*Out of the Mist. S. E. P. Dec. 1.
Ostrander, Isabel. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Eye for an Eye, An. I. S. M. April 29.
Followers of the Star. I. S. M. Dec. 23.
Ransom, The. I. S. M. April 1.
Winged Clue, The. I. S. M. May 27.
O'Sullivan, Vincent. (1872- .) (See 1916.)
***Interval, The. B. E. T. Sept. 8.
Oxford, John Barton.
*Importance of Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, The. Am. Oct.
P
Pain, Wellesley.
Beginner's Luck. (R.) Mir. Sept. 7.
Paine, Albert Bigelow. (1861- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Excursion in Memory, An. Harp. M. March.
Palmer, Helen.
Old Diggums. Bel. Jan. 6.
Palmer, Vance. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Island of the Dead, The. Bel. Oct. 13.
Love and the Lotus. Sun. May.
Rajah and the Rolling Stone, The. Bel. Dec. 8.
Will to Live, The. Bel. Jan. 13.
Pangborn, Georgia Wood. (1872- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Bixby's Bridge. Harp. M. March.
*Twilight Gardener, The. Touch. June.
Pattee, Loueen.
Muted Message, A. Outl. Feb. 14.
Pattullo, George. (1879- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Being Nice to Nellie. S. E. P. Jan. 27.
First Aid to M'sieu Hicks. S. E. P. Oct. 20.
Going After the Inner Meaning. S. E. P. Aug. 11.
Half a Man. S. E. P. Feb. 3.
Little Sunbeam. E. W. June 18.
Never Again! S. E. P. March 24.
*Wrong Road, The. S. E. P. Jan. 6.
Payne, Will. (1865- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Crime at Pribbles, The. S. E. P. Nov. 10.
Natural Oversight, A. S. E. P. Oct. 13.
Peake, Elmore Elliott. (1871- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Foreman of Talulla, The. Del. June.
House of Hoblitzell, The. E. W. June 11.
Wrath of Elihu, The. E. W. May 7.
Pearl, Jeanette D.
Pride. Masses. June.
Peattie, Elia Wilkinson. (1862- .) (See 1915.)
*Lion Light, The. Y. C. Nov. 1.
Peck, Ward.
Forty-Niner, The. Sun. June.
Peeler, Clare P. (See 1916.)
Jewel Song, The. E. W. July 2.
Prince Enchanted, The. E. W. Jan. 29.
Pelley, William Dudley. (See 1916.)
Courtin' Calamity. S. E. P. April 21.
*Four-Square Man, The. Am. Oct.
Jerry Out-o'-My-Way. S. E. P. March 3.
One-Thing-at-a-Time O'Day. S. E. P. May 19.
*Russet and Gold. Am. Dec.
*She's "Only a Woman." Am. Nov.
*Their Mother. Am. Aug.
Pendexter, Hugh. (1875- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Brand from the Burning, A. I. S. M.
Lost and Found. I. S. M. Sept. 2.
Pennell, Elizabeth Robins. (See Robins, Elizabeth.)
Perry, Lawrence. (1875- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***"Certain Rich Man ——, A." Scr. Nov.
Diffident Mr. Kyle, The. Harp. M. Sept.
Golf Cure, The. Scr. June.
King's Cup, The. Met. Aug.
Sea Call, The. Harp. M. June.
*Pertwee, Roland. (See 1916.)
***Camouflage. Cen. May.
Page from a Notebook, A. S. E. P. Dec. 8.
***Red and White. Cen. Aug.
Third Encounter, The. S. E. P. Jan. 20.
*Petrov, Stefan Gavrilovich. (See "Skitalets.")
*Philippe, Charles-Louis.
***Meeting, The. Mir. May 11.
*Phillpotts, Eden. (1862- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Christmas Day in the Morning. Del. Dec.
*Key to the Church, The. Del. June.
**Told to Parson. Bel. July 14. Mir. Aug. 17.
*Under Messines Ridge. Bel. Sept. 15.
Piper, Edwin Ford. (1871- .)
**Claim-Jumper, The. Mid. Dec.
**In a Public Place. Mid. Dec.
**In the Canyon. Mid. Oct.
**Joe Taylor. Mid. Dec.
**Man With the Key Once More, The. Mid. Dec.
**Meanwhile. Mid. April.
**Mister Dwiggins. Mid. Dec.
**Nathan Briggs. Mid. Dec.
**Ridge Farm, The. Mid. Oct.
**Well Digger, The. Mid. Feb.
Piper, Margaret Rebecca. (1879- .)
**Boy's Will, A. Harp. M. Feb.
Pitt, Chart.
*Law of the Abalone, The. B. C. July.
Porter, Harold Everett. (See "Hall, Holworthy.")
Porter, Laura Spencer. (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Boy's Mother, The. Harp. M. June.
***Idealist, The. Harp. M. April.
Post, Melville Davisson. (1871- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Act of God, An. (R.) I. S. M. March 4.
**Adopted Daughter, The. (R.) I. S. M. May 13.
**Devil's Tools, The. (R.) I. S. M. Dec. 9.
**Lord Winton's Adventure. Hear. June.
*Pacifist, The. S. E. P. Dec. 29.
***Riddle, The. (R.) I. S. M. Jan. 21.
***Straw Man, The. (R.) I. S. M. June 10.
**Wage-Earners, The. S. E. P. Sept. 15.
*Witch of the Lecca, The. Hear. Jan.
Pottle, Emery.
***Breach in the Wall, The. Harp. M. March.
Mistake in the Horoscope, A. Harp. M. Nov.
Music Heavenly Maid. Col. Feb. 24.
***Portrait, The. Touch. Dec.
Sophie's Great Moment. McC. Sept.
Pratt, Lucy. (1874- .) (See 1916.)
**Sunny Door, The. Pict. R. June.
Prouty, Olive Higgins. (1882- .) (See 1916.)
***New England War Bride, A. Ev. May.
Pluck. Am. Feb.
Price of Catalogues, The. Ev. Jan.
Unwanted. Am. May.
Pulver, Mary Brecht. (1883- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Good Fight, The. S. E. P. May 5.
Inept Lover, The. S. E. P. Dec. 8.
*Long Carry, The. S. E. P. Oct. 20.
Man-Hater, The. S. E. P. June 9.
Man Who Was Afraid, The. S. E. P. Feb. 10.
***Path of Glory, The. S. E. P. March 10.
Pomegranate Coat, The. S. E. P. Jan. 13.
Putnam, Nina Wilcox. (1888- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Spring Night, A. Ev. Feb.
Q
*Quiller-Couch, Sir Arthur Thomas. (1863- .)
**Fire at Rescrugga, The. Bel. March 24.
**"Not Here, O Apollo!" Bel. May 19.
**Pilot Matthey's Christmas. Bel. Dec. 22.
R
R., J.
Wrestlers. (R.) Mir. Feb. 9.
Raisin, Ovro'om. (See 1916.)
***Ascetic, The. Pag. Dec.
Raphael, John N. (See 1916.)
*From Marie-Anne to Anne-Marie. Ev. Oct.
Reed, John (S). (1887- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Buccaneer's Grandson, The. Met. Jan.
Reely, Mary Katharine.
*Doctor Goes North, A. Mid. Nov.
**Mothers' Day. Mid. May.
Reese, Lowell Otus. (See 1916.)
Constable of Copper Sky, The. S. E. P. March 31.
Grandpa Makes Him Sick. S. E. P. Feb. 10.
*Kentucky Turns. S. E. P. March 17.
Pariah, The. S. E. P. Aug. 25.
Reighard, J. Gamble.
Pedro. Bel. June 23.
"Relonde, Maurice."
**Delightful Legend, A. Sev. A. March.
Reyher, Ferdinand M. (1891- .) (See 1916.)
Astor Place. S. E. P. April 21.
Rice, Margaret.
**Harvest Home. Touch. Nov.
Rich, Bertha A. (See 1916.)
Goat Man and Nancy, The. Am. July.
Richard, Hetty Hemenway. (See Hemenway, Hetty Lawrence.)
Richards, Raymond.
*Chink, The. B. C. March.
Richardson, Anna Steese. (1865- .)
Not a Cent in the House. McC. June-July.
Richardson, Norval. (1877- .)
**Adelaide. Scr. Aug.
***Miss Fothergill. Scr. Oct.
**Mrs. Merryweather. Scr. Sept.
**Sheila. Scr. Nov.
Richmond, Grace S.
Taking It Standing. (R.) C. O. Dec.
Whistling Mother, The. L. H. J. Aug.
Richter, Conrad. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Girl That "Got" Colly, The. L. H. J. May.
Sure Thing, The. S. E. P. Nov. 17.
Rideout, Henry Milner. (1877- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Hury Seke. S. E. P. Sept. 22.
Riggs, Kate Douglas Wiggin. (See Wiggin, Kate Douglas.)
*Rinck, C. A.
***Song, The. N. Y. Trib. Jan. 7.
Rinehart, Mary Roberts. (1876- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Bab's Burglar. S. E. P. May 12.
*Down Happy Valley. (R.) I. S. M. Nov. 25.
G. A. C., The. S. E. P. June 2.
Her Dairy. S. E. P. Feb. 17.
Tish Does Her Part. S. E. P. July 28.
Twenty-Two. Met. June.
Rinehart, Robert E.
*And Tezla Laughed. Par. Feb.
Ritchie, Robert Welles. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Blue Bob Comes Home. Col. July 28.
Dreadful Fleece, The. Sun. Aug.
Light That Burned All Night, The. Sun. Oct.
**Road to Sundance, The. Col. June 16.
*Rods of the Law. Harp. M. April.
Schoolma'am's Little Lamp, The. L. H. J. March.
Shuttle, The. E. W. Oct. 22.
*Trail from Desolation, The. S. E. P. Sept. 29.
Rix, George.
Russet Bag, The. Sun. Sept.
Robbins, F. E. C.
*Good Listener, A. Y. C. Nov. 8.
**Writer of Fiction, A. Y. C. Oct. 4.
Robbins, Royal.
*After Fifty Years. So. Wo. M. Dec.
Roberts, Charles George Douglas. (See 1915.)
*Eagle, The. Cos. Nov.
Roberts, Kenneth L.
Good Will and Almond Shells. S. E. P. Dec. 22.
*Roberts, Morley. (1857- .)
**Man Who Lost His Likeness, The. Met. Sept.
Robertson, Edna.
*Moon Maid, The. I. S. M. July 22.
Robins, Elizabeth. (Mrs. Joseph Pennell.) (1855- .) (See 1915.)
*Tortoise-shell Cat, The. Cos. Aug.
Robinson, Eloise. (1889- .) (See 1916.)
*Bargain in a Baby, A. Harp. M. July.
*Beautiful as the Morning. Harp. M. Dec.
*Idols and Images. Harp. M. Feb.
*Infant Tenderness, The. Harp. M. April.
Roche, Arthur Somers. (See 1915.)
Scent of Apple Blossoms, The. S. E. P. Feb. 10.
Roe, Vingie E. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Broken Hilt, The. Col. Aug. 11.
Euphemia Miller. Col. Feb. 3.
*Little Boy Makes It Through, The. Sun. Nov.
Little Boy of Panther Mountain, The. Sun. July.
Pocket Hunter, The. Sun. Dec.
Smoky Face. Col. June 9.
True-Bred. Col. Nov. 17.
Rogers, Howard O.
Jenkins' Secret. Sun. July.
*"Rohmer, Sax." (Arthur Sarsfield Ward.) (1883- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Black Chapel, The. Col. June 2.
House of Hashish. Col. Feb. 17.
Ki-Ming. Col. March 3.
*Shrine of Seven Lamps. Col. April 21.
*Valley of the Just, The. Pict. R. Sept.
Zagazig Cryptogram, The. Col. Jan. 6.

Rosenblatt, Benjamin. (1880- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Madonna, The. Mid. Sept.
***Menorah, The. (R.) I. S. M. July 8.
Rothery, Julian. (See 1916.)
*Idaho Thriller, An. Am. Jan.
*Legend of 'Frisco Bar, The. Am. April.
Rouse, William Merriam. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Dog Fight, The. Bel. May 5.
In the Name of the Great Jehovah. For. Jan.
*Light in the Valley, The. Bel. Dec. 29.
*Pete the Gump. Bel. Feb. 24.
*Strawberry Shortcake. Y. C. July 5.
*Strength of Simeon Niles, The. Mid. March.
Russell, John. (See 1916.)
*Doubloon Gold. S. E. P. Jan. 20.
*East of Eastward. Col. Oct. 20.
**Fourth Man, The. Col. Jan. 6.
Jetsam. Col. Feb. 24.
*Jonah. S. E. P. Sept. 15.
*Lost God, The. Col. Aug. 18.
**Meaning—Chase Yourself. Col. March 17.
**Practicing of Christopher, The. Col. Dec. 29.
*Wicks of Macassar, The. Col. Jan. 27.
Wise Men, The. Del. Jan.-Feb.
Rutledge, Archibald (Hamilton). (1883- .)
*Terrible Brink, The. B. C. April.
"Rutledge, Marice." (See Van Saanen, Marie Louise.)
Ryder, Charles T. (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Rahim of the Hollow Tree. Bel. Sept. 22.
Ryerson, Florence. (See 1915.)
Apartment No. 3. E. W. Oct. 1.
S
Saanen, Marie Louise van. (See Van Saanen, Marie Louise.)
Sabin, Edwin L(egrand). (1870- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Best Man. Sun. Aug.
*True Blood. Mun. Dec.
*Saltykov, M. Y. ("N. Schedrin.")
***Hungry Officials and the Accommodating Muzhik, The. (R.) C. O. Sept.
*"Sapper."
**Awakening of John Walters, The. Col. Nov. 3.
*Point of Detail, A. Col. Aug. 4.
Sawhill, Myra.
Acid Test, The. Am. Feb.
Sawyer, Ruth. (Mrs. Albert C. Durand.) (1880- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Man Who Wouldn't Die, The. L. H. J. April.
*Wee Lad on the Road to Arden, The. L. H. J. March.
Saxby, Charles. (See 1916.)
*Reginald Sydney and the Enemy Spy. Sh. St. Oct.
*Scapinelli, Count Carl.
Russian Lead. N. Y. Trib. Feb. 11.
Schaick, George Van. (See Van Schaick, George.)
*"Schedrin, N." (See Saltykov, M. Y.)
Schneider, Herman. (1872- .)
**Arthur McQuaid, American. Outl. May 23.
***Shaft of Light, A. Outl. Aug. 22.
Schneider, Louis.
*Their Piece of Art. B. C. March.
Scott, Harold H.
*Checkmate. Sun. Feb.
Scott, Leroy. (1875- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Fate of Mary Regan, The. Met. Nov.
Golden Doors, The. Met. May.
Life Pulls the Strings. Met. March.
Mary Goes Alone. Met. July.
Master of Dreams, The. Met. Oct.
Return of Mary Regan, The. Met. Feb.
Squire of Dames, The. Met. Sept.
Testing of Mary Regan, The. Met. Aug.
Scott, Mildred Wilkes.
"In Time." Del. Sept.
Scott, Rose Naomi. (See 1916.)
**Chasm of a Night, The. So. Wo. M. Oct.
Sears, Mary.
Expectations. (R.) Mir. Aug. 31.
*Seefeld, Hans.
"In the Woods Stands a Hillock." N. Y. Trib. Feb. 4.
Shawe, Victor.
Book and the Believers, The. S. E. P. June 2.
Sheldon, Mary Boardman.
*Aunts Redundant. Harp. M. Jan.
Shepherd, William Gunn.
*Bell, The. Bel. Feb. 17.
***Scar that Tripled, The. Met. July.
Shipp, Margaret Busbee.
Kitten in the Market, A. Ev. Aug.
Showerman, Grant. (1870- .) (See 1916.)
***Country Christmas, A. Cen. Dec.
**Old Neighbors. Mid. Oct.
**Summertime. Mid. Sept.
*Simpson, Horace J.
Epic of Old Cark, The. B. C. April.
Simpson, John Lowrey.
**Holiday in France, A. N. Rep. Oct. 20.
*Sinclair, May. (See 1915.)
**Portrait of My Uncle. Cen. Jan.
Singmaster, Elsie. (Elsie Singmaster Lewars.) (1879- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Christmas Angel, The. Pict. R. Dec.
**Eye of Youth, The. B. E. T. Sept. 19.
***Flag of Eliphalet, The. B. E. T. May 29.
*House of Dives, The. Bel. Nov. 10.
Skinner, Constance (Lindsay). (See 1915.)
*Label, The. E. W. March 19.
*"Skitalets." (Stepan Gavrilovich Petrov.)
***And the Forest Burned. Rus. R. Feb.
Slyke, Lucille Van. (See Van Slyke, Lucille.)
Smith, Elizabeth C. A. (See "Breck, John.")
Smith, Gordon Arthur. (1886- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***End of the Road, The. Scr. Aug.
***Friend of the People, A. Pict. R. Oct.
Smith, Kate.
*Near the Turn of the Road. For. June.
Sneddon, Robert W. (1880- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Bright Star of Onésime. Sn. St. Oct. 18.
*Doll, The. Sn. St. June 4.
*"I Shew You a Mystery." Sn. St. Oct. 4.
**Le Rabouin—Soldier of France. S. E. P. May 12.
***"Mirror! Mirror! Tell Me True!" Bel. Feb. 3.
**Mute, The. Bel. Dec. 15.
*Nest for Ninette, A. Par. June.
**Prosperity's Pinch. Par. Oct.
*Two Who Waited, The. Sau. St. Oct.
Sothern, Edward Hugh. (1859- .)
Lost and Found. Scr. Aug.
*Soutar, Andrew. (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Behind the Veil. To-day. Dec.
*Ingrate, The. I. S. M. June 24.
My Lady's Kiss. Pict. R. Dec.
**Step on the Road, The. Pict. R. July.
Spadoni, Adriana. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Foreladies. Masses. March.
Spears, Raymond Smiley. (1876- .)
*"Levee Holds! The." Col. Nov. 10.
*Miller of Fiddler's Run, The. Col. Aug. 11.
Springer, Fleta Campbell. (See Campbell, Fleta.)
Springer, Norman. (See 1915.)
*Recruit, A. S. E. P. Nov. 10.
"Star, Mark."
***Garden of Sleep, The. Pag. April-May.
Starrett, William Aiken. (1877- .)
**Marked "Shop." Atl. July.
Stearns, L. D.
*Game, The. So. Wo. M. Aug.
Stearns, M. M. (See "Amid, John.")
Steele, Alice Garland. (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Homing Bird, The. Wom. W. Nov.
Miracle of It, The. L. H. J. Oct.
Mrs. Deering's Answer. Ev. Aug.
Steele, Rufus (Milas). (1877- .) (See 1915.)
Young Man's Game, A. S. E. P. Nov. 3.
Steele, Wilbur Daniel. (1886- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Ching, Ching, Chinaman. Pict. R. June.
***Devil of a Fellow, A. Sev. A. April.
***Down on Their Knees. (R.) I. S. M. Aug. 5.
***Free. Cen. Aug.
**Half Ghost, The. Harp. M. July.
***Ked's Hand. Harp. M. Sept.
***Point of Honor, A. Harp. M. Nov.
***White Hands. Pict. R. Jan.
***Woman at Seven Brothers, The, Harp. M. Dec.
Steffens, (Joseph) Lincoln. (1866- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Bunk. Ev. Feb.
***Great Lost Moment, The. Ev. March.
Stern, Elizabeth Gertrude.
**On Washington—Lincoln's Birthday. W. H. C. Feb.
Stewart, Alpheus.
Medal Winner, The. Mir. Jan. 12.
Stewart, Lucy Shelton.
*Wolves of Bixby's Hollow, The. Am. Feb.
Stoddard, William Leavitt. (1884- .)
Disciplined. Ev. July.
*Stoker, Bram. (Abraham Stoker.) ( -1912.)
**Dracula's Guest. Sh. St. Jan.
Stores, Caryl B.
*Teenie an' Aggie Take an Outing. (R.) C. O. Oct.
"Storm, Ethel."
**Burned Hands. Harp. B. Nov.
Sullivan, Alan. (See 1915.)
***Only Time He Smiled, The. E. W. Dec. 31.
Sullivan, Francis William. (See 1915.)
Godson of Jeannette Gontreau, The. L. H. J. Oct.
*Swinton, Lt. Col. Ernest Dunlop. ("Eye-Witness.") (1868- .) (See 1915 under "Eye-Witness.")
*Private Riley. Sh. St. June.
Synon, Mary. (1881- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Clay-Shattered Doors. Scr. July.
***End of the Underground, The. G. H. June.
***None So Blind. Harp. M. Oct.
*One of the Old Girls. Harp. B. May.
**Wallaby Track, The. Scr. Feb.
T
Taber, Elizabeth Stead.
***Scar, The. Sev. A. Jan.
Tarkington, (Newton) Booth. (1869- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Fairy Coronet, The. Met. March.
*Only Child, The. Ev. Jan.
*Sam's Beau. Cos. April.
*Walter-John. Cos. Nov.
Tassin, Algernon. (See 1915.)
**Winter Wheat. G. H. Jan.
Taylor, Arthur Russell. ( -1918.)
Mr. Smiley. Atl. Nov.
**Mr. Squem. Atl. June.
*Mr. Thornton. Atl. Sept.
Taylor, John.
*U. S. Harem Association, Ltd., The. Scr. May.
Taylor, Mary Imlay.
*Aunt Lavender's Meeting Bonnet. Y. C. Feb. 1.
*Tchekov, Anton Pavlovitch. (1860-1904.) (See 1915 and 1916.)
***Dushitchka. Pag. Sept.
***Old Age. (R.) Mir. Feb. 2.
**Trousseau, The. (R.) Touch. Aug.
*"Teffie."
*Teacher, The. Outl. Oct. 17.
Terhune, Albert Payson. (1872- .)
Caritas. S. E. P. Dec. 15.
Night of the Dub, The. S. E. P. March 31.
*"Quiet." Pict. R. July.
Terrell, Maverick. (See Marshall, Rachael, and Terrell, Maverick.)
Terry, Katherine. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Leaf in the Wind, A. I. S. M. Oct. 14.
Tharp, Vesta. (See 1916.)
Connie Cuts a Wisdom-Tooth. Scr. Jan.
Thayer, Mabel Dunham.
People and Things. Met. Aug.
*Thomas, Edward. ("Edward Eastaway.") (1878-1917.)
***Passing of Pan, The. (R.) Mir. Dec. 14.
Thomas, (Stanley Powers) Rowland. (1879- .)
*Mistress. Pear. Nov.
Thompson, Lillian Bennet-. (See 1916.) (See also Hubbard, George, and Thompson, Lillian Bennet-.)
*In Fifteen Minutes. L. St. July.
*Prisoner, The. Sn. St. April 4.
*Together. L. St. Oct.
*"Thorne, Guy." (Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger Gull.) (1876- .)
**Guilt. I. S. M. Oct. 28.
*Thurston, Ernest Temple. (1879- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Over the Hills. Ain. July.
Thurston, Mabel Nelson. (See 1916.)
Answer, The. E. W. July 2.
*771. Am. Oct.
Ticknor, Caroline.
Skaters, The. Bel. Oct. 20.
Tilden, Freeman. (See 1915.)
Affections of Lucile, The. E. W. June 11.
Customary Two Weeks, The. S. E. P. Feb. 24-March 3.
Jitney Tactics. E. W. Aug. 13.
Knowledge of Beans, A. E. W. Oct. 8.
Not for Ordinary Folks. S. E. P. Oct. 27.
Peggitt Pays the Freight. S. E. P. April 21.
Stannerton & Sons. S. E. P. Sept. 15.
Thrift of Martha, The. S. E. P. July 21.
Titus, Harold. (See 1916.)
*Lars the Unthinking. Ev. May.
Tolman, Albert W. (See 1916.)
*After the Flash. Y. C. Jan. 11.
*Painting Healthy Hal. Y. C. Sept. 27.
*Tolstoi, Count Alexis N. (See 1916.)
**Under-Seas. Bookman. April.
*Tolstoi, Count Lyof Nikolaevich. (1828-1910.)
*Young Tsar, The. Rus. R. July.
Tooker, Lewis Frank. (1855- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Home-Makers, The. Scr. March.
*Immoral Reformation of Billy Lunt, The. Cen. Jan.
Torrey, Grace.
Enfranchised. Sun. Nov.
Train, Arthur (Cheney). (1875- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Earthquake, The. S. E. P. Dec. 29.
*Helenka. S. E. P. Jan. 27.
*Pillikin. S. E. P. Dec. 1
Train, Ethel. (Mrs. Arthur Train.) (See 1916.)
With Care; Fragile. S. E. P. May 26.
Trites, William Budd. (1872- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Bleecker Street Bleecker, A. McC. Nov.
Truitt, Charles.
*Omelette Soufflé, The. Ev. Dec.
Tsanoff, Corrinne and Radoslav.
**Shoulders of Atlas, The. Atl. Jan.
Tupper, Edith Sessions. (See 1916.)
*Black Waters. So. Wo. M. April.
Turnbull, Archibald D.
*François' Journey. Scr. March.
*When Our Flag Came to Paris. Scr. Nov.
Turner, George Kibbe. (1869- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Bull on America, A. S. E. P. May 19.
Danger of Safety, The. S. E. P. March 10.
Little More Capital, A. S. E. P. April 14.
Miracle Peddlers, The. S. E. P. March 31.
Turner, Maude Sperry.
Adabee and Creation. Del. Sept.
U
Underhill, Ruth Murray.
*New Emilia, The. Del. Dec.
Underwood, Sophie Kerr. (See Kerr, Sophie.)
Uzzell, Thomas H. (See 1915 and 1916.) (See also Uzzell, Thomas H., and Abdullah, Achmed.)
End of a Ribbon, The. Col. Aug. 4.
Switchboard to Berlin, A. Col. May 19.
Uzzell, Thomas H., and Abdullah, Achmed. (1881- .) (See also Abdullah, Achmed.)
**Diplomacy. Col. Dec. 8.
V
Vail, Laurence. (See 1916.)
*Selysette. For. Aug.
Van Campen, Helen (Green). (1883- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Big-Game Hut on Kenai, The. S. E. P. Feb. 3.
Chechako Wife, The. S. E. P. March 24.
George Bell's New Teacher. S. E. P. March 24.
Luck of a Sourdough, The. S. E. P. Jan. 6.
Van Dyke, Catherine.
Chaperoning Mother. L. H. J. April.
Van Dyke, Henry. (1852- .) (See 1915.)
**Remembered Dream, A. Scr. Aug.
*Vane, Derek.
*As It Happened. I. S. M. Aug. 19.
Van Horne, Margaret Varney.
*Curse, The. Mid. June.
Van Loan, Charles Emmett. (1876- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Animal Stuff. S. E. P. May 5.
Fifth Reel, The. S. E. P. Aug. 18.
Fog. S. E. P. Feb. 24.
Gentlemen, You Can't Go Through! S. E. P. April 28.
Little Poison Ivy. S. E. P. Oct. 6.
Major, D. O. S., The. S. E. P. Aug. 4.
Man Who Quit, The. S. E. P. Nov. 3.
Not in the Script. Col. Sept. 1-8.
Ooley-Cow, The. S. E. P. Nov. 17.
Out of His Class. Col. Feb. 3.
Scene Two-Fifty-Two. S. E. P. May 26.
Stunt Man, The. S. E. P. April 21.
Thrill Shooter, The. S. E. P. March 17.
Tods. S. E. P. June 16.
Van Loon, Hendrik Willem. (1882- .) (See 1916.)
*Logic of Tippoo Na Gai, The. N. Rep. May 12. Mir. June 8.
Van Saanen, Marie Louise. ("Marice Rutledge.") (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Between Trains. Bookman. June.
**Little Blue Flower, The. Touch. May.
*"Rat, Le." Touch. Aug.
**Soldier, The. Bookman. July.
Van Schaick, George. (See 1915.)
Accounting, The. Sun. March.
Van Slyke, Lucille Baldwin. (1880- .) (See 1916.)
Regular Sport, The. Col. March 24.
Venable, Edward Carrington. (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Preface. Scr. July.
Six-Feet-Four. Scr. Nov.
Vorse, Mary (Marvin) Heaton. (Mary Heaton Vorse O'Brien.) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Adventure in Respectability, An. Harp. M. July.
***Great God, The. W. H. C. March.
***Pavilion of Saint Merci, The. For. Dec.
*Pride. Harp. M. Nov.
W
*Wadsley, Olive.
*Son of His. Sn. St. March 18.
Walcott, John.
On With the Dance. Col. Sept. 8.
Wall, R. N.
Ounce of Loyalty, An. Ev. Oct.
Usurper, The. S. E. P. June 23.
Wallace, Edgar. (1875- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Bones and a Lady. Col. Aug. 25.
Breaking Point, The. Col. Oct. 6.
*Case of Lasky, The. Ev. Nov.
*Coming of Müller, The. Ev. Dec.
Eye to Eye. Col. April 7.
*Puppies of the Pack. Ev. Nov.
*Son of Sandi, The. Col. Dec. 1.
*Strafing of Müller, The. Ev. Dec.
*Tam o' the Scoots. Ev. Nov.-Dec.
Waters of Madness, The. Col. July 7.
Warren, Maude Radford. (1875- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Ideals. Harp. M. Jan.
Sit on a Cushion and Sew a Fine Seam. Del. Sept.
Washburn, Beatrice.
*Until Six O'Clock. Bel. March 31.
Wasson, David A. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Bête Noire, La. Bel. Jan. 27.
*Female of the Species, The. (R.) B. C. April.
Wayne, Charles Stokes. ("Horace Hazeltine.") (1858- .)
*Delicate Matter, A. S. S. Jan.
Webster, Henry Kitchell. (1875- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Accidental, The. Met. Dec.
Dorothy for the Day. Met. Nov.
Webster, Malcolm B.
*"Kaiser's Masterpiece, The." Sn. St. March 4.
Weir, F(lorence) Roney. (1861- .) (See 1915.)
Cavalry Charge, A. Pict. R. Dec.
Welles, Harriet.
**Admiral's Birthday, The. Scr. Dec.
*Anchors Aweigh. Scr. Aug.
*Holding Mast. Scr. Oct.
Wells, Carolyn. (See 1915.)
Re-echo Club, The. Harp. M. July.
Wells, Leila Burton. (See 1915 and 1916.)
*"Being Wicked." McC. Aug.
Weston, George. (1880- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Madame Pharaoh's Daughter. S. E. P. Dec. 1.
**Medal of M. Moulin, The. S. E. P. Aug. 25.
***Perfect Gentleman, A. S. E. P. June 9.
Putting the Bee in Herbert. S. E. P. April 28.
Wharton, Elna Harwood. (See 1916.)
Great American Game, The. Del. May.
Laura Intervenes. Del. April.
Wheeler, Griswold.
*Bread Upon the Waters, The. B. C. Dec.
White, Stewart Edward. (1873- .) (See 1915.)
*Case of Mutual Respect, A. S. E. P. Oct. 27.
*Edge of the Ripple, The. Harp. M. May.
*Forced Labor. S. E. P. Sept. 15.
*Gunbearer, The. S. E. P. Oct. 6.
*Naming, The. S. E. P. July 21.
*Trelawney Learns. S. E. P. Aug. 18.
True Sportsmen. S. E. P. Sept. 1.
*White Magic. S. E. P. Aug. 4.
Whiteside, Mary Brent.
*Pour la Patrie. So. Wo. M. July.
Whitson, Beth Slater. (See 1916.)
*Beyond the Foot of the Hill. So. Wo. M. June.
Widdemer, Margaret. (See 1915.)
*Black Magic. Sev. A. Sept.
**Fairyland Heart, The. Bel. Aug. 18.
Wiggin, Kate Douglas. (Kate Douglas Wiggin Riggs.) (1859- .)
**Quilt of Happiness, The. L. H. J. Dec.
Wilcoxson, Elizabeth Gaines.
*Mrs. Martin's Daughter-in-Law. E. W. Sept. 17.
*Substitute Courtship, A. Sun. Feb.
Wiley, Hugh.
**Here Froggy, Froggy. Scr. Oct.
*King of Two-By-Four, The. Col. Nov. 3.
*Mushroom Midas, A. Scr. Sept.
On the Altar of Hunger. Scr. Aug.
*Sooey Pig! Col. Sept. 15.
Wilkins, Mary E. (See Freeman, Mary E. Wilkins-.)
Williams, Ben Ames.
**Mate of the Susie Oakes, The. S. E. P. April 14.
**Squealer, The. Col. Sept. 1.
**Steve Scævola. S. E. P. Nov. 24.
Williams, Frances Foster.
His Mother. Sun. June.
Willie, Linda Buntyn.
*Things We Hope For, The. Am. June.
Wilson, John Fleming. (1877- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
*Highroad, The. E. W. Aug. 20.
Pain of Youth, The. E. W. April 23.
Phantom Circuit, The. S. E. P. March 3.
Plain Jane. E. W. Dec. 10.
Sea Power. S. E. P. March 17.
War for the Succession, The. Col. April 21.
Wilson, Margaret Adelaide. (See 1916.)
*Mr. Root. Bel. May 26.
*Rain-Maker, The. Scr. April.
**Res Aeternitatis. Bel. Aug. 25.
Winslow, Horatio. (See 1915 and 1916.)
**Four on the Beach. Bel. Nov. 24.
*Mrs. Beddens's Great Story. Col. Jan. 13.
*Woman Sinister, The. Mir. April 13.
Winslow, Thyra Samter.
*End of Anna, The. S. S. Sept.
*Pier Glass, The. S. S. March.
Witwer, H. C. (See 1916.)
Alex Comes Up Smiling. Am. Dec.
Alex the Great. Am. Nov.
Cup That Queers, The. Am. June.
Cutey and the Beast. Am. May.
Lend Me Your Ears. S. E. P. March 3.
Maiden's Prayer, The. Am. Jan.
Pearls Before Klein. Am. Aug.
Pleasure Island. McC. Jan.
Robinson's Trousseau. Am. March.
Unhappy Medium, The. McC. April.
Warriors All. S. E. P. July 14.
Your Girl and Mine. Am. Sept.
*Wodehouse, Pelham Grenville. (1881- .) (See 1915 and 1916.)
Jeeves and the Hard-Boiled Egg. S. E. P. March 3.
Wolff, William Almon. (See 1916.)
Efficient One, The. E. W. Jan. 15.
*False Colors. Col. Dec. 22.
High Cost of Peggy, The. Ev. April.
Luck. E. W. Aug. 6.
**Man Who Found His Country, The. Ev. June.
Play for Miss Dane, A. Ev. Nov.
Prince's Tale, The. Del. June.
Slackers, The. Ev. Aug.
Unknown Goddess, The. Am. March.
Wonderly, W. Carey. (See 1915 and 1916.)
Johnny Marsh and His Meal Ticket. I. S. M. Jan. 21.
Wood, Jr., Leonard. (See 1915.)
*Until To-morrow. Scr. Jan.
*Wray, Roger.
**Episode, An. Cen. Feb.
Wyatt, Phyllis. (See Brown, Phyllis Wyatt.)
*Wylie, I. A. R. (See 1916.)
**Candles for St. Nicholas. Col. Dec. 22.
***Holy Fire. G. H. Oct.
***'Melia No-Good. G. H. July.
***Return, The. G. H. Aug.