Fines herbes. Vegetable greens.
En maître. As master.
A RETRIEVED REFORMATION
By O. HENRY
The story of self-sacrifice has appealed to people in all times, whether it appears in history,—as in the partly legendary story of Arnold von Winkelried, who gathered the Austrian spears against his breast in order that his comrades might make a way through the ranks of the enemy,—or in fiction, as in Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. Such a story is particularly fascinating, when, as in the story of Sidney Carton, it combines the idea of self-sacrifice with that of fundamental change in character.
In A Retrieved Reformation O. Henry has told, in a convincingly brilliant way, how a man—always really good at heart,—even when set in evil ways—was led through love to develop his better self. The greatness of Jimmy Valentine’s soul is made clear by his instant willingness to sacrifice every hope he had,—to lay everything on the altar of love and manliness.
The quick, realistic, kindly-humorous characterizations, the clear, logical arrangement of opposing forces, the dramatic situation at the climax, and the instant solution,—for which every step has inevitably prepared,—point alike to a master hand in story telling.
William Sidney Porter, 1867-1910,—better known by the name, “O. Henry,” which he chose humorously because it is so easy to write “O,” and because he happened to see “Henry” as a last name in a newspaper account,—achieved as much popularity as any short story writer could desire. He was born in North Carolina, and brought up in Texas, where he gained the little schooling that fell to his lot. He became a sort of rolling stone, working on various periodicals, living in South America, working in Texas as a drug clerk, engaging fully in literary work in New Orleans, and finally coming to New York City where he sold stories as fast as he could write them—and his powers of production were most astonishing. He was only 42 when he died, but, in spite of his wandering life, he had made himself, with almost careless ease, the master of the short story. He wrote quite untrammeled by convention or custom, using slang, coining words, writing in any way he pleased, but always, in reality, following the best principles of story telling, making his plots clear, convincing, and full of the unexpected humors of life. With it all he wrote with a spirit of gentleness and often touched real pathos. His favorite method was to surprise the reader by bringing him to a most unexpected climax.
BROTHER LEO
By PHYLLIS BOTTOME
The world is so full of selfishness, and resulting misery, that every one more or less often thinks how different life would be if every individual were to be ideal. Somewhere, somehow, we think, must be a Utopia where everything is as it should be.
Brother Leo is not a fantastic dream of some unreal place. It is a simply beautiful story of a monk who had known no other life than that in his monastic retreat on an island near Venice. There, in a sort of heaven on earth, in a life of extreme simplicity, the young man, untouched by the world, developed all that should characterize us in our daily lives. For one day he goes out into the city, comes into touch with its veneer and dishonesty, and goes back joyfully, without the slightest regret, into his calm retreat.