most active workers for the Irish National Theater. He is an efficient
member of those cooeperative societies which are trying to improve
Ireland's industrial and agricultural conditions.

Russell's poetry is highly spiritual. Sometimes it is so mystical that
like Prospero's messenger, Ariel, it vanishes into thin air. His
shadowy pictures of nature and his lyrical beauty and tenderness are
evident in two little volumes of his verse, _Homeward Songs by the
Way_ (1894) and _The Divine Vision_ (1904). This Stanza from _Beauty_,
in _The Divine Vision_, shows his spiritual longing for quiet, peace,
and beauty, in which to worship his Creator:--

"Oh, twilight, fill in pearl dew, each healing drop may bring
Some image of the song the Quiet seems to sing.

My spirit would have beauty to offer at the shrine,
And turn dull earth to gold and water into wine,
And burn in fiery dreams each thought till thence refined
It may have power to mirror the mighty Master's mind."[4]

Fiona Macleod.--All the work of William Sharp that he published
under the pseudonym of "Fiona Macleod" belongs to this Celtic
Renaissance. Born in 1856 at Paisley, Scotland, he settled in London
in 1878, and became widely known as William Sharp, the critic. When he
turned to his boyhood's home, the West Highlands of Scotland, for
inspiration, he wrote, under the pen-name of Fiona Macleod, poetic
prose stories and many poems about these Scotch Celts. He kept the
secret of his identity so well that not until his death in 1905 was it
known that Fiona Macleod, the mystic, was William Sharp, the critic.

_Mountain Lovers_ (1895), a romantic novel of primitive people who
live with nature in her loneliness, mystery, and terror, and who
possess an instinctive, speechless, and poetic knowledge of her moods,
is one of the earliest and most interesting of his long novels. He
excels in the short story. Some of his finest work in this field is in
_The Sin Eater_ (1895), which contains uncanny tales of quaint,
strongly-marked highland characters with their weird traditions.

_From the Hills of Dream_ (1901) and _The Hour of Beauty_ (1907) are
two small volumes of short poems full of the witchery of dreams, of
death, of youth, and of lonely scenes. These poems come from a land
far off from our common world. Delicacy of fancy, a freedom from any
touch of impurity, a beauty as of "dew-sweet moon-flowers glimmering
white through the mirk of a dust laden with s