bout to publish his scholarly and ingenious
essay upon "The Discoverer of Shakespeare." Mr. Head is as
enthusiastic a Shakespeare student as we have in the West, and his
enthusiasm is tempered by a certain reverence which has led him to
view with dismay, if not with horror, the exploits of latter-day
iconoclasts, who would fain convince the credulous that what has
been was not and that he who once wrought never existed. It was Mr.
Head who gave to the world several years ago the charming brochure
wherein Shakespeare's relations and experience with insomnia were so
pleasantly set forth, and now the public is to be favored with a
second essay, one of greater value to the Shakespearian student, in
that it deals directly and intimately and explicitly with the
earlier years of the poet's life. This essay was read before the
Chicago Literary Club several weeks ago, and would doubtless not
have been published but for the earnest solicitations of General
McClurg, the Rev. Dr. Herrick Johnson, Colonel J.S. Norton, and
other local literary patrons, who recognized Mr. Head's work as a
distinctly valuable contribution to Shakespeariana. Answering the
importunities of these sagacious critics, the author will publish
the essay, supplementing it with notes and appendices.

Of the interesting narrative given by Mr. Head, it is our present
purpose to make as complete a review as the limits afforded us this
morning will allow, and we enter into the task with genuine
timidity, for it is no easy thing to give in so small a compass a
fair sketch of the tale and the argument which Mr. Head has
presented so entertainingly, so elegantly, and so persuasively.

Before his courtship of, and marriage with, Anne Hathaway,
Shakespeare was comparatively unknown. By a few boon companions he
was recognized as a gay and talented young fellow, not wholly averse
to hazardous adventure, as his famous connection with a certain
poaching affair demonstrated. Shakespeare's father was a pious man,
who was properly revered by his neighbors. The son was not held in
such high estimation by these simple folk. "Willie, thee beest a
merry fellow," quoth the parson to the young player when he first
came back from London, "but thee shall never be soche a man as thy
father."

Down in London his friends were of the rollicking, happy-go-lucky
kind; they divided their time between the play-houses