in another column to
Mr. Renshaw, is of graceful and pleasing character, recalling the
elusively beautiful atmosphere of the Old South which is too soon
passing away.
"The Humble Swallow", an anonymous essay, praises with singularly
delicate art a feathered creature whose charms lie not on the surface.
The concluding paragraph, condemning the wanton slaughter of this winged
friend to mankind, is especially apt at a time of hysterical peace
agitation. While the well meaning advocates of peace call wildly upon
men to abandon just warfare against destructive and malignant enemies,
they generally pass over without thought or reproof the wholesale murder
of these innocent little birds, who never did nor intended harm to
anyone. "A Higher Recruiting Standard", by Mrs. Renshaw, is an able
exposition of the newer and loftier type of ideals prevailing in the
United. Our association has never lacked numbers, but would undoubtedly
be the better for an increased standard of scholarship such as is here
demanded. Mrs. Renshaw's work as a recruiter is in keeping with her
policy, and this, together with Mr. Moe's work amongst the English
teachers, seems destined to raise the United far above its lesser
contemporaries. "An A. J. Suggestion", by Mr. Renshaw, deals ingeniously
and logically with the always difficult problem of selecting a printer.
Though evidently written quite independently, it ably seconds Paul J.
Campbell's original suggestion in the UNITED AMATEUR. The advantages of
having one printer for all amateur work are many, and the well presented
opinions of Mr. Renshaw should aid much in securing this desirable
innovation.
The poetry in Ole Miss' is all by Mrs. Renshaw, and therefore of first
quality. "Some One I Know" is a lightly amatory piece of tuneful rhythm.
"Night of Rain" gives a peculiarly pleasing aspect to a type of scene
not usually celebrated in verse. The only jarring note is the rather
mundane metaphor which compares the trees to a "beautiful mop". Though
Mrs. Renshaw holds unusual ideas regarding the use of art in poetry, we
contend that this instance of rhetorical frigidity is scarcely
permissible. It is too much like Sir Richard Blackmore's description of
Mount Aetna, wherein he compares a volcanic eruption to a fit of colic;
or old Ben Johnson's battle scene in the fifth act of "Catiline", where
he represents the sun perspiring. "Man of the Everyday" is a noble
panegyric on the solid, constructive virtu
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