Monthly Reviewed by Mr. Hapgood

Reading the April number carefully for review has confirmed the impression of excellence which I receive frequently from glancing more casually an the Harvard Monthly. In more writing if equals most of the high-class periodicals of older men. In substance, in things to say, it comes nearer to them than would naturally be expected. Indeed there are several contributions to this number which surmised to be from graduates and was decidedly surprised to find from men still in College. The sketch of a man's experience under other which impressed me most of anything in the number, for its interest, moderation, and case, is certainly lacking in all of those forced and unfinished attributes which are supposed to character the author's class. I should prophecy for him future success in the outer world. The essay on Morris Rosenfeld is marked by conviction, and by attention to things worth thinking of, and promises well.

Nothing is more difficult to write than drama. Mr. Sheldon has avoided part of his task, in using the quick, easy, and inconclusive stop of suicide, but up to the point where he thus drops an unfinished situation his workmanship in this most trying field is admirable. This is a case, I imagine, of decided gifts waiting for material on which to work. Travel papers are not a favorable form in which to reveal what is special to the writer. Those of Arminius show culture and intelligence, but on the question of the author's talent are not illuminating. About the verse I shall not attempt to write, being poorly equipped. "Their Salad Days" seemed to me more typical of college fiction generally than of the Monthly in particular. The editorial is good in plan, but conscious and too literary. It suggests in possibility a little talk about spring that should be simpler, more honest, and clothed in the language and symbols of today,--this editorial, let us say, ten years after