THE SAGA OF RED GRANGE

Homer did his best for Achilles, Milton managed to make Satan a fairly presentable sort, and Raphael Sabbatini has established Cesar Borgia as an ardent habitue of Sunday schools; yet it remained for Mr. James Braden an erstwhile Yale fullback, to write the epic of a football player in such wise as to cast all these press-gentling jobs into well-merited obscurity. For a week his poetic prose has been the chief ornament of the otherwise drab sporting page of the New York World, chanting the life, works, and more significant remarks of "Red" Grange, who recently taught Pennsylvania some of the finer points of open field running. One extract will do to show the poignant lyricism with which Mr. Grange has inspired his biographer: "The poetry of the looming hills was gone, but in its stead there came a wider outlook across the wide plains of Illinois," writes Mr. Braden, smiling mistily through the tears that have been wrung from him by the narration of how the Grange family moved west.

Embellished with Grange's own quaint philosophy, captioned with the chaste and simple statement: "This is my real story. I have authorized its publication," this series of articles will provide the youth of America with a mark to shoot at beside which George Washington's veracity will pale into insignificance. Yet the miracle of it is not that this greatest American of our day has finally received full recognition, but that this homely material could inspire in a Yale halfback such depths of lyric emotion.