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Updated: June 6, 2025
Heywood Broun, says on page 33 of the November issue of your worthy magazine that The Easiest Way is the father of all modern American tragedy. Sir, does Mr. Broun forget that there once lived a man named William Shakespeare? Is it possible to overlook such immortal tragedies as Hamlet and Othello? I think not. Fiat justitia, ruat colum. Sincerely, SHERWIN G. COLLINS.
Latin had been taught since the early days of the Message; the native tongue of Ireland, consecrated in the hymns of St. Patrick and the poems of St. Colum of the Churches, was the language in which all pupils were taught, the modern ministrant to the classical speech of Rome. Nor were the Scriptures alone studied.
"Please, Flint," this from Colum, "but you forget that the faces of those who live in the country are happier. That's all that counts." "Not happier less alert, that's all duller. For contentment, I'll wager against any farmhand the old woman who sells apples at the corner. She polishes them on her apron with with spit.
Under the year 592, a century after Saint Patrick's death, we find this entry in the Chronicle: "Colum Kill, son of Feidlimid, Apostle of Scotland, head of the piety of the most part of Ireland and Scotland after Patrick, died in his own church in Iona in Scotland, after the thirty-fifth year of his pilgrimage, on Sunday night, the ninth of June.
And to what admirable ends these same qualities may tend we can see in a life like that of Colum Kill, "head of the piety of the most part of Ireland and Scotland after Patrick." Yet the days of old were grim enough to live in. Let this record of some half-century later testify. It is but one year culled from a long red rank of years.
In 802, and again in 806, the Scottish Iona of Colum of the Churches was raided, and the next year we find the pirates making a descent upon Inismurray, off the Sligo coast, between the summit of Knocknarea and the cliffs of Slieve League.
"I've purchased many a article for a prisoner, but never heard of such rattletraps afore; however, that be all the same. You will have them, though what ho de colum is I can't tell, nor dang me if I shall recollect not poison, be it, for that is not allowed in the prison?"
I regard it as my duty to chronicle this work, and thus render it accessible for others to discuss. Mrs. Colum continues: "Apart from the interesting experiments in free verse or polyphonic prose, the short story in America is at a low ebb. Magazine editors will probably say the blame rests with their readers.
I deny that the American short story is at a low ebb, and I offer the present volume as a revelation of the best that is now being done in this field. I agree with Mrs. Colum that the best stories are only to be found after a laborious dusty search, but this is the proof rather than the refutation of my position. Despite the touch of paradox, Mrs.
He knew seasons and storms; he read the secrets of the great wisdom; he knew the course of the moon; he took notice of its race with the branching sun. He was skilful in the course of the sea; to tell every high thing we have heard from Colum, would be to count the stars of heaven.
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