Word: gentlefolks
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Black Beauty ROLL, JORDAN, ROLL-Julia Peterkin & Doris Ulmann-Ballon ($3.50). One of the very few Southern gentlefolk writing today, Julia Peterkin has a proprietary interest in the Negro, who in her books behaves according to Hoyle (Southern style). Neither lynchings nor Harlem hotspots darken her clear pages. A Martian visitor reading Authoress Peterkin would hardly guess that there was such a thing as a "Negro problem." For her and her readers the Negro is the Southern plantation darky, whom Southerners always represent as being a lovable, child-like creature, living as a happy dependent on a sympathetic white master...
Presbyterian & Publisher. Born into a family of gentlefolk 47 years ago at Marion, Ohio, Mr. Thomas started life as an orthodox Republican. He voted for Taft in 1908. His father was a Presbyterian minister, as was his Welsh-born grandfather before him. In Marion as a boy he used to deliver copies of the Star. Its publisher, Warren Gamaliel Harding, had a hearty way of slapping him on the back and calling him ''Norm." Years later "Norm" Thomas was thoroughly shocked when his old employer actually got into the White House...
Death closed, last week, "them orbs of royal blue." They were the eyes of Her Majesty the Queen-Mother Maria Christina. During the Spanish-American War she was Regent of Spain for her stripling son, the present sprightly King Alfonso XIII. Surely all U. S. gentlefolk who ever gloated over the U. S. defeat of Regent Christina's forces must feel a little sheepish as they view again her picture (see cut). Spaniards know that Queen Christina combined the majesty and mass of a Roman Emperor with the devout, portly sweetness of a Mother Abbess...
...little legacy to each he leaves in this last volume. Destiny Bay is the bonniest corner of Ireland, where the purplest heather grows, the gamest trout swim, the swiftest horses race, the most picturesque of gypsies roam, and the finest gentlefolk rule. Head of the ruling family is Sir Valentine, red-bearded from eye to waist, soft of heart, sharp of eye, with a ready curse for any emergency. For the sake of a dying gypsy-queen he defied a time-honored rule of the Derby. He also bullied a Catholic priest into burying a Chinese-his brother...
...ones felt instinctively that then they were hearing the best music of the piece. The first and last acts are mostly dialogue sprinkled here and there with an aria of the light opera type, pretty, trite, unsuitable to snorting drama. The second act is different, written for no lovelorn gentlefolk, but for a great primitive mass, sung by them, savagely, hauntingly, throbbingly, masterfully done...