to relate the facts which it discloses to that philosophy. Let me not be mistaken. No claim whatso- ever is made that this country of ours has, of its own strength and power, created ideals and en- forced them upon the world. That is not the claim. The claim is simply that it has been the vehicle for the inception or retention of ideals, which others have adopted as their own to their own and the world's advantage. Not all ideals that come into the world far from it, but some ideals of enormous importance. No claim is made that the Welsh people is of a higher mental or moral calibre than other races. It is not. In some particulars it is perhaps less so it lacks certain qualities with which other Sounds and Sweet Airs. By Lynn Doyle. IN his preface to *a recent selection from his songs, Mr. Alfred Perceval Graves declares that he ventured on two earlier collections chiefly because he did not wish to go down to posterity as Single-Song Graves," and be known as the author of Father O'Flynn only. From one point of view his fear was reasonable. The best is the enemy of the good, and Father O'Flynn is a superlative thing. If he is a national poet whose songs are sung by his whole nation, then Mr. Graves is the national poet of Ireland, and "Father O'Flynn" the national song. It is to Ireland what "Auld Lang Syne" is to Scotland, except that in Ireland we know all the verses of Father O'Flynn," or at least most of them, while I've seldom heard the most austere collection of Scotsmen get beyond the first verse of Auld Lang Syne." In any congregation of Irishmen Father O'Flynn will be sung sooner or later. About the only part of the Gaelic tongue known to all Irishmen, North and South, is derived from the chorus of that celebrated song. Many a truculent advocate, ready to die, or, preferably, to cause someone else to die for his native tongue, if pressed into a corner of con- troversy would have to admit that the only word of Gaelic he was sure of was "Slaint¡' and that he learned it in singing Father O'Flynn." A great song it is, entirely, and I'm glad to see it included in this collection. The tune is typically Irish,-rollicking, pulse- and foot- stirring, reaching the muscles without the inter- vention of the brain. And how admirable the "Irish Doric in Song and Storv." by Alfred Penceval Graves. T. Fisher Unwin, Ltd. 6s net. races are endowed; on the other hand, it has shown some qualities which others are more deficient in. The only claim made is that Wales, as a nation, is endowed with what may be conveniently termed a prophetic vision, a vision which enables the race, at times, to sow seed, which others, mightier than itself and endowed with other qualities, are privileged to bring to fruition. If this explanation of the purpose of Wales be a correct one-and the facts, I think, will show that it is,-it forms a sufficient justification for the passionate desire that Wales possesses to live, and for our attempting to ascertain the prin- ciples of a constructive policy for the land to follow in the years to come. (To be Continued.) words; how typical the character portrayed; how true the rendering of the relation of his flock to what, in spite of all changes, economic and political, remains the outstanding figure in Irish life, the Parish Priest. Religion in Ireland is a natural force, like the sunshine or the air. The Irish priest is not a Nazarite or a Levite; his life is the life of his fellow-Irishmen, his interests and his pleasures the same as theirs. In the exercise of his calling, in sacramental moments, he is in a twinkling exalted above his fellows; but when his office is performed he is able at once to step back into the current of Irish life. His sacred function is not ignored; but it is implicit rather than explicit, felt rather than perceived. Father O'Flynn's parishioners would kneel before him with no less reverence because when time and place were appropriate, Where was the play-boy could claim an equality at comicality, Father, wid you? Father O'Flvnn is a great song, not merely because of its fitting of admirable words to an inspiring tune, but because of its essential truth to one of the most salient features of Irish life. If Mr. Graves had. never done anything but write this immortal song he would still have deserved well of the Irish people. But Mr. Graves has done a great deal more than this for Ireland. In his collaboration with C. Villiers Stanford as lyrist of several books of Irish songs, for which Stanford arranged the music, the author of Father O'Flynn aimed at no less than a comprehensive illustration of Irish peasant life, and accomplished no less. I will not draw comparisons of poetic merit, but I am sure that the reader of Mr. Graves' songs will derive therefrom a truer and deeper knowledge of Irish life and thought and lyrical expression than he would from Moore's Irish Melodies." But Mr. Graves' songs are not meant to be read, they are meant to be sung, and they are shaped to that end with consummate art. In