Joel Chandler Harris's "Uncle
Remus." In the later years of his activity he fell captive to the new
and unaccustomed music of Fiona Macleod's exquisite prose and verse;
he wanted to dedicate his "New England Idyls" to the author of
"Pharais" and "From the Hills of Dream," and wrote for her permission;
but the identity of the mysterious author was then jealously guarded,
and his letter must have gone astray; for it was never answered.

His erudition was extraordinary. He exemplified in a marked degree the
truth that the typical modern music-maker touches hands with the whole
body of culture and the humanities in a sense which would have been
simply incredible to Mozart or Schubert. He was, intellectually, one
of the most fully and brilliantly equipped composers in the history of
musical art. He had read widely and curiously in many literatures, and
the knowledge which he had acquired he applied to the elucidation of
aesthetic and philosophical problems touching the theory and practice
of music. He had meditated deeply concerning the art of which he was
always a tireless student--had come to conclusions concerning its
actual and assumed records, its tendencies, its potentialities. He was
a vigorous and original critic, and he had shrewd, cogent, and
clear-cut reasons for the particular views at which he had arrived;
whether one could always agree with them or not, they invariably
commanded respect. Yet his erudition was seldom displayed. One came
upon it unexpectedly in conversation with him, through the accident of
some reference or the discussion of some disputed point of fact.

In his appearance MacDowell suggested a fusion of Scandinavian and
American types. His eyes, of a light and brilliant blue, were perhaps
his most salient feature. They betrayed his inextinguishable humour.
When he was amused--and he was seldom, in conversation, grave for
long--they lit up with an extraordinary animation; he had an
unconscious trick of blinking them rapidly once or twice, with the
effect of a fugitive twinkle, which was oddly infectious. His laugh,
too, was communicative; he did not often laugh aloud; his enjoyment
found vent in a low, rich chuckle, which, with the lighting up of his
eyes, was wholly and immediately irresistible. The large head, the
strong, rather boyish face, with its singular mobility and often
sweetness of expression, the bright, vital eyes, set wide apart, the
abundant (though not long), dark hair tinged wit