galaxy of biographical sketches dedicated to pioneers of the country, as old friends or acquaintances, or actors of distinguished parts on that stage, dropped out of the moving line one after the other. . . . The usual obituary notice is historically neglible because it is a fulsome, insincere eulogy. Scott's obituaries, on the contrary, while meeting every test that good taste prescribes, contain real information about the careers of his subjects, together with discriminating comments on their characters and their contributions to the common life.
If these and some of his descriptive articles were gathered together in a book, it should be a book for average men, such as in that earlier day subscribed for the Oregonian when he was the most widely read author in the Pacific Northwest. Samuel A. Clarke's delightful poems have been forgotten because he submitted them in a few copies of a pamphlet to "publishers and critics" instead of directly to the people. The present generation of readers, because they can get Harvey W. Scott's writings in public libraries, have had a better chance to see whether he who was their fathers' oracle has lost all flavor for them in the 25 years since his death, but they have not had a full chance to judge whether they might not respond to him in something of the old way. Such a plebiscite has been denied him, and on this account, while there is evidence that he cannot survive in all his original robustness, it cannot be conclusively stated that all of him was journalism and none of him was literature.
The six volumes that have been referred to, were compiled, edited and richly annotated by his son, Leslie M. Scott, who devoted 12 years to the task, so ably that he stands out in the pages as a gifted collaborator. They
