Thus we read of the superiority of Francis Balfour, of the impression he gave of living “in a higher atmosphere, in another dimension of intellectual space” and of the great lessons of the balanced daily life he gave to his disciples. We learn that Thomas Huxley had a delightful sense of humour, combined with a spirit of sacrifice to education which gained him popularity and gratitude. Mr. Osborn draws an interesting contrast between John Burroughs and John Muir who had in common their Christian names, their love of nature and “to a certain extent, their powers of expression”; but they were unlike in almost every other respect; and their variations are attributed to racial differences. The author’s studies of ethnology make him competent to feel the influence of race and of blood, and he applies his knowledge to understanding of the soul. The best sketch in the book is that of Pasteur, “the greatest benefactor of mankind since the time of Jesus Christ,” in which love is as visible as admiration. Similar commendation may be given to the series of biographies now being published by Henry Holt & Co., called _Writers of the Day_. They have the rare merit of brevity and they are done by authors who know how to write; one of the recent issues, _Bernard Shaw_, by Edward Shanks fulfils nearly every requirement of biography. It does not dwell upon the facts or data of his life, the scenery surrounding his boyhood home, his self-imposed dietetic restrictions or his partiality for the Automobile Club, but it does throw an illuminating light on the character, personality and intimate thoughts of the extraordinary man who has courage, understanding and humour. Ivor Brown was not so successful in his presentation of a man who has been up to his chin in the life of his time, because he pitched his song of praise in too high a key. H. G. Wells has diverted many and instructed some, but few will agree that when Woodrow Wilson lost his sovereignty over the minds of men, it was transferred in no small measure to him who would rather be called journalist than artist. The accolade must be given to a Bishop. William Lawrence has written one of the best biographies that have appeared in America for many a year. His subject is Henry Cabot Lodge, a life-long friend. It fulfils all the requirements of biographical writings, and it does more: it gives a picture of the author: big heart, good mind, simple, sincere, sympathetic, and above all tolerant and understanding. And the picture of Lodge! With paint a Velasquez might rival it. It gives his intellectual and emotional measurements, his compulsions and restraints; his possessions and his limitations in just the way a priest should know how to reveal them.