with bad ankle. In the P.M. we sat and read Bible aloud to Celia before
the open fire."

My first impressions of "_Casuals of the Sea_, a good book" are
interwoven with memories of Celia, a pious Polish serving maid from Pike
County, Pennsylvania, who could only be kept in the house by nightly
readings of another Good Book. She was horribly homesick (that was her
first voyage away from home) and in spite of persistent Bible readings
she fled after two weeks, back to her home in Parker's Glen, Pa. She was
our first servant, and we had prepared a beautiful room in the attic for
her. However, that has nothing to do with Mr. McFee.

_Casuals of the Sea_ is a novel whose sale of ten thousand copies in
America is more important as a forecast of literary weather than many a
popular distribution of a quarter million. Be it known by these presents
that there are at least ten thousand librivora in this country who
regard literature not merely as an emulsion. This remarkable novel, the
seven years' study of a busy engineer occupied with boiler inspections,
indicator cards and other responsibilities of the Lord of Below, was the
first really public appearance of a pen that will henceforth be listened
to with respect.

Mr. McFee had written two books before "Casuals" was published, but at
that time it was not easy to find any one who had read them. They were
_Letters from an Ocean Tramp_ (1908) and _Aliens_ (1914); the latter has
been rewritten since then and issued in a revised edition. It is a very
singular experiment in the art of narrative, and a rich commentary on
human folly by a man who has made it his hobby to think things out for
himself. And the new version is headlighted by a preface which may well
take its place among the most interesting literary confessions of this