MACLEOD OF THE REVIEW: AN APPRECIATION

“With a host of furious fancies, whereof I am commander …” Thus might R. D. Macleod announce himself in the office, charging the atmosphere with vitality. To be middle‐aged was very Heaven. The hardships and struggles of youth were behind him: the terrors and trials and loneliness of old age as yet unknown. But all was not sweetness and light. He had the true Celtic temperament,—up in the heights, down in the depths,—and on other mornings he might come in heavy with depression, and the atmosphere be laden with his ill‐humour. The office was that of a library department of W. & R. Holmes, to whom R. D. was consulting librarian.