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Mrs. Everard Cotes has so faithfully yet humorously pictured an American family in London that her American readers fancy that she is their countrywoman, but she is of Canadian birth and naturally her "Cousin Cinderella," with its Canadian heroine, is written with even more vividness than her Anglo-American story. Both were serially published in London and one suspects that both, and especially "Cousin Cinderella," sorely puzzled the British matron and also the British maid, because in both foreign visitors retained their self-possession, and coolly scrutinized and criticized the natives. The modern Mrs. Leo Hunter, the woman who summons her guests and dismisses them with equal freedom, not permitting them to interfere with her plans; the alliance-hunting mother and her obedient children; the English great lady who condescends to the universe; are described vividly but with good temper, and if the visiting Canadian brother and sister are set above both the English and the American characters, one feels that these especial types deserve their place. Those who study national character in fiction may freely accept "Cousin Cinderella." The Macniillan Co.

Every successive generation regards itself as more given to doubt than any of its predecessors, and each one strives to find a remedy, and "The Seeming Unreality of the Spiritual Life," by Mr. Henry Churchill King, President of Oberlin, is one of the latest books produced in answer to the demand. The title page calls it "The Nathaniel William Taylor lectures for 1907," but in the preface the author says that parts of it have been given as lectures before the Federate Summer School of Theology at Berkeley, and part at the Harvard Summer School of Theology, and this statement by itself proves the necessity for such a work. President

King considers first the causes of the seeming unreality, the misconceptions, the failure to fulfil conditions, the inevitable limitations and fluctuations of our nature, and suggests that the seeming unreality is not only purposed but that our very questionings are a proof of reality. He then sets forth various ways into reality, as to the theistic argument, as to the personal relation to God and as to particular Christian doctrines. His work will be found helpful by those who desire help, for it is both logical and reverent. The Macmillan Co.

it pleases Mr. Charles Battel! Ixxmiis to assert in the preface of his "A Holiday Touch" that no critic will obtain half the pleasure from criticising the stories contained in it that he had in writing them, and he certainly does not exaggerate. Even the pleasure of reading the first story, a tale of men who, mistaking a stranger for Mr. Rockefeller, give him money in exchange for checks for two hundred times their amount, and receive their due reward, cannot give anything like the delight to be derived from delicately defining their various species of self-deceiving cupidity. The sheer farce of hunting a dinner given in one's honor, without a cent to pay the cabman until one can find the comparative opulence gathered around the board is laughter compelling, but fancy the pleasure of setting the snare for the laughter! Uncle Ell's tales of cannibals and of induced ambergris; the story of Awful Adkins. the ba-ad man, whose sole vice was shooting, are stories to remember with pleasure after reading them, but what is that compared to recollections of having written them! Here is genuine American fun without the cruelty of the imitators of the Wilkins. Newell, Susan t'legg schools: fun not needing the salt of bad spelling or misplaced capitals. aiid when an American meets its like he does not desire to hear it eulogized: he wishes to read it and do his own eulogizing. Henry Holt & Co.

Mr. T. Francis Bumpus's "The Cathedrals and Churches of Northern italy" most creditably continues the "Cathedral Series" with a boxed volume bound in pretty holiday fashion, a handsome title page, and engraved borders for its many pictures, setting off its attractive text . The first chapter is an introductory sketch of Italian Church Architecture, a complex matter i:pou which many external influences have from time to time been brought to bear. Chapters on Vicenza, Verona, and Padua follow, and the fifth takes the reader to Venice, St. Mark and the Torcello. Ferrara and Bologna share the next chapter, and a long one is given to the chief Lombard Cathedrals n ud Churches. Milan is treated at considerable length, and Ravenna occupies more space than any other city. in an apendix is a list of the pictures and wall paintings in the churches described and a good index completes the work. Nearly all the illustrations are exterior vews. but a few interiors, almost without exception chosen from churches very rarely pictured, are given. A little map of the region with which the book is concerned appears on the end papers with the tiara and keys blazoned in carmine,—the same device appears on the back, and on the cover is a view of the church of St. Antonio di Padua seen at an angle different from that presented in illustration of its description. Thus at every point the volume presents a novelty. I- C. Page & Co.

"l will answer no questions about this book," says Mr. Alfred Ollivant in bracketed italics set on the last page of .The Gentleman," his new story, and it is a praiseworthy resolution, inasmuch as he has given Bonaparte impe

rial honors long before he attained them, and has generally re-arranged history and biography, but for a welltold story of a prolonged fight, or rather a delirious dance of fighting figures, one need go no further. Smugglers, a gang of land-pirates more horrible than the hideous crew in "Lorna Doone"; brave old sailors and soldiers; a gallant little midshipman, a renegade emissary of Bonaparte playing hero, and justifying crime in the name of ireland, although magnanimous on his own private account, are the chief personages, and Nelson and Jervis move among them. The time is nominally the moment when Bonaparte was planning to invade England, and the scene is Pevensey, of which Mr. Kipling is by no means to be allowed to have a monopoly it seems, and all the time and all the space are occupied by the lighting aforesaid. The author indulges himself in making paragraphs of sentences and even of ejaculations after the fashion of Dumas, but certainly not for Dumas' reason, and perhaps he does well to associate himself with the master of the fighting story. His Kit Caryle, if no D'Artagnan, is at least as bonny a young sailor lad as ever whistled to the morning star. This is a novel without a heroine, unless the name be given to the evil genins of Nelson's life of whom every personage is conscious and whom Fighting Fitz treats according to her deserts, but heroines are out of place in a tale of steady fighting. The Maemlllan Co.

The novelist who excuses his lack of originality by pleading that all the good plots are pre-empted should be grateful for American statutes and American sentiment concerning divorce, inasmuch as they have given him two new personages, both exempt from all rules of logic, and each free to act according to fancy. In her new story, "I and My True Love," Mrs. H. A. Mitchell Keays has taken full advantage of the liberty open to her, and has employed the units created by a divorce after the birth of a daughter as her hero and heroine. The former, an unformed and apparently dull boy at the time of his marriage, has become a successful dramatist when the story opens; the wife who left him to wed a rich profligate and sensualist is a rich widow, socially conspicuous in a city in which gentlewomen call out of the windows to small children in the street; and the daughter is old enough to wish to marry a young man of whom her father does not approve. Feeling that she needs a mother's advice, he sends her to his former wife for a long visit, to the great edification of both, as each represents her generation fairly well, and as the girl's freedom of speech is only to be compared with that of a physician addressing medical students. After trying to force herself to marry the governor of the State, and finding the prospect more and more disagreeable as her wedding day approaches, the girl decides to return to her true love and the husband and wife concur in wishing to re-marry, he finding her very fascinating and she thinking him far preferable to the man for whom she left him. Tersely put, the events seem absurd: clothed in many hesitations and much debate they puzzle and interest, and, most influential element in the success of a story, they cause discussion. Now without the divorce laws such a book could not be. Small. Maynard & Co.

General William F. Draper might very well assert his right to be called a representative American, not the creature seen by Mr. Kipling, the representative of Castle Garden rather than of Bunker Hill or New Orleans, or Chattanooga, but the representative

of the sane, wholesome elements of the American body politic. He represents those whose honorable ancestry may easily be traced for generations, capacity to rise above the average level being a constant characteristic; those who submit to authority until obedience confers upon them the knowledge necessary to command; those indifferent to public approval or conscious of having earned their own; those who, looking backward at even time, see light upon their pathway and doubt not. The type is quite as truly representative as that of the doubter, the boaster, the trickster, the insatiable wealthgatherer, the shallow joker, the halffledged citizen willing to sell his new country if thus he may assault the enemy of the old land, but it is so quiet, and the others are so noisy, and so eager to silence it, that foreigners hardly perceive its existence, but henceforth they may be referred to General Draper's "Recollections of a Varied Career" for evidence of its concrete existence. The book was begun as a legacy to the author's descendants, but. as he wrote, he perceived that as soldier, legislator, diplomatist, and manufacturer, and in youth a dweller in a Community, his interests had been so multifarious that his life was exceptional, and he decided to publish its record. Written in this way, the book has a character entirely different from autobiographies prepared for magazines, and is doubly interesting because of its independent spirit. The most valuable passages are those describing the author's business career. Autobiographies of soldiers and diplomatists are countless, but the business man rarely writes of himself. The closing chapters, which deal with State and national politics are also valuable, and worthily complete a story which it is well should be given to the whole people, rather than to a single family. Little. Brown & Co.

vZSFlZ"" \ No. 3359 November 21, 1908. { To" Cclixtm

CONTENTS

I. John Delane and Modern Journalism. Quarterly Review 451

Ii. Rome Then and Now. By Gerald 8. Davies Corneiili. Magazine 466

III. Sally: A Study. Chapters Vi and VII. By Hugh Clifford, C. M. G.

(To be continued.) .... Blackwood's MAgazine 473

IV. An Anthology. By G. L. Strachey New Quarterly 477 V. Nat's Wife. By Ellen L. Grazebrook National Review 481

VI. The Apocalyptic Style Blackwood's Magazine 485

VII. Boasting Spectator 494

VIII. The Kaiser's Overtures. Outlook 496

IX. Science and the Supernatural Nation 499

X. Mektub. By R. B. Cunninghame Graham Saturday Review 501

XI. November, 1907: November, 1908. A Contrast. Economist 505

XII. Discursions: Hooks and Eyes Punch 508

A PAOE OF VERSE

XIII. Ad Novam. By Filson Young 450

XIV. The Chance. By Furnley Maurice .... Spectator 450 BOOKS AND AUTHORS 509

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AD NOVAM.

Oh, well it is that time flies high
In space beyond our viewing,

Or snared by us, his wings would beat
In wrath to our undoing.

And well that all the marching hours No footprints leave behind them,

Or backward we should turn our steps
To seek, but never find them.

This golden noon no shaft of light
From yesterday may borrow;

The feast is only spread to-day—
There is a fast to-morrow.

tfilson Youny.

THE CHANCE.

Words wander like motes

Across your hideous sea Of yelling mouths and straining, hairy throats; O'er fists shaken so threateningly. That make a storm to dumb the voice of me. My frail unheeded message floats.

I've walked about the town and by the
sea,
Through hoary years and years
aglow with youth;
You call my hopes the spawn of wiz-
ardry,
And all my uttered dreams meet
rage and ruth,
And no one in the world believes in me.

The need, the chance, the time
Merge, that peculiar genins may climb
Trinmphantly abreast
Of History's mightiest.
But when the need, the chance, and the

time come, Thefr prophet lies deep in the old earth numb.

Oh, not the man is great, but the Time cries And he who struggles first unto her feet She crowns his forehead and anoints

his eyes, Gives him the heart to meet Yon scoffers with bright smiles, and

true and strong Makes she his voice; upon those lips

she sets

The token of her Chosen Ones and song Pours from his soul, poignant, with no regrets.

But many know the prophet's hungry day And all the prophet's trials and regret, Whose sorrow often bids them turn and say: "She has not called; our Time has come not yet. So must our truths retire.

Spurned, from the world of men. Till some new Moment strike the thought to fire And folk look down the years and love us then— Us who have worked the dark, To whom our ardor gave the look of fools, Haranguing in the byway and the park;— Us—unknown Wisdom's tools."

Having not heard my moment calling me, All my desires troop back to old romance! So feeble grown am i That she could pass me by, My heart's dreamed one, my soul's soft-footed Chance, And ears would never hear, nor eyes not see— Dulled so with straining forth eternally, So feeble grown am i.

But when She comes—(ah, will she ever come?) And whispers in your hearts the

things I say, You will cry each to each: "One passed this way And spake just thus; but now his lips

are numb, Sealed with the wicked earth; but had

we known How deeply true his lore, then not alone, Unfriended to the Vast Had the great spirit passed—" And so on—ah, Some-day!

Furnley Maurice.

The Spectator.

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