And my knife there--and blast the King and that (on p. 124) the line is overstepped. Offends him--and my hands are too sleepy To lift it off. [PHOEBE takes the crown off.] Who touched me then? I thank you. [Rises with outspread arms.] There-league on league of ever-shining shore Beneath an ever-rising sun-I see him— "Camma, Camma!' Sinnatus, Sinnatus! [Dies.]" It may well be, as said above, that the memory of Miss Terry's acting adds a glamour to this final scene; yet, in any case, it is a scene of memorable beauty. If, on the whole, "The Cup" appears somewhat thinly and slightly worked out, it is nevertheless substantial and robust compared to "The Falcon," which is not a drama at all, but one dramatic scene. Count Federigo degli Alberighi, Filippo his fosterbrother, and Elisabetta his nurse dwell together in a cottage hard by the castle of the Lady Giovanna, now a widow with one sickly son, but in earlier days the girl-love of Federigo. For her sake (deeming himself rejected when she carelessly lets fall upon the rass a chaplet of mountain flowers which he gives her as a love-gift) he has been to the wars in search of death, but only found a prison; returning, he finds her widowed, and dwelt for years, poverty-stricken and adened, within sight of his idol, but loved aly by his nurse and Filippo, and by his falcon, Elisabetta, bringing in the murdered falcon on a dish, avers, Here's a fine fowl for my lady; I had scant time to do him in. I hope he be not underdone, for we be undone in the doing of him." This is to speak in character, doubtless. But there must have been sore peril of rousing irreverent laughter on an English stage. The defects of the falcon as an article of diet might be ignored, but, when suggested, they are fatal. Nevertheless, it is touching enough when the Lady Giovanna, returning the necklace, begs the falcon for Florio; the revulsion of disappointment in the Count, to have lost his bird-friend and the chance of gratifying his idol at once, is very bitter. But, when she learns of his sacrifice, the bars of prescription and of family feud break before the rush of her new and grateful affection, and the scene closes in their happy betrothal. Melodrama? yes; but there is a touch of nature in the simple tale that seems so much fitter for Boccaccio than for the dramatic muse of a man of genius. The prettiest thing, perhaps, in the piece, is the Count's song (p. 118) when Giovanna asks the history of the withered wreath and scroll. But, in the main, there seems little to admire in "The Falcon," except the wistful, halfdespairing tenderness of Federigo. Scorned, disappointed, prematurely aged, hoping against hope, he shows how a generous courtesy is lord over all these feelings. It is not easily possible that the Laureate's reputation should now be raised. Assuredly these two dramatic sketches will not raise it. But yet there are passages in "The Cup" which kindle in us the hope of his Ulysses, that "Something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with gods." E. D. A. MORSHEAD. Her book is very handsomely printed, and nicely illustrated, especially with a good map at the close of the volume. If it falls among general readers it will meet with general approval for its liveliness and evident fidelity; but if it fall among the pedants she is likely to hear some complaints. And, unfortunately, Greek studies are regarded by the pedants as their special property. Having myself failed to satisfy some of them with a book on the same subject, I can warn the authoress that her considerable knowledge of both ancient and modern Greek will rather inflame than allay their ire. She makes allusions so learned that most scholars will be puzzled with them-e.g., (p. 62) "proving that Aspasia was not wrong in her praises of Attica," and in her enumeration of classical heroines (p. 51), "Androcleia and Alcida, daughters of Antipoenus, and Alcestis, not to speak of poor Evandra"! When she does this the pedants will be sure to expect from her critical accuracy; and what will they say to Paiōn's Nike (at Olympia, p. 216), 0. K. Müller (p. 41), "the hill of Musaios where the old seer sang and was buried" (p. 39). When speaking of the theatre of Dionysus at Athens, she exclaims (p. 36), "How much would one give to have been present at a single night's representation!" and she goes on to describe the splendid view over the bay of Phaleron from the theatre. The view is, indeed, over the bay, but into the blue sky; nor is the sea visible from any part (I think) of the theatre. That the Greeks who went to the play enjoyed at the same time a splendid view of the sea is an error long since exploded. The stage scenery was constructed so as to exclude any such view. Yet one of the party had a good eye for scenery when she compared the coasts of Greece to those of Kerry, in Ireland—a very just comparison. Her geography is sometimes puzzling, as when she speaks as if she had seen Hydra before Mount Taygetus, on her approach to Attica from the south (p. 14), or of Mount Cyllene and Sicyon as being adjacent (p. 108), or of Erymanthus as on her right, and the Gulf of Corinth on her left, as she looked from the neighbourhood of Vostitza. But these trifles will only mislead people who use the book as a guide-book. As the authoress is Glimpses of Greek Life and Scenery. By Agnes Scotch, she is, perhaps, not to be blamed for Smith. (Hurst & Blackett.) "The full trained marvel of all falconry." Lly Giovanna, meanwhile, held back from y remarriage by her brother, and absorbed in the care of her daily fading Florio, recks tly of the longing of her old lover till on day the sick child takes a craving for the Coint's falcon as the one gift that would EVERY lover of Greece must hail with pleasure revive his drooping spirit. Lady Giovanna, each new book of travels in that country reely knowing how hard a boon she is which tends to increase the interest of English ng of the Count, bids herself to his morn- people in Greece and spreads the knowledge z meal, designing to return to him a diamond that it is not only delightful, but quite safe, to klace which he has sent to her anonym-travel there. Miss Smith's Glimpses, though ly, but not undetected, and to beg the i for her Florio. But on the news of her approach the Count feels the true pang of erty. There is but one spoon in the pantry, that is broken, one dish of prunes in the er, one salad in the garden, one bowl to it in, and that Elisabetta, in her flurry, fall; and as for fish, flesh, or fowl, only noble falcon, who must die that her lady may eat. Mach skill-a skill like Scott's in a similar station in The Bride of Lammermoor-is eded to keep this plot from lapsing from the simple to the farcical. I cannot but think slight and not very methodical, are lively and pleasant; and, to those who know the country from visits a few years ago, they give many hints of new roads and improved accommodation, though much is still wanting. The most alarming feature in her travels is the execrable weather from which her party suffered during all her trip (May 1883). This was very unlucky; during two springs which I spent there we should have been often glad to see a shower. The weather was steadily hot and fine, and this, I fancy, is the rule to which her experience was an unpleasant exception. the following funny statement (p. 109):-"We give expression to an opinion that Greece is the loveliest country we have yet seen—an opinion [she adds in a note] considerably modified as we passed through the St. Gothard Tunnel"! What wonderful visions she must have had in the tunnel! I have gone through it more than once, and always found it pitchdark and very stuffy. She speaks (p. 213) of a village in which no one could read, as they had no school or master. This anecdote should not mislead the reader into the belief that primary education is generally backward in Greece; as a matter of fact, the people are quite over-educated. With these notes, to show that the book is worth reading through carefully and criticising, I conclude, wishing Miss Agnes Smith every success as regards her sympathetic_and pleasant diary, and trusting she may have fairer weather if she again visits the Greek Alps. J. P. MAHAFFY. James Skinner: a Memoir. By the Author of "Charles Lowder." With a Preface by Canon Carter. (Kegan Paul, Trench, & Co.) BOTH the author and the editor doubt whether the public will think this book is wanted, and the best answer to be given to the question is that it does not matter much. Mr. Skinner's life was quite interesting enough to be recorded for those who may care for it, whether they are many or few. His claims to be remembered are that for the five or six years he was at St. Barnabas he was the leading "ritualist" of the period; that his tenacity led to as many points as possible being fought in the once famous Westerton case; that he did much to promote the revival of confession, more to promote the revival of direction; that among the small but important circle of clergy who invite confessions he had a high and deserved authority; and that the spectacle of a bright and joyous nature adapting itself harmoniously to the requirements of an austere form of piety is always interesting. of a conversation in 1879 with Döllinger, in August 1632 Mr. Rawson Gardiner has "had never intended to wound him [Newman], There are some attractive sketches of Mr. As a director, Mr. Skinner would have in 1851, when Manning had just been received been remarkable at Port Royal. He had into the Roman communion, and he called on in perfection the gift of caring tenderly me to express his grateful thanks for being the for everyone who consulted him, and being means of this event, in that I had taught him severe upon all; of keeping conscience to believe that truth was possible to a Roman restlessly alive, and then teaching its victims Catholic theologian; heretofore he had felt that to live quietly and orderly in the uncomfort-Roman Catholics were compelled by their system able condition into which they had been torical manual he had learnt, for the first time, to reject truth, but since he had read my hisbrought. Many of his letters are given, appar- that historical truth was paramount as the ently with the sanction of the recipients foundation of theology. This same man, even a precaution which seems sometimes to have before the Vatican decree was pronounced, made been omitted in the case of Keble. Perhaps a violent attack upon me because I had been so the best is to a lady with an inherited ten- absurd as to declare that truth was a superior dency to insanity, which, thanks to Mr. power to any authority whatsoever." Skinner, never realised itself; her great trouble" was that her father objected to confession, though he allowed her to consult Mr. Skinner, who thought confession bad for her. At the same time, though one sees it is all very well done, the doubt whether it was worth doing remains. One feels that it is very much the day of small things which it is so natural and so wrong to despise; all the letters of spiritual counsel leave us asking whether such an inner life is really so much more important than the outer life, in which most people are so much more at home. It is characteristic that in discussing the claims of Rome Mr. Skinner dwells much more upon the question, What is the pious course for a born Anglican? than upon the objective merits of either system. His contribution to the latter problem was a sufficiently original theory that the undivided Church was in possession of plenary inspiration, while, when it was divided, the inspiration of the parts was less than plenary-a theory which, among other curious corollaries, certainly leads, as his correspondent saw, to the conclusion that every country would have its own rule of faith, all different, none perfectly trustworthy. Mr. Skinner was sufficiently prominent at one time to make his memoirs an historical document in other ways; for instance, we have Hurrell Froude's letter to Perceval on the commencement of the Tractarian movement, and the less welcome information that Dr. Pusey spoke in private of Card. Newman's change of allegiance as a "fall," while in public he generously refused to condenm one who "had been called to work in another part of the vineyard." We have, too, some curious notes 66 restitution of the Palatinate, though its prince things are forgotten." The "sudden blaze" seems to me to be in the land where all of Gustavus Adolphus does not dazzle him. The Swedish king may be in full career of success, but he has no hold on the countries overrun by his troops. 1 The house of Austria hath a root, and will upg again; the King of Swede can have no time to make more than one fault, and that proves remediless, if it should chance to befall him; therefore methinks still it were well we were not altogether swallowed up in the contemplation of his last battle of Leipsic." Wentworth warns his correspondent against the sudden and self-seeking advances of Lon Holland and his faction, eager to strengthen themselves against the Treasurer Portland. "I am one of those that believe no miracles; but that friendships which are to be trusted grow up per media upon some noble precedent into thus per saltum are for the most part only existent matter, where those which are skipped to serve turns and deceitfully temporary, and therefore ever to be suspected." He is no less shrewd in detecting the drift of the Dublin officials "to keep the deputy s ignorant as possibly they can, that so albeit dinate to them in knowledge." He promises not in peace [? place], yet he may be subor himself in time "to sound the depth they covet so much to keep from me." A note sent "with a whole kennel of hounds" shows him a keen sportsman-"The subject I am upon is rich and noble, and loss it were to give it over so quickly." In June 1633 the Queen is "something sad, and looks very much paler than she useth to do"-80 early had the shadow of the coming woe begun to fall. The last of these letters ends ominously : "I have a heart can willingly sacrifice all that ever I have for his Majesty (if I do not deceive myself) with a cheerfulness and faith extraordinary; only I am fearful, that while imposAn-sibilities are expected at my hands, the best I unto me as a crime." can do should not be accepted, nay, imputed Skinner's life as garrison chaplain at Corfu, The Camden Miscellany. Vol. VIII. Subjoined is a poem on Strafford's illness, seven years later, on his final return from and a hope that the value of the unpopular Ireland. It expresses the general anxiety, and a hope that the value of the unpopular Lord Deputy will be at last acknowledged the pilot in the coming tempest : "For with a storm we all are overcast And Northern storms are dangerous at last." Not many pages farther on, Mr. Cartwright presents us with the elaborate self-vindications of Strafford's foe, Lord Savile. Though a courtier, in personal attendance on Charles, he had allowed his sympathy with the popular cause to hurry him into forgery. He affixed the signatures of English peers to the invitation sent to the Scotch. But the time came when the Parliament went on, and he stopped. He was for peace, when peace was no longer possible; and he claims to have drafted the conciliatory proclamations of Windsor and Nottingham. Denounced as a malignant for performing his sworn duty to Charles, imprisoned by the King for trying to save his house from plunder by coming to terms with Hotham, ill-will and ill-luck followed him. Acquitted of a traitorous design of seizing the Queen, he was again imprisoned for speaking disrespectfully of that royalist Oxford parliament which Charles himself styled "mongrel." His composition with Hotham being once more brought against him, he would have been dealt with by martial law had not the peers refused their consent. Released "under condition he should depart this kingdom" Savile immediately came to London, surrendered himself to the Parliament, and was flung into the Tower. And so, pleading the injuries sustained from one party as his merit with the other, a prey to anxiety, poverty, and disease, his brief candle flickers out of history. We know that he was alive in 1653, and know no more. His misfortunes may well have been mainly owing to his moderation, which he had very frankly expressed in the earlier days of the struggle December 1642) "I would not have the K. trample on the The most curious and important contribution The selection from the Lauderdale papers contains letters from the Earl of Cassilis, Burnet's father-in-law; from Lord Rutherford, and from Lord George Douglas. The squabble of Cassilis with the Chancellor Glencairn, the difficulties and jealousies attendant on Lord Rutherford's position as Governor of Dunkirk-a "poor Scots body" persecuted by the world-and the struggles of Lord George to get the arrears of his regiment paid by Louvois-the magnificent Louis confessing "Je suis court d'argent". -are the subjects of the correspondence. Mr. Osmund Airy, the editor, is to publish for the Camden Society three volumes of selections from the Lauderdale papers. In the interest of that undertaking, it is almost a pity that these fragments-too much resembling the "remainder biscuit "-should have anticipated the store of valuable and important matter which, it is understood, will follow them. To the zeal of the Director, Mr. Gardiner, we owe a contribution from the other side of the Channel. It is a memorandum drawn up by Mdme. de Motteville for the use of Bossuet in his funeral sermon on Henrietta Maria. It records some characteristics of one whose history is not yet perfectly known, and affords a glimpse of the great preacher at work upon one of his great discourses. M. Hanotaux has remarked the most obvious deviations of the sermon from the memorandum. The Queen's heroic order, when pressed by the Parliament cruisers, to blow up her ship rather than let it be taken, is passed over by Bossuet as inconsistent with the character of a Christian princess. And with the courtly audacity usual in such circumstances, he praised her avoidance of all approach to uncharitable speech, though the memorandum had expressly, if delicately, indicated her carelessness in that regard. of the war. So far all is intelligible, and not The letter in which Manchester states the grounds of his quarrel with Cromwell is here recovered for us by Mrs. Gardiner from the Tanner MSS., where it has lain unnoticed, because the Catalogue has assigned it to Sir William Waller. It cannot be said to add much to our knowledge; but it is far more satisfactory to have the charges under Manchester's own hand than on hearsay in scattered notices. Sir George Duckett gives with due elucidation the two letters in which Monmouth pleads for his life to the King and Queen. They were both suppressed at the time; and a curious story is here given of James in exile, six years after, declaring that till then he had never heard of them. He is reported to have added that "it was in his inclination to have saved the Duke's life, if he could have had any proper assurances that the Duke was disposed to have made a sincere discovery." Very good; but James actually saw his nephew after his capture, as nobody who has read Macaulay is likely to forget. A choice morsel is reserved for the close of the volume. Mr. Cartwright presents us with some town-talk of 1684-90, touched with a light but dexterous hand, in the letters of Richard Thompson, of York, to his brother Henry. The prevalence of actions of scandalum magnatum, brought or threatened in vindication of the character of (say) Villiers, second Duke of Buckingham; Dryden's dedication of Plutarch; the antiquarian doings of "Tom Rymer" (who is also "engaged in laying down further rules for the reformation of the stage"); the offence taken at King William's reserve; the reversal of Russell's attainder, are among the topics glanced at. The sprightly writer has the knack of retelling "idle stories which fly about town"—vide licet: "T'otherday one Mr. Evelyn, son to the virtuoso Evelyn, and Mr. Forster, with another gentleman, were all in a certain music clubroom, after having drunk to a great pitch, and it happen'd that one of 'em, finding himself disposed to be musical, took up a violin, and began to fumble upon it. Mr. Evelyn, having likewise an harmonious soul, was resolv'd to bear some part in the music, and, being able to do nothing else, kept time with a great heavy case-knife that laid very conveniently for the purpose upon the table; the other gentleman, Mr. Forster, while his camarades were in the heat of action, chanc'd by ill-luck to lay his finger on that part of the table upon which his neighbour beat time, and whether it was that the man's ill genius guided his hand, or how it came about, adhuc sub judice est, but he cut the poor finger off, with the greatest dexterity imaginable, insomuch that the surgeons do all admire the man's address in nicking the joint so critically." NEW NOVELS. R. C. BROWNE. By Mrs. Power A Beggar on Horseback. O'Donoghue. In 3 vols. (Hurst & Blackett.) Personal Recollections of Peter Stonnor, Esq. By Charles Blatherwick. (Chapman & Hall.) A NEW novel by Mr. Francillon is always an intellectual treat. Whatever faults of construction his stories may occasionally possess, they never fail to reveal a strong vein of originality. We cannot understand the caprice of the public in regard to him. That he will be more widely read in time to come we feel convinced; meanwhile, we would give a hearty word of praise to his latest romance, A Real Queen. It is as singular in its plot as it is striking in its characters. It is clever and uncommon from cover to cover. But there are many things in it to which the average novel-reader will not take kindly, and which he will be apt to regard as far-fetched and bizarre. Eneas Fane, the dabbler in antiquities, which are found for him by Silver Moldwarp, is, like the man who dupes him, a vividly drawn character. The same may be said of Laurence Derwent, with his strange history, and his mesmeric power over Rosamond Fane, the "real Queen." But we must leave the reader himself to explore the Pix Knoll, Fane's great archaeological field, "a treasurehouse of ever fresh antiquity to which Pompeii was a poor modern invention, only fit to amuse the vulgar, and the British Museum little more than a lumber-room." In the plot of this book there are some incidents over which we can fancy the reader exclaiming, "Impossible!" "Absurd!" but we are justly reminded by the author that life is full of the most extraordinary surprises. "There is no mystery of life greater than the manner in which we regard so simple and so common a thing. After all, it is infinitely more wonderful that a man should live than that he should die for he spends his moments amid a flight of poisoned arrows, and every instant that he escapes is a new miracle." Something of the mystery and the ever-recurring tragi-comedy of life we have here, and the work had for us in its perusal a powerful and unflagging interest. a The promise which the author of A Western Wildflower held out is fully redeemed in her new work. In London Town is not only extremely readable as a story, but deserving of warm commendation for its ability. There is a refreshingly quiet humour in some of the characters, while the book is by no means destitute of stronger and more serious qualities. The figure of the old man, Thorold, a descendant of an ancient family, who believes that he has been defrauded of his rights, is very striking and even pathetic one. His wrongs madden him until he brings himself within the meshes of the law by "conveying" a deed away from the British Museum-a document supposed to bear upon his alleged ancestral estates. His Italian wife had left him one child, Fiametta, who inherited to the full When her father is arrested, she takes him a poisoned dagger in order that he may avert disgrace by suicide; and, when he dies, she believes that she has been the agent of his death. Remorse pursues her, until she discovers from David Everest that her mother's fierce nature. her father had died a natural death, and that he (Everest) had secured the dagger and preserved it. Fiametta is bitten by the wildest of Socialistic doctrines; and, as her lover, David, remarked, "When lovely woman stoops to political economy, and finds too late that there is such a thing as an unearned increment," &c., there is no arguing with her. We cannot understand, however, why Fiametta's mother, who had belonged to the Italian party of freedom, was thereby, and necessarily, "above such small considerations as belief in any future," nor why her husband should regret his sacrifices on behalf of "united Italy." Many noble men and women willingly sacrificed everything to that cause, nor were they all without faith in the immortality of the soul. In the end Fiametta discovers that Christianity and Socialism are not the same, for the Christian's maxim is All that is mine is yours,' and the Socialist's is only All that is yours is mine.' If there were more Christians there would be fewer Socialists, perhaps." Besides the characters already mentioned, there is a fine old Rector devoted to liturgical studies, and with a horror of womankind; there is David's mother, always scheming for her good-humoured son; there is a charming girl, Helen, who declines to be spoilt by the stump orators of her own sex; and there are also one or two Samaritans who give us better views of human nature. This is a good, sound, interesting, and healthy novel; and one that it is impossible to read without feeling the better for it. Mr. Whelpton's story is redolent of the farmyards and the fields of Lincolnshire. He has admirably caught the spirit as well as the detail of bucolic life; and it is no small tribute to his skill that he is able to enlist our interest in characters which would be generally regarded as essentially commonplace. Of course there is that in every man and woman which removes them from the commonplace could we but get at it, and this the author has done by a quick and lively sympathy. Iphis Cowlamb makes an excel lent heroine; and the deviations of her woor with her ultimate happiness, are worth fol lowing by the reader. A "pastoral," as this professedly is, does not afford much scope for strong and tragic writing, but there are one or two scenes in the course of the story by no means devoid of power. Altogether, what we like best about the work is-first, the manifestly true local colouring, and, next, the extreme naturalness of the characters. We do not find the farmer's daughter aping the girl of the period, nor is the hind made to converse like a philosopher. Mr. Whelp may be congratulated on his panorama rural life and scenery. of A great portion of Mrs. Power O'Donoghue's novel is very unpleasant reading. The first and second volumes, and, indeed, some portion of the third likewise, form but a sickening picture of how certain women and certain gallant officers manage to live. Colonel Blount compels his ward to assist him in cheating at baccarat; while Lady Kissie, another prominent character, lures men to their ruin, causing one at least to blow his brains out on her account. In one scene we in an unusually good humour: are introduced to Lady Kissie when she was h 'She had won a big thing on the Derby, and not lost more than the half of it at Ascot later diplomatist, and sold it profitably to another: She had wormed a great secret out of one had played whist against Zelleford, and wou; had backed her luck the previous night at poker -had 'huffed,'' doubled the ante,' and won the entire pool," &c., &c. BOOKS OF TRAVEL. he is the right man for a missionary to a savage people. The numerous wood-cuts are not bad, but we would willingly exchange half of them for a good map. him; we should then hear fewer and less wellThe Never Never Land: a Ride in North founded complaints of meddling in politics and Queensland. By A. W. Stirling. (Sampson and amusing stories in his work illustrating mischievous intrigues. There are many curious Low.) This is a pleasant account of a journey both the acuteness of perception and the through the northern sheep country of Queensland, undertaken with the view of buying a manners and customs of the natives. The author has not neglected natural history, and station; but for that purpose the journey was undertaken in vain, for at that moment every-who reads his book can doubt for a moment that he seems to be a good shot and rider. No one thing was at the very top, and Mr. Stirling found that, unless he was prepared to go to the outside limits of civilisation, it would be impossible to purchase. Here is his description of the downs of North Queensland :"Riding over the treeless downs of North Queens"Our Sceptred Isle," and its World-wide and is the most dreary thing ever undertaken. Empire. By Alexander Macdonald. (Sampson Nothing changes; mile after mile is traversed Low.) The title of this little book is no guide without-as far as the traveller can see-altering to its contents. Mr. Macdonald's object seems his position or surroundings in the least, until to be to treat of and encourage emigration, not almost any kind of variety would gladly be wel-necessarily to our own colonies, but to colonies comed as a relief. Hours seem days, miles mainly peopled from the British Islands. We leagues, and the end no nearer at mid-day than cannot say that he has produced either a very it was in the early morning. One of the useful or readable book. Well-educated people most remarkable things about this part of Queens- will learn nothing from it; and, if the book is land is the absence of all life; with the exception intended for the young or ignorant, they will of the brown snake, already mentioned, and a tray crow or two, we saw no living thing during be perplexed by the multitude of figures and the whole day's journey, nor should I imagine statistics, which do not always bear out that the advent of the white man in this part of the deductions drawn from them. The author the continent has made much difference. The takes the opportunity of giving us his opinion want of water prevented the aboriginal from ever on the land question in England. He is inmaking it his home, and the marsupials I know fected with the usual commonplaces and the usual ignorance on this subject; happily, howThe curse of the country is drink. The author ever, he does not approve of confiscating the tells us that but for drink nine out of every ten property of land-owners! To prove the evils men would be rich and independent, and the of the land tenure of this country he quotes colony worse off for labourers than it is now. The figures showing that the average yield of the difficulty is for a working-man to avoid it; if years 1875-80 was less than that of previous he goes into a public-house, he finds others at years without an allusion to the extraordithe bar, one of whom is sure to shout-that is, nary succession of disastrous seasons and bad order drink for all; then, to avoid being harvests which prevailed in that period. Again, thought mean, the others must in turn do the he makes the yield per acre in England in game. Sometimes the landlord shouts to start the year 1879-one of the most unfavourable the thing. One might suppose that in the years in the past half-century-the subject of a tropics this habit of drinking would be destruc- contemptuous remark, but is careful to conceal tive of life, but it does not appear to be so, as what the average yield per acre in the United the death-rate of Queensland rarely exceeds States of North America is. Can he be fourteen or fifteen in the thousand. The ex-ignorant that the three countries which are the planation probably is that the drinking is not continuous. The labourer drinks nothing but tea while employed on a station; but when he receives several months' wages in a lump, then he goes and drinks it all out. The author was ecially struck by the extent to which the working-men flung away their money. Multilinous as are the books on Australia, there few which give a popular account of Queensland, and we can safely recommend the present work as both practical and readable. The reader must not, however, expect any xplanation of the strange name of the Never Never Land." never abounded." Romans, practical people as they were, knew how to give to works of utility a monumental character. best cultivated, and in which the return per acre is the largest, are England, Belgium, and Lombardy, in all of which some system of landlord and tenant obtains? We must protest against the nineteenth-century worship which runs down the productions of every other age. Mr. Macdonald says of the monuments of Rome: "Though admiring their beauty and grandeur, one will ask what a pity that so little of the labour bestowed upon these works had reference to the useful." He afterwards, in a note, admits that the Romans were great road-makers; but apparently he has never heard of their aqueducts, which would seem to be Dy-Dawn in Dark Places: a Story of Wan-essentially useful and to prove how well the dings and Work in Bechwanaland. By the Ev. John Mackenzie. (Cassells.) The writer of this book (Mr. Mackenzie) is one of the missionaries of the London Missionary Society. In this Our Colony of Natal. By Walter Peace. volume he gives an account of his life and labours Published by Permission of the Natal Governat Shoshong, the town of the Bamangwato ment. (Stanford.) Mr. Peace is the emigraribe of Bechwanaland, from 1862 to 1867. tion agent for the Government of Natal. Since It may be objected that he has put off publish- he has been in England he has been so struck mg till too late. He does not tell us why he by the astounding misconceptions entertained Las waited so long, but we trust this delay will by the people of this country, educated and prejudice any against what is really a very uneducated, as to what colonisation implies teresting and unaffected narrative. Shoshong that he has been constrained to write the Contains 30,000 inhabitants, and is the largest present book, as he himself says, because f all the Bechwana towns, and indeed one ofI could not help it." We doubt its being the largest in South Africa. The first missionary who visited it was Dr. Livingstone, in 1842; Dr. Mat was there in 1855; and Mr. Mackenzie and a Lutheran missionary, Mr. Schulenborg, ready installed there. It tells well for both at they worked heartily together, as well Sunday services as in school teaching. Ined, Mr. Mackenzie is thoroughly free from botry and cant, and it is much to be wished that all missionaries in South Africa were like much read; it is a class of book, of which we have had many before, which, though stuffed full of statistics and quotations, adds little to our previous knowledge of the colony, and is not adapted to the general reader. But the various statistics in it will be useful to anyone who is contemplating emigration. It is no wonder that the authorities of Natal exert themselves to promote emigration, considering how few persons have hitherto responded to their call. Emigration to Natal is indeed slow. In 1881 there were not 29,000 whites in to be found in many a provincial town in the whole colony-a smaller population than is England and France. Mr. Peace will not admit that any danger is to be apprehended in the future from the enormous preponderance of So little work can be got out of the Kaffirs natives; we cannot think his reasons conclusive. that, though there are in the colony nearly twelve natives to every European, coolies are Mr. Peace has imported in large numbers. provided an excellent map, conveniently placed in a pocket. Iberian Sketches: Travels in Portugal and the North-west of Spain. By Jane Leck. (Glasgow: Wilson & M Cormick.) The route taken by the authoress and her party was somewhat different to the usual beaten Spanish round. They travelled first to Burgos, thence by Leon and Orense to Vigo and Compostella; turning back, they proceeded to Lisbon via Oporto and Coimbra, and from Lisbon they took rail to Madrid, and home by Avila and Valladolid. There is somewhat of novelty in the part of the journey to the North-west; and it would have been well if the authoress had treated it more in detail, and had given less space to the oft-described Museum of Madrid, the Escorial, and Avila. The previous knowledge of Spanish and of the things of Spain possessed by the party seems to have been slight; but some of them happily had the habit of scientific observation. Hence the few ornithological and botanical remarks are interesting; and we must not omit a word of praise for the trouble of counting the fairhaired and gray- or blue-eyed girls, nineteen out of forty, in a school at Leon. The historical knowledge, however, is not on a par with the scientific. In a sentence on p. 27 our authoress seems to suppose that the Gothic invasion of Spain was anterior to the Roman. The "kind of jewellery, consisting of gold and silver encrusted upon steel," is no "speciality of Madrid manufacture, but is made in the Basque Provinces and at Toledo. Prim's tomb in the Atocha, which is greatly lauded, was made by Señor Zuloaga while an exile at StJean-de-Luz, in France (cf. the ACADEMY, April 24, 1875). The gold and silver filagree work noticed at Ponferrada is found, perhaps, at its best among the Charras of Salamanca. Several customs-e.g., with regard to prisonswhich our authoress takes as peculiar to the spot on which she noticed them are really common to a great part of the Peninsula. These mistakes are slight. We welcome the book as an attempt to get off the track which has been so often described. There is much yet to be done in Spain. Would that some of the lesser lights of the Alpine Club, whose ambition does not aspire to the conquest of the Himalayas, Andes, or New Zealand Alps, would leisurely explore the beauties of the Picos de Europa, of the Asturian Mountains, and measure, map out, and correctly name these, and the Peñamarella range between Leon and Galicia. Children in Norway; or, Holiday on the Ekeberg. By Pater. (Griffith & Farran.) There is a peculiar charm about the air and scenery of Norway, combined with the frank kindness of the Norwegians, that never fails to excite pleasing emotions; and most people who go there are more or less strongly tempted to put their impressions into a book. Years ago, when communication was difficult and travellers proportionately few, and when the Malstrom was still a leading article of our geographical faith, there was excuse for indulging this tendency to any reasonable extent. Now, however, the subject has been so exhaustively written up, from so many different points of view, that it is dangerous ground for book |