by many perils, out of which, with his usual courage and address, he extricates himself, and then, with his French Canadian sweetheart, whom he first met in America, but who, with her brother, has been living at Marburg, once more takes the road to Paris, to find it as he had so long dreamed it would be, the road to happiness. There! We have outlined Mr. Robert Nelson Stephen's new story, The Road to Paris, that the reader may the better under stand us when we say that its leading character is a kind of American D'Artagnan. With the exception of two or three scenes, savoring somewhat of the coarseness of Fielding and Smollett, which ought to have been omitted, the story is unobjectionable, and furnishes enough excitement to satisfy any one. It should be added that the historical events and incidents introduced are depicted with much skill. Mr. Stephens has faithfully studied the times of his imaginary hero, and the result is correct in drawing and coloring. [L. C. Page & Co. Illustrated. $1.50.] An Island Heroine. much pains; but what is criticism worth, if it Gregory the Armenian. For the time being the Armenian question is not commanding much attention. Unhappy Armenia would seem to be having a respite, however brief, from her more acute sufferings, and the outside world is thinking more about Eastern than Western Asia. This story of Gregory the Armenian, by Helen B. Robb, is not likely, therefore, to secure so many readers as would probably have been attracted to it had it appeared two years ago. Still, interest in the general subject thus brought to mind has by no means died out, and we doubt not that, first and last, the book will be read by many. It is a simple narrative of Protestant Christian life in Armenia, the period covered being that from the Russo-Turkish war of 1877-78 to the recent terrible persecutions. Its writer, we are informed, has never visited Turkey, but she has evidently faithfully studied Armenian life and manners, and the result is a story born of a thoughtful Christian woman's sympathy with fellow-mortals in dire distress. [The Pilgrim Press. $1.25.] The Gun-Runner. Though this book is sprightly and attractive in style and the events it narrates are those which made the daily heroism of the American Revolution, and though the locality, Long Island, is one less treated in historical fiction than other parts of the country, the question presses The Gun-Runner, by Bertram Mitford, is anitself anew: Does such an amount of semi- other story of South Africa. The scene is laid historic work as is now produced stimulate pat-in Zululand, and the time is that of the war of riotism or the desire for unusual adventure? 1879, in which Cetywayo and his fierce warriors That this and similar books are better than at first defeated the British forces, but were at yellow sensational literature goes without say- last overcome. The leading character is one ing, and perhaps they lead to an appreciation of Denver Mounteney, the eldest son of an English the "dry bones" of history. Be this as it may, baronet, who, the victim of legal injustice, has Miss Mary B. Sleight, author of the present renounced his native country, and, under an volume, has evinced her historical accuracy and assumed name, is living on the borders of Zuher picturesque skill; her dramatic ability is luland. There he trades with the Zulus, and, in also conspicuous in her treatment of the steed defiance of the law, secretly supplies them with "Lord Lion." The appendix, with its muster firearms, whence the name given him of "gunroll, is valuable. The story is a fitting dramatic runner." The story is one of love and revenge, sequel though probably not so intended to ending in the death of the heroine, and the disMartha B. Flint's Early Long Island, reviewed appearance of her broken-hearted lover, Mountin these columns in 1896, which gives an account eney, who is never heard of again. Regarded of the history of Long Island prior to the events merely as a work of fiction, the book does not described in Miss Sleight's book. [Lothrop Pub rise above mediocrity; but its pictures of South lishing Co. $1.50.] African scenery and life, together with those of the war with Cetywayo, are exceedingly well drawn. The author defends the Zulus, and declares their downfall was that of "the finest and most intelligent race of savages in the world." [R. F. Fenno & Co. $1.25.] Cian of the Chariots. The Lost Provinces. ever beautiful, living in a mean house in a poor part of London, should have suddenly descend upon her an enormously rich young viscount, who under an assumed name woos and wins as did the Lord of Burleigh, and transports his love from her lowly home to his own splendid one? It is an improbable but sunny story, and leaves the dramatis persona provided for after the most satisfactory manner — rich, wedded, entirely blissful; and perhaps after the unrelieved gloom of certain modern novels, we should be thankful for such a glimpse of pos sible paradise. [J. B. Lippincott Co. $1.25.] The Story of a Genius. This tale from the German of Ossip Schubin, 'Englished" by E. H. Lockwood, is of a tragical description. Gesa von Zuylen, the hero of the story, is a little hero-worshipper of a waif in whose small frame a certain portion of that divine fire which men call "genius" has been implanted. His passionate affection is given to two people, Annette, his beautiful young betrothed, and his friend Alphonse, a brilliant, shifty musician of talent, years older than the enthusiastic boy whom he patronizes and plays with. He profits by the position, sends Gesa off on a concert tour, and during his absence steals his love and his opera. Gesa returns to find Annette dying, and later, sitting in the orchestra, recognizes his Own music in the oratorio which is winning fame for his treacherous rival; through the double loss his life is wrecked. [R. F. Fenno & Co. 75c.] Ashes of Empire. Ashes of Empire: A Romance is another of Mr. Robert W. Chambers's graphic and exciting novels, and covers the period of the FrancoPrussian War and the Commune. The scene opens in Paris on the day of the flight of the empress, and the story relates the fortunes of two young American newspaper correspondents, Messrs. Bourke and Harewood, who remain in the city during the siege, largely because of the attractions of Yolette and Hildé Chalais, their sweet and innocent young landladies, whom they manfully protect and finally espouse. The story abounds in artistic word-pictures, and the interest aroused at the beginning is sustained to the last page. Yolette and Hildé are charming creations, and the reader will draw a sigh of satisfaction when he learns of their escape from all peril and their union with the young men whose hearts they have won. Ashes of Empire is a success, and throws a strong search-light upon the stormy period during which the proud French capital was humbled to the dust. We welcome the author's announcement that he purposes adding a fourth and concluding volume to the series, "dealing with the southern invasion of France, coeval with the siege, and concerning the operations of the famous Army of the Loire." [Frederick A. Stokes Co.] Cian of the Chariots is, to quote its sub-title, A Romance of the Days of Arthur, Emperor of Britain, and His Knights of the Round Table: How They Delivered London and Overthrew the Saxons after the Downfall of Roman Britain. The author, William H. Babcock, has evidently This story by Louis Tracy is the tale of anmade a study of the period of which he writes, other great war between France and Germany. but he has failed to catch its spirit. The reader The command of the French army is given, is not beguiled into imagining that he is living strangely enough, to an American millionaire, in the days of the Romanized Britons and their who carries everything before him, and both as merciless foes, the Saxons, but is ever and anon a soldier and as a diplomat shows wonderful beset with the feeling that he is beholding nine- ingenuity. The story both is and seems imposteenth century men and women awkwardly mas-sible, and it is written in a sensational style querading in what they mistake for fifth-century which will at once prejudice readers of any costume. Nor is Mr. Babcock happy in his style. It is stilted and verbose, and, utterly unMr. Benjamin W. Bond, who has been for conscious as he may be of the fact, often reveals fifteen years with the Century Co. as the head of a painful striving after effect, as witness the Rosa Nouchette Cary's stories lie in an ideal their subscription department, has resigned his following sentence, quoted at random: "Near and perhaps over-happy world. There are no post permanently, and will spend the rest of his her, Sanawg, tall in her swaying velvet twilight sorrows nor disappointments not made good in days-may they be many!-in a well-earned beauty, overrun with hidden fire, an ambassa- the end, no one is "left lamenting" as in real leisure. Mr. Bond is a graduate of the New dress from the Orient and the elder time." It | life, broken hearts are mended, and love has its | York University, and through all his long busiis not pleasant to have to say all this of a story inevitable reward. In this story, for example:ness life has been connected with printing and upon which, no doubt, the author has expended how seldom it happens that a lame girl, how | publishing. literary taste. [G. P. Putnam's Sons. $1.50.] Mollie's Prince. All communications relating to subscriptions, advertising the first principle of the Guild is enduring ing, or other business matters of the LITERARY WORLD should be addressed to the publishers, E. H. HAMES & Co., 14 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. All communications for the editorial department may be addressed as above, or to the Editors of the LITERARY WORLD, II Dana Street, Cambridge, Mass. The poet's day is different from another, So crystal-clear the air that he looks through, workmanship, and the second, artistic excellence. The results bear close comparison with the work of the Hampstead Bindery which celebrated its first birthday on January 1st, and consists of professional men-binders selected for artistic abil ity and experience. The elaborate care bestowed on some of the books is suggested by the prices attached, $25 being frequently named for a single volume from the Women's Guild, while many of the Hampstead books have set upon them an even higher value. Pessimistic and discouraged booksellers will find some cheer in the last number of the The world wherein he wanders, dreams, and sings, Dial which devotes an editorial to the present Thrills with the beating of invisible wings; And all day long he hears from hidden birds The low, melodious pour of musicked words. unhappy condition of the retail bookdealer, whose position is assailed on one side by the - From In Palestine and Other Poems, by RICHARD all-absorbing rapacity of the department stores WATSON GILDER. It is now more than three months since Cyrano de Bergerac won the approval of American audiences, and the interest in it, which in truth has shown no signs of failing, has received fresh strength from the claims of Mr. Samuel Eberly Gross of Chicago. The whole story is rather a long one, but it seems that Mr. Gross declares that in the years between 1875 and 1879 he found relaxation from business cares in writing a drama, which was copyrighted in England in 1896, that a copy was submitted to Mr. A. M. Palmer, Mr. Mansfield's present manager, and that Cyrano de Bergerac as played by Mr. Mansfield is nothing but a close imitation of his own play, The Merchant Prince of Cornville. Mr. Mansfield declares he has never heard of Mr. Gross or his play. Mr. Palmer smiles and advises Mr. Gross to see M. Rostand, but the author of The Merchant Prince, indignant for his honor and his rights, has brought suit, for infringement of copyright, against Mr. Mansfield and Mr. Palmer in the Federal Court. We would refer curious readers to the Chicago Inter Ocean of January 6th, which devotes eight columns to a statement of the case and an extraordinarily detailed comparison of the disputed plays. We trust that the decision of the court will not shake our faith in M. Rostand. A very interesting biography, by the way, of "The Real Cyrano de Bergerac" is one of the attractions of the January Critic, and in the same number are some equally interesting bits of gossip apropos of the French play, its history and its adventures. From all accounts, he is more "advanced" than M. Doumic, who refused to bring his daughter with him here on the score that even a few weeks in America would render her too independent for home ways and paternal authority. Mr. Coleman's paper on Ibsen — again we turn to our friend the Critic — moves us to quote a characterization of Ibsen from a little book of verse just published. A cannon shot, not fired to kill, But to dislodge and make to rise Whatever one may think of Ibsen's work and his justification in stirring up unpleasantness, Mr. Bragdon's quatrain is distinctly clever. A "Disappointed Author's Club" has just been formed in Philadelphia, which is composed of only such persons as can produce large numbers of unsold manuscripts. Successful authors are not eligible for membership, and as soon as a member begins to sell his stories he is regarded with disfavor by the club. All rejected manuscripts are to be read by the writers before the club, and at the conclusion of the reading the literary judgment and the character of the editor who returned them are to be assailed. One of the interesting portraits in the last Critic is that of Miss Pamela Colman Smith whose work in color is said to have the cleverness of Aubrey Beardsley without his coarseness. Mr. R. H. Russell will publish a collection of Jamaica folk stories, set down and illustrated by Miss Smith, and lovers of imaginative and original drawings are promised a treat in her prints. and on the other by the publishers who are developing an alarming desire to deal directly with their readers without the intervention of middlemen. The Doubleday and McClure Company's offer to send their publications on approval is only an instance of this accommodating tendency; but the Dial holds out comfort in the thought that the business of the distribution of books is in a state of transition, that the final settlement will be satisfactory to all concerned, An interesting experiment in book-illusand that retail booksellers are as necessary tration seems to have met with success in the members of the economic army as retail dealers work of Miss Gloria Cardew, which is one of in eggs and butter. We hope the Dial's views the attractions of the London book-binding exwill be supported, for no selection of books hibition. Miss Cardew has a remarkable faculty, from a publisher's circular will ever approach it is said, for coloring the black and white illusthe joy of handling fresh covers on a booksel-trations of books, and the books which she has ler's counter. Fancy Boston without a book-embellished are counted as artistic triumphs. shop! We wonder what will be the outcome of the rumored intention of English publishers to take up the question of review copies whose distribution is becoming a more serious tax each year. With new reviews constantly appearing. and with the ever increasing number of books, the publishers' problem is certainly serious. NEW YORK LETTER. Speaking of bookshops, the LITERARY WORLD was ready not so very long ago to condemn them all. It wished very much a copy of Bab Ballads, that classic of nonsense verse, and after visiting nine bookshops it could find in the whole of literary Boston only two copies, one, Routledge's new edition to be sure, but shopworn beyond any possible purchase, and the other an incomplete, impossibly common little edition of several years ago. The Routledge edi- R. CLYDE FITCH is just now one of tion was fished out of a dusty corner in one of the most conspicuous of our literary men. our biggest establishments by a very polite shop- His play, Nathan Hale, is having not only a man whose answer to the first inquiries for the great popular success here, but is praised by the Bab Ballads had been, "Oh, yes, Kipling?" And leading critics as a notable effort to treat seriwhen later in a neighboring shop the LITERARY ously an American theme. Though Mr. Fitch WORLD was urged to buy the incomplete book, has not yet reached his thirty-fifth year, he has because "it was so much cheaper than the larger already had a remarkable career as an original edition," it felt that even in Boston the book-dramatist and as an adapter of plays from forsellers were degenerating. One of the most interesting communications which have come to us lately is the Messrs. The many who have enjoyed during the Karslake's catalogue of the exhibition of artistic past two years the brilliant lectures of M. Brunebook-bindings now in progress at their rooms, tière and M. Doumic, will welcome the news 61 Charing Cross Road. The chief contribu- that already a successor is promised for a third tions to the display are from the Guild of series in the person of M. Edouard Rod, in Women-Binders, but in the catalogue are listed whose coming Harvard University and the also some examples from the Hampstead Bin- Cercle Français are instrumental. M. Rod is a dery and from the Sandringham Bindery. A Protestant and a "Dreyfusard," and, unlike his year ago was held the first organized exhibition | predecessors, speaks at least a little English. MR eign sources, as a writer of fiction, and as the author of a clever little book satirizing American social life. He is a graduate of Amherst College, where, by the way, he distinguished himself by writing verse. He has a keen sense of dramatic values, a humor which is always incisive and amusing if not of the highest quality, and skill in the making of dialogue. Thus far, his execution has fallen beneath the originality and the power of his conceptions; but, as he is tremendously industrious and ambitious, he gives promise of distinguished achievement in the next ten years. The path of the dramatist is difficult; but Mr. Fitch seems to be treading it to not merely artistic, but financial success as well. which he had been telling over a dinner table, The Macmillan Co. has brought out in this In spite of its difficulties, the path is one that most of our writers seek to tread. Where one play by an American author is produced, a hundred are written. One well-known dramatist, who had her first play produced a few years ago, confessed that she had thirty more in her trunk. Think of the pluck and the persistence and the industry that this statement unconsciously re-lection of brief biographies of the celebrities of vealed! At present the band of American the hour, entitled Who's Who? It makes a dramatists, so small only a few years ago, is handsome volume, and it is a fairly serviceable increasing with more or less rapidity. I was book of reference, though by no means complete astonished to hear that the American Drama- or infallible. Just what method Mr. Sladen tists' Club, which admits to membership only pursued in preparing the biographies, and in the dramatists who have had at least one play revising and adding to them for 1899, I don't produced before a paying audience, is composed know; but he has apparently aimed at including of about eighty members, one half of whom are those names of interest to the English public. I active members, residing chiefly in or near New have observed, however, that he has left out a York. At present some of the most prominent number of American names that might with of these dramatists are trying to carry through a advantage have been included. For example, scheme for the establishment of a theater where among our younger poets, though Bliss Carman promising American plays shall be tried. In and Professor Roberts are mentioned, Richard this way it is hoped that our playwrights will Hovey and Clinton Scollard and Archibald find better opportunities than they now have to Lampman are left out. And as for our dramexploit their works. Even more than our novel-atists, no mention is made of Bronson Howard, ists, our dramatists are handicapped by the competition of foreign works. In this country audiences enjoy seeing English or French plays just as much as American plays; but as the French and the English have no such catholicity of taste, the American dramatist not only has one market merely, but he finds that crowded by his foreign rivals! Have you happened to observe how popular authors, like the rest of the world, have their ups and downs? A few years ago Conan Doyle and Stanley Weyman were on the top of the wave, now we are hearing comparatively little about them; and yet tomorrow they may bring out books that will make them talked about from one end of the country to the other. At this moment, among English writers at any rate, Anthony Hope seems to be the most successful and conspicuous figure. He turns out his romances and plays with great regularity, and everything he undertakes seems to win popular favor. During the past year it is safe to say that his income has probably exceeded that of any other English author. Even the wretched dramatic version of his Phroso, now running here, is received by large audiences with rapturous applause. Clyde Fitch, or Augustus Thomas. Among our A writer in one of the periodicals has lately declared, in a very clever article, that, in this country, readers no longer read poetry as they once did, and apparently care for very little in literature except fiction. The statement must be accepted with some reservations, however. Though people do not quote poetry as much as formerly, and though the average reader has a very slight acquaintance with poetry, it still has its devotees, and very enthusiastic devotees at that. In other words, poetry, instead of appealing to the public at large, now has a special public of its own. In England the same condition has for a long time prevailed with regard to In several quarters lately I have been hearing poetry, but one London publisher, Mr. John praises for Ave Roma Immortalis, which seems Lane, had so strong a faith in the devotion to succeed in spite of its title. Why such a title of a class of readers to the younger poets, that a should be chosen for a book designed to appeal few years ago he brought forward several new to the public passes understanding, especially writers of verse, and actually made their books when it is known that publishers and authors pay. Among our younger American poets are both realize the commercial value of a title that several who are winning success with the poetryattracts. But Mr. F. Marion Crawford, no mat-loving audience. A few of them, by the way, ter how much he may write or how much he may be abused for his facility, always has an audience ready to welcome a new book from his hand. His friends were not surprised to hear that in his latest volume he had developed into the historian. Even before he achieved his success as novelist, Mr. Crawford had done considerable historical work, and, if he had not been persuaded by his uncle, the late Sam Ward, to write out the story of Mr. Isaacs, are of Canadian birth, and have made the Mr. Richard Le Gallienne, who passed the One of the best selling books of the hour comes from your enterprising Boston publishers, Messrs. Small, Maynard & Co. I need hardly say that it is entitled Mr. Dooley: In Peace and in War. If any readers of the LITERARY WORLD have not seen it, I would advise them to secure it at once, and to enjoy some of the most original humor that has been placed between covers in many a day. I happen to know that while Mr. Dooley's" articles were making a small sensation in Chicago, and were traveling through the columns of the newspapers from one end of the country to the other, a prominent New York publishing house tried to secure the right to bring them out in book form. But the young Boston firm, which has lately brought out some of the finest specimens of book-making achieved in this country, captured the prize. The many readers of stories by Mr. Clinton Ross will be glad to hear that the author has completely recovered from an accident which occurred to him a short time ago. While walking along the street, he was struck by a falling sign and considerably shaken. He is now finishing a new novel. Mr. Ross is far and away the most industrious of our younger writers. Of late, I hear that he is developing earnest ambitions as a writer of plays and that he has already completed two comedies. JOHN D. BARRY. OUR FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE. Instead of "The Affair" in Paris, Figaro has an article every morning on "The Affairs," and Picquart is in a fair way to become as celebrated as Dreyfus. Indeed, we saw the other day a postal card with a picture of Colonel Picquart reproduced on its face, so that the sympathizers with that fin de siècle martyr might use his portrait in their correspondence. Meantime the widow of Colonel Henry has received so large a sum through a public subscription to enable her to bring suit against M. Reinach, who called her husband a traitor, that the subscription list was closed while the money was still pouring in. Some of the messages which accompanied the subscriptions were very amusing as well as very instructive to those who are interested in the course of French public opinion. We quote a few examples: "From twenty-two lieutenants of dragoons whose swords are ready." "From two granddaughters of a general of the first empire who would never have hesitated to have the infamous Dreyfus shot." "From a woman who cannot look at a por. trait of Reinach without feeling ill.” "From a widow who sympathizes with Madame Henry, and would like to see Reinach boiled alive." "From one who would like to eat a Jew, though he should die of the horrible repast." Such straws show the way the wind still blows, although the wife of a well-known French poet, Madame Gustave Kahn, herself a Catholic, has just been publicly received into the Jewish Church as a sign that she sympathizes with her Jewish husband in the present persecution of the Jewish race. Nothing new 10 striking has lately appeared in the French book world. Edmond Rostand's father, a conscientious writer and compiler, has been made a member of a branch of the French Academy, so that when the brilliant author of Cyrano becomes an academician we may see the unusual sight of two generations of talent in the academy. The city of Paris has accepted a gift from the heirs of Puvis de Chavannes of 163 designs and sketches. The only condition attached to the gift was that the pictures should be permanently on view, and always hung at a certain levelthat is to say never “skied," as artists call it. The pictures are to be eventually hung in the new museum of the city of Paris, which is to be completed in 1900; meantime they are on public exhibition elsewhere. For the most part, these sketches consist in designs for the decoration of the Boston Public Library and the Panthéon. $10,000 a year. Curiously enough, with a poet for honorary president, the acting president of this charity is also a poet, though one not known to the American reading public. Germany has produced nothing of great interest since Gerhardt Hauptmann's last play, but D'Annunzio has just written and dedicated to Madame Duse a very remarkable tragedy - La Gioconda, a play in four acts. Until we read the fourth act we thought what a marvelous rôle this would be for Madame Duse; what a capital acting play it is, besides all its wealth of poetry, of language, of passion. But the fourth act is very critical; a mad woman, mad as Ophelia is, and yet without any previous connection with the dramatis persona, is a very doubtful experiment to introduce into the fourth act of a play whose Those who remember François Coppée's mov-scene is laid in modern times. Maeterlinck does ing story, Le Coupable, which described the misfortunes of a deserted child, will not be surprised to hear that he is honorary president of one of the most interesting charities in Paris. This charity was founded five or six years ago by an advocate who argued many cases for friendless boys. M. Rollet gradually became more and more interested in his little clients, and finally asked permission of the Baroness Thénard to use in their behalf a large unoccupied building which belonged to her. From this simple beginning has sprung a large and flourishing charity, if we may use a convenient word which M. Rollet rejects. On the outside of the building are placed the following inscriptions: To boys between 12 and 18 years old who find themselves without homes or work. Come in. All are welcome. You will have the honor of gaining by work your food and lodging. If you continue to work for several days you will also earn some clothing and will be given situations according to your tastes and abilities. We offer you work, not charity. "Do not lament your ill-fortune, but try to make yourself worthy of a better."-Mme. de Maintenon. "Nothing is mended by discouragement.". Stohl. "Struggle bravely, good habits conquer bad ones."- Imitation of Christ. "Ask not for the prize before you have gained the victory, nor for your wages before your work is done, but work and hope."-Jean Jacques Rousseau. Besides these words to the children, an inscription asks the passersby to help in this good work by giving their time, service, money, clothes or books, and this inscription concludes with the following sentences: "He who has love in his heart never lacks a gift."-St. Augustine. "Strengthen your weak-hearted brother.". Victor Hugo. -- "And whoso receiveth one such little child in my name receiveth me."-St. Matthew. "The best charity is that which takes away temptations and stumbling blocks from our neighbour's path."— Channing. that sort of thing, but then Maeterlinck does not write for the stage of today. As a play to read La Gioconda is very powerful, and the scene between the two women in the third act is very impressive. We can easily imagine the fire with which Madame Duse would play this part. So far the play has not been staged, and we scarcely think it could be given without alterations, but looked at from the point of view of poetry and psychology, it is really a masterpiece. It has all D'Annunzio's beauty of style without that unpleasant exuberance which renders his novels disagreeable to many people quite apart from their immorality. The Tyrol, January 2, 1899. CORRESPONDENCE. E. To the Editor of the Literary World: It was a most favorable and laudatory notice (Dec. 14, 1895) of Dr. Wolfe's Literary Pilgrim age and Literary Shrines in the careful and discriminating LITERARY WORLD that first called my attention to them, and I found them in every way worthy of your high praise. In a notice of the same author's recent book, Literary Haunts and Homes of American Authors (Dec. 24, 1898), you urge against the book that Boston, whose product of literary people is so large, is left untouched. Apparently the reason for this is that the Boston authors had been treated of in a previous volume of the series, (viz., Literary Shrines) and this new volume was to be mainly devoted to New York authors. The new book is quite as good as its predecessors, and I am sure you will correct your recent notice so far as to say to your readers that the omission of Boston authors is not a fault of the book, for the reason above given, but apparently part of the plan of the author to treat of American writers in a series of volumes. So many of us found our opinions of books upon yours, that I wish you always to be right. Yours truly, Brooklyn, January 2, 1899. E. V. HORTON. WORLD BIOGRAPHIES. William Canton. — In spite of his American publishers Mr. Canton is comparatively unknown on this side of the water, and we are Since January 5, 1894, more than 5,000 children glad to be able to speak a word of hearty have been helped by this institution. Of these welcome to a man whose books must recom2,500 have found permanent places. During the mend him to all who read them, and whose past year 1,400 boys have received assistance, personal friendship with our friend, Mr. and the cost of the entire establishment is but | Oscar Fay Adams, gives him a claim to the attentions of Boston people in particular. Our own acquaintance with him was made first, about two years ago, through a little green copy of The Invisible Playmate, published without date by Messrs. Tait & Sons, and the sweet, pathetic, and weird story of a little child's short life, as told in letters by her adoring father, made an instant and lasting impression. It happened that the copy which came to us from the publisher was the only one which we saw anywhere, but that others must have found appreciative readers is evidenced by the fact that a few months ago a new edition was brought out by Messrs. Dodd, Mead & Co., which contained also W. V., Her Book. Of Mr. Canton's latest book, W. V's Golden Legend, an extended review will be found in another column; among his other publications are The Shining Waif and Other Stories, published in 1879 by Messrs. Dunn & Wright of Glasgow, A Lost Epic and Other Poems, issued by Messrs. Blackwood in 1887, a three-volume novel and several novelettes which have appeared in periodicals, and a poem, Through the Ages, written for the New Quarterly Magazine, which attracted it is said great attention, especially from Professor Huxley, who called it the first attempt to use as a subject of poetry the raw material of science. It is also said that Matthew Arnold, Prof. Max Müller, Mr. Quiller Couch, and R. H. Hutton are to be counted among the ardent admirers of Mr. Canton's work. Like many another of our present day writers, Mr. Canton began and has continued his literary work as a journalist, but the circumstances of his birth and parentage and early training seem to us in large measure responsible for the peculiarly lovely qualities of thought and expression that make his work more than the pleasant writing of a successful journalist. He was born in the island of Chusan, off the coast of China, in 1845, the son of an Irish father and a Northumbrian mother, and the picturesque influence of life in a foreign land was continued when later, while he was still a child, the family removed to Jamaica. Although he did not follow out the profession originally intended for him, and is not now a member of the Roman Catholic Church, he was educated for the Roman Catho lic priesthood at the college of Douay in France, and W. V.'s Golden Legend suggests a pleasant memorial to his early teaching in the history of the Church and the lives and legends of her saints. For a time, after leaving the seminary, he made teaching his profession, but after one or two minor engagements with newspapers, he began regular journalistic work in 1876, as an editor of the Glasgow Weekly Herald. Today he is manager to the London firm of Messrs. Isbister & Co., and besides supervising the books of the firm, he is responsible for the editorship of the Sunday Magazine, and takes an important part in directing Good Words and the Contemporary Review; that in spite of his busy life he can write books that bear no trace of haste, excitement, or want of care, shows that Mr. Canton's abilities are unusual. We wish that we could reproduce here the face that looks out, as we write, from Mr. Canton's photograph, a face that explains at once why Mr. Canton loves children and their doings with an understanding love, and why his books have their peculiar charm. Strength, knowledge, sweetness, sympathy, content, kindly humor, are all there to make up a loveableness that warms the heart in return; but if we cannot picture these qualities here in his likeness, we can at least quote from a letter to us a passage which seems to breathe the writer's personality: He (Mr. Adams) will tell you that W. V. (Winifred Vida) is a very real person. At least the phenomenon of her has persisted now for eight and a half years, and I don't think that the most inveterate philosopher would contest her probable permanence and actuality. If he had to pay for her boots, at any rate, the last doubt as to her reality would be promptly dissipated. The Boy, too, is as uproariously objective as a person of two years can be. He is very sympathetic and affectionate, and if he does not distinguish himself as a postman or message boy when he grows up, he will probably command the British fleet, whence you will gather that he is versatile, active and imperious with large possibilities in front of him. We shall be glad to hear more of W. V. and the Boy—indeed, of anything that Mr. Canton chooses to tell us. PERSONALS. - In the death of Captain Julius A. Palmer, Boston loses one of its notable citizens, who, in spite of his acknowledged eccentricities and the notoriety he achieved in championing the cause of the Hawaiian queen, was a man to be loved and respected by all who knew him. By profession, Captain Palmer was a follower of the sea; but, unlike most sailors, he found in his pen, or more truly his typewriter, a familiar friend, and for years was one of the most valued contributors to The Transcript. - Mr. Theodore Watts-Dunton in his early life was engaged in the practice of law, but he is said to have always been a close student of liter. ature and science; when he found he could not continue his scientific study without opportunities for original investigation, he turned his attention solely to literature, and under Mr. Norman MacColl began his association with the Athenæum, that has proved him one of the most scholarly and profound of living critics. -It is reported that Andrew Carnegie has offered $250,000 to erect a public library building for the city of Washington, provided that Congress will make suitable provision for site and maintenance. -The trustees of the Boston Public Library have filled the vacancy made by the death of Mr. A. M. Knapp, the late custodian of Bates Hall, by the appointment of Mr. Oscar Bierstadt, who has been employed in the Astor Library in New York for twenty-five years. Mr. Bierstadt is a Boston man by birth; although he is not a college man, he has a wide knowledge of books, and is an accomplished linguist, and he brings to his new duties long experience and a reputation for the courtesy, tact, and patience that the position demands. -The late Mr. Dingley's engrossing public duties never alienated him from the editorial work which was his chosen profession. From the time he purchased the Lewiston Journal in 1856, he maintained a close editorial supervision of the paper, and it is said that even during the last presidential campaign his contributions were remarkable for their quantity and quality. His responses to Coin Harvey, published in the Journal, were distributed as tracts by the National Republican Committee. able book, Life is Life, set critics talking, is Miss Gwendoline Keats. The Book Buyer shows an interesting portrait, and for once the author's face does not belie her book. -It is said that Dr. Sven Hedin is planning to start about the middle of this year for another journey of exploration into Central Asia. Mr. Stanley Lane Poole, author of the volume recently published by G. P. Putnam's Sons in the "Heroes of the Nations" series, entitled Saladin and the Fall of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, has just been appointed Professor of Arabic in the University of Dublin. From the Book Buyer for January we quote Miss Louise Imogen Guiney's description of Harold Frederic in her sympathetic 'halflength sketch from the life.” London was no more than a feeder for the far more important market of Thorney, and its present site only a couple of low hillocks rising from the mud of the river, on which a few fishermen bad erected huts, the narrative brings us gradually down by majestic sweeps to the Roman occupation, the Danish incursions, the Norman conquest, the gradual building of royal palaces, religious houses, churches, and monasteries on the reclaimed swamp lands, until the quaint and sumptuous old London arose, to be destroyed by fire in the sixteenth century, and rebuilt with the still quaint but infinitely less sumptuous London, whose vestiges furnish the points most interesting to antiquarians in our own day. His freshness of touch and genial humor make Sir Walter Besant's delightful gossipings most attractive to the reader, and the excellence of print, binding, and pictures would lend value to really one of the most meritorious of the Christa far stupider book. It is mas issues of 1898. [Frederick A. Stokes Co. $3.00.] Historic Homes of the Southwest Mountains, Virginia. Made up of pleasant talk and interesting pic Frederic was not handsome, though he looked almost that, when for some time he chose to wear a beard; but he was, rather, in a phrase of Carlyle's, a "big, brotherly, restful man," whose smile was very boyish, and whose broad hand was good to grasp. He was tall, blond, muscular, fairly brisk, and strong as a tower. In a face somewhat immobile, his eyes had the look which often survives a shy and stubborn childhood. It was the face, as I have just said, of one who is afraid of nothing. He went down to Marseilles in 1884, when it was reeking with cholera; he went to Russia in 1891, to investitures is this volume, partly essay, partly hisgate the abominable persecution of the Jews tory, partly biography, by Edward C. Mead, who there, and to record recklessly his own scorch has already published The Genealogical History ing protest against it. He would have been an of the Lee Family of Virginia and Maryland. ideal war correspondent, in these days when the standards by which we are to measure them. uate the history of the famous old Virginia war correspondents have set so splendidly high In this volume the author endeavors to perpetHe was a great talker: the quality of his talk homes along the southwest mountains, and to was equal to the quantity and that is saying give an "anecdotal account and brief genealogy" much. Frederic had an off-hand, mock-heroic, sively American. In his indignations, there was fersons, the Randolphs, the Pages, are some of chaffing flow of speech, which, again, is exclu- of the families connected with them. The Jefa fine Niagara freshet of words, which the late the good old names included; and in all we Mr. Macaulay could barely hope to rival. And have brief accounts of nearly thirty old houses he told a story as well as he wrote one. and estates, some of which have already passed out of the hands of their original owners, and much interesting genealogical information. There are twenty-three pictures of houses and scenes described, and a map of the region under discussion. The printing, binding, and general appearance of the book are notably handsome, and the contents, of especial interest to Virginians, will appeal to all who take delight in oldtime things. [J. B. Lippincott Co. $3.50.] MINOR NOTICES. Charles Lamb and the Lloyds. One of the most important publications of the year, Charles Lamb and the Lloyds, comes from the J. B. Lippincott Co., and comprises newly discovered letters of Charles Lamb, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and the Lloyds. It will be remembered that the friendship between Lamb and the Lloyds was of early date. Between Robert Lloyd and Lamb there seems to have existed a charming relationship of disciple and mentor, and Lamb's letters to his young and somewhat impetuous friend throw new and interesting light upon Lamb's attitude toward life, and are a valuable addition to Eliana. The two Coleridge letters, addressed to the elder Lloyd and dealing with the health and plans of his son while under Coleridge's personal instruction, are less interesting, being of a somewhat pedantic character. The importance of the Lamb correspondence, however, will be attested to by every disciple of Elia who reads this new volume. [$2.00.] South London. It is difficult to say which is most charming in this volume, Sir Walter Besant's history of the rise, growth, and development of long ago London in the Southwark and Lambeth districts, from the Roman times to our own, or the illustrations in etching and engraving with which it is enriched. Both in their way are admirable. -The real name of "Zack," whose remark- Beginning with "The First Settlements," when Little Journeys to the Homes of American Statesmen. With unwearied ardor Elbert Hubbard has made his fourth biographical circuit and with follow his researches. He has not wholly dishalf critical, half pleasurable emotions do we missed his old flippant touch, though it certainly gives an air of novelty to this redressing of ancient material, as in the sketch of Washing ton. Only unstinted praise should be accorded to the articles on Hamilton, Jay, Jefferson, and Clay, which show large insight as they weigh the greatnesses and littlenesses of the men, and summarize the good in generous and concise manner. The comparison of Burr to Hamilton is keen; the tenderness in speaking of Jefferson's love for his wife, and the balancing of Jay's common-sense and of Clay's eloquence is fine. Neatly worded sentences light up the pages, like the conceit of wondering why Paul Revere was not the second President of the United States, instead of John Adams, since the tendency is to glorify men of action. Finest of all is the tribute to Lincoln written out of Child's boyish recollections of the people who |