bility of moral shipwreck, rather than of the sort of marine disaster which leaves the hero with a clear conscience and a poor prospect of living to enjoy it.

In the special complications in which Miss Davis's people find themselves involved, no one is to blame but themselves. The question of the proprieties in the matter of the chaperonage of a young girl is one which has already been accorded a definite and final answer by what is known as society. Thefe may be, indeed there doubtless are, thousands of persons who are outwardly conventional who secretly resent what they call the tyranny of convention, but they sooner or later find that this resentment results in a useless waste of nerve tissue. They must accept it sooner or later, whether they wish to or not, if they desire to retain whatever position socially they may have. As a matter of course, the young woman who actually needs a chaperon should be locked up and permitted to go nowhere with or without one.) It is equally a matter of course that many who are chaperoned do not need to be; yet society decrees that chaperonage is desirable and necessary, and those who flagrantly violate a social decree shortly find themselves in trouble.

The hero and heroine of this romance violate one of these decrees by going to sea together without the impediment of an elderly lady to look after the young woman, and they choose to do this upon a steamer bound on a long voyage and filled with a gathering of passengers who have very little to do, to while away their time, but to talk of each other, and the ship in which they embark is unusually well provided with busybodies who prefer the dark to the brighter side of a picture. The troubles which are visited upon the whole ship's company by the unconventional relation of the central figures are numerous, and quite in a line with what, had they been able to reason à priori, they might have expected.

To this extent Miss Davis's story is essentially true to life. Her characterization of the sharp-tongued old maid of Buddhistic tendencies is exceedingly clever. Her chivalrous Colonel Guthrie, who rarely does the right thing at the right time, one may deem too like the Western Cattle King of whom we read, and too little like the fortunate millionaire owner of ranches that we have seen. Guthrie is rather overdrawn, but one must confess that anatomically he is quite correct, since his heart, whatever his mistakes of judgment, appears to be in the right place.

The narrative runs along in sprightly fashion, and, in spite of a plot which is so slender that it seems more worthy of a short story than of a work of sustained fiction, is never wearisome, and often vastly entertaining.

It is pleasant to record, too, a firmer touch in the author than is to be found in her earlier work. It is quite evident that Miss Davis had her story well in hand before she put her pen

to paper, and it possesses the charm which in variably is imparted to a narrative which the author has enjoyed writing, and which is therefore classed among the things which are spontaneons.

AND there is still another type of sea-book to be considered. This is the work not of a romancer, not of a writer of realistic fiction, but The Memories of a Rear-Admiral.3 It is the realest kind of realism because its author writes entirely of what he has seen, and not of that which he might have seen if it had happened. Rear-Admiral Franklin may not have, to a marked degree, the gift of storytelling, but he has the equally rare gift of the "old sea-dog," as the individual is called, of talking interestingly to landlubbers. Sailors' yarns appeal strongly to boys of all ages. Ordinarily the sailor holds himself under very little restraint. Indeed, some sailor yarns are scarcely credible; but when the author Las worked his way up from the midshipman's mess to the admiral's flag he gradually becomes conservative, and one may properly accept as true all that he tells. The author of "The Memories of a Rear-Admiral" has lived through a notably interesting period of his country's progress. He has served in the Mexican war and in the civil war. He has not been found wanting in either, and he has now the gratification of witnessing, as few of his contemporaries have had, the ultimate glories of the American navy, and of feeling, no doubt, that he has himself contributed not a little to its present efficiency.

In the days in which we live, to Americans the American navy and all that pertains to it is a topic of absorbing interest. We have learned much latterly of life on a mau-of-war, and the information which purveyors of the news have given may be considered reasonably accurate—indeed, entirely so—if so be that we gather it from the pages of our more reputable journals. But the conditions prevailing aboard ship in the earlier days have been more or less a closed book to an age which never heard of Herman Melville, and which prefers Anthony Hope to Captain Marryat. When Rear-Admiral Franklin talks of these early days of our navy, he is sure of his reader's interest, and what he tells us of his cruises back in the forties is not only pleasant reading, but is likely in the end to prove of an educational value. The interested reader, getting, as he does here, a side light on the history of his own country, is apt to pursue the subject further, and to acquaint himself with the recorded facts in order that he may the more fully comprehend and appreciate the comments of the author. The history of

3 Memories of a Rear-Admiral, Who has Served for More than Half a Century in the Navy of the United States. By S. R. FRANKLIN, Rear-Admiral, US N (retired). Illustrated. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Deckel Edges and Gilt Top, $3 00. New York and London: Harper

and Brothers.

the United States from 1861 to 1898 is familiar to almost all. The events immediately preceding this period, one may assert with confidence, are somewhat hazily fixed in our minds. Rear-Admiral Franklin does much to remedy this by giving here and there au interesting reminiscence which impels the reader to look further into the episodes with which he deals.

The bulk of the volume is given over to casual comment upon the foreign countries Admiral Franklin has visited and the incidents of his stay therein, on his various cruises, all of which is presented with a certain modest assurance which transforms a perusal of the book into a pleasant tour under the guidance of an attractive cicerone.

FROM whatever point of view one may approach the work of Mrs. Humphry Ward, one must admit its extraordinary power. The novel dealing with problems of life has been variously received. Some of them, in spite of a vast degree of popularity, are deservedly condemned by the discriminating reader, but in Mrs. Ward's pictures of life it would seem improper to condemn the author for painting scenes which are undoubtedly true, for the existence of which she is not responsible, and in the depicting of which she is unswervingly faithful. The great power of Balzac, one might say, lies in the delineation of life, sympathetically without sympathy with any one, but with all of the phases thereof, and Mrs. Ward has this power to an eminent degree. In Helbeck of Bannisdale1are bigoted Protestants, bigoted Romanists, and bigoted Rationalists, yet there is no single line in the book, no single white space between the lines, that can be turned or twisted into a suggestion of partisanship. Mrs. Ward is not a pamphleteer. She is not writing tracts to prove certain conclusions. She considers only existing conditions, and her readers are left to draw their own conclusions. "Helbeck of Bannisdale" may have been designed as a brief, but if it is so the judge must decide for himself upon which side of a triangle the counsel stands.

One might properly describe "Helbeck of Bannisdale" as a reversion to the author's first and most notable period—that of "Robert Els mere." Of this, as of “Elsmere,” Mr. Gladstone's description of the latter is eminently adequate: "The strength of the book seems to lie in an extraordinary wealth of diction, never separated from thought; in a close and searching faculty of social observation; in generous appreciation of what is morally good, impartially exhibited in all directions."

It is, perhaps, not too rash a statement to make if one should say that Mrs. Ward is more convincing when she deals with the individual than when she attempts to take note of society

Helbeck of Bannisdale. By MRS. HUMPHRY WARD. 12mo, Cloth. Two Volumes. $2. New York and London: The Macmillan Company.

in its largest sense. The problems of the individual are more suited to her analytical mind than the problems of an aggregation of individuals, and one would prefer to accept as true her estimate of the fagot to an acceptation of her conclusions as to the bundle of fagots. In short, Mrs. Ward is a novelist and not a sociologist, and it is good that she is so. Her work, considered in the light of a note on life, has a distinct value. Were she to become a preacher she might share the fate of the late Edward Bellamy, who lived to see some of his most cherished ideals weighed in the balance and found wanting.

A word must be said in conclusion of Mrs. Ward's humor in "Helbeck of Bannisdale." There is a rich vein of it throughout. It crops up when it is least expected and at the most opportune of times, and in its application one is reminded of the words of a critic of one of her earlier volumes, who said that she possesses "that indefinable and irresistible charm which the best writers among women have, and the best writers among men never have— or almost never." It is the womanly touch here and there which keeps a sad, unhappy story from being morbid and depressing.

MR. ANTHONY HOPE has done what every one of his friends and admirers feared he would do, and he has done it as they hoped he might if so be he had to do it. He has written a sequel to "The Prisoner of Zenda," and he has done it well. To discuss the merits of this favored romance, or its demerits, would be a futile and an ungrateful task. One does not object to a whiff of fresh air in midsummer because it is only a whiff, nor does one object to a breeze which consoles because it is not "the hurricane of sixty-three" or "the blizzard of eighty-eight." One is more apt to be thankful for "favors received." "The Prisoner of Zenda” must not, therefore, be discussed from the point of view of "how Dumas might have done it," nor should one hazard an opinion of "what it might have been in Hugo's hands." It suffices to say that Dumas did not think of it, Hugo did not do it, but Anthony Hope thought of and did it, and he is entitled to our gratitude. "The Prisoner of Zenda" appeared at the right moment. The reading public was seeking health, and the reading public found it. There was romance and adventure in great plenty in "The Prisoner of Zenda." There was life, there was action, and it came on a sudden from a man who had never been heard of before, and its effect was the effect of an effective tonic. Men and women everywhere clamor for fresh air. They want it in their reading as well as in their lungs; and when they get it, they do not stop to ask if it comes from the sea, or from the mountains, or from the pines, or from an electric fan; if they get it they are thankful. And in "The Prisoner of Zenda" the reading public got it; and in a spirit of revolt against what one might call

miasmatic literature, the reading public fled to it in great numbers.

And then came the inevitable. Too many active agents in the success of the first book were left alive. Surely, even realism demanded more about them. Rudolf Rassendyll and Rupert of Hentzan, and Sapt, and Fritz von Tarlenheim were not likely to remain quiescent while the Princess Flavia lived. The most confirmed lover of the commonplace knew that something must happen if these people were allowed to linger, and so Mr. Hope had to write Rupert of Hentzau." He has done so, and he has shown a remarkable regard for his responsibility as a romancer. Queen Flavia is quite as beautiful as was Princess Flavia. There is no disloyalty in the present story to her. Rupert is the same admirable, dashing villain as in former days, but he properly dies. Sapt is unchanged. An unswervingly loyal subject, but too old to be killed wantonly, he is properly left by the author to die of old age, which he will surely do in time to prevent a sequel to the sequel. Fritz von Tarlenheim shows himself so lacking in truly heroic qualities in the present book, that he can never be the hero of another; and as for Rudolf Rassendyll, after nearly four hundred pages of heroic devotion, he is murdered for no reason at all save possibly that the author grew somewhat tired of a hero so superlatively perfect. Mr. Hope was not compelled by his art to have him murdered. Even an appreciation of the necessities of realism did not demand it, but with Rupert of Hentzau and Rudolf Rassendyll dead, a sequel to the sequel becomes impossible. The spontaneity of "The Prisoner of Zenda" is lacking in "Rupert of Hentzau," but one must admit an advance in art in the author. The mere fact that in the present romance he kills off every strong character he has created save one, who must die of old age, and one who, without a lover, is impotent for a literary tour de force, shows that Mr. Hope has the right idea in mind.

Nevertheless, "Rupert of Hentzau" is a good tale, and will be read by the admirers of Zenda with relish, and the author's friends will congratulate him upon having so successfully slaughtered so many characters that might ultimately have lead him into the indiscretion of writing a third volume on the same subject.

American rhymer is doing once more, and not badly, what Tennyson did passably well in the past, these critical persons pretend to despair of the times, forgetting that one of the best indications of the existence of intellectual activity, not to say courage, to-day is the fact that we have writers who are not afraid to do again what has been done before. To do again what has been done before, if one does ill, has at least the advantage of precedent. To do well what has been done before involves a contrast in which one or the other author must suffer. To do rather better than it has been done before some deed of the past, requires genius.

It is hard to say to which of the last two Mr. Guy Wetmore Carryl belongs in his Fables for the Frivolous. To say that he is superior to Esop in his conceptions would be foolish, because Esop supplies him with these. To say that he will supplant La Fontaine would be rash, because La Fontaine is already the accepted fabulist of all our public libraries; but to say that he has reproduced the ancient fables, in a guise which makes them peculiarly his own, requires no more courage or conviction than we have at this writing. Mr. Carryl has not been unfaithful to his inspiration, whether he has derived it from Æsop or from La Fontaine. The fables, as he tells them, have much of their original force, and they are adorned by modern morals. A fable which has influenced a mediæval people is of no especial use to those who are of to-day, and it has been Mr. Carryl's purpose to bring his or Esop's or La Fontaine's fables up to date.

The main difficulty with "Fables for the Frivolous" is that they challenge too many people of the past. Mr. Carryl throws down his gauntlet to a large number of worthies. He contends not alone with Esop and with La Fontaine, but his work evinces a desire to crack a lance with the lamented Edward Lear, beloved of the nursery and the library alike, and with W. S. Gilbert as well, whose "Bab Ballads" and comic operas have made him popular with thousands who do not know him personally. Yet Mr. Carryl does not come out of the tourney badly. His nonsense is in many instances worthy of Lear, and it cannot be doubted that if he ever sees them, Mr. Gilbert will envy him his tripping measures and his miraculous rhymes.

As for Esop and La Fontaine, one can only regret that these talented gentlemen could not have lived long enough to see the modern point of view. They would both have appreciated it as it is presented in Mr. Carryl's work. Furthermore, they would have appreciated Mr. Newell's pictures, of which it need only be said that they are characteristic of the man who made them.

6 Fables for the Frivolous. (With Apologies to La Fontaine.) By GUY WETMORE CARRYL. Illustrated by PETER NEWELL. 8vo, Cloth, Deckel Edges and Gilt Top, $1 50. New York and London: Harper and Brothers.

T is rarely indeed that the appearance of a

I school book can be regarded as a literary or

even a scientific event; but here is one which has a claim to notice in both aspects. The language of every great literature has been studied by the last three generations of scholars with a zeal and minuteness unknown to earlier ages; and the historical importance of Latin, its indomitable life persisting in many modern forms, and the rigid accidence and syntax of its classic period have made its grammar a sort of standard for all, and have attracted a vast amount of learning and industry to its exposition. Perhaps no branch of traditional schooling has seemed to be more nearly finished in its instruction-books and methods than this. But let him who is most familiar with the Latin grammars in common use, and who best appreciates their excellence, compare them with the posthumous work which embodies the life-long labors of Professor Lane, and he will be surprised to find how much remained to be done, and what improvements in the digesting and presentation of this body of knowledge the untiring industry of one original and richly furnished mind has accomplished.

In a modest preface, Professor Morris H. Morgan, of Harvard University, to whom Dr. Lane bequeathed the duty and privilege of editing his nearly finished book, explains exactly what his own contributions have been, and those of other pupils of the dead master. They are important and valuable, all the more that they exhibit the most painstaking and faithful effort to make the work precisely what the author planned. The editor has striven to remove every defect which could suggest the want of a last touch from the hand that had so nearly perfected the whole, but has introduced no new personal note, no sentence that is not conceived and expressed in the spirit of the context. It is a touching tribute to the great scholar who has passed away that his name alone appears upon the title-page; and while acknowledging gratefully the pious service to his fame and to the cause of learning which the editor and his helpers have so well rendered, we may accept the completed work as the author's own achievement. Hundreds-his pupils and friends-will thus welcome it as his worthy monument, while a new and countless generation of students will profit through it by his remarkable powers as a teacher.

The most impressive characteristic of this Grammar is the elaboration of every part. I do not know a school-book in any language which gives evidence of so much labor and thought. Most of it has been kept for many years in manuscript, subject to revision, often

A Latin Grammar for Schools and Colleges. By GEORGE M. LANE, M.D., LL.D., Professor Emeritus of Latin in Harvard University. Crown 8vo, Cloth, $1 50. New York and London: Harper and Brothers.

to repeated reconstruction; has then been privately printed, minutely criticised in consultation with other scholars and practical teachers, and again rewritten. Indeed, more than half the book has undergone this process three times. The result is a degree of finish in form and of accuracy in detail not easy to parallel. A vast amount of intelligent effort has been given of late years to the making of instruction-books ir every branch of learning, but the product, as whole, leaves much to be desired. Had the minds engaged in it worked together on a systematic plan, most of the defects now complained of might have been eliminated. But such a combination is not only impracticable with a free press, but is undesirable, since it would sacrifice individuality and originality in authorship. Yet it remains true that where writers of eminent competence have undertaken to write introductions to scientific and literary studies they have commonly turned out job- work, with more or less of a commercial aim, or else have given undue prominence, each to his own special inquiry, discovery, or thought, to the injury of the whole as a comprehensive working book. That an acknowledged master in scholarship should devote half of a long life to the perfection of such an instrument of education is a service to the cause of learning for which there are few precedents.

A minute examination of the book brings to light in every page new proofs of its excellence. The combination of condensation with clearness in its formal expression of principles will delight every critical mind. No law of the language is neglected, no exception forgotten; ample and apt illustrations are given, each bearing its own instructive lesson; yet the whole is brought within a smaller compass than many another grammar which attempts no such completeness. The brief passages by which every rule and usage is illustrated are selected from a wide range of reading, from the entire body, indeed, of classical Latin literature, and given precisely as they stand on the pages of the authors. This conscientious accuracy of citation deserves especial notice, since most other grammarians have neglected it. The English versions annexed to all these passages are a characteristic feature, showing as they do why Professor Lane was regarded as the most perfect of translators, the tact, point, and grace with which he selects the exact equivalent of his text, in its appeal to the reader's mind, being unsurpassed. Students who have mastered all the intricacies of the syntax, aud are as familiar with Latin as with their mother-tongue, will still find instruction and entertainment in this storehouse of happy translations.

The quantity of Latin vowels in pronunciation, as distinguished from the metrical quantity of syllables, has attracted much attention