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For the moment I failed to grasp wife couldn't help indulging in a little her meaning. She explained. I've Christmas fun. She's just whispered made six dozen. The knife was all to me that she's put a surprise in one right when I started; a little bent, of the cakes. I know her. It won't nothing more. It was when I was be an ordinary sort of surprise. I mixing the last that I noticed the tip should advise you all to keep a sharp was missing."

lookout. There's a pound” (it was It was a difficult position. There worth a pound to save a hero's throat was no time to submit the cakes to from being cut) "for the man who finds the X-rays; the advance party was anything in his cake which hasn't any streaming through the gate.

business to be there." Dear fellows! I wonder which Within five minutes two pebbles, a one it will be,” said Emily, and clung tin-tack, a chunk of wood and a round my neck.

black-beetle were on the tablecloth. I put her on one side.

“I'll manage

Do you know that flutter's cost it; leave it to me," I said, and went me five pounds, and there wasn't a forward and welcomed our guests. sign of your infernal knife after My mind was working clearly and all?" I said to Emily when they'd rapidly, as it always does in a crisis. gone. When I had got them seated round the "I've just found it under the tea-table, "My dear friends," I said, kitchen table,” said Emily.

I am "this isn't a Christmas party, but my thankful."



Few of the season's novels have been "guides” would be too strong a word, waited for with such interest as Ernest the unconscious shaping and developPoole's. "His Family" promises to be ment by modern conditions of his as successful as "The Harbor," though three daughters: Edith, absorbed in perhaps with a slightly different public. her children almost at the expense of Sociological problems are decidedly her husband; Deborah, devoted to less prominent, though the author is work among tenement-house children still keenly alive to them.

The plot

and divided between their claims and moves within a more contracted circle, that of a long-time lover; and Laura, both of incidents and individuals, and gay, frivolous and fascinating, with a readers whose chief enjoyment of disquieting likeness to her father in the “'The Harbor" was in its striking far-away and brief period of his reckepisodes may find this tame by com- less youth. The story opens with parison. But the character drawing Laura's abrupt announcement to her is more intimate, and there is a gain father of her engagement, and the both in reality and concentrated im- greater part of it is occupied with pression. Oddly enough, there is at marriage and its effect on the modern times a suggestion of Mr. W. L. woman's ideals and opportunities, as George, though the temper and pur- noted by a shrewd and affectionate pose of the two men are so unlike. In observer. “God knows I've tried to be "His Family,” Mr. Poole describes modern,” says Roger Gale to Deborah, the experiences of a New York business his dearest daughter. “Downright man of the older type, as he watches- modern. Have I asked you to give up

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your career?. Not at all. I've asked reader to class it as a "problem novel.” you to marry Baird, and go right on But the writer undoubtedly means it with him in your work. And if you as a contribution to the solving of one can't marry Allan Baird, after what of the most vexed of modern questions, he has done for you, how in God's and her solution is a thoroughly name can you modern women ever conservative one. Dodd, Mead & Co. marry anyone?” The Macmillan Co.

The plot of Mrs. Edith Wharton's Still another member of the Kingsley "Summer" is based on the one figure family takes up the novelist's pen. in literary geometry which is simpler “Bindweed,” which Gabrielle Vallings, than the triangle,—the inclined plane. a grand-niece of Charles Kingsley, Charity Royall, ignorant, stubborn, dedicates to her cousin Lucas Malet passionate, sits at the top in one of is a book far above the level of every- those pathetic New England villages day fiction and well worth reading. which are little more than pools of Its principal characters are

on the

stagnant life left behind by a receding operatic stage, in Paris or London, but tide. She has always held aloof from in effective contrast in the background the stolidity about her, and when is a group of simple farmers, preserving Lucius Harney suddenly appears at many of the peasant traditions. Eu- the bottom, wrapped in the splendor génie Massini the heroine, is a young of the city, she slides quickly and gladly dressmaker, living in an out-of-the- into his arms. For a few months she way corner of Paris, ignorant that she is gloriously and unrepentantly happy. is of illegitimate birth and noble Then fear and shame come, and she Italian blood, and brought up with the is glad to take refuge in a marriage utmost strictness by a hard-working with a moody and taciturn old lawyer aunt of Breton stock, who guards who has been her guardian since her with passionate bitterness against childhood. She seems to recognize such disaster as wrecked her mother's that her blossoming-time is over, and life. Her beautiful voice attracts the is content to wither slowly for the rest attention at once of an experienced of her life. “Summer" is perhaps a and kindly woman who trains singers shade more perfunctory than Mrs. · for the stage, and of a young tenor Wharton's other work, too much who has a fancy for masquerading as a preoccupied with the outer trappings strolling musician, and the two in- of life, yet it reveals the same cool, sure fluences-sometimes in accord and touch, the mastery of picture and sometimes at cross purposes-shape incident, and her peculiar knack of her career.

In Eugénie, the novelist giving quick glimpses of the very has drawn with rare skill and delicacy depths of a soul. The scene of the a young girl, convent-taught, austerely burial on the Mountain, built of the fine and sweet, and yet natural and splendid solemnity of the service and winning. Of a totally different type the squalid profanity of the snarling is Wanda Panowska, the unscrupulous knot of gipsies, is as memorable a coquette whose temperament gives chapter as she has ever written. It the book its title, to whose “Tosca" would seem a greater book if "Tess" Gascon Hippolyte plays “Mario” and and “Anna Karenina" had not prewho nearly ruins his life. The story ceded it. Mrs. Wharton is, after all, fills nearly four hundred closely-printed an etcher rather than a worker in oils, pages, and is of such absorbing in- and a Meryon rather than a Whistler terest that it will scarcely occur to the or a Rembrandt. D. Appleton & Co.

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Entered as Second Class Mail Matter at Boston, Mass. NOTICE TO READER When you finish readingeadfiibnoeadine, place a one-cent stanent tris

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Vol. VII

No. 3819 September 15, 1917



CONTENTS 1. The Coming Revolution. By A. Shadwell

II. Sir Herbert Tree and the English Stage.

An Open Letter to an American Friend.
By W. L. Courtney

III. Christina's Son. Book III. Chapters II

and III. By W. M. Letts. (To be

IV. England and Italy. By Mrs. Humphry

CONTEMPORARY REVIEW 677 V. What the Newspaper Owes to the Magazine. By T. H. S. Escott

LONDON QUARTERLY REVIEW 680 VI. Mohammed's Coffin. Chapter II. By Sir

George Douglas. (To be continued) CHAMBERS's JOURNAL 685 VII. On the Wings of the Morning. By J. D. CORNHILL MAGAZINE 690 VIII. A Parable of the War

TIMES 691 IX. The New Money Training

SPECTATOR 694 X. Conscientious Objectors

SATURDAY REVIEW 696 XI. Jimmy-Killed in Action

XII. Encouraging Anglo-American Friendship New STATESMAN 700
XIII. America's Financial Effort

XIV. “Fingal's Weeping." By Neil Munro Blackwood's MAGAZINE 642
XV. My Thoughts. By Violet D. Chapman

642 XVI. The Anxious Dead. By John McCrae



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