his bachelor existence was invaded by some up-to-date people who took
the Hall, and proceeded to liven up things. _Mrs. Chadwick_ freely
shocked the poor man; she smoked, was a reckless conversationalist and
had modern ideas, all which disturbed the decorous manner of his life.
Moreover, she had taken upon herself the heavy task of finding him
a wife, and _John's_ phlegmatic heart began to flutter when he saw
_Peggy_, her lady-gardener and niece, standing on a ladder, in blue
trousers. He was incensed by such apparel, but he was also intrigued.
From that moment his number, as they say, was up. Apart from a
dog-incident, which is far too prolonged, and some rather cheap
sarcasm at the expense of a wretched spinster, this tale of _John's_
conversion from something drier than dust to a human being is neatly
told. All the same I prefer Miss YOUNG'S South African stories.

* * * * *

My conjecture about _The Magic Gate_ (HUTCHINSON) is that its author,
MAUD STEPNEY RAWSON, found herself with two stories to choose from,
one of the Gate itself, and another of the romance of _Lydia_ and
_John Wodrush_. In my opinion she chose the wrong one. The history of
the _Wodrush_ elopement, compressed to a couple of pages, seems to me
far more original and interesting than the present rather unwieldy
tale. _The Magic Gate_ is a war-novel confessed, and I can only fancy
that the thronging new sensations of the past three years have proved
a little too much for Mrs. RAWSON'S sense of form. She is so anxious
that her heroine and her readers shall miss nothing of it all that in
the result the plot is lost in a maze of incidents that lead nowhere.
The effect produced on a small country society by the early phases
of the War is shown deftly enough. But perhaps posterity will find
in such a record a more compelling interest than we can to whom it