the first admirably adapted to the comprehension of the readers to
whom it is addressed, only the girls, he says, should be _very_ young
girls. _My Schoolfellows_ he intends reading again when he has reached
his second childhood, when he fancies he will be better pleased with
the humours of "_Guzzling Gus_" and "_Ned Never Mind_." In conclusion,
he admits that he is a little doubtful about the merits or demerits of
_Bonnie Boy's Soap Bubble_. He explains, that while he was reading it
he "fell a thinking," and that when he woke up, the volume was lying
on the floor. Since then, he adds, he really has not had the leisure
to pick it up.

_The Snake's Pass_, by BRAM STOKER, M.A. (SAMPSON LOW), is a simple
love-story, a pure idyl of Ireland, which does not seem, after all, to
be so distressful a country to live in. Whiskey punch flows like milk
through the land; the loveliest girls abound, and seem instinctively
to be drawn towards the right man. Also there are jooled crowns to be
found by earnest seekers, with at least one large packing-case crammed
with rare coins. The love-scenes are frequent and tempting. BRAM has
an eye to scenery, and can describe it. He knows the Irish peasant,
and reproduces his talk with a fidelity which almost suggests that he,
too, is descended from one of the early kings, whereas, as everyone
knows, he lives in London and adds grace and dignity to "the front" of
the Lyceum on First Nights and others. He is perfectly overwhelming
in his erudition in respect of the science of drainage, which, if all
stories be true, he might find opportunity of turning to account in
the every-day (or, rather, every-night) world of the theatre. In his
novel he utilises it in the preliminaries of shifting a mighty bog,
the last stages whereof are described in a chapter that, for sustained
interest, recalls CHARLES READE's account of the breaking of the
Sheffield Reservoir. The novel-reader will do well not to pass by _The