give at the well-furnished table of an apt and ardent pupil. Once
more "_Your_ health, Sir HENRY!" that's the Baron's toast (bread not
permitted) in honour of the eminent practician who does so much for
the health of everybody.

That a considerable number of novel-readers like _Saint Monica_, by
Mrs. BENNETT-EDWARDS, is evident, because it has reached its sixth
edition, but that the Baron is not one of this happy number he is fain
to admit. _Saint Monica_ seems to him to be a story with which the
author of _As in a Looking-Glass_ might have done something in his
peculiar way. It begins with promise, which promise is not justified
by performance.

[Illustration]

Who does not welcome the works of HAWLEY SMART, the brightest of our
novelists? This is not a conundrum, and, consequently, has no answer.
Everybody likes the books of our literary Major, and everybody will
be pleased with _The Plunger_. The new Story is in two volumes, and is
full of incident. There is a murder, which carries one through, from
the first page to the last, in a state of breathless excitement. Not
that the tale commences with the tragedy. But its anticipation is as
delightful as its subsequent realisation; and, when the mystery is
solved, joy becomes universal. The story is told with so light a hand,
that it may be truly said that the only "heavy" thing about the book
is its title.

_The Autobiography of Joseph Jefferson_ is a good stout volume, full
of portraits and interest from beginning to end, forming an important
addition to the theatrical history of the day. The Baron drinks to his