heard from him. Now, however, my anxiety is relieved by _My Devon
Year_ (SCOTT), a delightful book which could have come from no other
pen than his. It is a marvel how many fragrant things he still finds
to say, and with what inexhaustible freshness, about his beloved
county. I hesitate to give these sketches an indiscriminate
recommendation, because to those who walk through the country with
closed eyes they will have little or no meaning; but if you are in
love with beauty and can appreciate its translation into exquisite
language you will draw from them a real and lasting joy. Let me
confess now that I once asked Mr. PHILLPOTTS to give Devonshire a
rest, and that I accept _My Devon Year_ as a convincing proof that
this request was ill-considered.

* * * * *

I wish Mr. DOUGLAS SLADEN would not throw so many bouquets at
his characters. _Roger Wynyard_, the hero of _Grace Lorraine_
(HUTCHINSON), was really just a very ordinary youth, but when I
discovered that he was "the fine flower of our Public-School system,"
"as chivalrous as a Bayard," and so forth, I began--unfairly, perhaps,
but quite irresistibly--to entertain a considerable prejudice against
him. Let me hasten, however, to add that Mr. SLADEN has packed his
novel with the kind of incident which appeals to the popular mind,
though his conclusion may cause a shock to those who think that our
divorce-laws are in need of reform. In the matter of style Mr. SLADEN
is content with something short of perfection. "It was easier for her
to forgive a man, with his happy-go-lucky nature, for getting
into trouble, than to forgive his getting out again by not being
sufficiently careful not to add to the other person's misfortune."
For myself, I do not find it so easy to forgive these happy-go-lucky