department), "Micah Clarke," by Mr. Conan Doyle. It was as
inevitable that the two books should be compared as that he who
enjoyed the one should enjoy the other. In one respect "Micah
Clarke" is the better story. It contains one character, a soldier of
fortune, who is more memorable than any single figure in "The
Splendid Spur." This, however, is effected at a cost, for this man
is the book. It contains, indeed, two young fellows, one of them a
John Ridd, but no Diana Vernon would blow a kiss to either. Both
stories are weak in pathos, despite Joan, but there are a score of
humorous situations in "The Splendid Spur" that one could not forget
if he would--which he would not--as, for instance, where hero and
heroine are hidden in barrels in a ship, and hero cries through his
bunghole, "Wilt marry me, sweetheart?" to which heroine replies,
"Must get out of this cask first." Better still is the scene in
which Captain Billy expatiates, with a mop and a bucket, on the
merits of his crew. But the passages are for reading, not for
hearing about. Of the characters, this same Captain Billy is not the
worst, but perhaps the best is Joan, Mr. Quiller-Couch's first
successful picture of a girl. A capital eccentric figure is killed
(some good things are squandered in this book) just when we are
beginning to find him a genuine novelty. Anything that is ready to
leap into danger seems to be thought good enough for the hero of a
fighting romance, so that Jack Marvel will pass (though Delia, as is
right and proper, is worth two of him, despite her coming-on
disposition). The villain is a failure, and the plot poor.
Nevertheless there are some ingenious complications in it. Jack's
escape by means of the hangman's rope, which was to send him out of
the world in a few hours, is a fine rollicking bit of sensation.
Where Mr. Quiller-Couch and Mr. Conan Doyle both fail as compared
with the great master of romance is in the introduction of