From the Green Bag. By F. M. Allen. (Ward and
Downey.)— The anticipation of pleasure with which one resumes acquaintance with Dan Banim, of the " Green Glasses," is amply justified by these delightful stories. Unless the reader be young enough and strong enough to laugh until he aches without being the worse for that indulgence, he had better resort to Mr. Weller's plan, and try "to come a quiet laugh" over them, not letting his enjoyment escape in sound. "Dan's Pilgrimage," being the record of how Father McCarthy regarded the literary exploits of his penitent generally, and " From Portland to Paradise " in particular, what penance he put upon the offender and Dan's method of performing the same, is supremely humorous ; it is, besides, a highly ingenious method of setting at rest any doubts of Mr. Allen's own orthodoxy which may have been suggested to the too matter-of-fact among the admirers of " Through Green Glasses." The same serious plausibility, circumstantial frankness, impossible combinations and incongruities, the same indescribable drollery and perfect idiom, the same covert satire and cheerful philosophy which mark "The Voyage of the Ark," revealing themselves in Mr. Dan Banim's by-observations and comments upon his own narratives, abound in these shorter tales. Anachronisms are usually laboured out of real humorous- ness ; but Dan's come so nat•rally, with all their stupendous daring, the gravity and the ease with which they are uttered are so finely combined, that their drollery is irresistible. The slightest consciousness on Dan's part, the least suspicion of a smirk about him, would injure the effect ; but there is nothing of the kind. The entire simplicity with which he relates how Bonypart and Ulysays combined to get the better of King Prime, and how Amens vacated Throy, " wud Anchovy on his back," a sight that moved even my to tears, is only to be equalled by the narrator's absolute conviction. This is his account of the meeting between Bony and Uly, after all the live Trojans have gone past :—" In another moment he saw the figure of Bony on his white horse passin' in through the gates. Bony, my darlin' man !' he shouted at the top of his voice, rushin' out from his hidin'-place an' grippin' the bridle of his masther's charger. Begor, for the minute Bony didn't recognise his General, an' he was very near puttin' a charge of shot into him. Only that Uly had the presence of mind to sthrike a match on the leg of his throusers, 'tis like enough there 'ud be a tombstone over him now in some Throjan churchyard."
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