The Art of Love. By Sir Herbert Maxwell. (David Douglas,
Edinburgh.)—We cannot call The Art of Love as good as " Sir Lucian Elphin, of Castle Weary," but it is cleverly written, and the descriptions of Scotch life are both true and amusing. The story is realistic, and the leading motive is not a pleasant one; but it is carefully treated, and not one that we can complain of. The confusion of the two sons, one lawful, one illegitimate, is a common enough plot, and for this reason doubtless the writer makes but little capital out of the deception, except in the discovery. Neither Kate Gilmour nor the man who betrays her are pleasant people. It is rather surprising to us that Kenneth Carlyle is made so cold-blooded a man. The revenge which Kate takes on him in concealing his heir, owing to his lack of natural affection, loses its effectiveness, though it throws the treachery to Livingstone into deeper relief. The Art of Love does not possess the attractiveness of the author's " Sir Lucian Elphin ;" it seems to lack a great deal of the tenderness and some of the insight into human nature that we were led to expect in his work.
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