NOVELS OF THE WEEK.* ALTRouGH we have much more sympathy
with the heroine's than the author's theories of matrimony, yet "Male Muriel
` (L) Love and his Mask. By Heide Muriel Vowie. London : W. Heinemann. [ea.]—(2.) The Ply Wheel.. By George Wemyss. London : J. Naogneen. [6s.] j) The Little Tin Gods. By Jessie E. Livesay. London : Hurst and. tt. [es.]-1,41..) John Topp, Pirate. By Weatherby Chesney. London : Methuen and Co. es.]—(5.) Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks, By Charles Felton Pidgin. London : T. Fisher Unwin. 6,Es.]—(13.) The Ending DI IV Bay. By " Bits-- London : T. Fisher Unwin. Es. 6d.]—(7.) Nobler than Revenge, By Esme Stuart. London : John Long. 68.3—(8.) No Vindi- ,,Ca!". By Hrs. Coulson Kernahan. London : John Long. 1611.]—(94 Tha °`"Y of Sarah. By hi. Louise Forsslund (H. Louise Foster). New York : Brentano's. [611.] Dowie's " new novel, Love and his Mask, is decidedly interesting reading. The two heroes, respectively a reticent Brigadier-General and a cheerful Sergeant of Imperial Yeomanry, are both well drawn, and "Toby," the hero en titre, the man, that is, who finally marries the heroine, is really an attractive figure. To begin with, the story of his birth, as related by the author, is little short of miraculous. For " Toby's " father, Lord Bracebridge, had not married till thirty-four years had elapsed from the time when he first loved his wife. During the interval she had been the child- less wife of some one else, and soon after the birth of this her first child she died. As by the lowest calculation the lady must have been fifty-two or fifty-three, her death under these circum- stances is perhaps not astonishing. Lord Bra cebridge (at the time of the story ninety-three years of age) is, in spite of the peculiarity of his mutterings to himself, both a pathetic and a dignified figure, as he sends his only son to the war, and indeed the whole picture of the father and son is charmingly drawn. It is difficult to care very much about the heroine and her intro- spections, yet were " Toby " not really a better fellow than her intellectual affinity, the Brigadier, we could be very sorry for her, forced as she is by the author into a marriage the motive for which, according to Miss Dowie, is, and should be, pure passion. This theory is in fact the keynote of the whole book,—passion, and passion only, preaches the author, is the only lasting and satisfactory basis for marriage, and neither intellectual sympathy nor congenial tastes matter in the least. The heroine, very wisely, does not agree, and if the reader is happy in leaving her engaged to her "Toby," it is only because he is convinced that " Toby " has many more qualities of character and heart than the rival hero, the General. The author takes us unobtrusively to the front in the course of the book, and these chapters, though modestly kept in the background, are not the least interesting. The descriptions of society, both in town and in smart country houses, are not, however, particularly good or lifelike, but as a whole the story provides a great deal of amusing reading and one or two delicate sketches of character.
There are very few people who have not at one time or another cherished as their favourite "blue rose" the idea that some day they will open a letter or receive a visit from a respectable solicitor, which same visit or letter will inform them that they are really the long-lost heirs to some delightful property. Mr. Wemyss bestows this exhilarating experience on the heroine of his story, The Fly Wheel, in the very first chapter of the book. The young lady in question, Miss Hat, Acheson, is brightly and freshly drawn, although perhaps of a rather conventional type. Still, we can forgive her a good deal in acknowledgment of the amusing nature of her first adventure,—for it may be justly counted an adventure to succeed to the possession of a great estate with great revenues. The novel would be quite as interesting and a great deal more agreeable to read if the sub-plot concerning Lady Freda Trefusis and her matrimonial difficulties were left out. It has very little indeed to do with the story proper, and cannot even plead the dreary old excuse of "art for art's sake," as it is not particularly well done. The little complication of the .true lover believing for a short time that Hetty is engaged to the tertium quid could have been managed by some other means. But perhaps, considering the space devoted in the book to this sub-plot, to wish it away is rather, as Mrs. Poyser would say, to wish the story "hatched again, and hatched different."
In spite of its cheerful title, The Little Tin Gods, by Jessie Livesay, is a remarkably dismal work of fiction. It concerns the fortunes of an unfortunate young man named Wolfe Carr, who falls in love with a married adventuress masquerading as a spinster. This role she sustains in the Carr family mansion, to which the infatuated youth has induced his mother to invite her during the absence of her supposed brother, but actual husband, in South Africa. The end of this escapade can of course only be disaster, as Judith, the lady in question, who has really only come for a home and shelter, falls in love with Wolfe Carr. They resolve to part. Then the young lady whom fate had originally designed as a suitable wife for Carr dies of typhoid, and. there is an end of the book. It must be acknowledged to be a work only suitable for people in robust health starting off on the most cheerful holiday possible.
No one who takes up a volume called John Topp, Pirate, will expect anything but blood-curdling adventures pursued on blue water. And this is exactly what Mr. Chesney gives him. But after the reader has read the first seven oi eight pages of the book he will have a decided shock of surprise in discovering that the story is supposed to take place in the "spacious days of great Elizabeth." The book is most frankly modern in style, and the descriptions of ships and weapons sound like anachronisms. However, it would be impossible to sail upon the Spanish Main, have hairbreadth 'seapes, and end as a respectable pirate nowadays, so we must overlook the date and enjoy the abounding adventures. That delightfully convenient institution, the Inquisition, furnishes several, and altogether the book may be confidently laid in by parents for present use. For in most households this is the joyful week in which a heavily laden cab will draw up to the front door some morning, suggesting a start having been made about dawn. The passengers by this matutinal vehicle will subsequently demand and consume large quanti- ties of that particular style of literature of which John Topp, Pirate, is a favourable example.
Good wine needs no bush, and a good novel is not made more acceptable to a reviewer by bearing a publisher's "puff" on its reading-cover. The adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer among the people of Mason's Corner are certainly entertaining in a quietly humorous and realistic fashion ; and perhaps if the style had not been declared on the wrapper to be fresh, bright, animated, and captivating we might have been tempted to apply some of these adjectivea to it in our notice. Mr. Sawyer is certainly a very agreeable companion, and we like him particularly as he is represented in the solitary illustration the book boasts, entering Mason's Corner in his neat buggy. He is the son of a wealthy man of Boston, and he brings the air of the best society with him to the New England village. Somehow he reminds us of Sir Charles Grandison,—but this not through any special stateliness of deportment, but by the manner in which he enters with perfect tact and kindness into everybody's affairs. Wherever he goes he sets things right,—an old man, who has been living alone and growing cynical, be restores to the society of an affectionate nephew and niece; he finds an uncle of his own in the workhouse, and consoles him on his deathbed; he gives a wholesome lesson to a vulgar young woman who is setting her cap at him ; and, best of all, he takes up the literary efforts of a charming blind girl, in whose home he is a boarder, and pushes them all to success. More- over, he finds the doctor who can cure the girl's blindness, and finally he marries her. The tone of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason's Corner Folks is essentially American,—friendly, honest, smart, and clean, keeping aloof from the great passions and the great d Tths, but with a firm touch for the humours of life.
The Ending of My Day is the kind of novel that compresses, or expands, the whole woman question into an autobiographical narrative. It begins, as all these books do, with the motherless infancy of a misunderstood child, and goes on—through school- days, reduced circumstances, and governessing—to marriage and disillusionment, with a great many more lovers and exciting experiences by the way than we fancy fall to the share of most hardly used women in real life. One always supposes that this sort of book has "a purpose." But it really is not easy to say what the purposa of this one is. On the author's showing, it was Belle, not Jack, who was to blame for the collapse of their married life. Yet the tone suggests indignation against husbands rather than wives, and the heroine appears more as a martyr than a sinner at the end. This inconsequence is possibly due to the Irish element traceable in the style and the construction, and to the same cause we may attribute the vivacity which is the redeeming quality of the book.
The sensational plot and the religious moral of Nobler than Revenge do not seem to belong to one another. Yewdale Hall has fallen—no matter how—into the hands of adventurers and swindlers of the most out-and-out type of melodramatic wickedness. One of these personates the dead owner of the place, living on the estate in strict privacy, and calling himself
Sir Harry Beauworth. With him lives a charming girl, Ruby, who passes as his daughter and believes herself to be so. The plan is that when Ruby is of marriageable years she shall be handed over with the estate to the other bad men,—the
Feltons, father and son.. The nominal Sir Harry is entirely in the power of these Feltona, and it is "in the bond" that Ruby shall marry the son. Tragedy eonaes in ;at the point where "Sir Harry" realises that he loves the child of his adoption and that it goes against him to sell her to a villain. The real heir, fraudulently decoyed to Yewdale at the critical moment, is a very good fellow and an attractive person, with whom Ruby promptly falls in love. But Alec Beauworth has been brought on the scene to be put out of the way, not to be married. Dastardly attempts are made upon his life, and finally he is snared through a trap-door into a cellar, where he would have died of starvation but for the cleverness and devotion of a heroic boy. The plot is intricate and thrilling, and it would all be very interesting if only one could bring oneself to believe in it.
In No Vindication there is a provoking mixture of pretty and of vulgar elements. The relation of Mary Penrhyn to her adopted boy is charming ; the boy himself is well done and excellent. Tom Adams, the artist, is a wholesome and re- freshing person one is glad to make acquaintance with ; and Mrs. Graham and her daughters are interesting. But the episode of Captain Graham and Minnie is an intolerable piece of realism. The incident was, of course, not to be dispensed with, unless the whole construction of the plot was to be changed. But it should have been handled more sketchily, with less insistence upon vulgar and non-significant details.
The scene of The Story of Sarah is in Long Island; the characters are homely, primitive, and provincial ; and the telling is powerful and impassioned. The book is, indeed, a study of passion as it may be felt by a good woman for a bad man, and struggled against and overcome. Sarah's character is original and poignant. She prays all through her girlhood that she may not hate her father, who is a bully and a drunkard, and has planned for mercenary reasons that she shall marry a man of his own sort. Devine Strong, known as the Pirate King, is the lady-killer of the island. His fascina- tion is irresistible. Sarah hates him with her better self; and is his slave on the lower side of her nature. In contrast with Devine is Ben Benstra, the Dutch boy, who loves Sarah reverently, and wins her in the end. Other characters of interest are the "Reverend Dan," the warm-hearted and very militant rector, who on one occasion threatens Devine ; the kindly Justice of the Peace and his model wife. Altogether, there is plenty of good matter in the book, besides an intricate plot and many picturesque scenes.
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