Nevermore. By "Rolf Boldrewood." (Macmillan and Co.)—The author of "Robbery
under Arms" is as interesting and attractive as ever in describing the gold-rush and Ballarat in the "fifties." His first chapter is laid in the Old Country ; but we miss the freshness of digger-life, and do not recognise the practised hand till we land on Australian soil. The story, good as it is, seems tO us written from a more distant standpoint than is usual with "Rolf Boldrewood," that is, we move in a somewhat higher circle than that of the mining-camps. A departure from the stirring struggle for life is immediately followed by a loss of interest in the narrative, and parts of Nevermore show only too plainly that the writer's forte is the life of the sheep-runs, the bush, the diggings,—everything but the life of towns. There are half-a- dozen lifelike characters in Nevermore, all fresh and original, and scenes as vigorous and picturesque as ever. We notice, indeed, that more attention is paid to scenery, and a tendency to paint, rather than draw, reveals itself; and less of life flows through the pages than we look for from this vigorous writer. As to the plot, it is a striking ono, and leads to some extremely dramatic scenes. The finale, in one respect, is grievously disappointing,— that is, to the reader who likes all to end well. So violent a wrench is it to the feelings, that we very much doubt its excel- lence from an artistic point of view. Nevermore is a striking tragedy, however ; one that teaches a wholesome moral to the wilful and obstinate, and exemplifies how sternly the world exemplifies the saying, " Evil communications corrupt good manners," against even the most incorrupt.
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