David March. By J. S. Fletcher. (Methuen and Co. Os.)—
Mr. Fletcher is so charmed with his book that it is quite a pleasure to read his opening paragraph. "This," he informs the sym- pathetic reader, "is one of those stories which all women and a
good many men are fond of a story that makes middle- aged people feel young again a story, in short, wherein
life is lifted out of the commonplace into the romantic and made to assume colours and shapes of an appetising nature." It is delightful to find an author believing so thoroughly in his own creations. After this preamble, if the reader is just a little dis- appointed in the book, it is, of course, the fault of his having expected too much. If David March were the first historical novel ever written, it would certainly be very remarkable. But another hand has drawn for us the days of Charles IL of gallant memory, and has painted in more vivid colours than those at Mr. Fletcher's command the picture of the iniquitous Judge who travestied English justice in those days. To those to whom these earlier portraits are familiar Mr. Fletcher's work will look a little pale and thin ; but people who do not read Scott will find this book interesting enough.
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