The most interesting of the " Leaves " which make
up this entirely sincere autobiography, Leaves from My Life, by Sir
Herbert Barker (Hutchinson and Co., 21s.), reproduces the portrait of the author by Mr. Augustus John—intending readers should turn to it (page 266) before they begin the book. The face is the face of a man with a gift, the book is the book of a man with a grievance. Sir Herbert Barker tells graphically and simply the details of his struggle to get recognition as a manipulative surgeon from the faculty and the world. He succeeded after a long time of discouragement, made a fortune, was honoured by the King, thanked and advertised by a host of distinguished patients, and heartily blessed by the poor. That he has loved his work—the exercise of his mysterious gift—and loved his patients is obvious, and with so much to make him happy, the reader cannot help feeling that he might forgive the orthodox doctors who impeded his triumphal progress. Plainly, however, he does not. He sees spite where the reader sees only prejudice. It is a pity that this bitterness should spoil more than a few of his pleasant chapters.
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