two fanciful stories, belonging to the very numerous race which
owe their origin to "Alice in Wonderland." They are cleverly written and skilfully illustrated. To judge of them in cold blood, so to speak, is almost impossible. They ought to be read
not in a reviewer's study, but to a party of children.—The Garden of Delight, by Netta Syrett (Hurst and Blackett), is another
volume of the same kind. But the human element is much more strongly developed,—not a little, we are inclined to think, to the advantage of the reader. The illustrations are too much in Mr. Aubrey Beardsley's style to be quite pleasing.—Revelations
of a Sprite, by A. M. Jackson (T. Fisher Unwin), is yet a fourth book of the same class. It is clever enough, but we cannot help
thinking there is some considerable waste of ability in this direction. It is quite impossible to match the old favourites, which have the prestige of millenniums on their side.
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