NEWMAN. & Co.’s
RECENT PUBLICATIONS.
Cloth 8vo. 10s. 6d.
New Poems.
By John Payne, Author of “The Masque of Shadows,” “Lautrec,” &c., &c.
To be had at all Libraries.
“That Mr. Payne’s New Poems are replete with that indefinable light that never was on sea or land may safely be asserted. . . . If fault be found with ‘Thorgerda’—doubtless Payne’s chef d’oeuvre—it will be for its super-affluence of splendour and description. . . His compactness of form and distinctness of meaning leave little to be desired. . . . ‘The Ballad of Isobel’ disputes the palm of excellence with ‘Thorgerda,’ and with the many will, doubtless, gain the preference. In tone and form it is the opposite of ‘Thorgerda,’ being as cold, chaste, and simple as that is warm and voluptuous.”—The Academy.
“In his ‘Ballad of Isobel,’ again, there are strains of such old-world music as but few can produce nowadays, especially in the concluding verses, which are simply exquisite, and would have been enough to establish their author’s reputation if he had never written another line. . . . ‘Salvestra,’ which is by far the finest poem in the book, must be commended equally for the simple beauty of its verse and for the admirable tact with which a somewhat risqué subject has been treated. It would have been easy, for instance, to infuse an element of coarseness into the passage where Girolamo sees his unconscious love undressed, but Mr. Payne has made it only pathetic and beautiful.”—Morning Post.
“Mellifluous, entrancing, sensuous, Mr. Payne’s poetic effusions possess magical charms for gentle readers of languid temperament and amorous sensibilities. As great a master of song as Swinburne and Rossetti, and of the same school . . . his warblings, most musical, most melancholy, enchant the ear, and beguile the heart with fancy-drawn raptures. . . . Mr. Payne’s powers are of their kind unsurpassed—perhaps unequalled. Love is their theme, love melodious, sad and plaintive, like the amorous descants of the nightingale, or the dulcet murmurings of fountains of sweet waters.”—Civil Service Gazette.
. . . “Cette ‘Salvestré,’ occupant un tiers du volume, est l’histoire d’amour la plus terrible et la plus délicieuse qu’on puisse lire.”—Theodore de Bauville, dans le National.
“Here is a man who is cultured to a point of exquisiteness that is phenomenal; he has simply a perfect command of our language, and makes light of difficulties that would have frightened the great ones of the past time; his musical sense is faultless.”—Vanity Fair.
“Herod out-Heroded—alliteration carried to the verge of affectation—cannot destroy the subtle charm of New Poems, a volume full of musical verse, various in kind and in manner, but all, or nearly all, singularly melodious, quaint, refined, attractive. . . . . ‘Salvestra’ involves a description of matters which may shock very delicate nerves; but the poetical treatment shows that the writer has all that is required of delicacy as well as of passion, of tenderness, of imagination, and of language for turning the subject to most charming account.”—The Illustrated London News.
“We have already on several occasions expressed our great admiration of the merits of Mr. John Payne, and our conviction that he is entitled to a high place among the poets of the day. His astonishing mastery over difficulties of metre, the grace and harmony of his language, and the subtle charm which runs through all his writings, merit a warm recognition at the hands of all students of modern poetry. is manner is simply perfect; and if his matter is sometimes deficient in solidity, and sometimes open to a graver charge, which he shares with the fleshy school of poetry, we find it difficult to escape from the influence of the charm of his diction and of his wonderful lyrical power. The volume of New Poems which he has just published will well maintain his fame as one of the most refined and cultivated of the band of writers who have in the present day shown how flexible and melodious an instrument is to be found for the poet’s use in our English tongue. . . . He revels in difficulties, and overcomes them with a grace and harmony of style which are most attractive.”—John Bull.
Demy 8vo. cloth. 12s. 6d.
Life and Society in America.
By Samuel Phillips Day, Author of “Down South,” “English America; or, Pictures of Canadian Places and People,” &c.
To be had at all Libraries.
A SECOND SERIES WILL BE READY IN JUNE.
“We are indebted to Mr. Day for a most readable and entertaining collection of sketches of Transatlantic life, drawn by one who is not only a keen observer of men and manners, but who is also evidently gifted with a shrewd and penetrating insight into human nature. Our author, starting from Queenstown in one of the magnificent ‘National’ steamers, is landed within ten days at New York. The impression made upon him by the ‘Empire City’ does not appear to have been a favourable one. It must be remembered that the ‘Manhattanese’ are a very composite and cosmopolitan population, entirely engaged in commercial pursuits, from whom it would not be fair to expect the culture and refinement observable in such centres of political and literary activity as either Washington or Boston. Liverpool is not a fair sample of English life and manners; no more is New York of American. Mr. Day, who gives us a very full and exhaustive account of all the social surroundings of the ‘Empire City,’ with its huge Babel-like hotels, its swarm of restaurants and eating-houses, necessary to a people who live out of their own homes, and its varied modes of locomotion, likens this huge hive to ‘a combination of London, Berlin, and Paris.’ The city is laid out in parallelograms, and the streets are numerically named. The practice—widely prevalent—of hanging out clothes to dry on the house-tops must be sadly detrimental to the appearance of respectable neighbourhoods. Our author found that the city, generally speaking, is ill kept and worse governed. Still immense improvements have been made during the last thirty years in the police administration. We have been assured by a friend whose recollections of the city extend back to a period when the present generation were yet in the cradle, that in those days the ‘rowdies,’ as the promiscuous and rampant rascaldom of New York was termed, compelled respectable and peaceable citizens to take a revolver with them when they left home for business in the morning as regularly as they put on their great-coats when the thermometer failed to register a certain temperature.
“On a changé tout cela—the police of to-day are both energetic and efficient, and the ‘firing free’ of years ago is now happily confined to low drinking saloons and gambling hells. No one acquainted with the New York of to-day will, however, deny the justice of Mr. Day’s strictures so far as they relate to the scandalous and open facilities for immorality afforded by the ‘demoralising haunts’ infesting the city in the shape of the ‘cellars,’ where dancing and drinking go on until early in the morning, the ministering Hebes being ‘gaudily attired females of notoriously loose character.’ Immorality in this city is certainly unblushingly open, and does not seem to trouble itself about that decent screen which legislative action as well as public opinion has compelled it to shelter itself with in this country. In this sphere of activity there is certainly a wide field open to the philanthropic labours of a ‘social purity alliance.’ New York, like all other great commercial centres, possesses a certain “shoddy aristocracy”—to use a popular term—the mushroom outcome of successful speculation, and this aristocracy, knowing nothing better than fine houses, well-appointed carriages, and blazing jewels—the goal of its efforts—naturally delights in magnificent display. Hence in this city of the great Republic may be observed the strange spectacle of crested carriages and gorgeous footmen. As might be expected, the fairer portion of the inhabitants of the Fifth Avenue are not less addicted to gay dressing and sumptuous jewellery than their lords are to four-in-hands and yachts that might excite the envy of a king. According to Mr. Day, ‘a middle-class family in this country could live well upon the sum necessary to rig an American belle efficiently.’ This, be it understood, does not include jewellery, of which our Manhattanese cousins seem to be inordinately fond. Indeed, our author assures us that ‘no New York woman, be she dame or spinster, considers herself properly ‘adjusted,’ save when she has got half-a-dozen diamond rings sparkling on her tiny tapering fingers.’ He adds, ‘I am acquainted with a literary childless lady, whose husband every year invariably presents her with a pledge of love in the form of a diamond ring.’
“The excessive freedom from old-world social restraints characteristic of New York life seems to have jarred upon the nerves of Mr. Day. Not the least shocking to our way of thinking among the social anomalies that owe their existence to this freedom of manners is the custom so prevalent in some of the large and more go-ahead cities of the Union of courtship by advertisement. A gentleman travelling by steamboat or tramcar in New York sees a lady to whom he is an entire stranger, but with whose appearance he is prepossessed. The total want of acquaintance with the object of his adoration is no obstacle to his courtship, and with the most perfectly honourable intentions he hurries to his office or to his home, and pens such an advertisement as the following, selected by Mr. Day from the New York Herald:—
“Broadway.—Tuesday Afternoon.—Young lady, short, flowing hair, please grant an interview to young gentleman who crossed at Duane Street. Address, M. B., Box 4,678, Post-Office.
“Here is another gem from the ‘personal’ column:—
“The gentleman who unfortunately dropped the young lady while assisting her in crossing Grand Street on Sunday night desires her acquaintance. Address, F., 32, Grand Street.
“Our Transatlantic cousins are notoriously fond of being lectured to. Of course a reputation for brilliancy on the platform is not gained in a day any more than it is in any other walk of life, and it seems, according to the highest possible authority on Transatlantic lecturing—the Literary Bureau—that ‘next to merit nothing so assists a lecturer’s success as printer’s ink.’ Acting on this principle, the bureau devotes pages of its publication to advertisements, in the shape of articles from the pens of popular authors spreading abroad the special merits of its clients. Judging from the specimens given by Mr. Day, there is a vigour in these puffs peculiar to Yankee journalists, and never approached by their brethren of the pen on this side of the Atlantic. Take the following specimen culled by our author from an article in the Literary Magazine descriptive of the brilliant wit and striking delivery peculiar to a certain George Francis Train. Why, as an advertisement it would be well worth five dollars a line did ink flow less readily from Transatlantic quills. Speaking of the lecturer’s manner his critic says: ‘He slaps his thighs till the noise resounds throughout the length and breadth of the hall. He drags himself almost on all fours from corner to corner, then knuckles himself, so to speak, back to the reading-desk, which he falls upon as if he would shiver it in pieces and then eat them. He double-shuffles and stamps on the floor till the uprising dust obscures him; he beats his breast, clenches his fist, clutches his hair, plays ball with the furniture, outhowls the roaring elements, streams with perspiration, foams at the mouth, paces up and down till he looks like a lion in a cage lashing his tail. . . . . And such a mimic is he that when he placed a chair in the centre of the platform, and kept trotting around it to show how certain old fogies revolve in the same everlasting orbit, he actually resembled a dog trying to make time against his disappearing tail.
“It is natural that in a land where the art, or rather science, of advertising has been carried to so extraordinary a pitch of perfection, peculiar privileges should fall to the lot of those whose calling gives them in a pre-eminent degree the use of that highly-prized instrument—the trumpet of fame. Hence America has not inappropriately been termed the ‘Paradise of Editors.’ For some highly piquant details on the subject we will refer our readers to Mr. Day’s chapter. It must not be supposed that our author has confined his observations on American life to these brilliant sketches of men and manners in the ‘Empire City’. In his agreeable company we have the privilege of visiting the ‘city of brotherly love,’ as he terms Philadelphia, the capital of Pennsylvania, and the second city of the United States as regards population; the ‘gay capitol,’ as the Americans delight to call Washington, the seat of government; and the ‘hub of the universe,’ as scholarly Boston, the home of authors and blue stockings, has been nicknamed. For Mr. Day’s impressions of these respectively representative centres of Transatlantic life and culture we must refer our readers to his bright and animated pages, of the spirit of which, at once genial and candid, we trust this review has given them some idea, however necessarily inadequate.”—Social Notes.
“Such an interesting and amusing book is sure to find plenty of readers. Nor will any one who takes it up lay it, down without profit as well as pleasure. It tells us about hotels and boarding-houses—those banes of family life—about popular preachers, and mediums, and free love, and tippling; besides taking us to Boston, and Washington, and Utah, and Philadelphia. Mr. Day by no means flatters the Americans; doubtless he thinks, with Dickens, that, having started on such high principles, they are bound to keep well above the European level. The New York tramcars, if cheap, are nasty. On trance mediums and others of the Sludge genus it is impossible to be too hard; Mr. Day does not spare them. Nor is he pleased with the popular preachers. Dr. Ward Beecher’s sermon he finds shocking in delivery, and below mediocrity in subject-matter and arrangement, although enlivened with sentences like this: ‘Some say lawyers can’t go to heaven. It’s a lie. Some say merchants can’t go to heaven. It’s a lie,” each sentence being emphasized with a violent stamp of the foot. There are some surprises in the book. We know the Americans are etiquettish, but we could not have imagined Emerson declining an invitation to dinner because he had no dress coat with him. Mormon women, we had often heard, are ugly; but that a ‘porter-house steak’ costs 5s., and that New York meat is not only very inferior, but very badly cooked, was news to us. American editors have wonderful privileges; in many places they get their food and clothing gratis in return for ‘personal’ articles. The book ought to be studied by all who want to see the shadows as well as the lights of American society.”—Graphic.
“We would not recommend Mr. Day to visit the United States for some time to come. The sweeping strictures that he passes on some of our cousins’ most cherished institutions would probably lead to his introduction to Judge Lynch. On this side of the Atlantic, however, we can afford to laugh at these revelations of the undercurrent of life in the States. The book will, however, serve to show those who believe in Mr. Bright’s doctrine of the immeasurable superiority of the United States over England that there is another and a very different side to the case. Between the unsparing censures of Mr. Day and the unmeasured praise of Mr. Bright, our kinsmen across the Atlantic may well wonder what is their real character.”—Globe.
“This is a work of uncommon merit. It is an exhaustive picture of life in the United States, which we can recommend to all persons who are interested in the social life of the Great Republic. The book contains twenty chapters, which treat of a great variety of subjects, such as ‘The Cost of Living,’ ‘The Paradise of Editors,’ ‘The Gay Capital,’ ' Marriage Made Easy,’ ‘The Empire City,’ &c., all practical, instructive, and interesting. We can commend the book as spiritedly written and containing much interesting information.”—Galignani’s Messenger.
“So much interest is now manifested concerning the domestic manners and ‘society’ of our first cousins across the Atlantic that this volume is sure to find many eager readers, who will discover in it much of interest and value. Mr. Samuel Phillips Day is by no means an unknown writer, several of his books on American society having been exceedingly successful. He has lived a long time in the United States, principally in New York, and as he is possessed of a great deal of natural quickness of observation he is generally very amusing and trustworthy. His description of New York is unfavourable. ‘The felicity of domestic life, as we in England understand it, is almost unknown in this “go-ahead” centre of commerce. The people live much out of doors, not relishing the tame monotony and dull stillness of home. There are special red-letter days, it is true, in their calendar, when social gatherings occur, but these are not so numerous as they have been a few years ago. The nominal heads of families when their day’s work is done betake themselves to their comfortable clubs, where they read the papers, “liquor,” and indulge in games of hazard. Materfamilias receives her special visitors at home, and so do the female “olive branches” when they have reached the age of womanhood. Each has her familiar male friend or suitor. Indeed, it is not uncommon for a gentleman to have visited an American family many times and yet never to have seen the parents of the young lady or ladies deputed to receive him.’ This is a fact, but at the same time it must be remembered that it is rather a rule with the ‘shoddy’ than with the families of older respectability. Mr. Day is quite right when he describes the genuine New York ‘shoddy’ as the vulgarest creature on earth, and it is he and his brothers and sisters who give the Americans such evil repute abroad. Fast, ignorant, flashy, and brutal, the men of this order and type are simply insufferable. The women are a little better, but often wild and profoundly corrupt. . . . Mr. Day gives a very agreeable account of Mr. Longfellow’s residence. . . . The chapters on hotels and boarding-houses are well done, and accurate enough to be of value to tourists and others intending to visit America.”—Morning Post.
“This is not merely a very interesting book, but one which has a special value, inasmuch as it is the work of a writer who is thoroughly acquainted with his subject. He has obviously lived in various parts of the States for considerable periods, and he clearly knows enough of society to generalize with tolerable accuracy. It need hardly be said that his opinions are not invariably flattering, and that some of his judgments are likely to give no little offence. Mr. Day finds that American girls are cold and calculating. ‘They will drink champagne with you, crack jokes with you, gossip with you, smoke cigarettes with you, nay, even flirt a bit with you; but they will not marry you, save upon the cold, careful consideration of how you stand with your banker.’ We have heard very often that there are no hotels like those of New York, and the English hotels are only tolerable as they resemble them. Mr. Day tells us that they are anything but desirable residences; huge and unsightly in appearance, destitute of many arrangements for comfort which Englishmen consider a matter of necessity; noisy, bustling, and generally unpleasant places to inhabit. Nor is Mr. Day much more favourably impressed with American religion. From time to time certain ‘evangelists’ have been kind enough to visit this country in hope of ‘converting’ the unenlightened Britisher, and relieving him of a little of his superfluous cash; but it would seem that there is quite sufficient work for them at home, and that the English clergy have very little to learn from their American brethren. If Americans fall short in religious matters, however, they make up in the amount of their superstition. Astrologers and clairvoyants innumerable advertise their pretended gifts in the daily papers, and magnetism and spiritualism count their dupes by thousands. On the vexed question of drink Mr. Day speaks with weight. The over-restrictive legislation which some well-meaning people are anxious to see introduced into this country, in imitation of the States, he pronounces to be a conspicuous failure. ‘It has more extensively introduced the rum jug into the family circle. Old and reliable physicians throughout the States now report a fourfold increase in cases of delirium tremens. To-day a man with four inches of Maine whisky in him is not less dangerous than a wild beast.’ These are striking words, and Mr. Day has done well to quote them and to comment upon them as he has done. There, however, we must leave his book. Enough has probably been said to show that the work thoroughly deserves the character given to it at the outset, inasmuch as it deals with a great variety of topics, and treats of all with knowledge, common sense, and sound judgment. The present volume is described as the first series; few readers will put it down without wishing for the second.”—Morning Advertiser.
“I find that you have fully succeeded in bringing out, with much force and talent, the most prominent features of American life.”—Prince Camille de Polignac.
Preparing for publication, crown 8vo cloth. Price 12s 6d.
The Second Series of
Life and Society in America.
The following will form some of the chapter headings:—
|
Go-ahead. |
Gambling. |
8vo. cloth. 4s.
Laura Dibalzo; or, The Patriot Martyrs.
By R. H. Horne, Author of “Orion,” “The Death of Marlowe,” &c.
At all Libraries.
“There is a feeling of peculiar pleasure in welcoming back an old writer of the highest order to the scene of his ancient triumphs, and in finding that the hand has lost none of its old cunning nor the brain a particle of its inspiration. This is eminently the case with Mr. Richard Hengist Horne. . . Since the day when the veteran author astonished the literary world with that celebrated and most noble of contemporary poems, ‘Orion,’ nothing more striking than his latest work has come from his pen; not even the sombre splendours of ‘Cosmo de Medici’ or ‘The Death of Marlowe’ can cast ‘Laura Dibalzo’ into the shade. The plot turns upon the sufferings of the Neapolitan patriot nobles during the last evil days of King Bomba; whilst wifely constancy to a husband’s honour rather than his life inspires the play and works up to a climax than which nothing finer has been conceived since the catastrophe of ‘Venice Preserved.’ Laura’s dying cry makes one sigh for the days when Helen Faucit might have put the last scene of this noble play before our bodily eyes, and her wonderful voice thrilled us with the agony of these last lines:
Now full of fiery faces, and the shadows
Of constant stones descending! My brain’s stunn’d
With crushing sounds!—I shall be raving soon—
My throat is choked with blood! I must go mad—
And then I might consent—so God assist me
To stand up in my grave-clothes, and say ‘No!’”
Whitehall Review.
“The folk who know and appreciate the writings of one of our noblest poets, and can sympathize with lofty sentiments expressed in verse which might, with out hyberbole, be almost called faultless. . . The story is such as must at once appeal to all lovers of true freedom, as opposed to so-called ‘liberty;’ it deals with the lives and deaths of the noble men who sorrowed and suffered under the evil rule of the most notorious of modern kings—the last crowned monarch but one who ruled the two Sicilies . . . The dying speech of Laura, which closes the play, is one of the most powerful that has been written for years.”—Graphic.
“Some years have passed since Mr. Horne published his striking poem ‘Orion,’ which Edgar Allan Poe praised so enthusiastically. Others have also greatly admired this poem, and others by the same author, who, before quitting England, made many friends amongst the highest literary men of the time, Douglas Jerrold, Robert Browning, Talfourd, Lord Lytton, and a host of others. The reader of the present poem will make acquaintance with a work of sterling merit, depicting with tragic intensity one of the worst periods of Neapolitan history, when that romantic city was the hotbed of vices and crimes such as the world has rarely known before or since.”—Era.
“This noble and powerful tragedy derives a terrible interest from the fact that in it, as the author says, ‘there is nothing set down which the history of the Neapolitan Government of that period does not fully and literally declare and corroborate, whether in atrocious cruelties, or heroic fortitude of resistance;’ and also that several of the characters are portraits, the faithfulness of which will easily be recognised by those readers who are conversant with the history of Naples during the time in question. . . . As a poem alone, it is an achievement of which not only its distinguished author, but all to whom the literary fame of the age is precious, have good cause to feel proud.”—Life.
8vo. cloth. 2s.
Original Readings in Prose and Verse.
“This book was written chiefly for public readings, and it has in place of preface a species of credential from Mrs. Stirling, by whom the poems have been recited. Whether published with or without such distinguished sponsorship would, we imagine, make but little difference in the success of the work, which can well afford to stand upon its merits. The readings are in prose and verse, the latter being by far the better of the two. All of them relate to homely subjects; just such as would go quickest to the hearts of an audience and command their sympathies; and doing that with an audience, it probably will have the same effect with the reading public. The best piece in the book is ‘The Convict’s Escape,’ which is intensely dramatic, and ought, we imagine, to make a good ‘reading’ since it reads so well, The story of the ‘Old Professor,’ who ‘had to take to teaching’ and ‘grind as the miller grinds,’ is very touching, especially when it is remembered how many fine intellects are being worn out by the routine work of Necessity Another meritorious poem, of the vers de société order, is ‘Died of Fever in Bengal,’ wherein is related the story of one Charlie Brandon, who, ‘having but ninety pounds a year,’ ‘whispered in the hour of parting’ from one very far above him, that he would ‘win her yet.’ The poem tells how the news of his death reaches the girl who loved him, at a ball, and describes her sorrow and horror of ‘the life that lies before her’:
‘Thirty, forty years, it may be, have to pass before I die.’
The story is told with ease and with great pathos. There are several clever prose sketches, and one or two high-class farces, all of an amusing nature. Altogether, ‘Original Readings’ is a book of real merit, and deserves a good measure of success.”—Liverpool Daily Post.
“These readings deserve the praise given to them in a short recommendatory epistle by Mrs. Stirling, who has been, we are told, among the readers. They are not entirely verse, though the majority are. Some of these latter, perhaps most of them, are of the domestic affection kind, which is effective at readings. A very effective medley of prose and verse, entitled ‘St. Valentine,’ seems to have been written for Mrs. Stirling, and most people can guess how admirably that accomplished artist would counterfeit Miss Lucretia. A little scene called ‘Fast Friends,’ with two personages only, might be made very good in a drawing-room, and so might the comedietta of Lady Helps. Mr. Henry possesses considerable ability for this sort of work.”—Academy.
“Re Henry, whose name has been rendered familiar to us by our best elocutionists, from Mrs. Stirling to Miss Cowen, has published a little volume of ‘Original Readings in Prose and Verse,’ which displays no mean skill in that style of literary composition peculiarly adapted to public reading. Miss Henry’s prose is instinct with dramatic force; she provokes laughter and moves to tears, touching all the chords which vibrate in the human breast with the same grace and ease. In ‘The Cabman’s Story,” she plays upon the feelings in a very remarkable manner. This piece, which opens allegro and gradually melts into a most sympathetic tone, is, without exception, the finest composition in the book. Miss Henry’s little volume is one of the best collections of ‘readings’ which we have found in a pyramid of such publications.”—Jewish Chronicle.
“In the entertainment given by Miss Cowen last Tuesday evening in the Steinway Hall she certainly had no cause to regret the presentation of some vocal music as interludes in her programme, and though one of these consisted of the charming phrases her popular brother (Mr. F. H. Cowen) has wedded to the little poem ‘Never Again,’ the interest of the occasion centred in Miss Cowen’s delivery of the poetical works written by Re Henry. Though the charm of each poem was enhanced by expressive declamation, the ‘Convict’s Return’ of Re Henry gained most by Miss Cowen’s mode of delivery, and caused the audience to express full appreciation of the literary treat provided.”—London Echo
8vo. cloth. 3s. 6d.
The Crusader.
By G. N. C.
“Gives great promise.”—Graphic.
“There is promise and power.”—Examiner.
8vo. cloth. 3s. Post free 3s. 6d.
Gretchen.
By W. S. Gilbert, Author of, “Pygmalion and Galatea,” “Sweethearts,” “Palace of Truth,” &c.
“The most ambitious work yet attempted by Mr. Gilbert.”—Athenæum.
“Full of beauty, and possesses undoubted merit.”—Court Journal.
“The ‘Sketches of Cambridge’ have exceptional merits. They are true to nature, when they approach her, and have a subtle tenderness for humanity, a longing for something nobler than the every-day life. Some of the verses are suggestive of the highest genius, more melodious than the lyric of Swinburne or Shaughnessy. Julian Home has a great future before him. We have given an outline of the book to our readers. We have given it also praise that we rarely accord.”—Oxford and Cambridge Journal.
“‘Sketches of Cambridge’ present themselves in a tastefully bound volume, as a first series,—the present appearing as introductory odes to the Colleges. Julian Home, their creator, dedicates his verses to the Laureate, and, indeed, from his style, seems to have picked up much of the Tennysonian glow of expression. He writes as a poet who has warm sympathy with his subject, and there is a mellow cadence in his rhythm, as he tells us of—
And the lilies dreamt, a-sleeping,
And the summer stars were peeping
Shyly one by one.’
There is, moreover, an interest in these verses, as they tell of the histories of the various Colleges, and of the great disciples who, from time to time, thronged in them.”—Perthshire Journal.
“This issue, which is the first of a series, is chiefly composed of odes to the various Colleges; and as the names of the great men, at one time scholars within the classic walls, are apostrophized, the verses become, as it were, histories of the places. And Julian Home writes in a soft and sympathetic strain.”—Derby Daily Telegraph.
“In ‘Sketches of Cambridge,’ Julian Home has woven some very pretty stanzas. They are dedicated to the Poet Laureate, and approach the similitude of his verse-making. The present issue only presents the first series, and is chiefly devoted to apostrophizing the seats of learning, and recalling the names of the students who, leaving the shrines, have become famous. The measures of the various odes differ, but all have a genuine ring about them. The cadence falls smoothly.”
“These sketches are by no means untuneful. In some we have noted much pathos, and considerable poetic feeling. The rhythm, too, is good.”—Land and Water.
“Mr. Home must be congratulated on the publication of his book. The ‘Sketches of Cambridge’ are truly delightful, and have the genuine ring of poetry. He possesses the power to paint vividly either external objects or mental impressions. In the verses on St. John’s College there are some fresh and charming pictures. It was a happy idea of the poet’s to introduce Dr. Lightfoot’s last sermon, and we must give it a full meed of praise. We have little doubt as to Mr. Home’s future success.”—University Journal.
8vo. cloth. 5s.
Home they brought her Warrior dead.
By Julian Home, Author of “Sketches of Cambridge.”
An In Memoriam to the late Prince Imperial of France.
“A most delightful book, which ought to be given to every healthy boy, is ‘Legends of Olden Times.’ It consists of three versions of old sagas, not the least of which is ‘The Story of the Nibelung Hoard.’ The English is good and pure, and the stories are well told. Perhaps the author was wise in his generation, but we have always fancied that the Siegfried story, given in prose, demands the diction of the fifteenth century. But then it is not given to all men to write like Caxton, and the book is too good to quarrel about.”—Whitehall Review.
“English children ought to rejoice in them.”—Academy.
“The story of Bearwelf, the dragon slayer, is given with the genuine spirit and the feeling of the original, and is written in a style that bears a touch of archaism to make it as attractive as one of Sir Thomas Malony’s translations. The same remark applies to the story of Wolfderrick, which probably dates back to the period of the crusade mania, its Orientalism is so apparent. Of the three stories in the collection, however, that of the ‘Hoard of the Nibelung’ is the most welcome, and we are glad to find the old heroic legend so appreciatively rendered in prose. It is perhaps the most characteristic of all the legends of the Rhine-land. We trust that Mr. Callwell will supplement his volume with another, which can easily be made out of the abundant materials within reach f an adapter.”—Belfast News.
“Translations—or rather adaptations, adhering so far as possible to the simplicity of style of the original—of three of the old German myths, ‘Bearwelf, the Dragon Slayer,’ ‘Wolfderrick,’ and ‘The Nibelung Hoard.’ These famous old legends have been very tastefully ‘Englished,’ and this volume should be attractive to many readers.”—Scotsman.
“There are few more attractive story books.”—Graphic.
“The authoress has committed to words some graceful and pleasant fancies regarding flowers, narrated in appropriate fable form. Each fable will add to the reader’s store of associations with a number of our best-known and best-loved flowers. The publisher’s share in the production of the volume is thoroughly well fulfilled.”—London Figaro.
“A collection of pretty legends about flowers, very skilfully narrated by Miss Elsa Cowen. It is likely to be a favourite book with children.”—Sunday Times.
“Those who delight to revel in the literature of flowers will find something to their tastes in this small volume.”—Literary World.
“Amongst the many new books published at the commencement of the year, we notice one by Miss Minnie Young—not the first venture, if we are rightly informed, of the fair authoress in the domain of fiction. The present work is written for children. It is a story of a golden thimble set in precious stones. There is no magic in it; and yet where may not so priceless a gift find its way? The dumb treasure is made to tell its own adventures: we find it as a gift in humble life the sport of many a strange scene: then an ornament prized by one of gentle birth; it is caressed with affection, carried away from home, midst scenes seldom witnessed by even those that travel far. The gem, of course, is often lost and found again—strangely, still so naturally; it lives the life, as it were, of a silent witness telling its own history. Last of all, we find it held in memory of one whose young life spanned but a lasting sorrow. These are mere faint shadows of the many pictures depicted in the little book, each, indeed, being a story in itself, sweetly told,—carrying a charm we must commend, for the youthful mind is led to reason whilst reading. Here it will find many a wise word spoken in earnest, kindly meant and admirably expressed. Its very title is romantic. If our young friends are curious to know, in confidence, we would tell them—lose not a day to possess ‘Ysobel’s Thimble,’”—Sunday Times.
“‘Ysobel’s Thimble,’ by Minnie Young is a simple, unpretending little tale of merit.”—Era.
“A pretty and interesting little story in which a gold thimble is, with the licence permitted in fiction, made to recount its own adventures, which are many and various. The tale is none the worse for embodying a wholesome lesson for which no juvenile reader can be the worse, while many may profit by it.”—Scotsman.
8vo. cloth, 2s. 6d.
Scenes from Plautus.
With Introductions and short Notes, for the Higher Forms in Public Schools, By W. Powell James, M.A., Oxon.
“It will be exceedingly useful to that large number of individuals who have never gained more than a smattering of some foreign tongue, and to those also, not a few, who engage to teach what they themselves have never learnt, or learnt most imperfectly. It is generally taken for granted that French, German, and Italian can be acquired very easily, but the study of this very useful book will prove how much care and attention it demands to learn either of them well.”—Tablet.
“The poems which occupy the earlier portion of this volume are exceedingly pleasing, and remind the reader somewhat of the style adopted by the Elizabethan writers. The dramatic sketches are professedly fragmentary, but they are thoughtful in style, and will be read with pleasure by a large class.”—City Press.