One sees,
however, even without Mrs. STEEL'S own declaration, that it has been
for her a grateful task to set down "a record of the most perfect
passion ever shown by man for woman." This was the adoration of the
EMPEROR for his consort, an amazing romance of Oriental domesticity,
which makes the story of the pair stranger and more fascinating than
fiction. A love-tale indeed; and, since 'tis love that makes a book
go round, one may trust the circulating libraries to see to it that
_Mistress of Men_ is well represented on their shelves. As a study
of an alluring, dazzling and masterful personality it was well worth
writing.

* * * * *

There is a sad interest in the title-page of _Irish Memories_
(LONGMANS), since only by a pathetic fiction does it bear the names,
as joint authors, of E. OE. SOMERVILLE and "MARTIN ROSS," those two
gifted ladies whose association has been such a happy chance for
them and for us all. Really the book, though in part compiled from
the letters and journals of "MARTIN," is an eloquent tribute by Miss
SOMERVILLE to the partner whose death has robbed her of a friend and
the world of so much kindly laughter. But, haunted as it is by this
shadow of bereavement, you must in no way think of it as wholly a
thing of gloom. Looking back into the good years, the writer has
recalled many incidents and scenes full of that genial and most
infectious merriment that we have learnt to expect from her--tales of
the wonderful peasant chorus that one remembers first in the pages of
_An Irish R.M._, exploits after hounds (it needs no telling how well
both authors loved them), and much besides. There will be interest
also for many uninitiated admirers in the account here given of how
the famous stories came first into being. Of its more intimate and
personal side I hesitate to speak; those who loved "MARTIN ROSS,"
either through her writings or in the closer relationship of friend,
must be glad that her _ave atque vale_ has been spoken, as she would
have wished it, by her whose right it was. It will send many to
read again those delightful volumes with a new appreciation of the
sympathetic and lovable personality that helped in their making.

* * * * *

I am afraid that something of the charm which, in a sympathetic
preface, M. HENRI BORDEAUX claims for _A Crusader in France_ (MELROSE)
is veiled by a rather faltering translation. I would counsel