hemselves have ceased to
make the mistake of underrating their antagonists.

The female lobbyist is a character that "once-upon-a-time" flourished
at the national and in State capitals, but modern methods have made
her, to a large degree, superfluous, and now the high-priced lawyer,
representing the Trust, deals directly with the party boss instead of
the individual lawmaker. It is cheaper and quicker.

Mr. Tarkington's friends, Boss Gorgett and Mrs. Protheroe, belong to a
species that is extinct--at any rate, outside of Indiana.

* * * * *

"The Chronicles of Don Q," by K. and Hesketh Prichard, J. B.
Lippincott Company, is a picturesque tale of adventure, told, however,
with a restraint that lends dignity and a fair degree of plausibility.

Being the story of a Spanish bandit, there is, of course, an abundance
of murder and sudden deaths; but as the right persons survive, and a
majority of the villains die, with more or less violence, the
sensibilities of the reader are not much shocked.

In spite of Don Q's profession and associates, and a temperament
somewhat pessimistic for a highwayman, he is not really a bad sort of
fellow. His idiosyncrasies are due, doubtless, to an early
disappointment in love, on account of which allowances are to be made,
particularly as he retains his courtly manners, a careful regard for
the misfortunes of others, so far as his occupation permits, a very
efficient sympathy with the weak and a devotion to the Church
manifested in many practical ways--his piety being of the kind
imitated, with more or less success in America, by persons said to
belong to the same class as Don Q.

Though apparently absolutely isolated from the rest of the world in
his mountain retreat in southern Spain, he keeps in touch with affairs
outside so far as they affect him, and is able, in mysterious ways, to
anticipate, and so defeat, all attempts to ensnare him. Surprise is
impossible for him, as it was for Sherlock Holmes.

If his portrait, by Stanley Wood, is a faithful likeness, the
influence of his presence is not to be wondered at.

* * * * *

"Constance Trescott," by Dr. S. Weir Mitchell, Century Company, stands
out among the stronger books of the season. He takes for his heroine a
not unfamiliar type of woman, reared by an old uncle whose antipathy
to religion has made her, as she describes it: "Neither religious nor
non-religious--op