maturing and perfecting the
author's style. "Religion and Superstition" is the current article in
F. E. M. Hercules' interesting series on Trinidad; and exhibits all the
polish, lucidity and conciseness of its predecessors. "His Photo," by
Master Randolph Trafford, is a very promising poem by a youthful bard.
Every rhyme is correct, which is more than can be claimed for a great
deal of the poesy perpetrated by older and more pretentious versifiers
on this side of the Atlantic. The present instalment of "The Choice," by
Beryl Mappin, is marked by considerable fluency and animation, though
possessed of certain limitations previously mentioned.

* * * * *

=Merry Minutes= for March commences with the present critic's dull lines
"On Receiving a Picture of the Marshes at Ipswich." Passing to more
meritorious matter, we encounter Miss Mappin's latest literary article,
"Shakespeare," which interests even whilst it reveals deficiencies of
prose technique. "Jimmy's Little Girl," by Joseph Parks, is a vivid
transcript of military life by a military author. While the tale is not
one of vast originality, it nevertheless recommends itself through
simplicity and verisimilitude. Miss Mappin's serial "The Choice,"
concludes in this issue. It is very praiseworthy for its many colourful
passages, but mildly censurable for its melodramatic atmosphere and
rhetorical lapses. The opening sentence of this instalment contains
instances of both of these faults: "A terrible foreboding gripped
Christabel's heart in bands of steel, as if for a moment to cleave her
tongue to the roof of her mouth." This is the last number of the
publication to appear under the present name. Beginning with the April
issue it will be known as =The Little Budget=; and will contain, on the
average, a rather higher grade of reading matter than heretofore. But in
forming a judgment of any kind, it is well to recognize that the
magazine's appeal is frankly popular.

* * * * *

=Pep= for February is the first number of a somewhat extraordinary
enterprise conducted by George W. Macauley with the laudable object of
waking up a sleeping amateurdom. The editor very justly takes the press
associations to task for their manifold sins, particularly the dubious
circumstances surrounding a recent convention, in which it is needless
to say the United had no part. Mr. Macauley's literary attainments are
very considerab