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butions from successive members of York Times, where his interesting the family-the well-known contemporary novelist and the youthful author of this book sharing at the present time the responsibility of upholding the heredthe hereditary traditions. It seems, therefore, happily appropriate that Miss Rives should have taken upon herself the task of placing before the world southern views of the problem of lynching, which, be it understood, are far from unanimous. The subject is handled with admirable tact, the author steering clear alike from prudish affectations of modesty and shocking details of inartistic realism: and throughout is maintained a judicial impartiality infrequent in the treatment of such burning questions. "Miss Rives will achieve distinction in the South, and at least notability elsewhere."

as

Harold Frederic, the London correspondent of the New York Times, most widely known perhaps author of that much discussed, interesting novel, The Damnation of Theron Ware,(*) (published in England under the title Illuminations) died at Henley, England, on the 19th

of October. He was born at Utica, N. Y., on the 19th of August, 1856, and spent his boyhood on a small farm. In 1874 he entered the office of the Utica Herald as a proofreader. In 1882 he took editorial charge of the Albany Evening Journal, and two years later became head foreign department of the New

(*) The Damnation of Theron Ware. By Harold Frederic. 12mo. cloth. Price $1.08. By mail $1.23. In paper covers, price 33 cents. By mail 43 cents.

and graphic letters made him widely
known. Although his principal
field was journalism, he made for
himself a name as author by a num-
ber of books, which mostly picture
American life in an attractive, clever
and interesting manner.
He was a
vigorous writer, with a finished style
and an astute observer of human
character. Outside of his aforemen-
tioned great novel, The Damnation
of Theron Ware, perhaps his best
work was In the Valley,(1) a beau-
tiful tale of the Mohawk, containing
charming pictures of real life which
have gained for this book the
epithet of an American Lorna Doone.
His last book, Gloria Mundi(*) has
been running as a serial through the
Cosmopolitan magazine, and has just
been published in book form.
has also left the manuscript of
another novel, entitled The Market
Place, which he had completed
shortly before his death and which
will soon be brought out in book
form.

He

The place of London correspondent to the New York Times, vacated by the death of Harold Frederic, has been filled by the well-known Engglish author and world-traveled correspondent of the London Daily Chronicle, Henry Norman. He was born in Leicester (England) on the 19th of September 1858, received his early education in England, was sent at the age of 17 to Paris, and after

(1) In the Valley. By Harold Frederic. With illustrations by Howard Pyle. 12mo. cloth. Price $1.08. By mail $1.23.

(2) Gloria Mundi. By Harold Frederic. Price $1.08. By mail $1.23.

12mo. cloth.

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On this page our readers will find the latest photograph of Wilof William Le Queux, the clever author of Scribes and Pharisees, The Eye of Istar, Zoraida, and other popular novels. Mr. Le Queux writes me from Leghorn (Italy), that he has just completed a new novel, The Bond of Black, which will make its

(*) The Peoples and Politics of the Far East. Travels and studies in the British, French, Spanish and Portuguese Colonies, China, Japan, Korea, Siam and Malaya. By Henry Norman. With 60 illustrations and 4 maps. 8vo. cloth. Price $3.00. By mail $3.25.

WILLIAM LE QUEUX.

appearance shortly. Another new story, entitled, A Matter of Millions, will appear in the Christmas number of the New York Herald. I expect to publish shortly in these columns a biographical sketch of this interesting young writer, based on material kindly furnished me by Mr. Le Queux himself.

The story of the production of Dr. Busch's Secret Pages of Bismarck's Life, (*) says the London Academy, could it be fully told, would, we fancy, enrich the anecdotal history of the publishing trade. To begin, this book of European interest has the singular distinction of being published in London alone. There is no German edition, and probably none is possible; hence Messrs. Mac

(*) Bismarck. Some Secret Pages of his History. Being a diary kept by Dr. Moritz Busch. 2 vols. Illustrated. 8vo. cloth. Price $9.00. By mail $9 35.

millan's work is being bought greedily by German readers. Again, the book has been produced with extraordinary speed. The author's preface is dated July 30; but his MS. came into Messrs. Macmillan's hands much later, and we do not think we betray a secret in stating that Messrs. Macmillan printed, bound and produced this bulky two-volume work in nine days. And these facts leave out of account the steps by which Messrs. Macmillan secured the right to publish the book at all.

A large first edition of Tom Benton's Luck, by Herbert Elliott Hamblen, a new boy's book, has been sold in advance of publication. The English edition was also out of print before the book had appeared. A second edition has just been published. The popularity of the author of On Many Seas and The General Manager's Story has now stood the wear and tear of three publishing seasons. There is little doubt but that this new book by the clever author will find many appreciative readers, especially among our boys. It will prove to be one of the favorites among this year's Christmas books.

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Professor Adolf Hausrath, of the Heidelberg University, who wrote under the pseudonym of George Taylor several excellent historical novels, which have also been translated into English (Klytia, Antinous, etc.), has just finished a new novel of the sixteenth century, entitled Pater Maternus. The scene is laid in Rome during the time of Luther's visit there; the story deals with the liberation by a German monk of a christened Jewess, who is to be made a nun against her will.

In the interesting account of General A. W. Greely's experience in the far north, which appeared in the October number of the Ladies'

Home Journal, he tells of Christmas Day, spent at Cape Sabine in that terrible winter, when eighteen of his party of twenty-four explorers perished. He writes:

"On Christmas Day we all asked ourselves the same wondering question: Was there ever such another Christmas as ours? It was a feast day for which certain food was set apart, and it was as if we had almost enough to eat. The self-denial of two months now gave us each about three ounces of rice, which was stewed, with about equal amounts of raisins and condensed milk-the only sweet, as our sugar was gone. Then came a cup of chocolate, and in the evening a gill of hot rum- -a precious stimulant saved for emergencies. In the health, strength and plenty of the past two years there was always complaining, which was rare in the misery of that period.

That Christmas' silent endurance blossomed into speech, and each strove to outdo in sympathy and affection. The embers of hate, that oft glowed under the breath of circumstance, lost their last spark of malice. Good will and love were the parole and countersign of the day. How can such wealth of things spiritual spring up in wretched environment of things material if it be not the expression of immortal souls! Sure it was that our bodies were fast coming to death, as slowly but inevitably they were getting out of adjustment with our environment of biting cold and bitter hunger. The soul appears to thrive when the body fails. Fairer were some of these faces to me, since many turned all their manly strength to act and work for others' good. As to our faith and hope, stronger on that Christmas Day than ever, they have been voiced by Cardinal Newman as if for us alone at that time:

So long Thy power has blessed me, sure it still
Will lead me on

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone.'

Those stirring and reverent verses written by Rudyard Kipling during the Victorian Jubilee year, commemorating with solemnity the forces which brought about Britain's power and wealth, might well, at this time be recalled by every true American.

"God of our fathers, known of old

Lord of our far-flung battle line-
Beneath whose aweful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine-
Lord God of hosts, be with us yet
Lest we forget-lest we forget!"

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I read in the London Academy the surprising news that the brilliant young Italian writer, who wrote that much talked of book, Via Lucis, under the pseudonym of Kassandra Vivaria, and who was generally supposed to be buried alive in a convent, has been staying for several weeks in London with her publisher. I expect soon to hear of a new book from her, which cannot fail to attract attention, so much advertisement having been given to the author by press comments about her mysterious person, the pathetic story of her young life and her clever first and, as was generally supposed, last book. An article about her and her book, together with her portrait appeared in the July number.

THE BOOKWORM

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