OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
The Diary of a Pilgrimage occupies 175 pages of one of ARROWSMITH's three-and-sixpenny books, and no doubt the admirers of its author, Mr. JEROME K. JEROME, may possibly not grudge this amount when gauging its value by its attractive cover. It is "'ARRY Abroad," that's all. 'ARRY Abroad laughs and talks loudly in foreign churches, sneers and jeers at everything he does not understand—and this includes the greater portion of all he sees and hears—chaffs puzzled officials, and everywhere makes himself highly and exceptionally popular. In this Diary 'ARRY is occasionally rather amusing when he is endeavouring to be either serious or sentimental, or both. 'ARRY serious or 'ARRY sentimental, or 'ARRY sentimentally serious and expecting to be taken at his own valuation, is of course delightful, only a little of it goes a great way, and this Cockney pilgrim goes too far, especially when giving us his valuable opinion on the Passion Play. 'ARRY on the Passion Play, and the character of JUDAS ISCARIOT! As Hedda Gabler's husband observes on every possible opportunity—"Fancy that!" Only once the Baron finds himself in agreement with the travelling 'ARRY, and this happens when he says, "I must candidly confess that the English-speaking people one meets with on the Continent are, taken as a whole, a most disagreeable contingent." Yes, certainly, when they are all 'Arries. Set an 'ARRY to catch an 'ARRY, and of course to the regular right-down 'ARRY all other 'ARRIES, not 'appnin' to 'ave the honour of being 'is own partics, are detestably vulgar cads. The remainder of the book, i.e., 131 pages, is padded with essays, a fact not mentioned on the outside of the work, which, like charity, covers a multitude of sins. Whether this is quite a fair way of stating contents, is a question which the Baron supposes both Publishers and Author have thoroughly considered.
Don't skip ELLEN TERRY's Memoirs in The New Review. Nothing much in them, but delightfully chatty and amusing. See Murray's Magazine for Mr. GLADSTONE on the Murray Memoirs, in the number for the "Murray Month of May." When you are routing about for something short and amusing, take up the Cornhill, and read A Flash in the Pan. I have commenced, says the Baron, my friend GEORGE MEREDITH's One of the Conquerors. Now G.M. is an author whose work does not admit of the healthy and graceful exercise of skipping. Here the skipper's occupation is gone. G.M.'s work should be taken away by the reader far from the madding crowd and perused and pondered over. If Ponder's End is a tranquil place as the name implies, then to that secluded spot betake yourself with your GEORGE MEREDITH, O happy and studious reader, and ponder in peace.
Since the time of Richard Feverel, which I shall always consider his best, "of the very best" as ZERO of the Monte Carlo Bar has it, G.M. has developed into a gold-beater of epigrams. What once served him as a two-line epigram, is now spread out over a couple of pages. Two volumes instead of three would serve his turn far better, or rather the public's turn, for his own is a very peculiar one. But to my task, says the Baron, give me a slight refresher and a suck at the lemon as it were, or a sip of the lemonade, and at him again. Festina lente. More anon from
THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.