A treat awaits all the little folks who can be made the happy possessors of “Queer Stories for Boys and Girls.”[M] There may be found fairy stories and stories of real folks; stories of good children and those of bad children—and somehow the bad ones always “get the worst of it,” just as they ought to do. Then those stories told by the “Cellar Door Club!” They are enough to make any boy want to go right out and start a club like that in his own neighborhood. Parents would do well to see that their children are provided with these Queer Stories. They will help to cultivate in them such a love for the true and the good as to lead them to shun frivolous literature.
The striking originality displayed in “The King’s Men”[N] must secure for the book a wide reading. The scene is laid in the twentieth century, and the present times are alluded to as the days of old. The pitiable attempt at keeping up the show of royalty in his narrow quarters in America, on the part of England’s exiled king, George V., the grandson of the present Prince of Wales, is well depicted. The struggle of the young English republic, and the sympathy and aid given it by its elder sister, America, are as real as if true. A capital hit is made in the employment he finds for the poor British aristocracy. These remnants of “better days,” in order to obtain a livelihood, let themselves out to a sort of caterer. This personage uses them as guests at the entertainments of the new families in the rising republic, who wish to hire titles to give them prestige in society.
What is to be done with the negro factor in our nation is a question over which the minds of our statesmen have been long interested. Judge Tourgée now comes to the front, and very vividly, and in the earnest manner so characteristic of the man, shows the dangers threatening in the not far distant future. To avert these action, prompt and specific, is necessary now. What, in the estimation of the Judge, this action should be he sets forth in his “Appeal to Cæsar.”[O] This appeal is forcible and logical. His Cæsar, the great American People, it is to be hoped, will not turn a deaf ear to it. This appeal to his Cæsar is a serious book. It is not fiction—nor plain truth clothed in fiction—it is the honest conviction of an earnest, far-seeing man, told plainly and with ringing effect. “The color line,” the author claims, “which before marked only the distinction of caste, has now become the line of demarkation between hostile forces. Out of the ‘irrepressible conflict’ between freedom and slavery has grown one of far graver portent to the nation and the world. Must one of these forces overthrow, subjugate, and forever hold in subjection the other? Or is it possible that the two races live peacefully side by side, and equality of right and power be cheerfully accorded to all?” The author believes this may be done, but that it must be done quickly. For us it is to act. And how? By educating our freedman. A national appropriation is pleaded for as the only sure way of avoiding the ills which threaten the Union from the South. It is not croaking to talk plainly on an evil, or the possibility of an evil. The book on the contrary is manly and forcible, and deserves careful attention.
A good feature of “young American” literature is its biography. Many of the short papers which appear in the periodical press are remarkably strong. Such certainly are the articles by James Parton which for some time have been appearing in leading papers, and which have lately been gathered into book form under the title, “Captains of Industry.”[P] The strongest feature of this collection is the freshness of the material. A few of the models which we hold before our boys have become not a little threadbare. They no longer arouse much enthusiasm. Here is a book full of new heroes who have done not impossible things like becoming the father of one’s country, or inventing a steam engine, or discovering America, but have done deeds which are, or at least seem, practical. Here is the history of Frederick Tudor, the Boston ice exporter, with a capital story of the appreciations which East Indians have for the man who gave them the blessing of ice; of Chauncey Jerome, the Yankee clock maker; of Carême, the famous French cook, and of over forty more, most of them equally new. Material so good deserves thorough treatment. It has not had such in this volume. The newspaper mark lingers on the work. The literary finish of the book is not equal to the spirit with which it was evidently written, nor to the amount of labor which must have been expended in collecting these valuable and entertaining facts and anecdotes. The book is so good that this is to be regretted.
There has never been a satisfactory explanation advanced by geologists of the origin of what is called “the Drift” period of the earth’s history. One theory attributes it to the action of great waves, but “the Drift” contains no fossils; another to icebergs, but the heaviest rocks are not found on top, and there is no regular stratification of material. All theories have been more or less incomplete. The author of that strange book “Atlantis,” has in “Ragnarok”[Q] found a new explanation. The name itself explains his theory. It is derived from an old Scandinavian legend, and means “the rain of dust.” “The Drift” is nothing, our author holds, and argues with great ingenuity, but the dust scattered by a comet which struck the earth ages ago. Novel and fascinating as is the book, its scientific value is not very great. Lovers of legends will find many strange myths introduced in support of the theory. The author, too, by ingeniously rearranging the verses in the first and second chapters of Genesis, thinks he has found the key that will unlock all the troubles that are claimed to exist between the Bible and science.