Those who prefer Scotch broth well peppered to Butter-Scotch, should read Our Journey to the Hebrides, by Mr. and Mrs. Pennell. They seem to have gone out of the beaten track in their tour, which is pleasant, and their views of Scotland, though they may cause controversy, are novel, and at the same time indescribably refreshing. As to the views of Scotland chronicled by Mr. Pennell's clever and facile pencil, they are full of thought, elaborate detail and wondrous originality. There are some forty of these, all remarkable for their everlasting variety and high artistic excellence.
Dr. Hermione (Blackwood) is rather an idyl than a novel, and would have done better still if it had been cast in the form of a comedy. The still anonymous author who followed up Zit and Zoë by Lady Bluebeard possesses the gift, rare among novelists, of writing sparkling dialogue. The quickly changing scenes in the last chapter of Dr. Hermione, with its sprightly chatter would serve the poor player almost as it stands. It is not too late to think about the comedy. In the meanwhile the novel does very well, and if he had made his story a book for the play, we should have missed many dainty descriptions of scenery. Nothing is so good as his description of the Lake District in Autumn, unless it be his pictures of the surroundings of the Nile as it
Flows through hushed old Egypt and its sands,
Like some grave mighty thought, threading a dream.
Some Places of Note in England (Dowdeswells) have been deftly noted by a notable artist, namely, Birket Foster. From the "places of note," he has evolved some of the most delicate of harmonies. Whether he gives us a Canterbury cantata, a Richmond rondo, a Stratford symphony, a Lambeth lied, or a Tilbury toccata we are equally delighted with his choice of motivo and his brilliancy of execution. In this volume we have five-and-twenty pictures, admirably reproduced in the highest style of lithography. Mr. Birket Foster has been before the public for many years—he appeared, if we mistake not, in the early numbers of the Illustrated News: his work has been constant, and his pictures countless ever since, and yet, in the present volume, we find him better than ever.
Sporting Celebrities. The first number of this new monthly contains two excellent portraits by M. Walery. One is of the Duke of Beaufort, the other of Mr. Cholmondeley Pennell. They are accompanied by crisp well-written biographical notices. The two portraits are well worth the price charged for the Magazine. A couple of good photographs for a shilling, cannot be considered dear. In addition to this, there are twenty pages of letterpress—so altogether it is a splendid shillingsworth. Baron de Book-Worms & Co.
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
Insanitary Dust-bins.—That your servants should have thrown half a lobster, several potted meat-tins, an uneatable rabbit-pie, and all the vegetable refuse of your household, into your dust-bin, and that it should not have been "attended to" for upwards of two months, is quite sufficient to account for the intolerable odour of which you and all your neighbours on that side of the street have had reason to complain; but, as you seem to think nothing but an epidemic fever, caused by the nuisance, will rouse the Authorities, you might, by throwing in a pound or two of phosphate of lime, the same quantity of copper shavings, and a gallon or so of nitric acid, as you suggest, create such an intolerable stench, that something would have to be done, and that without delay, to preserve your entire neighbourhood from a visitation of the plague. Try it, by all means. In the meantime have a notice, as you propose, put in your kitchen window, to the effect that a champagne luncheon, and half-a-crown a head, will be provided for the dustmen if they will only call. Failing this, you might take the steps you seriously contemplate, with a view to marrying into the dust-contractor's family. This, perhaps, coupled with a series of urgent letters to the Times, would be your wisest course. But, in the present unsatisfactory state of the law, it is difficult to know how to advise you for the best. Your idea, if the worst comes to the worst, and you cannot get the Vestry to attend to it, of blowing up your dust-bin yourself with gunpowder, you might resort to as a last expedient; but, as you seem to think it might bring down your portico, and possibly the whole front of your house as well, we should advise you not to put it into execution till quite assured that your attempts to get your dust-bin emptied by some less violent means have all hopelessly failed. Anyhow, try the copper shavings and nitric acid first. We think you will find, if steadily persevered in, that they will, coupled, possibly, with some legal proceedings, settle the matter for you.
More Glory.—The fall of a fragment of a chandelier has shed an additional lustre—or a portion of a lustre—on the Brav' Général.