We have intentionally laid more stress upon the great fact of union than upon the details of the constitution, and we are entitled in so doing to rest upon the authority of Lord Courtney, who pointed out that the Bill comes from South Africa, and is founded on an intimate knowledge of local circumstances. "Every principle. therefore, which led me to resist the former scheme of South African union leads me to accept what is now proposed." At the same time we must agree with him, and with other speakers, that the Bill does not afford a satisfactory or permanent solution of the native question. We regret that the liberal spirit of the Cape Constitution has not been infused into the union. The natives in South Africa are showing considerable aptitude for education, and are beginning to engage not only in trade, but in the professions. They far outnumber the whites, and they

The Economist.

cannot be safely excluded from all share in the government. We sincerely hope that in some way or other steps will be taken to give some sort of representation to educated natives, and also that the guarantees which have hitherto existed for the good government of the Basutos will not be whittled away. A great deal no doubt depends upon the interpretation that is given to the words "European descent," which are a qualification for sitting in the Parliament of the South African union. In Cuban society everyone who is not absolutely black is treated as white, whereas in the United States everyone who is not absolutely white is treated as black. We imagine that in South Africa a tolerable compromise will be found, and that the native races, as well as those of European descent, will ultimately have reason to rejoice in the new Constitution.

Lovers of poetry in general, and students of Oriental religions and literature in particular owe a debt of gratitude to Mr. L. Cranmer-Byng, whose volume called "A Lute of Jade," published in the Wisdom of the East Series by E. P. Dutton & Co., introduces them to charming bits of verse by Chinese poets, some of them dating back to 1700 years before Christ, and none later than the tenth century of the Christian era. The human heart universal breathes through these exquisite lines, its aspirations, its love of the beautiful, its sense of the fleeting and tragic. Let this bit, "The Grass," from Po Chu-i, who wrote about A.D. 772, serve as a specimen: How beautiful and fresh the grass returns!

When golden days decline, the meadow burns;

Yet autumn suns no hidden root have slain,

The spring winds blow, and there is grass again.

Green rioting on olden ways it falls: The blue sky storms the ruined city walls;

Yet since Wang Sun departed long ago, When the grass blooms both joy and fear I know.

A genuine Indian fairy tale, or an Indian fairy tale written in conformity to Indian beliefs is instructive, but fortunately children are unaware of it, and girls and boys will read Mr. Theodore Roberts's "Flying Plover," and never dream that they are learning how an Indian thinks, and wherein his

mind differs from theirs, and how much younger is his race than theirs. Flying Plover is the orphan son of a chief, and Mr. Roberts repeats six of the stories related to him by his grandmother, Squat-by-the-Fire, a wise old woman reputed a magician. Some are authentic Glooskap tales, the others perfectly harmonize with them, and the one telling how fire came to the Indians, and its effect upon their life is extraordinary in its ingenuity. The volume is illustrated and decorated by Mr. Charles Livingston Bull and has a cover that no small pale face could behold without covetousness. L. C. Page & Co.

The old Norse Eddas and Sagas are an unfailing treasury of poetry and adventure; told and retold by different writers and for different purposes, they never lose their charm. The latest writer to draw upon them is E. M. Wilmot-Buxton, who has grouped in an attractive volume, intended for young readers, but not ostentatiously written down to their supposed capacity, twenty-five "Stories of Norse Heroes" as told by the Northmen. Beginning with the legend of "How All Things Began" and closing with that of "How the End of All Things Came About" they include many stirring tales of the adventures of gods and heroes. There are sixteen illustrations. T. Y. Crowell & Company, who publish Mr. Wilmot-Buxton's book, publish also, in uniform binding, a story for young readers called "In Nature's School" by Lillian Gask. In this story, a school boy, who has been made unhappy by the bullying propensities of his mates, finds unexpected relief in a kind of dream which comes to him in the woods, in the appearance of a kindly figure of Nature, who leads him among the marvels of bird and beast life, and permits him to learn from their own lips the story of their life, habits and

adventures. The story is intended to combine instruction with entertainment, and it is illustrated by Dorothy Hardy.

Those who in childhood enjoyed Mrs. Mabel Osgood Wright's books about birds and beasts, and in youth laughed and smiled over "Barbara's" "Garden of a Commuter's Wife" and its successors, will be surprised to learn from the title page of "Poppea of the Post Office," the latest "Barbara" book that the two authors are one. The story is in every way different from anything written under either name, being the tale of a pretty foundling, a "lady baby," adopted by a New England village postmaster and so tenderly reared that she does not guess that she has no right to call him "Daddy" until she has grown to gracious young womanhood. About her are grouped marked but not exaggerated figures, some rustic, some the educated gentlefolk of an American village, but all kind to her, all alike desirous of preventing her from missing the kindred of whom she knows nothing. She has many sorrows, for "Barbara" has no scruples as to fatal accidents, and the number of doctors who momentarily appear in attendance on one character or another is astounding, but, happiness and wealth come in the end, and the faithful Daddy still survives when the story closes. This is one of the Lincoln books, and the two glimpses of the President are sufficiently characteristic to be true. The Macmillan Company.

Spain is still a land of mystery to the American novel reader and the Cathedral of Toledo as it is shown by Senor Vincent Blasco Ibanez in "The Shadow of the Cathedral," is wonderfully strange to him. That the huge pile should swarm in hardly suspected upper stories with watchmen, altar

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guardians and other petty officials and their families, seems almost incredible, but once the idea is accepted, the unique life unbound by ordinary custom, almost primitive in its freedom from secular conventionalities but enslaved by ecclesiastical usage, becomes oddly interesting. The hero, youngest son of a family for centuries in the service of the cathedral, and having its home in this colony, is intended for the priesthood, but leaves the seminary during the September Revolution through which he passes as an officer in the rebel army. When that turbulent body is dispersed he is captured and undergoes imprisonment seasoned with Spanish cruelty; when released he enters upon the career of a Revolutionary orator and is highly scandalized to find himself hunted to and fro by the soldiers and by the officers of the law; he resents this, being satisfied that his motives are noble, betakes himself to Paris, comes under the influence of Renan and soon loses his religion. For years he preaches the doctrine of revolution, fleeing from one place to another, associating with the outlaws of all nations, an entirely self-satisfied company each assured of his own virtue, frugal, industrious, self-denying, and without ceasing proclaiming the beauty of disorder. From all this he at last returns to the cathedral, the home of his ancestors, desiring quiet and protection and obtaining it from his good, pious, stay-athome brother. The author's picture of the Spanish priesthood as immoral from the cardinal-archbishop of Toledo, to the humblest secular can be properly judged only by his own countrymen. It is appalling, but no worse than the view of the Spanish American priesthood freely presented to the Catholic summer school by American and Irish priests. Whether it be true or false, the artistic contrast between the superb mass of wonderful

architecture reared by piety, and the sordid cloud of sin enveloping it is impressive. To the poorer servants of the edifice, the descendants of generations reared on cathedral traditions, the revolutionist preaches his theories of government, of religion, of political economy; preaches so eloquently that when the great statue of the Virgin is decorated with all her jewels for a high holiday, they agree to steal the gems and gold that they may attain their human rights by dividing the spoil among themselves. Too late, the revolutionist perceives whither his teachings lead, and endeavors to dissuade his disciples from robbery, but they strike him down, in self defence, and depart with the booty, leaving him to the suspicion of the authorities, but death takes him before he fully understands who are his slayers. The author following the French tradition, stands quite aloof from his story, pleading for none, reprehending none. The hero at first seeming to be the product of Catholicity is at last seen as the product partly of national insincerity caused by the desire to achieve the appearance of self-control, and partly by the deliberate desertion of the highest righteousness. The clergy are evil not because they are Catholics but because they have allowed themselves to neglect their faith and to strive towards the pagan national ideal. The author is silent: if a revolutionist reader should choose to call the hero a saint, it is naught to him; his work is done. He has shown the present condition of a structure reared for holy purposes, hallowed by myriad prayers, sanctified by the love of innumerable Christians. At the same time he has shown an emblem of Spain. The fault in his work is that he has quite neglected the educated pious, a force existent everywhere in Christendom, the ten men who shall save the city. E. P. Dutton & Co.