Pocket-books for next year are coming in. Which for choice? "_Solvitur
ambulando_" should be the resolution of the difficulty, given by
one firm at least, that firm being "WALKER." They are handy, and
conveniently pocketable, but to "The chiels amang ye taking notes,"
plain leaves, and no fruit, and no dates, we should say, would be
preferable. They're reasonable prices, and you can't expect to get 'em
for nothing; if you do--"WALKER!"
[Illustration]
The Baron highly approves of Messrs. DE LA RUE's pocket-books. It is
pleasant to have something in one's pocket, even if only a book. As
to account-books and diaries--well enter nothing therein but what has
been pleasant and profitable, and most diarians who adopt this rule
will not find their memoranda overcrowded at the end of the year.
"Letts be happy, while we can, and good luck to you, Ladies all, in
1892. Leap year!" quoth the Baron. "Over you go like the villagers in
the German story, after the sheep, into the sea of matrimony, where
may you all get on swimmingly." _À propos_, Mesdames BLYTHE and GAY
say that the Christmas Number of _Woman_, produced by a number of
women, is as full of attractive power as the Magnetic Lady herself.
"ARROWSMITH's Shilling Sensational, by 'a New Author,'" quoth the
Baron, "would, methought, serve _pour me distraire_." The "New Author"
uses the remarkably new device of a mole on the lost child's breast.
Isn't that original? _Miss Box_ and _Miss Cox_ are lost, and found.
"Have you a mole on your left breast?" "Yes!" "Then it is both of
you!" Charming! So useful is the explanation that "Hanwell is a little
village, a few miles from London." Perhaps it is the locality, there
or thereabouts, where this thrillingly interesting tale--which could
have been told in fifty pages, and needn't have been told at all--was
written. Well, well, "All's Hanwell that ends Hanwell," and "I've
galloped through a worse story before now," quoth the Baron, yawning,
and so to bed.
[Illustration: Turning over the pages.]
In _John Leech, His Life and Work_ (BENTLEY) Mr. FRITH quotes from an
anonymous but obviously not an original authority, the dictum, "It is
the happiness of such a life (as LEECH's) that there is so little to
be told of it." Mr. BENTLEY has produced two handsome volumes worthy
the reputation of his ancient and honourable house. They enshrine
admirable reproductions of some of LEECH's best work, selected by
the trained hand and sympathetic eye of Mr. FRITH. These are and will
remain the chief attractions of a work to which the Baron, in common
with the civilised world, has been looking forward to with interest,
and of whose realisation he regrets to hear so disappointing an
account from his trusty "Co." It is difficult to find dates in this
higgledy-piggledy chance-medley of facts and opinions. But we all know
that LEECH died in October, 1864. It was in _Mr. Punch's_ pages that
he found the true field for his heaven-born genius For twenty years at
least he was one of the most prominent, best known, and best liked men
in England. Surely within that period there must lie to the hand of
the dilligent seeker material for a memoir worthy to be linked with
the name of JOHN LEECH. Mr. FRITH has not given us such a book,
and criticism is only partly disarmed by the comical reiteration of
confession that he has failed in his appointed task. For what he has
to say in the way of making known to the world the man JOHN LEECH, a
very thin volume would have sufficed, even had he included the more
useful of his remarks on LEECH's work and his method. But there being
two volumes to fill, Mr. FRITH genially summarises _The Physiology of
Evening Parties_, by Mr. ALBERT SMITH; _Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour_,
and other not very high-class literature, whose only claim to being
remembered is that LEECH illustrated them. Of _The Marchioness of
Brinvilliers_, ALBERT SMITH's attempt to rival the attractions of the
_Newgate Calendar_, Mr. FRITH positively gives two whole chapters! He
allots one to the _Bon Gaultier Ballads_, and nineteen mortal pages
to telling the _Story of Miss Kilmansegg_, with copious extracts from
that easily accessible work.
This is not Memoir-writing, it is book-making. The reader can skip
these chapters, and, diligently searching, will find here and there a
ray of light thrown on this beautiful placid life, weighed down as it
was from earliest manhood by family circumstances at which Mr. FRITH
delicately hints. "Give, give!" was, truly, the cry of the daughters
of the horseleach. There are, however, several other anecdotes
contributed by personal friends of LEECH's, who have come to Mr.
FRITH's assistance, and succeed in the main in making the book an
interesting one, as giving the outside world some glimpses of a sweet
and manly character. The volumes are crowded with illustrations.
These are LEECH's own work, and make the volumes worth more than their
published price.