a suspicion that this work is
really _Joan's_ tee shot, and that after a notable recovery, which on
the best of her present form I can safely prophesy, she will reach her
green year next time.

* * * * *

Mrs. T.P. O'CONNOR has written a fascinating book. _My Beloved South_
she calls it, and PUTNAMS publish it. There is not a lifeless page
in the 427 that make up a bountiful feast. Every one contains vivid
reproductions of incidents in social life in the South "befo' de
wa'" and after. At the outset we make the acquaintance of a typical
Southron, Mrs. O'CONNOR's grandfather, Governor of Florida when it
was still a Territory, with native Indians fighting fiercely for their
land and homes. Mrs. O'CONNOR was, of course, not to the fore in those
early days. But so steeped is she in lore of the South, much of it
gained from the lips of nurses and out-door servants, so keen is her
sympathy, so quick and true her instinct that she is able to revivify
the old scenes and reproduce the atmosphere of the time. The darkey
nurse of earliest childhood lives again, sometimes bringing with
her plantation songs like "Voodoo-Bogey-Boo," quaintly musical. Many
passages of the grandfather's conversations are preserved, in which we
may detect the voice of the gifted granddaughter. But the influence of
heredity is strong, more especially "down South." Also there are many
charming stories redolent of the South. I was about to mention the
page on which will be found the thrilling history of a mule aptly
named "Satan." On reflection I won't spoil the reader's pleasure in
unexpectedly coming upon it somewhere about the middle of the book.
Nobody--man or woman, girl or boy--who begins to read _My Beloved
South_ will skip a page. So the story cannot be overlooked.

* * * * *

In _Lost Diaries_ (DUCKWORTH) Mr. MAURICE BARING travels by an easy
road to humour, and he does not pound it with too laborious feet. This
is perhaps a fortunate thing, for a farcical reconstruction of history
in the light of modern sentiment and circumstances might easily tire;
a Comic History of England, for instance, is stiffer reading to-day
than GARDNER or GREEN. Sometimes, however, Mr. BARING seems to carry
to extreme lengths his conscientious avoidance of efforts to be funny;
and in the imaginary records of one or two of his subjects there is
little more to laugh at than the unaided fancy of the student