most repulsive character is,
perhaps, what the describers in fiction of modern society need even more
than skill in dissection. To observe and dissect what is corrupt is
easier than to make the record of corruption presentable. Mrs. Praed's
own tale _The Bond of Wedlock_, with all its undoubted cleverness, its
realism and dramatic strength, fails in its due impression as a picture
of latter-day English morals because it is too sordid, too completely
devoid of any of the better qualities of humanity.

To see Mrs. Praed in her most agreeable and natural moods one must
revert to the novels in which the scenery and people of her own country
are described. In _Miss Jacobsen's Chance_ we have her liveliest
example of humour and caricature, in _The Head Station_ her most
cheerful pictures of country life, and in _Christina Chard_ some account
of the society with which colonists of wealth surround themselves in
London. The latter story has several finely dramatic scenes and is a
sample of the author's mature work. Hers is the most comprehensive view
that we have of the social and political life of the Antipodes, and for
this and for her minutely recorded knowledge of her own sex she will
long continue to hold and deserve a foremost place in Australian
literature.

TASMA.

Between the writers who profess not to see anything individual in the
life of Australia and those others who confine themselves to describing
a few of its principal scenes and types of character, Tasma holds a
middle and independent place. She is absolutely without predilections
and hobbies. Her materials are chosen for some quality of
picturesqueness rather than for the purpose of illustrating any phase of
life at the Antipodes or elsewhere. So little are some of her novels
concerned with the external appearances of the country that the scene of
their action might easily be transferred to almost any part of Great
Britain or America.

Incidentally she has given a few strongly-sketched views of places--of
Melbourne in midsummer, with its buildings of sombre bluestone and
stucco, and streets swept by dust-laden hot winds; of Riverina, arid and
drought-stricken; and of the peaceful beauty of rural Tasmania, the home
of her own youth--but these and other descriptions from the same pen are
slight compared with similar work in the stories of Kingsley,
Boldrewood, and Mrs. Campbell Praed.

Tasma, as one of the younger writers, has rightly seen that, fo