. The Argonaut. r Walter Scott, and many otherswho have attempted successfully to write forthe child such things as shall be acceptablein themselves while sowing the seeds for men-tal growth in the future. Parentswould dowell to look at this volume before makingthe mistake in the choice of childrens booksof confusing immaturity with idiocy. TheTreasury of Verse is profusely illustratedby Willy Pogany. Dragons Blood, by Henry Milner by the Houghton Mifflin Com-pany, Boston and New York. This powerful story proceeds in the firstplace from intimate knowledge of Chineselife—at le
. The Argonaut. r Walter Scott, and many otherswho have attempted successfully to write forthe child such things as shall be acceptablein themselves while sowing the seeds for men-tal growth in the future. Parentswould dowell to look at this volume before makingthe mistake in the choice of childrens booksof confusing immaturity with idiocy. TheTreasury of Verse is profusely illustratedby Willy Pogany. Dragons Blood, by Henry Milner by the Houghton Mifflin Com-pany, Boston and New York. This powerful story proceeds in the firstplace from intimate knowledge of Chineselife—at least of a certain section of it—andsecondly from an unusual power of dramaticpresentation. Its force is. indeed, almost ex-plosive. To find a suitable comparison we canhardly stop short of Kipling. It is a story of a young German who goesout to represent a commercial firm at one ofthe lesser Chinese ports. He is immediatelyabsorbed into the little group of white menwho are eating out their hearts in a more or. George H. Brennan, Author of Bill C. McClurg & Co. less degraded exile, keeping in touch withthemselves and with civilization by means oftheir club, where they play cards and billiards,organize concerts, and generally hate eachother with that kind of hate that comes frommutual saturation, which is perhaps the mostintolerant hate of all. But the white mansclub is practically a garrison. Outside lurkthe plague and the constant threat of Orientalsuperstition and detestation of the foreigner. Our hero has a grim reminder of the plagueon the night of his arrival. Wutzler, a Ger-man member of the club, leaves early and isheard calling for help from the street: In the wide sector of light stood Wutzler,shrinking and apologetic, like a man caught in afault, his wrinkled face eloquent of fear, his ges-ture eloquent of excuse. Round him, as round aconjuror, scores of little shadowy things moved ina huddling dance, fitfully hopping like sparrowsover spilt grain. Where
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectjournal, bookyear1877
