In his latest novel, Mr. Stephens has made a radical departure from the themes of his previous successes. Turning fro past days and distant scenes, he has taken up American life of to-day as his new field, therein proving himself equally capable. Original in its conception, striking in its psychological interest, perplexing in its love problem.
, or I shouldn't have remembered his name. I'll look through the files of back numbers in my room to-night, till I find some of his work, so I can recommend him intelligently. Meanwhile, is there any editor who has something of yours in hand just now?"
"Why, yes," said Larcher, brightening, "I got a notice of acceptance to-day from the _Avenue Magazine_, of a thing about the rivers of New York City in the old days. It simply cries aloud for illustration."
"That's all right, then. Rogers mayn't have given it out yet for illustration. We'll call on him to-morrow. He'll be glad to see me; he'll think I've come to pay him ten dollars I owe him. Suppose we go now and tackle the old magazines in my room, to see what my praises of Mr. Davenport shall rest on. As we go, we'll look the gentleman up in the directory at the drug-store--unless you'd prefer to tarry here at the banquet of wit and beauty." Mr. Tompkins chuckled again as he waved a hand over the scene, which, despite his ridicule of the pose and conce
An unlikely premise for the era, characters for whom it is hard to feel empathy, slow moving and excessively wordy. For me, at least, it held few pleasures.
A mystery indeed! Quite a few unexpected plot twists.