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With the Land Question staring us in the face, Folk of the Furrow (SMITH ELDER) should attract the attention of those who wish thoroughly to understand what the agricultural labourer wants and why he wants it.  Mr. CHRISTOPHER HOLDENBY is no amateur, for as Mr. STEPHEN REYNOLDS has lived with fishermen and shared their daily lives so he has lodged in labourers’ cottages and hoed and dug with the best (and worst) of them.  The result is a book that is stamped with the hall-mark of a great sincerity; and three facts at least can be gathered from it by the very dullest of gleaners.  First, and I think foremost, that the decencies of life cannot be observed if children of very various ages are to be crowded into cottages too small to hold them; secondly, that it is useless to expect morality from youths who have few or no amusements provided for them; thirdly, that the passing of the old families and the advent of the week-end “merchant princes” do not make a change for the better.  All which may be stale news, but after reading this book I think that you will admit that Mr. HOLDENBY has contrived to make an old tale very impressive.  In some instances it is true that I could bring evidence directly in opposition to his, but on the whole he deserves well for the way in which he has won the confidence of a class naturally suspicious and silent, and for his manner of stating his case.  Had I for my sins to cram our M.P.’s for the debates that lie before them, I should feed them liberally upon Folk of the Furrow.

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[Illustration:  CONSCIENTIOUS REFEREE ORDERING HIMSELF OFF THE GROUND FOR BEING HASTY TO AN IMPERTINENT PLAYER.]

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TO MR. CHAMBERLAIN

ON HIS RETIREMENT FROM PUBLIC LIFE.

  Not yet the end; only the end of strife. 
    But now—­while still the brave unwearied heart,
    Fixed upon England, fain to keep its part
      In her Imperial life,

  Beats with the old unconquerable pride—­
    Now leave to younger limbs the dust and palm,
    And let the weary body seek the calm
      That comes with eventide.

  There take your rest within the sunset glow,
    All feuds forgotten of your fighting days,
    Circled with love and laurelled with the praise
      Of friend and ancient foe.

  O.S.