The Secret of the Old House, by EVELYN EVERETT GREEN, who evidently can’t keep a secret to himself, will be so no longer when the children have satisfied their curiosity by reading the book.

My faithful “Co.” declares that he has been recently hard at work novel-reading.  He has been revelling in an atmosphere of romance.  He has been moved almost to tears by Lady Hazleton’s Confession, by Mrs. KENT SPENDER, which, he says, includes, amongst many moving passages, some glimpses of Parliamentary life. Friend Olivia, in one bulky volume, takes the reader back to the days of CROMWELL, when people said “hath,” instead of “has,” and “pray resolve me truly,” instead of “don’t sell me;” and “Mr. JOHN MILTON” played upon the organ.  It has a fine old crusty Puritan flavour about it, which, however, does not prevent the hero and heroine, in the last page, reading a letter together, “with smiles, and little laughs, and sweet asides, and sweeter kisses.”  Altogether, a book to read when a library does not contain WALTER SCOTT, ALEXANDRE DUMAS pere, G.P.R.  JAMES, or HARRISON AINSWORTH. Two Masters deals with passages in the life of a young lady who is described as “a Boarding-school Miss” in Volume I., and “a young she-fiend” in Volume III.  However, it is only right to say, that the last compliment is paid to her by a gentlemanly murderer, who takes poison and a cigarette, with a view to escaping a justly-deserved death on the gallows.  From this it may be seen, that the novel is at times slightly sensational.  Fearing that his Christmas might be saddened by this last ghastly incident, were not the impression created by it partially removed by less highly-seasoned fare, my faithful “Co.” has also read Mary Hamilton, a Tale for Girls, My Schoolfellows, and Bonnie Boy’s Soap Bubble.  He considers the first admirably adapted to the comprehension of the readers to whom it is addressed, only the girls, he says, should be very young girls. My Schoolfellows he intends reading again when he has reached his second childhood, when he fancies he will be better pleased with the humours of “Guzzling Gus” and “Ned Never Mind.”  In conclusion, he admits that he is a little doubtful about the merits or demerits of Bonnie Boy’s Soap Bubble.  He explains, that while he was reading it he “fell a thinking,” and that when he woke up, the volume was lying on the floor.  Since then, he adds, he really has not had the leisure to pick it up.

The Snake’s Pass, by BRAM STOKER, M.A. (SAMPSON LOW), is a simple love-story, a pure idyl of Ireland, which does not seem, after all, to be so distressful a country to live in.  Whiskey punch flows like milk through the land; the loveliest girls abound, and seem instinctively to be drawn towards the right man.  Also there are jooled crowns to be found by earnest seekers, with at least one large packing-case crammed with rare coins.  The love-scenes