“DICKENSII nihil a me alienum puto,” quoth the Baron, taking up A Week’s Tramp in Dickens-Land.  By W.K.  HUGHES, F.L.S., with Illustrations by F.G.  KITTON, and Others, published by Messrs. CHAPMAN AND HALL.  Ahem!  The frisky KITTON, having several tales to play with (probably some relation to the Cat-’o-nine-tails, eh?), has done his work well; and the same may be said for Others.  The work can be recommended as a book of pictorial reference for Dickensian students, but otherwise it is—­ahem—­superfluous.  If this kind of trading on the name of DICKENS continues, we shall probably become HUGHES’d to seeing such announcements as, “Shortly to appear,—­The Collected Bills of the Butcher and Baker of Charles Dickens; Upper Storeys of Houses in whose Neighbourhood Charles Dickens resided; Some Tradesmen’s Accounts, Receipted and Returned with Thanks, Autographically, to Charles Dickens, &c., &c.

[Illustration:  The Light that Failed; or, a Thief in the Candle.]

A sad story, picturesquely commenced, and powerfully ended, is RUDYARD KIPLING’S The Light that Failed.  But, between these two extremes, the conversations have the deadly fault of being wearisome, and, as to the manner of their conversation, were the Baron compelled to listen to much of it, life would indeed not be worth living.  The women-kind in it are all detestable; there is none of them that doeth good in the novel, no, not one.  It becomes gradually gloomier and gloomier, and, indeed, it is well styled The Light that Failed.  Since DAUDET’S Jack, the Baron calls to mind no book more pitiful, no characters more heartless, and no sadder ending.  Clever, of course; artistic, equally so; but—­well, the Baron’s advice to his enemies is, Go in heavily for Christmas festivities, have an orgy of plum-pudding, creams, sweets, and mince-pies, and, on the day after Boxing Day, stay indoors, and read The Light that Failed.

In the Baron’s office there are several departments, where SAM the Skipper for novels, CHILD HAROLD for children’s books, and PETER the Salt for tales of the sea, are specially busy at Christmas time.  To quote the ancient song of the “Mistletoe Bough":—­

  “The Baron’s retainers were Blythe and Gay;”

and so are they now, as the Ladies BELINDA BLYTHE and GRISELDA GAY undertake a considerable proportion of such seasonable reviewing as is more or less expected from the BARON DE BOOK-WORMS about this season of the year.  But the Baron reviews the reviewers, and presents the public with only the pick of the basket.  Now, once for all, the Baron gives notice hereby and herewith nevertheless and all to the contrary notwithstanding, that neither he nor his retainers will take notice of Christmas puzzles, such as, for example, the bilious-looking “Spots Puzzle,” which ought to be dedicated to Little Red Riding Hood, as it is brought out by “WOLF.”  The Baron cannot listen