Life — August 18, 1887 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

90 SOME SUMMER PUBLICATIONS. 6c BY THE WAY, an Idler’s Diary,” by “F. F.," isa volume which fills a long felt want. The reading public, we are glad to note, are gradually becoming too fond of books to use their pages for pressing autumn leaves or for hair-curling purposes, and it is an undoubted relief to bot- anists and straight-banged maidens to find here a volume whose chief utility consists in its adaptability to the purposes named. “F. F." has certainly shown much good sense in choosing for his title-page sentiment: “'Tis pleasant business making books when other people furnish brains,” but it is to be regretted that “other people" had not furnished “F. F.” with sufficient sense to hide the light of his “ Idler's Diary" under the bushel of oblivion. . * . HE Messrs. Peterson, who suffer under the great disad- vantage of doing business on Chestnut Street, Phila- delphia—a combination which would seem to be ruinous— have a very pleasant way of printing exhaustive criticisms of their publications on the title-page of the publications in question. The latest emanation from this house is the “ Princess Roubine, a Russian Story,” by Henry Gréville. It is plea- sant to learn from a perusal of the title-page that the “ Prin- cess Roubine ” is a book that all will read and vastly relish. It calls the reader's attention to a fact which otherwise might escape him, and sets at rest any notion he may have that the book before him is hardly worth the time it will take to read it. It is considerate also in the publisher to tell us in advance that the book is one of the most delicious and captivating novels of the day, for this enables us to speak of the book to our friends in such manner as to give the impression that we are familiar with current literature. The criticism coming from one who is so conservative as to ply his trade in the locality above mentioned cannot fail to inspire the reader's confidence, and convince him that if he considers the “Princess Roubine”’ little better than trash, there is probably some error in his literary judgment. The fact that the publisher has invested his money in the enterprise is certainly a proof of the sincerity of his criticism, and those who find fault with the principle involved in send- ing publications into the world bearing a certificate of excel- lence are the very people who cavil because a government issues a five-cent nickel of the same size and general appear- ance as a five-dollar gold piece, yet fail to place the denom- ination of the coin on the head or tail thereof, so that sharpers by means of a little gilt and enterprise may reap the reward of the just. ce HE VILLAGE MYSTERY,” by Dr. Benjamin F. Mason, is a scientific and historical romance, which opens on a soft, balmy afternoon in May, when a young man with a small arched foot, planted firmly on a rock, stands beneath the shadow of a willow, fishing. - LIFE: He is apparently an odd young man, for his ringlets hang mischievously over his strong white forehead, beneath which, startling to relate, shine his clear hazel eyes. The author does not record the fact, but we cannot help having a weird, uncanny idea that when the young man smiled he showed his teeth. His luck is apparently bad, for he only catches a drowning maiden, with a rare sweet face and red lips around her mouth, Opening with such extraordinary and incomprehensible feat- ures, the “ Village Mystery " gets more and more mysterious every moment, and when it is finally laid aside at the end of part first, there is still the mystery—which part two may serve to unravel—why did Dr. Benjamin F. Mason write and Frederick D. Whiting, of 44 College Place, New York, pub- lish the “ Village Mystery ; or, the Spectre of St. Arlyle,” and invoke government aid to keep piratical literary men from reproducing the tale ? Wilful waste makes woeful want. JK. Bangs. Mrs. Muldoon: AW, BiDDY, LOOK AT THE BLACK EYE YOU'R GOT; WASN'T YEZ BETTER OFF ON THREE DOLLARS A WEEK AT SERVICE? Mrs, O'Brien: WaT 1F MIKE DO BATE ME, I'M ME OWN MIS- TRESS NOW, comicbooks.com