for a book to be neat and elaborate, rich not gaudy, is a rare thing. It is, of course, the booklover's dream to find a volume so proportioned, so illustrated, and so authoritative. At the other extreme of publishing, it is pleasant to note that the house of Harcourt, Brace and Howe have published several little books, on subjects of immediate interest, in paper covers, and at a price which is moderate. The experiment is worth noting and since, in this case, the books are peculiarly interesting, worth supporting. The Modern Library of Boni and Liveright has the advantage of paying no royalties to authors, and is an established and, we understand, enviable collection. The new publishers have justified themselves admirably in the past five years or so. The great houses are being held to stricter account; an altogether pleasing state of affairs.
A few German comic weeklies, including Phosphor, new to us, have arrived in this country. It is possible to import German novels and belles-lettres, but one avoids the effort, lest judgement be too hasty. The comic weeklies show all their old neatness and nicety of caricature, all the old daring and gaiety of colour. But the Navy Number of Phosphor and the run of comment in Jugend and Kladderadatsch do not satisfy us that a peace of reconciliation has been made, We would hardly risk the lives of our descendants on the friendship which a grateful and democratic Germany has for us. We would risk more on her art.
