A Pleasure Pilgrim in South America. By C. D. Mackellar.
(John Murray. 15s. net.)—A "pleasure pilgrim" is a being whom South America is not prepared for, and does not understand. And after reading Mr. Mackellar's book we are not surprised. There is great pleasure in reading it, for it is invariably enter- taining and often instructive; and the travels themselves may please sometime, on the ha,ec olini meminiese iuvabit principle. But in the execution they must have been a grievous hardship. The bad food, the overpowering smells, the discomforts of travel, a dreadful ailment known as the Soracoh6,—these and othor troubles without number or end must have made life a burden. We ought, therefore, to be the more thankful to one who has braved and borne so much for us. Some of the scenes which Mr. Mackellar describes are curious in the extreme. After a bull- fight all the fashionable spectators crowded into the arena to take part in an impromptu feast on the flesh of one of the slaughtered bulls. He goes to a prison and sees a priest reading in a book,—probably his breviary. Why was he there P A company of soldiers had robbed him and his village. He got them all to come to Mass, and set the inhabitants to massacre them. This they did, savagely hacking them to pieces with knives, and this amiable minister of the Gospel was their leader Here, again, are things from which we might take hints. A British firm send out ponchos for sale. They make them good, but of a pattern and colour of their own choosing. The Germans send out a traveller, who observes what the people like to wear, and manages the supply accordingly. Again, a British Consul could not be found. His seclusion was intentional. His own countrymen bored him.
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