The Demagogue. By Carlton Dawe. (Hodder and Stoughton. Gs.)—Mr. Carlton
Dawe's books are more exciting reading when he is dealing with adventures in China than when he is describing modern life in London. The central figure of his story, however, lacks neither pathos nor interest. "The Demagogue" has many -excellent theeries of life, which he airs weekly in the Park,—his Ute noire is the Romin Catholic Church, and no wonder, considering the domestic discomfort which results from his wife having embraced • the faith of Rome. Mr. Dawe must have a poor opinion of the astute- ness of that powerful organisation if he considers that such a state of things would be allowed to follow the "'version " (we cannot, to paraphrase Queen Elizabeth, say conversion, and we will not say perversion) of a Protestant wife. The dark hints of the relations between the wife and Father Ingestre weaken the story in its aspect as a tract against the Roman Catholic Church in England. The fine lady of the story is not very wall drawn, and the speech which is put into her mouth is ridiculous. No fashionable beauty, though she might say a few sympathetic words which would immensely please her audience, could produce at a first attempt the polished and oratorical periods which roll so smoothly from the unpractised -lips of Lady Casterton. However, in spite of its many faults, the -book is readable, though, as we have intimated above, we rather wish that Mr. Carlton Dawe would confine himself to writing stories of • the Far East.
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