* * * * *

The publishers of Mrs. ALICE PERRIN’S new volume, Tales that are Told (SKEFFINGTON), appear to be anxious that the public should have no hesitations on the score of measure supplied, as they explain that the chief of the tales is “a short novel of over 20,000 words.”  I am content to take their word for the figure, but I agree that they were well advised to focus attention upon “Gift of God,” which, whatever its length, is an admirable and distinguished piece of writing.  The subject of it is the old question of mixed-marriage, but treated from a new aspect. Kudah Bux (the Gift in question) is the son of an adoring Mohamedan father; he goes to England for education in the law, and there falls in love with and marries the brainless daughter of a London landlady.  He is a very human and appealing figure.  The debacle that follows his return to India with so impossible a bride is told in a way that convinces.  Here Mrs. PERRIN is at her best.  Some of the shorter tales also succeed very happily in conveying that peculiar Simla-by-South-Kensington atmosphere of retired Anglo-Indian society which she suggests with such intimate understanding.  But, to be honest, the others (with the exception of one quaint little comedy of a canine ghost) are but indifferent stuff, too full of snakes and hidden treasure and general tawdriness—­the kind of Orientalism, in fact, that one used to associate chiefly with the Earl’s Court Exhibition.  Mrs. PERRIN must not mingle her genuine native goods with such Brummagem ware.

* * * * *

My idea is that when Mr. H.C.  BAILEY called his latest story The Young Lovers (METHUEN) he was doing it something less than justice.  For the width and variety of the plot make it far more than a mere love-tale. Arma virique are quite as much Mr. BAILEY’S theme as Cupid, who indeed makes a rather belated appearance at the tag end.  Before that we have a vast deal of agreeable adventuring.  The scene is set in the period of the Peninsular War; all the characters, lovers, parents and hangers-on, are more or less involved in the fluctuating fortunes of my Lord WELLINGTON.  There are spies of both sides, intrigues, abductions and what not.  Mr. BAILEY has a pretty touch for such matters; his people move with an air; and, if at times their speech seems a trifle over-burnished, dulness is far from them.  Moreover, the incidents of the campaign give scope for some vivid descriptions of war and battles, as such were in the old days before Mars put off his gold lace and sacrificed the picturesque.  Sometimes, on the other hand, it is the similarity of conditions then and now that will strike you.  For example, the passage telling how, despite apparent inactivity and home prognostications of stalemate, the confidence of the Army grew from day to day—­impossible not to see the very obvious parallel there.  In fine, Mr. BAILEY has given us another brisk and engaging romance, which, if it is not quite the kind you might expect from its title, is something a good deal better worth reading.