_Deadman's Rock._ By "Q." Have Messrs. LOUIS STEVENSON and RIDER HAGGARD combined under the signature of "Q." to write at all events the first part of the weird and exciting Romance entitled _Deadman's Rock_? If not let those two authors look to their laurels. There is much in this book to remind the reader of _Treasure Island_, especially the fiendish Sailor's uncouth chaunt, "Sing hey for the deadman's eyes, my lads," which, however, is not a patch upon Mr. STEVENSON'S "Ho! Ho! Ho! and a bottle of rum," in _Treasure Island_. Then there is one line in "Q.'s" story, "And here a strange thing happened," which must call to mind Mr. RIDER HAGGARD'S patent of "and now a strange thing happened." "Q."--rious coincidence, isn't it? But a "coincidence" is not likely to annoy Mr. HAGGARD. In the first part the most impatient reader will find that he cannot afford to skip a couple of lines without detriment to the narrative, but in the second part he may skip handfuls, as the lovemaking is common-place, and time is wasted over the tragedy which is written by one of the heroes, and over the description of their life in London. But on the other hand the scene in the gambling-house is exciting and artistically worked up,--and coming immediately after this, the lovemaking is uncommonly tame,--and the scene at the Theatre is also very good, but after this there is a lull in the excitement until the end approaches, when there is one very strong situation. But the actual finish is weak. So the summing up is that the first part is first-rate, and the second part is, on the whole, second-rate. But who is "Q."? That is the Q. and what is the A.? _Deadman's Rock_ is not a good book for very nervous persons or children: for the latter _Almond Rock_ would be far preferable. * * * * * THE MUSE IN MANACLES. (_By an Envious and Irritable Bard, after reading "Ballades and Rondeaus," just published, and wishing he could do anything like any of them._) Bored by the Ballade, vexed by Villanelle, Of Rondeau tired, and Triolet as well! THE BALLADE. (_In Bad Weather._) Oh! I'm in a terrible plight-- For how can I rhyme in the rain? 'Tis pouring from morn until night: So bad is the weather again, My language is almost profane! Though shod with the useful galosh, I'm racked with rheumatical pain-- I think that a Ballade is bosh! I know I am looking a fright; That knowledge, I know, is in vain; My "brolly" is not water-tight, But hopelessly rended in twain And spoilt by the rude hurri_cane_! Though clad in a stout mackintosh, My temper I scarce can restrain-- I think that a Ballade is bosh! Oh, I'm an unfortunate wight! The damp is affecting my brain; My woes I would gladly recite, In phrases emphatic and plain, Your sympathy could I obtain. I don't think my verses will wash, They're somewhat effete and inane-- I think that a Ballade is bosh! ENVOY.