Miss MILLS YOUNG tells us that _John Musgrave_, the middle-aged hero of _Coelebs_ (LANE), "was not a prig, but he came perilously near to being one at times." Well, if anyone ought to know, it is his creator, so I will accept her word for it, though for myself I should have called him a first-class prig. The little village in which he lived his bachelor existence was invaded by some up-to-date people who took the Hall, and proceeded to liven up things. _Mrs. Chadwick_ freely shocked the poor man; she smoked, was a reckless conversationalist and had modern ideas, all which disturbed the decorous manner of his life. Moreover, she had taken upon herself the heavy task of finding him a wife, and _John's_ phlegmatic heart began to flutter when he saw _Peggy_, her lady-gardener and niece, standing on a ladder, in blue trousers. He was incensed by such apparel, but he was also intrigued. From that moment his number, as they say, was up. Apart from a dog-incident, which is far too prolonged, and some rather cheap sarcasm at the expense of a wretched spinster, this tale of _John's_ conversion from something drier than dust to a human being is neatly told. All the same I prefer Miss YOUNG'S South African stories. * * * * * My conjecture about _The Magic Gate_ (HUTCHINSON) is that its author, MAUD STEPNEY RAWSON, found herself with two stories to choose from, one of the Gate itself, and another of the romance of _Lydia_ and _John Wodrush_. In my opinion she chose the wrong one. The history of the _Wodrush_ elopement, compressed to a couple of pages, seems to me far more original and interesting than the present rather unwieldy tale. _The Magic Gate_ is a war-novel confessed, and I can only fancy that the thronging new sensations of the past three years have proved a little too much for Mrs. RAWSON'S sense of form. She is so anxious that her heroine and her readers shall miss nothing of it all that in the result the plot is lost in a maze of incidents that lead nowhere. The effect produced on a small country society by the early phases of the War is shown deftly enough. But perhaps posterity will find in such a record a more compelling interest than we can to whom it is still so familiar in every unforgettable detail. One other ground of complaint I have against the book is that its most original and attractive character, the American woman to whose generosity _Jennet_ owes her occupancy of Fullbrook Manor, is banished at an early page, and submarined just when I was looking for her reappearance. Hers is yet another story with which Mrs. RAWSON might have entertained me better than by this of _The Magic Gate_, which I found a trifle creaky on its hinges. * * * * *