Obviously, the making of such a list involves a responsibility which we do not care to assume. We do not like to risk the possibility that our own particular literary prejudices might rear a barrier between two fond hearts. After all, as somebody has said, fond hearts are more than Conrads. However, we do venture the suggestion that if the young man's intentions are honorable, fifty books is far too great a number for the experiment which he has in mind. We have known many a young couple to begin life with no possession to their name but a common fondness for the poems of W. E. Henley. We have known others to marry on Kipling and repent on Shaw. Of course, it would be a great deal easier for us to advise the young man if we knew just what sort of a wife he wanted. If she likes _Dombey and Son_ and _Little Dorrit_ it seems to us fair to assume that she will be able to do a little plain mending and some of the cooking. On the other hand, if her favorite author is May Sinclair, we rather think it would be well to be prepared to provide hired help from the beginning. Should she prefer Eleanor H. Porter, we think there would be no danger in telling the paperhangers to do the bedroom in pink. After all, if she is a thoroughgoing follower of Pollyanna and the glad game, you don't really need any wall paper at all. It would still be her duty to be glad about it. But we are afraid that some of this is frivolous and beside the point, and we assume that the young man truly wants serious advice to help him in the solution of his problem. Since marriage is at best a gamble, we advise him earnestly not to compromise his ardor with any dreary round of fifty books. Let him chance all on a single volume. And what shall it be? Personally, we have always been strongly attracted by persons who liked _Joan and Peter_, but we know that there are excellent wives and mothers who find this particular novel of Wells's dreary stuff. There are certain dislikes which might well serve as green signals of caution. A young man, we think, should certainly go slow if she does not like _An Inland Voyage_, or _Virginibus Puerisque_, or _The Ebb Tide_ or _Sentimental Tommy_. He should take thought and ask himself repeatedly, "Is this really love?" if she confesses a distaste for _Tono Bungay_, or _Far from the Madding Crowd_, or _Cæsar and Cleopatra_. And if she can find no interest in _Conrad in Quest of His Youth_, or _Mary Olivier_ or _Huckleberry Finn_, let him by all means stipulate a long engagement. But if she dislikes _Alice in Wonderland_ let the young man temporize no more. It is then his plain duty to tell her that he has made a mistake and that what he took for love was no more than the passing infatuation of physical passion. A Bolt from the Blue JOHN ROACH STRATON died and went to his appointed kingdom where he immediately sought an audience with the ruler of the realm.