If our space permitted, we should be glad to make extended quotations in illustration of the sterling merits of this tale of our far Northwest. I shall be obliged to conclude the review with only a single extract, but must first remark that "Matka and Kotik" is illustrated with forty-two striking photographic reproductions, the beauty and excellency of which can hardly be too highly praised. To these are added thirty-four pen sketches by Miss Chloe Frances Lesley, a student in zoölogy in Leland Stanford Junior University. The illustrations which appear are adapted to the text with perfect good taste. We also note "The Calendar of the Mist-Islands." This is appended to the story proper, as is also the map of the Mist-Island. In the calendar Dr. Jordan gives a diary of the movements of the seals beginning January 1st and ending November 15th. These notes convey a great amount of scientific information in the most condensed and interesting form. It is evident that Dr. Jordan has written under a strong sense of the significance of the scenes which he wishes to portray. At the close, he says: And when Kotik came back in the spring and climbed over the broken ice-floes to take his place at Tolstoi, Atagh was sleeping yet. [It was the sleep of death!] And now the dreary days have come to the twin Mist-Islands. The ships of the Pirate Kings swarm in the Icy Sea. To the Islands of the Four Mountains they have found the way. The great Smoke-Island has ceased to roar, because it cannot keep them back. The blood of the silken-haired ones, thousand by thousand, stains the waves as they rise and fall. The decks of the schooners are smeared with their milk and their blood, while their little ones are left on the rocks to wail and starve. The cries of the little ones go up day and night from all the deserted homes, from Tolstoi and Zoltoi, from Lukanin and Vostochni, and from the sister island of Staraya Artil. Meanwhile, Kotik and Unga, Polsi and Holostiak, stand in their places, roaring and groaning, waiting for the silken-haired ones that never come. Their call comes across the green waves as I write. I turn my eyes away from Tolstoi Head and put aside my pen. It is growing very chill. The mist is rising from the Salt Lagoon, and there is no brightness on the Zoltoi sands. THE ARENA FOR SEPTEMBER. THE ARENA for September will carry to our patrons more than the usual number of superior contributions. Several of these are timely to a degree. It is intended that the great questions of the epoch--the real questions in which the people feel an instinctive concern--shall be discussed in THE ARENA with the sole purpose of elucidating them in the best possible manner, thus conducing to the betterment of the serious conditions now present in American society.