Judsonia weekly advance., 1921-08-04

tlon the epocn at which they won their place in world literature.
 When Sue was born the novel was still a comparatively new product. There had, 1t is true, been books be- fore its advent, for the invention of printing had put reading matter with in the reach of the people; but until fiction made it's appearance most of the material published had been of religious trend, consisting of lives of the saints, and treatises on theology and science. Even then such volumes were costly, to say nothing of their be- ing of far too ponderous a nature to answer the cravings of a public scant- fly educated and desirous for enter tainment at time when amusements were few.
 Therefore, when out of this arid lit erary waste the novel sprung into be- ing, we can easily picture the eager- ness with which the hungering masses fell upon it. Here, at last, was some thing human and within the scope of the everyday mans understanding; here, in fascinating form, were pre-
 
 the life with (which he was familiar, but also adventures in those mystic realms of romance that he had imag- ined. It was like water to the thirstyi
 Hence, if when reading the very early novels, or even those of the later decades to which Sue belonged, we are conscious of stilted dialogue, and mel >~odramatic and improbable situations, let us remember that the writers of this era were to no small extent pi- oneers in al sparsely trodden wilder ness of art; and that when "the world was so 4ew and alp in literary de- Veloprnent it is marvel that their handiwork has endured for SC many years. Sues Mysteries of Paris" penned in 1S42, seems touched with the fires of everlasting youth. Indeed, it must possess the charm of universal appeal or it would never have held it's place for almost century. When we consider how few of our present-day novels survive second season, we are forced to doff our caps to this artist of the past, who, like Stevenson, so we'll merits the sobriquet of "Tusitala, Teller. of Tales" and the secret of whose spell lies in the eternal child in us answering to the soreeries of master story-teller.
 The book in question is a labyrinth of exciting and dramatic happenings, which, cleverly woven together, em- body the authors unique philosophy that the quest for good may be made quite as seductive a crusade as the quest for evil; the only difference ly- ing in the goal toward which one turns his steps. Certainly the story bears out this theory, for we are swept along by the magician's cunning page after page, chapter after chapter, un- til his creative resources seem limit less. Never for an instant does our interest lag. When the book is fin- ished we feel that had Sue so or dained he could have evolved just as many more plots with an equal de- gree of ease.
 He opens his narrative with scene in the slums of Paris, where Fleur-de- Marie, a beautiful girl of the streets, ls being viciously attacked by the Flasher, brute of the underworld. trivial quarrel between the two has arisen and the man is about to strike this helpless creature when suddenly a stranger intervenes, and by superior strength and wit lays low the assail- ant. The newcomer is a M. Rudolph, who styles himself painter of fans. 1crh Iyi mo the jargon of the pavements, we speed fly realize that he is something other than he pretends; and in this suppo- sition we are soon justified, for pres ently we learn that in truth M. Ru- dolph is no other parsonage than his royal highness, the grand duke of Ger olstein in disguise. The Slasher, how ever, does not know this, and neither does his pretty companion, and we soon find the three cronies seated ami ably at cafe table relating for one another's amusement the stories of their past lives.
 Rudolph has little to say. He is an artisan, he declares. The Slasher frankly admits himself to be an es- capped convict who has served in the galleys for murder; but with the in- consistency of human nature he an nounces that while he has no scruples against murder, he will not steal. Fleur-de-Marie, or Goualeuse as her comrades term her, is a sixteen-year old waif who has never known any parent save Screech Owl, cruel wom- an from whom she fled when child :; nor has she had any home save prison walls and the haunts of vice. Never theless, despite her vile surround ings she has kept her soul untainted and is essentially pure of heart, being the victim of environment and circum- stances rather than it's votary.
 Observing this, Rudolph, whose aim Is ever to give another chance to those ln whom good IS apparent, transplants her to a home in the country, where,