In The Wrong Box Mr. Stevenson has done for pure farce what in "Treasure Island" he did for pure melodrama; he has made literature of it. It is impossible to exaggerate the interest of being guided through the laughable labyrinth which the almost necromantic ingenuity of Messrs. Stevenson and Osbourne has constructed here, by a cicerone whose felicity of epithet and phrase, knowledge of the world, picturesque philosophy, and power of portraiture are as magical as are Mr. Stevenson's.

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