Every day that passes
    Filling out the year
  Leaves the wicked Kaiser
    Harder up for beer.

I like the quatrain, of course; who, knowing the “Incorrigibles,” doesn’t?  But I did not like that reiterated word “joyous.”

* * * * *

I should certainly have supposed that recent history had discounted popular interest in the monarchies of make-believe; in other words, that when real sovereigns have been behaving in so sensational a manner one might expect a slump in counterfeits.  But it appears that Mr. H.B.  MARRIOTT WATSON is by no means of this opinion.  His latest story, The Pester Finger (SKEFFINGTON), shows him as Ruritanian as ever.  As usual we find that distressful country, here called Varavia, in the throes of dynastic upheaval, which centres, in a manner also not without precedent, in the figure of a young and beautiful Princess.  This lady, the last of her race, had been adopted as ward—­on, I thought, insufficient introduction—­by the hero, Sir Francis Vyse.  The situation was further complicated by the fact that in his youth he had been the officer of the guard who ought to have prevented the murder of Sonia’s august parents, and didn’t.  Quite early I gave up counting how many times Sir Francis and his fair ward were set upon, submerged, imprisoned and generally knocked about.  You never saw so convulsed a courtship; for I will no longer conceal the fact that, when he was not more strenuously engaged, he soon began to regard Sonia with a softening eye.  And as Sonia herself was growing up to womanhood, or, in Mr. WATSON’S elegant phrase, “muliebrity claimed her definitely”—­well, he is an enviable reader for whom the last page will hold any considerable surprise.

* * * * *

“ETIENNE,” in an introductory note to A Naval Lieutenant, 1914-1918 (METHUEN), gives an excellent reason for wishing to record his impressions of the “sea affair.”  He was in H.M.S.  Southampton during the earlier part of the War, and “on all the four principal occasions when considerable German forces were encountered in the North Sea, her guns were in action.”  Very naturally he desired to do honour to this gallant light cruiser, and I admire prodigiously the modest way in which he has done it.  “ETIENNE” is not a stylist; a professor of syntax might conceivably be distressed by his confusion of prepositions; but apart from this detail all is plain sailing—­and fighting.  I have read no more thrilling account of the Battle of Jutland than is to be found here.  The author does it so well because he tells his story with great simplicity and without what I believe he would call “windiness.”  Best of all, he has a nice sense of humour, and would even, I believe, have discovered the funny side of Scapa, if there had been one.  “ETIENNE,” whose short stories of naval life were amusing, makes a distinct advance in this new work.