of an adventure so great as to demand an heroic literature all its own, where it can be seen in true perspective.  Mr. OWEN deals delightfully with nights in Salonika clubland or the vagaries of King “TINO”, or with the more warlike matters culminating in the terrific actions that held the enemy’s left wing tight while our allies smashed his centre.  An excellent book, with illustrations above the average and a good map handily placed.

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Mrs. HENRY DUDENEY’S Spade Work (HURST AND BLACKETT) is a queer story queerly told.  A musician and an art-and-crafty girl, both poor and both dull, are engaged.  The musician, visiting his fiancee, now well off and installed in a comfortable village farm-house, lets the strong air of the place get into his head and falls deep in love with a yeoman’s daughter, who in turn, stimulated by this experience, straightway succumbs (at her first dance in real society, into which the great lady of the village, her patron, has introduced her) to the suggestion that she shall spend an unchaperoned night on a young blood’s yacht, with results usual in distressful fiction.  However, after many tribulations she and her musician, now duller than ever, are united, while the jilted craftswoman is left “full of ideas, sumptious (sic), a little feverish” for village industries which from my impression of her mentality I should judge would be of a devastating order.  Lovers of that charming little West-country village in which the author sets her scene will not easily forgive her for naming it and baldly cataloguing its houses and sundry points of its environment, leaving out most that is the essential of its charm.  It’s simply not done by authentic writers of fiction—­barring house-agents.

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Those who experienced the rapture of discovery in an exhibition last May of caricatures by EDMUND X. KAPP may now rejoice (supposing them to command the needful guinea) that they can recapture this pleasure through a volume of twenty-four representative drawings collected under the apt title of Personalities (SECKER).  Not for me to attempt detailed consideration, even if it were not the duty of every amateur to fall a victim at first hand to Mr. KAPP’S amazing art.  But one can hardly pass without tribute such things as the head of the Japanese poet on page 1 ("Seer of Visions"), a really wonderful example of much meaning in few lines, or the WYNDHAM LEWIS, the only drawing in the book in which a suggestion of cruelty tinges the satire.  Perhaps the most directly laughter-moving pages are those devoted to the brilliant series of musical conductors; is this because we have all stared our two hours into expert familiarity with these variously-tailored backs?  But indeed here is a volume of twenty-four joys, or rather twenty-five, the last being anticipation of Mr. KAPP’S further activities, which I for one shall await with very genuine interest.