at the Vicarage--a supper of cold meat and a ground-rice mould, whereat
four jaded and parish-worn persons lacerated one another's nerves)
before you will have realised gratefully that the story and its
characters are going to be alive with a very refreshing and unpuppetlike
vitality. Eventually, of course, more happens than Vicarage suppers. An
old lover of _Griselda_ (Mrs. Curate) turns up, and many most
unparochial events follow upon his arrival. The scene shifts to Naples,
and we meet a villaful of men and women, all of them admirably original
and human. Not for a great while have I read a story so unforced and
appealing. It is indeed a sad thought that this graceful pen will give
us nothing more of its quality.

* * * * *

When you hear the title or see the cover of _The Heel of the Hun_
(HODDER AND STOUGHTON) your blood may begin to curdle and your flesh to
creep. Be assured. When I think of some of the war-books vouchsafed to
us Mr. J.P. WHITAKER'S is almost tame, and I venture to say that it
might be read out loud at a party of sock-knitters without a stitch
being dropped. Mr. WHITAKER was in Roubaix and, presumably because he
was believed to be an American, was allowed considerable freedom. So,
before he escaped into Holland, he saw some things which were not for
British eyes, and he tells us about them with a staidness altogether
unusual in this kind of book. Although he forgets to mention the fact,
his articles have already appeared in _The Times_, and I can see no
particular reason why they should have been gathered together in this
brief volume. Anyhow, I must believe that the Hun's heel fell less
heavily on Mr. WHITAKER than upon most people who have had the
misfortune to be introduced to it.