He has written the following books: “A Book of Prefaces,” “A Little Book in C Major,” “A Book of Burlesques,” “The Battle of the Wilhelmstrasse,” “The Artist,” “The Gist of Nietzsche,” “The Philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche,” “Europe after 8:15” (in collaboration with Nathan and Wright), “Men _vs._ the Man” (in collaboration with R. R. La Monte), and “George Bernard Shaw: His Plays.” The latter was the first book on Shaw ever published. He eats and enjoys all varieties of human food. There is no dish that he doesn’t eat. He has eaten snails, frogs, eels, octopus, catfish, goat meat, and Norwegian cheese. He thinks that the best roasts are the English, the best table wines the Spanish, the best pastry the Danish, the best soups the German, and the best cooking the French. He has visited the following countries: England, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Italy, Germany, Austria, Russia, Spain, France, Switzerland, and Cuba. He has never been in Canada or Mexico, and has never been further West than St. Louis. He has been under rifle and shell fire in this war, on the eastern front, and was glad to get under cover. He has been in France, Germany, and Russia during the war. He was nowhere mistaken for a spy, and was always treated courteously. He says that 99 per cent of the authors of war books are liars. His family is well-to-do, and he has never been dead broke. He has never seen a moving picture show. He is opposed to vice crusades, holding that the average prostitute is decenter than the average reformer. He ascribes the crusading spirit, following Freud, to a suppressed and pathological sexuality. He wears (and owns) no jewelry whatever, not even a scarfpin, but he sports a formidable Swiss watch, with a split second hand and a bell that strikes the quarter hours. He never wears gloves save in intensely cold weather. He owns and drives a 1916 Studebaker car, and never has it washed. Once, on receiving an amorous _billet doux_ from a fair admirer, he sent it back to the writer with a _Smart Set_ rejection slip. He frequently carries on a perfectly innocent conversation with Nathan in a low stage whisper, thus lending to his most trivial remarks a secret and sinister import. He introduced the new widespread use of “jitney” as an adjective. He also coined the words “smuthound” and “snouter,” both designating a “malignant moralist”—another of his invention. While playing the piano, he keeps the loud pedal glued to the floor from _couvert_ to _coda_. He and Nathan, in all the years of their friendship, have quarreled but once. This was in the late summer of 1916, when Mencken was suffering from a violent attack of hay fever and insisted upon going to bed one night at eleven o’clock, thus leaving the disgusted Nathan to kill time as best he could until midnight, at that period his hour for retiring. He never wears rubbers, carries an umbrella, or wears a mackintosh. He likes to walk in the rain and get wet.