MR. DORNFORD YATES, whose name I seem to recall as a contributor to the magazines, has written a book of the most agreeable nonsense which he has called _The Brother of Daphne_ (WARD, LOCK). For no specially apparent reason, since _Daphne_ herself plays but a small part in the argument, which is chiefly concerned with the brother and his love affairs. This brother, addressed as _Boy_, was a bit of a dog, and an uncommonly lucky dog at that. The adventures he had! He apparently could not go out for the simplest walk without meeting some amiable young woman, divinely fair and supernaturally witty, with whom he presently exchanged airy badinage and, towards the end of the interview, kisses. What distressed me a little at first, till I tumbled to the spirit of the thing, was the discovery that the charmer was always a fresh one, and in consequence that these osculations had, so to speak, no matrimonial significance. Perhaps, however, _Boy_ recognised an essential similarity in each of his partners. He may, for example, have been deceived by the fact that they all talked exactly the same Dolly dialogue--light, frothy and just a little more neatly turned than is the common intercourse of mortals. You know the kind of speech I mean. It is vastly pleasant and easy to read; but I must decline to believe that any young man could have the amazing fortune to meet fifteen pretty girls who all had the trick of it. Still, that by no means lessened my enjoyment of an entertaining volume, notice of which would be incomplete without a word of praise for the illustrations of Mr. C. W. WILMSHURST, a favourite black-and-white artist of mine, whose name is unaccountably omitted from the title-page. * * * * *