* * * * * _The King's Men_ (SECKER) are just our friends, yours and mine and Mr. JOHN PALMER'S, who have exchanged their tools and toys, their pens, wigs, brushes, books, spats and dreams for stars (one, two or three) and scars; all drawn into the Great Adventure which began on that 4th of August so many long years ago. Dilettante _Pelham_, prig and pacificist not from passion but from detachment, always so unbeatable in argument and always so wrong; sportsman _Rivers_, seeing simply and straight; crank _Smith_; comfortable _Baddeley_ in his snug Government berth; poser _Ponsonby_, always doing the thing that's the thing to do; exquisite _Graham_, with his fair lodge in the wilderness--all hallowed by the great consecration. There are, too, the King's women and an unhappy necessary stay-at-home or two, and a big and rather crude contractor, who will be master in his own works. But the young men are the folk Mr. PALMER best understands and presents in turns of clever and vehement talk. I beg you to read this book for these good things and for a tender love of England which shines nobly between the lines of it. * * * * * Perhaps _Fauvette_, the heroine of _The Green Orchard_ (CASSELL), was too modern to have much acquaintance with the works of the late WILLIAM BLACK. Which was a pity, as a recollection of _A Daughter of Heth_ might have withheld her from her impulsive marriage with _Martin Wilderspin_, or from feeling so much like a gold-fish out of water when he took her away from Paris to share a life that was a dreary contrast to all her previous experience. In any case I cannot hold her blameless for the resulting shipwreck. A bride who comes down late for a most critical little dinner to her husband's family, and attires herself (see cover) like a circus-rider, simply is not giving matrimony a fair chance. Moreover I seem to observe that Mr. ANDREW SOUTAR thinks this was rather sporting in his heroine. He certainly loads the dice in her favour, for, when the inevitable had happened and _Martin_ and _Fauvette_ had separated, the lady sought the consolations of literature and became (as heroines will) the sensation of the hour. Though _The Green Orchard_ is a brisk easy-running tale fidelity to life is hardly its strong point. Of course it was not to be expected that _Fauvette_ would escape being adored by _Martin's_ best friend; the real touch of originality is the final reward of this kind gentleman. For my own part I certainly expected--but to tell you that would be to betray what doesn't happen. The whole affair is a pleasant respite from actuality: more, I fear, it would be impossible to say. * * * * *