_The Tree of Heaven_ (CASSELL) spread its friendly branches over a pleasant corner of a roomy Hampstead garden. Matter-of-fact _Anthony_, the timber merchant, always would insist that it was a mere common ash; but the others, _Frances_, and the children, _Dorothy, Michael, Nicky_ and adopted _Veronica_, knew better, as also, no doubt, did _Jane-Pussy_ and her little son, _Jerry_, who was _Nicky's_ most especial pal. Miss MAY SINCLAIR, without being a conscienceless sentimentalist, does us the fine service of reminding us that the world of men is not all drab ugliness, but that there are beautiful human relationships and unselfish characters, and wholesome training which justifies itself in the day of trial. She divides her charming chronicle into three parts--Peace, The Vortex, and Victory. The first deals with the childhood of the happy brood of _Anthony_ and _Frances_, delicate studies subtly differentiated. Even the little cats have their astonishing individuality, and I don't envy anyone who can read of _Jerry's_ death and _Nicky's_ grief without a gulp. The Vortex is--no, not the War; that comes later--but the trials of a world which tests adolescence, a world of suffrage rebellions, of Futuristic art and morals. Then the real vortex of the War, the Victory which means ready (or difficult, unready) sacrifice and death for the boys and their friends and as great a sacrifice and as cruel a thing as death for the others, the women and the elders.... A novel, which is much more than a novel, packed with beauty and sincerity, setting forth its tragedy without false glamour or shallow consolations. * * * * *