Mr. HERBERT VIVIAN is the complete partisan. He will believe always the worst of an enemy, the best of a friend--a credulous loyal fellow. And in _Italy at War_ (DENT) he sets out to tell us a good deal that is interesting about the fine feats of our Italian Allies, especially of those Titanic gymnasts, the heaven-scaling Alpini. It is fair to warn the reader that it is a rather desultory scrap-book of the type the War has made common; fair also to add that some of the chapters least connected with the War are exceedingly interesting, as that about the elaborate sport of pigeon-netting at Cava dei Terreni. What I like least about our ready author is his fatuous little jokes, such as "Noli remained a sovereign republic for centuries ... had her own bishopric (hence the phrase '_Noli episcopari_')"; or, "Briand came to Rome the other day with much _brio_." And inconsequences like this: "One of Disraeli's heroes discovered two nations: the rich and the poor. In a similar spirit General February may be said to command two distinct armies." All the same, an interesting book. * * * * * I am no pacificist, but I am bound to admit that the moment seems distinctly ripe for a cessation in one minor War product, namely the trench-book. Perhaps some form of armistice might be arranged, to last, say, six months; at the end of which time (should the War last so long) the changed conditions of campaigning on German soil might at least give our impressionists a chance of originality. I have been inspired to these comments by a perusal of _Mud and Khaki_ (SIMPKIN), in which Mr. VERNON BARTLETT has reprinted from _The Daily Mail_ and elsewhere a number of vigorous and realistic studies of life on the Western Front. Perhaps, as a whole, the collection is a little more grim than most; but there are not wanting touches of light comedy, in, for example, the comments of an admirable philosopher named _"Pongo" Simpson_. For the rest the book is precisely what you can gather from its title. In his preface the author tells us that his object in writing it has partly been to correct a lack of appreciation among stay-at-homes of the hardships and heroism of their defenders. But does there really breathe a man with soul so dead as to belittle these to-day? I should be ashamed to think so. Still, do not suppose that I regret that Mr. BARTLETT should have been goaded by whatever motive into print. Far from it, for he is clearly a writer of gifts. But I suggest that he should next time exhibit them to us in some (dare I say?) less trenchant guise. * * * * * [Illustration: _Returned Soldier_. "WELL, JOHN, I DON'T SEE MUCH CHANGE IN THE OLD PLACE SINCE I WENT AWAY." _Old Villager_. "OH, WE AIN'T SUCH STICK-IN-THE-MUDS AS YOU MAKE OUT, MY LAD. W'Y AIN'T YOU NOTICED THAT OLD MRS. HUBBLE 'AS GOT A NEW PAIR O' SPECS?"] * * * * * "CHRISTENING LUCK.