Having taken cover only in Lower Robert Street, which is open to all, I cannot with any personal knowledge speak of the camaraderie of private basements; but I suppose that that exists and is another of the War's byproducts. I take it that, in the event of a sudden alarm, no householder with a cellar would be so inhuman as to refuse admittance to a stranger, and already probably a myriad new friendships and not a few engagements have resulted. Our own camaraderie is admirable. The federation of the barrage breaks down every obstacle; while a piece of shrapnel that one can display is more valuable than any letter of introduction, no matter who wrote it. Hence we all talk; and sometimes we sing too--choruses of the moment, for the most part, in one of which the depth of our affection for our maternal relative is measured and regulated by the floridity of the roses growing on her porch. And yet, when at last friendliness is upon the town, there are people--and not only alien Hebrews either--who have been hurrying away from London! When London has become more interesting than ever before in its history there are people who leave it! Personally I mean to cling to the old city as long as it will cling to me; but even now across one's aching sight comes a "dream of pastime premature" which shakes such resolves a little. Peter, for example, has been having a disturbing effect on me. Only now and then, of course--when I am not quite myself; when the two and thirty (what remains of them) are not so firmly gritted as they should be; when even London seems unworthy of devotion. But these moods pass. You will admit, though, that Peter has his lure. I read about him in the _Tavistock Gazette_, one of the few papers, I fancy, which does not belong to Lord NORTHCLIFFE; and this is how the lyric (it is really a lyric, although it masquerades as an advertisement) runs, not only in the paper but in my head: "To be let, by Tender" (this is not an oath but some odd legal or commercial term) "as and from Lady Day all that nice little PASTURE FARM known as HIGHER CHURCH FARM, situate in the village of Peter Tavy." Now what could be more unlike London under the German invasion and all that nasty little tunnel known as Lower Robert Street, than Peter Tavy? But I must not be tempted. I must stick it out here. * * * * * LITERARY GOSSIP À LA MODE. The mystification practised by authors who have passed off as their own work the compositions of others is familiar to all literary students. SHAKSPEARE'S assumption of borrowed plumes is of course the classic example. But another and more subtle problem is the interchange of functions between two men of letters; and the theory recently advanced by the distinguished critic and occultist, Mr. Pullar Leggatt, deserves at least a respectful hearing. * * * * *