trivial unpleasantness. * * * * * Mr. J. RATH has really discovered a new type of heroine, new at least this side the Atlantic. His farm-bred _Sadie_, a Buffalo shirt-packer, classifies men by the sizes of their shirts, has no use for any swain with a chest measurement under forty, and eventually in a most original way finds her hero in _Mister 44_ (METHUEN), an enormous Canadian engineer and sportsman. She is no chicken herself and has a passion to be free of the city and out in the great open. _Sadie_ is more than big; she is beautiful, burnished-copper-haired, sincere and kind, and, though I think the author "gets this over" quite well I liked her best before she found her man and her _Robinson Crusoe_ adventures among the islands of Ontario, and was giving back chat to the little foreman in the factory. Here she is a pure delight; and in these days, when a knowledge of the American language may come in handy at any moment, this amiable romance may well be recommended as an attractive manual of first-aid in the matter. * * * * * Without professing to be a student of Mrs. DIVER'S books I know enough about them to be worried by the commonplaceness of _Unconquered_ (MURRAY). Like so many other authors she has succumbed to the lure of the War-novel. There may be a public for tales of this kind, but I have not yet read one that approaches artistic success. Here we are spared nothing. _Sir Mark Forsyth_ goes to France in the early days, is first of all reported "missing, believed killed," and then officially reported "killed." Of course he turns up again, but such a physical wreck that the minx whom he was to have married breaks off the engagement. Naturally the sweet girl, friend of _Mark's_ childhood, undertakes to fill the gap. The minx, _Bel Alison_, is so scathingly drawn that from sheer perversity I found myself hunting for one good point in her character; but without a find. On the other hand, _Lady Forsyth_, _Mark's_ mother, and a quiet, capable man called _Macnair_, are admirably put before us. Yet at best there remains the conviction that the War is terribly real that these attempts to romance about it are almost bound to be as superficial as they are superfluous. * * * * * [Illustration: DURING THE RAID. _Disappointed Player_. "HARD LINES! I HAD AN EASY FIVE SHOT THAT WOULD HAVE RUN ME OUT."] * * * * * "Lost, between Ryde Pier and Southsea, Black Satin Bag, containing keys and eyeglasses. Reward given."--_Portsmouth Paper_. A chance for the local mine-sweepers.