morland must be a perfectly beastly country to live
in all the year round. Both of which conclusions are sincere tributes.

* * * * *

I was at school, some years ago, with two brilliant twins called DUFF,
who between them captured, amongst other trifles, the Porson, two
Trinity scholarships, a Fellowship, and first place in the examination
for the Indian Civil Service. I mention them here as an example of the
minute care with which ALISTAIR and HENRIETTA TAYLER have compiled _The
Book of the Duffs_ (CONSTABLE). For I find their names and achievements
duly recorded in the list of (I should think) every male Duff born of
the stock of ADAM OF CLUNYBEG, _temp_ 1590, from, whom the present
Duchess of FIFE is ninth or tenth in descent. And that is only one
branch of the clan, only one of the numerous family-trees that make
these two bulky volumes a perfect forest of Duffs. I know now exactly
how _Macbeth_ felt when he saw Birnam Wood descending on Dunsinane. No
wonder he exclaimed, "The cry is still, _They come_." When I looked at
all these genealogies and lifelike portraits I had an appalling vision
of this great army of Duffs of Clunybeg and Hatton and Fetteresso and
the rest advancing towards me solemnly waving their family-trees. In the
van, with his Dunsinane honours thick upon him, marched
MACDUFF--MACDUFF, you know, who was also "Thane of Fife, created first
Earl, 1057, _m._ Beatrice Banquo." Then followed a long train of other
warriors--General Sir ALEXANDER, who fought in Flanders; Captain GEORGE,
who was killed at Trafalgar; Admiral NORWICH and Admiral ROBERT, also
contemporaries of NELSON; General PATRICK, who slew a tiger in single
combat with a bayonet; General Commander-in-Chief Sir BEAUCHAMP of our
own day--and I was afraid. Not, you understand, of their swords, but of
their trees. And then suddenly the spirit of _Macbeth_ came upon me
again. With him I shouted, "Lay on, Macduff; and damn'd be he that first
cries, _Hold, enough_." But, luckier than he, I have lived to tell the
tale, or rather to tell about it, and to recommend it to all those who
have arborivorous tastes. I can promise them that they will heartily
enjoy a good browse in the Forest of Duff.

* * * * *

When a book is called _The Sea Captain_ (METHUEN) I do not think that
the hero ought to be the driest of dry-bobs for nearly a quarter of it.
If, however, Mr. H. C. BAILEY is a slow