in the Yukon and elsewhere of
Rosalie Moran. With coloured jacket. Price 5s. net."

_Advt. in "Times Literary Supplement_."]

Extract from "Belle's Letters":--"Other smart books I noticed included
Mrs. BARCLAY'S _Sweet Seventy-one_, looking radiantly young and lovely
in a simple rose-pink frock embellished with rosebuds, and Mr. CHARLES
GARVICE'S _Marriage Bells_, utterly charming in ivory satin trimmed
with orange blossom. On another shelf I saw Mr. KIPLING'S _The Horse
Marines_, looking well in a smartly-cut navy blue costume with white
facings, and not far away was Mr. ARNOLD BENNETT'S _Straphanger_, in
smoked terra-cotta, and the pocket edition of DICKENS in Mrs. Harris
Tweed. Mr. Britling's new book, _Mr. Wells Sees it Through the Press_,
was looking rather dowdy in a ready-made Norfolk jacket, but Mr.
and Mrs. WILLIAMSON'S _The Petrol Peeress_ was very chic in a
delightfully-cut oil-silk wrap; and so was Sir GILBERT PARKER'S _This
Book for Sale_, in a purple bolero. Academic sobriety characterised
the gown worn by the POET LAUREATE'S _The Sighs of Bridges_, while Mr.
A.C. BENSON'S _Round My College Dado_ was conspicuous in a Magdalene
blouse with pale-blue sash."

* * * * *

"This was followed by a banquet in which Bro. W.S. Williams
took a prominent part."--_Daily Chronicle_ (_Kingston,
Jamaica_).

* * * * *

LETTERS FROM MACEDONIA.

II.

MY DEAR JERRY,--No doubt you think from the light-hearted tone of my
last letter that life here is a bed of roses. In reality we have our
flies in the ointment--nay, our shirt-buttons in the soup. The
chief of the flies is artillery, both our own and that of the people
opposite; and the worst of the shirt-buttons is jam. It sounds
strange, but it is true.

There was a time in the olden days when we welcomed gunner-officers,
but those days are unhappily past since we met Major Jones. Learn then
the perfidy of the Major and _ex uno disce, omnes_.

I had a nice little 'ouse up in the front line, well hidden by trees.
It wasn't a _h_ouse, Jerry, I wish you to understand; it was merely a
little 'ouse standing in its own grounds like, with a brace or so of
chickens and a few mangel-wurzels a-climbin' round the place. You know
what it's like.

Well, Major Jones, who had been my guest several times in this little
'ouse of mine, came round a few days ago with a worried look and an
orderly.