*

[Illustration: _Exhausted War Profiteer._ "DEER FORESTS FOR THE 'IDLE
RICH' BE BLOWED! THE 'NEW POOR' CAN 'AVE 'EM FOR ME."]

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)

The long-promised _Herbert Beerbohm Tree_ (HUTCHINSON), than which I
have expected no book with more impatience, turns out to be a volume
full of lively interest, though rather an experiment in snap-shot
portraiture from various angles than a full-dress biography. Mr. MAX
BEERBOHM has arranged the book, himself contributing a short memoir of
his brother, which, together with what Lady TREE aptly calls her
_Reverie_, fills some two-thirds of it with the more intimate view of
the subject, the rest being supplied by the outside appreciations of
friends and colleagues. If I were to sum up my impression of the
resulting picture it would be in the word "happiness." Not without
reason did the TREES name a daughter FELICITY. Here was a life spent in
precisely the kind of success that held most delight for the
victor--honour, love, obedience, troops of friends; all that _Macbeth_
missed his exponent enjoyed in flowing measure. Perhaps TREE was never a
great actor, because he found existence too "full of a number of
things"; if so he was something considerably jollier, the enthusiastic,
often inspired amateur, approaching each new part with the zest of a
brief but brilliant enthusiasm. I suppose no popular favourite ever had
his name associated with more good stories and wit, original and
vicarious. Despite some entertaining extracts from his commonplace book
I doubt if this side of him is quite worthily represented; at least
nothing here quoted beats Lady TREE'S own _mot_ for a mendacious
newspaper poster--_Canard a la Press_. Possibly we are still to look for
a more official volume of reference; meantime the present memoir gives a
vastly readable sketch of one whose passing left a void perhaps
unexpectedly hard to fill.

* * * * *

In the prefatory chapter of _Our Women_ (CASSELL) Mr. ARNOLD BENNETT
coyly disclaims any intention of tackling his theme on strictly
scientific principles. The warning is perhaps hardly necessary, since,
apart from the duty which the author owes to his public as a novelist
rather than a philosopher, the title alone should be a sufficient guide.
One would hardly expect a serious zoologist, for instance, in attempting
to deal