t untold. The horror of some of these passages makes the book
(I should warn you) not one for shaken nerves. But there can be no
question of its very unusual interest, nor of the skill with which its
translator, who should surely be acknowledged upon the title-page, has
preserved the vitality and appeal of the original.

[Illustration: _Tommy_ (_who has made a find in a German dug-out_).
"_NOW_, ALBERT, AREN'T YOU GLAD YOU CAME? WHY, THESE CIGARS IN LONDON
WOULD COST YOU CLOSE ON A TANNER APIECE."]

* * * * *

The author of _Helen of Four Gates_ (JENKINS) has chosen to hide her
identity and call herself simply "An Ex-Mill Girl." I am sufficiently
sorry for this to hope that, if the story meets with the success that
I should certainly predict for it, a lady of such unusual gifts may
allow us to know her name. Of these gifts I have no doubt whatever. As
a tale _Helen of Four Gates_ is crude, unnatural, melodramatic; but
the power (brutality, if you prefer) of its telling takes away the
critical breath. Whether in real life anyone could have nursed a
lifelong hatred as old _Mason_ did (personally I cherish the belief
that hatred is too evanescent an emotion for a life-tenancy of the
human mind; but I may be wrong); whether he would have bribed a casual
tramp to marry and torment the reputed daughter who was the object of
his loathing, or whether _Day_ and _Helen_ herself would actually so
have played into his hands, are all rather questionable problems.
Far more real, human and moving is the wild passion of _Helen_ for
_Martin_, whom (again questionably as to truth) her enemies frighten
away from her. A grim story, you begin to observe, but one altogether
worth reading. To compare things small (as yet) with great, I might
call it a lineal descendant of _Wuthering Heights_, both in setting
and treatment. There is indeed more than a hint of the BRONTE touch
about the Ex-Mill Girl. For that and other things I send her (whoever
she is) my felicitations and good wishes.

* * * * *

I wonder if Mr. (or Mrs. or Miss) E.K. WEEKES would understand me if I
put my verdict upon _The Massareen Affair_ (ARNOLD) into the form of
a suggestion that in future its author would be well advised to keep
quiet. Not with any meaning that he or she should desist from the
pursuit of fiction; on the contrary, there are aspects of _The
Massareen Affair_ that are more than promising-