memoirs, _My Four
Years in Germany_. As read in their completed and collected form these
papers are not only, as one could foresee, of historic importance,
but they are moreover capital reading. There is a world of unaffected
geniality and humour about them that forms a most admirable complement
to such serious matters as the protracted negotiations over the U-boat
campaign, or the now famous incriminating telegram addressed by the
ALL-HIGHEST to President WILSON in the days before the Huns had quite
decided with what lies to defend the indefensible. This document is
reproduced in facsimile as the egregious sender of telegrams wrote it
for Mr. GERARD to transmit, and is one link more in the thrice-forged
chain of evidence. But even stronger witness to German guilt is to be
found in the series of minor corroborations appearing incidentally in
the course of Mr. GERARD'S narrative, whether the author is pretending
to be in awe of Prussian Court Etiquette, or openly laughing at the
Orders of the Many Coloured Eagles, or simply detailing his work at
Ruhleben and the other prison camps. His devotion there has earned a
gratitude throughout this country that it would be mere presumption to
try to put into words.

* * * * *

Those of us who have loitered with Mr. DE VERE STACPOOLE by blue
lagoons and silent pools know that he is a master of atmosphere, and
so he proves himself again in _The Starlit Garden_ (HUTCHINSON),
though it takes him some time to get there. When a young American
finds himself the guardian of an Irish flapper--a distant
relation--and comes over to take her back with him to the States, it
does not require much perspicacity to guess what will happen. _Phyl
Berknowles_ strongly objects to the intrusion of _Richard Pinckney_
into the glorious muddle of her Irish menage, and irritates him so
successfully that he returns in a considerable tantrum to America,
leaving her with some friends in Dublin. So far the tale is lively
enough, but not until _Phyl_ feels the call of her blood and goes to
stay with her relatives in Charleston does the author find scope for
his peculiar charm. Then we get a most delightful picture of a starlit
garden in the south of America, where _Phyl's_ experiences, without
placing a tiresome strain upon our powers of belief, produce a
sensation at once romantic and unusual. Memories of the past hang
over this garden, and although Mr. STACPOOLE'S attempt to