gs the scenes
together, though it promised well, with almost every possible element
of fictional excitement--buried treasure, and spies, and abductions,
and secrets--somehow the result was not wholly up to the expectation
thus created. To borrow an appropriate simile, the great thrill
remained something of a mirage, always in sight and never actually
reached. Also I wish to record my passionate protest against stories
of treasure-trove in which the treasure is not taken away in sacks and
used to enrich the hunters; I am all against leaving it underground,
for whatever charming and romantic reasons. No, it is not so much as
a novel of adventure that might have happened pretty well anywhere
that I advise you to read this book, but as a super-guide to scenes
and sensations that happen in Egypt and nowhere else. From the moment
when, as one of the WILLIAMSON party, you sit down to breakfast on the
terrace of Shepherd's, till you take leave of your fellow-travellers
in the mountain-tomb of QUEEN CANDACE, you will enjoy the nearest
possible approach to a luxurious Egyptian tour, under delightful
guidance, and at an inclusive fare of six shillings.

* * * * *

Mr. SETON GORDON is a bold man. It is one thing to call a book
_The Charm of the Hills_ (CASSELL) and quite another to succeed in
conveying that charm through the medium of the printed word. Perhaps,
however, he was encouraged by the success that has already attended
these pen-pictures of Highland scenes in serial form; certainly he
knew also that he had another source of strength in a collection of
the most fascinating photographs of mountain scenery and wild life,
nearly a hundred of which are reproduced in the present volume. So
that what Mr. GORDON the writer fails to convey about his favourite
haunts (which is not much) Mr. GORDON the photographer is ready
to supply. The papers, which range in subject from ptarmigan to
cairngorms, are written with an engaging simplicity and directness,
and show a sympathetic knowledge of wild nature such as is the
reward only of long familiarity. The glorious mountain wind
blows through them all, so that as you read you feel the heather
brushing your knees, and see the clouds massing on the peaks of
Ben-something-or-other. Perhaps Mr. GORDON is at his most interesting
on the subject of the Golden Eagle. There are many striking snapshots
of the king of birds in his royal home; and some stories of cour