It was, for one thing, Mary’s habit of misquotation that got upon Ledgar’s nerves.  “Alas, poor Garrick!” was one of her typical lapses.  Nor was Ledgar himself more of a success with Mary, who found him (and here my sympathies went over to her) lacking in force and coherence.  But as Mary eloped with somebody else at the end of part one she hadn’t my prolonged experience of Ledgar’s incomprehensibility.  Nor did the question of his semi-lunatic friend worry her, or the whole problem of what, if anything, was the motive of the book.  Eventually he is shown pairing off with his earlier love, Winnie; and I am bound to say that she too has my sympathy.  I should sum up by saying that the analysis of introspective egotism, however subtly done, can make at best only an exasperating story.

* * * * *

In By the Waters of Africa (ROBERT SCOTT) Miss NORMA LORIMER has described her British East African travels in a series of letters, in which she shows a very real sense of style and a delightful assumption of her own unimportance.  To people suffering from the books of travellers who seem more anxious to air themselves than to give impressions of the countries through which they have passed, it will be a pure relief to find an author who suppresses herself and really gets on with her business.  Thanks to her friends, whose kindness she frankly acknowledges, Miss LORIMER was able to see native life under conditions impossible to a less privileged traveller, and she misses no feature in it that is either humorous or enlightening.  It is a model book of its kind, valuable up to a certain point and always pleasant to read.  Some of the author’s adventures might easily have excused a reckless use of notes of exclamation.  But only once does she give way to this weakness, and this I pardon her, for I should always use one myself on the eve of starting for the Mountains of the Moon.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  NEW SPORTS FOR OLD.

SNAIL-STALKING IN THE SUBURBS.]

* * * * *

FOR THE HONEYMOON?

    “Lady wants quiet summer accommodation; near bees.”—­Scotsman.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Epilogue]

MR. PUNCH IN RUSSIA.

In the last Epilogue, where Mr. Punch was described as paying a call upon our brave soldiers in a German prison-camp, I confessed that I didn’t understand how he got there in the body.  To-day I have to report a far simpler enterprise.  This time he has merely been on a mission to Russia.  Anybody can do that, unless the Sailors’ and Firemen’s Union mistake him for Mr. RAMSAY MACDONALD and no one has yet made this error in respect of Mr. Punch.