of Futuristic art and morals. Then the real vortex of the War, the
Victory which means ready (or difficult, unready) sacrifice and death
for the boys and their friends and as great a sacrifice and as cruel a
thing as death for the others, the women and the elders.... A novel,
which is much more than a novel, packed with beauty and sincerity,
setting forth its tragedy without false glamour or shallow
consolations.

* * * * *

Since it is natural to expect that a much-heralded book will fail,
when it does eventually appear, to fulfil the promise of its
publishers, it is the more pleasant to find oneself agreeing with
Messrs. HODDER AND STOUGHTON that bashfulness on their part would have
been out of place in regard to Mr. JAMES W. GERARD'S 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