Mountain Memories (Cassell) must, if honestly named, concern itself to a certain extent with mountains, but even those of us who have never felt the smallest wish to climb can read it with great pleasure. For although Sir Martin Conway does mention some of his mountaineering feats this book is concerned primarily with the spirit rather than with the body. "A Pilgrimage of Romance" is its sub-title, and, though there can't be many Pilgrims who have done better climbing, I doubt if any more difficult feat stands to his credit than this of putting these impressions of the quest of beauty so clearly and delicately before us. The least deviation from the path of modesty would have led him into trouble, but he never makes it. "Reader," he writes, "if you and I are to be real comrades we must share the same adventures of fancy and of soul.... My fairies must be thy fairies and my gods thy gods. Hand-in-hand we must thrill with a single rapture—'le cœur en fleur et l'âme en flamme.'" For myself I am well content (whether he addresses me in the second person singular or plural, or both—as here) to have vicariously achieved such heights in the person of so admirable an agent.
THE HOUSING SHORTAGE.
[It is suggested that those who occupy houses containing more accommodation than they need should be compelled to allow their superfluous rooms to be occupied by less fortunate people.]
Visitor. "It's all right, Sir. I've called to see Miss Spriggins—third floor back. I'm 'er feeoncy. You don't 'appen to know if she's at 'ome?"
"A 'Cæsar' Commentary.
'The Trial Scene' from 'Julius Cæsar,' as given at the Coliseum this week, struck me as somewhat dull, or should we say out of place? Detached from the body of the play, the scene must have perplexed some of the audience unfamiliar with the written word."
"The Rambler" in "The Daily Mirror."
Possibly he would have preferred the "Tent Scene" from The Merchant of Venice.