'A Shanghai Lady's, War Book I am not sure in reading this book which grips me the more—the thrilling narrative itself or the unusual personality of the author. Not that the author ever intrudes herself—far from it, for her thought is ever for her soldier boys, her "babies"—but like '"the man' behind the gun" we see the sure hand of Luerezia Camera directing every aim at Porta Mazini. When we are going through highly emotional scenes we seldom consider the literary excellence of our speeches or the dramatic value of our gestures. The author apologizes in a foreword for her lack of literary ability, but when we read such passages as the following we are inclined to disagree with her:—~ But the most pathetic thing of all is a young dead soldier lying beside a gaily rushing stream, the soft green turf for a bed. the great clumsy helmet fallen from the golden head.
large, staring blue eyes gazing at nothing, and young lips open es if to ask of Life why this should be, instead reality to house a tiny lizard. On ing over to examine closer the face this timid little creature glided out, Tt gave me a slight shock.
Poor little ignorant being. He did not know he was desecrating the dead Dows to Rock Borrox.
Porta Mazzini is a story of what one woman can do when she gets down to ''rock bottom" and. discards all hampering paraphernalia. What a contrast she is, this woman with her few war clothes, to the well-gowned. jewelled—manikins that visited her! For the women who hurried home from the distribution of gifts to the soldiers to ect their tea on time, she has noth-
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.