FICTION.
THE TOYS OF PEACE..
"Rua," alas 1 will no more stir 113 to uncontrolled laughter or "gar us grue." In the brief but affectionate Memoir prefixed to this posthumous collection of his later stories and papers Mr. Rothay Reynolds tells us the story of his life and death. It was well that he did so, for, as he most truly says, "these tales, brilliant and elusive as butterflies, hide rather than reveal the character of the man who wrote them, and give but a suggestion of his tenderness and simplicity, of his iron will, of his splendour in the grip of war." Hector Hugh Munro was born in 1870 in Burma, where his father was stationed, spent his childhood in Devonshire, went to school at Exmouth and Bedford College, lived for a while in Normandy and Dresden, travelled in Germany end Austria with his father, and served for a short time in the Burmese Mounted Police. Invalided home, he commenced author in the Westminster Gazette, served as a correspondent for the Morning Post in the Balkans in 1902 and in Petrograd from 1905 to 1908, when he returned to London end settled down to earn his living as a man of letters. On the outbreak of the war he enlisted as a trooper in King Edward's Horse, exehanging after a while into the Royal Fusiliers. He twice declined a commission, distrusting his ability to be a good officer and desiring to go on fighting side by side with his comrades, bore all discomforts with unfailing cheerfulness, and fell at Beaumont- Hamel in November, 1916, beloved by his men and admired by his officers. "When peace comes," wrote one of them, "'Saki' will give its the most wonderful of all the books about the war." Die aliter visors, and he rests in the kind earth of France, supremely happy in the fate which allowed him, a delicate man of forty-five, to aid his country in her greatest need. Mr. Berney Reynolds tells us much in brief compass that is curious and delightful of his friend—his simple ways, his disregard of money, his generosity and independence of spirit, his love of birds, his method of writing. "His air and the movement of his hand gave one the impression that he was drawing, not writing. He loved his art, and by refusing to adopts style that might have appealed to wider circles, he made himself a place in our literature which, in the opinion of many. will be lasting." We agree, though we doubt whether " Saki " will ever be a popular writer. He had great gifts—Wit, mordant irony, and a remarkable command of ludicrous metaphor—but an intermittent vein of freakish inhumanity belied his best nature, and disconcerted the plain person. All them qualities are to be found in those tales and sketches. They range from exhilarating extravaganza to bitter political satire on vote- catching opportunism ; from studies of sophisticated selfishness and "feline amenities" to grim eager in the macabre. In other words, heroin the "Bald " who gave us When William Came and The Chronicles of Clovis. There wcrold be no end to the process of illustrative quotation, for " Saki " coruscates on every page. We will confine ourselves to one passage in which the wife of a serious Orientalist describes OW of many unfortunate explosions which attended their hospitable efforts to entertain a house- party. After narrating the quarrels of pro- and anti-Lloyd Georgites and of Suffragists and anti-Suffragists—the latter were described by her husband as "intensive bear-gardening "— Lady Prowche continuos :—
" My dear, the year before it was worse. It was Christian
• The Too of Pane, and other F,, a. By 11. 1.1. Munro ("Saki With a Poltrall and Meentdr. Lend= Colin Lane, um mai Science. Selina Cookie is a sort of High Priestess of the Cult, and else put down all opposition with a high hand. Then one evening, after dinner, Clovis Sangrail put a wasp down her back, to see if her theory about the non-existonce of pain could be depended on in an emergenoy. The weep was small, but very efficient, and it had been soured in temper by being kept in a paper bag all the afternoon. Weeps don't stand confinement well, at least this one didn't. I don't think I ever realized tel that moment what the word invective 'could be made to mean. sometimes wake in the night and think I still hear Selina describing Clovis's conduct and general character. That was the year that Sir Richard was writing his volume on 'Domestic Life in Tartary.' The critics all blamed it for a leek of concentration.
Readers and renters have, so far as we know, unaccountably failed to draw upon the tales of "Said." This is their own loss, as his fantasies gain from being read aloud.
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