25 MAY 1929, Page 22

That most accomplished interpreter, Miss Pitt, once more translates for

her fascinated audience the language of the animal world: Toby my Pox Cub (Arrowsmith, 5s.) is a baby from the wild, playful, charming, and illusive. Brought up in the house, she submits to caresses with as little fear as a puppy and with far less awkwardness. Always graceful, always gay, she never gives her heart to her fond captors. She keeps it for the beautiful young fox of her dreams and runs away back to the wild world, where man, to whom she owes her happy childhood, to whom she has looked for food, warmth, and play, is once more the enemy—fierce, sinister, incom-