" MARGE ASKINFORIT " AND TWO OTHER HUMOROUS BOOKS.*

Is his interesting book The Ways of Life (Oxford University Press, 6s. 6d. net), which wo reviewed recently, Mr. Stephen Ward says that since in this life we are all companions in mis- fortune, we can at least "drag our fetters with an air," and that in many moments of doubt, irresolution and especially of failure, " laughter is better than all the inquisitions of reason." Espeoially is all this true, he says, of serious matters like religion and morality. Surely only a very grave nation could have revived the Inquisition. The comic absurdity of burning people for their beliefs apparently never dawned upon the Spaniards. "A man cannot be prevented from being serious over matters of morality, but surely the men who during the war formed the first wave of an attack and climbed out of their trenches shouting, This way for the Early Doors,' expressed all the pity and all the glory of such a moment better than any sermon."

Mr. Ward would certainly hold that Mr. Barry Pain's extremely funny little book Marge Askinforitl is a mush better comment on Mrs. Asquith's Autobiography than the rather heavy strictures of a good many critics. The extravagance of Marge Askinforit makes its satire quite good-humoured. Marge usually occupied the position of temporary parlourmaid in the homes of the great. The society with which she mixes is, in its higher moments, that of the nobility of the servants' hall, and in its lower it is that of Vilitechapel High Street. Marge describes how she and her sister "exercised a fascination over the other sex that was almost incredible." They had a Proposal Competition each week ; each of them paid sixpence, and the girl who got the greatest number of proposals took the pool. " Our lodger pestered my sister and myself with his absolute inattention. . . . While the Proposal Competitions were on, not one of us thought it worth while to waste time on the man. Afterwards I thought that it would be kind to offer him a little encouragement."

" He usually went for a walk on Sunday mornings, and one Sunday I said that I would accompany him. Better not,' he said. ' Looks to me like rain." But you have an umbrella,' I pointed out. Aye,' he said, and when two people share one umbrella, they both get all the drippings from it and none of the protection. You take a nice book and read for a bit.' Ng,' I said. ' I'm coming with you, and though it's Leap Year, I definitely promise not to propose to you.' Well, he said, 'that makes a difference.' I thrust my arm into his gaily and confidentially, and he immediately unhooked. We went on to the Heath together. ' I was once told by a palmist,' I said, 'that I had a mysterious and magnetic attraction for men.' Those palmists will say anything,' he said. It's just the other way round really.' Perhaps,' I maid. ' I know I have an un- limited capacity for love—and nobody seems to want it.' Ah,' he said, it's a pity to be overstocked with a perishable article. It means parting with it at a loss.' What could I say to a brute like that ? And I had nobody there to protect me. I wish,' I said, that you'd look if I've a fly in my eye.' If you had, you'd know,' he answered. The fly sees to that.' Some minutes elapsed before I asked him to tie nay shoe-lace. He looked down and said that it was not undone. I simply turned round and left him, I was not going to stay there to be insulted."

Some of the anecdotes are admirable :- " I well remember the first and only time that I met Gladstone. I was staying with Lady Bilberry at the time at her house in Half Moon Street. She was a woman with real charm and wit, but somewhat irritable. Most of the people I've met were irritable or became so, and I can't think why. But to return to Gladstone. I wrote down every precious word of my conver-

(I) Marge Askinforit. By Barry Pain. London T. Werner Lennie. Is. net.)—(2) After-Dinner Stones. By George Robe f/.. London Grant Richard.. L The Bairnefoth, Coss ea tried before Mr. Juatise Busby. By Bruce Bairnsfather and W. A. blotch. London : Putnam.. Us. ed. net.]

cation with him at the time, and the eager and excited reader may now peruse it in full.

GLAD STONE : Lady Bilberry at home ?

Marton : Yes, sir.

GLADSTONE Thanks.

MARGE : What name, please ? He gave me his name quite simply, without any attempt at rudeness or facetiousness. I should say that this was typical of the whole character of the man. With a beautiful and punt. Wiens courtesy he removed his hat—not a very good hat—on entering the house. I formed the impression from the ease with which he did this that the practice must have been habitual with him. The only thing that mars this cherished memory is that it was not the Gladstone you mean, nor any relative of his, but a gentleman of the same name who had called to see if he could mterest her ladyship in a scheme for the recovery of some buried treasure. He did not stay long, and Lady Bilberry said I ought to have known better."

Mr. George Robey's After-Dinner Stories, are rather disap- pointing; they are good stories, but they are so singularly badly told. Surely the following is a fine example of how to spoil a quite pleasant little story in the telling :—

" An illustration of the ridiculous and annoying way in which a church choir will sometimes run together the words of a hymn is afforded by the remark of a small boy in one of the front pews ei a large and fashionable church in Manchester.

The hymn beginning ' The consecrated Cross I'd bear' had just been sung, and in the momentary quiet which followed the small boy turned to his father and asked in an earnest whisper : I say, pa, where do they keep the concentrated, cross-eyed bear ? "

The whole of the first paragraph should surely have been omitted. The following is much better :-

" PARKER. What's wrong 7 You seem worried.

STREETER. I am. I wrote two notes—one to my broker asking him if he took me for a fool, and the other to a lady asking her if she would marry me. While I was out somebody telephoned Yes,' and I don't know which of 'em it was."

Mr. Bairnsfather's book' contains, amid a good deal that will only be enjoyed by those who are fond of his particular type of humour, some really funnily conceived correspondence in which the late war is ordered from a contractor ; it has that satirical note without which a whole book of humour is apt to be sticky reading.