Things I Can Tell. By Lord Rossmore. (Eveleigh Nash. 10s.
6d net.)—It is to be feared that these reminiscences of an Irish peer are likely to be best appreciated by cynics and snobs. The middle- class subscriber to a circulating library may feel his palate tickled by this miscellaneous collection of anecdotes in which so many "Lords " are referred to by such very familiar nick-names ; and the cynic will find an endless source of amusement in the strange social habits of mind and body revealed by Lord Rossmore. But for the rest the stories are never witty and seldom humorous, and it is only the extreme naiveté of the author that could carry the greater number of his readers through his incredibly dis- connected pages. A single specimen will be enough to show the quality of the rest : " The late Lord Winchilsea was another of the old school, and he had a peculiar lisping manner of speaking. I met him in the club one day after a regimental dinner, when we had finished up the evening with a steeplechase, in which wo used chairs as fences, and jumped over them on all fours. The jars and the jumps had given me a bad attack of gout in my wrist, and when I saw Winchilsea I had my arm in a sling. What's wrong ?' he asked. ` Well,' I replied, `Alfred Cooper says I've got gout, but I thought I was far too young for it.' Old Winchilsea looked at me and smiled. Then he said with his unforgettable lisp, `Ill bet iths right enough if Alfred Cooper says so, and allow me to tell you, my deah Derry, although it may seem unkind, nobody of my acquaintance dethserves it betther !' "
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