of Nations Covenant and of the Treaty of Versailles and bears his personal endorsement. Mr. Foley has taken sentences from stenographic minutes of the White House conference with the Foreign Relations Committee of the Senate, and thirty-seven addresses delivered by Mr. Wilson during his western tour in 1919 when the Treaty was before the Senate, and so arranged and combined them that they form a continuous text. To this have been appended, in full, the Covenant and two addresses he delivered before the Peace Conference at Paris, and official cablegrams containing suggestions later embodied in the Covenant, from former President Taft and former Secretary of State Root.

"I was standing on deck when I saw a carriage driving furiously up to the quay, surrounded by a guard of shabby arquebussiers--a lady was dragged out of the carriage and shoved up the plank on to the ship. An old man jerked her toward me and put a letter in my hand. 'An order from the King!' said he, 'a prisoner' of State to be taken to Louisiana and delivered to the Governor!'"

This lady, Marie Alorge, cruelly exiled from France under a lettre de cachet is known as La Dame de Sainte Hermino, and her fortunes are wrapped up with those of the new French settlement of New Orleans, its doughty founders and defenders, and its kindly peasant people. She endures perils of loneliness, perils of storm, perils of Indians, and comedy and tragedy mingle in her love story.

This book has just been, published by the Macmillan Co. It is called "La Dame de Sainte Hermine," and its author is Grace King.

Wayland Wells Williams in "I, The King," (Stokes) gives us a new idea of life in the South Sea Islands, which several critics have hailed as the most truthful and satisfying we have yet had, though Mr. Williams frankly admits that he has never been there. The episode of his hero's experience as a hard-working king in the South Seas, sandwiched in between the incidents at Yale and New York, is one of the most entertaining bits in the season's fiction.

Every author yearns at some time or other to write a book of the weird or supernatural. Recently May Sinclair gave herself rein with such a book and now E. F. Benson, rather than suppress the desire and become such stuff as Freudians feed on, has written "Visible and Invisible." (Dorah.)

There are a dozen tales in the collection and the reader's hair slowly rises until absolutely perpendicular to the scalp. Those whose hair naturally bristles six of the stories it will brush and lie flat in the meekest fashion imaginable.