THE salient gift that Chesterton puts into his novels in his marvellous control over the Amazing. In a few hours the whole world has become permeated with the Anarchist idea, and we are not half as astonished as Syme or the Professor are in "The Man Who Was Thursday." Chesterton's characters can juggle with the stars and planets and moons without evolving any disbelief in our minds of their actual existence. To be Chestertonian, they are too impossible, these characters, not to be real: they have too many divine flashes of wit not to be human: they have too much of Chesterton within them not to be large and delightful.