FROM A WOMAN'S NOTE BOOK

Press, Volume LXI, Issue 11871, 19 April 1904, Page 10

FROM A WOMAN'S NOTE BOOK

It is not oltcn that contributions to magazines, chiefly on topics of the moment, are worth reprinting; but jt would have been a pity if oblivion, which, must necessarily be tho fate of thousands of wellwritten articles, should have overtaken the bright, clever, and often instructive little essays and sketches of the late .airs E. T. Cook, a woman of many gifts and wide sympathies. The tone throughout is light, humorous, and now and again mildly ironical ; yet in sgite of this evident desire not to write in a serious vein, there is much in this little volume to commend itself to thoughtful readers. The eeeays are of unequal value: some are extremely good, those on the education of girls and the child studies being especia-lly so; while the obviously humorous onos—"Clorinda at Home," for example—are not nearly so successful. It would appear as if Mrs E. T. Cook were really a woman of a serious turn of mind, who, for some reason or other, preferred to adopt a semi-humorous mode of expression.; now and again, however, she forgets her assumed character, and the result is an excellent essay full of mature experience and mellow, kindly sympathy and understanding. In '"A Modern High-school Girl" a somewhat exaggerated picture is given of the product of our boasted education. The High-school girl certainly often is objectionable, but we doubt if anyone quite so uninteresting or unappreciative as Ethel, aged seventeen, is to be found in any wellconducted sixth form. She is taken by a kindly, cultured aunt to the most Jovely and famous spots in Italy, and shows no trace of enthusiasm, no excitement, and no understanding of the beauties of Art or Nature. On her way to Bale she remarks, "How very like 'abroad' is to England"; at Milan the cathedra] evokes no admiration from her, but she enjoyed, the "spiral staircases"; in Venice she displays an ignorance that is amazing, inquiring as she stands before the Ducal Palace, "How many dogee were lucre at once?" Churches in j general were a grief to her. There were so -very many of them to be seen. They made- her feel so_j;iddy. . . ." During tnp journey from Venice to Paris she reads a novel; the.Eiffel Tower is only interesting to her because her rival at school had already been there; and on learning that I the Louvre was both a celebrated picture gallery and a shop she elects to go to the latter! No wonder the intelligent, cultivated aunt is disappointed in her niece, but we maintain that Ethel is not a typical High-school girl. Yet there is much truth" in Mrs Cook's point -.of view: that in modern education general culture counts I for so little, and the acquisition of facts for so'much. "The New Child" is a capital article, full of humour and keen observation of modern parents and modern children. Tho writer makes merry over "infant prodigie/," who play and recite in public; and the "children's competitions" that foster the vanity of'young persons, and en outrage them to desire notoriety and excitement. The letters quoted from youthful contributors to editors would strike the ordinary reader as obviously manufactured; those, however, who are acquainted with the mysteries of the editorial room will be able to vouch for their truth. "A is not an article, ' remarked a small child to it's mother, who was helping her with her school lessons. "Fancy your not knowing it's a diagamee and amusements are particularly seasonable at this time of the j«ar, and will be re-echoed by many a worried parent and guardian during the Christmas ho idays. "He—or she—is never amused with the simple games that uswl to delight us. Modern children are wilUng to rfav if only to pfease their elders; but thefare mildly and politely bored, they are bored with most things. They have twenty pic-ture-books where we had one To cum up, the child of bygone days had to be seen and not heard; the new child has to be heard as well as seen." On the "Modern Novel" Mrs Cook has some excellent things to «ty : the humorous—and, as we believe, perfectlr true— conversations overheard in a certain renowned circulating library are delightful, and give both the writer and reader much food fpr reflection. Works of certain really great though entirely outspoken authors, are placed on the Index; whereas, as Mrs C** remarks "all tl *t flood of unplea! Bant modern fiction which will pans away, leaving only an ill odour behmd it, receives a warm welcome. Women are mainly responsible for this new and unpleasant type of fiction. "The- — newly emancipated, and to the newly emancipated nothing Is eacred" It is comforting to accept this as the reason for the tons of-unwholesome, morbid rubbish that hae been shot upon the public for several years past, for in this aJe the reign of the "degenerate" novel cult is but short-lived. One feels it is a trifle inconsistent of Mre Cook to have attacked the new child when she wrote such'a delightful sketch of Maurice, aged four, and nis visit to the Mummy Boom of the British Mueeum, and the wise thoughts which the sight of these old Egyptians evoked in the mind of the little boy. The conversation -which results from his queation, "Aunt Bessie-, why do people die?" shows the aruthoresa to possess a real itisight into chijd-nature, and makes us regret that she did not live to give us more of these essays, permeated with such a f,ane, cheerful, and sympathetic view of life.