BITS FROM NEW BOOKS.

Press, Volume LXI, Issue 12027, 31 October 1904, Page 5

BITS FROM NEW BOOKS.

"There fs something truly pathetic, as well as dmil, in the anxiety oi every true American to prove himselt or herself an offshoot from some old British root of honour or nobility. It would be cruel to laugh at this instinct, for, after all, it is only the passionate longing of tlie Prodigal Son who, having eaten of the husks that the swine did eat-, experienced such an indigestion at last, that he said, 'I will arise and go to my father.'" From "God's Good Man, , by Marie Corclli.

"The iconoclasts who would do away with the appointed seventh day of respite from the hard labours of everyday life, deserve hanging without the mercy of trial. A true observance of Sunday, and especially the English country observance of Sunday, is one of the saving graces of our national constitution. In the large towns a growing laxity concerning the. 'keeping of the seventh day holy, , is plainly noticeable, the pernicious example of London '«mart' society doing much to lessen the old feeling of respect for the day and its sacredness ; but in small greenwood places, where it is still judged decent and obedient to the Jaws of God to attend Divine worship at legist onoe a day—when • rough manual toil is set aside, and the weary and soiled labourer takes a pleasure in being clean, orderly, and cheerfully respectful to his superiors, Sunday is a blessing and an educational force that can hardly be overestimated." Ibid.

In such a peaceful corner as St. Best, Sunday was a very day of days. Tourists seldom disturbed its tranquilrty, the 'Mother Huff public-house affording but sorry entertainment io euch parties; the motor bicycle, with its detestable noise, insufferable odour and dirty, oil-stained' rider in goggled spectacles,' was scarcely ever seen—a motor car always turned another way on leaving the county . town of Riversford, in order to avoid .the sharp ascent from tlie town,.as well as the still sharper and highly dangerous descent into the valley again, wliere the little mediaeval village lay. nestled. Thue it was enabled to gather to itself a etrangelv beautiful halcyon calm on th* Lord'a Day—and in'fair spring weather like, the present, dozed complacently under the quiet smile of serene blue skies, soothed to sleep by the rippling flow of Uβ ribbonlike river, end receiving from hour to hour a fluttering halo of doves' wings, as these traditional messengers of peace flew tivcr the quaint old houses, or rested on the gabled roofs, spreading out their snowy tails like fans to the warmth of the sufi. The dhurchyard was. the recognised meeting place for all the gossips of the villageafter the sermon was over and the blessing pronounced—and the brighter and warmer tho weather, the longer and more desultory the conversation." Ibid.