BOOKS AND BOOKMEN
VERSES MILK FOR THE GAT [When the tea is brought at five o’clock, And all the neat curtains are drawn with care, The little black cat with bright green eyes Is suddenly purring there. At first she pretends, having nothing to do, She has come in merely to blink by the grate; But, though tea may be late or the milk may be sour, She is never late. And presently her agate eyes Take a soft, large jmlky haze, And her independent, casual glance Becomes a stiff, hard gaze. Then she stamps her claws or lifts her ears, , . Or twists her tail or begins to stir, Till suddenly all her lithe body becomes One breathing, trembling purr. The children eat and wriggle and laugh, The two old ladies stroke their silk; But the cat is grown small and thin with desire, Transformed to a creeping lust for milk. The white saucer like some full moon descends At last from the clouds of the table above; ' She sighs and dreams and thrills and glows, Transfigured with love. She nestles over the shining rim, Buries her chin in the creamy sea; Her tail hangs loose; each drowsy paw Is doubled under each bending knee. A long, dim ecstasy holds her life; Her world is an infinite shapeless white, Till her tongue has curled the last holy drop, . , ’ Then she sinks back into the night. Draws and dips her body to heap Her sleepy nerves in the great armchair, Lies defeated and buried deep Three or four hours unconscious there. —Harold Monro. THE CURFEW HOUR The gather’d corn lay darkly ’neath the moon Like soldiers whose glad youth is mown too soon. The vermeil blush of autumn s changing sky Was swallowed in black clouds which struck the eye, . And fields of garlic, garish in the day. Were scarcely yellow in the evening’s rav. A peaty fire of cabbage-leaves and grass • Gave out a fog of smoke where tillers pass. Bed poppies in the ditch closed up their eyes And listened to the moth’s soliloquies. A bird began a tune, when, out of sight, . The bells of Cambridge sang the hours of Night. u_F. Noel Holmes, in the ‘ Cambridge Public Library Record.’ AN ARTIST’S MEMORIES Sir William Rothenstein. whose early life as an artist was spent among men of letters, has written another volume of reminiscences which is as entertaining as his ‘ Men and Affairs ’ published last year. 11 1 found Wells difficult to draw; his features were round and rather commonplace. 1 thought, and didn’t show his genius.” he writes “ But once when Shaw and Granville Barker came to fetch me to a meeting in the Hampstead town hall, and took me with them on the platform. 1 caught sight of Wells in the body ol the ball, and noticed for the first time how striking were his eyes. 1 remember that meeting for another reason Barker was to speak, while Shaw took the chair; but Shaw spoke so long and so brilliantly that he took the wind out of Barker’s sails. 1 thought this selfish and unworthy of Shaw,” “ Wells had lately published ‘ Ann Veronica,’ closely followed by ‘The New Machiavelh,’ and was not very popular in consequence. He had something on his mind that made him resentrul at times, and he complained of old friends who had turned against him. But this was a passing mood only. He could always be gaily vituperative, but he was rarely bitter. There was something frank and unashamed in Wells, a vigorous enjoyment of life that disarmed criticism. He was perhaps a little greedy in his zest for life, I thought, as some are greedy over the pleasures of the table. Yes, Wells was greedy, but how much better appetite is than apathy I It was this lusty appetite for every phase of life, for work and for play as well, which I liked so much in him. And when he played, he played to win. Badminton was a favourite game of both of us, and Wells had tricky little strokes: he couldn’t resist them—-he couldn’t bear not to win. Yet he was quite aware of this weakness, for in one of his books, I remember, he commented on this kind of play.” Concerning Joseph Conrad, Sir William Rothenstein writes: —“ While Conrad was extremely courteous and understanding by nature, his nerves sometimes made him aggressive, almost violent; and, like most sensitive men, he was strongly affected, either favourably or disagreeably, by others. Poor Conrad was always in difficulties over money. His books brought him insufficient for his needs—needs which were perhaps not quite as simple as he believed them to be. There was an extravagant side to Conrad, characteristic, I thought, of his former profession. He was like a sailor between two voyages, ready to spend on land what he couldn’t aboard ship; and he had a wife in one port only, for whom nothing was too good. Conrad’s _ letters sometimes made painful reading, so harassed he was by expenses—worse still by old debts. When I returned to town (after spending a week-end with Conrad to draw Ins portrait) I spoke to various friends, and Hugh Hammersley, Henry Newbolt, W. P. Ker, Gilbert Murray and others helped to relieve him of some of his pressing difficulties. Later, Henry Newbolt and Edmund Gossc approached Mr Balfour
A LITERARY CORNER
—was there no fund for such a man as Conrad? Balfour went off to Scotland, taking with him half a dozen of Conrad’s books, which so impressed him that he arranged for a substantial sum to be put at Conrad’s disposal. He appointed Gosso as a kind of trustee for the money, an arrangement which Conrad found somewhat irksome. Conrad, as often happens in like cases, had underestimated the sum needed to pay off his debts, and was not therefore relieved from worry, as I had hoped. Indeed, he was for long obsessed by thoughts of money, and feared lest he should die and. leave his wife and two children penniless. “ Hudson, too, was poor, but he spent much time wandering about the countryside, and needed little. It was gome time before we discovered that he w’as married. One day he spoke of his wife. ‘ Married I ' said my wife, ‘ and you never told us! How long have you been married? ’ ‘As long as I can remember,’ was Hudson’s answer, the gloomiest verdict on married life 1 have ever heard. He had met, early in life, a singer, a friend of Adelina Patti, with a great career before her; in love with her and her voice, he induced her to marry him. Then something happened; she lost her voice, and was never to sing again a tragedy for both of them. Mrs Hudson owned a large, dreary house at Westbourne Grove, London, of which she and Hudson occupied two floors; the rest of the house they let to lodgers. Poor Hudson, so fastidious as a writer, lived with the most forbidding furniture, the commonest pictures and china, the ugliest lace curtains and antimacassars. No wonder he chose such poor illustrations for his books I It irked me to see a ma n of a nature so elemental living in this lodging house atmosphere. His peculiar mysterious, charm was indescribable ; something about him tore at one’s heart, so lovable he was. Yet he never invited affection; he was a lonely man, with something of the animal about him, walking away and returning with the nonchalance or an animal, and then disappearing again. “ One could listen to Hudson for hours. He could describe and make absorbingly interesting things, people, animals, incidents he had observed, whether lately or long ago made no difference to the vividness of his account. The things he noticed were perhaps common things, such as others pass by, though he could talk, too, of less usual adventures, especially when he spoke of his early days in the pampas., I never tired of drawing Hudson. He was a willing sitter, though he disliked my drawings, thinking I made him too old and worn. He couldn’t bear the idea of growing old, and concealed his age.” THE YEAR'S CENTENARIES The many centenaries being celebrated this year have called forth quite a crop of books about the famous personages, who are being commemorated. Amongst the statesmen whoso centenaries (hi-, tri-, or otherwise) are being celebrated this year are Warren Hastings and George Washington, both of whom were born in 1732, and Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, who was killed at the Battle of Lutzen in 1632. Amongst soldiers there is Karl Roberts (born 1832); amongst inventors, Sir Richard Arkwright (born 1732), who introduced the spinning frame; amongst architects, Sir Christopher Wren (born 1632). We must also recall to mind Joseph Haydn the composer (born 1732), Paolo Veronese, the Italian painter (born 1532), and Mahomet, who died in 632. Against these men of science, art, and action, there are no less than thirteen writers of fame. A hundred years ago died Goethe, the greatest of German poets, Sir Walter Scott. Jeremy Benthara (the philosopher and reformer) . and George Crabbe (the teller of tales in verse). In the same year were born Charles L. Dodgson (“ Lewis Carroll ”). Louisa M. Alcott, and Bjornson, the Norwegian dramatist. The year 1732 saw the death of John Gay. who wrote ‘The Beggar’s Opera,’ and the birth of Richard Cumberland ami George Colman, two other dramatists; while 1632 marks the birth of two great philosophical writers, John Locke and Spinoza The years 1532 and 1432 gave us no writers who are remembered much to-day; but 1332 marks an important literary landmark, for in that year was born William Langland, author of ‘ Piers Plowman,’ who was one of the fathers of English poetry. MR HAROLD MONRO DEAD British papers report the death in his fifty-fourth year of Mr Harold Monro, the poet. In 1911 he founded, in conjunction with the Poetry Society, the ‘ Poetry Review,’ and in 1913 began the .issue, entirely under his own direction, of another periodical, ‘ Poetry and Drama,’ to Inch Rupert Brooke, Edward Thomas, Sir Henry Newbolt, Maurice Hewlett, James Elroy Flecker, Lascelles Abercrombie—almost all tho younger poets of the hour—contributed. Tho Poetry Bookshop, which ho next founded, was frequented by most readers of poetry in London, and became a place of pilgrimage for American visitors. After that ho started “ poetry readings,” which still continue. His owu verse has a great many admirers. One of the causes dearest to his heart was the instigation of sociability among men of lettrs, and to this he devoted his own social gifts. WELLS ON SHAW This paragraph on Mr Bernard Shaw occurs in Mr H. G. Wells’s new book, ‘ The Work, Wealth, and Happiness of Mankind ’ :-r- ---” There is a marked strain of unresolved mysticism in the naturally very clear and critical mind of Shaw. It is an essentially scientific type of mind that has never undergone any mental discipline, it is a scientific mind that was found and brought up by musicians and artists, and it has been greatly depraved by his irresistible sense of fun and his unsurpassed genius for platform effect. His is a fine intelligence which is always going off on the spree. No ono can be mentally energetic all round, something everyone must take for granted, and Shaw is no exception to this rule. His indolence is about fundamentals. Ho betrays an unwillingness to scrutinise the springs of his opinions, and these springs arise, more directly than is usual among minds of his calibre, from personal attachments and reactions.’-
NEW BOOKS ‘PIONEERING DAYS OF SOUTHERN MAORILAND' The Rev. M. A. Rugby Pratt, in his introduction to ‘ Tho Pioneering Days of Southern Maoriland,’ gives as one reason for writing it that no earlier book has “ dealt adequately ” with that period' in the history of Otago immediately preceding the settlement of 1848. That has been a real gap. Dr M’Nab's ‘ Murihiku ’ and ‘ The Old Whaling Days ’ are invaluable so far as they go,' but they deal more with visits of whalers and seamen than with events on land, and their chapters on ‘ Otago Trade ’ cease with tho year 1840, when tho Waikouaiti agricultural settlement and the mission of dames Watkin began. Dr M‘Nab does give us as an appendix, less than nine pages of extracts from Watkin’s Journal, placed at his disposal by the missionary’s son, but those cover only the first six weeks of four years’ experiences. Mr Pratt has had the complete Journal to work on in his story, and from church records and the autobiography of the most southern evangelist, he is enabled to deal as fully with tho work of Creed and Wohlers. A good deal of Maori history is included in those sources, and the jarring impact of sectarian rivalries on the Natives’ religious life, described briefly in Shorthand's account of a single brief visit to Otago, can be studied .in full. What may bo called, the years of preparation for tho Otago main settlement are treated by Mr Pratt with a completeness which has always been lacking before. Two accidents caused Waikouaiti to be chosen for the first Wesleyan, and therefore the first Christian missionary labours in tho South Island. Watkin, a man of thirty-four years, with a seven years’ highly successful Tongun period behind him, was assigned by the English Wesleyan Conference to Otaki. But at the time when he was ready to go there, the Anglicans sent the Rev. Octavius Hadfield from the Bay of Islands to that district. Mr Pratt may be too downright in condemning this appointment as a breach of the agreement made betweeh Anglicans and Wosleyans for a delimitation of spheres. As the historian of the Anglican Church, the Rev. H. T. Purchas. interprets tho agreement, allotting the East Coast and West Coast to the respective churches, “ nothing -was said about the coast to the southward [of Raglan and Kawhia], and there was nothing whatever to prevent the settlement of Hadfield at Waikanae and Otaki in 1839.” The appointment of Hadfield, in any case, was made suddenly, due to unforseen circumstances. Tamihana Rauparaha, son of tho terrible chief, together with his cousin, had been converted to Christianity, - and they appeared at the Bay of Islands begging that a white teacher should be sent to their people. Hadfield, a consumptive young student, who had just arrived in New Zealand, agreed to go, and that appeal and offer could hardly be disregarded. “As well die there as here,” was Hadfield's. remark. He lived to be a highly effective evangelist, to save Wellington from a Maori invasion, and become, in his old age, a very stronghanded Primate of the church he served. Did the Anglicans know of the choice of Watkin to bo a missioner of their faith in To Rauparaha’s area? News travelled very slowly in those days; it seems almost certain that they did not. Mr Pratt supplies no evidence on the point.
Watkin had tho modern sense of the folly of denominational differences in a heathen country. Marsden had it before him ; Sehvyn, with his High Church training, at the beginning had it not. Watkin’s mission was diverted, on the responsibility of the Wesleyan Missionary Society's New Zealand . superintendent, to Waikouaiti, that site being chosen as the result of a second accident, an offer of special advantages by Mr “ Johnny ” Jones, who had just formed tho idea of au agricultural settlement. The irregular circumstances of Watkin’s appointment were possibly the cause of his church forgetting all about him, when once he had arrived at Waikouaiti, and leaving him for long months in a profounder loneliness, for want of reports, hooks, and letters; than, with ships plying fairly regularly between Otago and Sydney, it should have been necessary for him to endure. Anglican Native converts from the north, as the Journal records, made no little trouble in Watkin’s field after his work had well begun. They said that they came from Hadfiekl; the Journal does not say, however, that Hadfiekl sent them; we can imagine the Maoris themselves revelled not a little in these sectarian wars, the only wars which their new religion allowed them. Hadfield may not even have known of the existence of another missionary at Waikouati, when his converts first showed themselves so far south. We can thoroughly appreciate to-day the broadmindedness of Watkin, Creed, and Wohlers (who, though a Lutheran, made no attempts to found a purely Lutheran church at Iluapukc). The only reservation to be made is that such broadmindedness may bo easier to a new and smaller than to an established and powerful church. Selwyn did no small harm by his first intolerance. That is irtually admitted by the Anglican historian. As Mr Pratt points out, the later acts of Selwyn suggest that, with riper experience, he regretted it himself. Mr Pratt does full justice to Selwyn’a character in his final summing up of it. Apart from painful denominational differences, he has a stirring story to tell, and he tells it well. The Maoris of Otago were at their lowest pass when Watkin came to them. Epidemics of measles, in 1835, and of influenza, in the following year, had reduced their numbers, and the whalers were a demoralising influence. New hopes, a new manner of life, and new self-respect tvere the fruits or Watkin’s teaching. The missionary must have been a much brighter, more versatile being than would appear from the depressing pages of the Journal to attain the influence which he quickly acquired among them. Ironside called him the best-informed man he had ever met, and bore witness to his- “ sparkling humour.” He worked like a hero, holding five st ices on a Sunday, and tramping thirty miles in a day, where there wore no well-defined trucks. A worthy successor to him was Charles Creed, and Wohlers’s self-immolation at Ruapukc lasted for forty years. A vivid description is given of the old whaling station at Waikouaiti, and leaders of Southern Maoridom in that period—Tuhawaiki, Taiaroa, and others
—pass under close review. Christianity was well spread among the Southern Maoris as the result of Watkin’s work, when Tamihana Uanparaha made his first visit to disturb it, and, in face of Mr Pratt’s arguments, wo can dispense with tho fond fancy that Tamihana's mission to the tribes that his father had harried involved any special risks. Tamihana may have done better work further north than Otago. Mr Pratt tolls his talc picturesquely; a too constant straining for picturesqueness and tho dramatic is really a fault of Ids style. That fondness, however, does not impede the directness of his narrative, which deals on the whole most admirably with a storm-tossed and lurid time. Tho illustrations have a special value. Published by tho Epwortu Press, London. A BRILLIANT HOVEL With 1 Wedding Ring ’ Miss Beth Brown has scored a success that is likely to rival her recent effort ‘ For Men Only.’ Miss Brown writes frankly, and her theme is a daring one, but is handled delicately, and throughout she writes with charm. She tells a vivid story, which centres round Orlova, the beautiful ballerina, whose conquests of men are equalled only by her conquests of the ballot stage. Passionate, selfwilled, and always ripe for another affaire, tho ballerina is yet a lovable little figure, beloved by all tho members of the Russian troupe of which she is the head. Sasha, the ballorino, has conceived for her a hopeless sort of devotion, and then the ballerina, who is accustomed to men agreeing with her every mood, falls in love herself with a young American attorney. It is at this point that the author brings up the vexed question of domestic happiness versus a career and success on the stage. Sasha and other members of the troupe toll her that she must be wedded to her art, that it is a gift to the world. Her lover, however, asks her to decide on home life with him or tho stage. She postpones decision on the vital question—and loses the only man she has ever loved. Tho glamour of life has departed fertile ballerina, and though her art gains from tho experience she is a very different artiste from tho imperious) selfwilled young woman of a year or two before. Tragedy stalks in her train, and Sasha, to avoid her discovery of his duplicity in endeavouring to persuade her to remain on the stage, takes his life. Success after success comes to Orlova, but her restless soul is unsatisfied, and eventually she decides to retire from the stage when she is at the height of her career. Thou the author brings the reader to a fine climax, when the ballerina finds her solution to all the problems that beset her. Miss Brown takes her readers behind the scenes of tho Russian ballet, and gives them a vivid pen picture of the life and doings of the temperamental artists who comprise tho troupe. Tho ballerina is a brilliant character study, and Sasha is another well-drawn figure. The book is one of- more than ordinary merit and should be widely read. The publishers are Jarrolds’, and our copy is from Messrs Whitcombe and Tombs. CAPTAIN HENRY MORGAN Everyone who is in the slightest degree interested in history has heard of Captain Henry Morgan, the man who sacked tho city of Panama. In ‘ Panama is Burning ’ (Cassell and Co.). Philip Lindsay has written a graphic romance dealing*with the incident. It is Lard to say how, much is actual history and how much imagination. Tho author has made a judicious blend of fact and fiction, and the result is a lively account of a daring and impudent filibustering expedition that has captured and held the attention of British people down the centuries. Morgan was no idealist. It was not to humble Britain’s enemy on the Spanish Main, from patriotic motives, that gave the impulse to Morgan’s adventures. The lust of gold urged him on in his quest, in which he and his hard-bitten followers endured terrible hardships and privations and embarked on a venture of the greatest risk and daring, which was crowned with success. Morgan, in the eyes of the author, had admirable qualities, but his methods were such as to shock th sensibilities of people to-day. The romantic interest is enhanced by the mutual attraction of Morgan and Dona Marina de Guzman, the lovely daughter of Panama’s Governor. It is a stirring tale. 1 FRIENDS MAY KILL ’ ‘ Friends May Kill,’ by Richard Fade, is light up to date in characterisation and method of treatment. Cleverly written, we get first some excellent descriptions of Australia and Australian people in the remoter parts where, life is lived more or less in the raw, Jim Craddock, the natural son of a young woman who was attached to a mission station and an English remittance man who abandons her, and who is brought up under the hardest conditio; is the principal figure. He has notable qualities, and, notwithstanding his handicaps, ho achieves some measure of success when he goes to England at the invitation of a young man of title who has shared hardships with him in Australia. There he is introduced to London’s fast set, with its night clubs and extravagant follies. Ho marries one of its members, and a disturbed unnatural period ends on a note of tragedy. Craddock was not treated kindly by fate. Had he married the right girl his loyalty, simplicity, and courage would no doubt have carried him on to success and happiness. Our copy is from Messrs Whitenmbo and Tombs Limited. Cassells are the publishers. 1 MOSCOW IMPRESSIONS' ' Moscow Impressions,’ by Professor A. G. B. Fisher, of Otago University, is a pamphlet containing articles that have already appeared in print. They are the reflections of a thoughtful observer of conditions in Russia, and will be read with interest by all who are trying to understand the actual position in that much-discussed country. “ Inevitably,” says Professor Fisher, “ we saw and heard an undue properportion of pro-Bolshevists. But not all the sources of our information were thus biased Wo were able to
wander about Moscow and pick up impressions in exactly the same way as one might do in Paris or Berlin, and we conversed with Communists, both officials and others, with nonCommounists who were, however, working heart and soul for the success of the Five-year Plan, with some who were out of .sympathy with the Government on account of its rigid and illiberal regimentation of thought, and with newspaper correspondents, who were far from being uncritical admirers of the Soviet regime.”
A MYSTERY CHAIN Don’t be too critical of the facts when you read ‘ A Mystery Chain ’ by L. G. Moberly, because if you do it will spoil your enjoyment of a good, exciting tale replete with mystery and romance. Miss Moberly has a vivid imagination, and has made a capital story out of an impossible plot. There is an international dope gang controlled by a charming foreign woman, who cloaks her nefarious deeds under cover of philanthropical activities, an amazingly heroic young doctor, and a perfectly charming heroine, whose bump of perspicacity, however, is sadly lacking. Nevertheless, it is an entertaining talc. Our copy is from the publishers, Messrs Ward, Lock, and Co. (London). A CHARMING LOVE STORY ‘ This Year, Next Year, Some, Time ,’ by Berta Ruck (Cassell’s). Miss Berta Ruck is well known as the writer of love stories, and her latest novel is very good indeed. It is one that should appeal to all who liko this class of story. She takes as her theme the question of a long engagement versus a short engagement, and the story of Posy Wynn, beautiful and unsophisticated little Welsh girl, is admirably written. Her love Tor the steady and unemotional George Stirling is rather a beautiful thing, but one cannot help feeling that she deserves a better fate, and when in the last pages of the book she transfers her affections to a more appreciative young man one cannot but help thanking the author for her good judgment in so changing the course of the story. Our copy comes from the publishers. ROMANTIC ADVENTURES IN ITALY ‘ For the Delight of Antonio,’ by Beatrice Curtis Brown (Macmillan and Co.). Romantic adventures in Italy of a young Englishman, Richard Campion, form the basis of this story by Beatrice Curtis Brown, and it is set in the second decade of the last century, dealing with risings in Italy at the time. Richard Campion is just an average young English student, but in his search for the head of a noble Italian house he meets with some surprising adventures and makes the acquaintance of a varied crowd of people who aro well depicted by the author. The hook is well written and the story interesting, our copy coming from Messrs Whitconibe and Tombs. •THE PITIFUL LADY' A light but very pleasing novel is Katharine Tynan’s new story, entitled The Pitiful Lady ’ (Ward, Lock, and Co.). It is the story of a young girl who, through rescuing a dog from a dangerous position, comes in contact with a delicate, dumb little girl, and she becomes her companion till she eventually reaches a more happy situation. There are in all three love stories in the one big story, and the authoress has skilfully woven the threads of all concerned in the tale so that the reader’s interest is at once captured and held till the last page of the novel. The story is charmingly told, it is pathetic in parts, and, above all, it is well written. AUSTRALIAN BUSHRANGING DAYS No one who likes a book packed with action and with the right amount of romantic colour introduced will miss reading ‘ The Bushmaster,’ by Ben Holt (Ward, Lock, and Co.). It is a story of the Australian bushranging days, and the Bushmaster is a glamorous figure who is wanted by the police of New South Wales, but who is looked upon with a certain amount of awe and respect by half the countryside, lie has been a gentleman, and his reputation is not that of a “ killer,” though he is the consort of scoundrels who would stop at no villainy. He is nearly captured by Trooper Brendon, between whom and the Bushmaster there is an amazing likeness. It is this similarity in appearance which leads up to the grand climax, but not before the reader has been ehtertained with not a few hold-ups and half a hundred thrills. Just the right amount of romantic interest is introduced, and all who read | The Bushmaster ’ are likely to vote it a good yarn. Our copy comes from the publishers. * GULFS' The words of the song, 11 you can’t judge a book by its cover,” certainly apply to ‘ Gulfs,’ by Lieutenant-colonel Noel Craig. Judging by the paper wrapper, one would expect to find a blood-and-thunder story, but the tale unfolded inside is excellent in every way. It is a story of a British officer who marries a wealthy American girl, and the gulfs are the essential differences between the two great Englishspeaking nations. Although this is said to be the main theme of the novel, it is not stressed too much, and is really only the lesser part of the story, which gives a splendid description of conditions in Hungary just after the armistice. The period covered by the author is before and during the war in America, the war in Paris, and the revolution in Hungary. There is plenty of excitement in this story, and the author has a happy style. The characters are good, and the whole story is well constructed and presented. Our copy is from the publishers, Messrs Herbert Jenkins Ltd. (London). AN AMUSING FARCE ‘ Crazy Days,’ by Stanley Lupine (Herbert Jenkins).— Crazy Days ’ is a most amusing farce from the pen of that delightful humorist, Stanley Lupiuo. The author takes the reader from one breathlessly hilarious situation to another, and no one will complain of lack of action. The whole story is a glorious mix-up. The hero has an aunt who has been led to believe that her nephew is married and that he is a famous author. As he is neither, one can readily imagine the forebodings with which ho receives news of the visit of his wealthy aunt. A party happens to bo in progress at the time, and by a scries of mishaps, the aunt is greeted on her arrival by her nephew’s three “ wives.” Further complications lead the dear old lady to believe that a plot is afoot to do away with her, and there aro many more laughter-provoking pages before a satisfactory finale is readied. Our copy of a most amusing book comes from the publishers. Mr John Hampsou, whose novel, ‘ 0 Providence ’ was the subject of a recent review, is a grandson of Mercer Hampson Simpson, a famous manager of the Theatre Royal, Birmingham. He was born in 1901, and lives in Warwickshire,
NOTES Sir George Hutchinson, the publisher who died recently, left £73,000. Georgette Hover, the novelist who recently published her first “thriller" (‘ Footsteps in the Hark ’), is the wife of Mr G. R. llougicr, the Rugby player. They keep a sports shop at Horsham, in Sussex. “ The one thing I want about an anthology," says Mr Hugh de Selincourt, “ is that the compiler should follow his own taste, and never insert poems for the weak reason, ‘ Oh, well, that must bo in. 1 ! 1
The composer of the Eton boating song, Captain Algernon Hencage Drummond, lias died at Winchester in his eighty-eighth year. He went to Eton in the eighteen-fifties.
Ex-superintendent Neil, who is writing a volume of reminiscences, was formerly one of the “ Big Four ” of Scotland Yard.
Mr Desmond MacCarthy, the distinguished literary critic, has received the degree of LL.D at Aberdeen University.
Captain F. Kingdon Ward, tho naturalist, explorer, and author, lias returned to London from Upper Burma, where ho has been collecting rare plants.
Mr Sean O’Faolain, who has written a volume of short stories under the title of ‘ Midsummer Night Madness, 1 first wrote in Gaelic. Ho was born at Cork in 1900, and whs at one time a director of propaganda for tho I.R.A. Miss Daphne Du Maurier, daughter of Sir Gerald Du Maurier, has written a second novel entitled ‘ 1111I 1 11 Never Be Young Again. 1 Her first, ‘ The Loving Spirit, 1 appeared last year.
A copy of GoldsraitlTs poem ‘ Tho Haunch of Venison, 1 published in 1776 at one shilling, has been sold in Loudon for £7B.
Mr Christopher Morlcy’s now book, ‘ Swiss Family Manhattan, 1 is—it is to be guessed from the title—a light satire on contemporary American life. Mr Robinson and his family are wrecked, from an airsliip, on the unfinished top stories of Now York ! s most astonishing skyscraper. What follows will surprise more than the Robinsons.
Tho collection of hitherto unpublished letters from Dr Johnson to Mrs eldest daughter, “ Queenic.” who was left in his guardianship, will be issued in a limited edition by Messrs Cassell. The letters were found in the library at Bowood by Lord Lansdowno, who has edited them and contributed an introduction.
A correspondence has broken out in one of the provincial newspapers of England as to which particular street Tennyson alluded in the well-known lino of ‘ In Memoriaia,’ which mentions the “long unlovely street” in which the younger Hallam had once lived. The honours are almost evenly divided between Gower street and Wimpole street (of Barrett-Browning fame), neither of them especially beautiful.
Two new books by Sir W. S. Gilbert are promised, though they will not be ready for some months. One volume contains ‘ The Lost Bab Ballads,’ collected for the first time from early volumes of ‘ Fun ’ and other periodicals by Mr Townley Searle, who contributes an introduction. The other book presents a newly-discovered play, entitled ‘ A Colossal Idea,’ and includes an introduction by the same editor. Both books are illustrated..
Lady Patricia Russellj author of ' The Heartless Traveller,’ is the youngest daughter of the second Marquess of DufFerin and Ava, and granddaughter of the first Marquess, who waS Viceroy of India. Her great-great-grandfather was Richard Brinsley Sheridan. At the age of nineteen she left home and became for five months housemaid in a country house under the name of Annie Muggins. This exploit was prompted by “ her dislike of society.” She has toured Australia with a theatrical company, and has also acted on the London stage. Her husband is Mr Henry Russell, advisory director of the Boston Opera House and half-brother of Sir Landon Ronald.
Mr J. B. Priestley considers that Mr Aldous Huxley, in spite of his reputation as a novelist, “ is really far more at home in the essay form than in fiction, and it is in the essay that he reveals a much more charming personality. Ho uses fiction as his ragbag, and some very queer rags, too, he has to throw away. But he remains one of the most exciting, just as he is one of the most brilliant, performers in contemporary letters.” Strange as it may seem, in spite of Mr Priestley’s own success as a novelist, there are readers who think that he also is at his best as an essayist.
In Sotheby’s saleroom, London, in February was a small oil painting showing Charles Dickens bowling the first ball in a charity match in the meadow at Gad's Hill, while the players wave their caps and cheer the “ patron ” for acting as their host. Sir Henry Dickens, K.C., the novelist’s youngest son, has a letter from his father, written in 1862, promising to lend his meadow to the Higham Cricket Club, as he wished to be a good friend to the working men in his neighbourhood. Incidentally, Dickens criticised the language he had heard used at a previous match, and expressed a. hope that it Avould not be repeated, though he thought it was “ probably unintentional.” The painting shows Dickens bowling an “ underarmer,” and his stance bv no means suggests that the batsman is in any danger,
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Bibliographic details
Evening Star, Issue 21090, 30 April 1932, Page 19
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6,019BOOKS AND BOOKMEN Evening Star, Issue 21090, 30 April 1932, Page 19
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