BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

Evening Star, Issue 21904, 15 December 1934, Page 25

BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

A LITERARY CORNER

WTWER IN NEW ZEALAND . (To 8.E.8.) N 0 June has her diamonds, her diamonds of sbeen, , ..-,-,, A Meet for a queen's neck, if Death Dad e'er a queen! . June has her blue days, jewels oi de- ' light, ~,!•! Set in the ivory of Alp-land white But October, October's the lady o the year! O January's garland is redder than the And the ' wine-red ruby of January Slows All the way to madness and halt the way to sin, .When. sle,ep is in the poppy and fire is in the whin! ■ But October, October's the lady o' the year! \ October will ride in a mantle o' she vair, . With the flower o' the quince in her dew-wet hair; » October will ride to the gates of the dav, With, the bluebells ringing on her maiden way;— For October, October's the lady o the year! . ' '• . —Jessie .Maekay. -;' SOW W THE DMFT WEED Here's to the home that was never, never ours! Toast it full and fairly when the win.ter lowers. . . Speak ye low, my merry men, sitting at your ease; Harken to the homeless Drift in the roaring seas! Here's to the life we shall never live on earth! Cut for us awry, awry ages ere the birth. S«t the teeth and meet it well, wind upon the shore; Like a lion, in the face look the Nevermdre! Here's to the fore we were never let to win! What of that? a many shells have a pearl within; Some are mated with the gold in the light of day; Some are buried fa.thoms deep, in the seas away. Here's to the selves we shall never, s never be! ' We're the drift of the world and the . tangle of/the sea. It's far beyond the Pleiad, it's out ■beyond the sun I .Where the rootless shall be rooted when the 'wander-year is done! —Jessie Maekay. JESSIE MACKAY I ; A NEW ZEALAND TESTIMONIAL Fellow-writers and admirers throughout New Zealand are presenting this evening a written testimonial and a more substantial token of their esteem to Miss Jessie Maekay, who 'holds a unique place in New Zealand letters. The gathering will be held in Christchurch, but a greater number than can possibly attend will be present in spirit. It was a happy thought of Christchurch admirers that such recognition should be made while it could be appreciated. Top many poets have had a hard.time till they were dead. • The recipient's birthday makes a most fitting- time for this act of homage. Miss Mackay's age may be found at the end of anthologies. Suffice'it to say here that if Henry Lawson had lived he would be three years younger. Robert Bridges was much older when he wrote his most famous poem. ■ There were writers of verse in.New' Zealand before Jessie Maekay. But there were no better writers. There have been no'better writers of it since. If a plebiscite of :■ her peers could be taken to : say who, in their opinion, in this small ■ country., had reached highest in their calling, and held those heights most naturally and most sustainedly, there is no«doubt how the vote would go. And it would bo a vote for the first real poetess—or poet—in New Zealand who was New Zealand-born. Those distinctions explain Miss Mackay's " unique " place in vthis country's letters. • His Excellency the Governor-General said some time ago that there were two men then living in N,ew Zealand whose names would be remembered when all those who are to-day most prominent as makers and simpers of the State were forgotten. They were Sir Truby King arid Dr L. Cockayne. If Lord Bledisloe, whose interests' arc all-embracing, but not all equal—since he is human—had leaned as much to literature as he does to science, he might well have named a womanv with them, and there is no doubt who the woman would have been. When New Zealand-born poets are more numerous—there are whole groves of them'showing promise now—when development is traced back in»future days, there will be no ordinary interest in the first. Her best flights will be wondered at as they have not been yet. Eileen Duggan may equal her; that will not cause surprise; we have watched Eileen Duggan grow; but no one else can be the pioneer. A few pages of Miss Mackay's handwriting—the M.S. of a lyric—may then be worth many times as much as the best of her poems has brought new. At least one person has preserved scraps with that notion m mind. But he may he long dead before that value accrues.

Why the value? The writer has before him a little book bearing the incongruous title —incongruous at first sight with its authorship—‘ The Sitter on the Rail and Other Poems,’ by Jessie Mackay. With a paper cover it was published at one shilling forty-three years ago. No title, in a sense apart from poetry, could have been more prophetic. The ‘ Sitter on the Rail,’ the piece which gave its name to the volume, was political satire. It breathed the passion of a political reformer; and Miss Mackay has;bcen a politician and a reformer ever since. It was the sort of verse which Kendall often wrote, perhaps with less conviction, to keep the pot boiling, and Tennyson \yben the affronted patriot in him rose above the poet. But there is'poetry also in tins little volume —‘ The Passing of Mac-

% « Phail,' Scottish ballad type, without'the Scots; ' Maisrie,' in Miss Mackay's best Doric style, and ' Sydney,' in the best style not her own. Nearly everything she was to do later is prefigured in this booklet to a discerning eye, but her polities henceforth, with her humour, was to be reserved for prose. It was not her first volume. That was ' The Spirit of the Rangatira and Other Ballads,' published Mn Melbourne in 1889, of which the writer has never seen a copy. Half a dozen copies of ' The Sitter on the Rail ' he bought up when.) they were found, sole remaining stock of it, in a provincial bookseller's. It <vas not till 1908 that Miss Mackay's next collection appeared, ' The Maori Sea,' and 1910 saw the most important one, ' Land of the Morning. But for*years before the first ot these was published her poems were well known from weekly newspapers, English magazines, and one very early—and in large part verv bad-—Australian anthology. 'The Grey, Company ' and ' Sprmg Fires ' were classics in Ganter- | bury. The first caught the breath with its silences: O the grey, grey company Of the pallid dawn! 0 the ghostly faces, Ashenlike and drawn! The Lord's' lone sentinels Dotted down the years, The little grey company Before the pioneers! The second sang, as. no New Zealand poet perhaps had sung before and as Jessie Mackay was to" sing time and again: The running rings of snow.on the Canterbury hills, Running, ringing, dying at the border of the snow! - ■ Mad, young, seeking, as a young thing The ever, -ever-living, ever-buried long ago. • " ' ', Here was New Zealand poetry at New Zealand in subject as well as in birth. " Jessie Mackay," the late Judge Alpers wrote, "is a native of Canterbury, having been born. on the wincl-swept uplands of the Rakaia. Her trirlhood was passed on a sheep station m South Canterbury of which hei father was manager. She was educated in Christchurch, and. was engaged foi four years in teaching. When lie wrote her journalistic career, which lasted much longer had not begun « . 'Land of the Morning has been treasure trove for later anthologiesAiistralian as well as New Zealand. No one else in New Zea and leaps to a poem like Jessie Mackay: L$ h * , « good for the living, long light for the lover!" "Here's to the , home that \was never, never ours!"; ''OJmjeJa. her diamonds, her diamonds of sheen! (It is pleasant to know that those last verses were addressed to Miss B. h. Baughan; no fewer than three women poetl these two and the late Miss Col-borne-Veel, have brought distinction on Christchurch.)" Where the best others tread lightly or gracefully she flies into the air and sings. She has the magic of single lines. What other phrase ever described New Zealand sc'briefly and so happily as " Land of the fleet-foot mist and singing water 2> ? She writes a' request poem for a Canterbury jubil«kj and " Bride and darling ot the rivers" is the first phrase she calls forth. ' The Burial of. Sir John M'Kenssio ' has its unforgettable lines. And her politics have been as ardent as her poetry. She 1 , is for all the oppressed, or the seemingly oppressed—all women without the vote, all countries without self-government, • for Armenia, for Ireland.' Impracticable politics, it is easy; to say. That depends on the length ot view. And if an anthology should ever be made of New Zealand prose, there also Jessie Mackay might very easily take first place. . . 'A vounger woman writer, in a book of memories and gossip which has just been published, mentions a Japanese who was asked why he came to New Zealand. To<the great surprise of his questioner he replied that he had come here to see Jessie Mackay. We believe that story is authentic. Presumably his interest was in the reformer. There are Australians who find Miss Mackay the chief distinction of New Zealand by virtue of her poetry. 'She has a sister there, of Highland stock like herself, Mary Gilmore —so much a reformer, like her, that she shared in her youth in the 'Paraguay adventure. Mary Gilmore—in her prose more than hei poetry—and the late Katharine Tynan —theSe are the oversea peers of the •New Zealand writer. ' Alice Meynell is not of that coinpany; she is too English, too consistently austere. Her art mav reach higher, her thought reach further, but by either of the others it might be said to her " You are sheen and steadfastness; I am sheen and motion." And before either of the others Jessie Mackay is the witch woman, who sees veiled things in her shield. She can be imaged also as a " dreamer dreaming greatly in the man-stifled town," any notice taken of herself. But no one has ever been more appreciative of the least or .the best efforts of others.

Years ago it was said by a visitor, and another visitor thinks it may still bo true;—“ In respect of natural beauty and the general excellence of the climate New Zealand may compare with Lycia in Asia Minor. . . . But how different the civilisation in the two places! Two centuries lienee, should English civilisation and power be overthrown. a few ruined embankments, bridges, fragments of locomotives and dynamos, and ugly buddings of all sorts would alone testify that here the English Empire had been planted.” Jessie Mackay’s poems should go further than most things to’ redeem us from that reflection.—W.F.A.

HEW BOOKS ' RETREAT FROi GL&RY ' M BRUCE LOCKHART'S HEW BOOK Mr Bruce Lockhart finished his 'Memoirs of ;t British Agent' on his return from Russia, he having been Consular agent at Moscow during the war and at the time of the revolution. This book had a tremendous sale. Now he has followed it up with one equally as interesting, entitled ' Retreat From Glory,' which is likely to be as successful as the first. Central Europe since Versailles is his theme, and he speaks from intimate and first-hand knowledge. Though Mr Lockhart writes so entertainingly, it is a depressing picture that he gives. It must be so it he is to speak the truth, for Central Europo is a seething cauldron that is likely to boil over at any moment. This is illustrated in the present tension between Yugoslavia and Hungary. The book opens with the author back in London from Russia. The delegates are gathering at Versailles for the Peace Conference. Perplexed as to what he shall do next, the author makes a decision and goes to Prague as secretary under the Ambassador (Sir George Clerk). Here he is in the thick of things, 1 for States are being rebuilt and the conflict of races following the war is acute. During the last sixteen years he has been a close observer, ri"ht on the spot, of. the shifting and dramatic changes in Central European politics. He lias explored the various countries as diplomatist, banker, and 1 private adventurer. The years that be spent in Prague are described with all Mr Lockhnrt f s clarity, perception, and literary ability. He' gives discriminating sketches of the figures—political and diplomatic—who have been so prominent on the stage in the post-war years. Naturally there is much about President Masaryk and Dr Edward Benes (Czechoslovakia's Foreign Minister), and the author is a discriminating admirer of these two patriots. How shrewd a judge of Central European conditions Mr Lockhart is may be judged from the following extract from his book:—" I have always -held (the opinion that even without the war the collapso of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy was inevitable. I could see no sense in a restoration which would be violently opposed by the twenty-one million Slavs and Rumanians who had been liberated by the Peace Treaties. The Hapsburgs, too, were like the Romanoffs. They had no candidate capable of sustaining the role. ... J was in favour of a proper frontier readjustment in favour of Hungary. But when I asked myself whether any Hungarian would' be satisfied with a strictly just revision I was forced to answer ' No.' I favoured any scheme which, while safeguarding the political liberties of the new States,- would help: to restore the free flow of trade between the Succession States and which would put an end to the ridiculous system of Chinese walls behind which Hungary, an agricultural State, was erecting an uneconomic' textile .industry, while Czechoslovakia, her neighbour and a huge industrial country, was trying to increase her agricultural production. The author considers that all the Succession States must bear their share for the misfortunes of Central Europe—--1 Austria for the culpably light-hearted ,'administration of her public and pritvate finances; feudal Hungary ■ for a characteristic intolerance and intransigence which have been intensified rather than curbed by the war; and Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, and Rumania for an egotism which one day they may have cause to regret. " But the most malevolent influence was the influence of France, who, having got Germany down, was determined to keep her there, and who, by building up a system of military alliances in Central Europe, encouraged the Czechs, the Rumanians, and the Slays to adopt a similar policy towards Austria and Hungary." In a. dejected mood Mr Lockhart writes later on:—"That night we all sat up very late talking of the past and the future. The present had brought little, satisfaction to' any of us. There was none of us who had not been influenced by the Russian revolution, and we looked on the state of Europe with profound pessimism. Certainly there was nothing ndbJe or generous in the conduct of European affairs. Everywhere speculation and self-seeking wore rampant, and in the new States tho spectacle or honest peasants converting themselves as rapidly as possible into dishonest bourgeois was nauseating. Individual selfishness vied with national selfishness in a common effort to hold and add to its gains. Only one law prevailed—brute force—and it was used unsparingly to make the weak weaker and the strong stronger. The idealists had failed, because they had not the necessary will power to translate their ideals into action." In the author's opinion Czechoslovakia has been the one unqualified success of the new States of Europe. Having particular interest at the moment is the position between Hungary and Yugoslavia, and Mr Lockhart has some illuminating comments on this problem. "What makes Mr. Lockhart's book so interesting is the spice that it contains arising from "his engaging frankness. This might have been a dull book, though accurate and informative. It is quite the reverse of dull. Mr Lockhart has a lively wit, an attractive literary style, and graphic descriptive powers in relation to world events and the prinlipal actors that move across the Central European stage. Our copy of ' Retreat from Glory ! is from Putnam and Co., London. 'PUNCH ' ALMANACK Mr Punch's Almanack for 1935 contains sixteen/pages in colour, twentythree of black and white drawings, and another nine of stories and verse—the wliole representing the best work of Mr Punch's famous band of contributors. Twelve artists share the coloured plates, Arthur Watts, Lewis Baumer, George, Morrow, and " Fougasse " contributing two apiece. The black and white drawing* include work by Ernest Shepard, George Morrow, and others whose work is a ncvor-ending source of delight lo ' Punch ' renders. Of the ' Almanack ' as n whole, it may he said that, it is up to the standard of past years, which is high pcaise.

A JOURNALIST'S RECOLLECTIONS With only twelve years' experience in journalism—a period that would give experience more restricted than that open to a man—' Kooin Hyde," who has a deservedly strong reputation for her verses and short stories, has published a book of reminiscences under the title of ' Journalese.' At first it would appear that she was presumptuous in publishing her recollections. Her experiences have been commonplace, but she lias written with extreme brightness and freedom in an inconsequential flow of jottings. The writing of the book appears to have been done for no particular purpose other than to give the author some amusement and to provide entertainment for her readers. It will certainly do the latter, for " Robin Hyde," which hides the identity of Miss Ins Wilkinson, has a happy style. SJie commits lese majeste in every page, but there is nothing nocuous or malicious. It is sheer good fun, and can be most kindly described as ■ the effervescence of a young lady infected with cacoethes scribendi. For once she has had the opportunity of writing beyond the shadow of a draconic subeditor or the menace of the blue pencil, and she has abandoned herself to a work which, from the sparkle of her book, was a relaxation. At times she commits the worst journalistic error—inaccuracy—but there is nothing of the journalese in the book. She has most decided views on most subjects and is not afraid to ventilate _ thorn; those who are perhaps more intimate with some of the subjects on which she has let herself go freely will disagree with her. She is no respecter of persons, particularly those in the newspaper profession, but what she punches out with one hand she takes back with a gentle caress with the other. Her views on certain newspapers are amusing but far from correct. Robin jiyde is full of indiscretion in 'Journalese,' but no one will be harmed, for she indulges in her sly digs with considerable grace and merriment. ' Journalese ' is very breezy and excellently written. Published by the National Printing Company (Auckland), the volume itself is distinctly well set up and produced. The dust_ cover is a clever and graphic description of *the contents of the very readable book. ' GOOB-BYE, MR CHIPS ' ' Good-bye, Mr Chips ' (Hodder and Stoughton), is from the pen of James Hilton, whose ' Lost Horizon' as hailed as a book of outstanding merit/ There is no need, however, to mention that novel in order to suggest that MiHilton's latest effort is worthy 'of attention. ' Good-bye, Mr Chips,' is a delightful book. Mr Chips is a school master, who, having not particular ability, with only a moderate degree, and almost an inferiority complex, began his career in awkwardness and diffidence, and ended it beloved by masters and boys alike. Mr Hamilton has drawn a singularly interesting personage—quiet, steadfast, patient, unselfish, with none of the dynamic qualities that make for worldly success. The author makes Mr Chips's life stand out by subtly-shaded comparisons. We seo younger, more talented, aggressive, and self-confident masters come to an end of their lives in dissatisfaction and disillusionment, while Mr Chips, having lost himself in others,'attains a happy old age and a peaceful passing. Mr Chips, when he is forty-eight, and apparently a confirmed bachelor, falls in love during a climbing holiday, and marries a girl about half his age. Her death within a year or so ends a love ■ idyll. A shattering reverse, to Mr Chips, he carries on serenely, the outside world knowing little of the devastating blow that Fate has dealt him. The author lias a rare understanding of boy life. ' Good-bye", Mr Chips,' is compounded of laughter and tears and human, and a wide tolerance. The author has skilfully avoided the pitfall of mawkish sentimentality and _ exaggeration. He shows unobtrusively how much greater character is than mere worldly achievement and the prizes for which men so eagerly strive. ' Good-hye, Mr Chips,' is a short book, but it. is strengthened by a wise economy of words. ' THE BUBBLE GALLEON ' ' The -Bubble Galleon,' by Ernest Wells, the pictures b'y R. W. Coulter, is original, clever, and humorous; just the book that will appeal to children. Two Sydney children are awakened at night by a visitor from the Land of Baste, where live those born in that timeless period between the death of the old year and the birth of the new. A kind of pied piper, with magic gifts and hypnotic influence over children, he takes them in a magic bubble (the Bubble Galleon) to that land where he is High Time Commissioner and where tlio seasons are kept. Then begin strange and diverting adventures. This book is another illustration of the ability of Australian writers and artists that has become so pronounced of late. As is often done in books of this kind, natural history is unobtrusively woven into the story. The publishers are Angus and Robertson, Svdney. "' Australians All, Bush Folk in Rhyme' is from the same firm. The author of the rhymes is Nellie Grant Cooper, and the illustrations are by Dorothy Wall. On. the first page we are told: Herein you'll find the Kangaroo, The Platvpus, Koala, too, The Rabbit,, and some insects small, Birds, reptiles, beasts —you'll find them all. This is r|uite true. Many of Australia's quaint wild creatures are cleverly pictured, with appropriate rhymes. Here is one about the cassowary : It really is not necessary To talk'about the Cassowary; So tall and timid, proud and wary, Its nature seems to me contrary. MURDER IH THE WEST INDIES Mr R. Denbie's latest book, 'Death Cruises South ' reintroduces the ingenious Dr Pace, famous in the field of mystery stories for the part he played m the ' Timetable Murder.' . The story, set in the agreeable environment ot Bermuda, deals with, the death of the manager of a theatrical company, who was found dead with his head battered in by a large rock, in a drifting sailing boat. The local police wore baffled and enlisted the aid of Dr Pace. Among the theatrical company and others, an embarrassing number of possible suspects arose and the famous criminologist had to make a dose study of winds, currents., and navigation, and to play a clever trick with ink pencils before be caught his man. Mr H. Denbic draws his characters with skill and the reader knows each intimately before ilie hook is finished. The publishers of this very clever story are Messrs Ivor, Nicholson, and Watson L.td.

GEGIL ROBERTS Mr Cecil llobcrts is invariably interesting. He always has a story to tell, and he narrates it in a convincing way. His latest book is entitled ' The Guests Arrive.' In ' Sails of Sunset ' he wrote,- about the Venetian lagoons, and his "readers will be glad that be has returned to that historic part of Italy. The story arises from incidents in the life of Anton Salzenthal, a . world-famed pianist, and his temperamental love affairs. The great man dies in his schloss at Zell-am-zee. i In his will he leaves to a girl in a Lon- | don office earning her daily bread a substantial sum of money and his summer retreat in a lagoon to the South of Venice, between the mainland and Pellestrina. It transpires that she is I the daughter of Sabzenthal, her mother being Madame Adela Torelli, a noted vocalist, the stage name that she adopted in place of her English one of Longman. Cleopatra, the girl in the case, rejoices in her good fortune. She finds a staunch friend in Salzenthal's late confidential manager. Herr Teller, and on his advice she decides to use the old-time fort, which has been turned into a picturesque mansion,-for use as a pension. Here we meet a mixed and entertaining company—a finespirited American of seventy-five who has escaped from her selfish relatives in Buffalo; an English colonel, insula, intolerant, concerned entirely with his own comforts; two old friends in Mrs Cressington and Mrs Braintree ; an Italian, count and countess and her mother; young Anton Teller, with a magnificent body containing the spirit of a pagan, and others who, if not so alive and alert, help to complete an interesting group. Those who have read ' Souls of Sunset' will remember Mr Roberts's little vignettes of Venice and her history and traditions, and will find this book equally interesting. The author has blended love and romance, tragedy and comedy in a skilful way. Our copy is from the publishers "(Hodder and Stougbton). ' , - A TALE OF TROUBLOUS TIMES Conditions analogous with those of the present time form the background to the happenings described in Wray Hunt's latest novel, ' Captain Swing.' The time is during the industrial revolution, when work was- scarce owing to the introduction of the new-fangled machines which enabled one man to do the work of many. Feeling was running high between the working classes- and the employers of labour over the question, and bands of workers made desperate bv the high prices of foodstuffs and the lack of work roamed the country, burning- the ricks arid destroying the hated machines. The machines brought increased prosperity to the landlords, but misery to the town and country labourer. Actual starvation existed, and discontent was rife. Into this state of affairs comes Allan Gorling, son of a squire, who attempts to prevail on his father to give the workers on the estates easier conditions. The squire refuses, and in disgust Allan becomes head of one of the secret societies of the Cinque Ports, " The Men of Hastings," under the fateful pseudonym of Captain Swing. Cast off by his father, whose death ensues, and later, distrusted by the men whose cause he' champions, young Gorling's fight for the under-dogs is a thing of drama and tragedy; but his pathetic failure is finer than mere_ worldly success. Woven into the story is the simple, love story of Allan and Lucy Faber. Apart frona the historic interest of the story, no fault can be found with the quality of the adventures, and if the vituperation of the working classes against the landlords tends to become over-florid, it has the effect of conveying the spirit of hatred which existed between the two classes. Ivor Nicholson and Watson are the publishers. 'MUSCARA' ' Muscara,' by Edward Charles, is an exceptionally well-written novel. The period is a feiv years hence, but the author does not pretend to "forecast future events, with tjie exception that Britain has no dominions. _ Trains are still running and big business is still big business. Muscara isthe name of a wine with peculiarly genial properties, made popular by an intensive advertising campaign conducted by one of the principal characters. The two exploiters who placo this remarkable wine on the market have a son and daughter apiece, but the daughter is married to a penniless young squire who hates his wife's £IO,OOO a year and goes off to Kenya to shoot things. "It is a fine study in character, with a faint touch of irony in some cases. The conclusion of the story comes as a surprise. Our copy is from the publishers, Messrs Methuen and Co., London,. ' MR JUSTICE PHiLBANK* Mr Paul Trent has provided another of his intrigijing mystery stories in ' Mr Justice Philbank,' a novel with an unusual seating concerning the life of a judge who has the reputation of being one of the severest judges on the bench, prisoners dreading to come before him for sentence. His Lordship held an assize at Grandchester, where he tried a charming woman for the murder of her husband. All the evidence had been given, and only the judge's summing-up remained when the court, adjourned for the day. Next morning the butler finds him in' his bed' stabbed to the heart. As there are several people who might have had motives for the deed; the police are in a difficult position, but, after a number iof clues have been followed, the crime is at length traced to the butler, who under another name had been sentenced at one (time by the judge. The judge's daughter, Anina, a charming girl, is intimately concerned with the solving of the mystery, and, of course, there is a delightful romance to pleasantly round off the story. The publishers are Messrs Ward, Lock, and Co. Limited, London. • THE PRICE OF ADVENTURE ' 'The Price of-Adventure' is a delightful story by William Holt concerning the adventures of a weaver, Jack Coates. who tries to work out the problem of his life, first for a short time at Oxford during his training for a commission in the Army, then during the war, in his post-war difficulties of trying to settle down, and during a trip through Spain, to which, romantic country lie travels with Victoria Marie, with whom he has fallen in love. These two are victims of wander-lust, and their journeying through Spain gives Mr Holt some excellent opportunities for interesting narrative. When they return from Spain Coates goes hack tq hisjoonis, but he knows they will never satisfy him. His determination' to do something about it brings success, and he at last finds tlio right niche, with everything to find happiness for Victoria and himself. The pub' : *hers arc Messrs Ivor Nicholson and Watson Limited, London.

STORY OF EARLY MORMONS With the early history of the Mormons as the backbone, a story ot romance and exciting adventure is told by Dane Coolidge in ' The Fighting Danites.' The story opens in Salt Lake City, where the body ,of converts settled in 1847 under the leadership o) Brigham Young, and where the main character, a young lieutenant in the United States Army, is introduced. He is at a Mormon dance, and violates the principle of the army by snatching a dance with* Tamar Young, daughter of the leaderof the sect. The young man's weakness is in his complete inability to resist the advances of any charming woman, and l so it is that his colonel decides to send him away to arrest Bishop Drake in connection with a massacre of long ago, when a whole company of white people was wiped out by the fighting Mormons. The bulk of the story deals with his adventures while on this mission, and is packed by a succession of thrilling incidents that are as unexpected as they are interesting, Although a work of fiction, ' The Fighting Danites ' covers a great deal of truth regarding early Mormonism, and the crimes of the fighting body of saints supply the author with excellent material. A review copy has been received from Messrs Whitcombe and Tombs. UNUSUAL STORY In ' A Girl Tumbles Out of the Sky ' Kathrin Holland has penned a" story of some interest. The book coming at the present time when practically the whole world is airminded, and being _ th© story of a daring young aviatrix is unusual in theme and should please any reader, man or woman, who enjoys a good straight-forward novel. When flying back to Berlin from a flying show in Amsterdam, Camilla Bauer, the air woman, is forced down on the sea through a defect in the engine of her plane. Luckily there is a boat near by at the time and the crew go to her rescue. On the voyage to Berlin on the boat, Camilla falls in love with Dr Kai Mattiessen, a scientist explorer, and Mattiessen, although a man who has a nervous dread of the tyranny of love and resents the entry of woman into the great world of action finds himself attracted by the boyish Camilla. In fact he becomes so fond of the girl that by the time they reach the home port he tries to persuade her to abandon her solo flight, to India, but in vain, for he finds that be is up against a will just as strong and free as his. own. The lovers go their respective ways, each on _ a perilous _ journey—Camilla to India and Mattiessen at the head of 1 another _ exploration expedition. At this point fate takes a hand, and Camilla becomes the gallant rescuer of Kai when he is lost in the icy wastes of Greenland. The story is written in a brisk style* and this tof other with the unusual theme help o lift this novel_ a little above the average. The review copy is from the publishers, Ivor. Nicholson and Wateon Ltd. v NOVEL OF THE GREAT NORTH-WEST James B. Hyndryx, author' of the famous ' Connie Morgan ' stories, ' Raw Gold ' and many other books about the Great North-west, has hit the trail again, this time' with, ' The Yukon Kid.' In this book, Hyndryx has_ given his readers a tale of a gold strike on the Yukon, and his vivid descriptions of life in the gold country are written as only a man who knows the life could write them. In ' The Yukon Kid' we have young Tom Haldane, who has to choose between his love for Kitty and the gold fever. This leads to a quarrel and Tom joins the gold rush, while Kitty leaves for the city. When this happens young Haldane thinks that lie has lost the girl he loves, but after a long space of time the pair are brought together again and tbe events leading up to the reunion provide material for a good interesting yarn. Our copy ■is from Whitcombe and Tombs Ltd. NOTES The official biography of the late Lord Grey of Fallodon is to. be written by Professor G. ,M. Trevelyan. The late Dr E. J. Dillon, whose biography, 'Count Leo Tolstoy,' has just been published, lived in Russia for thirty years. He married a Russian and at one time was a professor at a Russian university. He died over a year ago. , Mr C. W. A. Scott, the. winner of the centenary- air race from England to Melbourne,, has written his autobiography. Messrs Hodder and Stoughton, London, have informed their representatives in Sydney by beam wireless message that they have purchased the British Empire rights of the book and are publishing it immediately. It will be fully illustrated arid uniform in style and size with ' My Mystery Ship! ': and ' Fear and Be Slain.' The published price will -be 7s 6d. The book will include the story of the great flight.

Marie, Queen of Rumania,’ in * The Story of My Life,’ tells of a sweetheart of her girlhood. One of the dearest friends of her mother in England was Lady Randolph Churchill. She frequently brought her little boy with her when she came to visit. The little boy’s name was Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill: He was red-haired, freckled, and impudent, with a fine disdain for authority. He and I had a sneaking liking for each other. At first we did not dare, to show it openly, but by degrees our red-haired guest threw away all pretence and brazenly admitted his preference .for me, declaring before witnesses that when he was grown up he would marry me.”

A recent luncheon at the Savoy Hotel, London, was attended by 450 distinguished guests. It was enlivened by characteristic speeches by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch and Dean Inge. The festivity celebrated the fortieth anniver-' sary of the issue of the ‘ Temple Shakespeare ’ and its supersession by the ‘ New Temple Shakespeare,’ which will be edited by Mr H. R. Ridley and illustrated by engravings by Mr Erie Gill. The luncheon menu was planned on Elizabethan lines, every dish being prepared from genuine recipes of 1594. The original ‘ Temple Shakespeare ‘ was a by-product of some meetings of a Shakespeare Society at Toynbee Hall, where the late J. M. Dent was much amused by the heterogeneous collection of volumes—annotated and unannotated, bowdlerised and unbowdlerised — used by members of the reading circle. It occurred to him that there was an opening for an edition which would present each play in a separate volume large enough to be read with comfort yet small enough to slip into one’s coat' pocket. Mo entrusted the editing lo that distinguished .scholar Sir Israel Gnllonc/,. The series immediately became popular. Since 1894 it has sold to the extent of 5,000,000 volumes.

Mr Winston S. Churchill’s prefaces to books and. all too rares articles upon them in the daily papers are known to sell books in large quantities (says a writer in . the ‘ Bookseller,’ London). For instance, Sir\ Harcourt Butler’s ‘ India Insistent* sold a complete edition of 2,000 copies within forty-eight hours following a Winston Churchill article in the ‘ Daily Mail.’ Two millionpeople read about it, and 2,000 of them bought it. •

The fate of most catalogues is the wastepaper basket, perhaps rightly, remarks a writer in an English paper. But there are some kinds which don’t deserve so swift an obliteration, and on the whole don’t get it. The lists of nurserymen, as is well known, provide a curiously alluring sort of reading, and are known to bo conducive to the highest flights of imagination in those who finger them, pencil in hand. The wine merchants likewise, with their subtle evocatory adjectives, can always find responsive readers. And with these surely must bo classed the lists of booksellers and publishers. The suggestion has been made that the services of Dr Leslie Hotson, the American scholar, should be retained for the special purpose, of carrying out research mto the life of Shakespeare. It was Dr Hotson who, nine years ago, cleared up by means of documents discovered in the Record Office the exact circumstances of Marlowe’s violent death. Later he gave to the world the lost letters of Shelley to Harriet, Shelley’s first wife. These were lawyer Is copies, used in a lawsuit which ended by depriving the poet of the custody of his child. Another discovery of Dr Hotson’s was a previously unknown document mentioning Shakespeare by name —in which “ William Wayte craves sureties of the peace against William Shakespeare [and others] for fear of death and so forth.” This was the first duo to records of a quarrel* of long standing. Dr Hotson found that Wayte was the stepson of one Gardiner, a justice of the peace, and a very unamiable person. He concluded that Shakespeare had had some public revenge of this Gardiner by lampooning him in his 1 Justice Shallow.’

The third'volume of Lord Riddell’* Memoirs, ‘ More v Pages from_ ■My Diary, 1908-1914, ’ has been published. ’ The volume deals with one of the stormiest periods in Britain’s political history—a period embracing Mr Lloyd George’s Budgets,' the Insurance Act controversy, the Irish' troubles, . th« Suffragette campaign, the Land campaign, the size of the Navy, and the. Parliament Act. It gives further pic* tures of famous men at close quarters —Mr Lloyd George, Mr Asquith, Mr Churchill, and Mr M'Kenna are all i prominent. The two earlier volumes justify the expectation that this book ' will bo. found to ho of singular importance. Lord .Riddell died on the sth of this month. • ... f _ Mr Bernard Shaw, speaking at th» William Morris centenary celebrations at Kelrascott, a village of Oxford, said, that in the early days of the church, when a new scale of morals in life had to be built up right from the foundations. the church, very soon found that' there were certain persons, both men and women, who appeared to move and get through the world by some sort of divine x-evelation rather than by the ordinary process or education. These people created the very' necessary cate- , gory of saints. Unfortunately th« human race was so incorVigible that the. moment they did get a genuine category eople began to tell lies about its mem. hors and demand miracles from then*. and generally manage to make the category ridiculous and thoroughly unplea* sant. “ I think,” Mr Shaw added, “ th« one’eategory in which you can put Morris is that category, and in a more sensible ago he may be called St. William of Kelmscott. I think the thing which makb s me classify him as a saint is that he did not get knowledge and wisdom through the ordinary channels. William; Morris was a master of arts at Oxford, and the only time I ever heard him regret money spent was after he had paid ■ - ' guineas for his M.A. degree. Oxford can do many wonderful things, but, it cannot turn out wonderful men like Morris, except in the' sense of turning them out of the door.” . ,