SOME CHILDREN’S BOOKS.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXVII, Issue 18285, 22 December 1919, Page 5

SOME CHILDREN’S BOOKS.

BY NEW ZEALAND WRITERS. In some introductory verses to .a very charming fairy tale, “ The Adventures of Toby and Tho Sphinx in Flowerland ” (Whitcombo and Tombs), Alister CluniOj a Now Zealand writer whoso name is new to mo, tells how his literary effort was the result of a request from “two little lads with a fairy-talo book ” that daddy—" there’s nobody tells such stories as you ’’—should write them a story. The author has certainly lived up to his domestic reputation in this delightful little story, in which flowers and insects, birds and boasts of various kinds, known or merely imaginary,_ all play a part in mystifying or delighting the two little adventurers. A shorter story in tho same book, “ Percy iu Moonland,” is very humorous, but open to the objection that the humour is just a trifle too recondite for purely juvenile umusement. (Price 2s 6d.) A st'Oond book from Mr Clunie’s clever pen is "The Enchanted Packman ” (Whitcombo and Tombs). Hero wo are introduced to a travelling pedlar, or packman, whose stout legs carry him and his pack of wares into many strange lands- Everywhere lie regales those who give him temnorary lodging with a rich feast of wonder-laden tales. How he shakes off the spell cast upon, him by the mysterious Wizard of the Mountains, whoso real name—a name ho lives up to in his character—is Blackheart, how in the long run Blockheart becomes Goodheart, giving up his evil magical practices and wedding a beauteous lady—Queen Golden Love —all this and much more is set forth in a story whose excellent moral is nono tho less admirable in that it is not unduly obtrusive. Both this book and its. companion volume are illustrated by Miss Alice Poison, whoso drawings, including several full-page colour plates, bear testimony to the artist’s gifts of imagination and clever draughtsmanship. There is really no need to import children’s books from England or America so long as such excellent little books as these can be produced by New Zealand writers, artists and printers. Alister Clunie is, I understand, the pseudonym of a Wellington writer. He is to be congratulated upon tho fine promise of his work. (Price 2s 6d.) From, Messrs Whitcombo and Tombs, Ltd., also comes this year quite a respectably large batch of well-printed, well-illustrated and tastefully-produced booklets, the literary contents of which, specially intended for juvenile entertainment at this season, aro of strictly New Zealand authorship. Aliss Isabel Maud Peacocke, an Auckland lady, whose two stories, “My Friend Phil” 1 and “Robin of the Round House,”! have been so popular, is responsible for three of these booklets. Oue, entitled “ Piccaninnies,” describes the quaint customs and pastimes of a band of little fairies who live in the bush. The \Farious stories take their titles from New ! Zealand trees and shrubs nnd flowers, j Mr Trevor Lloyd’s illustrations, in col- j (jur and black, aro whimsicallv humor- I pus. One picture in particular. Bhow- j ing a group of bush kewpies (there is,’ just a suggestion of tho goll.vwog about them), is quit© irresistibly funny. (Price Miss Peacocke also contributes two prettily got-up booklets entitled “The Bonny Books of Humorous Verse-” The verses aro largely of the nonsense type first made popular by Lends Carroll. Tho lament of a young lady of very vears over her eating up of a gingerbread doll, is an exceptionally clever bit of fun-making. In “ The Discontented Tadpole ” there is a humor-ously-pointed moral for young people who are unwisely anxious 'to be “ grown-ups ” before their due time. In both booklets Mr Trevor Lloyd’s illustrations display a rich vein of pleasantly humorous fancy. The publishers aro specially to be congratulated upon the excellence of tho colour printing in these booklets. It is quite up to the best English and American standards. t hat old and true friend of New Zealand children, Aliss Edith Howes, is re“Littlo Make Believe,” in which “Little Miss Make Believe,” in which a very charming fairy tale is told with all that depth of insight into child life and grace of diction wo always associate with tho writings of this deservedly popular New Zealand author. The illustrations, some in colour and others m black and white, by Aliss Alice Poison, are in keeping with the text, and are decidedly good. The booklets, which are moderately priced at eighteenpence each, should be in great 'demand as Ohristmastide presents for the “quite little ones.”

LIBEE’S NOTE BOOK. CONCERNING “COCKTAILS.” Who that has travelled in America does not know the custom of prefacing a good dinner with tiiat mysteriously composed liquid “fillip,” popularly called a “cocktail”? Now, of course, that America has “ gone dry,” the New Zealand visitor will no longer be asked to try a “dry Martini” or make acquaintance with a “ Manhattan,” of both of which beverages “Liber ” confesses to agreeable memories. Just recently certain literary pundits have been discussing the origin of tho word cocktail. A writer in the “ Bulletin ” of the Grosvenor Library of Buffalo (every big American library issues its own journal, half catalogue and half literary _ review) points out that the “ cocktail ” is of quite respectable antiquity in American literature. Washington Irving makes Dietrich Knickerbocker say, “ They lav claim to bo the first inventors of those recondite beverages, cocktail, stone fence and cherry cobbler.” and Nathaniel Hawthorne, in “ The Blithedale Romance,” writes of a certain place being “ famous for nothing but gin cocktails.” Tho Buffalo writer is also responsible for the statement that "cocktails” were mentioned by Thackeray, Captain Alarryatt and Thomas Hughes, of “Toni Brown” fame. CLEMENCEAU AS WRITER. The. name of Clemenceau is muoli more intimately associated in the public mind with politics than with literature. But “ Le Tigre,” ns the French have called him, because of tho ferocity with, which he conducted his old-time political campaigns, has ever been an industrious author, and not all Ms writ-

ings have been purely political. 2n the April number of “ The Edinburgh Review ” Mr Edmund Gosse has an interesting article on “ The Writings of M. Clemenceau.” Mr Gosse tells us that in 1866 (in Ms twenty-fifth year) M. Clemencoau went to the United States and became French master in a girls’ school at Stamford, a seaside ha-unt of retired New Yorkers in summer. A little later, Verlaine was under-master in a boys’ school at Bournemouth. How litt-lo wo guess, when we take our walks abroad, that jjenius, and foreign genius, too, may be lurking in tha educational profession I’’ M. Clemenceau married one of tho ’’ young American misses." Miss Mary Plummer. Tho nine books mentioned in the artiole ire of a varied nature, including a novel, a play, a travel book, some surveys of lifo which aro affected by his early scientific and medical training, and collections of newspaper articles from his noted " L’Aurore.” This journal "eot sail in tho stormy waters of tho Dreyfus affair,’’ and published Zola s condemnation of tho onemioa of DToyfus . . . in the agitated vears, when ho wielded a ro-nicr-liko pen. M. Clcmonceau’s great merit, sayn Mr Gosse, consisted in his fearless and disdainful audacity. "Ho fought in literature exactly as he has always fought in politics with tho air of ono who had no wish to conciliate his opponent, but always to browbeat him, to crush him by tho weight of his argument, nnd then run him through tho body with his irony. When we turn oyer tho pagea ot liis books, vr’nich puffer an inovitable loss from the fugitive nature of tho themes on which they mainly expatiate, wo ore astounded at the coaselss agility or tho lucid, rootless brain cl tho man.

STRAY LEAVES. A well-known local bookseller tells mo that ho anticipates a record Christmas trade, despite tho elections. “ Liber ” sincerely hopes this may provo to bo tho case. A tremendous amount of useless rubbish is no doubt bought and given away every Christmas gift season, but a good book a good edition of a really good author—is always welcome in an educated household, and no better Christmas) gift could be chosen. But discrimination. I Avarn you, is necessary. Don’t give unreadable books, simply becauso they aro prettily “got up.” Try and think of the literary tastes of the recipient, and give him, or her —it is, as it should properly be, with most young people, “her”—a book which cannot only bo read once, but one to which he (or she) can always return with renewed pleasure. For instance—but no, like Mr Jinglo on a certain memorable occasion, “1 will not presume to dictate.” Now that so many books are published in plain cloth with paper labels and sans that often awfully tawdry gilt so-called “decoration” favoured by so many English publishers, and, so I fear, by so many book-buyers, I do wish it could be made compulsory that a duplicate title label should be provided—pasted lightly by ono corner on tho end fly-leaf. For the paper title label, though undoubtedly a neat and comely addition to tho plain cloth binding which I personally favour, has a very awkward knack of “peeling” off, partially or wholly, or of getting so badly soiled as to demand replacement. In these days of quadrupled printing charges, to havo a new title label specially printed is more than the average book-buyer can afford, and lie is tliereforo reduced—l speak from sad experience—to using a typewritten title label of his own manufacture. I think I shall send' a marked copy of the paper containing my complaint—and suggestion—to the English “Publishers’ Circular,” or some other book trade organ. When the fifst label is being printed it would not cost more than an additional penny or so to provide, not merely one, but three' or four, duplicates, which could be roughly affixed like stamps, by ono edge, on tho end fly-loaf, and bo used when found necessary. Chattels have, I notice, added that excellent book of Arnold Bennett’s, “ Books and Persons,” to their tastefully produced St Martin’s Library series, in which they have published so many of tho R.L.S. books. Bennett’s book contains more sound, ripe and helpful criticism of modern books that really count than can he found in any similar collection of literary essays that

I know of. As to certain other books that don’t count, Bennett pokes some capital fun at them. The .essays originally appeared between tho years 1908 and 1911, in tho “ New Age,” a weekly paper conducted by Air W. Orage. Tho “New Age” is, I believe, strongly Socialistic in its political outlook, but these essays of Arnold Bennett’s are strongly individualistic. Last Whit Sunday there was celebrated the centenary of Bishop Heber’s famous hymn, “From Greenland's Icy Alountains.” It was first sung in Wrexham Church on Whitsunday, 1819, having been composed the previous day at the vicarage. England does not impose virtue without: she lights the flame within. England’s discipline is the discipline of the individual "soul; it is the discipline of personal character; it is life left to itself.—“ English Family,” by Harold Begbie. Mr Fisher Unwin has, I see, published new editions (4s 6d) of the two famous books on Irish life—“ Carloton’s Stories of Irish Life” and “The Collegians,” by Gerald Griffin. Carleton’s book Ims a preface by Darrell Figgis, nnd another clover young Irish writer, Padraie Oolum, does the same service for Griffin’s novel.