NEW BOOKS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 1514, 9 November 1912, Page 4 (Supplement)

NEW BOOKS.

«' wilholraina in London"—by Barry Pain John Ling, London)—is a thoroughly readable book, written in Mr. Pain's inimitable style and brightest manner.

" Reminiscences of My Early Ministry" by Rev. F. W. Macdoiiald {.larrold, London)—is an autobiographical " life" by the president of the W esleyiui Metho- ..- - -oi. ference of 1839-1000.

«' The Villa Mystery" —by Herbert Flowerden (Stanley Paul. London)—is a murder mystery, in which the wrong peison is accused, but the villain is discovered in the end.

" The Mystery Queen"— by Fergus Hume (Ward, Lock and Co.. Melbourne)—is a very m national semi - ciete; live - srm.aviation story, telling how a secret murder io- iety, ruled by a wicked woman, thrives -ttul flourishes lor a time in England until tits members an: all dynamited by its queen lo escape the police.

" The Relentless Current" by M. E. Charlcsworth (Putnam, New York; Robertson, Melbourne)—is a powerful indictment of capital punishment, though the plot depends upon the stubborn refusal to take disinterested advice of a very obstinate and -tempered governor. he •wrong man is accused of murder in New York State and convicted upon strong circumstantial evidence. His wife vainly .strives to save him and "witr, the assistance of a noble young lawyer afterwards establishes his innocence. Naturally, at the end. the devoted widow marries the noble lawyer.

- i From the Black Mountain to Waziriston"—by Colonel H. C. Wylly, C.B. — also from Macmiilan's, is a military textbook, furnishing " an account of the border countries and the more turbulent tribes controlled by the North-West Frontier Province," together with a history of their various encounters with the British arms. The book is the outcome of a border expedition in which the author's regiment, the Sherwood Foresters, took part, when it was found that only two British officers in the force knew anything of the frontier. All the tribes who have caused trouble to the British Government have a chapter assigned to them, together with a map of their country.

"Two Books on India."The latest addition to the long series of books on anthropology published by Messrs, Macmiilan is '"The Lushei Kuki Clans, by Lieu-tenant-colonel J. Shakespear, which is just to hand. The book has been prepared by order of the Governments of Eastern Bengal and Assam, and deals exhaustively with the history, characteristics, and customs of tho numerous tribes inhabiting that part of Eastern India which lies between Calcutta and Bunnah, especially tho district known as the Lushei Hills. In his official capacity Colonel Sliakespear has spent many years amongst the Lushei and kindred peoples, and his book has the air of authority. A great part of the work is purely technical, dealing with variations of dialect and such involved subjects, but there are many pages of interest to the general reader, especially those _ detailing tho . quaint marriage and religious ceremonies of the various tribes. A bright spot,', too, is the introduction of literal translations of a number of Lushei folk tales, many of which havo tho true smack of iEsop or " The Jungle Book;" The book contains many illustrations, including several in colour, which, however, are not a striking example of the art of reproduction.

" The Promised Land "—by Mary Antin (Heinemann, London) —is a Jewish story which rings true. As an autobiographical account of the persecution suffered by Jews in the Russia Pale Settlements and the manner in which on© delicate but intellectual little Jewess— Antin herself absorbs education and culture when she escapes from the Pall to the Promised Land of America, the story is unique and remarkable. Says Mary Antin of herself, and in her own emphatic, somewhat bumptious, altogether self-satisfied, but» strangely vivid style:— I am not yet thirty, counting in years, and 1 am writing my lite history. Under which of the abovy categories do I find my justification? I have not accomplished anything, I have not discovered anything, not even by accident, as Colun bus discovered America. My life has been "unusual, but by no means unique. And this is tho very core of the matter. It is because I understand my history-, in I its larger outlines, to be typical of many, that I consider it worth recording. My lifo is a concrete, illustration of a multitude of statistical facts. Although I have -written a genuine personal memoir, I believe that its chief interest lies in the fact that it is illustrative of scores of unwritten lives. I am only one of many -whose fate it has been to live a page of modern history. We are the strands of the cable that binds tho Old World to the | New. As the ships that brought us link the. shores of Europe and America, so our lives span the bitter sea of racial differences and misunderstandings. Before we came, I the New World knew not the Old; but j since we have begun to come, the Young World has taken the Old by the hand, and the two are learning to march side by side, seeking a common destiny. Perhaps I have taken needless trouble to furnish an excuse for my autobiography. My ago alone, my true age, would be reason enough for my writing. 1 began lifo in the Middle Ages, as I shall prove, and here am 1 still, your contemporary in tho twentieth century, thrilling with your latest thought. Had I no better excuse for writing, I still might he driven to it by my private needs. It is in one sense a matter of iny personal salvation. I was at a. most impressionable age when I was transplanted to the now soil. I was in that, period when even normal children, undisturbed in their customary environment, begin to explore their own hearts, and endeavor to account for themselves and their world. And ir.y zest for selfexploration seems not to have been distracted by the necessity of exploring a new outer universe. I embarked on a double voyage of discovery, and an exciting life it was! I took note of everything. I could no more keep my mind from tho shifting, changing landscapo than an infant can keep his eyes from the shining candl? moved across his field of vision. Thus everything impressed itself on my memory, and with double associations; for I was constantly referring my new world' to tho old for comparison, and tho old to tho new for elucidation. I became a student and philosopher by force of circumstances. Had 1 been brought to America a few years earlier, I might have written that in such arid such a year my father emigrated, just as I would state what he did for a living, as a matter of family history. Happening when it did, the emigration became of trie most vital importance to me personally. All the processes of uprooting, transportation, replanting, acclimatisation, and development took place in my own soul. I felt the pang, the fear, tho wonder, and the jov of it. I can never forget, for I bear the'scais. But I want to forgetsometimes I long to forget. I think 1 have thoroughly assimilated my past—l have done its bidding—l want now to bo of to-day. It is painful to be consciously of two worlds. Th'o WanderingJew in mo seeks forgetfulness. I am not afraid to live on and on, if only I do not •have to remember too much. A long past vividly remembered is liko a heavy garment. that clings to your limbs when you •would run. And I have thought of a charm that should release me from the ifolds of my clinging past. I take the iinfc from tho Ancient Marnier, who told this tale in order to bo nd of it. I, too, •will tell my tale, for once, and never Shark back any more. I will wide a bold Finis' at'tho'. end, and ahuti the book «*ith,ar>aJ}gl "•