LITERARY GOSSIP

New Zealand Mail, 15 January 1902, Page 11

LITERARY GOSSIP

A booklet of considerable local interest will shortly be published by Messrs H. I. Jones and Son, of Wanganui. It will be entitled “Wanganui’s Old Settlers,” and will consist of remi- : niscences of Mr Jas. Garland Woon, including sketches of some three-score of ! the “old identities” of Wanganui.

A decade ago, writes the London correspondent of the “New Zealand Mail,” Miss Bateman’s “The Glow Worm” (Heineinann) would probably have been the theme of much discussion; to-day it is merely one of many excellent novels which reviewers are recommending to readers. It is the well told story 'of an unselfish woman in childhood, girlhood and wifehood. As a child she is misunderstood by everyone except her father and Dick, but her father dies when she is seven years old, and Dick Ellis goes abroad. As a girl she makes mistakes of impulse and temperament for which she pays very dearly. She takes a divorcee to live with her in London as a part of her crusade against the injustice of the world, and for years has to half starve herself in order to keep up the menage on the level of Mrs Martineau’s requirements. Cf course, she wins no gratitude, for when she has made the worst mistake of all in her choice of Captain Brownlow as a husband, Mrs Martineau is the instrument of fate by which the wife's eyes aro'opened. “The Glow-worm” is a fine piece of fiction, for the author delineates character with precision and sympathy, and'her style is admirable.

Our indomitable old friend Hume Nisbet lias been “at it agin.” Of h’s latest shocker “A Losing Game” (F. V. White and Co.) one feels inclined to say, like the prosaic little girl who was told the tale of "Jack and the Beanstalk “Oh! you story!” Really Mr Nisbet lias no compassion. He simply tramples probability under foot and rampages round with incredible characters and episodes until lie gets you into a state in which you would hardly have courage to object if he depicted his principal villain in the act of cutting up the moon for old Stilton. “A Losing Game” is in some respects more improbablo than his previous efforts, but even when the wicked heroine poisons a whole crew of seventy men with arsenic v e refuse to put down the hook. But many things happen before that crime. The story is “an Australian tragedy,” at t-lio time when convicts worked on farms. Horace Macßride, who had arrived at Botany Bay in 1787, was, when the story opens, a wealthy settler with two daughters, the most beautiful the child of a native woman; the less attractive horn in lawful wedlock of a white woman. The manager had come with good recommendations, and in the absence of the beautiful daughter had fallen in love and been accepted by the homely one. The handsome girl returns and entrap’s her sister’s lover. When he tries to escape from her charms she tells him that she knows he came to New South Wales as a convict, and is now the leader of a hand of robbers. Finally she offers to sharo life and death with him. Intoxicated with her charms he yields. They fly with the robber band, she having first drugged her father, who is later found dead, and her lover carrying with him all the loose cash. She insists, however, on being legally. married. Their adventures are exciting and short-lived. The hand is caught, and the leader and his wife shipped to Norfolk Island as convicts for life. Now occui‘3 the wholesale murder of the crew. Thero are further adventures even after that, hut they aro insipid beside the heroine’s chef d’oeuvre.

If though a student of the theatro your purse won’t run to seeing all the new things out “on the hoards” you may enjoy several happy' evenings by your own fireside following up old theatrical friends with the aid of Mr St. John Hankins’s “Dramatic Sequels” —the witty outcome of an ingenious idea. Mr Hankin was distressed with

curiosity to know exactly what happened in the sixth act of a number of five-act plays. “Plays,” lie observes in a preface, “end too soon,” and

“never show . The whole of what I want to know.” ‘ What he wants to know” is the answer to such questions as—

Will Aubrey take to wife one day Another Mrs Tanqueray? His curiosity has been gratified. He has been able to discover not only the answer to this question, but the later experiences of George and Esther d’Alroy> Joseph Surface, Major Murgatroyd, and Mrs Wangel, to name only a few out of many. Everyone will be interested to know exactly the fate with which their old acquaintances have met. . Most of the endings are what we might have expected. Lady Teazle of course begins plaguing the irascible Sir Peter on the first possible oppoi'tunity after their reconciliation, Charles Surface runs through Sir Oliver’s money, sells Sir Oliver’s portrait, and does something else of a scandalous nature which I will leave Mr Hankin to specify. The Cerridges and I Mr Eccles prove an intolerable nuisance to the unfortunate George D’Alroy. Aubrey Ta.nqueray’s friends prophesied that it would not he many years, after the death of his wife in 1893, before a third woman made him unhappy. Sure enough in the spring of 1897 lie “tried again” with disastrous results to the few friends he asked to dinner. But Mr Hankin must be left to tell these dismal stories himself. He :'s evidently a close student of ancient- and modem playwriting, endowed with a keen sense of humour and a happy knack of parody.

To children of all ages and especially to those of the largest growth may be commended Paul du Cliaillu’s “The World of the Great Forest,” ia which the author attempts to do for the creatures of West Africa's wooded wilds what Kipling has done for the beasts of the Indian Jungle. Du Cliaillu lacks Kipling’s subtlety and intuition but lie writes with the more intimate knowledge that comes of long and intelligent observation. In animal talk, which depends upon imagination rather than upon knowledge Mr du Cliaillu is not successful, but he makes us feel that he understands the forest life as no writer on animals has done before him —its rapacious cruelty, its insecurity, its unremitting labour for a bare existence. With Mr du Cliaillu, no beast is labelled good or bad; we are made ‘-o feel sympathy in turn with the antelope and the leopard, the wild pig and the crocodile, who snaps him up as he crosses the ford and the terrible basliikouav ant, whose night attack, as he describes it, makes one shudder. Children will gain much knowledge with the enjoyment of this excellently illustrated volume as also their parents. The publisher is John Murray.

If you get a chance to borrow Albert Chevalier’s “Before I Forget” (Fisher Unwin) don’t miss it, for this “Autobiography of a Chevalier d’lndustrie” is an amusing production, which though it might with advantage have been considerably condensed in parts has but few pages which you will skip. Some of the best anecdotes of the creator of “Knocked.’em in the Old Kent Road” appertain to his American tour, and I can find space for a couple Naturally he received every attention at the hands of the American journalist. The morning after his arrival in New York, well illustrates the pushing methods of the Yankee renorter. “I was in my bath and heard'somebody apparently moving the furniture about in the sitting-room. I put my head out of the bath-room door, and, to my amazement, saw two gentlemen busily engaged in screwing together a photographic camera-stand. I°was too staggered to say anything, hut. they courteously put me at my ease by informing mo that they represented the “New York .” They were demited to call with the object of obtaining three photographs of me, depicting the emotions: Surprise, Joy and Disgust. I told them I should have some difficulty in supplying the middle one; hut the other two I had on hand. “You aw too good,” was the answer. “Don’t hurry—continue your ablutions. We’ll wait till you’re dry.” The photos were taken, and in duo course published. I had a frantic struggle about the second, but they declined to go until I placed my ‘joy’ on record.”

On another occasion Chevalier was laid up with influenza, and whilst in bed he heard the following dialogue between his manager West, and a pressman: "Press Rep.: Can I see Mr Chevalier? West: I’m sorry to say you cannot. Press Rep.: I should vurry much like to have just a few words with him. I represent the ‘New York West: I feel sure, if he could, Mr Chevalier would be only too pleased to see any representative of the Press, but unfortunately ho has been suddenly taken ill. Press Rep.: Yes, I know; I’m vurry sorry lie’s sick. West: He’s very ill. Press Rep.: Sorry lie’s so sick. Can’t I see him? I won’t keep him five

minutes. West: I regret to say ‘No,’ but he must obey the doctor’s orders. Press Rep.: Is he really so vurry sick?, West (somewhat irritably): He’s seriously ill, I tell you. Temperature somewhere about 105 deg. Press Rep. (after slight hesitation): Humph ! Well, can't - I see him to ask how he feels with his temperature at 105 degrees?”

Mr Archibald Clavering Gunter whose “Barnes of New York” met with so much popular favour, has written several rather absurd novels since. H(Tcau do better work than “The Fighting Troubadour” but he had done worse—more’s the pity—and those who delight in strong effects and care not how they are produced will probably find his latest work to their taste. It is sometimes amusing by reason of its absurdities and is certainly not to be catalogued as dull.

My alter ego tells me that “The Most Famous Loba,” by Nellie F. Blissett (Blackwood), is one of the best romances of the kind in print. The time of this romance is some way back in the Middle Ages. It is a series of chronicles of certain events which befel certain people who aro seen in a far-way perspective, so one reads of the hapless love of Peire Vidal without any keen regret. You are more closely touched by the love of the Loba for the Viscount of Beziers —a very noble knight married to a very wicked woman. The story of the seige of Carcassonne is vividly told, and the miracle which saved the Loba and Peire Vidal from the stake has all the simplicity of an ancient legend.