NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 5731, 28 October 1905, Page 14

NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS.

“In Lonely Dreaming,” by Geoffrey A. Dunlop. Gay and Bird. 22 Bedford Street, Strand, London.

This volume of verse by a young Irish poet—ho seems from his portrait to bo a mere lad —is of value for its promise rather than for its performance. Mr Dunlop do on not appear to have paid much attention to poetic form, hence his versification is prone to become monotonous, and Ins metre at times halts. There arc, however, many graceful lyrics in his book, marked by a pleasing flow of fancy and a good command of felicitous language. Occasionally a word creeps in that gives rise to the suspicion that the author has been guided more by sound than sense. Tims wo have in one piece an allusion to “tho vaulting sky,” and in another it is said of the blackbird that

‘•'His music fitful flows, As all around more quelling silent grows.” In the first instance, he palpably means “vaulted.” but wo are unable to guess what is meant by ‘'quelling” as an adverb. We quote as a fair sample ot Mr Dnnlop’.s poems the following: ON NEWCASTLE PARADE. COUNTY DOWN. The moon its mellow light reflects In’avenue of rippline sheen, That, dancing, leaping, onward comes And flecks the lapping, lilting wa%e„ As quivering they uprising roll To crest and break in sullen roar. And burst in misty fringe of froth— A cold, white, dashing, churning team That upward spreads in shivering Then, seething, hissing deep with si„lu, They tearing, grating, backward eueep, Fresh boiling turmoil to arouse, In thund’rous, everlasting boom; While Echo faint vet strikes the ear,— Loud, appalling—dull, far-falhn o , Never ceasing still decreasing. Deep depressing monotone. “Three Years With Thunderbolt.” By Ambrose Pratt. The Slates Publishing Company, Sydney, New South Wales. This is a book the publication of which in serial form in some loading Australian papers has given rise to considerable protest by various cleigymen and religious journals. Captain Thunderbolt,” otherwise Fred Ward, was a native of New South Vvales, and in the 'sixties followed lor several yeans the ancient if not reputable profession of highwayman. In Australian parlance he was a “bushranger,” and the book under notice professes to toll the true story of his deeds, lawful and unlawful, during a portion o Mils career on the roads. The narrator is William Monckton, now a prosperous and respected farmer at Howell, New South Wales. Monckton, who, when a boy, became a pupil and companion of Thunderbolt, and assisted him in many lawless acts. He eventually deserted his chief, and, under the advice of friends, gave himself up to the police. In consequence ot his youth he was let off with but a short term of imprisonment, and lias ever since lived an honest and upright life.

The chronology of tho story presents some curious inconsistencies which Mr Pratt might well have edited out of it. According to Monckton’s narrative, which is given in the flret person, he Was horn in 1853, and joined Thunderbolt when fifteen years of age. Therefore his criminal career must have begun in 1868. Mr Pratt’s preface relates that in 1809 Monckton was imprisoned as already mentioned, and in a supplementary note he adds that tho punishment was not inflicted until Monckton had been some considerable time living an honest life. Just exactly how the “three years” of the title page fit in with these statements is left for the curious reader to elucidate. The objections which have been taken to the publication of Monckfon’s story in serial form are based on an alleged tendency therein to the glorification of crime. A careful reading of the book gives some reason for agreement with this "contention. It is true that in many of tho reflections imputed to both actors in tho scenes of lawlessness described there are expressed sentiments to which no objection can be taken. But again and again there are passages which, while not positively justifying the acts of Thunderbolt have in a them a spirit of condonation and oven sympathy. The glamour of romance is cast over what were mere vulgar cases of robbery under arms and mean horsestealing. It may be, as asserted, that Thunderbolt was in early life more sinned against than sinner, bub tho attempt to depict him as a chivalrous modern Robin Hood lias no justification in facts. “I've never,” he is alleged to have declared to his companion, “robbed a poor man or a woman yet, and never shall.” “By Jove, I do like you, Fred,” is Monckton’s alleged reply. “You are a real noble man.” And yet tho “real noble man” sticks up coaches, rifles mailbags, and robs passengers. We are not told that he made any preliminary investigation into the financial position of his victims, or by what supernatural shrewdness he divined the wealth of the persons whose cash remittances he carried off. As a matter of fact his generosity simply consisted in not “taking the breeks from a Highlandman.” He stole money wherever he could get it, excepting from his cupidity only the possessions of such women as happened to come personally within his power. From the literary point of view Mr Pratt’s work is well enough done. At times he is chargeable with anachronisms in tho slang which ho ascribes to his characters. It was not, for example, until long after Thunderbolt’s time that Australians learned to say “My trollies!” for “I don’t carol” and “give away” for “betray.” In virtue of its flavour of romance—mostly fiction, by the way—the book is not uninteresting reading. For young lads wo cannot think that it is likely to prove a suitable book. The tendency of youth is ever to read tho fable and skip the moral,, so that no story which surrounds poor mean acts of theft with a wholly fictitious glamour of romance can fail to be more or less harmful. More particularly does such a book tend to prove pernicious when it is read by lads living in an environment practically identical with that of the scenes described and the episodes recounted. For this reason the tale of Will Monckton’s “three years’ ” criminality has especial dangers for Australia, for bush hoys will read it and hero and there one may be silly enough to attempt to emulate the foolish and wicked deeds of past times. There are racing scenes described which are a particular incentive to silliness. Stealing racehorses and running them “dark” at country meetings as described by Mr Monckton or his mouthpiece was never a glorious or profitable game. In the past as in the present theft was the first step on the road to a prison cell and a despicable career, and a realistic and true story should give duo emphasis to this fact.

There might have been appended to Monckton’s narrative something more than a mere allusion to tho death of his hero. The story of Thunderbolt’s last ride, witli the sleuth-hound Walker, inexorable as Fate, ever on his track, of the desperate stand at bay among the lagoons, and the final hand to hand encounter in tlie water and—tragic end of al) —of the wet and battered corpse borno in from the bush, would have been a fitting finale to a book which recounts no many incidents of reckless defiance of tho law. It would, too, have had the virtue of absolute, truth, and might have pointed a moral which even foolish youth could not have failed to understand.

“The ‘Herald’ Portfolio of Now Zealand Scenery.” We have received from Air J. W. Davidson, bookseller and stationer, of this city, a copy of this artistic production, of which ho holds the sole. Wellington rights. Tho portfolio is of gilt lettered cloth, and contains a dozen separate sheets, each of which is a beautiful half-tone engraving of a New Zealand subject. These are all truly typical and well chosen, and the technical finish of each is of tho highest class. Tho first picture, “A Bello of the Arawas,” is a portrait of a Maori girl. This is a work of real art, no detail requisite for the production of a faithful picture having been omitted. The portrait is surrounded with a bold border composed from photographs of Maori carvings, the finest lines of which come out clearly. The other pictures consist of country views and city panoramas, ranging from Northern Auckland to far south-western Otago. Seacoast, bush, mountain, river, and lake, aro all depicted, and it may be mentioned as a spceil merit that Wairpangn, with its eruption of inky mud, is conspicuous by its absence. Unlike many former pictorial souvenirs of Now Zealand, tho present publication is not misleading to persons outside the colony. So much has been made of the picturesque opportunities afforded by Maori subjects, and by hot lakes and geysers, that tho world at largo may stand excused if it for the most part regards Now Zealand as an unstable patch of territory where tattooed warriors and wahines of exceeding embonpoint constitute tho bulk of the population. The “ ‘Herald’ Portfolios” does nothing to perpetuate this misconception. Every one of its scenic pictures, from those representing tho snowy majesty of Mount Conk and Mitre Peak to the pretty view of Tarakura Bay in North Auckland, has boon chosen purely for artistic merit. “Hauling Logs in tho Bush” is the title of ono typical picture which alone is worth the six shillings charged for tho whole portfolio. The sheets of white enamelled paper, on which the pictures aro engraved aro uniformly twenty-six inches by twenty, and this bold size gives scope for the display of minute detail. As a true New Zealand souvenier for friends at a distance tho “ ‘Herald’ Portfolio” is unexcelled.