WRITERS AND READERS.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXI, Issue 6962, 30 October 1909, Page 9

WRITERS AND READERS.

(BY "LIBEK.") BOCCACCIO. One day upon, a topmast &helf I found u, precious prize indeed, Which lather used to read himself, lint did not want us boys to read; A brown old book of certain ago (As type and binding seemed to show) While on the spotted title page Appeared the name "Boccaccio." I'd never heard that name before, But in due season it became To him who fondly brooded o'er Those pages a belov-ed name! Adown. tho centuries I walked, Mid pastoral scenes and royal show; With seigneurs and their dames I talked— Tho crony of Boccaccio! Those courtly knights and sprightly maids, Who really seemed disposed tot shine In gallantries and escapades Anou became great friends of mine. Yet there was sentiment with fun, And oftentimes my tears would flow At some quaint taio of valour done As told by my Boccaccio.

In boyish dreams I saw again Bucolio belles ami dames of court, The princely youths and monkish men Arrayed for sacrifice or Again "l heard the nigh.tingalo t>ing as sho sniiis those years ago, la his embowered Italian vale, To my revered Boccaccio.

And still I love that brown old book I. found upon the topmost shelf — I love it so I let none look

Upon the treasure but myself! And yet I liave a strapping boy Who (I have every, cause to know) Would to its full extent enjoy Tho friendship of Boccaccio!

But boys are, oh! so difforent now. i'romVhat they were whan I was one! I fear my lx>y would not know how To take" that old raconteur's fun!

In your companionship, O friend, t "think it wise alone to go, riticking the gracious fruits that bend Wher'er you load, Boccaccio.

So rest you there upon tho shelf, Clad in your garb of faded brown; Perhaps, sometime, my boy himself Shall find you out and take you down. Then maybe feel tho jcy once more That tlirilled me, filled me years ago, When reverently I brooded o'er The glories of Boccaccio! EUGENE FIELD (The Lore Letters of a Bibliomaniac") A reference to the above verses will bo found under tho heading of "Correspondence." Bv a slip of the pen lo.st week I credited Mr W. B. Maxwell {Miss Braddon's clever son) with the. authorshin of "The Hill." Of course. I -UtMild have written "Hill Pise." "The Hill" is the title of one of Mr 11. A. vY.chell's clever novels. Mr .Maxwell's lalesl slory. "Seymour Charlton," which has just been

pubii.-.hed bv "Ihit.-hin-Tiu's. i. well reviewed in Hi.- London papers. I shall rot readily forge; I his writer's fine story, "Tiio Guarded fame." with its dramatic M-ene in which the discovery of his wife-.-, .sin is made bv a bed-ridden

The rival "Pole-finders," Cook and I'carv, are said to be busv writing books on their discoveries, real or alleged, and no doubt these works will liave a large sale, although these records of Polar expedition, do not greatlv appeal to me, and hit-in to be ciiai-acteriii'it by a dismal sameness of 'incident and treatment. I am much more interested in the Mu-odi.-.h explorer, whose "Tran-s-Himalava, Discoveries and Adventure;* in Tibet. I'JliC-IOUS," is being published I his mouth by Macmitlans in two volumes. J am glad to notice (hat a cheaper colonial edition of the work is to bo issued. As a rule these books of travel are issued (at .first; at prices which are prohibitive, to the average Now Zealand ly-oic buyer at least.

Book lovers who like "bargains" should keep an eye on the additions to CassclU' new Popular Library of wellprinted, cloth-bound voJii-.iies-Bngh,h price, eight],ence! Keeent issues include Dean Ramsay's inimitable book, "Rem-ini.-aences of Scottish Life and Character"; Thackeray's "Four Georges and the English Humourists"; Stevenson's ".Master of Ball.intra'.."; and George Tiorro-.v's fine "open air" story, "Lavengro." Fancy a complete, well printed, cloth-bound "Lavengro" for cightpenco!

Everybody who likes a good novel—and really good novels are rather scarce nowadays—will be giad to hear that Mill. G. 'Wells' new long story, "Ann Veronica," was to be published by Unwim's early this month. Mr Wells has got a big and faithful public, behind hint nowadays, and if "Ann Veronica" be as good as was "Tono Bungay"—-to niv mind far a.ml awav tho most original" and striking novel of the yeai—-it will bo welcome indeed. "Ann Veronica" is described by the publishers as a "modern —a very modern story.-" Mr Wells's ambition would seem to hovo been to write one of tho strongest loto stories of a-eoent years. The "heroine, Ann Veronica, is a very modern girl—modern in ethics, in point of view, in habits and in conduct generally. She is rather in advance of her time, but is not at all self-conscious about her modernity. The story touches many aspects of nresent-dnv London ; it is full of its life, and hits off brilliantly and with gre-it humour all the new movements —social, ethical, intellectual, nnd so forth. The work is. in fact, full of humour, and, though it is a social study of London life to-day in tho first instance, it abounds in situations among the strongest and most dramatic Mr Wells has conceived, and it ends with some very real and moving love-mak-ing.

Mr Vnchell's novel, "The Paladin, 'as Beheld by a Woman of Tempe.ram»n.t." which has been appearing in the "Cornhill Magazine," ha.s been published in volume form by Messrs Smith, Elder and Co. In this novel Mr Vaehell draws a picturo of a eplendid illusion, at length dispelled by sincerity.

According to a statement made in the Finsbury Revising Barrister's Courtwhere claims to vote are dealt with —a dwellinghouso in Windsor street, City Bond, an interminably long and dreary thoroughfare well-known to all old Londoners, ha.s been identified as the house where the original of Dickens's "M'icawber" is supposed to havo lived. I wonder, by tho wav. whether many of my readers —especially those w r ho are interested in liiekeiLsiana—know Henry Lawson's lines headed "W 7 ith Dickens." Lawson, it appeared, when on a visit to England, lodged at this -very same house that jMlicawbar is supposed to havo tenanted. Tho verses to which I allude may bo found in a little shilling volume, "When I was King, and Other Poems," published by Angus and Robertson in 1905.. "With Dickens" is a long poem of thirty-three verses. The poet passes the chief characters of the novel in review r and comments upon, their peculiarities, and so forth.

The first five verses may ho quoted as showing that Lawson's clever command of "local colour" is just tho same in a dingy London street as in the Australian bush :

In Windsor Terrace, Number Four, I've taken my abode— A little crescent from the street, A bight from City Road; And hard up, and in exile, I To many fancies yield; For it was here Mieawber lived And David Copperfield.

A bed, a table, and a chair, A bottle and a cup, The landlord's waiting even now For something to turn up. Tho landlady is spiritless— Thev both seem tired of life; They 'cannot fight tho battle like Mieawber and his wife.

But in the little open space That lies back from the street, The same old ancient, happy clerk Is sitting on a seat. Tho same sad characters go by, The ragged children play— And things have very little changed Since Dickens passed away.

Tho tavern's just across tho "wye," And frowsy women there Are gpssipping and drinking gin, And twisting up their liair. And grubby girls go past at timee And furtive gentry lurk— I don't think anyone has died Since Dickens did his work. There's Jingle, Tigg. and Chevy Slyme, And Weevle —whom you will; And kard-up virtue proudly slinks Into tho pawnshop still. Go east a bit from City J?oad, And all the rest are there — A friendly whistlo might produce A Chicken aaiywliere.

Another Dickens landmark in London, "The Saracen's Head" Inn, on Snow Hill, has, I notice, just come under tho hands of the saori legions builder, and has been demolished to make room for a big new "office building." It was from tho "Saracen's Head," you will remember, that Nicholas Nickleby started, 'in company with Sfrueeris, for that delectable home for "voung gentlemen." called "Dotheboys Hall.'' Tho George, in Southwark, where Pickwick, AVardle, and Perker unearthed Jingle and tha.t ancient but riightv damsel, Miss Kachel Wardle, and where Sam Weller first appears, is still standing, or at least was but a few years ago when "Liber" made a Dickens pilgrimage across the Thames and partook of what Dick Bwiveller would have called a "modest quencher" .in its somewhat fusty bar parlour. As for the Bull at Rochester, and the "Leather Bottle" at Cobham, both are existent and prosperous. The "Leather Bottle" where, it will bo remembered, the blighted Tracy Tupman took refugo after Jingle had oloped with the lair Kachel, is well worth a visit by New Zealaudors who may,find themselves in Loudon during the summer months, for what is called the "Dickons Koom" is practically a museum of prints, pictures, and various articles, all connected, more or less intimately, with the immortal memory of "Boz." • A few months ago I drew the attention of my readers to some very remark-, able verse entitled "Songs of a Sourdough." the work of Mr K. W. Service, a vcimg Englishman who is a bank clerk at White Pa-s, one of the gateways into the Yukon territory. The "Songs ' of a Sourdough'' had a tre-

mendous vogue in Canada, one poem, 'The Spell of the Yukon" (extracts from which were given in this journal), attractii," widespread attention in the United States and England. Mr Service lies now pubii.-.hed a second volume of verse bearing ll,e quaint title "Ballads of a Chcechako."

Clever Maurice Hewlett's last book is entitled '-The. Open Country." It is strontrlv Meredithian in style and is practically a oolleotion of letters in which the nominal hero, Senhou.se, who lives the life of a "geutleman gipsy," discourses uoon a variety of subjects. A second no'vel by Air llewlott is due shortly. It has been running in an American magazine. Here, again, there is too evident a nlaying of the "sedulous ape" to Meredith. The titlo is "Diamond Cut Paste," and a clover young American girl's outwitting of an Anglo-Indian adventuress is a feature of the story.

Apropos to Meredith, Constables announce tho publication, next month, of a Memorial Edition of the poet-novelist s •vorks, to consist of 26 /volumes, to bo sold in sets only. A feature will bo. a scries of some sixty illustrations. Ihe price is not stated. On© volume will comprise the novel, "Celt and Saxon," which Meredith left unfinished. Other unpublished matter will appear, including an incomplete romance and a comedy. There will also bo a comprehensive bibliography. The local booksellers tell me that there ha* been a distmetly incrcased demand for Meredith's novels since his death.

Xew Zcalanders who hail from the country of "The Downs," and know the charm of tho breezy hillsides and picturesque old Sussex villages, should make a note of a new hook, "The Spirit of the Downs," by Arthur Beckett, just published by Mechuens. "The Spectator" (September 11-th) gives a long and laudatory review of Mr Beckett's book. From some old Sussex drinking songs

gathered together by the author the reviewer quotes "A toast with a real lilt in it," as follows :

Our maid she would a-hunting go, She'd never a horse to ride; She mounted on her master's boar, And spurred him en the side. Chink ! chink 1 chink ! the bridle went, As she rode o'er the Downs, So here's to our maiden's health, Drink round, my boys, drink round!

Two other writers, Mr Ililairo Belloc, M.P., and clever Mr E. V. Lucas, have also given us books on the "Downs" country. Mr Lucas's volume, "nighways and Byways in Sussex," is full of quaint old folk lore, nnd Mr Belloo, too, is well worth reading on the same subject. It was the latter author who wrote: ,

I never get between the pines But I smell the Sussex air, Xor I never come on a belt of sand But my homo is there, And along the sky the line of the Downs So noble and so bare.

Rostand, whose "Cyrano de Bergorac" and "L'Aiglon" are the finest historical plays since Hugo's "Hernani," seems to be as conceited as Whistler, whose "Why drag in Velasquez?" has become historical. The French playwright, so the story goes, recently sold his house in Paris to a banker. Before leaving it he placed a bronze tablet to mark the threshold over which he had walked so many times. It took some courage surely to do a thing like that, and all a commen.tator can do is to say so.

Under the'heading of "Ex Parte Portraits," London "Spectator" is publishing a series of clever, if one-sided, version! satires upon political celebrities. The subject in the latest number to hand (September 11th) is the much-dis-cussed Winston Churchill. The verses are signed "C.L.G.," initials which will be familiar enough to those who read their "Punch" with any regularity. I quote a few verses to show the stylo of the whole :

By ambition never sleeping spurred to startle and astound, Yet your car for ever keeping diligently to the ground. By a premature conversion you neglected to discern Chances for your self assertion that may never more return.

Lending-an alert attention to the murmurs of the mob, Of dramatic intervention you have made a special job; Stimulating party bosses when elections go astray; Volunteering copious phrases ' on the frugal text of Grey.

Quite the Admirablo Crichton of an undistinguished age, Like a Ministerial Triton mid tho minnows you rampage, „Wir.h the frenzy ot a Zulu plunging madly in the fray, While the suave, impressive Lulu listens with serene dismay.

Now you hunt, a lively couple, with your little friend from Wales— Both of you adroit and 6upplc, on humanitarian trails; Dear to all the cheapest papers for the copy you supply Gratis by your agile capers cut to pleasethe public eye.

And so on, and so> on. But oven the Tory rhymester, clever as ho is, has finally to admit that the impetuous young Radical is a force, and a force, to bo feared. The last verso reads an follows :

Thus your coureo is splashed with colour, shot with Transatlantic vim, And St. Stephen's would bo duller if yoivr sanguine star grew dim; For although the Tories hate you, yet, whe-n you are in the van. Nobody should underrate you as a firstclass fighting man.

And, after all, if- is tho "first-class fighting man," -whatever may have been his political volte face, who counts m such a fray aa is now being waged in the Old Country. To sneer at Winston Churchill for

"With filial fervour writing memoirs of your stormy sire," won't lesson the hold that the young politician has on a. big public meeting of electors, the vast majority of whom have probably never heard of that highly respectable journal, the "Spectator."

An important addition to Shakespoarinna is to be published by Chatto and Windus. This is "The Shakespeare Allusion Book," in two volumes. The work consists of a collection of all the known references to Shakespeare and to his works before the. close of the seventeenth century. The allusions, which were originally collected by Miss Toulmin Smith, Miss Ingleby, and by that veteran but still enthusiastic and industrious Shakespearian scholar, Dr Furnivall, are now for the first time arranged in chronological order and sup-

plemented by notes by Mr J. J. Munro, with further material not previously included.

Not a few New Zealanders are admirers of "George Birmingham's" stories. They deal, as a rule, with Ireland and Irish life, which, is not. surprising, when one learns that "George Birmingham" is in real life the K-ev. James O'Hannay, rector of tho remote" parish of Westpcrt, on the sea coast of Connaught. IHs brother-in-law was Bishop of Killaloe. Mr Birmingham's Irish stories were at first mainly appreciated in Ireland, but he has "latterly broken new ground, and his "Suanish Gold" and

" Tho Search Party" have won him a large circle of English and colonial admirers. The Johnson Bi-Centenary is responsible for quito an outburst of "Johnsoniana." Pitmans are republishing (in sixpenny monthly parts) Mr Ingpen's wonderfully well-illustrated edition of Boswell's Life—the best "popular" > Bbswell ever issued, and the "Bookman" for September is a special Johnson Number, which is -well worth buying (sixpence), if only for three admirable special articles, in one of which, Dr Johnson's Ancestry, some curious and most interesting information is given as to Johnson's parents, to whom he was so passionately devoted. The" illustrations, too, are numerous, and pome are quite new. Then we are to have an account of the Doctor's friendship with Mrs Thrale, the wife of the wealthy brewer who was so long Johnson's friend. The author is that industrious writer, Mr A. M. Broad ley, who has written so much and

so well on Napoleon. A feature of the book will be the unpublished journal of the Welsh tour made by Dr Johnson and the Thrales in 1771. If this be half as interesting as "The Tour in the Hebrides" it ought to prove excellent reading. Mr Foulis, too, of Edinburgh, announces a re-edited and much imE roved edition of the Autobiography and etters of Mrs Piozzi. Mr 3 Thrale married an Italian named Piozzi after Thraje's death, much to Johnson's dissatisfaction.' The new edition will contain much new material, several portraits in colour, and other illustrations. Altogether, the "Great Lexiocographer," as Thackeray's old-fashioned schoolmistress. Miss Pinkerton, so dearly-loved to call him, 'is to figure rather prominently, in the literary output this autumn. Lor'don newspapers are very severe in their criticisms of Hall Caine's new novel. "The White Prophet." It is described by the "Standard" and "Pall Mall Gazette" as the worst, or very nearly the worst, book that the author has ever written. The "Spectator t " re-