A LITERARY CORNER

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXVI, Issue 8103, 4 May 1912, Page 2

A LITERARY CORNER

’‘Scented Isles and Coral Gardens.” By (J. L>. Maekellar. Loudon: .John Murray.

At out- star.;" 01 hi.-. hrccsily written shroniele of travel iu Torres Strait, Gorman Now Guinea, ami tin; JJutch Bast ladies, Mr Maekellar expresses some surprise 11;at. tin* beautiful islands of .lava ami Sumatra arm not more visited by Allot ial ia m.. Certainly all who read Mr Moekel la r’t-. interesting, often amusing, and fieqnen fI y mom: instructive account of the lJulcli East Indies, eannot fail to have a strong desire ro go and see toese ..(range and I'aseinaling tropical islands tor themselves. Tile Korji'ous vegetation, An* ill teieslin” native raves, the curious but (■ouiuiet'oially, highly successful methods of eolonrsa 1 ion ami administration of the thiteli, should all make (itroutr appeal to tin* tourist, whether in* hail from Europe or from any ol tin* A usf calasian Slates. Air Maekellar juul evidently liven a {treat traveller before, finding him-eli iu Cuemi.-laml, and M>im*\that weary of Ausrraiia. he conceived the idea'of journeying up to the (leniiao po.—essions in New Guinea, and theme on Pi Sonra'oaya and Batavia, jle had lived Jon;; in Germany, and eonsequen)ly when in* found himself on a German steamer, one of a line which, •under a heavy German subsidy, main■lains a regular serviee betweeir Sydney ami Hongkong—by way of New Guinea nml .lava—ln* was soon quite _at home with tin* Teuton officers and passengers.

OF tin- German settlements in Now Guinea he gives a detailed acemmt, from which it- m to he gathered that tho Teuton is making a most .strenuous and systematic attempt to build up a oommcreinl supremacy Horn Papua right along to Singapore. All through tho book one liuds the anther giving vent to what, is (dearly his firm conviction that unless .John Bull ‘‘wakes up,” it is the German and nut trio British merchant Hug whieh in to reflect the dominant commercial interest <>t* Europe in these seas. Everywhere lie finds evidence of tho never-dying, almost _ feverishly restless spirit of “expansion‘s with which the present day German is imbued ; everywhere lie liuds tho German merchants and their travellers “hustling” for new markets and new “business." always keenly studying what the native races of these Pastern lauds require ami laying tliemselves out to meet —even to anticipate the demand. At Maecu.-sar, the capital of Celebes, a cheeky native hails him with “All Gorman man now; Pnglislunan no good now." Arrived at I’andjong Prink, the iiort of Kata via, lie sees a ship with the British Hug :

The first I have peon since I left Australia. Think of it—the first British Hag! “All German man flow, Pnglislunan 'no good now’’ —is it a wonder that, impudent natives should snv and think that!' These rich is-

lands full of trade—this splendid route—all this lying between our possessions of Singapore and Australia—and never a ship carrying our Hag amidst it all!

Very fn-einating are the word pictures .rliieli the author gives of tho gorgeous seeuerv in Sumatra and Java, but I confess I found those chapter* the most Intere.-t ing in whieh lie deals with the ever varying racial traits and problems.

Jiivu i- a veritable wonderland ot strange beauties. Much of it is still ■uncultivated, notwithstanding the long Dutch occupation. Mr Alackellar says: \ great uart of this lovely island (the adjective refers to its almost continuous volcanic activity) is .covered with forest, but much of it is

reully a garden. There are splendid trees, and the teak is famous. Rice, etdlee. cinchona, all sorts of fruit — in fact, everything grows. Two hundred anti forty species of birds aro known, of which forty are peculiar to Java : there aro wild peacock, jungle fowl, pigeon, quail; and tigers, leopards, rhinoceroses, wild dogs, and wild pjgs; monkeys, wild oxen and deer add to its attractions, to say

nothing of that strange fruit, the durian, which does not allow itself to bo overlooked.

■'A wonderland" indeed, that long stretch of mountainous, volcanic islands reaching from the Asiatic mainland to Timor —Sumatra, Java, Bali, Sumbawa, TToros. and Timor—to say nothing of tho hundreds of lesser isles and islets. No wonder, says the author, that "tho Germans, the Japanese, and others look upon them ‘ with the lustful. greedy eye." Already there is a peaceable bnt steady conquest of Java by the Chinese. Mr Alackellar says: The Javanese are noted ns being very truthful and straightforward; are very docile, industrious, and 'sober, and are also attractive in looks. They are excellent workmen,, good weavers and agriculturists, and understand irrigation very well. There are over 350,000 Chinese and JOO.OOO Arabs in Java alone: they faith intermarry with the Javanese. There are various languages in tho island. In 1900 there were 7G.000 Europeans. To-day, there arc 800 Genua ns. 271 Belgians, and 180 British. The people, though professedly .Mohammedan, are In reality mostly pagans. This rich, beautiful, populous land is a veritable Garden of Eden. despite tho volcanoes, and tho people are both contented under Hutch rule, which suits them. Long may they continue under it. despite some present clouds iti the sky.

Tin' In if" phrase is probably suggested by what Mr Atarkellar found to bo a prevailing impression unionist the Dutch residents in Java and Sumatra. namely. Mini were it not. for Great. Britain the Netherlands would soon be compelled to see (lie whole of the Dutch East Indie- no--; into the nossessiou of Germany. The greater portion of the book is devoted to the Dutch East Indies, but the author also gives some brightly, if at times rather carelessly written descriptions of Singapore. Hongkong, and other Chinese parts, with a final brief peen at Japan before he sails from Yokohama for Vancouver on his way home. Mr Mackellar makes no pretention to literary stvle; but ho is always frank and outspoken, and there is a breezy vividness about his studies of rnen and which is decidedly attractive. Any New Zealander who may have thought of making a trin to Java, which is O'llv a little over throe weeks' jo timer from Y'ellingfon. could not do I,o*l-,., • then secure a copy of Mr ATno kellnr’s book, from which he could gain manv useful wrinkles as to the best rout™* ndont n”d the nlace.s best worth visaing Th-' illustrations are numerous. well chosen, and most interesting. (Trice las act.) A SHEEP TvLNG OX TOUR. ‘The Impressions of a Now Zealand Pastornlist on Tour ” By A. AAT. Rutherford. (Whitcombo and Tombs. Eld.) During the years 1911) and 1911 Mr A. AV. Rutherford. formerly member of Parliament for a Canterbury electorate, travelh-d in (treat .Britain and on the European Continent, and contributed n

BOOKS OF THE DAT (BY "LIBER.”) TWO BOOKS OF Tit A V'EL

series of arliides descriptive of his references to tin* columns of the Christchurch “Press.” 'l’ho articles, slightly revised, have now bemi collected and republislied in volume form. The result is a hook which is well worth reading, being .specially valuable in that it gives the outlook on Old World places and people.-, of a gentleman, of a New Zealander, who is a fairly typical member of tin* class to which he belongs, the well-to-do colonial pasturaiist, whose life has been too weil filled with local interests to permit him to travel far —imb frequently —afield. This same outlook is fresh and vivid, but it is apt to bo limited by a long acquaintance with a somewhat narrow environment; especially an intellectual environment. Consequently, this book of -Mr Rutherford's is good—in parts —but it is also, in other parts, most wofully bad.

When the ‘‘mutton monarch” of the Amuri discusses British and Continental agricultural methods, what he says, being the opinion of an expert, is generally very well worth attention. When, however, French cookery and Italian art are discussed, the oiiiiuons thereon of a sheep king are worth no more than those of any poor tourist . with, say, .£3h to liis name, who has ever spent a month in the Quartier Batin or on the banks of the nriio. The squatter lord of the Amuri found nothing decent to eat in Franco! —in France, the traditional home of good cookery, and as for the Gallic vintages he anathematises them with almost vitriolic wrath. And yet “Li her” has gloriously happy memories qf both gustatory and d riokatory (adjective copyrighted! joys in France, the sa/no ho would not swap for a whole century'of tho “chop, steak, sausage, sir,” washed down with villainous “stood” tea or colonial swipes, usually to he found at a New Zealand hostelry. Really, 1 am afx-aid Mr Rutherford stopped at quite tho worst hotels at .Marseilles and Paris.

But let that puss, and turn to our pastorulist's quite virtuous indignation over Florentine art, which he considered quite ton dreadfully impioper. .Whore did ho go in Florence t What did ho ask tho guides to show .him? In Naples a few years ago I mot a spectacled Brit Lsh spinster, who was “wrestling” with tho mysteriosof a mean,-and whoappenlod to “ Liber” (who has some French If but little Italian beyond tho all important uanto ? and Tropno !) for assistance. Dropping into conversation with tho good lady, she confided to me the fact that she was charmed with Naples, but that the ohjets d'art from Pompeii which arc shown in the ‘‘special room” at tho Loyal Museum, were—“well, they wore, rny dear Mr Liber, quite too dreadfully dreadful!” It was only when enjoying a genuine Umberto (at seven for a shilling) and a vermouth di Torino, which cost, mine host about a seventh of a farthing, but for which his moustached minion of a waiter had the impudence to charge mo half a lira, that 1 remembered tho fact that ladies, especially English ladies, are rarely shown tho "special room,” but occasionally, -by virtue of a special and substantial “tip,” they manage to seduce the custodians into temporary forgetfulness of the “statoofs.” Now, I wonder —yes, 1 do wonder—what it cost Mr Buthorford to see all those dreadful pictures and statues which he saw at Florence ! My guide never asked mo to see such things!

Joking apart, Air Rutherford’s book is interesting and amusing enough in its way. When he is discussing the frozen meat question, the Dublin Horse Show, and similar subjects, upon wliich his long experience of colonial farming enables him to speak- with a certain authority. Mr Rutherford is well worth reading. The trouble is that ho will not confine himself to such subjects, 'but persists, wherever he goes, in delivering himself of tho usual platitudes of the globe-trotter with the air of a person who has made some notable discovery. Some years ago, long ago enough for him to have forgotten the wit of the book and for his remembrance of its contents to be confined to some hazy' idea that it was professedly "funny, - ’ Mr Rutherford must have read Mark Twain’s ‘'lnnocents Abroad,’’ and has conceived it to bo his bouuden duty to bo ‘‘funny’' at all hazards. But the Alarfc Twain Burgundy, a full-bodied wine of wit, when diluted into the ' Rutherfordian vin ordinaire—so very ordinaire—is a terribly thin beverage. Ho is for ever cracking jokes. Some few are distinctly good, others might pass muster with a friendly family audience, but for the most part tho humour is painfully attenuated.

When our pastornlist tourist is not striving to be funny, ho often gives us some vividly picturesque snapshots of men and manners. Apart* from his curious ideas on Italian art, his account of tho Italian cities is decidedly readable, being breezy and informative as to things to bo seen and to be avoided, and, albeit the general point of view is' that of the average British Philistine, its exposition is not without interest, and, indeed, value, for tho intending traveller.

Being, or, perhaps, I should say, having been a politician, albeit of the “roads and bridges’’ type. Air Rutherford hits deemed it incumbent upon him to discourse upon various British political questions. His remarks upon such subjects exhibit an amusing naivete of outlook and an equally curious ignorance of recent developments in British and Imperial politics. In London he appears to have met Sir William HnllJoues. upon whose oratory he is pleased to pass a somewhat patronising judgment. Ho also met our ex-High Commissioned tho lion. W. P. Reeve's, concerning whoso alleged connection with the once notorious “E‘ A. Smith" agency, and as to his share in tho selection of emigrants, Mr Rutherford makes certain remarks which—despite his sentence. "I would not for the world do Mr Reeves an injustice”—had, I think, in fairness to Air Reeves, been better left unsaid. But the natural animus of the average Canterbury squatter against Air Reeves was not to be denied. Tims, on pag?3. 88-89 1 read:

TWTTou. Air Reeves, our late High Commissioner, also spoke. Mr Reeves is clover if you will, but I was astonished to hear from his lips that he had worked off the best of his jokes on preceding audiences. Mr Reeves has a sew good stories of his own invention, probably tho germs of them were discovered by him in his classical reading, but the average leader isn’t likely to discover tueir birthplace. Mr Reeves is a char, fluent speaker, but there was a bitter. livery tone about his speech, more suggested by tho tone than tho actual words. Considering that Air Rutherford, during his Parliamentary career, was, it is notorious, allotted “the cake’’ as the “'champion chestnut resurrector’’ of the House, it is curious to find him waxing sarcastic over Air Reeves’s alleged laches in this direction. This allusion to Mr Reeves is by no means the only example of bad taste to be found in the book. For instance, there is n ( :ieer at. “ Ward’s l/omi Hand,” and other somewhat ilinatured references to the « x-l’ii ne Aimister. It had boon better. I think, that

such remarks had been expunged when the letters were reprinted. Although I have drawn attention to a few oi lh< faults to be found in Mr Rutherford's Gaik, it is only fair to the author to say that, on the whole, it is a lively and most readable pnxluction, lull ol useful hints to intending travellers. The illustrations, which are numerous, include views of well-known tourist resorts, and scenes wherein the author is depicted standing against some famous monument, or having an al fresco meal. (Price 3s 6d.) A LITERARY LETTER (BY “LIBER.”)

The Beguiling Book-Agent.

In nine cases-out of ten the books, or more often the series of books, widen ai*o sold bv book agents, mostly on the tempting instalment plan, are comparatively worthless. In how many New Zealand homes are there not to be found tong sets of gaudiiy-liound volumes which are seldom even looked at. anil are simply so much useless furniture. It is tlio payment by instalment that is the bait, and yet, with the ten shillings or even live shillings a month paid to the book agent or his principals, could he bought, in the course of a few mouths, 'quite a respectable little collection of, say, the "Everyman” volumes, and the purchaser would then have on his shelves tho works of authors really worth the reading, and not mere rubbish. “Beware of the Beguiling Book Agent,” is the burden of a song that cannot be too .often chanted, in the ears ol both private buyers of boots and library othciais. The February number of “Public Libraries” does well to print Miss Ange V. Wilner’.J cautions on the subject, as contained in a paper recently read before the Illinois Library Association. Subscription books, as has been repeatedly pointed out, should, as a class, be viewed with suspicion; and when the subscription book is offered by an agent the wise iier.soii becomes doubly suspicions. “It is a fact,” .says Miss Wilner, “that the most expensive way of buying subscription books is to buy

THE LATE JUSTIN MCCARTHY, Journalist, Novelist,. Historian, and ox-M.P., whose death was reported on Tuesday last.

of the book agent." The cajoleries of tho modern salesman, trained in accordance with the latest psychological principles, are indeed hard to withstand; but, ns Miss Wilner further remarks, a later opportunity to buy at a reduced price the temptingly offered subscription book of real worth, will, in most cases, not bo very long in presenting itself. Let ns, then, harden ourselves to tho blandishments of the sleek and plausible travelling salesman and jmtronise ns a rule only our tried and trusty book dealer. An Authorised Life of “Labby ’’ Messrs Constable have been entrusted with the publication of the authorised "Life of the late Right Hon. Henry Labouchere, A1.P.,” which will be written by his nephew. Air Algar Labouchere Thorold, who, for the last ten years, lias been a close neighbour of, and in intimate personal .relation with him. Air Labouchere frequently communicated to Mr Thorold many details of his early life, and discussed with him his numerous activities with great freedom. Mr Thorold has, furthermore, sole access to a voluminous correspondence, including letters from King Jidward V'U., when Prince of Wales, Air Gladstone, Lord Morley, Sir William Harcourt, Air Parnell, Lord Randolph Churchill, and Sit Henry Campbell Bannerman, which shed a new and unexpected light upon "Lobby V' political and personal relations with the events .and people of Iris time, in-par-ticular, his connection with the Radical party over a period of a considerable number of years. His life as a war correspondent during the Siege of Paris, and his action in connection with the Parnell Commission, culminating in the dramatic confession of Piggott, will be treated in full detail, and much new and interesting information concerning the foundation and early days of "Truth," of which “Labby" was the founder and first editor, will be given.

Stevenson’s Californian Experiences. Mrs Katharine D. Osbourne (wife of Lloyd Osbourne, Stevenson’s stepson, and collaborator in "The Wrecker" and "The Ebb Tide") has written a book entitled "Robert Louis Stevenson in California.” According to the American papers, Mrs Osbourne does not give us very much more information about Stevenson’s life at Alouterey and in San Erancisco than is to be got from the novelist's delightful letters to Sidney Colvin, Hemey, Gosso, and others of his English friends. Airs Osbourne, however, does tell us that Stevenson hud been twice seriously in love, and had been rejected by tintwo ladies to whose hands he had successively aspired, before he mot the lady whom he married. This rumour, which, we are informed, is confirmed by the gossip of "certain solid citizens of Eumburgh who remember Stevenson in his early twenties," has not before been formally printed. A writer in the American ‘'Bookman" says "it helps us to understand the overwhelming seriousness with which Stevenson embarked upon tho great adventure that culminated in his marriage, to know that he had served a hard apprenticeship in living and was no longer following a boyish dream," Mrs Osbourne confirms what has already been said by many of Stevenson’s friend's as to the novelist’s eccentricities in drees. "In Monterey he was one chilly morning in need of a little heavier clothing than ho had on. A coat was deemed too much; a jersey would have answered the purpose. Lacking it. he pulled an extra undershirt on over the outside. Mrs Carson (the landlady o. the house on Bush street, where Steven son lodged in ’Frisco) describes his dress the day he came to her house seeking lodgings, thus: He wore a little brown rough ulster buttoned- up tight under his x chin, and Scotch brogues, the walking kind, laced up high, and liis pants stuck in the top. and a dicer hat." Poor fellow, one has only to read those pitiful letters which lie wrote to Sidney Colvin from that same Bush street bouse to know that he had no money to spare to spend upon sartorial splendour. I wonder, by the way, what is a "dicer hat." That is a species of headgear with which “Liber” is unfamiliar.

The Farnley Turners. The “Studio" imbli.-ht-in have arranged, I notice, to jjublic~)i a series of reproductions of some of the finest pictures by Turner which, are hung ar Farnley Hull, Yorkshire, the home of the Fawkes family. -Mi' Walter Fawkes formed the Farnley Hall Collection between IWIB and lfc»J. the years of Turner’s freshest and happiest inspiration. All the drawings were bought direct, from tiie artist or weie especially, commissioned by Mr make these drawings of Turner more widely known and enjoyed, the present owner of Farnley Hall, Mr F. H. Fawkes, has very generously placed the entire collection at the disposal of the editor of “The Studio,” for the purpose of reproducing a number oi the finest water-colours in facsimile direct from the originals. The majority have never before been reproduced in any form. Mr Alexander .1. Finbeig. the well-known authority on Turner’s life and work, will be ' responsible for the letterpress, which ill include the first full aim authoritative account of Turner’s relations with Farnley Hall, and a detailed description and history of the collection. The prints will be about 10 by 71 inches, each being mounted, the mounts measuring 16 x If. The series, which includes the splendid paintings of Venice, Switzerland. and Yorkshire, which represent Turner’s genius at its very Highest standard, will be issued, in six parts at half-a-crown net each. This is a pnPlication ci which lovers of the fine arts would do well to take note.

Zangwill on War. ZangiH's new play, “The War God,” recently produced in London, must be a curious achievement. It may lack the strictly dramatic element which is essential to success, but with Bismarck (The Chancellor of Gothia) and Count Tolstoy (Frithiof) as principal characters, the play can hardly be said to lack originality. Bismarck, of course, personifies the War spirit. T.dstoy that of Peace. One of Frithiof.- -ntencee runs, “The God of War is ; v a man of business.' Zangwill i,-. a wholehearted advocate of international arbitration, and has been specially disgusted with the spectacle of Italy, which had to fight so hard for her freedom, rushing headlong into her present African adventure. In a recent interview he is reported as having said : “Certain nations were of much finer quality before they became aggressive. Ita’y, for instance, gained its soul when it won its independence and realised Italian unity. What is it doing with its dearly bought freedom? It has embarked upon a commonplace career of ■’imperialism and Jts scutcheon is stained with the horrible atrocities at Tripoli.'

The Morier Memoirs. “Morier, the man who distrusted ,and hated Biehiarck," might well be the title of the recently published “Memoirs nr.cl Letters of Sir Itobert Morier" (Arnold), La haute politique dominates the book, for Morier, so long a British diplomatist at Vienna and Berlin, was in “the movement" and behind the scenes of many great European, events tor a good twenty years and more. Bismamk was notoriously a colossal liar, and never ha. 4 the fact, been made more clear, or supported by stronger contemporary and reliable evidence than in Morier's book. Personally, as a bookman pure and simple, who is ever far more interested in literary matters and in literary gossip than in matters political, I have found some ox the best bits in the hook to he those in whicli reference is made to Tennyson, Eroude, Jowett, Browning, and other literary lions tt the grand old mid-Victorian period. Oao of the Tennyson, stories, for instance, describes a visit by Morier to Tennyson’s home at Twickenham, when Hallam Tennyson (afterwards to become the second Governor-General of Australia) was the central figure in a christening ceremony. Of the dinner which followed llou.i writes :

Tt was a right pleasant feast. There were poets there as thick as blackberries—Brownings, and Taylors, and Tennysons, and great historians, venerable Hallnms, and radiant visions of fair women. And then the Great Man himself, diffusing genial' warmth all about him, all his usual shyness and reserve laid aside, and his whole being given up to honour-, ing his guests and being honoured ny them. After the mob of guests had separated, four choice spirits gathered themselves into an upper chamber, the Great Man himself. Browning (the male), Fid grave, and myself, and there till 1 a.m. was a brewing of whisky toddies and Irons mots and epigrammatic sentences, and a sitting in' judgment on tho great works of past men's hands. Kings and peoples weighed in the balance, and somehow all found wanting. . . . This fellow Tennyson is a right noble creature, almost the noblest creature (Jowett always excepted, and he beats even him in physique) I ever saw. He is one of chase beings from whom one gets an insight into that leal HeroWorld outside or inside the crust of this sham Valet-World.” ‘‘This sham Valet-World” is an expression which curiously and significantly illustrates the widespread influence which Carlyle was then exerting upon English society—and English speech. The Broughton Memoirs. Mention of the Morier Memoirs reminds me that yet another instalment of the apparently interminable Broughton or Hob house Memoirs has recently appeared. “Boiled down,” the four volumes would make a nice fat little tome of good stories about early Victorian politics and society, but the editor has been sadly remiss in his use—or neglect—of the proverbial blue-pencil and the consequence that the plums seem few and far between in the general desert of platitudinous narrative. In the last published volume theie are some piquant references to Dizzy, and to Dizzy's predecessor in the fine art of political humbug, Lord Brougham. On the latter, whom Monier regarded more as a phenomenon than as a rational being, the; bare many notes. Brougham fell out with the Duke of Wellington and said, “The Abr bey yearns for him.” “I told this to Russell (observes Hobhouse), who added, ‘And Bedlam for him.'" When he heard the story of the ex-Chancellor’s death he nt once concluded that Brougham had contrived a hoax. He records Brougham’s view that Disraeli was “the greatest blackguard in England,'' ana a still more remarkable opinion from the same source, that “Providence, who sent the potato disease, meant that many should be starved, and all attempts to prevent the inevitable result were foolish and futile.” Hb describes Disraeli's maiden speech as “such an exhibition of insolence and folly as I never heard in my life before,” but he made friends with the young Tory, had him to stay at Erie Stoke, and ended by considering him “very agreeable and very much like a gentleman.” Disraeli once observed to him that the summit of Heaven's bliss was to be possessed of .£3OO a year, and to live a retired life among books! Of Lord Grey he writes: “He was an extraordinary instance of what may be done by a talent for public sneaking, independent of any other intellectual quality of a high order.” He gives a charming picture of , Melbourne—his kindliness, his sagacity, his bluff crispness of speech.

The Napoleon Cult, The enormous growth of the Napoleon cult is referred to by a writer in the March number of "Chambers's Journal." <Th© modern phase of it began in the United. States in 1894, when "magazines and newspapers teemed with matter anent the man so long vilified by us ns the Corsican Ogre.” It soon spread to England, and new books on Napoleon are continually offered to an ever-appre-ciative public, while it has become an axiom with publishers that such works rarely have to be “remaindered.” The writer .-uggests as a reason for this that

the caieer of the unknown lad irom an obscure inland, who a-cended throne of a great country and become Emjieior of the West, is so romantic that it must necessarily appeal to the imagination. “No man ever accomplished so much in modern times; hence the interest which the magic name of Napoleon is likely to arouse for many generations to come. The memory of Napoleon, too, is sumciently mellow in these days to support a large crop of the usual legends that grow round interesting historical characters. A Tribute to Lucian. Mr Frederic Harrison is writing tor the “English Review" an interesting series oi articles—" Among my Books. He reassures his readers that, he can “enjoy a dialogue of Plato in my Jowctt,’’ and pays the following tribute to one of the most popular editions in the Oxford Library of .Translations: “And now we have the whole of Lucian, admirably translated by H. W. and i. G. Fowler, i vols., 12mo, Oxford. W This delightful book is as curiously, modern in essential thought as it is hisroncally redolent of the Roman world. The translators, have caught the very spirit of Lucian’s banter, and the English is as racy as Thackeray’s ‘Book of Snobs. Anyone who enjoys real fun should try one of flu* ‘Dialogues of the Dead,’ or one of the ‘Dialogues of the H (one has to be careful, nowadays), or ■(.’liaron,’ or the ’Death of Peregrin us. A friend of mine, liable to insomnia, keeps by the bedside A copy of Fowler’s ’Lucian,’ ami takes it tip to while away a wakeful hour. Anyone cun turn to any part of the four volumes to amuse a spare half-hour. He would find it quite as lively as one of the wonderful sixpenny novels which form _tho staple literature of our motor age.” '

The Woman who wrote ‘‘Little Women."

Here is a portrait of Louisa M. Alcott, the author of that famous and. in its way, most delightful story. “Little Women.” Its original title was, it appears, "The Pathetic Family.” Published- in 186.5, it at once achieved widespread popularity and has been translated into dozens/ of languages. I believe there is even a Japanese edition. A stage version of the story' is now to be given, the book having been dramatised by a Miss

THE LATE LOUISA ALCOTT The woman who wrote "Little Women.”

Jessie Boost re He (Mrs Alexander Sturt), who has had to wait eight years before obtaining the necessary permission, Mies -\1 cott's two nephews, the famous twins, ‘‘Daisy" and "Demi” (John and Demijohn), having up to now objected. Miss Alcott herself was, it is stated, fond of the theatre, and'actually wrote a short comedy which was produced at a Boston theatre. Much 'of "Little Women” was taken from actual life. Miss Alcott used to say that Laurie was not an American boy, “though every lad 1 ever knew claims the character. He was a Polish boy, Ladislns Wbsinewski, met abroad in 1865. Mr Laurence is my godfather."

A pen portrait of‘ Froude (from G. W. E. Russell's new series of “Recollections) : “With his thin lips, his cold smile, and his remorseless, deliberate way of speaking, he always seemed to be secretly gloating over the hideous scene in the hall of Eotheiingay, or the last agonies of a disembowelled Papist.” “The V'agrant” is the title of an English translation of a novel by Colette Willy, who, it is now well known, was responsible for the best parts of the famous ‘■Claudiue” series. But I can scarcely conceive of an adequate translation of Madame Willy’s original work, so idiomatic and purely personal is her style.

Harold Bell Wright's three highly successful stories, “The Shepherd of the Hills, “The Calling of Dan Matthews,’ and “The Winning of Barbara AVorth," are to be dramatised.

Sienkiewicz, whose “Quo Vadis” had opce such a vogue, has just written a new story, “Through the Desert—a Romance of the time of the Mahdi.” Tho Rev. Silvester Horne, M.P., is responsible for an entirely now Life of David Livingstone, to be published in Macmillan's Shilling Library. Walter Pater's “Renaissance Studies” are to appear in a new edition at the same low price. . When, I wonder, are Macmillans to give us a cheap edition of. Pater’s most famous work, “Marius the Epicurean.” Colonel Vounghnsband’s “Story of the Guides,” and one of Mrs C. W. Earle’s book on gardening, are amongst the new Macmillan “shillingsworths.” Added to “Liber's” list of curious titles, “The Man Who Stroked Cats.” by Morley Roberts. But which way did he stroke them —the wrong way Eveleigh Nash, the English publisher of poor <3. Henry’s inimitable yarns, advertises O. Henry us “The American Kipling.” How silly I Why, the two writers have practically nothing in. common, save that they both, for the main part, write short stories. O. Henry, at his best, is quite equal to Kipling nt his best, but it has taken good sleepy .lohn Bull—and the average British publisher is amongst the most somnolent of all J.B.’s —to find out O. Henry. John waited to make the discovery, until O. Henry was dead. And, now “the American Kipling!” No wonder foreigners jeer at our insular conceit. “Recovering the Ashes” is the title of a volume in which J. B. Hobbs, the well known Surrey cricketer, gives his impressions and experiences of the M.C.C.’s successful tour in Australia. A shilling “Lorna Dooue”! Biackmore’s famous storv r.ow appears in the famous “World’s Classics” series.

In a recently published "family history"—"The Betts of Wortham in Suffolk”—the author has some quaint notes on the "medicine” of pre-lteformation England. Hero is an ointment whose "vertyes are infinit” : —"Take 3 black vipners apd vennemous: 3 serpentes: 3 snakes: 3 litell serpentes called aspide: 3 vipers, 3 toads and 10 of those litell beastes called in lataine tartantula or stelliones: which be like lizards: 50 scorpions and if you can git_ any other vennemouse beasts; put then in qwicke.” I like that to "qwicke”-ness. One prescription running to three pages begins by instructing us to "take a young dog of red baire; and keap him three days without meat; and then strangle him with a cords and let him lye dead a quarter of an bower," etc. Tliis oil. when made, could do all kinds of wonders, and once healed a withered arm 1