BOOKS.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 10619, 14 March 1896, Page 8

BOOKS.

33ut Bittory of 2V>« Ztalaai. By G. W. Kusden. Second edition. Malboum»:

MelviUa, Mullen, snd Siade.

This history, if cot famous, is at least notorious, harlog bean the occasion of a libel unit whloo was in iti way a cause et!Xbre. It is higb time wo ponsewied some reliable and leadabla history of oar colony, and we are lorry that we ar« unable to oall Mf Rusdea'g history either reliable or readable. He Beems entirely to lack tha historian* temperament. BE he had had a better style he might have macle a good pamphleteer, for he has in an unoommon decree the faculty of seeing only one aids of a qaaation. All is fish that cornea to his net, his simple plan of sifting being to take whac »nits him. The irresponsible raving* of, a party newipaper are as seriously treated a* if they wera the contents of a Sato paper. The atrocious libol on Mr Brycs for which Mr Rusden was mulcted in heavy damages was written by him on the mere word of a bishop. The objectionable _passsge has bean expunged from this edition; hat to oar anlegal mind there still seem to oe ample gronoda left for half a dozsn hopeful libol actions Mr Bryco, Sir John Hall, Sir George Grey, Mr Rolleston, and other* who attempted to cops with Native difficnlties by vigorous action are abased with a sputtering, incoherent virulence that is amusing till it becomes tiresome. Wa have always been very much alive to the ludicrous side of the Parihaka affair. Mr Bryce with his white charger, and his bloodless victory over a few unresisting Maoris would, in the hands of a capable writer, lend itself to effective treatment in the way of historical irony. It will be a lonnt-boucht for the New Zealand historian who has not yet appeared. Ab for Mr Rasden'a treatment of the episode, it is a shoer nightmare. Not merely U thera no attempt to discriminate evidenoa, but there seems to be an entire laok of the power to suleofc, co-ordinate, and condenso. Cuttings from the Lyttelton Times, screeds of TeWhiti's oracular vapourings, snatches from Sir Arthur Gordon's despatches, and innumerable borrowed snippets marked with inverted commas mafca np the most indigestible hotch-potch that has come in our way for some time. This is the kind of mosaic that Mr Burden offers us for history :—" The Wesieran minister (R;v. J. Luxford) preaching at Patea exposed tha injustice that bad been done to the Maoris and that which was in its fell course. The reporter said he was ' listened to attentively, but the feeling here is unanimous mtfavour of war.'" ' If we do not have a war,'the Lyttelton Times said, 'it will be because. Ta Whiti is too great a man to be goaded into hostilities.1 The same paper declared that Atkinson's ra-eleetion had been deemed insecure, aed that the destruction o£ Parihaka was the sbamefnl price for which security was to bo bought. Me Da Lautour appaaled through the columns of the same pap-K against Pfeadergast's 'injadicious and unreasonable' proclamation. Every Maori slain under it would be 'a human soul murdered for no better reason than this : that successive Ministries have bsen as fruitful to promise as they have been slow to parformtheir promises.' " Was ever before anything calling itself history got np in this cheap and nasty way. A Wesleyan p"reacher, a reporter, the Lyttelton Times, and Mr Da Lautour all in the concsa of one short paragraph. Mr Rasden's invective, if not nary, Incisive, has a certain cumulative force. He kaepa " pegging away." Tois is the sort of tiling:-"The astute Whitaker sad his 'iccomplices knew well that to the multitude, which caxes not to analyse, the settlement of the question would be pleasing, howsoever brought abont. A general election was approaching, and they paraded their intention to crash the Maori ones and for ever." " The hand of Hall," says Mr Busden elsawhsrs?, "which had simulated tha hand af one Governor ia 18S8, was ready to control that of PrencJergaar. in the absence of another in 1881." To s»7 that one gentleman simulates the band of another is surely sailiDg prstty near the wind.

The first volume oi the history is the most Interesting, partly because the early history o£ the colony is more picturesque and romantic, and partly beoausa Mr Kasden's faults as a historian are not bo much in evidence as when tie details the history of his own times. In justice to Mr Rusden, it must be said that hfs championship of tha Maori seems earnest enough, thoagh it is too fanatical to be just. "

The Man from Snowy River, and other Verses. By A. B. PATHB3ON, Sydney:

Angus and Robertson.

There can be no doubt that in Mr Patereon W3 have s post; something better, that Is to ' aay, than a vers«-ma&er. Correct verwfication seems to ns as easy as lying: the wonder is that so many fail in it. But, in oar sad experience, most colonial poets do fail in it: Mr Pateraon, we are glad to say, is an exception, being master of his measures and his rhymes. It is true that his versification does not require to strive after delicate harmonies; being of the trundling, rollicking, dactylic kind fitted for celebrating the restless outdoor lifs of Australia. Where Mr Paterson's higher poetic qualities show themselves is in she feeling he has for the pathos and humuarof Australian country life and in his artist's ova for the ptcfeTuerqae of colonial life and scenery. The horse to the Australian has an importance little inferior to that o£ the human auimal; and this volume is full of tbs poetrj of the hor*e. "The Man from Saowy River," ths short piece which titles tbe book, is really a short horse epic—dealing with the unexpected prowess of a coitam weady animal and his rider—how all the not=d riders of the countryside had mnsterad to round in a herd of wild bush horses «rhich had been joined by a famous and valuable colt from old Regret. The experienced brahmen look at the stripling and his weedy nag, and think he " had batter stop away." But Clancy, of the Overflow, stands his friend and he joins the hunt, and is the only man in at the finish :—

And one was there, a stripling, on a small and

weedy beast, He was something like a racehorse, tindersized, With a touch of Timor pony, three-parts thoroughbred a', least, And such as are by mountain herdsman prized. He was hard, and tough, and wiry—just the sort

th»t won't say die— There was courage in his quick, impatient tread ; And he bore the badge of sameness in his bright and fiery eye, And the proud and lofty carriage of Inn head.

They came to a point where the chase seemed desperate, and the hardiest riders regarded the game as np : —

And the Old man mattered fiercely: "We may bid the mob good day, Xo mau can hold them down the other side."

But the man from Snowy River, weafcling mau on weakling liorae as he seemed at first, went on when others halted.

" And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam ; , He followed like a bloodhound on tlie track, Till they ha ted, cowed and beaten, thou he turned

their heads for home, And alone aad unassisted brought them back. But his hardy mouutaiu pony ho could scarcely

raise a trot, H<3 was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur; But his pluck wa» still undaunted and his courage fiery hot, For nevsr yet was mountain horse a cur.

In "Black Swans " tho poet strikes a more meditative note, and " Under the Shadow of Kilsy's Hill," where the theme is a rafterlsss bush homestead, seizes with some skiil .ithe patboa of too situation. We can commend Mr Patarson's volume to those who love motion and excitement in their poetry, and to those who love ■ horseo. Farther, thesu poems are unmistakably Australian, and accordingly, national.

Aorangi, and other Verses. By DAVID M'Kbe Whigiit. DiAicdia: Mills, Dick, and Co. These veraiotes are not at all bad. They are manifestly the work of one who loves poetry, and has himself, some poetic feeling. The workmanship is far from faultless, bat still it is promising. Mr Wright is ambitions enough to try a gonuet; and it is a good sign to have a leaning to tills form of verse. But hi« soonot form is rery eccentric, and we should advisa him to confine hia attempts for aoms time to come to tho legitimate sonnet form. It is an unpardonable heresy to carry the octave rhymas into the sestet. Hia address to " Aorangi" is in blank Terse, and these are tho last linen of it: Friend of the stars 1 At midnight in tho mirror of the lake, Amid their sileut councils ehalt thoa stand; And mark the waving robe of mortal fate. Working in the silken lines of dsys and years Upon the never-resting loom of Time. And thou shall sea it all, all that must be, Or ever can be in thine island home; And the rich heirs of Mine th»t centuries And ajes yet unborn shall hither bring Will still look up to thee in wondering »we, Jvteraal cbancsless wander «f the world I

"A Bpring-Umo Kyll" to peflapi thi hmi pleo* tn th« collection—a trifle senthßectal perhaps, but bright, toll of fancy, and wall Terrified. "Dog wad Man" show* al*o a commendable sympsQry with dnmb brat* oreatures. :