BOOK NOTICES.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 13894, 4 May 1907, Page 4

BOOK NOTICES.

"Her Majesty's Rebels." By Sydney Royse Lysaght. London: Maeinillan and Co. (5s 6d and 2s 6d.) Mr Lysight is an Irishman, and every page of his fascinating novel is a moro or less passionate, more or less* veiled, appeal for a better understanding 'of the "distressful" country and of the true aims and objccts of her devoted children, whoso enthusiastic patriotism supports them through all troubles and quarre's, springing largely from ditf erencesof creeds and ideals. Failure seems to 'he t!i<?ir destiny, yet hops springs perennially from their defeats. The wrongs that kindled the revolt are still iniforgot'teii, the ideals remain undimmed; "yet it is not the Crown, hut the Government, against which the standard of revolt is laised. Let our people see their King, or Queen and lio sign of disloyalty will mar the greeting. . . . Her Majesty's Opposition fights against the Government of the day; 'Her Majesty's Rebels' fight for the right of governing themselves under her." In pursuance of lliis theme Mr Lysaght gives us a realistic story of the struggles of the Nationalist party in the last generation. The great leader and -hero, Charles Stewart Pamell, is the hero, though the disguise of a different name enables the author to take some liberties with his private -history, and especially to try and explain those events which led to his political downfall. We are expressly warned by the author not to expect a "liberal presentment," and in thus mingling fact and fiction lie may quote (lie precedent of many modern novelists—notably Mrs Humphry Ward and Mrs 'Atherton. Whether it be wise or even in good taste to take such liberties with well-known historical personages is still a moot point in the literary world. In the present case the daring freedom of treatment may be excused by the excellence of the result. In "Her Majesty's Rebels" four major characters and a host of minor ones engage onr attention, and though the story is unusually long it is not a page too long, which is Gay'ing a great deal. The interest is steadily maintained from first to last, and the crisis conies with a crash of shuddering horror and a blank feeling of the inevitable hand of destiny, which is at once a great- compliment to the author and the due reward of his extraordinary power of delineation. Thus two of the chief peisonagcs go out in darkness, and then, lest, the central interest of tho story should be too tragic, tho auiher presents us with two wholly delightful characters: Connor, Desmond's younger brother, who commends himself to our regard as a perfect friend, lover, and brother; fired with a eane put riot ism which acknowledges the impossible and will not- do evil that good may come, and capable of that rare affection that places the happiness of a loved one before its own ; while Kathleen O'Brien is the ideal Irish girl, warm-hearted, affectionate, capable, simple-minded, frolicsome as her own breezes, lovely as her own cloudswept hills, infinitely changing yet ever the same, a hero-worshipper and a patriot, yet deeply conscious that- a woman's first duty is to her husband. In these two we have the brighter side of tho national character, that- inexpressible charm which makes the best Irish men and women ideal companions, friemTs, and lovers the world over. They may not be as sincere as their Saxon neighbours, but, as a.rule, they are a great deal more agreeable. This story is a glimpse of the real Ireland, with its curious extremes of light and shade, passion and pain, frolic and suffering, the quick sympathy, the ardent feeling, " the smile and the tear." Mr Lysaght knows them all, and those who travel with him kuow them too.

Listener's Line." By V'.. V. Lucas. London: Mcthuen and Co. Duncdin: Wlntcoinbe and Tombs. (3s 6d and 2s 6d.)

The intimate charm of private correspondence is well known to all compilers of biography, and the illusive, quaintly alliterative tfilo of Mr Lucas's new book invitco the reader to make just such ;m incursion into the realm of the private and conlidential. In this case, however, the "listener" escapes the fate assigned to him in the old proverb: he hears nothing about himself, had, good, or indifferent- ; but he learns a great deal of the inner working of the minds of Mr Lucas's realistic friends—the shy, diliident, sell-distrustful, introspective maii-of-lettcrs, Lynn llarberton, ami his charming ward and amanuensis, Kditli Graham, with sundry of their friends and correspondents, including eome of Edith's numerous suitors. The book is excellently named, and though we. have read other novels oil the same plan we have never read one more alluring or one in which tha different wivsoualit-y of each yvrito

was lietter individualised. Mr Harberton's letters are specially interesting: they are full of epigrammatic sayings, such as

"a companion is a. mistake in many ways, but chiellv because when be is with you yon are not alone,'' expanded into the following:—" There are a hundred reasons why the cultivated vagabond wishes to bo alone. Jlis sacred selfishness demands it ; be came out for it, otherwise be would have stayed in the city ; 110 one is quite worthy to conimunc with him, every true vagabond being superior to everyone else; he detests having his attention called to beautiful things, every trim vagabond ' being the first detector and judge of beautiful tilings; lie docs not want to agree, still less does he wan! to disagree, for every truo vagabond knows best." Again, what could be better than this excuse, for the, fanner who "takes to the bottle": " Think of an unsuccessful farmer on a wet day. Imagine an unsuccessful farmer with no balance at his banker's and all going wrong u t, home; his illusions dead, tho future one stern frown, and the present a grey sheet of rain, falling, falling, pitilessly, lou know tho German proverb about tobacco: 'God first- made man, then He made woman, and then He felt sorry for man and made tobacco.'. Well equally one might say: Ife first made the land, then He made the agriculturist, and then lie felt sorry for the agriculturist and made wine." "The worst tiling about games is that prolicieney in them can only be obtained by the. neglect of everything else." Then there are some delicious touches of humour in the character of Mrs Wilbei force 1*101; and her

"Cranks," and in the effusions of Kdith's admirers, of whom one—Mr (irceloy Bok, the exponent of Confucianism, who is already married—gravely informs her: "Some men can fight alone, others require a cup-lwarer. I am of these last, and I aid; you if you' will be my cupbearer." _ "Listener's Line" lends it-el: to quotations—indeed one does- not know where to stop,—but tbe followiuir. especially applicable to Mr Lucas and his work, must lie our last:—"lf we want- to see the times reflected in literature we must go to the second and third-rate writers. The best waiters contain all time. They are in their own and of it, but not exclusively of it."' Is that why letters are so attractive? The author in them being subordinated to the man. "The Shulamitc." By Alice and Claude Askew. London: T. Fisher Unwin. (Colonial edition; 3s 6d and 2s 6;I.) The reference to the Song of Solomon conveyed in the suggestive title of this powerful South African story supplies the keynote to the strong, narrow Boer character as displayed in the old veldt farmer Simeon Krillet, no less than in that, of his beautiful young wife.' From time immemorial this position has been a dangerous one, but it is only when the inevitable third peison appears that the dormant- passions wake to iife, and the resultant tragedy is inevitable. In Deborah's case the struggle of the soul is finely depicted. Krillet is slain by her lover just as ho is about to take vengeance on bis faithless wife, and from that moment- her Puritan conscience suffeis more and more, and when she might be. happy as other women are, loving and beloved, she turns from that love as from a deadly sin and "sacrifices herself on the altar of superstition." "Who am I to break a vow unto tho Lord," she says, and resolutely goes away into the darkness ; while the man, who is " powerle:s to snatch her from the horns of the altar," realises when too late that the deep passions of a primitive people touch upon an elemental force which modern creeds and modern men cannot hope to vanquish. This powerful story has been successfully dramatised, and the portraits of Mis;; Lena Ashwell as "The Shulamitc" and Mr Norman M'Kinnel as tho wroiigcd husband serve as frontispiece to tho present volume.

The Hearth o£ Hutton." By W. J. Eccott. London: William Blackwood and Sons, (& Gd and 2s Cel.)

"Tho Hearth of Ilutton'' grows cold in the stormy days of Jacobite rebellion, when its master —whp, in.truth, has little heart for the work—is pressed into the army which came to such a disastrous end at- Culloden. The young wife and babe suffer many things. chiefly through her own folly, the said folly being the special friend of the novelist, who iixlecd rarely concerns himself with philosophers. Mr Eccott has a style of much distinction and grace. The opening paragraph of his tale is arresting, and the promise is well carricd out, the character-drawing being both strong and delicate, and the historical incidents well chosen and effective, dealing rather with the rank and file than with the leaders of tho expedition.

"The Pointing Finger." Uy "Rita." London: T. Fisher Unwin. (& 6d and 2s 6d.)

A lively and amusing yarn of the kind specially adapted for railway travelling, when tho mind is indisposed to exertion a-nd may not- notice that- the mystery foreshadowed in the opening chapters leads to n very tame and impotent- conclusion, and that the "Pointing Finger" has really nothing to do with the story at all. The impersonation of one brother by another is well conceived but carelessly carried

out. In the effort- to be agreeable all round "Rita," like Lady Sue. loses sight of truth, honour, and probability, and lands herself and her readers in an awkward impasse.