A NOVEL BY RICHARD JEFFERISES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2120, 11 October 1894, Page 40

A NOVEL BY RICHARD JEFFERISES.

By R. B.

Some years ago — I cannot remember bow* many— l read an article by an English critio npon Richard Jefferies, The writer, after lauding Jefferies for his genuine and beautiful writings descriptive of Nature, stated that he was not a novelist, and that his works of notion were failures. For some time I felt disposed to agree with the critio, for the few novels by Jefferies which came in my way were blighted, so to speak, by over-analysis and a laok of sustained interest. Recently, however, I have been led to disagree with the critic, and also to change my own opinion. While rummaging among a lot of seedylooking books upon the topmost shelves of a library I dropped npon Richard Jefferies's novel, "Green Fern Farm." On the title page of this book it states that it was reprinted from "Time" in 1880, Smith, Elder, and 00. being tbe publishers. On the page facing the index are the words, " Inscribed to Jessie." Now, after reading this book through twice, I am prepared to assert that in "Green Fern Farm" Jefferleß reaches a degree of excellence worthy of Thomas Hardy. In this book the characters are well drawn, the descriptive writiDg is delightful, and the interest of the story is well sustained.

The scene is laid in either Wiltshire or Berkshire. The book opens by introducing us to two old farmers, oronies, who are gossiping at the churoh gate while the bell is ringing for Sunday service. These mem .. are probably drawn from life, and their conversation savours of miDgled cuteness and simplicity. Just as the churoh bell ceases ringing tbe two principal female characters, Margaret Estcourt and May Fisher, appear upon the scene. This is how Jefferies describes his heroine, Margaret, as she appeared in church: "She was simply very near tbe ideal of a fair young English girl, in the full glow of youth, and with all its exquisite bloom. Perhaps at the first glance the beautiful poße of the tall and graceful figure seemed her most distinctive characteristic." In the next chapter we are introduced to the two friends, Geoffry Newton and Valentine Brown; both fine, manly fellows, and would-be lovers of Margaret. The Rev. Felix St. Bees, curate, and lover of May Pisher, is next introduced to our notica. Jefferies depicts St. Bees as a clergyman distinctly above the average : thus he naturally claims a good deal of the reader's attention. He appears before us as a man with a good headpiece, who has a philosophical bent, and who is besides actuated by a fine vein of charity. In the first half of the book there is some exquisite writing descriptive of meadows and woodlands. Among tbe characters which claim our attention there is a quaint, cnte, dried-up patriarch of a labourer who goes by the • name of "Pistol-legs." This old man has apparently a dash of the psgan in him to judge by his conversation. At a roadside alehouse a farmer addresses him thus : "Ha ! ha 1 and after all your 'sperlence, Pistol-legs, what do cc think be the best thing of all?" "Awl" said the ancient, picking up his stioks, and delivering bis philosophy of the aWrmium honum with Intecße gusto, "the vinest thing of all be a horn o' ale and a lardy cake 1" In Chapter IX there is an account of a discovery made by some rustics of the remains of a Roman soldier, and their comments thereupon as heard by the Rev. Felix St. Bees, who happened to ride up jusj; as they prised up the stone covering the remains. "He were a whopper yon ! " " The giant Goliar, I'll warn," oaid the aged man on the bank. "Don'c disturb the skeleton I cried Felix, anxious to make scientific notes of the interment — whether the grave was " orientated," &o. — but in the^scramble for the bones his voice was unheeded, and the skeleton was disjointed in an instant. " Drow urn in this here," said the landlord, as the buzz subsided, holdiDg out a stable bucket which he had fetched. So skull and femur, radius and ulna— all the relics of poor humanity — were "chucked" indiscriminately into the stable bucket. " A warn a' were buried in th' time o' Judges," said Jim. "Un set up stones for memorials, doan'fc you mind?" From the disturbed earth above he picked up a crooked piece of brass. It passed from hand to hand till the landlord, rubbing it on his sleeve, found some letters. " Paason ull tell uz what it means," said he, giving it to Felix, who spelt out slowly, as he removed the clinging particles of earth, "GAUDEAM US." " What be thuck ?" "•Let us rejoice.'" " Sartinly." "My friendf," said Felix solemnly, "this is a fragment from an ancient Roman trumpet — a trumpet sounding to us from the tomb. Let ua rejoice in the certainty of the life to come I" "I be main dry," said the blacksmith. Felix, as he rode away, saddened, thought to himself : *' That we should come to this— made in the Divine image, and thrown at last into a stable bucket 1 Ah I the tinker's ass is thrusting his nose into tbe bucket. • Let ub rejoice ' — what a satire!"

Ere the book finishes a realistic quarrel which took place between Geoffry and Valentine is admirably described. Toward* the end of the book we have a description of a marriage feast, partaken of by gentle and simple together, which 1$ replete witti fcumottn The. delightful lov£ sfcorr whictt

puns through the book, but whioh I shall not attempt to describe, is not the least of its attractions. • To sum up, ** Green F«m Farm" ia a book distinctly above the average. It ig true to life, replete with humour, and Is imbued with a gracefulness sf style whioh oannot fail to charm even the Critical reader.