BOOK NOTICES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2299, 24 March 1898, Page 51

BOOK NOTICES.

HONEY OF ALOES. By Noea VyNNis. London: Ward, Lock, and Co. Danedin * Braitbwaite's Book Arcada. " Honey of Aloes," together with its companion stories, appsarad first in the English magazines ; but there is co doubt that as a whole the stories fully justify their claim to reissue in book form. Perhaps in point of length the title story merits its prominence, but in point of literary excellence it falls far short of its companions. The record of two married lovers who found marriage a failure and resolved to parr, " Honey of Aloes " presants some extremely natural features well and pleasingly treated, but the mass of detail renders the episode, for it is but an episode, heavy and inane. Of the remaining stories, " The Suicide in Garb Street" may be singled out as the best, while " A Successful Story." " A Bride and "Bridegroom," and " Their Beassm " are each excellent in their own Btjle. Some of tfce episodes are mere sketches— outlines only — / but firm in the handling, true to life, and palpably real, even down to their abrupt * ending. They are soslende r t sonia of these fragments, that they are contained in a mere conversation — as, for instance, 1 " Lost Kisses," yet so clever is the suggestion, so subtle the brief indications of oacugtoucd to the central figures, that a whole pas>t may be easily constructed from these few outline strobes. A more pitiful incident than " Their Reason" even life itself has seldom seen, while "The Suicide of Curb Street " is one of those bitter ironies which the realism of the Poiics Court and the coroner's noto book bring to light for sensation-mongers no gloat over and moralists to preach upon. The ugly incident of " A Happy Family " is only one more sermon preached on the truth of "the Bons of the* fathers," bat it is worked out on new lines, and with startling effect. The delicacy of treatment in this short episode is really marvellous, considering the ugly nature of the situation. To those in (search of a book of shore stories decidedly above the average, we may safely commend " Hon6y of Aloes," always premising that it is a book for those who have sounded the depths of life themselves rather than for the young, whose ignorance and inexperience may best remain unenligctaneJ. STANDISH OF STANDISH. By Jane G. Apstin. London : \Ward, Lock, and Co.- Danedin: Braithwaite's Book Arcade. Most of us have read and smiled over Longfellow's charming " Courtship of Miles Standish" — that is to say, most of the elder .generation.' Of tbe rising generation few • can " plead guilty to the soft impeachment," as tbe phrase-monger hath it, for the rising generation " Can't stand poetry at any price, dontcherknow ! " and thus, for their benefit, we may welcome this prettily-written and dainty prose version of Miles Standish's wboiDg. The factP, incontrovertible and historical, of those early days of Puritan colonisation are all most loyally dealt with as the foundation of the story which Miss Austin tells so pleasingly, and upon which she builds so pretty a superstructure of romance. Beginning with the landiDg of the Pilgrim Fathers from the Mayflower, and following all the toil, danger, and privation of those historic times, embroidered with womanly detail of life, and love, and labour, couched in the quaint, prim phraseology of the time, " Standish of Standish " is a charming Old World romance — a very treasure of a book for presentation to' young girl?, and in some senses an extremely-artistic production. If we read the preface aright we take it that the present volume has been followed by a sequel, bearing the alliterative title of " A Nameless Nobleman." As " Standish of Standish" is the only one of Mrs Austin's

books which has come under our notice, we ! must admit that the favourable impression we have gained of her style is solely based on the one work. Our readers perhaps have already come across some of her other tales, which bear the following titles : " Moon , Folk," "The Desmond Hundred," "Nantucket Scraps," and " Mrs Bsauchamp Brown." THE APPLES OF SIN. By Ooulson Keen ah an. London : Ward, Lock and Co. Dunedin : Braithwaite's Book Arcade. Ths extraordinarily powerful stories by Mr Ooulson Eernahan which comprise the " Strange SinB 1 Series " are probably familiar to most of our readers, and scarcely need comment or criticism from us As the work of one of the most talented writers of our , time, aa a realistic tragedy of the sexual ! passion that slays soul and body, •• The Apples i of Sin" must arrest the • attention of the' prude and the prodigal alike. And yet it is so simple I Only tbe* story of an unlawful ; love, a woman who prefers passion to honour, a man who ruins her and wearies of her : just the common old story that is going on all round vs — so the moralists say. Bat Ooulson Sernahan is a moralist to whom men will listen, cot a preacher before whom they will yawn. How keen and true is hi-s picture of the impulsive, beauiiful woman, stung by wounded pride, rendered vixenish by Belf -contempt and diehonour. "The Apples of Siu are all poisoned at the core," she said, " and every unlawful pleasure we pursue ie transformed at last into a hound that tare a and rends us. There was a time when 50a would have sold your soul to call me yours ; and now — well, now, you would give tne world to be rid of me."

How truly she speaks the man confesses in his own fashion. " How weary I was of this woman no words can say. . . . Passion which has once passed away will never return under protest, and the kisses and caresses which I had at one time coveted had become stale and joyless to me, for she vras lavish of them." ■ ■ . ■ How the man's cowardice and selfishness stand revealed in his own words ! " I had otten in my lifetime stepped aside from the paths of right doing into by-ways of sin, bat I had taken care to keep an eye on the road whence I came, for 1 was too fearful of consequences to wander too far afield." What a picture it is that Ooulson Kernahan sets before vs — the lonely mountain side far above the little German town, the miserable woman, the selfish, wearied man, criminating and recriminating, conjuring up under that cloudless sky, out of the peace and stillness of that lovely solitude, the hell of their own dishonoured lives — the hideous tragedy which shall presently claim them. The story is not for us to tell, but whether ifc be read as one of the episodes in the "Book of Strange Sins" or whether it stands alone a3 in the beautifully got up little volume before us matters not — it is a bloodstained, tearblotted page torn from the book of life. JEWEL MYSTERIES I HAVE KNOWN. By Max Pembekton. London: Ward, Lock, and 00. Danedin: Braithwaite's Book Arcade. These " Jewel Mysteries " of MaxPemberton are quite the best of the pseudo-detective stories we' have had aince Oonan Doyle turned our heads with his inimitable " Adventures of Sherlock Holmes." The history of all great gems is the history of " battle, murder, and of sudden death," intermixed with many women and some comedy, therefore in choosing jewel mysteries as the vehicle for his inventiveness the author showed excellent judgment, and acquired preemptive rights in the whole gamut of adventure, tragedy, and comedy. Of the 10 episodes with their many excellent illustrations which make up the book we may safely aßsert there is not one that flagB — there is life and go about every one of them. Now it is

a tragedy, now it is a cemedy, and again it is only a melodrama which folds its mystery about the respective jewels — their disappearance or recovery ; but in every case the wife of the raconteur is sharp and keen, the sketches of character are excellent, and tfas sense of humour pleasantly prevalent. To pass an idle hour agreeably may not be a lofty ambition, to beguile the tedium of a wearisome journey may not seem a point for ambition, but it is surprising how grateful we feel to the author who can compass these aims for us. The benison of many a weary traveller will rest on Max Pemberton for his pleasantly -told "Jewel Myßteries," and the observant man will add a warm commendation of the beautifully clear type, while the artistic man will confess his pleasure heightened by Caton Woodville's and Fred Barnard's fine illustrations.