A CHAT ON BOOKS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2571, 24 June 1903, Page 61

A CHAT ON BOOKS.

"Winslow Plain," by Sarah P M'Lenn Greene, is the book 1 have chosen fui our Chat to-day. Partly lam influenced m my choice by the excellence of the book, partly by the fact that it is like all Mi-> Greene's books, essentially a woman's story, and partly because it is rome time since we have taken un one of these American

novels. Those of you who have read "Vfsty of the Basins" or "Floodtide" will know with what easy humour, simple pathos, and delicate detiil Mis Greene draws the village portraits and village life which she has chosen as her especial field in the literature of the hour.

The stoiy is told by a very small, delicate, and decidedly tearful little boy. called Timothy, whose whole childish soul is laid in j'doring love and gratitude at the feet of a strong, calm, and beautiful girl, Patience Haskell, his Sunday School teacher. Timothy's recital begins at an early age. He is only eight, when on a certain Sunday, being bathed in the waters of tribulation — and t e;t i « . Patty takes him on her knee for comfort and toot lung.

"She se-emed to make no account of me, rocking back and fox-th at intervals as easily as if I had been an infant of eight months instead of a shattered hero of as many years, resting her chin on my head for convenience, and once, when she had to turn the leaf, she covered me with both arms, and I felt the pages of the Sabbath Instructor flirting deliriously about my nose." Following the example of his elders, this timid, nervous, little Timothy has been accustomed to long introspective confessions and petitions, embracing the day's doings and backslidings, for his evening prayers. Patty, with daring intuition, persuades him to a new viewpoint of the stern aad dreadful God he has hitherto trembled before.

"Xow," shtt says, "you've got to^ay your prayers to God as if he loved you. Then j-ou won't laugh or nrike faces at the meet-ing-house steeple. You will say, ' That's pointing up to heaven, where father and mother are, and the dear God who leads me through the world.' Don't be afraid. God won't lose you. Don't be a little girl cry-baby any longer. Stand up for yourself and be a man." So it comes about that " Timmins '" adopts a new theology, which stands him in good stead, even on occasions of backsliding. -" 'Dear God,' 6aid I. getting down '-quarely on my knees, 'you love me and I love you. Amen.' " But on one -fateful occasion, a passion of love and repentant grief moving him — " 'Dear God.' I sobbed, kneeling with buried head, "you Jove me and I love you.'"' But this was not enough for my present sad case, and an inspiration came: " 'P.S. — I'll do better to-morrow' " ! Now there were points about the very occasion in question and its fateful back-

sliding which illustrate with delightful completeness the Arcadian simplicity of life at Window Plain. A religious conference had been pleasantly timed to precede a strawberry festival, thus effectually combining spiritual and temporal blessings. Winslow Plain, I may remark, was famous for its strawberries. " The religious exercises would seem to have been of a severely searching nature, if we may judge by the title of one subject at least — "The Probable Location of Hell: With Biblical Warnings" — the innocent delights of the evening's strawberry festival were therefore felt to be a well-merited set-off. But the occasion was one which required seemly preparation ; the village self-respect mu^t be maintained, and honour done to the visiting brethren. "White was the conventional apparel for little boys and girls on such an occasion. My aunt brought down from a box in the attic some white duck trousers, which had been my father's, and by duplex turning up of the legs shortened them to mv dimensions, and by a gathering"•trini; both at ;<nk!es and waist secured them to my small person Otherwise she fitted me out with a white nankeen barque (bodice) of he/ own, with sleeves modium flowing. . , . When I say that among that sweet old assembly of revelleis at Winslow Plain mv dies-, was not specially noticeable, and did not consign me to any eccentric orbit of my own. it will be seen that the fashion of our clothes was modili'd by a wise and submissive adaptation of the material at hand. 1 '

Timothy, howevei. is not too absorbed in the story of his child i-h joys and sonow.s to he the chronicler of village event*, as well as the faithful recorder of the too brief but lovely life of Patience Haskell As one expects in the case of such a beautiful girl. Patience is surrounded by rustic lovers. Percy Knight, whom '•he loves, is the most ambit 'ous; Bob Aspinwall, who loves her, the wealthiest; tho others adore more oi le. e s at a dist nice, thankful for the crumbs offered by fickle occasion.

To Percy Knight, Patience promises herself conditionally : "'You asked me once if I loved you and would mairy you. I said yes. and my intention is still good. But as for waiting, what can I promise you? I may still be on hand when you have acquired the atmosphere that suits you — and I may not." There is no coquettishness in the words — a deeper, sadder thought lies beneath them. She remembers I sadly enough what her kind old uncle has ' kept sacred from the gossips of Winslow ! Plain — "a father dying of consumption at ' 29 and a mother dying at 26, insane," and wonders whether she, strong us she is, may hope to wait until her lover fulfils his* desire. "In three years' time, Patience, I mean to have money enough to make a home for you worthy of you. My wife 1 shall not toil as my mother has done." And j yet the big, strong fellow has no fear ! of work for himself, for in this very summer j vacation he was "fanning it" for his father t for his board and 20dol a month — and ] when the Knights' hay was made, Percy j "hayed it" for the neighbours at a dollar o, day. i In those three years of working and '""waiting we have time and opportunity to grow intimate with the simple folk of Winslow Plain, whose characters are so finely, humorously. and sympathetically drawn for us. The majestic Mrs Harps- ) well, with her splendid voice, her purple I gown,- and her confident Christianity ; | wealthy, hard-fisted old Deacon Dexter, i ruling his household and hirelings with an iron hand, and yet powerless to control his , cold handsome daughter Abigail, who in turn is conquered by the daring strength and audacity of Dolliver Hough, the hired man, who conies from California, and has

the delightful 'and compelling force of one who has .seen and known the world. We smile at the queer old "tinkerer" Shi'.oh ; at the curious hymns in which the devout pour forth their spiritual triumph or .desolation. We junket around .to "candle dippings," missionary meetings, and Sunday school feasts ; we even penetrate to the purely feminine atmosphere of a "quilting bee, " where Timothy, taken by Aunt Berenice, is kept busily employed threading needles for the- assembled bees. whose tongues are as busy as their needles.

Yes, and we understand all too clearly the meaning of the sorrowful, dismayed, scornful, or pitiful tone which encompasses the frequent mention of Kate Bradford's name. Pretty, sprightly Kate, always a trifle too audacious for the taste of Winslow Plain, and wlium Mrs Harpswell had sttongly demuned to admitting to the church last fall, and who now was an enigma to which the name of every young man in the village might be the key.

Was it Percy Knight, or Bob Aspinwall, or this or that young man who had made Ka.te'B name a byword and shnfc her out fiom the sympathy )f all good women . . except Patience Haskell? These were hard and trying times for Patience. Percy Knight was away — more than that, he was silent; — and that Patience herself had forbidden him to write somehow did not seem to make silence any less lonely. Thespiiit of evil seemed to be abroad in the village. Following hard >n Kate Bradford's downfall came the amazing news that Deacon Dexter's strong box had been robbed.

A cloud seems to have obscured the bright faith and courage of Patience Haskell: a curious divining of her glorious physical strength and a pathetic desire to lean, instead of being leaned on, developes itself. Young as he is, Timothy, rendered wise beyond his years by the intensity of his devotion, feels more deeply than anyone the change in his beloved Patty, and divines its cau'-e. Just as the good folks of Window i-lum aie getting over the ex-

citement of Patty Haske-H's engagement tv Torrance Haven, they are thrown into a state of sympathising emotion by the mysterious disappearance of . . Aunt Berenice's Timothy ! Yes, Timothy takes upon himself to bring Percy Knight home, fully believing

m his faith and loyalty, . . . confident that here lies the magic charm, with which to work Patty's transformation. He comes, indeed, only too gladly— « comes in time to give "Patty the assurance of his love which shall light up the path-" way through the Valley ot the Shadow ;' but the only transformation which awaita Timothy's beloved is that one not seen of mortal eyes, "when this mortal shall have put on immortality."

After Patty's death village mysteries clear with the confession which plucky little Bob Aspfnwall wrings from Dolliver Hough, that it was he who stole Deacon Dexter's money, he who wronged Kate Bradford ; he, indeed, who has played the villain in this village melodrama. Yet "it is never too late to mend," and the concluding chapter assures us, among other things, of the marriage and prosperous settlement on his far-off Californian farm of Dolliver and Kate. Percy Knight in his profession, Bob Aspinwall, and brave and tender Torrance Haven all live to show in their lives the abiding influence of sweet Patience Haskell, while Abigail Dexter finds her true *«ye in a far nobler 'man than Dolliver Hough..