LITERATURE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3195, 9 June 1915, Page 76

LITERATURE.

EC OX NOTICES

‘The Family.” By Elinor Mordaunt Loudon : Methuen and Co. Invercar-

gill: J. G. HXk

03 6d, 2s 6d.)

Tins is the intimate story of the life of a country squire and his numerous . progeny. Seven sens and four daughters lived to maturity, several others died young and do not come into the story, except perhaps as a warning against too large families. The irascible father, the patient, conventional mother, are pictured to the life; so are the young people, though only two of them are really anything out of the ordinary, and of these two, one, Sebastian Hebberton, is a genius, with a special gift fer fine, delicate research work, needing an exceptionally clear, analytical brain and “the hands of a specialist”; and the other is Pauline, the heroine, a frank, open-hearted girl, with the courage, and dear-outlook of a nice boy, ford of sport, an admirable horsewoman, and a great believer in the traditions and glories of “The Family.” The story begins about the time of the First Jubilee, and is continued to the present time; it therefore covers the transitional period of the end of the last century and paints the evolution in customs and fashions; and, particularly, in ideals and public opinion, of the last 30 years. Squire Hebberton and his wife are examples of the Late Victorian style, and determined shutting of the eyes to urtpleasant truths so characteristic of that period. Sebastian “goes wrong” and finds his whole life spoiled for the want of a little plain-speaking at the formative period of his life, when the surging passions of puberty need restraint and training ; in the same way Pauline, before she is 18, is allowed to marry a man as old as her father, for whom she has no real affection; and this without any preliminary warning or instruction. In the same way all the other children are left to grow up without trade or profession in an easy-going, comfortable environment, where there is always plenty of everything except ready money. And the only thing really instilled into the family is that it is “not good form” to work for one’s living, except in the learned professions, and that “trade” is anathema. One and all of the young people fail to maintain the position thus vaguely set before {bem; they are all more or less false to their absurd traditions, and the only two who attain any measure of worldly success do it through the medium of despised “trade.” The squire’s happy-go-lucky methods in respect to money matters end in financial ruin, whereupon the youngest girl remarks “Why doesn’t papa draw a big cheque, and pay them all,” an ignorance characteristic of the whole family. The charm of the story lies in its excellent characterisation. Not only is every member of the Hebberton family painted to life, but so are their relations and friends, the peasants of two hamlets, and the High Church parson who suffers himself to be fpolcd by the worst members of his flock, systematically taking the part of the lazy and drunken, “the lost sheep,” believing their querulous Iving tales while ignoring and neglecting the hard-working uncomplaining persons who do their best to live decently and keep their heads above water. As a novel of manners, setting forth with much perspicacity a transitional state of society, already looked upon as ancient history. Miss "Elinor Mordaunt’s new book should take a high place in the modern literary world.

“The Great Hazard.” By Silas Hocking. London: T. Fisher Unwin. (3s, 25.)

‘‘The Great Hazard’’ is marriage, and Mr S las Hooking’s new story is chiefly concerned with two most unfortunate marriages, one being the result of pity without love and the ether of ignorance. In earh case a considerable amount of hardship is shown, and the author uses them as a strong protest against the working i f the English divorce laws, which still remain almost mediaeval in their stern enforcement of the letter of the contract: “The law is the law, and there is no evading it. The law makes no

account of eugenics; neither does the C'-urch. You are married, and there’s an end of it.” A life-long martyrdom, or an unauthorised wav of escape, are the only alternatives. In addition to the more serious questions, and as a relief from them, Mr Silas Hocking introduces two comic characters, and in the utterances of Mrs Body and Samuel Sleeman gives us a very acceptable touch of Cornish humour. Mrs Body is the lodging-house keeper who tries in vain to tempt the appetite of her delicate clerical lodger: “Would you believe it, ’e ■ don’t like pasties, an’ ’e don’t like squab pie, an’ ’e don’t like ’eavv cake, an’ ’e even turns up ’is nose at a dish of creamy sops—says as ’ow they upsets his indigestion. I put a pound of fat bacon in the crock two carrots, four tatevs, haaf a flat-poul cabbage, an’ a dumping. An’ I boiled ’em for a full hour. An’ when I took ’im in the broth ’e looked up surprised an’ says, ‘Mrs Body, what in the world is this?’ ‘Ait it.’ I savs, ‘an’ it will line your insides.’ ‘But all the fat is swimming on the top,’ ’e says. ‘So much the better,’ says I, it’ll stick to yer ribs an’ do ’e good.’ Well, ’c took just wan spoonful, an’ you should ’ave seen ’is face. ‘Bring me some bread an’ chees, Mrs Body,’ ’e says. . . . Did ye ever ’ear of omblets, an’ blue monges, an’ on-trays, an’ curried chickens, an’ scrambluig eggs, an’ things like that?” Samuel Sleeman is a much-married gardener-sex-ton, whose matrimonial experiences are of the most amusing nature.

“Red Hair.” By Robert Halifax. London : Methuen and Co. Melbourne, etc. : G. Robertson and Co. (3s fid, 2s fid.) This story will make an immediate appeal to anyone who as a child or later in life has suffered with shrinking sensitive-

ness from the cry of “carrots” or “ginger.” It mirrors the dumb agony of a g rl rendered morbidly sensitive and reckless by persistent “chaff'’ and perpetual allusion to a personal peculiarity, which she had been taught to look upon as disfiguring. almost disgraceful. To the thickfkimird such sensitiveness appears ridiculous; but the keenest mental suffering may be caused in this way, as the' present author evidently knows well. The “red hair” of the title page has, however, a much wider significance than the Titian locks of a little office girl. An original love-romance arises out of this seeming physical affliction, for the red hair and the tender nature behind find great favour in the sight of a strange lonely being who bet for the girl’s evident suffering would never have noticed her, and having noticed her, finds a panacea for his own ills in seeking to assuage the keenness of her pain. The consciousness of a mutucl “want” thus rectified, affords that surcease from suffering which may be found in mutual help and sympathy. The tele is cast in a somewhat sombre key, enlivened, however, by several humorous characters, notably Scottie, the shoeblack, and “the lady next door,”