LITERATURE and LIFE

Otago Witness, Issue 3782, 7 September 1926, Page 78

LITERATURE and LIFE

A DEAD AIRMAN.

May's tapestry of gieen and gold Was hung about us fold on fold, Where, in the copaa, the cuckoo calls, k scented arras on the walls Of space ami time, that held us close As bees are garneied by the rose. And w e two, walking in that wood, Hud half forgot the mire and blood. (K'rgive us, you who sleep in France!) We "half forgot, and then some chance Pr some stern angel led the way Through quiet fields to where he lay Broken, beneath his broken wings, Dead, who had known but twenty springs, Still, where a million pulses beat, Face downwards in the young green wheat. That wreckage, gaunt and angular, Had flashed above us like a star An hour before. Its course was done; Finished; and one more woman’s son Had cast the cloak so dearly bought, With patience and in travail wrought For nine long months, worn twenty years, How gaily! Now Fate’s awful shears Had rent it, and the naked soul Slipped out. at once. To see life whole One needs good eyes, but only God Can so view death. —Moray Dalton, in the London Mercury. WONDER CHILDREN OF ALL AGES. There exists a general impression that precocious children become commonplace in after years (says a writer in John o’ London’s Weekly). If this is true there are many notable exceptions. Byron and Disraeli were both precocious; J. S. Mill also: he began Greek at the age of three. De Quincey records that at il he read the “De Imitatione” of Thomas a Kempis, and writes of “the savage delight I found in laughing at Tom’s Latin ity.” * # * But none of these celebrities produced any work of exceptional merit at an early age. Yet instances are not infrequent of successes obtained in youth. The case of Chatterton is only 100 familiar. W. H. Ireland, the Shakespearian forger, wrote “Vortigern” at 18; Boucicault and Sacha Guitry at the same age produced successful plays; that of the former, “London Assurance,” kept the boards for many years. More remarkable still, Douglas Jerrold :;t i 4 wrote “More Frightened Than Hurt,” which was played at Sadler’s Wells, translated into French, played in Haris, re-translated into English, and played in London undei* another title. Jane Austen may fairly be reckoned amongst the precocious writers, for she was only fourteen when, she wrote that delightful burlesque “LdYe and Friendship,” and at 19 had begun “Sense and. Sensibility.” Miss Daisy Ashford wrote “The Young Visiters” at nine years old: but in her case, as in that of the still more remarkable Pet Marjorie (Sir Walter Scott’s little friend), we enjoy their efforts for the refreshing mixture of childishness and precocity. * * * These exceptional children are, however, put in the shade by two others, whose feats border on the miraculous. The first was the son of the celebrated diarist, John Evelyn, and his father thus writes of him: “At two years and alialf old he could perfectly rea l ny of the English, Latin, French, or (fotliic letters, pronouncing the first three languages exactly.” Later he cvinceA a strong passion for Greek; he could recite a prodigious number of verses, studied Euclid and so forth: the catalogue of his accomplishments is a i«mg one. In addition his father i-.dds: “He was all life, all prettiness, far from morose,” etc. The poor child died in 1057 at the age of five. Christian Heinecken, born in 1721, at Lubeek, was a still greater marvel. He spoke sensibly soon after his birth; before he was a year old he could talk on most subjects; at 13 months he had mastered the whole Bible; in the next couple of years he studied thoroughly ancient and modern history and geography; then learned Latin and French, which he spoke fluently, exhibiting his powers at the Court of Denmark in liis fourth year. But his constitution was feeble and lie died on being weaned in 1725. The story sounds almost incredible, but the evidence seems conclusive; his tutor wrpte hia life, and there are two other contemporary accounts besides several articles and studies. BOOKS OF THE DAY. ANOTHER FORD BOOK. ‘The Great To-day amt Greater Future.’’ By Henry Ford, in collaboration with Henry Crowther. Australia: Cornstalk Publishing Co., Sydney. - Mr Henry Ford has made a big place for himself as a manufacturer. He is making a big name as an author. “My liife and Work” was in every sense a great book.' “The 1 -oat To-day” is an arresting book, '» should be read

by ever/ thinking man and woman. Though it deals with the serious business of life, it is not a book to pass. It is not dull. It is indeed as fascinating as many a novel and much more stimulating than most. It challenges much of the established order in a manner which compels attention. A few extracts best illustrate the point:— The right price is not what the traffic will bear. The right wage is not the lowest sum a man will work for. The right price is the lowest price an article can steadily be sold for. The right wage is the highest wage the employer can steadily pay. That is where the ingenuity of the employer comes In. He lias 1 to create customers, and if he is making a commodity, then his own workers are among his best customers. It is true that petty business can work on the capftal-labour-public mistake, but big business cannot, nor can little business grow big on the theory that It can grind down its employees. The plain fact is that the public which buys from you does not come from nowhere. The owner, the employees, and the buying public are all one and the same, and unless an industry can so manage itself as to keep wages high and prices low, it destroys itself, for otherwise it limits the number of its customers. High wages cannot be paid to anyone just for the asking If wages are raised without lowering costs, then buying power is not enlarged. There is no ‘living wage,’ for, unless an equivalent in work is returned, no wages can be high enough for a man to live on them. And also there can be no ‘standard’ wage. No one on this earth knows enough to fix a standard wage. The very Idea of a standard wage presupposes that invention and management have reached their limit. No greate» injury can be done to a man than to pay him a high wage for a small amount of work, for then his high wage increases the prices of commodities and puts them beyond his reach. Also it is untrue to say that profits or the benefit of inventions which bring lower costs belong to the worker That grows out of another misconception of the industrial process. Profits belong primarily to the business, and the workers are only a part of the business. If all the profits were given to the workers, then Improvements, such as hereafter will be described, would not be possible. Prices would . increase, and consumption would decline, and the business would gradually go out of existence. The profits have to go towards making lower . costs, and the advantage of lower costs must in a large measure be given to the consumer. This, in effect, is the same as raising wages. Here is another arresting passage:— The theory that efficiency and better methods make for unemployment is pernicious, but it is widespread. It is widespread because so many men make their livings out of preaching it to workmen. It all goes on the theory that there is only so much work in the world to do and it must be strung out The professional agitators insi.st that efficiency makes less work, fewer jobs, and decreases employment. They say that where two men conduct a process that formerly used eight, six men are thus left without work. The fallacy of this has been proved over and over again, and nowhere more effectively than in our own industries. Take England at the present time. Hand-in-hand with unemployment goes the preaching of the make-work theory The British bricklayer, with kind intent towards his fellow-brieklayer who is out of a job, is easily persuaded that if he will only lay half the number of bricks that he formerly laid the bosses will have to hire his out-of-work friend to lay the other half. That is, he thinks he is creating two jobs where only one existed before, and so decreasing the evils of unemployment. But he does not make a job. He only increases unemployment by making bricklaying so expensive that few can afford to build houses. Instead of making a job for his friend, he more than likely loses his own job through “slackness in the building trade.” Though England cries for houses, few houses go up. Workingmen’s houses do not go up at all, the reason being that bricklayers will not lay bricks enough to make an hone3t day’s work, and thus double costs are imposed upon a house, with the result that the working man who should Inhabit it with his family cannot afford to. Holding back in any service decreases opportunity. The way of the English bricklayer to make work lot all his fellows in the trade is to do so much work in a day that house-building will be cheap—and since the country needs cheap housing, bricklayers will be needed. Some of the very striking opinions of Mr Ford and his collaborator follow: The idea that business exists to make profits is wrong. The idea that a business should be run for those engaged in it is wrong. A business is made by the public, and the public should share in its success—not by way of dividends, but by a reduction in the price of the article produced. That price-reduction should not be made by selling an inferior article: the article must be produced at a smaller cost. The profl; motive, although It Is supposed to be hardheaded and practical, is really not practical at all, because it has as Its objectives the increasing of prices to the consumer and the decreasing of' wages, and therefore it constantly narrows Its markets and event* ually strangles itself, . One hears a deal about the worker being ground down by hard labour, of what is called progress being made at the .expense, of something or other, and that efficiency is wrecking all the finer things of life. It is quite true that life is out of balance—and always has been. Until lately, most people have had no leisure to use, and, of course, they do not know how to use it. Efficiency is merely the doing of work In the best way you know, rather than the worst way. It is the taking of a trunk up hill on a truck rather than on one’s back. .... Tbe Chinese coolie, working through long hours for a few cents a day. is not happier than the American workman with his own home and automobile. The one Is a slave, the other is a free man It will be gathered from these extraets that this book compels attention. Mr Ford lias achieved success by following certain lines. How far his principles cas be universally applied is a matter f6r the future, Bui in ithe meantime his book raises big issues which in the nature of things must be faced*

LAST WORDS OF ANATOLE FRANCE. “Fader the Rose.” By Anatolc France. Arranged and annotated by Michel Corday. Authorised translation by J. Lew’is May. (Cloth, 7s 6d not.) London: John Lane (the Bodley Head, Limited). In a note to the reader introducing these last words Michel Corday explains that it was his aim to show, in the light of the unfinished work left by the great French master, ‘‘how conscientiously he laboured up to the very end*of his life, how scrupulously he consulted his authorities, how abundantly he read, and how carefully lie composed, often drafting and redrafting the outline of his work as many as eight times.” These last words are incomplete, but they are provocative words, and controversy long and perchance bitter will wage round some of the views expressed. A statement of tho contents is sufficient to foretell this, for there are dialogues on metaphysics ami the existence of God, on old age, concerning the future, on sex modesty, concerning war, concerning the dialogues on astronomy, and several other topics. They are also arresting words, for Anatole France was a writer of great power, who wrote with an impressiveness which singled him out from liis contemporaries. Moreover, he was a transparently honest craftsman, and even when one heartily disagrees with his conclusions, ami is wholly at variance with him one cannot but admire the courage and originality displayed in the presentation of his views on life. He wrote on the intimate things which touch the heart and mould the character of meu and women, and in this book there is much which will stimulate the thought of earnest people. It is unnecessary to say that his admirers will welcome it as last words are invariably welcomed by the faithfuL And in this volume there is ample to fan the flames of controversy, to which M. Corday contributes his quota: “Anatole France has,” he says, “often been represented as a sceptic, a dilletantc, .a mere ‘player on the flute/ All the facts with which I have illustrated these final pages, however, demonstrate the firmness and continuity of liis convictions. I could, therefore, hardly conclude my task more fittingly than by protesting with all my heart against these depreciatory judgments.” Following a reference to some critics of the master M. Corday breaks this lance:— I am not going to dwell upon their books, all of which are mingled, in my memory, in one welter of profound disgust. Nor will I harp on the many painful and sacrilegious indiscretions of the ‘peepers and botanisers, who respected no sorrow and revered no sanctity, who repeated all the contemptible gossip that they could drink in, in little shop parlours where mean and insatiable jealousies prey on filth and garbage, where Pes abound and multiply and go on flourishing, till one day, when they least expect, they get their quietus. The chapter entitled “The Dialogue Concerning War” is a notable contribution to the history of the Great War, and will be read with wide interest. This volume is uniform with the library edition of the w’orks of Anatole France, produced so tastefully by the Bodley Head, Limited. A LEADING WOMAN NOVELIST. “The Celebrity’s Daughter,” “The Last Ditch,” “ The Doll,” “ Their Hearts.” By Violet Hunt. (Each cloth, 3s 6d net.) London: Stanley Paul.

These four stories by a brilliant contemporary woman novelist are now issued a a popular price by Messrs Stanley Paul and Co. In compliment to the authoress the volumes appear in violetcoloured wrappers, appropriately illustrated. Miss Violet Hunt is a novelist of high repute in the literary world, but is little appreciated by, or indeed known to, the great mass of the fiction-reading public, whose favour probably she has no desire to win. Her .want of mass popularity is not accounted for by anything recondite or “ highbrow ” about her substance or style; she deals w T ith ordinary things and people in a particularly lively style. But she is not sensational; and she is wholly unsentimental. It is her total absence of sentimentality that most prejudices her with the great novel-reading public. And she is not only unsentimental; she lacks geniality and humanity. Her novels are cynical; and not many people can long endure an atmosphere of cynicism. There is a hard, metallic brilliance about them. Her descriptions and characterisations are graphic and vivid, permeated with satire and irony; she is witty, penetrating, and pungent. Literary critics unite m praising the cleverness of her books. Mr Gerald Gould, in liis illuminative little study of- contemporary fiction entitled “ The English Novel of To-day,” alludes to “ the strange genius of Violet Hunt,” whose works, however, do not come within the scope of his examination* Miss May Sinclair, herself a brilliant novelist more widely known than Miss Hunt, says of the works of her younger rival: “They will appeal by their sincerity, their unhesitating courage, their incorruptible reality.” Perhaps the story of the three sisters in “ Their Hearts ” is the most poignantly interesting of the life pictures given in the four l>oo.ks now republished. “ The Last Ditch,” a story of the war period, is remarkable for its variety of graphic character portraits.- “ The Doll” and “The Celebrity’s Daughter” are prewar society novels, first published in HJU and 1912 respectively. A sketch of the opening of the latter novel will illustrate Miss Hunt's cynical tone* The story is told in the first person by the 18-year-old heroine, who counts on her

beauty to get her out of Bohemianism into fashionable society. She is the younger daughter of a lately celebrated artist who has lost vogue. Some years before the story begins lie ran away*with a married society woman, Lady Scilly. His wife is now a popular celebrity, having come out with great success as a variety actress. She is earning high pay, and makes her derelict husband a weekly allowance. This the heroine regularly takes to “ George,” as she calls her father, meeting him in Kensington Gardens. The mother refuses to divorce “ George,” not that she still loves him, comments the daughter; she never loved anybody, not even herself, but she won’t give up her property to another woman. She is bitter, and enjoys humiliating him and making their daughter the agent of her revenge —which does not work satisfactorily for her, as the two enjoy each other’s company so much. SUPPRESSION AND REVOLT. “The Blue Castle.” By L. M. . lontgomerv. (Cloth, (55.) Australia: Cornstalk Publishing Company. Per Angus and Robertson, Sydney. L. M. Montgomery is well known as the authoress of “Anne of Green Gables” and other pleasant girls’ books. The present one is meant for parents and elder brothers and sisters. It would seem that up to a comparatively recent period the life of an unmarried girl in America might be as circumscribed by convention and domestic tyranny as in early Victorian England. At the opening of the story of Valancy Stirling (“Doss” to her family circle) lias long been relegated by the people of the country town of Deerwood to hopeless old maidenlwod. Her life with an autocratic mother and an unpleasant elderly female cousin is dreary beyond description, everything within and without the house is ugly and depressing, one day after another drags out in the performance of the same round of petty meaningless tasks. Since early childhood Yalaney’s only way of escape has been by dreamland. She built a “blue castle” for herself, and furnished and peopled it after her own heart. One feels inclined to say that a girl who up to nearly 30 years df age would submit to being ruled like a nursery child did not deserve much pity, though to be sure Valancy suffered under the handicap of physical delicacy which would render it more difficult for her to leave home and earn her living. But fear of forfeiting her claim to family inheritance seems also to have been a factor in her submissiveness. But on her 29th birthday, Valancy, owing to some unpleasant heart attacks of which she has said nothing to her relatives, goes to consult a doctor, and liis diagnosis (a written one) tells her that she cannot live more than a year. Valancy determines that she will taste something of the good of life before she must die, and favouring circumstance opens up the way to romance and happiness. She leaves home and defies the conventions innocently and in the service of others. And her unconventional position bripgs her into touch with her favourite author, who had inspired her to defy fear, though naturally she does not for long suspect the identity of the ostensible tramp, Barney Snaith, and the successful author, John Foster, who, to be sure that she carries him for love, conceals his position and his inherited millions. The story is not strong in reality, but the narrative of the woodland life of Valancy and Barney on a sequestered island in a northern lake has liveliness and sentimental quality that ensure popularity. Some artfully introduced obstacles to the happiness of Valancy and Barney are overcome, and (as the reader will no doubt have inferred from the first) the medical verdict of death proves to have been given in mistake. It had stung Valancy into new’ life. STEWARD ALIAB ACTOR. “South Sea Salvage.” By Ernest Osborne. (Paper boards, Is net). Sydney: Bookstall Company, Limited. Mr Lionel Harcourt, actor, is enticed on beard the good ship Ishmaelite, where, to his horror and disgust, he finds that, owing to there being a shortage of men in the crew, he is treated not # as an honoured guest, but as a steward, who has to work for hia living. No protests on his part have any avail, and, under strongcharactered Captain Kelvin, he has to make the best of a bad job. One day the boat conics across a part of a wreck, clinging to which is an exhausted girl. She is rescued, revived, and found to be Ethel Cairns, the actress, who. strange to say, is Harcourt’s fiancee. There is now a battle-royal between the weak and puerile Harcourt, who insists that Ethel keep to her promise to mArry him, and Captain Kelvin, who foresees that such a match wonld be fatal to Ethel’s happiness. ( Whal befalls on a treasure island, and

how the battle ends, will rhake this little paper-oovered book very popular with tlmae who are fond of healthy tales of the sea. A MUSICAL MELODRAMA. “riie Mad Song.” By Mabel Wagnalla. (Cloth, 2 dollars net.) New’ York and London: Funk and Wagnails Company; per Dymock’s Book Arcade, Sydney. The “mad song” of the story is the famous soprano song of the mad Ophelia in the opera “Hamlet,” which is sung by the heroine in a critical juncture to determine a question of identity. The story is under the usual length, and the authoress, who takes herself very seriously, explains in a fairly long preface that this is in accordance with her convictions of the requirements of modern life, with its multiple claims on time and mental attentions. She pleads for the “short novel of high purpose and good art” as distinct from the short story. Whether or not the present story should draw on her the woe she imprecates on the author “who frivols another’s time” may be left for readers to decide. There is a great deal of sentimental rhapsodising about music, and the plot is full of preposterous absurdities. The heroine, Katelka, is one of twin sisters closely alike in personal appearance. Their father, a Russian aristocrat, devoted liis life to music, fell in love with and married a safe singer, and a year later was left a widower with two infant daughters, whom lie cared for himself. Before they could talk the children gave evidence of musical faculty, and the father reared them to be musical prodigies. But he was a merciless taskmaster, and Karina, possessor of *a matchless voice, broke aw T ay in early girlhood, and disappeared, leaving Katelka, who plays the piano matchlessly, to fulfil her father's dreams. Ou his death she leaves the old family mansion at Kief, and goes to Milan, where the main events of the story are enacted in a period of a few days. Katelka is patronised by a wealthy American lady, who has a great opinion of her one ability as a musical composer, and employs as musical secretary a young man of half-English half-Italian parentage, who falls in love with Katelka. Karina, whom Katelka had traced and w’ritten to, joins her sister, and tells the tragical history of her marriage, and the fearful death of her husband in Siberia. She goes to the reception of Katelka’s patroness as substitute for her sister, who is prostrated with a headache, and astonishes everyone by her singing. But amongst the company she meets Count Domar, the man who sent her husband to his doom, and she contrives to put in his wine the poison she always carries with her. She evades capture, disappears, and Katelka is arrested in her stead. No one in Milan has seen the two sisters together, and it is assumed that the existence of the second sister is an invention of Katelka’s. Owing to the efforts of Paul, Katelka’s lover, a musical audition is arranged; Katelka is to demonstrate her instrumental powers, it being apparently axiomatic to those of musical culture that the same person cannot simultaneously excel in two such exacting arts as music and song. We are given to understand that the legal authorities of Milan are satisfied to let the question of identity be determined solely by this musical test, without making any effort to find out whether there was another Donimirski daughter. Katelka satisfies the test triumphantly, and is released, only to be horrified by seeing her lover immediately arrested! So to save him she determines to prove that it was she who sang at the reception, and poisoned Count Domar. Being allowed another musical trial she, who previously had not been able to sing even moderately well, sings the “mad song” as her sister had sung it. “She sang. In portamentos her opalescent tone curved across abyssmal intervals like a bow of promise arching the firmament. . . She ended the aria with one upsweeping chromatic scale that sent her voice flaming skyward on—on past the arctic limits of high C—past the dim regions of high 1) —on it soared and poised at last, firm in its place, a dear pale gein in the heavens, high E! There it lingered like some new created wonder swung in the orbit of God's glinting mysteries. It gradually waned into silence, and with the passing of that glowing tone there passed away forever the singing of Karinfl Donimirsha.” Not, however, we hasten to add, because she suffered a murderer’s doom. Her guilt was regarded as proved, but the finding of the body of her drowned sister gavo her back to the world and to new happiness. LIGHT-HEARTED FANTASY, “The Stolen March.” By Dornford Yates. (Cloth, 7s (hi net.)' London and Melbourne: Ward, Lock, and Company. In “The Stolen March” Mr Dornford Yates quits the world of reality, and

writes in bis accustomed vivacious style of the adventures of two pairs of young people in an original variety of fairyland «—the lost country, “Etchechuria,” which only a few favoured denizens of the outer world succeed in finding. Simon and Patricia Beaulieu, six months married, arc handsome and endowed with all qualities befitting the hero and heroine of a modern romance. Simon, convalescing from typhoid fever, is medically recommended to take a long open-air holiday in southern Europe, and is put in possession of a high-class motor caravan, with chauffeur attached. The young couple set their hearts on exploring “Etchechuria,” of which country Patricia has heard attractive tales. Etchechuria, it seems, was once an actually existing country between France and Spain, but it has disappeared from the map and from ordinary experience. The prosaic explanation of its disappearance is that it has simply been annexed and absorbed by its two big neighbours. But for a good many miles of mountainous frontier, survey measurements by French and Spanish surveyors fail to tally with one another, and vague stories point to the existence of a no man’s land screened from casual intruders. One day, while leisurely travelling in southern France, Simon and Patricia encounter a beautiful girl speeding along in a powerful motor car, and a favouring accident leads to her throwing in her lot with them. She explains that she is a professional thief. She has been brought up as a member of a higlily-expert gang, and for her professional honesty she is known to her confreres as “the Bank of England.” She is readily persuaded to abandon thieving for Etchechuria, aud a lover is soon provided for her in the person of Pomfret Tudor, an architectural archaeologist weary of the trivialities of his work and of publicity. Bow the quartet gain entry into Etchechuria, and hoy they fare there must be left for the reader ho discover. Suffice it to say, that they find a land where the sheerest impossibilities -and the wildest nonsense of the outer world are matters of fact. One of the first things that startles them is the development of power of speech by their two mules, Ballaam and Balak, who talk racy, slangy English. Incidentally everyone else in Etchechuria talks English, but we know that the question of diversity of tongue never presents any difficulty to the romancer. There is a whimsical little tyrant of a king, who maintains mediaeval state, .with a court jester, a dwarf, and other traditional court figures of new and fantastic variety. When the quartet finally return to the outer world they bring with them the philosopher's stone. Simon demonstrates its power to high officials, aud it is determined to consign to ocean depths the fatal transmuter which would reduce the world to financial chaos a million times worse than was anywhere caused through the war. But before disappearing it has made Simon sufficiently rich. INTRIGUE IN WEST AFRICA. “The Bush King.” By Paul Trent. (Cloth, 7s 6d net.) London and Melbourne: Ward, Lock, and Company. This is a straightforward talc of odventrue and commercial rivalry and intrigue in West Africa, with an agreeable and not too sentimental love story interwoven. The first chapter tells of the decision of young Ivo Dane to return to West Africa, where he has already spent some time as assistant to a district commissioner, and in his absence enjoyed the delights of authorit3 r . He and a cousin, Julius Boal, have both been brought up by their uncle, • a banker, but the two youug men arc antipathetic to one other. The uncle is anxious about the value of a concession granted by a petty native ruler to an Englishman named Grove (w’ho proves to be a fraudulent adventurer) on the security of which the bank has advanced a large sum of money. Ivo and Groves go out to West Africa together, and on the same ship is the heroine, daughter of the Governor of the colony. Ivo had made a good impression on June Clifton on their first meeting under critical circumstances in London, but contrives to efface it during the passage out. On investigation after arrival Ivo finds that the concession is a fraud, and sets to work to obtain a valid one. This brings him into collision with French interests, and threatens international complications. Two petty native kings play a promin nt part in the story, one a cruel savage, and hostile; wdiilc the other is friendly to the British. Ivo falls into the hands oir the former, but is rescued from a cruel fate by an attractive native girl. After many complications and a variety of stirring incidents Ivo is successful, and the story ends in the popular way. PUBLICATIONS RECEIVE'?. Particulars have been sent to us of the recently published “ Trade Map of the World,” edited by Mr Ben H. Morgan, F.R.G.B. The aim of the map is to supply business men with a real aid to the control and expansion of their trade relations with overseas markets by giving them in concise and graphic form accurate, detailed information as to where the world’s primary products arc produced, and the best means of access to the world’s markets, especially those of the British Empire. # * » Everylady’s Journal for September is a magazine which we have no hesitation in recoin mending to all women. It is fresh, vivacious, and up to date, and its contents make a large appeal to intelligence. Of note among its articles are r “In Quest of Beauty,” or “ Miss Australia Goes to Meet Miss America”; “ Marriage as a Job,” and 44 The Ladder of Fame: How Great Stars Climb It.”

Lucie Winn, who lias written several stories to the Otago Wituess, contributes a pleasing short story, and another chapter of “ Who Rideth Alone,” the interesting serial, is given. The “ home ” sections deal with literature, fashions, faneywork (especially applique), cooking, beauty culture, and humour. # * * In the September issue of Life begins 44 Mrs Battle,” the first of a new series of stories by Booth Tarkington, the wellknown author. 44 Common Ground ” is the first of a cluster of dramatic and powerful tales by Gerald Beaumont, and “Belzebuth,” by Captain P. C. Wren, adds another to a list of Foreign Legion episodes. Besides these there are “ The Road to Paradise,” a tale of love and hatred on a tropic isle by Dale Collins; “Thin Ice,” which tells of skates and scheming by William Westrup; “The Man Who Could Not Weep,” by Judge Beeby; and others by Rita Weiman and Edgffr Wallace. Special articles in the issue are “ Champions and Their Secrets,” “ The Mystery of Dreams,” “Dodging Death on Wires,” “Greatness in Slippers,” and “ A Bellbuoy on the Reef.” * * * The Strand Magazine for August contains a variety of first-class short stories by prominent writers. “ A Drama Unrehearsed,” by F. Britten Austin, is a stirring tale of the secret history of a beautiful woman who, because of certain revelations, is forced to take the veil. “ The Hotel Game ” is a cheerful tale by Denis Mackail, and for a good laugh it would be hard to find anything funnier than P. G. Wodehouse’s 44 A Slice of Life,” dealing with comedy in the butler’s pantry. Stacy Aumonier, Beatrice Redpatli, Albert Kinross, Arnold Bennett, and Mrs Belloc Lowndes ajso contribute fiction. Among the collection of interesting articles in the issue mention may be made of “Fun and Humour in Animals,” 44 Humours of the Australian Law r Courts,” “ Miss Helen Wills as an Artist,” and “Days of My Life,” the last the fifth in a series by H. Rider Haggard. • • • We are in receipt of a copy of Empire Fellowship, the quarterly publication of the Fellowship of the British Empire Exhibition. It opens with two pages of pictures of her Majesty, Queen and mother, and follows witli a description of industrial welfare, the Duke of York’s work. The personal message from the Duke, and the article on Empire migration by the Right Hon. L. S. Amery, are two of the finest things in the issue. “ Nothing is more important to the security and prosperity of the Empire than the keeping of a high standard of industrial welfare,” says the message. “ Healthy and happy conditions of work promote better production and better citizenship. I am pleased to know that the Fellowship of the'British Empire links up with its campaign for Empire trade and for the better distribution of the Empire’s population, the promotion of industrial welfare movements.” “ Youth and the Empire,” “ Banishment,” by Sir Robert BadenPowell, Bart.; “Rubber and the Empire,” “ Empire Trade and Production,” “ The Future of Coal,” “ Music and the Empire,” “ Fellowship: Wliat Is It? and “ First Impressions of England ” form the articles in the generous table of contents, while “The Houses: A Song of the Dominions ” is a splendid new poem by Rudyard Kipling. The whole publication is illustrated, and ujfliolds well the aim 6 which promoted it.