The Bookshelf.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIV, Issue 15, 13 April 1910, Page 46

The Bookshelf.

By

DELTA.

BOOKSHELF FEUILLETON. ZYX R TOM GALLON'S latest book 111 “The Great Gay Road” ]1 F (Long), though, on the whole, / entertaining, suffers from excessive sentimentalism. It is the story of a humorous adventurer, who poses as the long-lost son of an extremely shorttempered old gentleman, with whose nieee he eventually falls in love. It somewhat resembles Mr leOcke’s “Beloved Vagabond.” But Mr Locke’s vagabond was an artist anil a courtier, and Mr Gallon's is only a vagabond. Nevertheless, Mr. Gallon's book is, as usual, eminontlv readable.

Awaiting review are-. "Charles Dickens,” by Mr G. K. Chesterton (Methuen), and "In the Canariets with a Camera,” by .Margaret d’Este (Methuen), both of which may be obtained at Wildman and Arey’s. An extended peep into Mr Chesterton’s book has delighted us beyond measure, and lias convinced us that not only is Mr Chesterton's heart in the right place, but that it is a very big heart, and that its owner possesses that tine tact and delicate discrimination that is bom of a keen and superlatively sympathetic understanding. No appreciation that has ever been penned of Charles Dickens has moved and satisfied us as this appreciation of Mr Chesterton's, who has caught and imprisoned the spirit of Diekenw between the covers of a work that, while steering clear of personalities unconnected with Dickens literary career, grips with an interest almost painful. Miss d'Este will be remembered as the writer of those charmin'.' records of explorations in Corsica and Majorca, and profusely illustrated, as this book is. The February "Bookman” contains, besides its usual features, a splendid sketch of Mr T. I’. O'Connor, best known as the founder <»f “M.A.P.” and “T.P.’s Weekly.” by Mr Ashley Gibson. Space thj9> \vt ek forbids our giving a synopsis of this article, which is written with an enthusiasm worthy of its subject. Mr John Adcock discourses discursively ami ehMiucntlv on Mr Thomas Hardy’s ‘‘Time’s l. uighing-storks’ ( Macmillan. 4 TA. While not deiiyiim that Mr Hardy has poetic faculty. Mr Adcock deplores its pessimistic, and therefore unideal, quality. . , , , lT<‘r<‘ is a verse which is said to he n condensation of Mr. Hardy’s philosophy and which has been taken from the poem entitled. “Hr Abjures Love”: : “T -peak of one who plums Life's dim profound; Om who at length can sound Clear views and certain - But after love what comes? A scene that lours. A few sad. vacant hours. And then, the curtain.” Imperishable stull, but pessimistic, and of the earth eartiiy. is the sum total of M>-. Adcock’s opinion. Mr. Thomas Scccombe contributes a. scholarly notice of the memorial edition of Meredith, and Mr. Maurice Buxton Forman a review of the Meredith primer, which has been written by Dr. .fames Moffatt, and published by Hodder and Stoughton, at 6 net. Miss Lilian Quillet* Comb writes pleasingly and feelingly on Susan Warner, author of that ideal book for girls, “The Wide Wide World.'’ to which she lias been inspired by a perusal of the biography of this author, written by her sister, \nna B. Warner. (G. P. Putnam and Sons.) It is not surprising to hear that “The Wide Wide World” was written under financial strain. -u periiidiice<l by her father’s evident pemhant for law suits. In any case, it is pleasing to know how great a succe«.s the “Wide Wide World” must have been from eveiy point of view. REVIEWS. Happy Hawkins: By Robert Alexander Wilson. (Boston: Small, Maynard ami ( n. Auckland: Wildman and Arey. This is a reallv capital store of the Far Weik and the hero (Happy Hawkin' l )

is its chronicler. “Happy” is a cowboy, employed on the cattle ranch of Cast Steel Judson, who, as the nomenclature given to him throughout his district will indicate, was not very easy to get along with. Cast Steel has a daughter, who is about six years old when “Happy” first comes to the Judson ranch, and the story turns on the fortunes of this child, in which “Happy” takes first hand. Not that Happy marries Judson’s daughter, but she is nearly driven Vo it by the cast steel behaviour of her father. Who she did marry must be discovered by the reader himself. As is fitting in a Far West story, there is plenty of shooting, in which Happy especially distinguishes himself. A chapter that is devoted to the account of how Judson’s ranch was attacked by a gang of desperadoes is very exciting reading, while the

chapter that tells of Happy going out in the world to make a fortune is diverting to the last degree. We like Happy, and we like Barbara Judson, and we are not sure we do not like Cast Steel Judson. despite his cantankerous ways. Indeed. we like Mr. Wason's book altogether. ami confidently recommend it as shrewdly humorous, breezy, whole-ome, exciting, ami wholly absorbing. The Lady of Blossholme: IT. Rider Haggard. (London: Hodder and Stoughton. Auckland: Wildman and Arey. Price, 3/6.) Whatever subject or period Mr. Haggard chooses, or wherever he sets his scenes, he is always eminently readable, and to us a delightful companion in our hours of relaxation. Nevertheless, wo are pleased that this time he his set his scene in England, and the more so since be lias chosen the period of Henry Tudor, from which to draw the strands of this particularly line romance. Those who sigh for the “good old days” would do well to read “ The Lady of Blossholme,” and learn the state of the rural England of that day. In these days of rapid and safe transit, it is dillicidl to realise the dilliculties and the dangers of a journey lasting days in those times, that would be accomplished in an Lour in these. It is also dillicult, in these days of toleration a ml l iberty of action, Vo conceive how iwlesiastical law in those days overrode the civil, even though the

Sovereign had set his seal of approval upon the latter. This is a story that shows liow, temporarily, Henry Tudor’s will was overridden by an abbot of Blossholme, later to be punished by a dispossession of that religious house, in favour of the Lady of Blossholme, who had been cruelly used by the aforementioned abbot. Mr. Haggard has introduced a scene in which the generosity, which was so marked a feature in the Tudor character is markedly displayed. We regret that space forbids a further mention of this book, but we can assure our readers that nothing that Mr. Haggard has ever written will add more to his reputation than this “Lady of Blossholme,” which contains an example of feminine characterisation unequalled in feminine characterisation unequalled by any of Mr. Haggard’s former creations.

The Concentrations of Bee: Lilian Bell. (Boston: L. C. Page and Co. Auckland: Wildman and Arey. Price, 3/6.) Lovers of Lilian Bell’s fascinatingly cute stories, whose scenes arc mostly

Artist’s Wife: “What on earth’s the matter with you, George?” George: “Good heavens, it’s awful! You know the Mayor is coming this Iffiorning to be painted in his robes?’’ Artist’s Wife: “Well?” George: “Well. I've just remembered i lent them to Pinks for his Covent Garden fancy dress costume’”

laid in or on the borders of Upper Bohemia, will find this book better if anything than its predecessors, and, indeed, will renew their acquaintance with some former Bell characters. The heroine of this exceedingly smart series of coups is a former acquaintance, one Bee Lathrop, now an adorable young widow, whose immensely wealthy, bqt miserly, husband has left her dependent upon an equally miserly sister, to whom he has left the bulk of his fortune, and, indeed, all of it that is readily revenue-produc-ing. How Bee plots with the subtlety of a Maccliiavelli, enlisting everyone’s assistance without their being aware of the fact, and how slip eventually cozens her crabbed sister-in-law, by getting her a husband, into giving her a handsome income, makes up a story of overwhelming and highly-diverting interest, which

we can heartily recommend to admirers of light literature.

The Woman in Question: By John Reed Scott. (London: J. B. Lippincott and Co. Melbourne: George Robertson and Co., 107 to 113, Elizar beth-street. Price, 3/6.)

Readers who love a blend in which romance vies with the commonplace, mystery with the too apparent, and comedy with tragedy, cannot do better than invest in this book, which abounds in all these things. But Mr Scott’s characters are invertebrate, which is a condition we wholly abhor. We love a virtuous heroine, we are not sure that we wholly detest a wicked heroine, if she is only wicked enough. And we have, on occasion, found ourselves admiring a villain of the deepest dye. But we have never 'been inveigled into admiring a heroine who could hit a man when he was down, or a villain who did not go the whole hag. Mr Scott’s plot is all right, its action is natural, his situations are dramatic, his denouement in keeping with the book’s general scheme. But his characters are puppets, and the wires that work them are over-slack. Nevertheless, we believe that as a picture of the American social life depicted, that it is a faithful, if an unideal, representation for which the social life of America', which differs essentially from the social life of older countries, is to blame. We are indebted to George Robertson and Co. for our copy of “The Woman in Question.”

Songs of the Happy Isles: By Maud Peacoeke. (Wellington: Whitcombe and Tombs. Auckland: All booksellers. Price 3/6.) Mention has from time to time been made in the columns of the New Zealand Press of Miss Maud Peacoeke, of Auckland, as a poetess of no mean order. We have just received a copy of a collection of he.' poems, entitled "Songs of the Happy Isles,” which, is being issued by Messrs. Whitcombe and Tombs, Wellington. In a brief and modest preface, the authoress hopes that her verses may find appreciation even among true lovers of poetry, and prove an earnest of better' work to follow. The first poem is something of a keynote to the mind in respect to her work. It commences, "I seek the perfect thing,” and concludes—- “ Though I nor win nor wear The peerless gem I sing, In that I fare I seek. Nearer the Perfect Thing.” It is recognised that there is a wide diversity in poets and poetry, as also in the estimation of what constitutes good poetry, some readers even thinking that the best which requires a charge of dynamite to discover the contents. We incline to a definition of poetry as beautiful or heroic conceptions musically and felicitously expressed, which definition fits Miss Peacoeke’s present effort, and if she realises the modest ambition of her preface—of doing better in future—she will have few compeers in the colonies. The boo.c is bound to find its way into every home of refinement, and possesses in a particular measure the qualities sought for in a gift book. The book is neatly and tastefully bound in a stout binding, and the quality of the paper and print leave nothing to be desired. We heartily congratulate Miss Peacoeke on her premier essay, in book form, and cordially wish her “more power to her elbow.”