The Bookshelf.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVI, Issue 13, 29 March 1911, Page 45

The Bookshelf.

By

DELTA.

BOOKSHELF feuilleton. 'A Fine Book of Personal Travel, That Should Be of Special Interest to New Zealanders. EEKLY ' GRAPHIC” readers ■■ I will remember the splendidIljL ly illustrated record of personal travel entitled “Golden Days in Many Lands” which ran serially through that journal some Jime ago. It has now been issued in a colonial edition at 7s 6d, which is just half its English cost. It is a large, jjiandsome volume, and is substantially and attractively bound in cloth, with titles in gold; is beautifully printed on fine paper, in clear, open type, is also fully indexed, and has 360 pages It contains Ho fewer than forty-three illustrations, from photographs taken by the author, Miss Winifred Leys, the finest ever published of the people and lands described. It is an itinerary of travel that will be found invaluable to the intending traveller, and instructively interesting and entertaining to the stay-at-home. The route travelled, embraced both West and East, and all that is most historically interesting, most wonderful, or most beautiful, most picturesque, most charming, or most amusing in the people, countries, or things described by the way. is set down with accuracy, and a great charm of style. In Short, “Golden Days in Many Lands,” is a book that should be found on the bookshelf of every reader who wishes to become familiar with, or refresh his mem)ory of, or to possess a momento of the people, places and things depicted in this book, which can be obtained at the Brett Publishing Co., or Wildman and Arey’s. Methuen’s are the book’s publishers and are to be highly congratulated on the handsome appearance of the volume as a whole.

A Purposeful Anglican Organ. We have received from the Council Of the Layman’s League, the March number of the official organ of that body, /which is known as the New Zealand (Churchman. The avowed objects of this "‘League” are to defend the Rights of the Laity against a too elaborate ritual, to maintain their right to assist in .Church government according to the laws laid down for the laity, to educate churchmen as to what overlaps lawful iritual, and to make known to churchmen the most effective method of ensuring the efficiency of the corrective policy of the League. A large order, but a commendable one we venture to say. "Among the contents of this number is an admirable leader concerning the new Bishop of the Diocese. Space forbids its inclusion, but we like both its matter, and the spirit in which it is couched. As its avowed purpose is to promote and foster the growth of Evangelicalism in the Church of New Zealand, its matter is devoted to that purpose »So that it comprises itself into a summary of what the Anglican Church is doing at “Home” and abroad, in the way of keeping that Church purely Evangelical and exposing those of her backsliders who, contrary to Anglican law, have turned their face Homewards. So long as the New Zealand Churchman maintains its present (temperate tone, and so long as its purpose remains single, so long will it maintain its present influence for good among Churchmen that count. An Interesting Foster-Fraser Letter. Mr. Foster Fraser seems to have taken very hardly the Australian strictures on his Australian book, judging by the following letter received by Mr. Champion Of the Melbourne “Book Lover.” Here it is, and below it arc the genial reviewer’s comments:— “I have been eamel-oaravanning down in Southern Algeria and now I am tackling several boxes of correspondence and newspapers I hope it is not too late to /thank you for the very nice things you Bay about my ‘Australia.’ Some other Australian writers have not been so kindly. They remind me of the art critic of ‘The Tailor’ in this country, who each year visits the Royal Academy and demonstrates what fools these portrait

painters be, for there are four buttons on Mr. Thingamy’s coat and only three button holes, that somebody else had no seams in his trousers, whilst the coat and the sleeve in another’s picture is shown in one piece; so it is very bad art—from the tailor’s point of view. I am too old a hand at writing not to understand quite well that the tailorjournalistic critic will easily find mistakes. But the question that lam really concerned about is whether the whole picture is a good likeness? Alas, my dear Champion, I am afraid that there is something feminine about you Australians. When you ask for a portrait, it is not a portrait you want but a flattering picture, with the wrinkles painted out, a pretty bow given to the-lip, those creases by the mouth removed, and that wart—which Oliver Cromwell, being a man, insisted on being reproduced—ignored altogether. I had thought that, on the whole, I had done Australia a good turn. My book was my gift to the world in return for all the exquisite kindnesses

the Australians extended to me. But 1 fear me the Australians throw my kindness back at one. Well, well, I don’t complain. It is a misfortune to be ignorant, but it is a tragedy to be ignorant if you are ignorant. What a convulsive eye-opener some complacent Australians ■will receive some of these days! Salaams. I think Mr. Foster Fraser is mistaken. All of us in this country are by no means Australians born. Most of us are, first and last, Englishmen. The criticisms 'ha smarts under are made by the newspapers, which, with a few notable exceptions, pander to the worst side of the noisy, unthinking, spindle-shanked Australian, who has neither knowledge nor manners, nor the faintest description of public spirit. Wait till the inevitable comes, Mr Foster Fraser, when you will see the English people on this huge continent get up and march towards their goal. Temple Thurston's New Novel. Mr. Temple Thurston goes on from strength to strength in each new output. His latest book, “The Patchwork Papers,” is a collection of short stories, twenty-four of them, the majority of which have appeared in the daily press. They are all well worth reading, as without exception all the work of this; Author has ever been. No more oOn-

vincing proof of this novelist’s merit can be adduced than that which lies in the fact that "The City of Broutiful Nonsense” is in its twenty-fifth edition, and the inimitable “Greatest Wish in the World” is already iu its eighteenth. Two Books Worth Reading. Two new novels, which provide superlative reading, are “The Man,” by Bram Stoker, a novel of characterisation and exciting adventure, and “The Mountain of God,” by the popular author of “The Veil.” Those readers who remember that superbly written book will be delighted to hear that the scenes of tins new book are laid in that Eist, which, in the depiction of this writer, has absolutely no rival. As we have only just received the book through Wildman and Arey, we are not in a position to give a comprehensive forecast of the book, but the Levant is the locale of the book’s various scenes. The illustrations of the story are exquisitely done. Mr. Moor's Memories of Stevenson in Samoa. “Many a day and many a night did Stevenson spend with me. Time and again, when he felt played out and written out, when inertia or despondency seized him, he would come down to be

cheered up. Sometimes he was pretty hopeless— ‘all done for.’ But, as a rule, it was nothing more than brain weariness, and he only required a rest to put him right again, a change of atmosphere and surroundings. After a short trip away’ he always came back benefited. I fancy the women folk were given to coddling him too much at home, and too much of this is good for neither man nor beast. “Though he would come to me full of all sorts of troubles ho rarely uttered a word of complaint concerning his bodily ailments; indeed, for a man who suffered so much he was one of the most resigned and uncomplaining men I ever met. His fortitude in this respect was one of the distinguishing characteristics of the man. But in other matters he was easily upset, and I have seen him get into a rage over the most trivial thing. I have likewise seen him engrossed in trifling subjects; and I have known him to use his best energies to assist a friend in some small matter in which he had little or no real concern.” Was Stevenson a Believer in Spiritual Phenomena ’ “Sometimes you would catch him in what was almost a spiritualistic trance, and I really believe there was a good deal of the spiritualistic in Jiis nature. I remember that he used to tell me

some remarkably good ghost stories—short tales that would make one’s flesh creep—ami he declared they were true, or at least he gave them the credit of being authentic. Certainly he believed them himself, ami no jesting remark of mine could shake him in his faith. But I never heard him say he had seen a ghost. Once he informed me that in certain parts of France the people believed there were spirits, or ‘spirit animale,” which accompanied them in their walks. For instance, some who dwelt in those parts believed that just behind them, or at their side, there trotted along ‘spirit wolves’ ; others were attended by ‘spirit dogs,” rnd so convinced were they of it that they fancied they actually heard the supernatural footfalls, and they would cautiously and fearfully glance behind them, as if expecting to see something tangible and animated.

Stevenson's Attitude Towards Religion. “We never discussed the Bible seriously, so far as I recollect. Reverent always, where matters of religion were concerned, Stevenson was not what I regard as a religious man—and this, despite the fact that for a month or two he taught in the Sunday school at Apia. The interest he took in the Sunday school, in my view, was more that of the student of human nature, the psychologist, the writer of stories, than of one -who u*as really ■concerned for the spiritual welfare of his pupils, whether whites or half-castes —for the full blood Samoan children did not come under his purview. Stevenson, though he was more or less a dual personality, was mostly Bohemian; and more than once, to his annoyance, has he been surprised in Bohemia. The Stevenson whom some writers have told us of —the man of morals, the preacher, the maker of prayers —is not the Stevenson I knew. Act it is true that he moralised and preached in his own peculiar way’, and true that he wrote some exquisite prayers. The truth is, there were two Stevensons! And I write of this strange dual personality as I found it, not as revealed through the looking-glass of the man’s books.”

An Interesting Reprint. We who have but lately re-read that fine novel "The Cloister and the Hearth which, next to “Les Miserables,” we look upon as the finest novel in the world, are delighted to insert the following paragraph which we have taken from the “New Zealand Times”: —Many who have read Charles Reade’s splendid historical story, ‘‘The Cloister and the Hearth,' one of the few really great historical novels, may not be aware that the original version of the story was published in 1858 in “Once a Week,” under the title of “A Good Fight,” making thirty-six chapters, the first twenty-six of which appeared in “The Cloister and the Hearth.” “A Good Fight” has now been issued as a separate book by Mr Henry Frowde (in the Oxford Library of Prose and Poetry), the price being half-a-crown. It is prefaced by an introduction by Andrew’ Lang, who, in his role of historical investigator, discusses the parentage of Erasmus, who, it will be remembered, is the son of the hero of “The Cloister and the Hearth.” But I wish it had been possible to reproduce the splendid wood cut illustrations drawn by that master of line, the late Charles Keene, which adorned the story as it appeared in “Once a Week,” for they were exceptionally fine examples of black and white art. A Generous Offer. Messrs Macmillan and Co., have, with characteristic generosity, voluntarily expressed their intention of placing a Dieken’s Memorial Stamp in every book of every edition published by them during the Dicken’s Centenary year. A munificent example Unit we hope will be imitated in all Dickensian publications. For, after all, they are only giving Dickens’ descendants back their own. Never thelesa, the Macmillan firm, in initiating tlfis procedure, deserve the thanks of Dickens* posterity. And we are confident that they have already secured these.. Apropos of Dickens. Since writing bis introductions to tlm various volumes of Dicken’s works that have appeared in “Everyman’s Library,” Mr G. K. Chesterton has discovered a good deal more to say about Dickers, hi; times and characters. Ke has, there:

fore been revising and enlarging his introductions, and'they have been collected and are to be published in a separate volume by Messrs Dent and Son. Mr Chesterton has written two entirely new chapters for this book, one being “An Introduction to Introductions,’’ and . it will contain some hitherto unpublished portraits of Diclicns taken by a friend.

REVIEWS. Tire Lame Englishman : By Warwick Deeping. (London: Cassell and Co. Auckland: Wildman and Arey, 3/6.) Mr. Warwick Deeping’s art has progressed by leaps and bounds since he issued “The Red Saint.” He has, on this occasion, set his scenes in Rome, on the eve of, and during the siege of, that city by the French, and its defence by Garibaldi, and has shown us also the conflict that waged between those two great patriots Mazzini ail Garibaldi, and how their disagreement materially delayed the finish and increased the horrors of that terrible war of Italian independence. Interwoven with the narration of the struggle is the romance of a lame Englishman, one Tom Smith, who at the bidding of a great Roman lady took up arms in the Italian defence, and at once struck a blow for love and liberty. The story ends, as is artistically and morally fitting, on the top note of tragedy. Much sympathy will be felt for both the lovers, but for the sake of the moral they had to die. How they died, and why it was Well that they should die, we do not purpose to divulge, but strongly recommend the lovers of romance to buy the book, and read for themselves. So superbly is the atmosphere of Rome reproduced, and so intimate would the writer’s acquaintance 'with that city seem to be, that for a moment we were tempted into imagining that the mantle of Marion Crawford had fallen upon Mr. Warwick Deeping. But while all the late Marion Crawford’s heroes were by no means Sir Percivale’s, even as Mr. Deeping’s hero is not, we do not remember a “Cesca” in his gallery of heroines. But as we before mentioned, Mr. Deeping has somewhat atoned by making the wages of his sinners, death. And here, so subtle is Mr. Deeping’s art, we shall, we feel, meet with dissentients among lovers of sentiment.

The Diary of a Baby By Barry Pain. (London: Mills and‘ Boon. Auckland: Wildman and Arey, 1/3.) This is an absolute delicious bit of fooling albeit it is absolute realism. The diary begins when -Mr. Pain’s heroine Is a year old, and the epilogue is spoken when “baby” arrives at th£ age of six. Says “baby” on her first birthday:-— “I am one year old to-day. It seems not so long ago that I was a kid in long clothes. T'/.it was a happy thoughtless time. Sleep and eat—eat and sleep —that was life’s simple round. Only a vaccination of a misplaced pin broke the monotony. Time brings more hair, and an occasional tooth, but it brings its responsibilites and disappointments as well.” Baby’s first disappointment seems to have lain in the meanness of its god-father whose presents declined in value in a ratio strongly disapproved of by “it.” Uncle Templeton’s (the baby’s godfather) punishment, though absolutely true to life, seems to us greater than his offence. But that is life. Though Mr. Pain is felicitous throughout, we like him best in that chap*er which details the illness of the baby. Here he shows us how close the sublime lies to the ludicrous. In short it is a “diary” that every parent and god-parent should buy, and keep, and assimilate the moral of.

Knowledge a You 111*; Husband Should Have: By Dr. A. A. Philip and 11. R. Murray. (London: Ewart, Seymour and Co.. Ltd. Auckland: Wildman and Arey.

This little book, whose scope and horizon are clearly indicated by its title, and which we have received through Ewart, Seymour and Co., Ltd., is the premier essay of the “'Sex Know- > ledge Series,” and is said to be, and assuredly commends itself to us as “an honest attempt to set forth that which is conceived to be the truth, and nothing but the truth: And the truth is that man, erring mortal though he be, can and must help himself. He can so order his life, as to procure for himself the greatest of its blessings: health and happiness.” Before crying to God for help, let man remember that very wise saying: "Heaven helps those who help themselves.” When trenching on subjects which society in general regards as taboo, in public, it becomes a matter of extreme difficulty for a writer to 1 dilate on that subject without offending the fastidious or delicate taste of those who think that knowledge of the kind presented in this wortc, snouid be the acquisition of personal private experience. Now, if the evil that arises from ignorance on the points indicates in this book’s pages eould be individu-

ally lighted, there would still be sufficient reason why such ignorance, sbojild no longer wait upon the knowledge born of experience. But when the well-being of countless generations to come, is trembling in the balance, it is absolutely imperative that the begetters of posterity should approach with an open/ and a humble, and a clean mind, the quite natural subjects discussed in this book with a view to rendering future posterity the “fittest.” The almost criminal ignorance that prevails in every rank of society about sex; conditions is absolutely responsible for every physical, mental, and moral ill that befalls humanity. And, therefore, we commend this “Sex Knowledge Series,” which, written in a clean, virile spirit records a brave attempt to help bring about a Te Deum, Laudamus,” as regards life, instead of the present seemingly unending repetition of the dirge "Miserere Domine! Miserere Domine!” that has been dolefully or tragically chanted since the “fall.”

The Woman in the Case : By C. Ranger Gull. (London: Greening and Co. Auckland: Wildman- and Arey, 1/6.)

This novel has been adapted from Mr. Clyde Fitch’s play of the same name, which ran for nearly a year at the Garrick and New Theatres, London, and is to be produced in New Zealand shortly The adaptation is in three parts, each of which, we presume, presents the dialogue and action of the three acts of the play. The first part seems to us to be the strongest, and the most realistic, but there is no mistaking the strength and realism of the scene in which the climax of the plot is readied. The first part of the story, which depicts Julian Rolfe, a successful graduate of great wealth and extremely limited worldly experience, leaving Oxford, to embark, under the tutelage of Phillip Long, a fellow collegian and a vicious worldling, upon the dangerous and questionable pleasure of “ seeing life,” and that life that of the under-world, is the most powerful writing imaginable, so true to life, indeed, in every detail we feel, as to suggest a real experience. But, for the life of us, and in spite of the unmistakable sympathy of the author for the villainous Phillip Long, we can see no excuse for this man, who, an adept in viciousness himself, deliberately lays himself out to corrupt the morals, of adolescence. One of two types Mr. Fitch must have intended Long to be, a Silenus or congenitally un-moral. In .cither case Society is well rid of him before the second act commences. There can, however, be no doubt whatever, as to the intense human interest

w and , the. strong moral this story teaches ’ without preaching?" Vfe'*’strong!/“recommend our readers to buy the book before the play comes along. We have refrained, in justice to the adapter, from giving an extended outline of the plot of “The Woman in the Case.” We shall only add that we have read it twice, and are about to read it again.

BITS FROM THE LATEST BOOKS American Statesmen. “I have always had a poor opinion of American statesmanship. In the United States the grocers are statesmen, the statesmen are grocers.”—Reminiscences, by Goldwin Smith. Edited by Arnold Haultain. Macmillan. 10/ net. A Somnolent Premier. “Lord North, in the House of Commons, felt no shame at giving way to slumber in debate, and when an opponent remarked that ‘even in the midst of these perils the noble lord is asleep,’ ‘I wish (o heaven I was,’ replied with heartfelt fervour.”—The Mother of Parliaments, by Harry Graham.