NEW BOOKS AND PUBLICATIONS.

Press, Volume LX, Issue 11508, 14 February 1903, Page 8

NEW BOOKS AND PUBLICATIONS.

We have already referred in our leading columns to "The Story of Mary Mac Lane, by Herself." The book is now out in one of the colonial editions, and will no doubt find many readers, who may be excused if they are puzzled to know whether it ie a joke or whether the author -ie insane or merely an erratic genius. As we explained on a previous occasion, Mary Mac Lane has apparently set herself to copy Marie Baehkirteeff, of whom she is a great admirer, but in her eelf-revelation and frank egotism she far exceeds her exemplar. . This American girl of nineteen asserts an 'her opening sentence that the world contains no parallel for her, and we are quite willing to agree that in some respects this is probably time. It is at least difficult to imagine any other VOUS.J lady writing so openly, and with such detail, of" "her internal organs and of the process of her digestion. Somebody, once »said that there was no conversation nowadays; its place had been taken by the exchange of confidences as to the state of one's liver. Miss Mac Lane is not satisfied , with dinner-table confidences on this subject, but ta.ks to the whole world with a freedom which is almost embarrassing. Her candour permits her to criticise her parents, who, ehe says, are nothing to her, while in one passage she compares her mother with a hen. Ihe burden of (her complaint is that she is not understood, which is not surprising, and that she is lonely and weary, and mingled with her moans are some of the strangest bita of self-revelation that have ever seen print. If it were not (for her repeated assurances as to the healUhy condition of her liver, one would be tempted to prescribe medicine for so unwholesome a state of mind- London, Grant Richards; Christchurch, Whitcombe and Tombs; 2s 6d and 3s 6d. A far pleasanter book for an idle half hour is lan McLaren's "His Majesty Baby, and Some Common People," a series of short sketches, a, number of which have already been pub'.i&hed in our columns. Of these, "News of a Famous Victory," describing ihow the writer and an enthusiastic cabman carried the first tidings of the relief of Ladysmith through piu'fc of London, as probably the beet-r«n«mbered, and it still serves to revive memories of that great day when the British character for reserve and self-re-straint received its deathblow. "A Modest Spholar" is a quaint sketch of a most lovable great man, while "Our Boy" will appeal to all fat hens and mothers for its painful accuracy in describing the habits of the creature who, as Dr. WaUton says, is a race by himself. "A cab is passing at this moment with four boys, who have invited two friends to join them, and it is raining heavily. Two boys are, on the box-eeat with the driver, and have thoughtfully left their topcoats inside in case they might get spoiled. There is a boy with his head out at either window addressing opprobrious remarks to .those on t)he box-seat, for which insults one of them has just lost his lap, and the other two are fighting furiously in the bottom of the cab, and wH come out on abject spectacle. For you may train a dog to walk on its hindlcgs,. and you may tame a tiger, but you cannot take the boynees out of a ' boy." The book contains a number of Scottish sketches, in one of which the delight of a congregation in the prolonged process of electing a new minister is amusingly described, while one or two of the others are full of pathos. London, Hodder and Stoughton; Christehurch, Whitcombe and Tombs: 3s 6d. . "In the Springtime of Love," by Iza Duffus Hardy, is a pleasantly written story, of no great but likely to prove agreeable especially to girlish readers. The two heroines are ideals of beauty and luxury, "robed in the latest creation on every occasion, and behaving with the utmost pro- : priety, however Fate may wring their tender I hearts. Both ihave to suffer much from the difficulty that the lover of one ie not euro whether he is not married already, while the lover of the second hag to be proved not the person ehe is really engaged to at all. Out of mistaken identities ana previous entanglements, there is worked up a fair plot, and the book comes to a rather original and satisfactory ending. London, Arthur Pearson and Co.; Christchurch, Whitcombe and Tombs; 2s*6d and 3s 6d'. There should be a literary Act forbidding the use of an attractive 'heading for bad work. Mise Helen Mathers, in "Honey," has nothing to reward any seeker beyond her pretty title. The subject of the book is chiefly disagreeable—its best passages are the quotations which certainly would read much better in their proper setting—and even the best written chapters deal with situations too unpleasant for romance. London, Methuen and Co.; Christchurch, Whitoombe and Tombs; 2s 6d and 3e 6d. Miss Elizabeth L. Banks is no stranger to the British public. Fame came to her years ago When "in cap and apron" ehe, a freeborn American newspaper girl, masqueraded as a domestic servant in various staid British homes, and then published her experiences. The "why and wherefore" of that escapade will be found, along with many other entertaining incident* in her latest book, "The Autobiography of a 'Newspaper Girl, , " on* of the best of the few good books that hnve been written on newspaper life. Miss Banks graduated as a society reporter on the "Daily Hustler," published in a western city, and she has a warm place in her heart, for the staff of that paper, though her first acquaintance with them was rather unfavourable. She had to describe balls and dances, and it was often after midnight before she got back to the office to write up her notes. The first time this occurred s-he overheard the reporters and the city editor discussing 'how she was to get home. "All right," said a voice, whose owner had just been told lie would have to see her heme, "But I tell you what. It's an all-fired shame for girls to be working in newspaper offices at night, and I don't care how nice they are as girls, they r<? nothing but nuisances in a place like this at midnight. While I'm walking home with her I'll just ask the young lady to marry me', and ■that'll pub an' end to &U our troubles!" Miss Banks waited to hear no more, but fled alone into the midnight etreeb, where panic coon seized her Fol.oxvmg footsteps -still further terrified her ! until they proved t0 belon g to a policeman, I who had thought be was chasing a criminal He escorted her to the end of his beat, and then handed her over to another officer, so in time, passed from one to another she reached home safely, to find the editor on the doorstep, fearing that she had come to barm, and drscribing the tumult in the reporters , room when it was found she had gone home alone. After that, night after night -\li*i Hanks* friends, the poiioemen, escorted her home, and she managed the rejection i •?? ° ffer , of marriage from the first one so skilfully that he remained her friend and champion. Miss Banks writes fluently and amusingly, and her adventures in the newspaper worlds of Locdon and New York are full of interest. She was highly successful, and earned a good income but spent it as a rule rather faster than she earned it, and some of her most brilliant "coups 1, were the result of pressing necessity. Although she worked on one of New York's "yellow journals," she maintained a high ideal of her profession. Her autobiography i 8 certainly a book to read. London, Methuen and Co • Cbristchurch, Whitcombe and Tombs- 2s 6d and 3s 6d. '