SOME RECENT FICTION.

Dominion, Volume 8, Issue 2468, 22 May 1915, Page 9

SOME RECENT FICTION.

"CROCER GREATHEART." Mr. Arthur Adams, the clever ex-New Zealander, who-now lives in Sydney, and edits the "Bulletin". Red Page, is scarcely so successful in his latest story, "Grocer Great-heart" _ (John Lano) as he was in the delightfully humorous "Galahad Jones." The hero of Mr. Adams's new story is a grocer who has "done well," as he himself would put it, in a busy Sydney suburb, and, longing for a change of air and scone, takes passage on a steamer bound for tho Far East. Thsrs is a shipwreck, and the survivors land on adesert island, where the strangest things happen, but where the grocer behaves like a man of mettle—which is certainly more than some of his companions do—and finally meets and wins the love of a very pretty woman who makes her appearance —clad in silver tights, if you please—on the back of an elephant. As a matter of fact she is a member of another shipwrecked company, a circus company, but Grocer Greathoart turns out such a consummate brick that the fair lady abjures the glories of the ring for ever, and elects to remain on the island with the romantically minded ex-Woolloomooloo shopkeeper. The grocer undoubtedly suggests memories of that earlier and delightful Romantic, to . whom Mr. Adams introduced us in "Galahad Jones," but ibe scenario of the story is agreeably picturesque, and the experiences met -with by the survivors of the good ship Boomerang are narrated with such an air of realism that ono soon dismisses the idea of any repetition. Quite an out-of-the-w*ay story,* and one which makes vastly amusing reading. "THE THIRTY DAYS." Mr. Hubert Wales, who, once upon a time, astounded and rather scandalised literary circles by one or two decidedly "risky" and "frisky" stories,- -has fallen a victim fo the fascination of the occult. Li his latest novel, "The Thirty Days" (Cassell and Co.; jjer S. and W. Maclay) he recalls memories of Mr. R. S. Hichens's clever but rather weird story, "Flames." It is certainly somewhat of a surprise to the everyday, matfcer-of-fact city man, Mr. Brocklebank, to find his partner, Mr. Reeve, whom he has seen killed in an accident on the Alps, and, Vhat is more, duly cremated, turning up a week or so afterwards at his London office. As for poor Mrs. Reeve, who. had donned the orthodox -weeds, the situation, is oven yet more embarrassing. For thirty days does the dead and cremated Reeve persist in being very much alive,-and then —well, exactly -what happens you must discover for yourselves in the pages of this startling if scarcely convincing story. In Mr.. Hichens's story, if I remember rightly, there was a transmigration of souls. Mr. Wales's excursionist on the Astral Plane loses his body. It is all very wonderful, and, in its waj, not ill done, but all,- nevertheless, so tho average, everyday reader will prefer to believe, wildly and -weirdly impossible.

SOME COOO SHORT STORIES. Mr. James B. Connolly, the author of "Sonnio Boy's People" (Charles Scribner and Sons, per George Robertson and Co.), is easily in the front rank of American short story writers. . It was only a couple of months or so ago.that I commended to my readers a collection of excellent storios by this writer, entitled "Wide Courses." In this new book, Mr. Connolly gives us nine equally admirable yarns, most of them dealing with the adventurous experiences of American merchant sailormen. Mr. Connolly can handle a humorous subject just as ably as he can produce a fino dramatic effect, and that lie is just as much at home on land as.on the sea is proved by an electioneering story, "Tim Riley's Touch," in which the smart, not over-scrupulous methods of the Yankee politician are hit in a spirit of really admirable satire. Mr. Connolly's books deserve to bo better known than I imagino they are in this country. Tho writer is a writer of quite conspicuous force and originality. "THE FOREST MAIDEN." A Maurice Hewlettian influence, phis, too, a slight touch of Algernon Blackwood's mastery of the supernatural, is to the fore in Lee Robinett's curious story, "The Forest Maiden." (F. G. Browne and Co., per AVhitcombe and Tombs.) The lioro, a young hunter in the wilds of the British Columbian forest, catches sight of a beautiful girl standing on the shores of a lonely lake. Laughing to scorn the remonstrance of his "superstitious half-bred guide, tho young fellow pursues the wood nymph, and follows her into a tangled forest wilderness, where he meets with a series of romantic adventures. In the long run the maiden, who at first is invested by the admiring young hunter with a mystical personality, turns out to bo a very real person, and as pleasant s o.cmrado as she is a pretty picce of femininity. And sister, to boot, to a real livo lordl You can guess the end, how the long lost Lilian Gwennoth, tho Lilith of tho strange "New Eden," in which she is temporarily domiciled, is taken back to civilisation by tho enraptured Kenmore, with the inevitable wedding bells echoing in the near future. "THE CREAT HAZARD." Mr. Silas Hocking rarely gets far away from his much-beloved Cornwall, and in his latest story, "The Great Hazard" (Fisher IJnwin), the principal scenes aro once again (aid in tbe Delectable Duchy. Tho interest centres round a country vicar, a handsome and well-to-do man, who, when a young curate in the East End of London, bas married, out of pity, a girl in whom an inherited insanity breaks out oil her wedding day. Ten years later she is still living, and temporarily regains her reason. Released from the asylum, she joins her husband, whose life she now renders- an .earthly; hell tut- her, yulgat.

ity and low tastes, and especially by the < violent jealousy she conceives for the ; vicar's friends, mora particularly a ■ young lady who, under happier circum- ' stances, might have married him aud ! made him happy. The story is a trifle ■ depressing in tone, and the fact that . for two of its principal characters tlio • last acts in their life dramas are replete ! with bitter regret, and, in one case, even with tragedy, may disappoint the sentimental reader not a little. • "THE WOMAN IN THE CAR." "The Woman in the Car." by Richard Marsh (T. Fisher Unwin), provides a rich feast of sensation, indeed its chiof fault is the very prodigality with which the clever author of "The Beetle" heaps up mystery upon mystery. A. story which commences with the stabbing to death (by a woman) of a gentlomanin crowded Piccadilly Circus, and which also, in its first chapter, includes the foul murder of a chauffeur, at first believed to be a well known millionaire, promises well from the point of view of sensation lovers. That performance succeeds promise will, I think, bo cheerfully admitted by all who peruse Mr. Marsh's excitement-stored pages. "EDGAR CHIRRUP." Miss Peggy Webling, the author of "Edgar Chirrup" (Methuen and Co.), has written more than one entertaining ?tory (I have special and grateful memories, for instance, of, her "Virginia Perfect," and "A Spirit of Mirth"), but really she should not, at this time of day, plagiarise from Dickens. For when one reads as follows: "Sow skilfuly Rilth Deering peoled.the apples, the pale green spiral slipping, as thin as shavings, from beneath the knife. How lightly she handled the flour, mixed, rolled, and dredged the paste, edged the dish, popped in the quarters of fruit with two or three cloves, sugared and watered, fitted the crust, and nicked it round," etc., etc., one cannot fail to remember how a certain young lady named Ruth Pinch once made a steak pudding. But "Edgar Chirrup," despite its too frequent and too palpable suggestion of a Dickensian influence, is a pleasant, wholesomo, and eminently readable story. The hero is a young actor who meets with many and varied experiences of theatrical life in America as well as in London, and who remains as unspoiled by good fortune as he has been patient and dignified when his professional path was strewn with ugly and awkward rooks. A very jolly book is "Edgar Chirrup." IRISH HUMOUR. It is always good to find the name of an old favourite on the title page of a new book, and those who remember with due gratitude the rollicking Irish yarns which were collected under the titles of "Through Green Glasses," and "From the Green Bag," will accord a hearty welcome to Mr. Edmund Downey's new budget of humorous stories, "Dunleary, or the Humours of a Munster Town" (Sampson, Low and Co., per George Robertson and Co., Melbourne). Mr. Downey is as riotously funny as ever he was, . and if th® citizens of •Dunleary are, in real life, such a comical crew as they are depicted in this book, it is-worth while a journey to the Green Isle to make their acquaintance. A capital book for a sparo half-hour or two; perhaps better as a "dipping" book than a book to ba read right through. 11l one or two of the yarns, "The Manoeuvres of Micky Malony," for instanco, there is a quito Leverian strain, the strain of "Harry Lorrequer." . "LILY LOUISA." 'Artists • and artistic life are _ largely in evidence in Mrs. Stanley Wrench's new story, "Lily Louisa" (Methuen and Co.). The heroine,. an orphan. girl, whose .* childhood is spent amidst t. humble rural surroundings, has a natural taste for art, and when she goes to an art school her sketches attract the attention' of a visitor from London, who insists upon her adopting painting as a profession. Lily Louisa becomes in time quite a famous artist, but the success she achieves does not make her forget a youthful attachment, and the story of how that attachment is renewed, and how, for a time, love and the artistic temperament clash not a little is told by the author with great charm and delicacy. A married man, in artist who is mated to an utterly abominable woman, is for a timo deeply in lovs with the heroine, who, in consequence, is pursued by the jealous woman, with s. positively malignant enmity, an enmity which spells, indirectly, a dreadfully tragic end- for poor Lily Louisa's baby. A bright, well-written, wholesome story. "THE WHITE HORSES." I always enjoy a novel by Halliwel! Sutcliffe, author of that excellent story, "Rioroft of Withens," which has been called the Yorkshire "Lorna Doone," and his latest book, "The White Horses" (Ward, Lock and Co., per Whitcombe and Tombs) is a very readable production. Mr. fc'utcliffe takes us back to the Great Civil War, his background being mainly the wild moors of Yorkshire in 16GJ, the year of Marston Moor. The author's sympathies with the Cavalier side are perhaps a trifle over emphasised, for all the Roundheads were not canting hypocrites, and cowardly braggarts. The majority of them were just as "fust-class fightin' men" as oven a Tommy of to-day would desire to mee.t. This exception taken, I can, cordially recognise the many merits of a book, the pages of which are brimful of romantic adventure, and which once taken up will not readily be put down by the reader. The character drawing is much more careful and telling than is often the case in fiction of this kind. Altogether, Mr. Sutcliffe's latest ■ novel well maintains its author's high reputation as a writer of fiction, of the sword and cape class. "SPRAY ON THE WINDOWS." 'Another story with a Yorkshire setting, but of a different kind to Mr. Sutcliffe's excellent romance, is Mrs. Buckrose's "Spray on the Windows" (Mills and Boon, per Whitcombe and Tombs) Mrs. Buckroso deals with Yorkshire life of to-day, of the very matter of fact life of a seaside town, which she calls Wodenscar, but which is easily identifiable by those who know the northern county. The heroine, Ann Middleton, is a young lady who act 6 as companion to a wealthy and elderly woman, who is devoted to spiritualistic and similar studies. With this lady's son, Captain Barrington, the heroine at first imagines herself in love, but another and much less well-to-do admirer comes on the scene, and Ann sacrifices prospective wealth for love. Mrs. Buckrose's lat- , est story is like its predecessors, chiefly remarkable for its humorous sketches i of north country life. There is a mid-dle-aged lodginghouse-kceper, in particular, a Mrs. Walker, who is a delightfully funny creation, almost as good, in her own way, as the worthy Mrs. Bean in "Down Our Street." "IN OTHER DAYS." Mrs. Alfred Sedgwick's now story, 1 "In Other Days" (Methuen and Co.) can bo commended as a very pleasantly written and amusing story, the chief characters in which, a middle-aged lady who is separated from her husband, and her high-spirited, but a trifle over-im-pulsivo daughter, suddenly determine to Ic-avo the country house where they live, as semi-dependents, with some pompous and selfish relatives, and make a new borne for themselves ill a quiet Cornish seaside village, much frequented by artists. Hore the gentle Mrs. Cloudesley meets her husband, now one of the artists of .t-hq and lie^..

comes reconciled to him, despite tho opposition of her daughter, who chooses, for a time, to regard her father as an onomy rather than a friend. A very pretty lovo story affords a socondary interest, but the mother, not tho daughter, is tho real heroino of tho novel. Mrs. Sedgwick's carefully wrought portrait of this lady deserves to. rank very high in literary craftsmanship. "CLARK'S FIELD." Mr. Robert Herrick, the author of "Clark's Fiold" (Mills and Boon; por Whitcombo and Tombs), is ono of tho fow American novelists of the day who really count, as will be admitted by all who have read his "Together," "Olio Woman's Life," and that exceptionally fine novel "The Common Lot." His latest story is that of a poor girl who, when acting as a mere drudge in a boardinghouso, is suddenly discovered to be the heiress to a large fortune, derivable from a large property lying on the outskirts of a large Western city. The novelist traces the development of tho horoine's character with consummate skill, being specially successful in his satirio pictures of the parasites, both male and female, who would fain prey upon the heiress. How, in the long run. that young lady discovers real worth —and love —in a seemingly unpromising quarter—l shall not tell m dotail. Suffice it to say that "Clark's Field" is a singularly forcible and convincing story which should not bo j neglected by discerning readers. "ACROSS THE LATITUDES." Under the general title "Aoross the Latitudes" (Little, Brown and Co., per George Robertson and Co.), Mr. John Fleming Wilson, author of "The Land Claimors." which was so well received last year, collects a round dozen or so stories of the sea, tales of ocean liners, and sailing ships, of ports so far apart as Seattle, San Francisco, and Shanghai, Honolulu, and of sailormen of all ranks and degrees. Soveral of tho stories, and theso are amongst the best in the collection, deal with coastal seafaring lifo in the Sandwich Islands. Mr. Wilson does not, however, attempt any rivalry of Mr. Jack London. His style is much less flamboyant than that of the young Californian writer, and whilst he does not despise a roraantio interest, it is evident that his first aim is to relate t-ruo stories of the sea with a convincing realism which is none the less affective in that it is never over'coloured. These stories of his deserve to rank with tho best work ever dona i.'l fiction, dealing with. seafaring life. They aro all rejilote with a fine dramatic interest, especially the striking story of a submarine experience as related in the vigorously told and highly exciting tale entitled "The "Unwilling War Correspondent." I can heartly commend "Across the Latitudes" to those of my readers who enjoy well-told storios of the sea and seafaring won. "THE HOUSE OF DAFFODILS." Miss Louise Mack (Mrs. Creed), tho clover Australian novelist, has never written a bettor story than "The House of Daffodils" (Mills and Boon; per Whitcombe and Tombs), in which tho sadly tried heroino, who is left almost penniless by the death of an extravagant father, has to fight her way through life with the added handicap of her parents' haunted pest. Poor Mary Houghton is robbed of her lover for a whilo through the cruelty of his aristocratic relatives, but she l.over ceases to hold up her head to adverse fortune, and happiness, though sadly belated, comes to her at last. Miss Mack introduces us to some very queer people at the country house, in wliich most of her scenes are laid, and Lefray's gambling, extravagant and vicious wife, belongs more to melodrama of the "Worst Woman in London" type than to real life. Still, the heroine is so charming and lovable a character, that the unreality of the dreadful Emily can well be forgiven. From Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton I have received a shilling reprint of Ralph Connor's Canadian story, "The Settler," a special and commendablo feature in which is tho careful and illumining study given by the .author of the problems of alien immigration to tho great Dominion.' In "Killed in Action" (Jarrold and Co.), Mr. Noel Fleming gives us sovon comparatively briaf hut well-written stones, about the war and what tho war means to very different classes of society in the Motherland. All are very readable, especially thoso entitled "L'Hotal de I'lJnivers,'.' and "Killed k Action" (Price, Is. 3d.)