BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

Dominion, Volume 14, Issue 166, 9 April 1921, Page 11

BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

(By

Liber.)

Give a man a pipe he can trnoke, Give a man a book he can read; 1 And home is bright with a calm delight Though the room be poor indeed.

-—James Thomson.

TWO BOOKS OF VERSE

“Songs of Donegal.”

In "Songa of Donegal” (London. Herbert Jenkins), Mr. Patrick M'Gill. author of that remarkable book, "Children of the Dead End," gives us a collection of poems dealing with rural life in his native land. Mr. M'Gill is evidently well versed in the local folklore of the West of Ireland. His peasants, fishermen, and their wives and daughters, his village oddities are wholly convincing. They are r.f the soil, real people, not mere puppets. Mr. M'Gill is evidently as well versed In fairy-lore and local superstitions as is his fellow-countryman who wrote "The Crock of Gold,” and he is skilful, too, in reflecting the homely philosophy of the hamlet dwellers. Here are some examples of the wit and wisdom of "The Haeh&ry Wo?”;' »

Three sounds of increase; a lowing cow, The smithy sparks, the swish of a plough. Three things strong and a house is blest; The table, the fire, the hand to a guest. Three aro the tokens of goodly dress-: Elegance, comfort and lastingness. Three hands and the world its) best will

yield; , The hand in the smithy, the byre and

the field. \ Three things to trouble a woman's rest A neighbour’s butter on bread for a guest. The word of esteem that comes too slow; Tho washing with never a shirt to show, Three are the words of grace; from tho tongue \ The good, the merciful, the word that Is sung.

Love of home, love of the soil, love of the simple joys of his “townland” inspire many of Mr. M'Gill’s verses. No lasses for him like the "Coolens fair of Carrigdun”: The coolens fair of Carrigdun! Their worth? ■ , ■ .

Go, take as token, The light feet that step a reel; the strong hearts hourly broken! By day beneath the creels of kelp t;ie dear white feet are moving At night—" The night is ours," they say. “For that’s tho time for loving.” Come, scrape the fiddle! Foot the reel I The time is now or'never! Bold men, good wives, and pretty girls and Carrigdun for ever.

There is a touch of grim pathos in the verses, “At Innislhkeel,” where the poet addresses those who, having played their part, now rest in "God? 6 acre":

Sleep you all and sleep you well down here? Have you not a word to tell, down here? Who have spun and set and sown ' In the homes and holing you’ve known. Yet you seem to like it well. , Down here. Oonah. Norah. Ishabel down here, Have you anything* to tell, down here? Light hands at the spinning wheel. Feet as light to foot a reel. Oonah. Norah, lehabel Down here. " Murtagh. Dermod, Donal Dhu, down hero. Is it well, bold boys, for you. down here? Ab the pattern, dance and fair, Girls, full-bogomed. wait you there And they wait in vain for you Down here.

Tell me, do you like the place, down here? Men of mettle, girls of grace, down here? Doos your heart not long once more For the fair, the danolng floor? Woe and Joy have not a place Down here. House and housing either hand, down st. here! Hush you in' this calm town land, down here! ’ fTer© they rest at noon and night Twice a spade-length out of sight. The book contains several interesting, illustrations, reproductions of ■ photographs of the scenes described in the -erses. (Price, 75.) "The Little Wings.” This is the day of the. juvenile author. After Miss Daisy Ashford's inimitable "Young Visitors” and the American prodigy, Opal White’s much-discutsed “Diary,” comes a daintily-printed volume . of verse; "The Little Wings” (Oxford, Basil Blackwell), the author of which, Vivienne Dayrell (Miss Vivienne Dayrell- . Browning), is, so we are assured by her mother, only a little over fifteen. Miss Dayrell is certainly a very clever girl, for most of the poems here presented reflect both cultured thoughts and delicate fancies. In the majority of them is evinced a deep sense of the quiet beauties of Nature, in some there is a mystical suggestion which points to deeper thought than is usually credited to a maiden of fifteen.- I quote the simple but charming verses headed "The Little Attic of Dreams”:

From moonrise unto moonset I leave this world behind, And steal into the labyrinths And chambers of my mind. Down long, dim corridors I. pass. Through arches and through rooms Bv temples and by lonely lakes Past gardens and past tombs. By sufany. rambling terraces By liiied pools of sleep By glades all full of bird-song Or wrqpp.ed in silence deep. Aud up a, crumbled, shaded stair Where roses bloom and fade. Into a tiny attic room Where broken dreams are laid. Each night I come quite silently Each night I softly go And kiss each timid little thought That none will never know.

From moonrisß unto moonset x I steal away, to And Those little, old dead dreams that lie In the attic of my mind. Mr. G. K. Chesterton contributes n preface, in which he draws attention to the young poet's "very beautiful and still more promising work,” anil makes some wise and usefully-suggestive remarks upon the alleged "immaturity” of youthful works such as this, arguing, in the ingenious Cheetertonian way, that what «ome may consider a defect is more properly to be considered a distinct merit. (New Zealand price 6s. Gd.) TWO BOOKS OF ESSAYS. "Ths Limber Elf.” "The Limber Elf,” by Margaret Whiting Spilhaus (Oxford: Basil Blackwell) is a delightful excursion into and examina. tion of child psychology. The title comes, of course, from Coleridge’s lines: A little child, a limber elf Singing, dancing to itself. A fairy thing with red. round cheeks That always finds and never 1 seeks. . . . Mrs. Spilhaus must possess what is almost an uncanny knowledge of rhe working of the child mind, ior every ixtsrible phase of juvenile thought, every variety of child-like tastes, desires, and ambitions seem to be here laid bare. If the smell sorrows of childhood are not left unrepresented—and _ though to nn adult; mind very Stnnlf things, juvenile sorrows ’ can l>e terribly real—the writer gives u« a raid feast of those juvenile dreams, fancies, and ideals which reflect a deep inward happiness in life. Also Mrs. Spilhaus has a rich! vein 01 good-natured satire and humour upon which to draw' when she refers to certain latter-day eccentricities of noveltyseeking educationists. I should like, by quotation, .to show how cleverly and in what graceful language these essays arc written—there is one, in particular, on "Pear.” which it would be well were it read by every young mother, and anoilier, on "The Nursery Bookshelves.” which in its way, is quite ft valuable little, bibliography of juvenile litaruter —but space limits furbid. Some emits-, big drawings by children are introduced, eLo some pleasant verse. A quite deHghtful book for all who love children andi children's ways, and would fain have a wid T nfid deeper nnd' ralnnding of and aympathv with child thoughts and fano!e«. (N.Z. price, 7s. 6d.)

“Essays on Books.” Some of the best written of the many interesting literary essays which appear on page of "The Times” Literary Supplement are from the pen of Mr. A. Glutton-Brock, who is well known as a constructive critic of the highest order. ' Under the title, “Essays on Books" (Methuen and Co.), a selection from Mr. Clutton-Brock’s articles now appear in permanent form. They include .essays on Shakespeare, the prose romances of William Morris, on Dickens, Swinburne, and tho Brontes, on Dostoevsky, and Turgenev, arid other great writers. Two specially interesting articles are those which deal with Mr. Eesting Jones's "Life of Samuel Butler," and with the famous "Note Books," which many of Butler’s admirers consider by.far his best work. There is nothing of the literary pedant about Mr. Clntton-Brock. He is always more in-, terested in the human and ethical side of literature than concerned with the forms and methods of literary expression. His own style ss, however, delightfully clear and graceful. Occasionally, as in tho essay on Dickens, he succeeds in throwing a distinctly new light upon an author’s work, concerning which and its many facets and qualities it might have been assumed that the last word in criticism and explanation had long ago been said. There is not one of these essays which is not thought stimulating and'agreeably informative. (N.Z. price, Bs. 6d.)

LIBER’S NOTE BOOK

Art in Australia.

The eighth number of "Art in Australia ’ (Angus and Robertson, Sydney) well maintains the high reputation this excellent publication has achieved with art lovers in Australia and New Zealand. Neither in London, nor Paris, nor even New York, could finer colour-printing be produced than is here exemplified. The colour pictures include reproductions of pictures by Janies Quinn (a portrait group of great dignity of treatment)’’; Max Meldrum (a beautiful interior with figures, which hangs in the National Art Gallery of N.S.W.); two paintings by A. H. Fullwood, an Australian artist long resident in London, one of which, the "Ludlow Castle" is specially impressive in its fine massed colour effects; Tom Roberts, a nude figure study of grace and distinction; also two pictures by Lionel Lindsay, one a delightful pictorial transcription from “Don Quixote,” the other a peacock study, a fine specimen of an artistic bravura which stops short of any "criard" effect., Albert Collins and John Moore are represented by landscapes, and James R. Jackson, an exNew Zealander, -by a fine crepuscular effect on Sydney Harbour; Margaret Preston and Ernest Finlay by still-life studies. The remaining colour-plate reproduces a well-drawn, beautifully-painted study of “Wood-duck," by the late W. Dexter, a Sydney artist, whose work first attracted attention at an exhibition held so far back ■ as 1851, and whose career is the subject of an interesting article, “The Dexter Mystery," by Mr. Hardy Wilson. In addition to the colour-plates are a number of interesting reproductions of black and white work, including some delicate pencil studies by Harold Herbert, G. L. Trindall, Haus Heysen, John Moore, T. Ure Smith, J. A. Crisp, and the late .J. J. Hilder; a chalk drawing -by Eliot Gruner and Dattilo Rubbo; a charcoal drawing (a portrait of Henri Verbruggen, the famous musiical conductor), by Norman Carter; two exquisite aquatints by Sid Long (recently elected to the Royal Society of Painter Etchers), and the inevitable nude or semi-nude study by Norman Lindsey, as usual a marvel of firm and graceful draughtsmanship. I do wish, however, that Mr. Lindsay would give the hideous satyrs and fauns with which be nearly always accompanies his female figures a well-deserved rest. There is something peculiarly bestial and revolting in this too frequent feature in Lindsay’s compositions.- * The letterpress in the number is exceptionally interesting, including as it does an eloquent plea by Professor Archibald Strong for an Australian National Theatre, and articles on the works of various leading Australian artists, by Bertram Stevens, Lionel Lindsay (as clever with ihis pen as with brush or etching needle), Howard Ashton, James S. Macdonald (a very sensible note on “The Disrepute of ‘Smooth’ Painting ), and others. Altogether an exceptionally strong number. From a publisher’s announcement in the number I gather that the next issue of “Art in Australia” will be devoted to etching, the best work of Australian etchers, from Conrad Martens to Norman Lindsay, being represented, together with examples- of the etched work- of Rembrandt, Velasquez, and' such famous moderns as Whistler. D. Y. Cameron, and the late Anders Zorn. The publishers also announce a volume (in the same format, ns the Hilder, Stretton, and Heysen books) on the Art ot Blamire Young." As usual, the editions of these books will be limited. The Peasant Poet.

Mr. -Cd&deu Sanderson, a new publisher, has issued an entirely new edition of the poems of John Clare, the Northamptonshire peasant poet- Clares poetrv was first published in the same year,' 1820. which witnessed the appearance of Keats's first volume, "Lamia, Isabella, and Other Poems. I H.o peasant poet-’s verse quickly ran 111 ” four editions, whilst, the stock of lie Keats volume was not exhausted until nearly twenty years later. To-day Keats s fame is assured, whilst few people. I. fear, are conversant with Clare’s verse. Nevertheless, it is well worth attention of nil who love what is called- nature poetry, for there are many almost perfect things in the peasant poets volume. "The Times’ Literary Supplement” recently had a five-column article on Clare and his poetry. The wrt.er ' of the article describes Clare as a ■Singer born,” and eays: "His nature was strangely simple . . . the intensity with which he adored the country which he knew is without a parallel. ' was essentially a man of the held-. I peasant who was proud of ami unfcignoil'ly happy in his 'rustic environment. Fame bade me eb on, and I toiled the day Til| lO the fields wh'i'e he lived should be known In'rov wnsL Hi* needs were few, his joys’6-im pie: My ballroom the pasture, my music the My'drink was the fountain, mv church the tall trees. As a "self-portrait” of the poet, the four following lines ar" surely very charming: A silent, man in life’s affairs. A thinker fr*m a boy: A peasant, in his daily careeA noet in his joy. The editor of the new edition is Ip<lward Blunden, himself a poet. I he Cobden-Sanderson edition is rnther expensive (Ifis. Gd. English price), but those who would like to sample the peasant poet can do so in a volume of selections, published nt a mockrate price. Stray Leaves. That highly fantastic, but in its literary'style. wholly delightful story, "They Wpul?’ by Nornu'in Douglas, whose earlier book "Soulh Wind," should surel.v bo reprinted in cheaper form, has 1 ,

see gone into a third edition. The publishers, Chapman and Hall, also claim a big success fur another of their books “The Pilgrim of a Smile,” by Norman Davey, which, so I notice, is described by London “Truth”—always a reliable authority on present day fiction—as “a genuine work of ■ imagination, a really fine piece of subtle, sardonic satire." It is to be hoped there will be, a Colonial edition. Many excellent Engglish novels published nowadays are never sent out in Colonial editions. M e could well spare the never-ending flow o'f Le Queux, Oppenheim and Co., for some of the younger and better writers. Too many of the best books are only issued in the English editions, and New Zealand book buyers simply can’t or won’t give more than six shillings for a novel.

Tho cabled summary of certain, points in Lord Bryce’s new work "Modern Democracies," makes it clear that the book possesses a special and great interest for Australian and New Zealand readers. Macmillan's are publishing the work in two volumes, at somewihere about 40s. Later on, as with Bryce’s great work on the American Commonwealth, there will no doubt be a cheaper edition. Amoiqlst other interesting new announcements by the firifi of Cassells and Co. are “My Life and Song,” by Madame Tetrazzini; “Reminiscences,” by Lord Shaw, of Dunfermline, with recollections and anecdotes of Gladstone, Campbell Bannerman, and others; and a new travel book "The Riviera of the Corniche Road,” by Sir Frederick Treves, whose earlier books, especially “The Other Side of the Lantern/’ have been so popular. Messrs Cassells a] 80 (announce a new book by -H. M. Tomlinson. to whose books “The Sea and the (Jungle,” and “Old Junk,” I have more than once made reference in these columns. Mr. Tomlinson’s new book is entitled “London River, a 'book of the Thames Below Bridge,” and deals not so much with the river itself, as with the 'life which is influenced by it. Evidently the book is a collection of the sketches of Thames-side and dock-land life which Mr. Tomlinson has recently contributed to the “Athenaeum. . The Australian rights of Captain Macedoine’s Daughter.” by Wiliam M - Fee, the engineer-author, whosq Casuals of the Sea" and "Aliens were such striking books, have been, I hear, acquired by .a Sydney firm, who will, it is hoped, put a reasonably priced edition on the market. M'Fee’s new story is said to be greatly influenced by Conrad’s work, of which M'Fee is a great admirer. It should be none the worse for that. M'Fee’s stories have had, I hear, a considerable vogue in America, but they are not so well known in New Zealand as they deserve td be. "Casuals of the Sea” is in particular, a very fine story of life in the merchant service. "The collected Parodies” of Mr. J. C. Squire, whose critical work, signed "Solomon Eagle,” will be well-known to many of my readers, is a new Hodder and Stoughton book. It includes “Tricks of the Trade” and several other of the earlier works of the editor of that fine literary review the "London Mercury. “Ayl win,” by the late Theodore Walts Dunton, ' has ‘been transformed into a film play by an English “movie” firm. Many of the scenes in the story, which, as my readers may remember, has a distinctly Borrovian flavour, have been interpreted in the actual places mentioned in the book. A few good English film plays would be a welcome euawSy—io some people at least —from ■ the sickly sentiment and crude melodrama of so many of the Yankee film productions with which we are deluged, aud it is to be noted that "Aywin” will soon find its way to tho New Zealand picture theatres. The Shakespeare Head Press, founded at Stratford-on-Avon by tho late A. H. Bullen, has been acquired by Mr. Basil Blackwell, of Oxford, a publishing firm which is rapidly earning an excellent reputation for its enterprise in-, issuing new and good .work in the fields of poetry and belles lettres- generally, and whoso publications, are characterised by exceptionally artistic typography and general get up. Mr. H. G. Wells is an astonishingly industrious writer. It seems only the other day that . he published his much-dis-cussed "Outline of World History," and now I see by Messrs. Casselft latest list that he has a new book about to appear entitled "Tho Salvaging of Civilisation.” ‘"Die idea that now shapes and dominates my public life,” writes the author, “is the idea of a world politically united —of a world securely and permanently at pence." A noble ideal, truly, but qno which, at present at least, seems to be far removed from the practical and attainable.

Much has been written on Scott’s financial troubles, which caused him to spend the later years of liis life in ceaseless literary labours. There was "Lockhart’s Life," and Ballantyne’s defensive pamphlet, and, in later days, Sir Leslie Stephen, in his “Hours with a Biographer,” made a searching examination of the facts on both sides. The last word on the subject has not been, said, for Messrs. Black announce an entirely new work, “The Intimate Life of Sir Walter Scott," by Mr. Archibald. Slocker, who

claims ho will’ include a considerable amount of new material. Tho whole story of Scott's first love is told for the first time, and new light is thrown on his parents and the (amily life at Abbotsford. A special feature in tho hook will be a detailed account of Scott’s business connections, and the financial disaster of 1826, which left him with a debt of over .£120,000.