LIBER'S NOTE-BOOK

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXVII, Issue 8349, 8 February 1913, Page 10

LIBER'S NOTE-BOOK

liveryono wbo possofsos oven flip most modest collection of knives that particular, okas of book iato wiucb ore

“dips.” On the pleasures of "dipping” you may consult the learned men, such as Bacon, or such inspired gossipper.s us Lamb and Edward Fitz Gerald. As to a choice of “dippable” books, everyone must decide for himself. Like Mr Jingle, I would not “presume to dictate.” Some —1 pity them—might find Pepys merely a garrulous bore, or "Walpole an illnaturcd scandal-monger, but the “Diary” and Ihe “Letters” I have always had on my special shelf of “dippable” ■ books—together, of course, with the immortal Boswell. Perhaps, however, tho best “dippable” books are volumes of. extracts and anthologies, and in this connection I would fain say a few words in commendation of two volumes which have reached me recently. Tho first, “The Pageant of English Prose,” edited by E. M. Leonard, and published hy Mr Henry Prowde, of London for tho Oxford University Press, belongs to that excellent series, ‘‘The Oxford Library of Standard Authors" (Is 6d and 2s fid), and is a companion volume to “The Pageant of English Poetry,” and “The Book Lover’s Anthology,” to,which I have previously directed tho attention of my readers. Mr Leonard gives ns no fewer than 500 passages from tho works of 325 authors. Ho is laudably eclectic in his selection, for “Piona Macleod” and Oscar Wilde, with Pater, Swinburne (so much of whose prose was so muoh better than eb much ,of whoso verse) and Geergo Meredith, to mention but a few of the" “moderns," are represented, alongside such “ancients” :as Milton and Walton, Hobbes (of the -Leviathan), Malory, Tyndale, Bacon, and John de Trovisa (how many of us ever heard, I wonder, of John de Trevisa before?). As Hr Leonard says: “This is a book to be dipped into as opportunity offers, or fancy dictates ... here will be found authors clad in ermine and robes of state, in tho divines sober garments, decked occasionally with the riband of a jest, in drab of formal cut, ia the camel’s hair of the prophet, in slashed doublet and other fantastic attire, furnished, perhaps, with the feathers and rapiers of the wits, or with cap and bells, in the work-a-day clothes of generation after generation, while the women may bo Been in turban and ruff and farthingale or whatever may chance to be tho kaleidoscopic fashion of the passing moment. The prose exemplified in these pages embraces history, philosophy, theology, natural and political science, fiction, essays, table talk, translations, dedications, diaries, letters, and parliamentary, pulpit and forensic oratory.” There is a “Style Index" and “Subject Index, ’ and an “Authors* Index,” and some forty pages of readable and pleasantly informative notes—74o odd piges in all of the very best in Englioh prose. And all for a florin! The second of my “dippable" hooks today is "Golden String”—a Day Book for Busy Men and Women, arranged by Susan, Countess of,'Malmesbury, amt Violet Brooke-Hunt (John Murray’s Shilling library)—fit'teen pence here. The compilers of this charming selection of extracts, in prose and verse, from the works of well-known writers, quote, ou the title page of their volume, some lines by William Blake: I give you the end of a Golden String, Only wind it into a Ball, It will lead you in at Heaven’s gate. Built in Jerusalem's wall. A high purpose is that. of tho comPjfers. They say that so mqch is heard ot ‘Doubt, Cowardice, Indolence, Sordidness, Love of Luxury, and Want of Priiiciples that some are tempted to look on these as the characteristics of the day.” And so they have compiled a book of extracts, of watchwords, from master minds of every age, our own age included, which remind ua that ‘‘Love and Hope, Beanty and Truth, Faith aild Courage, Work? • and -Duty ano still the calls to which all, true hearts send hack a ready answer." The specially ethical standpoint taken by the compilers is responsible no doubt for the inclusioli of many extracts which, by - reason of their lack of distinctly literary style, find no place either in "The Pageant of English Poetry” or “The Pageant of English Prose." But in others it is pleasant to find enobling thoughts enshrined in both prose and verse most graceful and impeccably correct, in. literary expression. Many of the “ancients” are here, Marcus Aurelius and EpeCtetus, amongst’ others. The Elizabethans have been literally drawn upon; but the selection is singularly catholic, as may be seen when in the .index, one finds for instance, Maeterlinck and . Lewis, Morris, Archbishop Magee, and Harriet Martineau, and even such decidedly "latter days” as Maarten Maartens, and Henry Seton Merrimah, jostling Milton, and Mirabeau, Montagne and Montalembert, A page of extracts is allotted to each day in the year, add though at times, as is over the case with ; books such as these, one may differ from the editorial choice, the general quality ot wit, wisdom, and sound counsel which the compilers have collected is as astonishingly rich as ,it is fasinatingly varied on stylo. At lifteenpenco “The Golden String," is, like Mr Leonard’s book, is excellent value. X nave already, a fortnight or' so ago, made allusion to two" new books from the pen of that versatile and ever entertaining writer, Mr E. V, Lucas, Local book* aallors have now, I, notice, received supplies of Mr Lucas’s latest story, “London Eavender,” and his latest combination of guidebook and gossip, “A Wanderer in Slorenco" (London. Methuen anti Co.; Wellington, Whitcombo and Tombs). “Loudon Lavender” can hardly lie called a novel. Like its predecessors. ‘‘Listeners’ Lure,” "Over Bemerton’s,” and “Mr Ingleside,” it is a delightful literary entree —an “entertainment," I believe the author hiinself styles it—a series of chatty and most readable, and, on many out of way subjects, most agreeably informative essays, strung together by an engaging riorsono.l narrative. Those who know “Over Bemerton’s" and “Mr ingleside" will bo glad to hear that Mr Lucas introduces in his new book many of their old friends. Here again is Mr Falconer, tho amiable, the reminiscent, the graceful middle-aged lover: here, too, is tho charming Naomi; Mr Dabney, tho editor, and tho excessively up-to-date young gentleman about; town, the agreeably cheerful Dolly.

Bat there are many new and odd, and vastly amusing figures in Mr Lucas's latest comedy, a retired “zoo” keeper, and a cinematograph expert amongst others. There is some pleasant chat about the “Zoo,” and wo take a day off at the Derby, and even, for once deserting the author’s favourite" Cockaigne,- go so tar as Rimini and jaunt about in Italy generally. AU through the book runs a vein of kindly, tolerant philosophy; with touches here and there of gentle satire on the fads, fancies and follies of the day. Tho book gets its title from Naomi's infant daughter, who makes her appearance in the final chapter and with whom one reader at least hopes to renew acquaintance in yet another of her literary parent’s charming books.

In “A Wanderer in Jcloronce" (Methtiens; per Whitcombe and Tombs), Mr Lucas gives us a worthy successor to "A Wanderer in London," A Wanderer in Paris," and A Wanderer in Holland." The author wisely follows on his accustomed lino. There is just enough "boiled down Baedeker” to make the volume indispensable to him or her who can visit Florence in the flesh. But there is such a happy combination of personal impressions of art, architecture and scenery, and of men and manners Florentine with purely travellers' lore and Counsel; that to those who. like myself, must perforce make only an armchair journey to the picturesque city on the Arno, the book is as entertaining as it would bo either to those who already know Florence or may soon have an opportunity of visiting it. Mr Lucas eeems just as much at home in the XJfizzi and the Pitti Galleries as he has been, in former volumes, in the National Gallery, the Louvre or in the ilaunitshuis at The Hague, ju-d as enthusiastic over Botticelli. and .Michel Angelo, as ho was over, ,say # . Venal*#*,Pqter .Van. Her Hooch,

oven Greuze and Constable, over Hogarth and Rembrandt,

Mr Lucas is one of the few writers—Mr Lewui Hind is another—who can bring homo to a far away reader the beauty, the distinction, the tascination of a great work of art which less fortunate folk are doomed to know only in a reproduction. Ho gossips, but never prattles. He is an impressionistic traveller, it may be. but his impressions are based upon sound Knowledge, and are palpably sincere. Not for him to worship at a shrine merely because the steps thereto have well worn by thousands of his forerunners. Always enthusiasm tempered by sanity. Mr Eucas gives us, too, muoh interesting history, and perhaps tho only fault 1 have lo find with his latest travel book is that he dwells a trifle too much on the past and somewhat neglects the present. As usual with the 'wanderer” scenes, the illustrations are a noteworthy feature. Mr Harry Morley contributes a series of capital colour pictures, in which the vivid light and shade contrasts of Florence are admirably suggested! and in addition there is a long series of reproductions in monotone of the great works of art which the city has been so richly endowed by its princes and citizens.

That “one half the world does not know how the other half lives" is an accepted truism. It has been given to Mr Arnold White (Vanoc), of the London “Referee,” to have the decidedly happy thought of gathering together a series ot descriptions, by "Referee” stlbscribers, not only in London, but iu various parts of,tho Empire, of thoir every day lives. 'Collected in a volume entitled “A Day of My Life” (Macdonald and Evans, Is 3d) those accounts of the “daily task and common round of working Britons at home and abroad; written by themselves and arranged and revised by “Vanoc," make capital reading. Here one can learn how the typical city clerk spends his business and leisure hours; can read of tho experiences of men and women following such diverse occupations as a rural, postman, a charity collector, a West End dressmaker, a village doctor, an asylum night nurse, or, going further afield, spend a day, in imagination, with a farmer on the African veld, an Australian boundary rider, a mining contractor in Chili, a small selector in Queensland, a planter iu the Malay States, etc., etc. There are some forty separate human documents of this kind. All aro interesting, some amusing, some pathetic in tone —none are merely banal in incident 'or narration. A capital idea well carried out.