BOOKS NEW AND OLD.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIV, Issue 132, 25 November 1911, Page 6

BOOKS NEW AND OLD.

(By James Wortley).

K Lord Avebury still in his old age takes the interest in furnishing the human mind that lie manifested when, as Sir John Lubbode, he compiled his list of the hundred best books, he must experience a growing sense of satisfac; tion at the rapidly increasing circulation of all that is best in literature, through the magnificent cheap editions now provided.

One is inclined to think that pessimists wilfully overlook the recent prodiuetHWs of such publishers as Dent, Nelson, Frowde, etc., when they rail at the rubbish they tell us is so eagerly sought after to-day. Almost every bookseller makes a special feature of these now well-known reprints, and I am disinclined to believe that they are all such poor business men as to stock in large quantities goods that will not sell. Every reading man knows that these books are issued in thousands, and lists of new additions are eagerly scanned to find books that have hitherto been beyond the purse of the prospective purchaser.

One of the best selections I have seen, though not so extensive as "Every man's," is "The World's Classics," issued ) from the Oxford University Press. It I contains several works not included in any other editions of a like nature, > and is well and conveniently bound, even in the cloth edition. Of course, we find Emerson, Hawthorne, White's Selbourne, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Thackeray, Dickens, -all, included. 'So is George Borrow, Smollett, 1 Sterne, Motley and Gibbon's great work. But there are other compilations I have not noticed before. No. 32 of the series is "Selected English Essays"—arranged hy W. Peacook, which has already run to seven impressions. Something good evidently, and a book I intend to dip into shortly.

Other works not frequently found today are Anthony Trollope's "The Three Clerks," Leigh Hunt's "The Town," Fielding's "Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon," and Jane Porter's "Scottish Chiefs." Many of the books are worth buying for the introductions alone, which are written, among others, by Clement Shorter. Austin Dobson, Robertson Nicoll and Theodore Watts-Dunton. Especially is this so of No. 143, which is listed thus: "Wells' Joseph and his Brethren. Introduction by A. C. Swinburne, and a note on Rossetti and I Charles Wells by Theodore Watts-Den-ton." Here we have before us in a few pages a famous quartette, whose personalities are always interesting. The "World's Classics" are published at Is net, and are obtainable almost anywhere in the Dominion at Is 3d in the cloth edition. NEW NOVELS. *"The City of Beautiful Nonsense," by E. Temple Thurston. London: Hodder and Stoughton. When one has read the star novelists because they must be noticed—and taken in more than enough of novels with a purpose—it is just like a city man's holiday among green fields and forests to pick up a charming little tale such as this proves to be. And I had never read any of Miss Thurston's books'before. (But a newspaper writer should never confess to being anything but a knowall, should he?) No wonder they are popular—and I am assured they are—with tiled mothers and other weary folk. Amid the sordid surroundings of tenement life in Fetter Lane or a tiny attic in Venice there is nothing but brightness and cheer, and surely no better picture was ever painted of a fond mother, than the winsome old lady who flits across the pages of this book. Even Mr. Chesterton, "the" Mr. Chesterton, the bailiff, is an entirely lovable character, and readers will delight to follow the ways of our hero, John Grey, an improvident waiter, through all his castle-building of beautiful nonsense to the climax and real thing. It would be too bad to spoil their enjoyment by any moro ample description.

*"The Woman-haters," by Joseph C. Lincoln. New York and London: D, Appleton and Co.

We are indebted to Mr. Lincoln for taking the rough Atlantic coast to the north of Long Island and peopling it with a true, great-hearted people, strong in wind and limb, and entirely human. The Cape Codder is familiar to all novel readers the world over, and so long as we get books like "Cap'!! 'Eri." "Cy Whittaker's Place," "Partners of the Tide" and "The Woman-haters" American novels will continue to gain in popularity. To my mind, the title of this last book is poor, and as though it were chosen when the writer was suffering from brain-fag. It is altogether too prosaic a label for Seth Atkins, the light-keeper, or his assistant. Certainly Seth Atkini has a childish quarrel with his wife, and Brown runs away from home because he is not permitted to marry the woman of his choice. These two men, in divers ways, come to be the keepers of Eastboro' twin-lights, and their experiences while such provide delightful entertainment for a quiet evening. Incidentally we learn the difference between "chewing" and "pipe" tobacco, get a lesson in washing dishes, and have a vivid picture of Job —socalled "because he seemed to be always sufl'erin' and fillin' the land with roarin's, like Job in the Bible." Job is the kind of dog many a boy has had given him at some time of his career, which he drags home with his handkerchief for a collar, and which fills the subsequent day with tumult and the night, with horror, until father in frenzied haste releases the mongrel, hastening his departure with kick. If you want a breath of the real salt sea off the coast of New England, read the ••Woman-haters."

*\Ye arc indebted for copies of the books reviewed to TSrooker and Keig. booksellers, Devon street.