THE READER'S COLUMN

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LV, Issue 199, 11 January 1913, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE READER'S COLUMN

(Dy James Wortley). NOTES. The October nuni'ber of the Quiver contains a brightly-written interview with Annie S. Swan, who is spoken of rs the woman writer of the day. who is best able to sustain interest in her new works, and that chiefly by the variety and skill in her plots. The article is illustrated with some capital portraits of this popular author in and about her home.

''Dr. Tuppy," 'by Stephen Townsend, which I reviewed in this column some few weeks ago. is proving a remarkably good se'iler with the publishers, Messrs Hodder and Stoughton.

'■The Collected Verse of Rudvard Kipling" is now being published by Messrs Hodder and Stoughton. The firm report three editions already called for, although copies have not yet been received from the press. It is being published at 20s net in a popu'.ar edition.

Two remarkable books dealing with religious and social problems of Africa have just made their appearance. "Down ir. Darkest Africa" (Smith, Elder and Co.) is a most able volume of travel by that wc'il-known explorer and missionary, Rev. John 11. Harris. He deals very frankly with the question of polygamy and membership of the Christian Church. Although he offers no solution of the problem, he most faithfully records the actual position, and the gravity of the consequences to socia, and domestic life resulting from too high-handed action on the part of missionaries.

'"Veiled mysteries of Egypt, and the Religion of islam" (Eveleigh Nash), by S. 11. Leeder. gives a clear idea of the position .Mohammedanism holds in the civic and domestic life of the peop'.c. By the way, another very lucid book which may well be studied in this connection is "Mohammedanism," by D. S. Margolionth, in the Home University series. SOME RECENT FICTION. "Corporal Cameron." a tale of the North-West Mounted Police, by Ralph Connor, author of "The Sky Pilot." "Black Rock," etc. London. New York and Toronto: Hodder and Stoughton.

If there should be among the readers of this column some old Rugby player?, lot me recommend them to read the opening chapters of this very fine yarn. The admirable description they give us of the finisli of an international match will grip every follower of the game One can please himself about the remaining portion of the book. I went right through it al'i. almost at a sitting, and found it all cqua'ily fine. It is written in Ralph Connor's very best style, and the tale does not halt by the way. Cameron is a line half-back representing Scotland, who through the sinister influence of a bounder named Potts al'iows himself to get out of condition by somewhat riotous living. When in a drunken condition he gets into a mess over a cheque of his father's being altered from live to fifty pounds. Although the evidence is Mack against him, the charge is not proceeded with, principally through the intercession of a niece of 'the bank president (Sir Alexander Brodie). To the relief of everybody, however, o'ul Rae. the family solicitor secures the written confession to tht forgery of Potts, whom the lawyer lia« all along suspected. This absolutely clears Cameron, who again holds up hi head without the shade of suspicion upon him. This better experience over, it seems, as it were, to rehabilitate the morai fibre of the man. who goes forth to seek his fortune in the great northern Dominion. Merc he experiences the varied career of a new-chum to the colonies. The middle of the book is a good deal occupied with a splendid description of farm life, with all its domestic and social aspects. In parts, it might have been written about many a Taranaki farm. There is .the family and the men gathered round the door with a tin br.sm between them to prepare their toi'iet for dinner: the dinner, with its wealth of supply, but little care of the niceties of manner. Again, the eternal wood-chopping for the kitchen range: Tim and Perkins hoeing turnips, ami. most important of all, Mandy, the kindly hearted—nay, great-hearted—lrish girl, with her rough yet eapab'ic management. Then, too, there is the country sports meeting and the winter dances, and going to church on Sunday evenings with vivid pictures of country courtship intermingled. After a bout of typhoid fever at Haley's farm. Cameron gels on to the survey. Here, through a thrilling adventure with whisky-smugglers, he comes in contact with the Nurth-wes! Mounted Police, for which he conceives i such a whole-souled admiration thai nothing short of joining them will Mif- ' fice. The relation of some further adventures as a constable, and the happy consummation of his love all'air. bring us to the end of a thoroughly enjoyable and 'healthy story.

'The Adventures of Bobby Orde," by Stewart Edward White, author of ■•Arizona Nights." -The Mazed Trail." etc. London: T. Fisher Unwin.

A surprise is in store for anyone who takes up Stewart White's new book. So far '\ve have the tn'ie of the lumbermen, with their booms and river and mills and great pine forests. In ''Bobby Orde" we have still the booms and the al fresco picnic of the mill hands, hut otherwise i'. is a careful and delicate'.y lined-ouf picture of a boy. and of his outlook upon life. Very tenderly, yet with the firm, certain hand of a master who knows his subject, we have Bobby Ordc set before us. How Bobby learns to handle a gun witli the assistance of his .friend, the veteran sportsman. Mr. Kincaid. is well to'.d. ami will delight other boys to read. Xolie the less natural is his child courtship of Cclia {..'arluton. In the course of the story Mr. Kincaid speaks some very good advice for young folk. After a bachelor men'i at the shooting cabin we have this little colloquy: "Now. dishes!" said Mr. Kincaid, "will you wash or wipe. Bobby;" "MY. I'm fill'.!" said Bobby, in the way of indirect expostulation against immediate activity. "The time to wash dishes is right away." said Mr. Kincaid briskly. "They wash easier, and when they're done you have a comfortable feeling that there is nothing more to he done—and a clear conscience." Again, in another chapter: "If you're going to be a hunter." went on Mr. Kincaid' after a moment, -'you're going to have '.ots of (old work, and hard work, and disagreeable work to do—things you can't finish ina minute, either, but that mav last all day. or all the week. And vou",l have to do if. If you get (o thinking how long its going to take, you'll lind that you will have a rough 'time, and that probacy it won't be done well, either. Don't- think of how much there is still to do; think of how much you have done. . . . Xow pick up (lie decoys—one at a time. Don't -begin to pick up the next till you have this one out of (he water." Sot, h dull page anywhere m the volume. It provides good' enter- J tamment for boys, ant! .helps those who J have forgotten their'youth to. a better | knowledge of the- younsflfcind.

"The Old Xest," by Hupert Hughes. London: Hodder'and Stoughton. I This book is, if one may judge from' its very purposeful inscription and compilation gencral'.y, 1111 c of those which, from the author's standpoint, just had to be written. In a very plain, straightforward little tale, we have the story of a dear old father and a beautiful mother, who lind themselves at Wist, left alone in the home, that has once sheltered so many rowdy boys and laughing girls. One 'by one they have made their way into the world, and each ha* achieved position in life. Each is too busy, also, to give that thought and consideration to the old links that they deserve. Without a shade of whimpering or, repining, we have pictured the old doctor going his rounds as usual and excusing his "specialist" son for failing to visit the old home. And likewise the mother, when night, comes, and reminds her how she used to tuck them in at night after hearing them say "Gentle Jesus," wonders that Kate and Emily are doing—wb.i'ie Kate in New York is rushed with keeping abreast of social engagements, and forgets mother's birthday for half-a-dozen years miming. And Emily—Emily is honeymooning in Paris i and has no time to send anything hut a picture postcard with "Here's where we're staying. Love. Em." At last Tom wakes up to the enormity of his thoughtlessness, and stirs the other children to mend their ways. The whole message of the book- is slimmed up in a sentence from the epilogue: "If your mother still lives, write her a letter or send a long telegram saying. "I am well. lam thinking of you and 1 want you to know how much 1 love you.'' Mr. Hughes deserves the thanks of every man who is a son. and every woman who is a daughter, for calling their urgent attention to a duty the practice of which cannot be too highly esteemed or too forcibly enjoined—the 'iOve and reverence of father and mother given practical expression in little attentions which light up, like the sun at noon, the road to the last anchorage, making the channel glitter and shimmer with the brightness.

'The Joyous • Adventures of Aristide? Pujol." by William J. Loke. London: John Lane, the Bodley Head, MCMXIL

The hero of a large number of curious adventures is a whimsical character such as we should never have thought of—yet immediately we are acquainted with Aristidcs we say, ''Just such a character as Mr. Locke would create" Mr. Aristides Pujol is a very clever, cheery bounder, whom in a sub-conscious way, one comes 16 like, even while despising his many questionable actions. The various adventures are strung together by a somewhat light story. It is a book that will while away an"hour or two's tedious railway journey, but nothing equal to "Septimus," or "The Glory of Clementina Wing," in either conception or construction.

(Hooks for review were forwarded us from the B.K. Bookshop, Devon St.)