THE READERS' COLUMN.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LVII, Issue 166, 19 December 1914, Page 6

THE READERS' COLUMN.

WRITERS AND TIIR WAR. (By James Wortlcy.) Though we may have; no great classical poet to-dity, and though some may think that contemporary literature is as decadent as the Germans wish our people were, there have not been wanting writers who have spoken inspiringly, and in a manner worthy of their theme, on the subject matter of the war. Tims William Watson in the Times:— ■ "Had I the fabled herb, That brought to life the dead, Whom would I dare disturb In his eternal bod? ■Great Grenville would I wake And with glad tidings make 1 The soul of mighty Drake ! Lift an exulting head. r Sleep on, 0 Drake, sleep well! I Thou hast thy heart's desire. i Grenville, whom none could quell, Thou dost hand on thy fire, And thou that hadst no peer, i Nelson! Thou needst not fear; ' Thy sons and heirs are here, i Nor shall they shame their sire." Or again, our prose poet, Mr Arnold Bennett, in the Daily News; — "Let us sit down and road history. t Read of Caesar, Attila, of Napoleon. Get our souls full of those pages. Com- | prehend the sublimity of their upheavals. And then force ourselves to rca- ' lise that the page now being written . transcends them all in horror, and importance. We cannot realise it, but we must. The sooner the better. This I thing has happened to us. The realization should induce a solemn state ci ' mind, for which there is no word ex- , cept the word religious. It should stir not only the minor religious virtues of , faith, obedience, fortitude and helpfulness, but the final religious virtue of carefulness about self, Comforts, conveniences, rewards, justice, even life — what are they when the loss of them is calmly risked? Wo may or may not see the end of this thing. The old • ideal may, or may not be as moribund I as we had supposed. What matter? 5 We shall have "lived in an age unparalleled, and human dignity remains. l r~ 1 A REMARKABLE REVELATION. ' *"Tlie Secrets of the rfcrman War Office," by Dr. Armagaanl Graves. New York: Mcliride, Nast and Co.; 1914. ' Australasian agents: Geo. Robertson & Co. This is the personal narrative of a spy who was given a very responsible work , for the German Government, and then, because he had gained so much know- . ledge of the highest Court officials' plans, etc., his masters abandoned him to imprisonment in an alien land for a lengthy period. Like tlie other German plans, it miscarried, and upon proof of the duplicity of the German Secret Service Department, the writer entered the service of England. We learn much of the methods by •\hich the enemy are bo well posted in the details of everything pertaining to the military and naval affairs of our • Empire. In reading, we have a passing - Thought that the employment of a dis- ' {-.runtled German may not be absolutely the best thing, even though he possesses all the knowledge and all power in consequence. NEW NOVELS. f ""Innocent," by Marie Corelli, Lonr don, Rodder and Stougliton. Jlarie Correlli has been described as [ "not nice," and again there are others - who regard her as an amazing jrophetess. In "Innocent," neither role would [ adequately sum up the author, neithsi _ is either suggested. It is a simple tale i of a girl and her ideals, ideals which . are not found where she expected them ! to be. While meanwhile, the living em- ; bodiment of those ideals -stands be- . side her all the time in the person of Robert Clifford, and is never recognis- , ed as such by Innocent, i The book is a delightful, yet pathetic , story of the mind of a voting girl, the i ' thoughts she thinks, tile influence of her environment, and the more pathetic disillusionment which is the worse, be- - cause delayed. "Innocent" is a fondling reared and carefully shielded by Hugo Jocelyn, up to young womanhood, when she learns what there is to know of her birth. During these early years, when Innocent has the run of every nook and corner of tlie dear old Briar Farm, she has idolized the writer of a certain French book, to wit, Sieur Amadis de .Joeelen, an ancester of the present owner of the farm. Robin Clifford lias been making love to Innocent, and with some hope of success, until she finds herself not entitled to the name she has been accustomed to bear. Obsessed with certain ideals gathered from the old French book, she goes out, upon the death of Hugo Jocelyn, to earn and make her way ill tlie world. In this, she is successful in a marked degree. As a brilliant authoress, Innocent is taken at par into most exclusive society, and no questions asked. Al one of the many fiuvctions, she meets an artist of the same name as her old French chronicler, Amadis. In Innocent's fancy, she clothes the twentieth century Amadis with all the splendid 'attributes she supposes the early Jocolin to have had. Like many more, his feet are of clay, and he toys with the wealth of love and devotion which she would lay at his feet. Meantime, Clifford stands oil', patiently waiting for a love that may turn to iiim some day. It does, but the heart of Innocent has been broken, because the Jocelin of fact does not measure up to the Jocelin of fancy. 7t those who know Marie Corelli, only in what we might term her '1 archer moods, this simple storv reveals ' the gifted author -in altogether a different bght, as charming as it may be surprisno' to .some. *"The Last Shot," by Frederick Palmer, New York; Charles iSeribner and Sons. A topical novel, being a story of the present war, and it hideous effect upoi, the persons actually participating in it. done right; up to the minute. So far as the book goes on, is in the latter part prophetic, for it tells of a crushing defeat of the Gray (German) armv, inflicted by the Brown (Allies). ' In the Gallands, we h. lvc described the attitude of a border family whoso wiholo ]if e has been Jived for generations with 'war's rude alarms." True to the instinct of race, Marta, the last of her line, takes a great part in the final battle, a part that could not have been filled by a son, had there been one to represent'the family. Much -water will flow under the bridge, we fear, re "the last shot" is nreu, and the end will not come as this did, but still this war is, as Mr Begbie finely put it:— ... B