The times., 1901-05-19
Recent Fiction.

I 4
Recent Fiction.
! "The Wisdom of Esau." by C. II.
Chomley and r. NJ Outhwaite. is a story
of the Australian bush. the literature of
which is becoming quite considerable.
| There is certainly as much material for
| fiction in the big islands of the Southern
| Pacific, as ever in California in the days
| of Bret Harte's glory, but the trouble
| seems to have been thus far that all the
| people were too busy conquering the land
| to look at it from a literary point OF
| view. Now, however novels are being
written with the early or later history of
| Australia as a background. and of the
! half dozer or so which have appeared on
| this side of the water in the last two
years this is decidedly the best. There
! is in it more of the atmosphere of the
| country than in any of its predecessors;
the authors make one feel the majesty
| of the primeval forests of Australia and
| the half-tamed power of the pioneers.
| There is a good deal of squalor. for some
! reason or other, mixed with the romance
| of Australia: one misses the glamor of the
! Argonauts and the picturesque wicked
| ness of Calaveras and Poker Flat. The
/ sin in Australia is not so very different
| from that of Whitechapel; that Of San
| Francisco was essentially different from
the vice of the Bowery. Ii may be that
| the American emigrant, coming largely
| from good stock, even when it had gone
wrong, and having ingrained within him
| respect for good women and love of home,
even when not associated with either in
his rough and adventurous daily life had
within him a capacity for romance which
/ is not the birthright of the English cock
ney or even the peasant of Yorkshire or
Lancashire; but at any rate. there is moth
ing romantic about the scaIawags of this
/ book; they are no Jack Hamlins Ken
lucky Bills and one cannot imagine a
Miggles devoted to any one Of them.
The authors of this book have dealt
mainly with the conflict between the
squatters and the homestead men One
of the difficulties encountered by many
poor settlers who went to Australia in the
hope of taking up land was that the mon
eyed men would pre-empt large tracts,
hire dummies to represent them in the
balloting, and thus become possessed of
all the best land, while the small farmer
was driven to the timber-clad tracts
where II would take him a good part of
the first few years of his occupation TO
get the soil in even fair condition for the
raising of crops. Then, by the mortgage
system. the land was gradually drawn
into the hands of the large land owners
and money lenders, so that the English
man who left his farm in the old country
because he was disgusted with tenant
farming and wanted home of his own
found himself in much the same condition
as before, obliged to rent his home, with
all the discomforts and hardships Of life
in a new country and years of wasted
labor and money to add bitterness to his
lot.
A piece of description worth reproducing
for the picture which it gives of the Aus
tralian bush is the page telling Of the
wedding journey of the hero and his wife
"a journey from the church at Tonga
long to the little cabin some miles distant
in the forest:
THE sun had set when they reached
the gap on the hills over which the
road runs to the Upoer Valley of the
Ionga, ana Ioland vas glad to have
some daylight left to show him the
dangers of the track, the descent be-
ing sharp grade on a narrow side
cutting, with the hill to the right and
a sheer drop to the left. They reached
the bottom in safety as the gloom of
night was deepening, with ten miles of
2 bush track through heavy timber be-
tween them and home. Soon, how
ever, they caught a glimpse Of the
moon rising blood-red amongst the
to throw bands OF light and dark
shadows across the track. Toland had
to drive even more carefully now, for
the multitudinous lights and shades
made everything appear mystic and
unreal. Time passed, ald the miles
that separated them from their jour
ney's end-the resting ace that was
to be theirs for life. The moon had
risen; the everyday world had disap-
peared, shut out by the trees that
arched themselves overhead in a lofty
awning on which the dew sparkled like
diamonds, when the night wind ruStied
the leaves. In front the road looked
like a dark tunnel, pierced here and
there with shafts of light that turned
to giant ghosts the white gums that
rose on either side. Here and there
glImpSes could be obtained of distant
ranges rising TO the sky-huge rugged
barriers against the outer world, mute,
impenetrable, everlasting. The gullies
that they crossed looked like fairy
dels, the fronds of the fern trees
sparked like jeweled plumes, the
trickling water seemed the hushed
laughter of elves. No sound of life
broke the silence; the spell of some
enchantment seemed laid upon the
forest.
Then Ruth, herself being unstrung,
pressed closer TO her husband. and the
pressure of her body broke the spell
for him. He bent and kissed her, and
with that kiss fled the ghosts and the
spectres. What was the wilderness
now to him but the scene of conquests
to come? The gaunt trees were his foes
and he was to lay them low. He lived,
and they must die so that his children
should inherit the ground that they
encountered.
He began TO sing a song Of northern
lands; he called 10 his horses and
cracked the whip over their backs: he
laughed low to himself and he kissed
his wife again"
This idyllic scene stands out all the
more vividly in contrast with the squaid
struggle which follows. CNew York: Cas-
sell &s Coz
"Mononia," by Justin Mccarthy, is de |
scribed by its author as "a love story of !
forty eight" 1t is fun OF Irish atmos-