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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 10, Issue 3 (June 1, 1935)

A Literary Page or Two

A Literary Page or Two

One day in Sydney, in 1922, I was in “Aussie's” old offices in Kent Street, yarning with Phil Harris, the founder and first editor of that wonderful little magazine, when the door of his room was pushed open and a tall gently swaying figure stuttered an apology.

“Alright, Henry, come in,” said Harris, and “Henry” came in treading carefully as though someone were asleep and was not to be disturbed.

This picture of Henry Lawson leaning through the half open door is in my photographic mind, as I write. The poet rivetted his deep, deep eyes on me as he took a seat in Harris's room. He kept on repeating in his halting way Harris's words of introduction “young fellow from New Zealand.” I left after a few minutes for I could see that Harris and Henry had some private matters to discuss.

I have always regretted the fact that I never met Henry Lawson again. I can never forget his eyes—those striking eyes that revealed something of his great soul. Some years later, when I heard of his death, one of his verses came to me suddenly and irresistibly, as indeed it would to other of his admirers:—

The colours of the setting sun
Withdrew across the Western land—
He raised the sliprails, one by one,
And shot them home with trembling hand.

We in New Zealand must feel proud of the fact that Henry Lawson spent some years here. He was journalist, teacher and painter in this country. The last qualification requires some explanation. Henry was out of a job and the late Mr. Edward Tregear, then Secretary for Labour, secured him a position as a painter on the Public Works staff! Tom Mills, of Fielding, later saw him at work painting a small side door to Government House.

Henry wrote some of his best poems and stories in New Zealand, so we can claim to share with Australia the work of a poet whose name will ever live, and of a story writer who has been classed by St. John Adcock with De Maupassant, Kipling and Bret Harte.

* * *

From every point of view Professor Arnold Wall's recently published book of poems “The Order of Release” (Whitcombe & Tombs, Ltd.) is arrestingly original. The author has composed engaging verse on themes that are new; instead of employing a linotype machine in its printing, he has engaged an artist to letter and decorate his poems, for nearly all of them are bound up in the illustrations. Because he has shattered conventions in all departments, his book simply compels interest. The volume is a delight to read. Perhaps the reader will understand my enthusiasm if I quote only one poem—one of more than three score of sets of verse of sustained excellence. The illustration is of Death, the artist depicting quite a presentable figure beckoning to a placid, dignified old man:—

No sly marauder I,
No thief in darkness creeping
To rifle men's treasure-house
While they lie sleeping.
No ghastly symbol either,
Horribly grinning,
All vast eye-sockets and teeth,
To scare the sinning.
Not that, but a kind attendant,
Near the play's end,
Neither cringing nor haughty,
But like an old friend.
Gently warning
The rapt play-lover
“Sir, the last train's waiting
And the play nearly over.”

A striking bookplate by Russell Clark, the brilliant young Dunedin artist.

A striking bookplate by Russell Clark, the brilliant young Dunedin artist.

* * *

L.B.Q. writes to me as follows:—“Your note in the April ‘Railways Magazine’ regarding the original of Sydney Carton prompted me to draw the attention of our College historian, Mr. F. N. Leckie, to the reported connection between Dickens and Wellington College—Mr. Leckie informs us that it was not Mr. George Allen, a Thorndon boat-builder and sometime Mayor of Wellington, but Mr. Gordon Allan, a leading barrister and solicitor of early Wellington, to whom the reference should have been made. This Mr. Allan acted as Examiner in Languages at the College. It was not until after his death that it came out that he was the original of Dickens' Sydney Carton.”

* * *

In the few months that have elapsed since the appearance of its first issue, “Walkabout,” the Australian travel magazine, has developed into one of the most interesting and artistically produced periodicals published on the other side of the Tasman. Its articles deal with all aspects of life and colour in Australia, New Zealand and the South Seas. In the May issue Eric Ramsden has an article entitled “A Modern Maori Princess.”

* * *