I Have just finished reading Will Lawson's second novel, “When Cobb & Co. Was King,” and have enjoyed every line. There is no doubt about the popular New Zealand writer having mastered the art of holding his readers—his experiences as a newspaper man have taught him this. I could glimpse his pen gamely trying to keep up with the rush of his thoughts. For this reason another novelist, less temperamental, would have padded this novel to twice its length. In places the writer often dispenses with necessary paragraphs. All this gives the book that breathless pace in accord with readers’ tastes these breathless days. Will Lawson reveals, too, a great imagination.

But, I have not told you what the novel is about. Is there need? The magic name of Cobb & Co.! The romance of the coaching days; the lure of the bush, the lure of gold; bushrangers, wine, women and song. All the highlights of those brave, bad, bold Australian days, when the cavalcade of coaches run by Cobb & Co. rattled their romantic routes through the country.

Will Lawson has given us the first faithful picture of the part played by a great enterprise in an epic period.

Angus & Robertson (Sydney) are the publishers.

* * *

The annual poem competition held by “Art in New Zealand” has been won by “Robin Hyde.” Commenting on her poem “Aria With Insects,” the editor of the magazine (Mr. C. A. Marris) states that it is further proof of the poet's steady progress in the field of poesy. The article relating to this competition is only one feature of many in the latest issue of the quarterly. On the art side there are two beautiful colour plates by T. A. Mc-Cormack, and of the several reproductions in black and white four are by the same artist. Roland Hipkins and J. C. Beaglehole discuss his work in special articles. Other contributors to the issue include E. D. Gore and Alan C. Browne. There is also an interesting article on the monotypes of K. M. Ballantyne.

George Russell (the famous “A. E.”), who died recently, once paid a great compliment to Pamela Travers. “She is producing,” he states, “some of the most beautiful poetry in Ireland today.” He was also a great admirer of Fritz Hart who set many of his poems to music.

* * *

Steele Rudd, the well known Australian writer who died a few months ago, had a host of fanatic admirers. I heard of one Aussie shearer who had a fight in nearly every shed he worked because some dared to contradict his assertion that Rudd was a better writer than Shakespeare. He was killed in the war but admitted in hospital that he had never read either author, but that “Steele Rudd was a dinkum Aussie and the Shakespeare cow wasn't.”

It is amusing sometimes to observe how “gingerly” English novelists refer to New Zealand when the scope of their plot includes this part of the world. Obviously the vague references are made usually to conceal ignorance. In a book I read recently two of the characters were “crooks” from New Zealand, they lived on a “sheep run” but the author has made them arrive in England per the Aorangi!

* * *

There are only five poems in “End of Day,” a booklet written by R. A. K. Mason, of Auckland, but in them is thought that one would not find in five hundred poems by a poet of smaller mental stature. In his opening Prelude, Mason flourishes his new sword,—

This short straight sword
I got in Rome.

Oh no, the rebel soul of R. A. K. has not turned to Rome, but in this book we can glimpse his spirit seeking. There is new, strange complex music in his lines. The booklet left me wondering.

* * *