BOOKS.

A L-kND OF ENCHANTMENT.*

We are deeply grateful to Lady Clifford, wife of the Governor of the Gold Coast and the delighter of many a novel-reader as Mrs. de la Pasture, for the quaint and charniing book entitled Our Lays, which she has edited and produced with the aid of the Government Printing Office at Accra--a work, by the way, which is issued in aid of the Red Cress. As a rule books produced for such good purposes have, to be frank, more of charity than of literature about them. This is not the case with Lady Clifford's hook. It is simply cram-full of delightful things. And first, the pictures. These show the Gold Coast to be a land of high romance, which is, in a sense, a wonder, for one does not associate romance with the Tropics. But who could deny romance to the happy Governor who has four or five castles to livein, one of which, Christiansborg Castle, reminds us exactly of a stage direction in Hamlet, " Scene: The Platform at Christiansborg Castle. Lady Clifford discovered. To her enter Local Ghost. She orders black sentry of Gold Coast Regiment to strike it with butt end of rifle." We are not befooling out readers. Christiansborg is a true Danish castle, though the surf that beats its rock-bound battlements is the surf of the South Atlantic and the flag over it is the Union flag. It was built originally by the Danes on land bought from Portugal come sixty years after Shakespeare had made Elsinore a house- hold word to the English-speaking race. Then the Portuguese got it back, but sold it again to the Danes, from whom, alter several other vicissitudes, it passed to us in 1849 for a cool ten thousand. The architecture as shown in Lady Clifford's book is captivating in a high degree. We have only one criticism to make, and that is that the Bastion at Christiansborg, of which • Oar Days on the Gold Coed, In Ashanti, is the Northern Tessileries, end ilra lirthea Sydow, of owspsuen in Throated. Edited by Lady CRAW& C.B.E. Petaled and Produced by Mr. Charles Fairweather and his MAL to tae Govern- swat Prlutleg Office at Accra. fa aid of the Red Croat there are two fascinating pictures, ought to be rechristened " the Platform." The Government House at Accra has got some rather attractive modem buildings, which we take to be of reinforced concrete. In any ease they are by no means dis- creditable to their designer, though they cannot for a moment compare with things so enchanting as the entrance to Christ- iansborg Castle. There we see a huge straight wall, quite blank except for the uppermost story, which has a series of small arched windows, and above them again and just below the parapet loopholes for rifle-fire. In the centre of the wall half-way up is a round arch. Above it ie a monogram with the date 1730. On each side of the arch are two high pillars with pine-cones on them, very much like those we see at the gates of a squire's park. Beyond this juts out a small semi-circular platform with a noble flight of steps leading clown to the ground, flanked by two tall lamp-posts, such as may be seen outside Buckingham Palace. The effect is quite admirable, and we recommend it to any designer of stage decoration who wants a striking backcloth for a carpenter's scene.

But this by no means exhausts the Gold Coast castles. F.Imina Castle, though its position is not quite so romantic, architecturally knocks out even Christiansborg. The general view, entitled " Elmina Castle, 1918," is immensely attractive, while the " Courtyard of Elmina Castle," with its delightful group of stair- cases, will be a joy to all who care for architectural effects produced by the simplest possible means. The data is also apparently the early pert of the eighteenth century. Very delightful, too, is the entrance to Elmina Castle.

After admiring Elmina, it is very difficult to look with un- prejudiced eyes upon the courtyard of Cape Coast Castle, though it was built by the English in 1662, or to enjoy the con- crete eplendonrs of the new Secretariat at Accra. No doubt it is infinitely more wholesome and convenient than the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century buildings, but into what fine air has the sense of beauty evaporated I Before we leave the pictures we must note the photograph of the Durbar held by the Governor in 1916. It is an ordinary Colonial Durbar picture, except for the fact, duly noted by Lady Clifford and pathetically visible in the plate, of the presence of " the graves of L. K L. and her husband, Governor Maclean." Two little oblongs of stone or cement, rather vaguely scattered on the sand in front of a Government building, are all that remainto call to mind the woman who stirred the emotions of the world in the thirties" and "forties." Lovers of Early Victorian literature and readers of such books as The Casket and The Keepsake will remember who " L. E. L." was and her tragic fate.

And now we come to the letterpress of Our Days, not less delightful than the pictures of which we have spoken. Lady Clifford had the happy inspiration of starting an essay competition in aid of the Red Cross in 1918. She asked "all it might concern" to write a short essay or story on a day in the writer's life on the Coast. The Governor judged the essays and awarded the prizes. Any one who thinks that because these essays were prize competitions they must be dull and jejune is entirely mistaken. No doubt they would have been so in England, but on the Gold Coast everything is contrari- wise. We are not going to quarrel with His Excellency's decision as to First, Second, and Thiel Prizes—first, because he was appointed judge, and next, because by right of conquest Sir Hugh Clifford knows all there is to be known about short stories. We are bound to say, however, that in our opinion the essays and stories written by the natives are a great dealmore attract- ive than those by the Europeans. What moves us immensely ie the short paper entitled " From Lawyer's Office to Chief's Stool." This is the ingenuous story of a young man of Chieftain's blood who had been called to the Bar and had the right to wear a wig and gown, but was suddenly summoned to take up the burden and responsibility of chieftainhood. As introduction we may say that the " stool " on the Gold Coast means the Chief's stool or throne. We most also quote Lady Clifford's editorial note :— " At 9.36 a.m., just as I was censuring the cook for want of punctuality on his part, the Akuapem Stool-mother,.

" • Editor's Note.—To those not conversant with Native Customs In West Africa it may be explained that the Chiefs of the Tribes are elected from the sons of a female descendant, enter or daughter of the Ruling family (or families) of a tribe. The Stool mother I. the Senior Lady of the Ruling Molly oho hoe the privilege of presenting to the Elden of the Tribe the male relative she regard. as most suitable for election to the Stool. The Elders elect him or not as they choose; if they do not, she may West another relative, or If she reform, they elent a Chief of their own choice from those eligible. The son of a Chief hoe so distinctive mat, nor is he eligible for election to his father's stool, WHO; descends ...hal.clY through the female has." accompanied by three counsellors, called upon me, end laying her hand tenderly on my shoulder, she said, as tears welled up in her ajmipathetio eyes ' My dear son, I know you have devoted yourself to the legal profession, which is un, doubtedly honourable. but. I have some to ask you to become the property and the slave of your country. I do not demand any answer from you, for we have considered all sides of the question, and we find we cannot spars you at this moment. Do not be selfish, my son I' To me this most Unexpected address carried with it, as indeed it did, great perplexity and marked the day as the most eventful of my life. I was in my lath year. I had been a legal practitioner for about ten menthe, not without a fair amount of felicity, and if my forecasts were destined to materialize, I had great hopes for higher prospects at the Bar. . . . I once considered the date of my call to the Bar as very noteworthy, but that fact (of my being called at all) is now considered by many to be unfortunate. On the other hand we may learn from the memorable speech of the Stool-mother and its result the following truths concerning Akuapem native character and customs 1. Family obligations and tmditione are held sacred by all members whatever their individual positions and advantages might be. 2. The strict recognition of family obligations has the happy result of keeping every true native clear of pauperism.

°foci Kunia' Outanhene of Akuapern."

We do not know whether Hums made a good barrister or whether he is making a good Chief, but we feel quite sure that if things had gone that way he might with a little training have made an admirable novelist or writer of short stories.

Here is another example of what the educated native can do in short, sharp, picturesque narrative :-

" ON THE MARCH TO Bout, 1917. • Ten o'clock on a dark hot night during the dry season, the column, on its forced march, feels its way through the close and stuffy bush. The silence is unbroken. save for the monotonous padpad of bare feet, the creaking of head loads, and an occasional clatter as someone stumbles in the dark, We carry no lights. Every two hours a abort halt, then onwards, the sweat raining off one, until the firstsigh of the dawn wind brings relief. At sun- rise we halt in a village, reported to be hostile. Here, all food and water must be tasted fleetby the inhabitants for fear of poison. Then off again in the cool of the morning. But as the sun gets hotter our men in full marching order, with two hundred murals in their pouches, begin to flag. Built like a fort another village appears. It seems to be deserted, but we can hear drmne beating. Under a huge baobab tree outside the village, arms are ',fled, sentries are posted, and we sit down to rest in the shade. But what is this murmuring, suddenly breaking into excited mice. One section is on its feet and rushing peat us do wild confusion. The remainder of the square beating the air wildly , with their hands, not waiting to pick up their rifles, bolt after their comrades amidst ehoute of Knoell Zona. Humming like an aeroplane, a swarm of furious bees swoop. down on us, forcing the officers to retreat hastily into the bush followed by a yell of derisive laughter from the inhabitants who have now appeared on the walls. What will they do I Our plight seems senoue. The men, weaponlese, many in agony, are scattered everywhere. Some, in vain endeavour to escape further punish- ment, are hiding their heads ostrich fashion, regardless of the rest of their anatomy. Catch the Chief and his fetish man,' begs the native Sergeant-Major. ' Stop the drums beating, and the bees will go back.' Luckily our sentries are still armed, and en.isy.urecsationary measure, the European Sergeant-Major and taking three, race for the town. Loud crashes cause one to look round. It is the carriers just coming in, dropping their loads, as they dive for cover from the infuriated bees. Dropping over the wall, almost on top of the Chief and his people who are holdings palaver, we have him and his ietiab man outside ' one time.' There is an angry murmur from the crowd_ But therearguard has arrived and is covering our retreat,. We put our hostages under guard. Then nailing for volunteers we lead them in under the baobab. ' Don't retaliate' ie the order. On reaching the tree, each man seizes an armful of rifles and bolte back hell-for-leathor. Some are again stung, which accelerates their speed. Armed, we reform square and sit down a safe distance away in the bush. The Chief assures us that his people will not attack and we release our hostage. It is now afternoon, and the bees quieting down, we round up the carriers, and return to the village. Every one not on duty is slumbering, when a messenger arrives to say that the rebels have, that morning, surrendered. The show is over. Dis- gusted we resume our slumbers. Our labour has been in vain, but anyhow we know eomething about bees. So did MAIMAIET when be said in his Sues the Bun If ye make reprisals then make them to the same extent thatye were injured, but if ye can endure patiently, best will it be for the patiently enduring.' Kunkures ban kusu, the tale is told.

Maishaidar Ida."

We wish we could quote "A Surveyor in the War-Path," but since we cannot quote everything it must give way to the very amusing but somewhat obvious Babu essay entitled " Lite- Saving on the Coast" :—

" On returning from a School Vacation after when I had visited an Uncle of some at Adds, it befell my lot to travel hoc a on the as. ' Agberi ; (the very first occasion on which I had chance of travelling on a ship). When the ship came in, c. gent to the beach in order to catch the first boat that na,,ilt leave ; fortunately I met one which I soon joined. Before the boat left ashore to the distance of about SO-100 yards, I had already been attacked with Sea Sick of a serious nature— vomiting ensued. The boasom ' ordered that I should lie down quietly in the boat. This I no sooner did. Not long after a huge ware came along the boat, pushed it hither and thither which rendered every possibility of surviving extremely hopeless. The Sea Sick was at this time indescribably worse than ever. On coming near the Ship when the Captain had already seen me of the condition in which I was, he at once shouted f No sick allowed on board, better go back to the Shore ' ; all of a sudden !raised up my head and voice and ejacu- lated, ' No Sir, I be strong, I am going to Accra.' I heard nothing more from the captain—found him going to his ' room.' I had now to climb up the ship ; I found it an absolute impos- sibility to do so—the whole system of mine had became tempo- rarily nervous. I attempted holding the rope leading to the deck, the result of this was utterly disastrous ; it slipped from my hands, simultaneously the boat dashed away under me, dropped into the Sea in full gravity. Immediately one of the boatmen fell himself into the Sea after me, picked me up in an instant, and with the valuable assistance of one of his friends, I was again drawn back in the boat. (A very philanthropic action.) Ulti- mately another plan was approved for my conveyance aboard. I was tied round the back of one of them with a piece of cloth (as our native women use to do) who climbed up the ship with amazing rapidity. I was now on board at last. Great was my surprise and joy on finding myself located in this far-reaching microcosm, still alive with every confidence of revivification. Next morning I reached Accra, landed in safety with much en- thusiasm, made my way home domestically full of indefinable felicity. . . . E. 0. S. 0."

Another story in the same vein is entitled " Visit to a Planter." It is by a native official :— After a couple of hours trekking we arrived at our destination and there a hearty welcome from the cheery and optimistic planter awaited us. He insisted upon us accepting his regal hospitality before we proceeded to our official duties. Bearing in mine my friend s sly dig at me, the regal hospitality was not refused. We then proceeded to discuss everything except our official business, and it was only when we quietly hinted that a visit to the planta- tion would appear desirable that the fact at last dawned upon our host that the conscientious Government Officers really meant business. The plantation was soon reached, but what a dis- appointment was in store for us ! The hopeful views of the planter did not coincide with our opinions, and on being told so, he began on a new track to endeavour to prove to his own and our satis- faction that there was untold wealth only waiting to be gathered. It is a wonderful country the Cold Coast, the land of bright hopes but shattered dreams. It is the cheery optimist in our midst who whiles away many dreary days and hours. He is never happy unless expounding upon what he is going to do. The land of shattered dreams and ambitions however remains. On returning to the Bungalow our host insisted upon us remain- ing for lunch, and notwithstanding our adverse opinion of his plantation, he was still cheery. The best of food and wine was spread out for us. All Went well with the lunch until the coffee was ' passed.' Our host rather prided himself upon his native- grown coffee and the making thereof. Being of a curious frame of mind we enquired how the coffee was made. He called his steward and in a stern voice said Tell them big Master how you snake them coffee, Kwesi.' Kweei replied Master I boil them water, then I put coffee in.' The boy hesitated and the master to encourage him said ' Well what then.' The boy replied ' Then I strain him.' Further encouragement being necessary his master said ' Strain him, what with.' The boy's reply was ' A sock.' At this the master, who had hitherto been beaming and smiling, jumped up from the table and made to seize the boy. The boy bolted, but soon a small voice was heard saying,

• Master, I beg you, I beg you, it no be clean sock.' . . . Kinlje."

We do not want people to suppose that the whole of the stories arc given up either to sentiment or to farce. Very striking is the story entitled " A Day of My Life in Camerun," written by a Togoland Chief. It bears all the marks of truth and sincerity about it, and incidentally gives a terrible picture of what German rule meant for the natives.

When one reads such stories one cannot help understanding, and to some extent sympathizing with, those of our officials who find it rather hard to be told that we cannot be trusted to administer territory with fairness to the native races if we are left alone, and must therefore be made mandatories of a League of Nations which is to include Portugal, Brazil, and the rulers of the Congo Free State! However, we admit that we have good conscience enough not to worry about any precautions so un- necessary as he mandtate. The mandate cannot make us care- less in our trust, and, speaking widely and for the Empire as a whole, more careful we cannot be. That this is so we can find no better witness than Lady Clifford's Our Daya. Every true Imperialist should be grateful to her for this unconscious certifi- cate of character. Let us hope that it may fall into the hands of some of our American kinsmen who are being secretly told by the disseminators of the German poison that we are hypocrites,

and treat with cruelty and injustice " those Africans whom it has pleased God to commit to our charge."