Book Reviews

Abstract

IN an editorial note it is stated that the poacher of these “Confessions” is “no imaginary being.” Since that is so, it might have been well for Mr. Watson to explain the precise nature of his own functions as editor. It seems rather odd to find a poacher talking in this way:— “It was the fact that I had, during the small hours of the morning, stood alone on London Bridge. The great artery of life was still; the pulse of the city had ceased to beat. Although bred among the lonely hills, I felt for the first time that this was to be alone; that this was solitude. I felt such a sense as Macaulay's New Zealander may experience when he sits upon the ruins of the same stupendous structure.” How much of this is the poacher's, and how much are we to attribute to the editor? The same question often suggests itself, and a good many readers, we suspect, will conclude that at least with the form of the “Confessions” the person supposed to be confessing has had very little to do. The book displays a curious and intimate acquaintance with some forms of animal life, and may be of service in fostering a liking for natural history. Unfortunately, however, grammatical rules are not always treated with the respect which is due to them. Says the poacher: “Whilst preparing my nets and wires, the dogs would whine impatiently to be gone.” No doubt the poacher here means that he himself prepared his nets and wires, but what he says is that the dogs prepared them.