"The First Violin" was the spontaneous record of an experience which had fired and inspired the author's whole nature; while "Probation" is the more prosaic product of a deliberate and conscious choice of an "effective subject" for a story, which might stimulate the author's imagination, indeed, but which could hardly touch her feelings very profoundly. And this difference tells throughout, to the disadvantage of the later story. Myles Heywood is but a pallid and impersonal sort of figure in comparison with the picturesque and fascinating Eugen Courvoisier, and none of the characters in "Probation have that intense vitality which gives a sort of objective realism to those of the earlier story. Nor are the circumstances and incidents of the one story so pleasing as those of the other. The complications which in "The First Violin" exemplified the truth that the course of true love never runs smooth, only deepened the romantic charm of the work; but one feels that the agony of a starving people is too tremendous a fact to form part of the mere machinery of a love-story. We should observe, however, that such faults as we have pointed out are conspicuous only when we compare the story with "The First Violin," which we spoke of at the time of its appearance as a very remarkable beginning for an author. Compared with the average of current fic tion, "Probation" is deserving of very high praise, both for its interest as a story and for its skill as a composition.

There is nothing in the new volume of the "NoName Series" quite so clever as its title,* unless it be the quotation from Coleridge which forms its motto: "I once knew a man who had advanced to such a pitch of self-esteem that he never mentioned himself without taking off his hat." The story itself contains many striking passages and several effective "situations," but it bears about the same relation to a finished work of art that a corduroy road does to a macadamized highway. Of plot, or sequence, or consistency, there is next to nothing; and at the close of the book the story simply ends without coming to a conclusion. The author's idea of novelmaking appears to be that the prime necessity is a number of dramatic incidents or tableaux, which may be flashed upon the reader under the full glare of calcium lights. Whether these incidents are consecutive to each other, or are the natural outgrowth of what has gone before, is a matter of minor importance; and, in fact, they seem to be arranged upon the principle that the interesting is the unexpected. And so of the characters. Some extreme, unusual, abnormal type is chosen, and then, in order to set it off most effectively, it is contrasted with its exact antithesis, which is as extreme and abnormal in the other direction. But even this is not stimulating enough, and accordingly on every critical occasion these characters are represented as doing the precise thing which it could never be conjectured that they should do, and as changing rôles with the fantastic

facility of a transformation scene. The author would doubtless repudiate the suggestion, but we are compelled to think that his story is as exciting and unwholesome in its way as the sensational preaching which he so vigorously satirizes. To turn from it to a simple and realistic record of every-day life will affect the reader like sipping gruel after a draught of brandy-and-soda; and this not because the gruel is essentially insipid, but because the palate has been unnaturally and unhealthily stimulated. Yet it must be admitted that the book asserts itself and compels attention. There are several situations that are wonderfully dramatic and intense; the portrait of Thirlmore, the popular preacher, will inevitably set readers to searching for the original among several well-known men; and there are two or three farmhouse scenes which are as genuine and real as any other faithful transcript from nature.

"

In complete contrast with the preceding is Mrs. Mulock-Craik's "Young Mrs. Jardine," a love-story of the most correct and conventional type, with a good young man, a very good young lady, a cruel mamma and worldly sisters, much interpolated moralizing about "duty" and "right" and "patience and "gentlemanliness," struggles against the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, and a most satisfactory fulfillment of all the requirements of poetic justice. The story itself descends perilously near the level of commonplace, and, if anything were needed to drag it down and anchor it there, it is amply supplied by the illustrations. Of the way in which pictures can fetter and vulgarize the imagination instead of aiding it, we have seldom seen a better example.

SOME of the most characteristic portions of the "Memoirs of Madame de Rémusat "* having already appeared in this "Journal," we are absolved from the duty of describing them in detail; but, in enjoying the entertainment which their piquant personalities afford, the reader might easily overlook the fact that these Memoirs are likely to be reckoned among the most important literary productions of our time. Hitherto the Memoirs of Saint-Simon have held a unique and special place in literature, and their interest will last as long as any curiosity is felt regarding the doings of the Grand Monarch and his court; but Madame de Rémusat's Memoirs are equally frank, equally graphic, and equally pungent, while they have the advantage of dealing with a personality and an epoch infinitely more picturesque and significant. Napoleon has been the subject of an entire literature, and there is probably no figure in history that has impressed itself so vividly upon the popular imagination; but, while we have been ren

Young Mrs. Jardine. A Novel. By the author of Brothers. 16mo, pp. 414. "John Halifax, Gentleman." New York: Harper &

+ Memoirs of Madame de Rémusat, 1802-1808. With a Preface and Notes by her Grandson, Paul de Rémusat. Translated from the French by Mrs. Cashel Hoey and

Appleton & Co. 8vo, pp. xlviii.-178.

dered more than sufficiently familiar with the emperor and the general, it has been reserved for Madame de Rémusat to reveal to us the man. Considering the hackneyed character of the subject, it would seem impossible that any new Napoleonana (if we may coin a word) could possess much freshness or novelty; yet we feel, in reading Madame de Rémusat's pages, that we have never really known Napoleon before never succeeded in penetrating beneath that invincible reserve and that theatrical posturing and parading which deceived his most intimate associates at the time, and which have baffled the curiosity of two generations of historical inquirers.

We have already said that Madame de Rémusat has the advantage of Saint-Simon in the greater interest and picturesqueness of her subject; and we may add that she has equally the advantage of him in her method of treating it. Curiously striking and piquant as many portions of Saint-Simon's Memoirs are, there are whole chapters, whole volumes, of them with which all save the historical student would cheerfully dispense; but we doubt if Madame de Rémusat will ever find a reader who will wish her book shorter by even a phrase. The very defects of her style—its lack of that artificial brilliance and self-conscious grace which are so highly esteemed by her countrymen-lend only an additional attraction to her Memoirs. The first and indispensable requirement of such writings is that they should convey the impression of being faithful, accurate, and sincere; and the confidence of the reader is entirely won by the simplicity, the directness, and the unstudied easy flow of Madame de Rémusat's style. Its very simplicity and ease, indeed, will be apt to betray the reader into under-estimating the author's art and skill. It is rare that such keen observation is combined with so impartial a judgment and such sensitive sympathies; but Madame de Rémusat is quite as successful in portraying what she sees as she is in seeing and comprehending, and several of her sketches in the preliminary chapter entitled "Portraits and Anecdotes " are worthy of being compared in fidelity if not in finish with any that have been produced by the greatest masters of the art.

Besides the introductory chapter mentioned above the book contains a prefatory essay of nearly fifty pages by M. Paul de Rémusat, grandson of the author, in which he briefly narrates the life of Madame de Rémusat prior to her arrival at court, and sketches in the background against which her recollections are to be projected. This essay, in spite of its touching occasionally upon controversial politics, is eminently useful and interesting; and the same may be said of the notes which the same author has supplied. A series of Appendices supplements and illustrates the text; and the Memoirs will at once take a highperhaps the highest-place among those curious and instructive volumes which take us behind the scenes in the great drama of history and show us the actors en famille.

WHILE Madame de Rémusat contents herself with lifting the veil which obscures our view of the lead

"at

ing actors upon the stage of history, Mr. John T. Short, in his "North Americans of Antiquity," tempts to penetrate that “dark backward and abysm of time" which lies behind history itself, and to decipher for us such traces as remain of those ancient and vanished peoples who occupied our continent prior to the advent of Columbus. In spite of the difficulties which attend the effort to elucidate these dark problems, he thinks that "the age of North American antiquity is not all darkness, but on the contrary is rapidly growing radiant with light”; and the constantly increasing interest felt in all archeological questions has led him to believe that a work embodying the latest information regarding the origin, migrations, and life of the races of American antiquity "would meet with the favorable attention of the public and of the specialist in this field."

Perhaps the most distinctive feature of Mr. Short's book, in comparison with others in the same field, is that it is written, as he says, in "the spirit of inquiry rather than of advocacy," and is "the embodiment of an honest search for the truth." Most of the previous writers upon ancient America have had some hypothesis to verify or some theory to defend, and as a general thing have dealt far more extensively in speculation than in fact. Mr. Hubert Howe Bancroft was almost the first archeologist who addressed himself to the subject in the spirit of impartial criticism, and with the tests of severe scientific analysis; and Mr. Short has followed loyally in his footsteps, viewing the facts from a somewhat different standpoint, and consequently reaching somewhat different conclusions. The extent to which they differ in their interpretations is the measure of the uncertainty which, in spite of the recent activity in archæological inquiry and research, still hangs about the most elementary questions involved in the problem; yet that there is some ground for Mr. Short's sanguine anticipations is shown by the fact that, during the few years that have elapsed since the publication of Mr. Bancroft's work, several of the riddles which had previously baffled the ingenuity of antiquarians have been finally and satisfactorily solved. And if, as Mr. Short confidently asserts, a key has at last been found to the Maya hieroglyphics, then there can be no doubt that we are on the eve of discoveries which will reveal to us at least as much concerning those ancient civilizations and peoples whose relics cover our continent as is known of the similar antiquities of Europe.

Mr. Short's book will be especially acceptable to the general reader, because it is a summary or compend of all the knowledge that has been gained concerning prehistoric America, and because it is a sort of index to the works of all previous writers-directing the reader to the precise page and book where he may find such further information upon any given topic as he may desire to obtain. In this latter respect it is less exhaustive than Mr. Bancroft's

* The North Americans of Antiquity. Their Origin, Migrations, and Type of Civilization considered. By John T. Short. New York: Harper & Brothers. 8vo, pp. 544.

great work; but for that very reason it will better answer the purposes of those readers whose opportunities are restricted to the better known and more accessible authorities. Its special value for students lies in the fact that it brings together the results of those investigations which have been prosecuted with unprecedented ardor during the past four or five years, and which have been unusually fruitful. The cliff-dwellings of the West and the ruins at Aztec Springs open up new problems to the American archeologist, and wonderful progress has been made in the accumulation of data regarding the ancient Mound-builders. Most of this later information has been gathered by Mr. Short from the Smithsonian Reports, the Reports of the Geological and Geographical Survey of the Territories, the proceedings of scientific societies, private memoirs, and other sources little known and not easy of access.

The author's method of treatment is systematic and thorough, and his style is simple but clear and picturesque. The volume is copiously and admirably illustrated, with many cuts not previously seen in books of the kind.

THE latest addition to "English Men of Letters" is "John Milton," by Professor Mark Pattison.* The author remarks at the outset that of Milton we know more personal details than of any man of letters of the seventeenth century, and that in Professor Masson's "Life of Milton we have the most exhaustive biography that was ever compiled of any Englishman. "My excuse," he adds, “for attempting to write of Milton after Mr. Masson is that his life is in six volumes octavo, with a total of some four to five thousand pages. The present outline is written for a different class of readersthose, namely, who can not afford to know more of Milton than can be told in some two hundred and fifty pages." The work with which Professor Pattison's will most naturally be compared is Mr. Stopford Brooke's little monograph on Milton in the series of "Classical Writers," and the two really complement each other. Professor Pattison is fuller in biographical details; Mr. Brooke offers more of interpretative criticism and commentary. Of Milton's life and minor writings the reader will learn most from Professor Pattison; but, as a guide to the study or reading of Milton's great poetical masterpieces, Mr. Brooke is incomparably more helpful and adequate. A work upon which much labor has been expended, and which ought to prove edifying to a very large circle of readers, is "Lives of the Leaders of our Church Universal," + containing brief

* English Men of Letters. Edited by John Morley. John Milton. By Mark Pattison. New York: Harper & Brothers. 16m0, pp. 215.

Lives of the Leaders of our Church Universal, from the Days of the Successors of the Apostles to the Present Time. The Lives by European Writers from the German, as edited by Dr. Ferdinand Piper. Now translated into English, and edited, with added Lives by

biographies of one hundred and twenty-five of the most eminent Christians of all countries and denominations from the days of the successors of the Apostles to the present time. The bulk of the work is translated from a similar collection in German, edited by Dr. Ferdinand Piper, and written by eminent German, French, and English scholars; but Dr. Maccracken, the American editor, has added biographies of thirty Americans of the various denominations, and also of the most famous missionaries in foreign lands. The American lives, like the European, are written by eminent scholars; and the book as a whole is a valuable contribution to that somewhat meager department of theological literature which is equally interesting and edifying to the whole body of Christian readers.

Mr. Towle has shown excellent judgment in selecting the subjects for his "Young Folks' Heroes of History." The first two volumes were devoted respectively to Vasco de Gama and Pizarro, and have been noticed in previous numbers. The subject of the third volume is "Magellan, or the First Voyage round the World,"* and it tells the story of one of the most famous expeditions in the history of maritime discovery. "No voyage," says the author, "could be imagined into which every feature of romance and adventure, of narrow escape and brilliant achievement, could be more crowded than was that of Magellan from the port of Cadiz to the island clusters of Australasia." And the life and character of Magellan himself were in other respects worthy of the renown which this great feat secured for him. Unlike most of the daring adventurers of his age, his ambition led him to prefer a career of peaceful and beneficent achievement to one of bloodshed and conquest; and the story of his life is as wholesome as it is picturesque and entertaining.

... Another series of books which may be described as thoroughly wholesome literature for the young, whether boys or girls, is "Famous American Indians," by Edward Eggleston and Lillie Eggleston Seelye. The two volumes of this series that have been sent us-" Pocahontas" and "Brant and Red Jacket"-possess all the attractiveness of romance with much of the instructiveness of regular history. The aim of the authors is not so much to detach the romantic incidents from history as to make the early history of our country interesting to the general reader by treating it in a simple, graphic, and picturesque style; and they have achieved their aim very successfully.

American Writers, by Henry Mitchell Maccracken, D. D. New York: Phillips & Hunt. 8vo, pp. 873.

* Young Folks' Heroes of History. Magellan, or the First Voyage round the World. By George M. Towle. Boston: Lee & Shepard. 16m0, pp. 281. Illustrated.

+ Pocahontas: Including an Account of the Early Settlement of Virginia and the Adventures of Captain John Smith.-Brant and Red Jacket: Including an Account of the Early Wars of the Six Nations, and the Border Warfare of the Revolution. By Edward Eggleston and Lillie Eggleston Seelye. New York: Dodd, Mead & Co. 16m0, pp. 310, 370. Illustrated.

the identical apartments we occupied together. Alas! how lonely I did feel! I was chilled to the heart. All was over for me; I had lost you, and the future loomed dark and desolate.

The vessel was not to sail until the next morning, so Bell, to divert my mind, took me round the town. A very sharp altercation disagreeably marked our promenade. It was the first disagreement between us. I went to a florist to purchase some camellia-plants and dwarf bananas, and ordered them to be expressed to Paris, to you. Bell led me out of the greenhouse.

"A bouquet," she said to me, as we passed along; "a thousand francs for flowers. We must be economical, Miriam. Egypt is bankrupt."

You know me well enough to understand what my outburst was at this unlooked-for prudence; but I had my way, and you shall have your flowers.

involved, my imagination, which you always think extravagant, would recognize the resemblance. What am I to find out there? I try to picture that father whom I have never seen; that country which only seems to offer one advantage-heat-for I am always as cold as a dead fish. I try to jest, my poor Martha, but at heart I tremble, and that word “forgotten," that in your tenderness you one day uttered, is it not the painful disclosure of long indifference, or some misfortune to which I have no key?

Do not scold. Your last little lecture is still remembered. It is, that reasons or circumstances are more compulsory than inclination. If my father separated from his daughter, it was because it was necessary; if he now recalls her, it is because the obstacle to her return is removed. All this may be very true, but what of that? You know I am not gifted by nature with that passive submission which yields blindly and unquestioningly. I must inquire into things. My brain will be active in spite of me. Must I own it? At this moment when I am going to rejoin my family, my feelings are those of agony. I am terrified. Yes, I am terrified at the un

"You are not accustomed to walk," she answered, "and a carriage is necessary for you. God forbid that I should ever deprive you of necessary things!"

She pressed both my hands in hers. "Darling," she said. But this caress did not mollify

me.

After dinner, where I behaved very crossly, as soon as the servant left the room, she rose with that quiet smile which gives her the appearance of irritating wisdom, and unfolded that unlucky letter, the cause of all my trouble.

I scornfully threw it aside, but, without being in the least disconcerted, she picked it up and read aloud:

"DEAR M. GUTLER: I beg you will send my daughter home to me by the first steamer. My superintendent will only pay half your account, for I have no more money at present. Egypt is ruined!"

How dull this hotel seems without you! Curled up in the corner of the fireplace, in an easy-chair, I dream of Egypt. . . . Am I not like one of those children we sometimes read of, who, deserted for the best part of a lifetime, are at length hunted up and recalled, like a package deposited and forgotten in the interval? This is certainly a romance, and, if my heart were not

doned me.

Come, dearest, marry quickly, because I wish it, and you never refuse me anything. Then you can come and seek me, and we can consult together with your husband, whether I shall keep you with me, or you shall carry me off with you. Divide with your mother my tenderest love.

II.

I HAVE seen my father! He is good, tender, and charming-and I love him!

My arrival at Chimilah was a bewildermenta dream, and I write you from the Palace of a Thousand and One Nights. And yet Egypt is ruined! But I see, if I do not tell you my adventures connectedly, you will think I am crazy.

After writing my letter from Marseilles I went to rest, as we had to rise very early the next morning to take the Alexandria boat. I will pass over the night, which, as usual with me, was one of unbroken sleep. I will not describe the scene in the morning: Bell forcibly tore me out of bed and dressed me. The account of our voyage will not interest you any more than the portraits of Madame Panafy, the wife of the most important banker of Cairo, and her two daughters, with hanging, disheveled hair.

It must