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translated from the Danish by Samuel C. Eastman (Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.). Dr. Brandes is a keen observer as well as an excellent critic, and, while the work does not pretend to be an exhaustive treatise upon modern political and social life in Russia, still the average reader will find that he has gained a great deal of accurate information upon both these topics, and cannot fail to peruse with much interest and profit the sections evoted Russian literature and art.

H. C. Walsh.


THE midsummer is par excellence the time for reading novels, especially novels of the lighter kind, for during the dog-days neither mind nor stomach should be taxed with heavy food. “Three Days: A Midsummer Love Story," by Samuel Williams Cooper, is a record of a three days' flirtation at that everpopular resort, Narragansett Pier. The story is brightly and entertainingly told, and is charmingly illustrated.

"A Lost Wife," by Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron, author of "In a Grass Country," “A Devout Lover,” “The Cost of a Lie,” etc., appears in Lippincott's series of Complete Novels. It is a love-story dealing with modern English life, and the plot is exceptionally interesting and well worked out. As ever, the course of true love does not run smooth, and the reader cannot but give close and breathless attention to the sinuous twists and turnings in the course of the true love that exists between Freda, the heroine, and Captain Thistleby. The denouement is happy, and leaves the proper scent of orange-blossoms behind it.

“Wheat and Tares," by Graham Claytor, is a well-told story dealing principally with rustic life in Virginia, and contains some clever character sketches. The story begins some eight years anterior to the civil war and ends a decade after its close. It is a careful and accurate study of Southern scenes and Southern character during that period, and it has that touch of nature about it which lends to any story a peculiar charm.

However uncomfortable military frontier life may be considered by the soldier who actually experiences it, it has a great charm for the reader of fiction. A very interesting and breezy story of frontier army life is Captain Charles King's last novel, “Laramie'; or, The Queen of Bedlam. A Story of the Sioux War of 1876.” It is just the kind of a story to be taken along for summer reading, containing a happy blending of the two ingredients dearest to the heart of the readers of romance,-love and war. Captain King possesses a brilliant and dashing style, and his own experiences of military frontier life enable him to give the proper local color to his tale.

The many readers of “Not like Other Girls” will be pleased to learn that Miss Rosa N. Carey has just issued another story, entitled "Merle's Crusade." Like Miss Carey's other stories, this novel appeals especially to women. It deals with the problems confronting a young woman of the present day, and the manner in which they are overcome. The finale is a happy marriage, and 80 “all's well that ends well.”

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OCTOBER, 1889.







without its flavor of subacid, was the presence rising perpendicular to the cane sofa and seeming to glint in the flood of summer light. For, on that glad June morning of 1860, a softened sunlight saturated the river breeze ere it swept into the wide French windows of Rose Villa,

It needed neither the small bunch of keys dangling at her girdle, nor the sleek bands of thinning hair above the knotted forehead, to proclaim Miss Tabitha Fay's unmated state. Her whole being radiated spinsterhood; and characteristic, while not unpleasing, was her voice as she said,

“Nonsense, Brother Standish! you are talking as though we had sold our darling into slavery !"

And the long white fingers turned the leaves of the housekeeper's

Benton Standish turned irresolutely and walked towards the window. His round, rubicund face grew shadowed and lengthened visibly, as he looked out disually upon the most tasteful garden-surrounding one of the prettiest villas-on all the banks of the lordly Hudson. The breeze that played about his hair was heavy with odors pilfered from the lowers; but the sniff he gave was of discontent; the gaze, turned inward, recked little of the landscape, judging from the half-soliloquy, half-reply :

book with a snap:

“U—um! True, Mason said nothing about mortgages and overdue notes. Neither of us could forget them, though. And I tell you, Sister Tabitha,” he added, more distinctly, “you hit it right. It's just selling the child, to keep Rose Villa in the family."

“ It is rather late to speak of that now," the lady retorted, in quiet monotone, from behind the fortification of a fixed fact," when the wedding is some six hours off.

“Yes, I know it is too late; but, sister, I should never have consented to let the wedding-day be anticipated with such unseemly haste !" Mr. Standish spoke warmly, and withi decision.

Miss Fay let her cold gray eyes rest on him a moment before replying :

“Mr. Mason thinks these impending troubles in the South make his presence imperative on his Red River plantations. Naturally his impatience could not wait their settlement."

“A woman worth marrying is worth waiting for !" Standish answered, testily.

“Sometimes, Brother Standish, I think you are

“A donkey? So I am,” he finished, with a little laugh, dwindling to a sigh as he again turned to the window, adding, “ But I'm worse than that: I'm a beggar! I tell you, Tabitha, this match was none of my making.”

“I consider it extremely well made,” was the retort,—so quick as to prove that it had been of hers. “Mr. Mason is not very much over fifty; he has family,”—and Miss Tabitha smoothed down caressingly her immaculate morning-dress at each enumerated excellence, —“reputation, a large fortune, and will inherit more."

“And Bennie is just eighteen,” Standish said, absently, as if to the Hudson below; "she has beauty, high spirit, and not a dollar, and will inherit-debts !"

“Nonsense, Brother Standish !” began the unmated voice in the reprehension key; but it gradually changed the pitch, as curiosity overcame even combativeness. “But, good gracious! where can she be? Romping about the woods, I presume; and this her wedding-day!"

As if in answer, a fresh, girlish voice floated through the windows, in the bright notes of Siebel's “flower-song” from “Faust;" a light step bounded on the porch and stopped abruptly as the song ceased.

“ Trim off the big leaves, Thomas, before you bring them in,” the voice cried; and Bennie Standish bounded into the room, her arms full of flowers and forest-leaves, her big garden-hat falling back from masses of golden hair, blown about a fair young face flushed with exercise and health.

She was by no means one of those beauties who set sentimental poets dreaming, or make young artists rave for profiles.

But she was a fresh, vivacious girl, with the grace of womanhood and the charm of childhood. A complexion of milk and crushed roses was toned by a piquante expression of sauciness and pride combined; while the deep blue eyes, naturally twinkling with merriment, had in them something that spoke of strong will, scarcely educated to control, which might on occasion flash out of them dangerously.

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