99.66

mere "collection of words about words," nor does it pretend to the character of a systematic treatise; it is a series of not too closely related essays on what we may call the literary aspects of language, treating of such topics as "Morality in Words," Grand Words," 79 66 'Small Words," "Words without Meaning," ," "Saxon Words, or Romanic?" "The Secret of Apt Words," "Fallacies in Words," and "Nicknames," including, of course, the inevitable chapter on "The Common Improprieties of Speech." It is not Dr. Mathews's method to confine himself strictly to his text, so that the title of one of his essays, no more than the title of his book, indicates the precise nature of its contents. His central ideas are usually clear enough, and are enforced with amply sufficient emphasis; but he clusters around them an immense variety of illustrative quotations and anecdotes drawn from almost every department of literature. Few writers have so thoroughly mastered the art of retelling old stories, and extracting novel suggestions from hackneyed sayings, and fewer still are able to draw upon such varied accumulations. His aim, too, is not merely to entertain while instructing, but to make entertainment the medium of instruction, and we can fancy some surprise on the part of the reader when he finds that the essay with which he has amused an idle half-hour has lodged some ideas in his mind which show a tendency to "stick" long after their literary garniture has faded into a vague reminiscence of pleasure. These ideas will probably not always be found to agree very well, for Dr. Mathews is apt to see with a somewhat exclusive vividness that aspect of a general truth with which he happens at the moment to be dealing. But while, in the precise form in which they are presented to him, the reader may find some difficulty in reconciling the precepts inculcated in the two essays on "Grand Words" and "Small Words" with those to which prominence is given in the later essay on "Saxon Words, or Romanic?" yet in the general solvent of an active mind they will be found to "precipitate "a highlyuseful and important criterion of cultivated speech. We may add that, in addition to its more individual and distinctive good qualities, the book would answer fairly well as a dictionary of quotations.

46

FEWER elements of popular interest, perhaps, are possessed by The Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication "1 than by either of Mr. Darwin's more celebrated works, but it is a book which should be read by all lovers of natural history, and especially by those who would master the more important facts bearing upon the great question as to the origin of species. It may be said in general terms that, while "The Origin of Species" and "The Descent of Man" formulate and expound the several theories which are classified as Darwinian, "The Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication" presents the specific evidence on which these theories are founded, and by which it is held they are established. This distinction, of course, must not be applied too rigidly, for all three of the books contain a vast deal both of evidence and argument; but, as the author himself says, a great number of statements in "The Origin of Species" have to be taken on trust for want of room to marshal the evidence, while in the lastnamed work the bearing of the facts discussed upon the general theory of natural selection is disposed of in a single preliminary chapter. "The Variation of Plants and Animals" was first published in 1868, and since that 1 The Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication. By Charles Darwin, M. A., F. R. S. Second edition; revised. In Two Volumes. With Illustrations. New York: D. Appleton & Co.

time Mr. Darwin has continued to attend to the same subjects, thus accumulating a large body of additional facts, which have been used in the preparation of the revised edition, the appearance of which furnishes the occasion for our remarks. In his preface to the new edition, Mr. Darwin says that he has omitted some statements, corrected some errors, and introduced many additional references. The most important alterations have been made in the chapter on certain anomalous modes of reproduction and variation, and in that on Pangenesis; but it may be said that the discussions and investigations of eight years have strengthened rather than impaired the main conclusions of the book.

NOTWITHSTANDING its tragical ending, and the undertone of sadness which runs through the greater part, "A Story of Three Sisters" is an extremely pleasant book. The very contrast which it affords to the tawdry sensationalism that vitiates so much of current fiction would render it attractive to cultivated readers; but it has other than merely negative good qualities. It shows insight into character and skill in its delineation, culture and refinement of mind, keen susceptibility to the manifold beauties of Nature, and a sympathetic perception of the charms which lie in "the quiet and sequestered ways of life." It is deficient, perhaps, in the dramatic incidents and sharp social contrasts with which it is usually found necessary to stimulate the jaded appetite of the modern novel-reader; but there is no lack of healthy human interest, and few recent novels present us with a character for whom we have such a personal feeling as that with which Pamela inspires us. We single out Pamela because the author by no means distributes her attention among the three sisters as impartially as the title of her book would imply. Pamela is the heroine as distinctly as though her sisters had been omitted from the canvas, and, though her individuality is her own, it does not strike us as inappropriate that she should bear the name of the most lovable and unforgettable of Richardson's creations. The story appears to be the author's first work, and as such is remarkably mature in thought and finished in style.

FEW American contributions to philosophical literature have obtained such wide recognition and appreciation as Dr. Draper's " History of the Intellectual Development of Europe." " It has been subjected to sharp criticism, and has aroused much controversy; but there is scarcely a civilized country of Europe into whose literature it has not entered by means of a translation, and recent symptoms would seem to indicate that the current of scientific inquiry is setting more strongly than ever before in the direction which it points out. This fact, together with the additional one that fifteen years have elapsed since the work was first published, has induced the author to prepare a revised and enlarged edition. The nature and extent of the revision and additions are not indicated, and it would be too laborious a task to enter into a detailed comparison of the two editions ; but the most noteworthy feature of the present one is that it is cheaper in price and more convenient in size. It can hardly be expected that the book will experience a repetition of its old popularity, but it will, no doubt, in its new form, increase the large circle of its readers, and extend the sphere of its influence.

1 A Story of Three Sisters. By Cecil Maxwell. Leisure Hour Series. New York: Henry Holt & Co.

2 History of the Intellectual Development of Europe. By John William Draper, M. D., LL. D. Revised edition, in Two Volumes. New York: Harper & Brothers.

X.

AND, after all, what difference does it make?" said he once more, on arriving at the threshold of his house. 'My cottage is very pretty! I slandered it this morning. These walls, too white, are rosecolored when the sun sends his slanting rays upon them. My climbing plants have beautiful shoots, and will reach to the balcony by the end of autumn. It is a true happiness to have a home entirely to one's self, and to enjoy a boundless liberty. Why should I blame my tranquil goddaughter for thinking of herself when I aspire to live hereafter for the simple pleasure of living?"

"Come, then, my child," cried Madame André from the dining-room. "It is half-past five, and the soup is getting cold."

“And I make you wait!" replied Pierre, taking off his game-pouch, full of flowers and pebbles. "Indeed, I did not think it was so late."

He quickly sat down at the table, after having washed his hands in the little fountain of blue earthen-ware that adorned the dining-room; and, as it was necessary to apprise his mother of Marianne's intended visit, he related the whole story while they were at the dinner-table.

Madame André listened calmly until he gave the account of the favorable reception Marianne had given to the demand for an interview. At this moment she appeared incredulous.

"You are telling me a story," said she, "or Marianne is making a fool of you. Marianne does not wish to be married: she has told me so a hundred times."

"Well, she does not remember, or she has changed her mind. Varium et mutabile semper!' What is the matter with you, dear mother?-why do you weep?"

Perhaps I do not know," replied the good woman, drying with her napkin two great tears that were running down her cheeks, without any effort to restrain them. "My heart is full, and for a little thing I could weep much."

"Then let us talk about something else. I do not wish you to lose your dinner. It is plain, mother, that you are very much attached to Marianne. I know that, and I think she deserves your friendship; but she is not so different from other girls as she appears. She has, like all the rest, dreamed of love and a family; you could not hope that she would renounce these dreams to play cards with you or to pick up the stitches of your knitting-work until the end of the world! She has her portion of selfishness, like all the world; it is her right."

“And you think it is from selfishness that I grieve over her resolution? After all, you are right, perhaps. I am wrong. Come, then! I do not wish to be disconsolate before her. When she arrives, she must find me as tranquil and as gay as you are."

"As I am?" said André, surprised at the glance his mother fixed upon him; why should I be sad

or troubled?"

"I thought you were a little so."

"You have never imagined, I hope, that I could be in love with Marianne ?"

"If you were, it would not be a great misfortune!"

Truly? Confess, my dear mother, that you have dreamed of bringing about a marriage between me and your dear little neighbor. How does it happen that you have never said a word to me of the matter?"

"I have said a word, and even several words, which you would not understand."

"When? I swear that I do not remember!"

"It was six years ago. It was during the last visit you made at home before your poor father's death. You had then a little ready money. He wished you to marry in order to keep you in the country. Marianne was twenty years old. She was not an orphan, independent and rich, as she is now. This marriage was then possible."

"And now it is not," quickly replied Pierre, with much emotion. "I am older and poorer than I was; I should not suit her. I beg you, my good mother, never expose me to the humiliation of being refused by this calculating and scornful person; never speak of me to her! I hope that you never have done so ?"

"Yes, indeed; sometimes."
"And she replied-?"
"Nothing!

Marianne never replies when her reply can involve her in difficulty."

"It is true; I have noticed that. There is something horrible in her prudence. A woman of the world darting her glances, coquettish, deceitful-this can be imagined-she wishes for adorers; but a countrywoman who, wishing only for a husband, calculates and behaves in this unseemly manner, is a block of ice that no sun will ever melt."

"Be quiet; here she comes," said Madame André, who had full well remarked the painful vexation of her son. "Do not appear to blame her."

XI.

THEY had finished dinner. They went to meet Marianne, who was approaching on Suzon at the usual measured gallop. Marianne dismounted almost without holding her back. The docile beast stopped short, as if she had guessed her thought, and followed her steps to the front of the cottage, when, turning to the left, she went alone to her accustomed lodging in a corner of the barn, which she shared with the ass belonging to the farm.

Marianne had for a riding-costume a white dimity-jacket, a round hat of rice-straw, and a long skirt striped with blue and gray that she raised very quickly and gracefully by means of a leather girdle. She wore her hair short and curling, and this girlish fashion, added to her slender and rather diminutive stature, gave her always the appearance of a child of fourteen or fifteen at the most. Her complexion, of a dead white, lightly brown around the eyes and on the back of the neck, was neither irritated nor freckled by the sun. Her features were delicate, her teeth were beautiful. She would have been