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reader to the author that would accept as true, statements made as matters of fact, unless absolute proof can be adduced to the contrary, thus rendering such defences unnecessary; at any rate, the writer should presume that his readers believe him.

In some grand dramatic presentation, the villain kills his victim by a strong blow behind the ear. Imagine him then calmly approaching the footlights, confidently explaining to the audience, experimentally or otherwise, how one direct blow could have such deadly effect, reading passages from the latest encyclopædias, citing medical cases, and then drawing on the black-board a diagram of the ear in chalk of three colors. Such an explanation would be deemed insane, and justly so. It is the duty of the audience to believe, that, as far as the play is concerned, such a blow is fatal. Private doubts of it as an actuality can be indulged later. If the statement is challenged, then there is time to verify it. Why then should not the same line of reasoning be employed in fiction, which is but drama in a different form?

Foot-notes break the continuity of the story and scatter the thoughts of the reader instead of focusing them. It is like getting out of a street-car at every corner to see what progress it is making. In nearly every instance, such explanations and notes, if the author deem them necessary at all, can be woven into the text to form an unbroken web of thought. Take as a specimen of the foot-note trouble

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ERTAIN authors of to-day are not genuine novelists, they are mere producers of fiction, "turning out" in the course of the year one. two, three or four novels according as they are running on full-time or half-time. In this factory-work, there is not the attention to delicacy in detail, the fine finishing of minor scenes, that shows the touch of a careful writer. The effect sought only is en masse, one idea or character executed with some care and skill, and the others merely mechanical; speaking, moving, and acting automatically, with no individuality of their own. In this style of work, the author's books follow each other in tedious sameness: if you have read one you have read all; a slight change in scenery, modernizing of setting, difference in sex or nationality, or addition of incident, and the endless drama is repeated. Perhaps

the first work of an author has been a success, the critics have pronounced his creation strong, natural, and artistic. His delineation has been of the patient suffering of a noble woman, bearing uncomplaining, the punishment and disgrace that justice should allot to her faithless son, but which divine love has urged her to assume. The story wins the public approval, the contrast between the sublime devotion of the woman and the sneering hardness of the man has been handled in a masterly way. Elated with his success, the author makes this character his "specialty," he sets his mental guage to that one ideal, and casts all his thoughts in that one mould. The reader, pleased with his first novels, and trusting the mind that could conceive and carry out such a character, blending light and shade, preserving form and feature, till it seems a real person, must be a grand one, capable of original and powerful work, prepares for another literary treat; but the feast narrows itself down to one dish-that noble character that was once success, served

a

up in a new form-maybe

it is baked, roasted, fried, stuffed, browned, a la creme, in croquettes, or warmed over, but it is the same material still.

There are many authors whose works run in these moulds. There is the poor young girl, adopted into a wealthy family, where the son, brother or uncle of the household fall in love with her. Sometimes she is also a governess in the house. In this central thought each of that author's stories are moulded. Nearly four thousand novels on this subject have appeared, at the lowest estimate!

Then there is the stern old man, benevolent yet coldly just; kindly to a certain degree, yet geometrically precise. He has just moved into our village, with a mysterious past unknown to questioned by all.

any, but

The young girl who converts her atheist lover is constantly used as a heroine. But the novelists being better dramatists than theologians, make it a case of change of mind through love, rather than change of heart through conviction.

Some authors make a specialty of brides, and none of their novels are genuine nnless the word "bride" is stamped on the title-page. We have "The Forsaken Bride," "The Bride of a Moment," "So near a Bride," "Was she a Bride?" and all other conceivable forms of bridal history.

Haunted stories are not quite as popular as they have been, but there are writers with whom we wait anxiously till the ghost appears in that room in the left-wing of the castle.

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"The missing will," "the defrauded heiress," " the secret drawer in the desk," the sisters estranged by love of the same person," are familiar to all We can shut our eyes and see the procession of these characters pass in long varied review. They are the trade-marks by which these factory stories. machine-made from old materials, can be identified Authors of repute do not copy from others, they would scorn the act, yet they often cannot help copying from their own previous writings.

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Kate Sanborn writes very entertaining and breezy letters to the Boston Beacon.

Grant Allen's biography of Chas. Darwin has been translated into French.

Mr. Molesworth's holiday book for the young folks will be Four Wind's Farm, with illustrations by Walter Crane.

The success of Kidnaped has decided Mr. Stevenson to continue the story in a sequel upon which he is now engaged.

Josephine Pollard, favorably known for her poetical contributions to the magazines, has collected her late verses for a volume to be called Vagrant Poems.

Will Carleton's poem "Gone with a Handsomer Man," recited by Mr. Wilson Barrett at a reception in New York two years ago, first brought this actor into public notice.

W. D. Howell's has dramatized his A Foregone Conclusion, to be played in New York City during November, under the title Priest and Painter, with the son of Salvini as the hero.

Rose Terry Cooke, who has had such a pleasant success in her stories of life and character in New England, has completed Steadfast, a novel to be published shortly.

Gath's new book, Katy of Catoctin, is a stirring, national romance, opening with the raid of John Brown at Harpers Ferry, and closing with the death of Lincoln.

It is said that Mrs. M. V. Dahlgren has three new Works completed and ready for publishing, Divorce, Adventures of a Night, and Providence and Improv

idence.

Lawrence Hutton and Brander Matthews will edit Retrospections of America, by John Barnard, an English actor, and among the first to visit this country professionally.

The public interest felt in physiognomy and phrenology is shown by the fact twenty-five thousand copies of Heads and Faces have been sold within one year after publication.

The prize for originality in journalism this season should be given to the American paper that has not announced that Ben Hur, by Lew Wallace, is in its one hundred and tenth thousand.

At a recent literary party all the guests were dressed to represent characters in the works of Chas. Dickens. Pegotty, Capt. Cuttle, Little Nell and her Grandfather, and other celebrities were present.

Collaboration in fiction has passed through a number of successful experiments in the past few years. Mrs. Oliphant and Thos. Bailey Aldrich have united their forces in The Second Son, a novel which will be issued in the Atlantic sometime next year.

A life of Tourguenieff, it is said, has been written by Dr. R. Lewenfeldt, editor of Nord und Sud. It will be translated into the Russian language. It would seem but natural to suppose that the first and best biography should have emenated from Russia.

The title to Jennie M. Drinkwater's new book, Between Times, now in press, very closely resembles Between Whiles, a name which Mrs. Jackson (H. H.) hit upon some time ago, and hoped would be given to a volume of her shorter stories.

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At a recent meeting of the London Savage Club, the question of the writing of Hugh Conway came up for discussion. Some one asked, "Did Conway write Living or Dead?" To which Archie McNeill, the wit of the club, answered: "He wrote some living; but, judging from the number of his posthumous works, he wrote more dead."

Maurice Thompson considers the question of an extradition treaty with Canada in his new novel, A Banker of Bankerville, now in press. Congress is to take up the same topic at its next session, it is said, but as it "drags its slow length along" in the Congressional halls for the next few decades, members may find useful many points which Mr. Thompson thus early collects.

The newest work of experiences in America, written to explain matters to those of England's population who have not had an opportunity to personally investigate, is The Truth About America. Though the subject is not particularly novel, the manner of treating it, should, we think, to judge from the title, be not only original but unique.

Julian Hawthorne, in his Confessions and Criticisms, says: "There are a few great poems-Spenser's Faerie Queene is one-which no well regulated child should be without." To how many children, well regulated or otherwise, would the Faerie Queene be interesting and intelligible enough to do any good?

The chylde that coulde this booke y-reade
Woulde be a goodlie chylde indeede;
With witte to reade his Spenser well,
He mighte the poets self excelle!

T. Wentworth Higginson, author of Margaret Fuller Ossili, in the "American Men of Letters" Series, has ready a novel entitled The Monarch of Dreams, based on the phenomena of dreams, in which the hero is possessed with the ambition to connect his dreams with his daily life, andthus lead two separate existences, and this he carries on with a success that ends in tragedy.

Selected

RRENT

READING

"Selections, it is true, sometimes omit things we would have greatly liked, but who will pretend to say that he always finds everything that would have pleased or profited him even when he makes his own choice?"-C. F. RICHARDSON.

IN THE LIBRARY,

From the oriels one by one

Slowly fades the setting sun;

On the merge of afternoon

Stands the new-born crescent moon;
In the twilight's crimson glow,
Dim the quiet alcoves grow.
Drowsy-lidded Silence smiles
On the long deserted aisles;
Out of every shadowy nook
Spirit faces seem to look,

Some with smiling eyes, and some
With a sad entreaty, dumb;
He who sheparded his sheep
On the wild Sicilian steep,

He above whose grave are set
Sprays of Roman violet,
Poets, sages, all who wrought
In the crucible of thought,
Day by day as seasons glide
On the great eternal tide,
Noiselessly they gather thus
In the twilight beauteousness,
Hold communion each with each,
Closer than our earthly speech,
Till within the East are born
Premonitions of the morn!

CLINTON SCOLLARD,

in " With Reed and Lyre."

OCTOBER GLORIES.

But a short time since, the trees were alike green; now they are being tried as by a touchstone, and begin to show characteristic differences. How many carats fine is the gold of the beech, the walnut, the chesnut? The oaks are red or maroon, and the maples run the whole scale of xanthic colors. As in landscape painting, this diffusion of warm hues has the effect of diminishing distance. Yonder blazing woodland, for instance, sharply contrasted with the blue of the sky, seems making for the foreground. For the eye's relief, you would fain add a little neutral tint; and you find that a hazy or humid gray atmosphere agreeably tones down the fierce coloring.

Any one who has noted the autumnal traits of the maple, would have no great difficulty in distinguishing among several others the leaf of any particular tree in his neighbourhood. The wind will bring me, this year as before, complimentary cards from the lemonyellow maple, from the brindled, from the scarlet, from the scarlet-and-gold, and from the sober russet. "By these presents" I shall recognize each individual. Each remains not only loyal to the colors, but displays also the distinctive makings of previous autumns.

Falling leaves, when there is little or no wind to influence their course, have their stems vertical and foremost, spinning round and round, like so many teetotms twirlued in some game of invisible sprites. It is singular how soon the fallen leaf has changed its color; scarlet becoming madder, yellow a dull umber. While the leaf remains upon the tree, however, it becomes frost-plagued, it seems to draw vital rations; once off, decay progresses rapidly. Picking up the leaf of a cottonwood growing in the yard, I am struck with the sketch I see upon it; the mid-vein and veinlets together producing a fairly accurate delineation of the trees naked anatomy. A thousand leaves, and each bearing a small copy of the tree; each showing the inscription of its Caesar, This fanciful principle of correspondence does not appear in all leaves, though those of the beech and maple somewhat illustrate it.-EDITH M. THOMAS,

in "The Round Year."

AMERICAN CUTENESS.

Sharp dealing and distrust, Charles Dickens thought the worst vices of American commercial, political, and even social life. When Richard Grant White was on the Windsor Castle one day, the old keeper there pressed certain attentions on him, which the musing traveler tried to shake off. "I beg your pardon," said the keeper, "but I think you must be an American gentleman. I should not have thought it if you had not been so suspicious. American gentlemen are always suspicious, being so accustomed, you see, sir, to be taken in at home." Every man here is his own manager. every man his own protector. It is characteristic of our alert, pushing, fairly well-educated, shrewd American that the look of his eye is: Cheat me if you can." Far more often do you find this look here than abroad. It is a good thing, this self-reliance, if it do not degenerate into self-assertion. It is a good thing this acute caution, if it does not become mere suspiciousness. It is charged against us that we are more shrewd than conscientious in the collisions of trade and politics. It is affirmed, and with some truth, I fear, that there is among Americans a tendency to sharp dealing in little things that is not found in British and German society.

It is very humiliating to be obliged to make these confessions; but, for one, I have come home with the conviction that there is left yet some room for our improvement in the matter of honesty in little things. An American may be, and usually is, the soul of honor in great things; but we allow an amount of sharp dealing in little thing, that would disgrace a man in many circles abroad. Do not say I have brought a railing accusation against the American character at large. We are more enterprising than any other people, competition is fiercer here than anywhere else on earth; there is vastly more opportunity to rise here than elsewhere, if one only has self-reliance and capacity. Temptation to sharp dealing is a great national allurement of ours, and should ue resisted with all the sagacity and force of the American character.—

JOSEPH COOK,

in "Orient,"

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He bounded to her side, and took her unresisting hand. Oh, Gertrude," he pleaded, "prove me, give me a chance, let me show that I am not without manhood and constancy. Believe me, I know the priceless gift I'm asking, but what else can I do? I have tried for weeks to conquer the feeling you have inspired, tried with all the help that pride and sense of duty and honor could give, but it is utterly useless. I am wholly at your mercy."

SENSIBLE FORM.

"Do you love me, Mary?" "Yes."

"Thanks. Much obliged."

-Nature's Serial Story.

-Not yet tried in novels.

CURING A JOKER.

It will be rembered that when Lord Ringwood appeared in the smoking-room in his dress-cot, the night before, "Bill, as Lomax was frequently called, threatened to tear it up, should he venture to repeat his visit in that costume. Now, Ringwood, as may have been observed, could appreciate a joke as well as most people, albeit he was, as a rule, too languid to take an active part in any joke himself; on this occasion, however, he strolled into the smoking-room rather later than the

others, and in his usual nonchalent manner leant against the mantle-piece, filling his pipe with tobacco, his back to the rest of the company.

"Hallo, Ringwood!" exclaimed Lomax, " you are an obstinate chap. There's that old dress-coat of yours again. I told you I'd do for it, old man, and so I will!" So saying, he arose and approached the mantel-piece. Everyone looked up, wondering how Ringwood would receive this bounce, or how he would avoid having an undignified struggle with the joker, Bill, who be it said, was frequently rather a reckless character when under the influence of champagne.

"Fire away, dear boy," replied Ringwood, without turning round, "fire away; only don't talk so much about it." Emboldened by Ringwood's good natured way of taking things, and, perhaps, feeling that his reputation as a practical joker rested upon his present action, Lomax, without further ado, took the two tails of the offending coat in either hand, and, with one slit, tore the garment in twain.

There was almost a dead silence, as the perpetrator of this outrage laughed a noisy, nervous sort of a laugh, which sounded very forced by reason of no one else caring to join in his mirth. Ringwood alone, perfectly unconcerned, continued to fill his pipe, and then turning round, with the most placid smile, exclaimed, "Well, dear boy, I hope you're going to town to-morrow, because, if you don't, you won't have a coat to dine in." "What do you mean?" asked Lomax, wondering.

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The value to be attached to individual criticism is shown in an extract from The Follies and Fashions of Our Grandfathers, just issued in London. Commenting on Byron's poems, one of the literary magazines of the time (Oct. 1807) says: “Hours of Idleness, a series of poems, original and translated. By Geo. Gordon, Lord Byron, a minor.

"There certainly must be a wonderful charm in the name of author, and a prodigious desire in men to see their own works in print, or what could have induced George Gordon, Lord Byron, a minor, to have favored the world with this collection of poems. No person is exposed to ridicule till he has deserved it, and if the noble lord had not published his Hours of Idleness, no human being would have guessed the quantity of time he had spent in doing nothing.

"These poems completely prove, that although Geo. Gordon, Lord Byron, a minor, whose portrait we give, may be a gentleman, an orator or a statesman, unless he improves wonderfully he can never be a poet.""

BOOKS

"The printed part, tho' far too large, is less Than that which yet unprinted waits the press." FROM THE SPANISH.

Florence Marryat's latest is Spiders of Society. Bret Harte's Story of a Mine will be brought out in the Riverside Pocket Series.

The life of Chas. Darwin, by his son, will be ready before the end of the year.

Messrs. Kegan, Paul, Trench & Co., have in press a volume of essays on Conventional Cant, an excellent subject if properly treated.

In his Tramp Trip, to be issued by Harper & Bros., Lee Meriwether will explain how to see Europe on fifty cents. This is really cheaper than boarding.

A new volume of poems by Nora Perry is now in press. Her two poems, After the Ball and Her Lover's Friend, will be issued in a new edition, both in one book.

To the literature of theosophy and lives of its disciples will be added a volume compiled and edited by A. P. Sinnett, on Incidents in the Life of Madame Blavataky.

One of the calendars for 1887 will have a witty selection for each day in the year, taken from Punch. It must represent a vast amount of patient and persistent research on the part of its compiler.

Journalism is beginning to attract special attention in the magazines and reviews, and it has made itself an important factor in recent fiction. Recollections of a Country Journalist, by Thos. Frost, will be published in London at an early date.

C. H. Kerr & Co. have ready a brief guide to the study of George Eliot's prose and poetry, giving a concise outline of a course of study to be followed in her works, and an exhaustive list of books and magazine articles affording collateral information.

Mr. Louis Wertheimber, of a scholarly Austrian family, and an extensive traveller among the inland districts and villages of Japan, has written a charming story of feudalism in Japan, giving in an atttractive manner the history and romance of the sword, that is thoroughly Japanese in spirit and tone. The title is A Muramasa Blade. The work is to be beautifully illustrated by Japanese artists.

Almost Wrecked, or Last Love is Best, is a novel now in press. The author's name is "Hugo Furst." Is this a real name or a nom de plume? Maybe it means that if some one else goes first, the author will go last, and thus win the last love which is best. If such was not intended, the pen-name was ill-advisedly chosen.

The parodic fiend is at the heels of Mr. Stevenson. The Stranger Case of Dr. Hide and Mr. Crushall is announced.

A new edition of Geo. A. Baker's Point Lace and Diamonds has just been issued, and several new poems have been added.

The Shrine of Death and other stories, by Lady Dilke, is handsomely printed on rich paper with mourning borders.

George Washington and Ulysses S. Grant are the first two volumes in a new series of "Lives of the Presidents."

George Macdonald's writings will be picked over for golden thoughts, to be collected and published by Thos. Whittaker.

Miss Mary A. Roe's story, Left in the Wilderness, which has been running in the Christian Advocate, will appear shortly in book form.

The Life of Samuel Phelps, the actor, that has been announced periodically for the past year, is now definitely stated as ready in London.

Mr. J. Ashby-Sterry, the author of Boudoir Ballads has collected the Lays of a Lazy Minstrel, which he has been contributing to Punch.

A new work on the Civil War, now in preparation, is The Great Invasion; or, General Lee in Pennsylvania, by J. Hoke, Chambersburg, Pa.

A new complete edition of Lord Tennyson's works is in press of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. It will consist of six volumes, with engraved portrait.

The new book of travel of the Vassar girls, gives an account of their summer tour along the famous Rhine, the Hudson of Germany. It is full of amusing incidents and historic narratives, profusely illustrated

To the "Famous Woman Series (called "Eminent Women Series" in England) will be added; Margaret of Angouleme, Queen of Navarre, by A. Mary F. Robinson. Mrs. Siddons will follow shortly.

J. E. Gordon-Cumming, well known as a popular writer in England, has translated into English, Gabriel Charms' La Reforme de la Marine, to be published under the title Naval Reform.

Henry Blackburn's memoir of Randolph Caldecott will be devoted chiefly to the artist's early struggles. Nearly one hundred of the one hundred and seventy illustrations contained in the volume have never before been published.

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