are a thousand sparkles of wit, humor, philosophy, truth, genius and power that the hasty reader misses. Little chinks that occur in every good work, through which we see the soul of the author flooded with pure and holy light, something deeper than his individuality, almost deeper than heart itself is revealed to us, we see why he wrote-yes, why he could not help writing! His whole life is often epitomized in a single word philosophically uttered by one of his creations; and his struggles, yearnings, despair and hope are unconsciously photographed upon his mental offspring. "Back of the canvas that throbs, the painter is

hinted and hidden;

Into the statue that breathes, the soul of the
sculptor is bidden."

Those little touches of humor, quiet, charming and dainty, that make one smile, partly in appreciation of the wit, and partly at one's own pride and pleasure in seeing it, this the hasty reader misses. Often it is only a word said, oftener still a word unsaid, an eloquent silence. Of course when the waiter falls down two flights of stairs with the loaded dinner tray, the 'skimmer" sees it, thinks it funny, laughs at it, but he misses more than he gains.

66

It is said the original manuscript of Amiel's Journal numbers seventeen thousand folio pages.

Mark Twain hit upon a happy scheme for a practical use of Book Chat the other day. He said: "Now I'll look up some of the magazines I would like, then I'll subscribe for them, and every month when they come in, I'll throw them on a great big shelf I have; then I'll look through Book Chat's Magazine Leaders, and if I see anything that strikes me favorably, I'll pull down the magazines and read the article. If there is nothing that interests me, see how much time I'll save by not wading through all those periodicals."

Miss Hapgood, whose translation of Epic Songs of Russia received note last month, has translated Tolstoi's Souvenirs of Childhood, Boyhood and Youth, which will aid us in forming a better conception of the mind and training of the author of the recent powerful productions from his hand.

A very appreciative biographical sketch of Juliana Horatia Ewing, by Mrs. Molesworth, discovers the secret of her success to be strong individuality and sympathy. But there is a charm, an indescribable essence beneath these two qualities that evades analysis, as a shadow flees before the pursuer. It is something too that has it chief power in its subtlety.

S. Baring-Gould's novel, Mehalah, has just been dramatized in London, and will be produced at an early date.

One of the Cincinnati papers proclaimed recently, with flourish of trumpets, that the novels of Hugh Conway, issued since his decease, have been written by Comyus Carr and his wife. This item was eagerly siezed upon and clipped by the scissors editors of the American press, which secured it a large gratuitous circulation. Mr. Frederick Macmillan, in a private letter, denounces the statement as untrue, he himself having personally examined the original manuscript in Hugh Conway's writing of Living or Dead, and some other tales. Somebody's Story, printed in autograph fac-simile, is another proof against this statement.

Translations of Anna Katherine Green's novels are now being issued in Paris.

Many pretty stanzas to "H. H." appear in a number of the magazines, inspired no doubt by sympathetic friendships Mrs. Jackson has made through her Ramona.

It is said that Mr. Canagie's Triumphant Democracy is being translated into German, Italian, French, Hungarian, and other Euro, ean languages.

It is a curious fact, that nearly all the great music of the world has been produced in humble life, and has been developed amid the environments of poverty, and in the stern struggle for existence. The aristocracy has contributed very little to music, and that little can be spared without detriment. The enduring music has been the child of poverty, the outcome of sorrow, the apotheosis of suffering. Sebastian Bach was the son of a hireling musician. Beethovan's father was a dissipated singer. Cherubini came from the lowest and poorest ranks of life. Gluck was a forester's son. Lulli, in his childhood, was a page, and slept in palace kitchens. Hayden's father was a wheelwright, and his mother, previous to marriage, was a cook in the kitchen of Count Harrach. Mozart's father was a musician in humble circumstances, and his grandfather a bookbinder. Handel was the son of a barber and surgeon. Meluel was the son of a cook. Rossini's father was a miserable strolling horn-player. Schubert was the son of a poor school-master. Cimarosa's father was a mason, and his mother a washerwoman. Schuman was a bookseller's son; and Verdi, the son of a Lombardian peasant. Weber's father was a strolling actor and musician. Among all the prominent composers, but three were born in affluenceAuber, Meyerbeer and Mendelssohn.

"Woman in Music,"

By G. P. UPTON.

A BACHELOR'S CHARGE.

When he got this insight into her system of phonetics, he went out and bought a lot of school-books, and began his task of instruction with many forebodings. To the end she retained a profound contempt for the unpractical character of the man who wrote the spelling book. "Acme, apostrophe, asthma," she said, running her finger down the column, "what shall he want of such words like those? I shall never say them. Apple, acorn, ashes-there is the sense. If you go take a walk in the country, you see acorns, you see apples; but you never shall say, 'see the beautiful apostrophe'-'look at the fine asthma.' It is a stupidness to write such words as nobody will say." The Sunday-school scheme was a complete failure, but it brought a better understanding. After the second Sunday, Midge revolted, and vigorously. "It is a nonsense," she said excitedly: “ vois-tu, they have given

me this little yellow thing to learn"—and she held up the printed text-" and I can learn ten thousand of those in a day. And they have told me such histories! of an old man who is mocked of the little boys, and figure-toi, there are bears come out of a forest and eat them up. Is it that I am child, to be told such stories like that? "Oh," groaned the Doctor, "why that was Elijah or Elisha-I forget which. Why he was a prophet." "I do not know what was his business, but he had no hair. And I am not a little boy who is rude to an old gentleman. Why do they tell me such stories?" "My dear," said the Doctor, "you need'nt go to Sunday-school any more."

"The Midge,"

By H. C. BUnner.

THE MAGIC DRUG.

Owing to loss of self-control while under the influence of Haschisch, one is just as apt to reveal secrets as to utter the most common-place remark; one may be so influenced that speech and action will take any form into which others care to mould them. The past, also, will often arise before one's mind like a dream, and any of its scenes may be re-enacted. It affects one's conception of the duration of time in a most remarkable manner. Time seems to be extended to a most interminable length, so that a minute becomes a thousand years, and an hour an eternity. But, notwithstanding this, the time cannot pass quickly enough, for, while whole eras sweep by, and centuries are crowded into moments, it seems painfully slow to the wretched victim whose mercurial imagination outstrips it in its seemingly dragging march. It produces a perfect delirium of being the emotions are freed from restraint, and the imagination runs riot in the mind. Happiness is supreme-bliss is heavenly-joy is sublime! On the other hand, one touch of sorrow plunges into the profoundest depths of woe, and grief is blank despair. Ah, but the images which are presented to one's mind excel in magnificence the wildest flights to which unaided fancy ever soared! Amid the most ordinary surroundings the dreamer may dwell in crystal palaces, wander through courts of pearl, breath a perfumeladen air, and hear soft music whose trembling notes thrill like the tender voice of love. "Haschisch,"

By THOROLD KING.

MAGAZINE BRIEFS.

The felicity with which the American press has made use of the Cleveland-Folsom marriage, the ingenuity of the pretty fictions of Miss Folsom's schooldays, the enterprising spirit that gave full particulars of the courtship, the journalistic libels in the shape of illustrated misrepresentations of the bride-all receive a sharp reproof from the Brooklyn Magazine. Editors with guilty consciences on this subject, should read it three times a day till cured,

Rev. E. E. Hale, in the March North American Review, gave an exposition of his religious belief, under the title "Why am I a Unitarian?" to which Mr. L. F. Stearns promptly replies in the New Englander in strongly critical terms. Rev. John Hall takes the query from the Presbyterian side this month, with his reasons for "the faith that is in him." The religious "Why am I?" opens a wide field for doctrinal discussion, as no doubt every point in the views of these representative ministers will be carefully and relentlessly dissected by those holding different opinions, whom we trust may be moved by a desire for the truth, and not from sectional basis.

Americans are sternly practical, and no matter what other arguments are used in favor of any special scheme, the clinching thought is always economy of time or money. In the Forum, Mr. Hume, in his article on metallic currency says, "The annual saving to the country in the item of mint expenses alone, etc." J. W. Chadwick, in the following article, favors cremation with these words, "compared with inhumation, the cost need not be more than one dollar to three." We do not mean that the almighty dollar" is the principal element, but it is always there anyhow.

The class in experience in Lippincott's for June, devotes itself to the momentous question of labor, and the confessions are all on this subject. Martin Iron's remarks are probably the most important, but the working-girl and the street-car conductor add their mite to the fund of labor data.

Mrs. Harrison, under her pen-name Lucas Malet, contributes to the Fortnightly Review, an article on Henri Frederick Amiel, with the title, "The other side of the moon." Surely the dignity of the theme should relieve it from bearing such a silly title. Perhaps it is another letter to dead authors, and this is merely the address. The tone of the critique is not as appreciative as admirers of his Journal Intime would desire.

The Path, devoted to the brotherhood of humanity, theosophy in America, and the study of occult science, philosophy and organ literature, is directed to those who desire to be au fait on the religion of the Orient and kindred topics. Books on these subjects are reviewed by authorities in the literary department.

There are three degrees of literary similarity; first, coincidence; second, resemblance; third, plagiarism. Of course, in awarding sentence as to an author's guilt, the words must be carefully weighed and glossed as circumstances may direct. Shakespeare stole from a thousand authors, many of whom were born after his decease. Milton borrowed his Paradise Lost without giving a receipt for it. Other authors are no doubt guilty, but their evidence is not all in yet. A study of these resemblances in Time may prove of interest, and awaken charity for simultaneousness of thought.

BOOKS

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

Fiction has donned its summer attire in the form of light paper covers, and the large tomes in their heavy dresses of seal, morocco, and heavier materials are laid by until Fall.

A Fallen Idol, by the author of Vice Versa, is announced as the next English humorous story; to be published in London next month.

Miss A. R. McFarlane of the Nation, has finished Children of the Earth, a novel of Nova Scotia and New York, to be published by Holt & Co.

A novelty in birthday books has just been issued in Dublin under the title, Birthday Book of Our Dead, with appropriate mortuary selections. Space is left It under each date for entry of the death of friends. does not threaten to be as bothersome as the autograph album, as it passes the living unharmed. The birthday of his death sounds very strange for the first few times you say it.

Cut is the brief, sharp title of Mr. G. S. Servus' new novel. His A Model Wife was favorably received about a year ago, and this, we trust, may be even more successful.

Prof. Ely, of John Hopkins' University, well known as a clear, solid thinker, has written a work on The Labor Question in America, which will, no doubt, shed light on this social conundrum.

The bridal edition of the Ladies of the White House, by Mrs. L. C. Halloway, is almost ready. It will contain a full and authentic history of Miss Folsom, with information about an infinite number of incidents connected with her life from her youth up.

The Destruction of Gotham. By Joaquin Miller.— A graphic story of the times, showing the conflict between the upper and lower stratas of society in New York; is almost ready for publication.

Two new stories of Ivan Turgenieff, an unfortunate woman and ass'ya, translated directly from the Russian, will be issued in one volume some time during the

summer.

Nicolas v. Gogol, known as the Chas. Dickens of Russian Literatura, is unknown in this country. Crowwell & Co. have in preparation a translation of his principal works. The first of the series, Teras Bella; will be ready early in June.

Correspondents are invited to make full use of this column on all literary questions, which will be most cheerfully answered as far as we may be able. The name and address must in all cases accompany the query.

17. Wherein do the following lines occur, who wrote them, and where can I find the poem entire ? I have ships that went to sea, More than fifty years ago;

None have yet come home to me,

But keep sailing to and fro.

I have seen them in my sleep, Plunging through the shoreless deep. CLEVELAND, O.

MAUD LYNN.

TO THE

READER.

The books given under this heading comprise the principal books published during May. In the note, the idea has been to tell what the book is about, and the style in which it is written, rather than to give any criticism upon its merits. These brief, chatty outlines are in every instance the result of a careful reading and examination of each book by the editors of Book CHAT, and are not copied from other papers or reprinted from publishers' notices.

ALIETTE (LA MORTE). By Octave Feuillet, author of "The Romance of a Poor Young Man," &c. Vicomte de Vandricourt, a young Parisian gentleman with strongly developed atheistic views, falls in love with Aliette de Courtehense, of strictest Catholic principles and life. The motive of the story is to show the relative strength of science and religion, while the character of Sabine brings in a dramatic element of passionate love.-Appleton, .50

BARBARA'S VAGARIES. By Mary L. Tidball.-Barbara Dexter was a bright, winsome, original and clever young girl, at a summer watering-place, whose frank, fearless unconventional acts and speech, kept everyone on the qui vive to see what she would do next. If books with one love story are read with interest, a trifold attraction must here exist in following the romances of three couples.-Harpers, 1.00

BEATON'S BARGAIN. By Mrs. Alexander.-Mr. Leslie Beaton's scheme to relieve himself of the pinches caused him by lack of accessible funds was to seek to marry an heiress. A matrimonial advertisement, inserted by a crafty guardian, seems to fall in with his idea, and a pleasing narrative is given of the misunderstandings consequent thereon.-Holt, paper .25, cloth,

1.00

BROKEN BONDS. A novel. By W. A. H. Stafford. Cloth. 2d. edition.-Base slanders and forged letters separate Arthur Wardell and Alice Brainerd. In a moment of pique she marries a man who proves to be a most dissipated gambler. On his death, the bonds that bound them are broken, and the lovers are reconciled and happy.-Brentano Bros., 1.25.

BURGLARS IN PARADISE. By Elizabeth S. Phelps.The burglars were real, the paradise was ideal, or more correctly, it was an earthly one, in a cottage kept by two "old maids," near the roaring sea. The terror of these mutual comforters and their troubles and worries, give opportunity for rare fun and humor, reminding us strongly in many places of Rudder Grange, that charming housekeeping biography of another young couple who acted like old maids too.Houghton Mifflin, .25.

CAPE COD CRANBERRIES. By James Webb.-Information by a practical cranberry-grower on the proper selection of ground, the best varieties of fruit, etc., and the best methods of grading, plowing, cultivating, diking, gathering and shipping.-Orange Judd Co., .40

THE BOAT SAILER'S MANUAL. By Edw. F. Qualtrough.-A treatise on the management of sailing boats of all kinds, and under all conditions of weather, with a concise description of the various rigs in general use at home and abroad, directions for handling sailing canoes, and the rudiments of cutter and sloop sailing.-Scribners, 2.00

THE CHAUTAUQUA MOVEMENT. By J. H. Vincent.The history of the grandest educational movement that ever developed in America, based on the highest plan of unsectarian religious liberty, as well as the most true and practical home education, is worthy of careful reading and study. C. L. S. C. is a union that is a power among us.-Chautauqua Press, 1.50.

COLLECTION SCHICK No. 15.-Three short stories in German, "Die Reise nach dem Gluck," by Heyse; "Die heilige Frau," by Wildenbruck; Die Belagerung von Berlin,” by Daudet. By a comparison of this with the Overland Library, which contains the same stories in English, the student in language will find an excellent aid in acquiring facility in translation and idiom.-Schick, .20.

CONSULAR REMINISCENCES. By G. Henry Horstman.-What an American consul saw and heard in seventeen years service at Munich and Nuremberg, with odd occurrences, strange foreign customs and habits, meetings with notables, and other pleasing experiences in his every-day life.-Lippincott Co., 1.25.

They

DAISIES OF VERSE. By Mrs. S. L. Oberholtzer, author of Violet Lee, &c.-Home verses are these "daisies." strike no exalted key, but touch only on those every-day scenes, fancies and acts we must come upon as we elbow our way through life. In addition to the miscellaneous poems, are "memoriam verses," "hymns" and "jingles" for the little ones-Lippincott, 1.25.

THE DARK CITY. By Leander Richardson.-Not everyone who visits the great Metropolis of England is attacked with anglomania, is shown in this good-natured, keen and observant satire on the customs of the "cockneys," in whose acts and doings, an American who looks about him, can see much that is odd and funny, in addition to the English stride and the "Ah! yes, weally now."-Doyle and Whittle, 1.00.

ECONOMICS FOR THE PEOPLE. By R. W. Bowker.Books that popularize abstruse subjects, make the public their debtor. Mr. Bowker's plain talks on economics, designed with special reference to American facts and illustrations, gives much useful information in easily-digested statements. Some of the topics treated are "markets, price, labor, wages, banks, money, land, co-operation, socialism, taxation and national debt."-Harpers .75

ENGLAND'S SUPREMACY. By J. S. Jeans.-A study of economic problems of the present day, viewed in the light of facts and figures which cannot lie, mere theory and argument being passed by with a mere touch, as being met with more potent weight by the critical test of statistics.-Harpers,,20.