Savage and Civilized Barbarism. From Callahan's “Wynema." (H. J. Smith.) As they walked back toward her tent, Miss Weir exclaimed vehemently: "Oh, that the Indians would quit these barbaric customs! Why is it they will cling to them, no matter how much they associate with white people?" Gerald spoke quietly and courteously: "Do you think, Miss Weir, that if our Indian brother yonder, now full of the enjoyment of the hour, could step into a ball-room, say in Mobile, with its lights and flowers, its gaudily, and, if you will allow it, indecently dressed dancers-do you think he would

consider us more civilized than he? Of course

that is because he is an uncouth savage," with a slight tinge of irony. "Now, I am going to be ignorant and uncouth enough to agree with him in some things. In the first place, he is more sensible in the place he chooses. The Indians select an open space, in the fresh, pure air, in preference to a tight, heated room-an evidence of their savagery. In the second place, the squaws always buy enough cloth to make a full dress, even if it be red calico. You may go among them so long and often as you choose, and you will never find a low-necked, short-sleeved dress -which is another evidence of their ignorance. In the third place, they are more moderate in their dancing. A few nights during the year are sufficient for the untaught savage to indulge in the light fantastic,' whereas, every night in the week, during the season,' hardly suffices for the

'Caucasian. In the-"

"There; that will do," laughingly remonstrated Genevieve; "I am fully convinced of the superiority of our red brothers, Mr. Champion; I shall never make use of such remarks again."

Another Generation.

From Bunner's" Zadoc Pine and Other Stories."
(Scribner.)

It was ten years before I saw Northoak again, and it was only an idle impulse that took me there. I had three or four last days at the end of a vacation in the mountains. My party had disbanded; no one expected me in New York before the next Monday. It came into my head to stop at Northoak on my way back, to whip the trout-streams after my own fashion - a luxury I cannot indulge in when there are professional-amateur anglers to wither me with their 'scorn. Yes, I take a book in my pocket, and, if 'the trout will not have me, I lie down under a tree and walk the London streets with Mr. Samuel Pepys, monstrous fine in his waistcoat made of his wife's brocade petticoat, or stroll under the Italian skies with Eichendorff's Good-fornothing in his mystic, magical Wanderjahre. Northoak trout were too small game for the gentry who despise this sort of fishing; yet there be trout at Northoak, so there I went. I had other 'reasons, of course a foolish fancy of reminiscence leading me back to look for boyhood in boyhood's paths.

I found my old abiding-place, still a refuge for the stranger, but now only as a lodging-house for those who "mealed" at the hotel. It was kept by a brisk woman of business, fresh from New England, who could tell me nothing of my old friends. I asked for the room that had been mine; but when I saw it, and found how close and small it was (and always must have been), I gladly took a larger chamber on the floor below.

I went to dinner at the hotel.

There it was,

the same hotel, but, oh! how changed from that hotel I had known. All the smartness of it had vanished. The wood-work was warped; the paint, of a later era of bad taste, was dull and weather-worn; the frescoed ceilings of the great dining-room had fallen in a dozen places, and the The yellow and blue satin furniture was gone. damages had been repaired with white plaster. Strange, angular furniture had taken its place. I was told that it was in the Eastlake style. The house was full-filled with quiet, decorous families from Boston and Philadelphia, with a small artists. I don't think there was a bottle of chammingling of highly respectable, hard-working pagne in the place. I know that there was a sewing-circle in the rooms where the faro-bank used to be, and a candy-shop in the place of the saloon,

Not a trace left of the old life—the old silly, reckless, dangerous, hopeful, happy life. EveryAnd yet we were happy in those days when the thing is better now, wiser, more wholesome.

"Blue Danube" was new; when we first beheld

le sabre de mon père; when our veins thrilled with tired of since in those crude days when things the potentiality of pleasures that we have grown I am sure of: we who left our boyhood behind were fresher than they are now. And this much companionable, juicier fellows than the finished us a score of years ago were a deal merrier, more youths of to-day, who take their pleasures so sadly, who know such a weary, worrisome lot about what is good form and what isn't, and who treat women just as they treat men.

Hay Making.

From Combe's" A Question of Love." (Roberts.) THOSE hours so full of the mysterious silence of the night, yet beautiful already with the promise of the dawn, were for Samuel the happiest of all the day. Going to his field, he would let the others outstrip him, and would linger behind alone with his dreaming. He turned sometimes to look at the house with its vast roof and gables, and its closed shutter, behind which Zoe was sleeping. Over the slope, still gray with dew, which rose above the great black wood, the cows were slowly wending down, tinkling their bells softly. The sky was of palest gray, against which the fading moon was sinking, and the morning star shone pearly white. All this gray and all this pale color made an exquisite picture, -a landscape seen in a tender dream. At times a warning note, the good morning of some bird scarcely wakened, came from between the branches, and from other nestlings who wished to sleep on would rise a light peeping of reproach, then all was quiet again. Ah! that air of early morning, how it strengthens and refreshes the heart as the healing balm of its great silence spreads softly over the wounds we bear!

When they reached the field bordered by the tufted hazel bushes and the hawthorns, whose sprays were thrust up against the sky like pencil strokes drawn there, the reapers got into line, the farmer at their head, followed by Samuel, who swung his scythe the widest and made the largest swath. The first reaper described a great semicircle with his scythe among the thick high flowers, whose colors could not as yet be distinguished, and as they fell pell-mell before it, all the vigorous arms were stretched forth, ready to swing when their turn came. In the transparent twilight the curved glitter of the blades beat a measured tune as they whistled through the

tender wet stems. The swaths stretched out regular and even, like ripples which the dawn touched with delicate color. From time to time some one stopped to whet the dull steel with the stone which he drew from its wooden case hung from his belt; it was passed two or three times, shrieking, across the edge of the blade, and then the work was begun again, after a word or two about the luxuriance of the grass, or the number of mole-hills this year.

When the sun pierced with his first ray the fringe of pine woods at the top of the fields,

suddenly the dew sparkled, white mists rose from the earth and floated over the swarths like a

shroud for the dead flowers. It was then that they stopped to look at the heavens, and to consult the clouds, and to see if from the depths of the valley the fog was rising.

And when he went down through the field, Samuel with his heavy scythe on his shoulder was always gayer than when he went up, not be cause of any arguments he had found, nor be cause hope had come to him, but work, our benefactor, had made him forget his pain.

The other delightful moment of the haying time was the evening, when, supper over, the scythes sharpened, there was nothing further to do. Then the men sat in a circle around the doorway, the women appeared from time to time on its sill, and in the dark background gleamed the lamp lighted in the kitchen.

Mental Food.

From Wadsworth's “How to Get Muscular.”
(Randolph.)

WE are ready now, I think, to apply these general principles to the question of spiritual strength. The mind cannot get strong without food, and a great deal depends upon the kind of food taken. There are mental foods which make fat, and there are mental foods that make muscle. The amount of nourishment contained in the various kinds differs greatly. There is the light novel which is like whipped cream. It is pleasant reading undoubtedly, but it is not beneficial. Taken as a steady diet it is ruinous. The mind fed solely on it becomes utterly strengthless and pitiably flimsy. There are multitudes to-day whose minds were never fed on anything stronger than summer fiction. This is good as a dessert, as the last course to a substantial meal. But, alas! for the mental life of any one who finds in such reading the sole staple of intellectual nourishment. Regarding the mind as an organism, there are certain things which we must give it to eat if we would make it strong. The staple of the mind's food is of course truth. This is what the mind hungers for. It is all the while searching for truth. In all its explorations, in all its activities, in all its sciences, and philosophies, and arts, it is reaching after truth. How it rejoices when it discovers any new truth or fact! Such a discovery marks an epoch in its history. It feasts on that truth as a hungry man on bread. See, too, how strong it becomes after eating this food. How amazingly the mind of man increased in power after the discovery made by Sir Isaac Newton! Man's intellect fed on the law of gravitation; it grew; it ceased to be a child's intellect; it stood up and looked abroad. It outgrew its old foolish conceptions of the universe. It took grander views, it grasped larger ideas. It became strong because it was fed on truth.

Jessie in the Storm.

From Grey's “In the Heart of the Storm." (Appleton.) JESSIE had done her errand that sultry afternoon; the woman of the house then begged her to sit down and rest after her walk. "It's a good step from Redwoods, miss," she said, looking her fibre, keenly sensitive to the fact that Mrs. Woodover with a curiosity that Jessie felt in every ford had never before regarded her with such inWun't ye bide till the starm's blowed ever?" terest. "It's gwine to thunder afore long.

"Thunder!" echoed Jessie. "Oh, I hope the short way, Mrs. Woodford; thank you.' not. I must hurry home then. I'll run quick

of common toward the wood, scarcely turning She left the cottage, and struck across a piece her head when Mrs. Woodford called after her to offer an umbrella.. The heavens were now dark with gathering storm, the cottage fire glowed redly from the open door, lighting up the tall oak-cased clock and throwing into strong relief the figure of the cottager in the door-way crying, "You'd better bide, you'd better bide." felt the hot glow from the lurid wall of purple Swiftly she sped over the soundless turf. She storm advancing against the wind before her, and quivered with the indescribable nervous trouble thunder always caused her. It did not exactly terrify her, it was simply intolerable to her nerves. Lightning and thunder, together with the oppression of air overcharged with electricity, distressed and prostrated her; her only thought now was to get home, where she would throw herself into Sarah's arms and bury her face. As a child she had passed through many storms with her head covered by Philip's jacket and her face pressed against him; her great horror was to be alone in these nervous crises, when the touch of some familiar and loving hand alone soothed her.

She plunged into the woodland, the warning, "You'd better bide, you'd better bide," of the hospitable cottager echoing in her ear. The sky was iron-hued where it was not lurid with swiftgathering tempest, the brooding expectancy of the gray, still afternoon had changed to one disquiet of imminent trouble; the long grasses shuddered, the dry leaves rustled anxiously and complained upon the trees which groaned as if foreboding pain; cows and sheep moved restlessly about the pastures, birds fluttered with anxious cries from the sere foliage, all the woods shivered before the impending terror. The day was like Jessie's life.

She was too late to outrun the storm; she felt herself drawn beneath the dark wings of it; the hot breath of it lifted her hair and came in fitful gusts through the creaking trees, whirling clouds of sere leaves hither and thither. Suddenly, with a crack and a crash and a long booming roar, the awful thing burst right above her head. How frail she was before this iron blast, and how futile her speed against the rapid stride of the tempest!

Some large scattered drops fell on the dry yellow leaves she pressed on, panting and shrinking. She went blindly, closing her eyes to the dazzle of the lightning, and saw nothing till the rustle of a quick step through the dead leaves and the sound of a voice through the storm made her look up with an involuntary cry of joy into Claude Medway's face.

"Claude!" she cried, knowing and remember. ing nothing but that she was safe and calm and happy after all the tumults and trouble.

ART, MUSIC, DRAMA. HOLLAND, H. S., and ROCKSTRO, W. S. Jenny Lind, the artist, 1820 to 1851; a memoir of her early art-life and dramatic career. Scribner. 2 v., por. 8°, $7.50.

44

The memoirs of Jenny Lind are attracting great attention in England, where the celebrated singer was especially dear to the thousands who delight in oratorio. "It is," says a distinguished musical critic, as a singer of oratorio, and in particular of the soprano music in 'Elijah,' that she deserves the homage of the English people.' Though she was not the original exponent of this music, it is brought out clearly in these memoirs that Mendelssohn had the peculiarities of her voice in mind when writing such numbers as "Hear ye, Israel!" or the Holy! holy holy!" Between her and the noted composer there was a lasting and ideal friendship, and in these new memoirs not the least interesting contributions are Mendelssohn's graceful and delicate letters. Much stress is laid upon the absolute harmony between the noble sincerity of Jenny Lind's private character and her absolute nobility in art. This harmonious combination was noted when she first appeared, and by her own countrymen. She identified herself so completely with the characters which she assumed that she was quite lost to her real surroundings. When asked on one occasion, when singing in "Robert le Diable," how she thought she had interpreted the passage in which she clings to the cross, she answered: "How could I tell how I sang it? I stood at the man's right hand and the Fiend at his left, and all I could think of was how to save him.-Boston Journal.

Redgrave, G. R. David Cox and Peter De Wint. Scribner. 12°, (Illustrated biographies of great artists.) $1.25.

"Is devoted to the lives and works of two contemporary landscape painters, David Cox and Peter De Wint. Cox, the son of a Birmingham mechanic, was a man of much simplicity of character, kind and sincere in his friendships, of a sociable and cheerful disposition, and withal an artist of pronounced originality. He cared more for tone and color than for form, and in every motion of his brush he apparently aimed first at truthfulness. There is in his productions an atmospheric effect as characteristic of his touch as it is impossible to analyze. Of De Wint, Mr. Redgrave writes chiefly as the friend of William Hilton, an artist,' he says, who was never rightly understood, and as a sturdy and devoted admirer of English scenery, which he has taught many to love and to appreciate.' De Wint came, as the name sufficiently indicates, of Dutch ancestry. De Wint as an artist had not the power and individuality of Cox, but he expressed a sympathy with the every-day commoner aspects of English landscape in a manner that won something very like affection from the home-loving English public. Mr. Redgrave's book has full

lists of the works of the two painters whose biographies are included in the volume."-The Beacon.

SPARMANN, HELEN M. An attempt at an analysis of music. Rob. Clarke. sq. 12°, pap., 50 c.

The author was formerly Professor of Music at the College of Music, Cincinnati. The essay begins with an analysis of the statements Leibnitz, Schopenhauer, Kant, Schelling, Hegel, Vischer, Lazarus and other philosophers have made on music. She claims there must be a model for music in nature. Sculpture and painting represent shape and color, and music represents motion, is a form of motion. Music is especially associated with emotions; emotions move and often produce vocal sounds, or make the sounds of the human voice more musical.

BIOGRAPHY, CORRESPONDENCE, ETC. BANCROFT, H. H. Literary industries: a memoir. Harper. 12°, $1.50. BASHKIRTSEFF, MARIE. Letters of Marie Bashkirtseff; tr. by Mary J. Serrano. Cassell. 12°, $1.50.

FROTHINGHAM, OCTAVIUS BROOKS. Recollections and impressions, 1822-1890. Putnam. $1.50.

GUERIN, GEORGES MAURICE DE. Journal; ed. by G. S. Trebutien; with a biographical and literary memoir by Sainte-Beuve; from the 20th French ed. by Jessie P. Frothingham. Dodd, M. 12°, $1.25.

HODGKIN, T. Theodoric the Goth: the barbarian champion of civilization. Putnam. il. maps, (Heroes of the nations.) $1.50.

"It is needless to expatiate upon the erudition and the literary style of Dr. Hodgkin's interesting book. The author of Italy and her Invaders' has won too high a rank in the literature of the period to be praised as a tyro. In the present instance, moreover, he is treading familiar ground, for the history and deeds of Theodoric are dealt with at length in his larger work. He has, however, so governed his work in accord with his limitation of space as to produce a complete and well-proportioned picture. When we consider the paucity and many deficiencies of the authorities available for the fifth century, this signifies a great deal. No more excellent volume has appeared in the Heroes of the Nations' series, it may finally be said."-N. Y. Tribune. MANN, HORACE. Life and works. Library ed.]

Lee & Shepard. 12°, net, $12.50. Contents: V. 1. Life of Horace Mann, by his wife. 2. Annual reports of the Secretary of the

Bd. of Education of Mass. for 1837-38, incl. the first Annual Report of the Bd. of Education; also lectures on education. 3. Annual reports of the Secretary of the Bd. of Education of Mass. for 1839-1844. 4. Annual reports for 1845-48. 5. Educational writings consisting of contributions to the Common School Journal and addresses.

PINTO, FERDINAND MENDEZ. Voyages and adventures, the Portuguese done into English by Henry Cogan, with an introduction by Arminius Vambéry. An abridged and illustrated edition. Macmillan. 12°, (The adventure series.) $1.50.

RUSSELL, G. W. The right honorable William Ewart Gladstone. Harper. 12, (The prime ministers of Queen Victoria ser.) $1.25.

MAGAZINE ARTICLES.

General Sherman. Ropes. Atlantic.

The German Emperor. Bigelow. Century.
Court Jesters of England.* Singleton. Cosmopolitan.
The Woman's Press Club of New York.* Mathews.
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Sir John Macdonald. Colmer. Fort. Review (July).
Lord Byron's Early School-Days. Blaikie. Harper's.
Thoreau and His Biographers. Sam'l A. Jones. Lip-
pincott's.

Walt Whitman's Birthday. Traubel. Lippincott's.
The Spartans of Paris.* Read. Mag. Am. History.
Right Rev. Samuel Provoost. Hartley. Mag. Am.
History.

Character Sketch of Gladstone. Curry. Mag. Am.
History.

Friedrich W. A. Argelander. (Por.) Pop. Science. DESCRIPTION, GEOGRAPHY, TRAVEL, ETC. - ROBERTS, C. G. D. The Canadian guide-book: the tourist's and sportsman's guide to Eastern Canada and Newfoundland; with an appendix giving fish and game laws and official lists of trout and salmon rivers and their lessees. Appleton. 16°, il. maps, $1.25.

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Life on the South Shoal Lightship.* Kobbé. Century. Play in Provence.* Pennell. Century.

Cape Horn and Coöperative Mining in '49.* Farwell. Century.

Old Chautauqua Days.* Flood. Chautauquan. Travelling in Provincial France. Pennell. Chautauquan.

The Ducal Town of Uzès.* Janvier. Cosmopolitan.
The Dukeries.* Pelham-Clinton. Cosmopolitan.
New Zealand.* Grant. Harper's.

Glimpses of Western Architecture.-I. Chicago. Schuyler. Harper's.

Vigilantes of California, Idaho and Montana. Clampitt. Harper's.

London-Plantagenet.-I. Ecclesiastical.* Besant. Har

per's.

Big Game in Colorado.* Ingersoll. Outing.
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WHITE, Mrs. SALLIE JOY. Business openings for girls. Lothrop. il. 16°, 75 c.

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BRADDON, Miss. The world, the flesh and the devil. United States Book Co. 12°, (Lovell's international series, no. 165.) pap., 50 c.

CAIRD, MONA. A romance of the moors. Holt. (Leisure hour ser.) $1; pap., 25 c.

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COMBE, T. A question of love: a story of Switzerland; from the French, by Annie R. Ramsey. 16°, $1.

CONWAY, MONCURE D. Prisons of air. United States Book Co. 12°, (Lovell's American authors ser., no. 35.) pap., 50 c.

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ENAULT, LOUIS. Carine: a story of Sweden. Translated from the French by Linda da Kowalewska, with forty illustrations by Louis K. Harlow. Little, Brown & Co. $1.25. FORSTER, H. O. ARNOLD. In a conning tower; or, how I took H. M. S. Majestic into action: a story of modern ironclad warfare; il. by W. H. Overend. Cassell. sq. 12°, pap., 50 c. Reprinted by permission from Murray's Magazine. A story in which the author has attempted

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GREY, MAXWELL, [pseud. for M. G. Tuttiett.] In the heart of the storm: a tale of modern chivalry. United States Book Co. 12°, (Seaside lib., no. 1839.) pap., 30 c.

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LORNE, Marquis of. From shadow to sunlight. Appleton. 16°, hf. cl., 50 c.

Scene is laid in Scotland; afterwards shifts to

America. The simple plot deals with the love of a young Englishman for a fair American. The Marquis of Lorne was Lieut.-Governor of Canada for some time.

MAIRET, Mme. Jeanne. An artist; from the French, by Anna Dyer Page. Cassell. (Cassell's sunshine ser., no. 76.) 75 c.; pap., 50 c. MUSICK, J. R. Columbia: a story of the discovery of America. Worthington. (Worthington's international lib., no. 19.) hf. roxb.. $1.25; pap., 75 c.

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OLIPHANT, Mrs. MARY O. W. The heir-presumptive and the heir-apparent. United States Book Co. 12°, (Lovell's international ser., no. 156.) pap., 50 c.

PAYN, JA. Sunny stories and some shady ones.
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Old Raclot was a French peasant who had acquired a million francs through many mean, selfish and morally dishonest acts. His daughter Marthe, a beautiful young girl, educated at a convent, is ignorant of her father's true character, and is surprised on coming back to her native town to find so little warmth or affection shown to her by her former playmates. One day she overhears a conversation between two men, in which her father's rapacious greed is frankly dwelt upon. This changes her whole life. She breaks her engagement to a good young man and returns to her convent. Her father's death shortly afterwards allows her to carry out a widespreading scheme of returning to his victims the money of which he had despoiled them.

RUSSELL, W. CLARKE. My Danish sweetheart: a novel. Harper. 12°, (Harper's Franklin sq. lib., new series, no. 701.) pap., 60 c. SALES, PIERRE. A fair American; tr. by Laura E. Kendall. Rand, McN. 12°, (Rialto ser., no. 35.) pap., 50 c.

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STOCKTON, FRANK R. The Rudder Grangers abroad, and other stories. Scribner. 12°, $1.25.

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The rules of the Bachelors' Club were so strict that the membership never exceeded a full dozen. Their club-room was decorated with mottoes cal.

culated to keep continually before them the depths of misery that await all who commit matrimony. In spite of all, one by one the and the humorous accounts of how and why each twelve bachelors take unto themselves wives. one fell from the high pedestal of bachelorhood into the slough of matrimony fill the pages of

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MAGAZINE FICTION. Old Hickory's Ball. Dromgoole. Arena. The Marriages. James. Atlantic. Thumb-Nail Sketches: Moglashen.* Century. A Common Story. Balestier. Century. The Li tle Renault.* Catherwood. Century. The White Crown. H. D. Ward. Century. The Clown and the Missionary. Roseboro. Century. African Myths and Legends. Chatelain. Chautauquan. According to St. John.* Amélie Rives. Cosmopolitan. Romance of an Hour.* Bowles. Cosmopolitan. Zan Zoo. Heath. Harper's.

Luck. Mark Twain. Harper's.

A Daughter's Heart. Mrs. H. L. Cameron. Lippincott's. My Adventure with Edgar Allan Poe. Hawthorn. Lippincott's.

The Mystery of University Oval. Keeler. Outing.
The Anatomist of the Heart.* Sullivan. Scribner's.
The Wrecker.-I. Stevenson and Osbourne. Scribner's.

Uneffectual Fire.* Annie Eliot. Scribner's.

At the Ranch of the Holy Cross.* Hayes. Scribner's.
Elsket. Page. Scribner's.
Song of the Comforter. A'Becket. Scribner's.