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torically, and we are not so speaking and a darkness that can be felt are "Bathed in deep silence" is no figure kindred phrases; they are more, they of speech to us: it states a fact. Si- are kindred facts; one speaks of a silence is felt by man as a thing vast, lence of darkness. It is easy to say voluminous, slowly enwrapping him, that it simply means that when it is clinging, and finally submerging him; dark few people are about That is not painfully, but pleasantly, peace- not enough. Darkness produces much fully, easefully. It grows and gathers the same feeling that silence does. round one quietly like a great mist. It enwraps you in the same way. We Sometimes, when mind or body is not say naturally the same things of both. quite sane, not quite whole, there is It is more than accidental association. terror in silence. The sense of sink- Is it a contradiction of this that we ing in a vast silence is then like drown. also speak of the silence of light? ing, and one cries out to break it, any. There is a silence of light.

His range thing to struggle out of the flood that is of feeling must be beggarly who has closing over us. This is a morbid never felt the silence of light. Has he mood; Do natural effect of silence. never stood alone on a broad greenUsually as one feels silence gathering sward flooded with slanting sunlight? round him, permeating, flowing through Or let him stand in a spacious room of him, it is more like the refreshment of some great museum, alone, with the sleep or a bath. If this is not a sen- sun pouring in a broad stretch of light. sation, it is strangely like it. After a across the uncarpeted oak floor. The full day, perhaps a trying day, sit fine phrase "loca nocte silentia late" down absolutely alone in a large room, might have run as truly “loca luce siand listen for the silence. Gradually lentia late." Darkness and light have you will feel something stealing over an element in common. And so have you; the shaken parts of the strained heat and cold. The silence of cold is machine will slowly settle in their proverbial. No one is so dull as not places, and harmony return. You are to have felt the intoxicating silence absolutely passive. The silence is to of a great frost. And the silence of you as external as water flowing up heat is hardly less strong. Stand around you.

If you leave yourself alone in an old garden-you must passive long enough, which it is not be alone, of course, for the soul in sowise to do, it will possess you, almost ciety cannot feel these things-a Lethe-like. It is the same out of doors: walled garden by choice, at the hottest on the downs in the evening or on the hour of the day. The heat becomes a water. It is curious too that the spell living thing, and the silence becomes of silence is not broken by every sound. a living thing. You feel them both Some sounds seem almost to add to it: brooding over the ground; they are a clock ticking in the large room with presences; they become the only presno one in it, the single twitter of a ences. The chirp of a grasshopper or bird, the ripple of water, the needles the song of a yellow-hammer almost falling in a pine wood. These sounds startles you out of your possession by help us to measure silence, as land- the silence and the heat. Silence and marks do space. Silence is perhaps heat and cold and dark and light and most felt with the coming of dark- flooding waters have a common soul ness. A silence that


be felt somehow. The Saturday Review


To their dainty list of year books deroted to favorite authors, Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. are adding two new volumes, "A Longfellow Calendar," and “A Ruskin Calendar.". They will be ready in the early autumn.

by Mr. John Bassett Moore, and published by the J. B. Lippincott Co., cove ers the years from 1838 to 1841. The comprehensive plan of this work ad. mits of the inclusion not only of Mr. Buchanan's state papers and speeches but of his private correspondence, in which are embraced some extremely human epistles, reflecting the character of the man and disclosing his passing moods. The state papers and speeches are marked by dignity and deliberation, and to browse through the volumes, whether in the pages devoted to these more formal utterances or those occupied by private letters, is to recall old contentions and struggles and to witness in the making some of the most important periods of American history.

Professor Richard T. Ely's "Outlines of Economics," first published in 1903, appears in a new and materially enlarged edition from the press of the Macmillan Co. The author has had the assistance of Professor Thomas S. Adams and Assistant Professor Max 0. Lorenz of the University of Wisconsin, and of Professor Allyn A. Young of the Leland Stanford Junior l'niversity in the preparation of this edition, and in the process, most of the chapters have been practically rewritten and new ones have been added, but the general plan of the earlier work has been retained.

Lovers of Everyman's Library will be glad to hear of an addition of 23 volumes to the 317 already listed. The new ones are in every respect worthy of their distinguished predecessors, including as they do, among their number Benjamin Franklin's “Autobiog. raphy," Gaskell's "Life of Charlotte Bronte," Hazlitt's “Table Talk," Emerson's "Conduct of Life,” as well as ten volumes of fiction, Kinglake's' “E0then," Burke's “American Speeches," and other first-rate titles in History and Literature. The general tendency noticeable at the present time in colleges and schools to go back to original texts, instead of using annotated extracts, has caused quite a number of discerning teachers to adopt the titles of this Library as text-books for class use.

The Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Conpany publish several volumes for young people, in which old favorites are represented, old series of tales are continued, and new ones are begun. Mr. Edward Stratemeyer adds a volume to his Lakeport Series, “The Boat Club Boys of Lakeport," which is a vivid and wholesome portrayal of water sports for boys; Martha James adds a volume, the third, to her Pigeon Camp Series, "The Hero of Pigeon Camp," a stirring story of school-boy experiences in a summer camp; Mrs. Kate E. Carpenter tells "The Story of Frederick the Great for Boys and Girls" with the same engaging simplicity and directness which characterized her earlier “Story of Joan of Arc for Boys and Girls"; Amy Brooks opens a new series of books for small girl readers, the Prue Books, with a volume called "Lit. tle Sister Prue," which is prettily tolul and derives a special advantage from the fact that the author is her own illustrator; and Alice Turner Curtis

The fourth volume of The Works of James Buchanan, collected and edited

opens the Little Heroine Series with “A gardère certainly deserves the praise. Little Heroine of Illinois,” a story Harper & Brothers. which carries us back to the early days of the Civil War, and describes the Mr. W. A. B. Coolidge's "The Alps rather surprising part which a little in Nature and History" is, he says, the girl was enabled to play in stirring result of forty years of wandering, and times. All of these books are illus- when one considers the enormous numtrated, and in each case the story is ber of dates, figures denoting height, of independent interest, although it in- depth and distance, the anecdotes and troduces characters and scenes that ap- recorded circumstances contained bepear in other volumes of the same se- tween its covers one is ready to declare ries.

that forty years would not suffice to

master the book. Fortunately, the Mr. Justin Huntley McCarthy's “The reader is not expected to do this but Duke's Motto" goes the way of all mod- may use or neglect any part as suits his ern plays and appears as a novel, less occasions, inasmuch as they are not artificial in manner than most of its interdependent. Mr. George Yell's species, but so abounding in petty er- chapter on “Alpine Flowers," Mr. V. rors as to suggest a conspiracy of Knox's on "Some Beasts and Birds of printer, typewriter, and proofreader, the Alps," and the author's on “The Alwith some little assistance from the pine Folk” are valuable taken sepaauthor. A fair specimen of these er- rately. The Western, Central, and rors is the statement that certain bra- Eastern Alps, and their history are voes of the reign of Louis Thirteenth individually treated, and the great did not in 1726 look like soldiers, be- passes have a chapter to themselves. cause they lacked the stiffness of the

A surprising number of curious inci. "levies of the Sun King." Now, Louis dents are included in these narratives Fourteenth was born in 1738. The and many an odd bit of geography is story begins with the assassination of explained. The exploration of the the Duke de Nevers, friend of Louis High Alps up to 1865, modern mounThirteenth, master of wonderful taineering, guides, and “A Year's sword thrust, and using “I am here". Round” occupy whole chapters, and as his motto. His infant daughter the divisions and groups of the range and the proofs of her legitimacy are are carefully defined and described. given by his wife to Henri Lagardère, In the appendices are lists of the prina wonderful swordsman, and in due cipal peaks and passes, and a list of time the girl grows up and has to be re- the peaks in the order in which stored to her mother, and to the court. they

conquered. A list Lagardère engages in more fights than works relating to the Alps

com. one can count, but always for a good pletes the text. The illustrations reason, and is always a gallant gentle- are carefully described, figures be

In the preface, Mr. McCarthy, ing given as to heights and disdedicating the book to M. Sardou, crea- tances, and good paths being desigtor of Lagardère, calls him peer of nated, and a map of the entire region d'Artagnan and Cyrano and almost is folded into the book which, although peer of Roland and Oliver, and as the it meets the wants of so many classes champion of Gabrielle de Nevers, La- of readers, is not dear. E. P. Dutton

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& Co.



This is the rose she threw away-
I plucked it from a damask spray
And bade her wear it for my sake;
Small progress did my wooing make-
She only saw the tiny thorn
By which her little hand was torn.

A few days ago I dreamed that I was steering a very gay and elaborate ship upon some narrow water with many people upon its banks, and that there was a figure upon a bed in the middle of the ship. The people were pointing to the figure and questioning, and in my dream I sang verses which faded as I awoke, all but this fragmentary thought, “We call it, it has such dignity of limb, by the sweet name of Death." I have made iny poem out of my dream and the sentiment of my dream, and can almost say, as Blake did, "The Authors are in Eternity.”

Towards that small white gate she

sped, The sparrows twittered overhead, A lark sprang up from out the grassI vowed I would not let her pass Until at least I knew my fateSuch coquetry was out of date. A bush of syringa looked down Upon her forehead's puckered frown, Then tossed some blossoms in her

hair,And she, she let them linger there. "Cupid is crowning you," I cried, “The orange

flower proclaims the bride." Ah, when at length she raised her eyes, My garden-it was Paradise!

Annie G. Hopkins. The Pall Mall Magazine.

There on the high and painted stern
I held a painted steering oar,
And everywhere that I could turn
Men ran upon the shore.

And though I would have hushed the

crowd, There was no mother's son but said, "What is the figure in a shroud Upon a painted bed ?”

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'Twas there she turned and mocked at

me, Just by that snow-white lilac tree: “What did I want with woman's love? Flowers filled my life all else above." Ah, when she seemed to scorn me so, My garden-'twas a Vale of Woe.

Plough, husbandman, long furrows,

Fling, sower, undismayed, In groves of birch and alder Tweed sheathes bis steel-bright

blade. The Spectator.

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