:

lantern slides of scenes. He is disposed to advise his friends not to make a single journey round the globe, but to bisect the world, and take half at a time. - The Partridge Natural History, by the Rev. H. A. Macpherson; Shooting, by A. J. StuartWortley; Cookery, by George Saintsbury. Fur and Feather Series. (Longmans.) One of a series of monographs on English game birds and beasts. It is not so limited in scope as would appear at first sight, for the partridge touches English life at a number of points. In fact, if there were room on the title-page for the sub-title English Traits, it would not more than cover the range of a delightful volume in which we learn all about the partridge from the egg to the dinner table, besides having an incidental glimpse of some of the finest traits of English character, and an opportunity to observe the admirable training for literature and politics afforded by an organized national sport. Mr. Macpherson celebrates the partridge in sober and simple fashion, Mr. Saintsbury shows literary skill and zest, and Mr. Stuart-Wortley's writing is clever, spontaneous, and thoroughly felicitous in tone. Beyond the Rockies, a Spring Journey in California, by Charles A. Stoddard. (Scribners.) Dr. Stoddard, who has served his apprenticeship as a traveler in foreign countries, here shows his training in the natural manner in which he touches lightly on the mere circumstance of travel, and occupies himself with the more permanent impressions formed on a journey from New York to New Orleans, thence to Texas, to New Mexico and Arizona, in Southern California, California, and home by Salt Lake. It is a journey which many people take, and which they will find agreeable to repeat in this easily flowing narrative. Literature and Literary History. Prose Fancies, by Richard Le Gallienne. (Putnams.) Some twenty-five brief essays on light topics more or less connected with the life of a man of letters. They are graceful, touched now and then with genuine poetic feeling, and gay with a merry humor. They are, nevertheless, — shall we say it? — affected by what we may term a journalistic consciousness, a cleverness of the moment which means good "copy." Coming across them singly in a weekly journal, one is glad of such a sauce of good literature; coming upon them together in a deliberate book,

erature.

one thinks how journalism is tingeing litHistory of the English Language, by T. R. Lounsbury. (Holt.) The general history of the language and the detailed account of the changes in inflection - both of which, by the way, have been revised and enlarged-are addressed, of course, chiefly to scholars, and for the needs of such the book is, within its own limits, admirably adequate. But it is surely not only to scholars that a history of the language of Shakespeare and of modern London must appeal, the language of the man who knew life best, and of "the particular spot where," as Henry James says, "one's sense of life is strongest." For it is only by this intimate union with life- - with what is best and most vital in life—that a history of even the mother tongue can hold the attention of the general reader. And such a union the meaning and the promise of it - Professor Lounsbury shows in his clean-cut, vigorous account of the varying fortunes of our language.

Philosophy and Religion. La Définition de la Philosophie, par Ernest Naville. (Georg et Cie., Genève et Bâle.) It is philosophy “in the aibstract" that M. Naville defines, but the bounds of his definition form the outline of a system of modern Christian philosophy. Rejecting both rationalism and empiricism as exclusive of one or another set of phenomena, he preaches spiritualism, and seeks to reconcile science and religion by means of a synthesis which shall account at once for physical laws and the course of history. He first considers the explanation of phenomena according to class, law, cause, and design (l'explication par la classe, par la loi, par la cause, et par le but), laying stress upon psychical laws, introducing the will as a cause libre, and putting design on equal footing with cause as a subject of investigation. He then discusses the scientific method of arriving at truth through proposition (constatation), supposition, and verification, and then proceeds to the treatment of the philosophic processes of analysis, hypothesis, and synthesis, giving hypothesis equal rank with the others, and considering the doctrines included in religious dogma as hypotheses to be examined by philosophy. The style is very clear and simple, and the arrangement of the book is almost geometric, each axiom being printed in italics at the head of the chapter which elucidates it, duly numbered

for purposes of cross-reference, and included in a summary at the end of the volume. The first of four volumes to be devoted to the writings of Thomas Paine has been published. The writings are collected and edited by Mr. Moncure D. Conway, who has already rendered important service by his Life of Thomas Paine. This volume covers the period from 1774 to 1779, and, with the exception of a few trifles at the beginning from a magazine edited by Paine, is occupied with his political papers, including Common Sense, The American Crisis, and other papers bearing the signature "Common Sense." The homely force of these papers is distinguishable now, and it is easy to see what an impression they must have made when the subjects were not historical, but related to conduct and action immediately. - The King and the Kingdom, a Study of the Four Gospels. (Putnams, New York; Williams & Norgate, London.) There is no occasion to criticise with undue severity an anonymous author who writes in his preface, "Not scholarship, as may easily be seen, but only earnestness of thought and sincerity of purpose can be urged in favor of this work." Its object is to present a diatessaron, drawn from various translations, amplified by remarks of the commentators, especially Dean Alford, and lavishly expounded by the author himself. His wish has been to present the simple gospel, innocent alike of dogmatic theology and "higher criticism." This, it seems to us, could have been done more effectively than in three goodly volumes without the reliefs of subdivisions into chapters or parts. And surely, the writer, when he came to the Widow's Mite, should not have let himself be enticed into the great questions of philanthropy, - from Foreign Missions down to the Country Holiday Charity. - A Chorus of Faith, as heard in the Parliament of Religions held in Chicago, September 10-27, 1893, with an Introduction by Jenkin Lloyd Jones. (Unity Publishing Co., Chicago.) To judge from Mr. Jones's Introduction, and from the many pages of extracts from addresses of welcome and farewell which stand at the beginning and end of this volume, there was no dearth of flamboyant oratory in Chicago. The speakers were "strangely moved ” with the sense of a

supreme moment"

and with many another great thought. The bulk of the book gives brief passages from

many speeches by many types of men on such universal themes as Brotherhood and the Soul. Of course there was harmony, and much prophecy of great good to all the world; and sad enough it is to reflect that within a year Chicago, the very seat of the Parliament, has had its Debs, and the country its session of Congress. It is still very much the same world. - Papers of the Jewish Women's Congress, held at Chicago, September 4, 5, 6, and 7, 1893. (The Jewish Publication Society of America, Philadelphia.) The papers and discussions were almost wholly by women in this congress, and treated historically of Jewish women at different periods, women as wage-workers, Influence of the Jewish Religion in the Home, Mission Work among the Unenlightened Jews, and finally considered How can Nations be Influenced to Protest or even Interfere in Cases of Persecution? where the topic was specifically the current persecution of the Jews in Russia. A True Son of Liberty, or, The Man who would not be a Patriot, by F. P. Williams. (Saalfield & Fitch, New York.) A somewhat confused attempt at setting off a single-minded adherence to Christ against what the writer appears to think an entirely worldly conception underlying the principles of American nationality. A little more effort at seeing God in history might release him - The from his very strained attitude. Question of Unity, edited by Amory H. Bradford. (The Christian Literature Co., New York.) We have already commented on Dr. Shields's remarkable essay on the Historic Episcopate. Dr. Bradford conceived the notion of inviting criticism upon the book from representative leaders of different religious orders. He introduces the collection, and allows Dr. Shields the final word in gathering up the general impressions. They are scarcely more than impressions, for the space given each is limited, and as such they are rather the outcome of general thought than specific studies of the question under consideration. The little book will hardly give impetus to the movement for unity, but it makes a sort of weathercock to show which way the wind is blowing. It veers like most weathercocks, but is reasonably steady.

Books for and about the Young. Twenty Little Maidens, by Amy E. Blanchard. Illustrations by Ida Waugh. (Lippincott.)

Twenty pretty stories with little girls for heroines. They are natural children, and the story-teller has pleasing fancies about them while she is telling the trifling incidents of their adventures. The good taste and refined feeling of the book make it somewhat exceptional, and the simple manner in which the children are shown either helping or being helped marks the wholesomeness of the tales. The Chronicles of Faeryland, Fantastic Tales for Old and Young, by Fergus Hume. Illustrated by M. Dunlop. (Lippincott.) Mr. Hume uses his inventive power more effectively here than in his grown-up stories, for his skill is in the narrating of adventures without too close regard for their logic or their probability, and these fairy tales are a free handling of the familiar conventions. They have a zest about them which is quite attractive. No Heroes, by Blanche Willis Howard. (Houghton.) A bright story of generous self-sacrifice in a boy, and so couched in the natural language of boyhood, half formed, fun concealing feeling, and nature concerning herself more with the block than the sculpture, that a manly boy will read it without discomfort, and take to heart a lesson which he might refuse to commit to memory. The Sunny Days of Youth, a Book for Boys and Young Men, by the Author of How to be Happy Though Married. (Scribners.) The writer, in his accustomed colloquial and informal fashion, gives very sound advice or warning on a great variety of matters relating to both major and minor morals. Even careless or unliterate youth will probably find the book easily readable, as its admonitions are plentifully illustrated by anecdotes, always apposite, and sometimes new, or as good as new.

Textbooks. From Henry Holt & Co. we have four textbooks for French classes, each prepared by an instructor of American youth. The first, except for the type and the publishers' imprint, has an air entirely French, as its title-page will show : Histoire de la Littérature Française, par Alcée Fortier, Professeur à l'Université Tulane de la Louisiane. In the language of the works with which it deals, it enumerates and briefly characterizes the principal authors and books in the whole course of the history of France, ce grand pays," as the writer declares with pardonable zeal,

66

"qui s'appela la Gaule de Vercengétorix, et qui est maintenant la France républicaine." Of the other books it is necessary only to say that they have been carefully equipped with all devices to aid the learner. Their titles are: Michel Strogoff, par Jules Verne, abridged and edited, with Notes, by Edwin Seelye Lewis (Princeton); Selections from Victor Hugo, Prose and Verse, edited, with Introduction and Notes, by F. M. Warren (Adelbert College); and Contes de Daudet (including La Belle-Nivernaise), edited, with Introduction, Notes, and Indices, by A. Guyot Cameron (Yale).· Livre de Lecture et de Conversation, by C. Fontaine. (Heath.) A judicious mingling, entirely in French, of simple readings, questions, and drill in the forms of language, especially the verbs. It is the author's belief that the expression of Goethe regarding the Greeks as his favorite writers may well be modified by learners of the French tongue into "les verbes, les verbes, et toujours les verbes." But it is not forgotten, as teachers sometimes forget, that conjugations and language are distinct things; and the writer's practical purpose is to bring them vitally together. In Heath's Modern Language Series a new number is Genin's Le Petit Tailleur Bonton, edited, with Notes, Vocabulary, and Appendices, by W. S. Lyon. The pupil is lifted bodily over every stone in the way. In the same series is Gustav Freytag's Der Rittmeister von Alt-Rosen, edited by J. T. Hatfield. The book is judiciously equipped with historical apparatus and a reasonable body of notes. - A somewhat novel venture is Petite Histoire de la Littérature Française depuis les Origines jusqu'à nos Jours, par Delphine Duval, Professor of French in Smith College. (Heath.) Here the somewhat dubious introduction of the pupil to the history of literature by means of a manual, illustrated sparingly by examples, at least in verse, is justified by the fact that the pupil is at the same time enjoying practice in the language. - Old English Ballads, selected and edited by Francis B. Gummere. (Ginn.) In the interesting and valuable introduction to this well-selected and carefully-edited volume of ballads, Professor Gummere discusses thoroughly the question of their origin. He concludes in favor of a very sensible sort of "communal" authorship. Incidentally, he sug

gests the deep human interest and meaning of these "survivals of a vanished world of poetry." In doing so, however, he seems to disparage what he inadequately calls the "poetry of the schools." But perhaps this is due only to his effort to gain a wider hearing for that poetry which is distinguished by its lack of personal sentiment and reflection, and by a peculiar charm of spontaneity.

Social Philosophy. The Cosmopolis City Club, by Rev. Washington Gladden. (The Century Co.) Cosmopolis is a city of Utopia, though its club and the doings thereof pertain wholly to our own land. This book,

which readers of the Century Magazine will recall, tells of the talks and achievements of an imaginary group of men who believed with Andrew D. White that "the city governments of the United States are the worst in Christendom, the most expensive, the most inefficient, and the most corrupt." Believing as they did, these men banded themselves together to improve the affairs of their own city; and this they accomplished, establishing in the end a new and reformed city charter. Though in the form of fiction, the book describes what might perfectly well be, indeed in several cities has been, fact.

At the Inn of IT is rather amusing to conthe Bear. trast the Lucerne Schweizerhof or the Roman Quirinal of to-day with a hotel where princes, cardinals, and kings put up two hundred years ago. Even allowing that this has fallen away from its high estate, one can still see that the nineteenth century may well pride itself on increased decency and amenities, not to speak of luxuries; though, to tell the truth, perhaps our forefathers had more luxuries than comforts in life. People who quaffed their wine from filmy old Murano and cups wrought by roistering Benvenuto Cellini were not badly off as to the aesthetics, but any one who will look up the ancient Albergo dell' Orso may have a hint of what their traveling accommodations were.

Leaving behind those modern streets with their most modern titles which give Mr. Augustus Hare such exquisite pain, one still finds a quarter of Rome where the names have a smack of the olden time, and the 'Way of the Golden Lily," the alleys "of the Lute" and "the Dove," thrill one with suggestions of a more picturesque age than ours. An Italian author of to-day compares the narrow, dark Via dell' Orso, which leads from the Torre della Scimmia (Hilda's tower) to the Tiber, to the dry bed of a once rapid, rushing river. It was a great artery of the city; now it is a deserted byway. In ancient times, this being a fashionable quarter, and the Inn of the Bear

attracting all great and distinguished travelers, the hirers of sedan chairs, and later on of coaches and saddle horses, had established themselves in this street. An inferior rival of the Bear, the Inn of the Lion, long ago disappeared, was likewise in this street, kept by the famous beauty Vanozza Cattanei (painted in the Vatican, by Pinturicchio, as the Virgin, with her papal lover at her feet), the mistress of Alexander VI., and the mother of Cæsar and Lucrezia Borgia. In a year of scarcity, she and her second husband, Carlo Canale, were allowed to sell their wine free of the general tax, thereby driving a good traffic in the lower rooms of the Lion.

At the point where the street converges with Via Tor di Nona stands our venerable hostelry. Readers of Marion Crawford will remember that it was at this place Anastase Gouache was thrown down by the prince's carriage. Whether the inn gave its name to the street, or the street to the inn, is lost in the night of time.

It was a brilliantly sunshiny, or, as we who love the old city say, a real Roman day, when I hunted out the spot. As I came to it, the end house of Via dell' Orso, I craned my neck up to see what antique traces there might be left, but was rewarded only by an expanse of dull red wall with a narrow moulding at its top. At the front, however, is a big, arched doorway leading înto a large vaulted ground room which is used as a

stable, though the old stone columns which support the massive vaulting have a grimy dignity, and are known to date back to great antiquity. Pausing before the door to pencil down the inscription over it —

ARCI CONFRATERN.

B. M. LAVRIETANAE

FURNARI ET

PRO MEDIETATAE

I was joined by a group of sympathetic idlers, who gazed up at the house with new respect, but lent me the larger share of curious attention. On the Tor di Nona side is the present entrance, a small door with a broken lamp overhead lettered "Albergo dell' Orso;" for through the vicissitudes of seven centuries it has been, and remains, an inn. On the second floor, to the left, is a charmingly quaint little arched window with columns and fretwork which, though stuccoed over, preserve their old outlines, like a tiny crest on a visiting-card, to vouch for ancient lineage. From the narrow street door two flights of dingy steps, on opposite sides of the brick-paved entry, lead to a long room, likewise brick-paved, which serves as the hotel office. There a young woman had all the crockery from the chambers set out in startling array, and the whole place seemed a vortex of virtuous attempts to clean up. Expressing my wish to see the rooms in which Dante, Machiavelli, and Montaigne lodged, I was courteously handed over to mine host and his dame, two fat, slatternly people who took great pride in showing their house.

The bedrooms are ludicrously small, reminding one of ship dimensions, and are now papered with very dashing yellows and blues; but, imbedded in the walls of several rooms, mine host showed the ancient stone arches of the loggia which once formed the front of the house. In the wee chamber with the bizarre window, the woman announced triumphantly, "Here it was Dante slept when he came to Rome as ambassador of the Argentine Republic," a slip smartly snubbed by her spouse, who dilated on the antiquity of everything, and said that as there was "not another window like it in the world," it had been copied for the museum in Via Capo le Case. The old houses jutting on the Tiber having been razed to make way for the new embankment, the window commands an extensive view of the tawny river, the Castle of S. Angelo, the bridge,

and the "low hills to westward ;" but how was it all when the proud young ambassador came to Pope Boniface, nearly six centuries ago? The gentle poet face, still rounded with hope and tender dreaming, as his friend Giotto painted it, was not hardened into gloomy sternness by bitter exile and the salt flavor of the stranger's bread. On the eve of this fourth embassy, when it was proposed in the Florentine Council that he should go as the head of the deputation, he cried, with a youthful arrogance made pathetic by the irony of after events, “But if I go, who will stay? If I stay, who will go?" And it was during this same Roman stay (protracted, it is said, by the Pope's machinations) that he waked to find himself a proscribed outcast from beloved Florence. Truly, then, if tradition can be trusted, this little room saw the poet's awakening to the stern realities of life and changed fortunes; it was here that Clotho began to twine in the darker threads of a web which was soon to have no bright ones, and the spot is consecrated by a poet's chrism of suffering.

Outside in the ever young sunlight the passing throng is crowding as eagerly over the Ponte S. Angelo as in the jubilee year when Dante saw its double current of humanity. (Inferno xviii. 29.)

How a great personality dwarfs all the lesser shades! Machiavelli and Montaigne have grown flimsy and unsubstantial to me, here, in the spell of a greater memory, a more breathing, pulsating life and work. Popes have largely lost their power, the greatness of the bustling Florentine republic is like a tale that is told, but the young generations, feeling the throb of a quickbeating heart, yet cry in sympathetic, loving reverence, "Onorate l'altissimo poeta!" -Now and again we fail sadly tory for to improve the people we are making it our business in life to improve, by rating them too low. I gave myself conscientiously to amusing a group of street boys with table games for several months before I discovered them to be worthy of much better things. Then the discovery came by the merest accident.

Natural His

Street Boys.

The boys were twelve and thirteen years of age. There were seven of them, and they came to my room once a week. Their ignorance of the commonest facts of country life (I have heard a squirrel called a young monkey) led me one night to show them a