a stout heart that knew no fear, who, though lofty and cruel, born to rule and not to be ruled, yet a brave and dauntless warrior, just such an one who was destined to cut his name in the imperishable records of the history of a country. At the early age of forty-three, shot down by one of his followers, like a worthless dog of the prairie, died, pierced by a bullet through the brain, de la Salle. As Moses but saw the promised land, and perished when almost its gates had been reached; so was Robert Cavelier not permitted to bathe his heated brow in the cool waters of the Mississippi. Our author delivers a rich apostrophe to his memory, and the debt of gratitude which America owes to the unfading ardour of this "masculine figure, cast in iron:" the heroic pioneer who guided her to the possession of her richest heritage."

6.

Of Tonty, too, la Salle's lieutenant and devoted follower, Mr. Parkman speaks in high praise and frequently pays tribute, in musical panegyrics, of his devotion to his leader. Like Robinson Crusoe's Friday, and Damon and Pythias' tie of friendship, there seemed to be a chain of love and admiration existing between these two dauntless adventurers, which no circumstances whatever, could by any means sever.

As the huge rollers unfold before the gaze of the audience, scene after scene of the painters' art, in the tinted canvas of the panorama, so does Parkman in quick succession, lay bare to our eyes the great and passing pictures, the toils and trials of the explorers, their defeats and victories, with the lights and shadows of frontier life. Many portions of the romance are eloquently dramatic, and abound in elegant and chaste language. Marquette, the priest and Joliet, whose eyes first beheld the noble Mississippi, and the notorious Hennepin, whose shade pales not before the shrine of the equally famous Tom Pepper, sport their brief hour" on Mr. Parkman's stage. The Iroquois and their compatriots, the indian tribes of the South, and the worshippers of golden gods, are unveiled in our presence, and enact once more the glorious deeds of old. With them we ride o'er the vast prairie, ourselves in the midst of the wild tribes in

66

and with them we throw battle's bloody carnage.

Scattered throughout the book, are many fine passages of descriptive writing. Indeed the author excells, in an eminent degree, in this species of composition. We quote a paragraph or so from the interesting account of the exile's march across the wide prairie: "Sometimes they traversed the sunny prairie; sometimes dived into dark recesses of the forest, where the buffalo, descending daily from their pastures in long files to drink at the river, often made a broad and easy path for the travellers. When foul weather arrested them, they built huts of long meadow grass; and safely sheltered, lounged away the day while in the rain. At night, they usually set a rude stockade about their camp; and here, by the grassy border of a brook, or at the edge of a grove where a spring bubbled up through the sands, they lay asleep around the embers of their fire, while the man on guard listened to the deep breathing of the slumbering horses, and the howling of the wolves that saluted the rising moon as it flooded the waste of prairie with pale mystic radiance."

The present work is a model of fine typographical execution; and contains a map of la Salle's colony, in the Illinois. Mr. Parkman, in his fourth volume, will take up the reign of Louis XIV, in America, and the " stormy career of Louis de Buade, Count of Frontenac." We shall look for it with much interest. Meanwhile, we heartily commend the three charming volumes, just published, to the Canadian public.

SYBARIS AND OTHER HOMES.*

Mr. Hale has done good service to his country by the publication of this lively, entertaining and instructive book. A great moral and practical lesson is developed in the pages of "Sybaris," and one too, which the people of Massachusetts and other States will do well to heed, and in many cases act upon. In "Sybaris" an ideal city with a model government is presented. We are told how the laws were made, how they were enforced and what they were. The city of "Brock," in Germany, whose streets are so clean and whose alleys or by-ways are so well kept, that its citizens must remain in-doors and not go out at all in order that the silent sanctity of the place may be preserved, is the nearest approach to this wonderful land of the Greeks. Here the slanderer is not permitted to "blush unseen;" but as soon as he is discovered he is "marched round the city in disgrace, crowned with tamarisk." There no calumniators were left. No persons were allowed to associate with the vicious. The system of free education was inaugurated there too. Every one had to go to school and the salaries of the teachers were paid by the citizens. Deserters or cowards in battle were compelled to sit three days in the Forum, clad in the garments of women. Any man or woman who moved an amendment to the laws did so with a noose round his neck. If the people refused his proposed "improvement," he was instantly hanged. No more than three laws were ever altered. All business was conducted on strictly cash principles: the government giving no protection to the creditor. It was to be expected that a city with such beatific "rules and regulations" for its guidance, would succeed in growing great and affluent, and create a desire among other nations to have a similar form of government. The city of "Sybaris did grow and its success stimulated other cities to assimilate their laws to hers. Mr. Hale tells us in a very pleasant gossipy way how the people lived and what they did. The volume abounds with homely truth and lively humour, and good, sound advice. There is an irresistible charm about it also that makes us loath to leave it until its perusal is finished.

But the author did not write the fairy tale "for fun." It is written for a grander and nobler object: an object that may probably effect a complete change in the homes of the labourer of the United States.

*"SYBARIS AND OTHER HOMES," by E. E. Hale, Boston. Fields, Osgood & Co.

Here in this book are five essays. The ideal is given first-that of life in an imaginary city, with a governing power-probably a little exaggerated-such as the author would wish. Then a picture is given us of life at the town of "Naguadavick." In this little town was a large lake; so large that it took up just one half of the whole town. Of course the men and women who lived at "Nagaudavick” had to pay a high rent for the premises they occupied. The question then arose as to how this difficulty could be obviated. Some of the more enterprising citizens held a convention; but of those present too many belonged to the croaker family who see imaginary difficulties in the way of every innovation on time-honoured customs, and so the matter, for a time, fell through. But one man, who was tired of "that sort of thing," determined to do his utmost to save the town. He called one fair morning on his friend, the President of the railway, and the two laid their heads together, and the result was a new and original plan for the future prosperity of " Nagaudavick." This town situated a short distance out of Boston, lands were to be purchased, the railway-with no stoppages by the way-was to be run to the city three or four trips in the morning and as many in the evening, the working-man was to have the privilege of purchasing a lot on which to build at a low price, say $3.00 a week for four or six years until paid for, and railway fares were to be almost nominal. The prospectus was issued and in a few years the village-town with the curious name, was a populous and thriving city, the citizens were contented, happy and prosperous, and the railway company and the land owners were successful and wealthy. "Vineland" is another glowing account of how success and happiness may be achieved by a little self-denial on our part, and some slight sacrifice at first of our lust after riches.

was

The essay-"How they live in Boston," and its sad sub-heading "How they die there," is an eminently practical and thoughtful theme. We are introduced to a fashionable couple, lolling in ennui on luxuriant sofas in a magnificent mansion on some fashionable street. The wife has just thrown aside the morning daily with the usual remark, "nothing at all in the paper to-day." She sees naught of interest in the closely-crowded columns of "current items," to arrest her attention. What interest is it to her if a drunken father comes home and in the wild delirium of his inebriation, dashes the brains of his first-born against the wall? What cares the fashionable wife, if the squalid sickly mother with a groaning child pressed tightly to a cold, exposed bosom, dies of starvation and neglect, in some low hovel in a dirty alley, so long as her dainty nostrils are not greeted with the odour of the feculent air which permeates the rookery? What matter is it to her if a father learns, through the public print, that his son is a murderer, or the object of his tenderest adoration, his daughter, whose mild career he has watched with an eager glance, with whose infant tresses he has toyed, till the long hairs rau through his fingers like molten gold, on whom he has doted with the fond love of a too-susceptible father, has fallen, alas! to irretrievable ruin; who gives up for a bauble a blessed life of purity, for a wild career of loathsome wretchedness. No, the paper news." The divorce-court has closed

has no

its doors for a day, perhaps. There is not in to-day's paper even a breach of promise of marriage casc. Times are "unconscionably This lady,

dull."

But there are honourable exceptions to every rule. though possessed of a fashionable exterior, was the owner of a warm heart that beat beneath the velvet folds of her ample garment. In rather a careless and may be petulent tone, she made the remark above, as she tossed the journal to her husband. In his hands the paper was a mirror that reflected a different image. He saw in one single line, much food for careful thought. The fact that 75 children, hardly twelve months old, had met their death from cholera-infantum,' was well calculated to rivet his closest attention. He read it aloud to his wife and in doing so added a few more lines. She was startled and eagerly grasped the paper a second time. Then it was that she was able to realize the whole scene. The husband and wife donned appropriate garments and sallied forth to visit the houses of the poor. The Registrar kindly gave them all the information required, and with note book and pencil, they called upon the outcasts of Boston. The lady from the rich stone dwelling of Chester Square or Union Park, looked strangely out of place among the delapidated rookeries of Suffolk Street. They entered one house, but what a sight met their eyes! Women and children were huddled together like wild beasts in the cooped up cages of a menagerie. A rank filthy stench greeted their olfactories. They "interviewed" the residents and found that this case was in nowise different from the others. Each tenement held from four to six families. One room was the dwelling-place of six and even eight individuals. Death was frequently a visitor to these hovels. Indeed so often did he come that if an infant lived at all, it was considered a rare occurrence: why it did not die, was a "nine day's wonder."

The visitors were kindly treated, and on that day they accomplished many similar calls. Truly the poor of the great city are in a lamentable condition and most true is the aphorism "one half the world knows not what the other half is doing." When the husband and wife returned home they felt as though they had done much good, and so they had.

Mr Hale points out to the authorities these facts, and suggests means for their removal. His book concludes with an excellent paper on "Homes for Boston Labourers." He tells us how a labourer may in a short time, lift himself from his present position of tenant, and become the owner of a snug little freehold property of his own.

"Sybaris and other Homes is a most admirable work, full of good sound advice and sense, and well calculated to be a source of considerable benefit to the working man. Mr. Hale has an agreeable way of "putting things." He as cheerfully discourses of the unhealthiness and discomforts of the dwellings in which the poor live, as he does of the palatial homes of the rich. At times he is delightfully extravagant, humorous or pathetic, as suits his purpose. A charming writer is Edward Everett Hale, as he is also as kindly and generous a man as ever lived.

THE STORY OF A BAD BOY.*

Messrs. Fields, Osgood & Co., the eminent Boston publishers, have given us the boy's holiday book of the year. It is entitled "The Story of a Bad Boy," and its author is a fine and genial writer, as well as a noted poet, fast rising into fame. Mr. T. B. Aldrich richly unfolds the mysteries of boy life, and very brilliantly, too, tells us how these terrible specimens of humanity live and move. The enjoyment we experienced from reading this interesting story has been great, and though designed mainly for the perusal of youngsters, many "old heads," we feel sure, have received from it a fair share of profit and pleasure. The book is full of adventure, and Tom Bailey-the bad boy-is an admirably drawn character, fully equal to any of Dickens's juvenile pictures.

We watch with some eagerness Tom's career, deeply sympathize with his boyish misfortunes, and as readily take up "the cudgels" in his behalf when we fancy an imposition is being practised upon him. He is the same mischievous, careless, good-natured and warm-hearted lad, all through the narrative. He is the very personification of a true boy, whose career as a man will be unspotted by impure taint. Of course he had his faults, who has not? We like Tom Bailey, he is so real.

The scenes at Rivermouth, the parlour theatricals, and above all the melancholy case of blighted affections, when fair Nelly laughed merrily at our hero's tale of love and proposition of marriage. And then how rich and "meatey "-as the author, himself, would say-is the meeting between Tom and his friend Pepper Whitcomb, after the former had been rejected. How sublimely the jilted lover strikes his breast and beseeches Pepper not to ask him the cause of his overwhelming grief; and how impressively we feel when he tells us that "earthly happiness is a delusion and

a snare."

Nelly, and gentle Binny Wallace are two charming creations of the novelist. Nelly is so life-like-dashing-good-merry and full of jollity, while Binny is a sweet character, not "too goodie," be it remembered, but a kind, honest boy, with whom the reader falls in love at first sight. Captain Nutter and Miss Abigail, too, are well done and represent the typical New Englander very creditably. The other characters are more or less ably delineated.

Mr. Aldrich has succeeded nobly in placing before the youth of America, and also of Great Britain for the book has been re-published there, a story that will live in their hearts long after they shall have become men, and minglers in the stern realities of life, a book full of good points, and highly moralistic in its tone and sentiment. The pathos and humour are evenly blended. We congratulate Mr Aldrich upon his success, hope to find him a constant treader in the peaceful paths of literature.

* "THE STORY OF A BAD BOY," by Thcs. B. Aldrich, Boston, Fields, Osgood & Co.

and