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NEW PUBLICATIONS. 1 
T/ie An/< of the Monk, (New York: Har¬ 
per & Brothers.)—General Garibaldi's forth¬ 
coming novel has been long expected. We have 
it, at last, in translation, and issued in cheap 
form. Asa novel, truth compels us to say it is t 
a decided failure. The General is a good soldier, t 
and a worthy patriot, but no novelist. Not that . 
he cannot write well, but. that he lacks art. His ( 
plot has no real unity. While he can combine 
and harmonize the forces of an army, he cannot. ( 
do the same with the characters and incidents of y 
a story, and os a consequence his work possesses ^ 
no smoothness, no symmetry. It is detached 
and spasmodic. Striking situations stand out. ( 
strongly, at intervals, but there is no continuity < 
between them, 1 
Thus much, briefly, of the production iu this j 
regard. Considered as a picture of Home in the 
Nineteenth Century, it is a painful success— 
painful, because so true to the wretched life. I 
The revolutionary author has seen the dark side 1 
of Papaliam in nil its hidoousness. He repro- , 
duces it here with a strength of coloring which 
is realistic in the extreme, and which shows him ! 
absorbingly in earnest, flis truthfulness wo > 
cannot doubt. Ho declares what he knows to bo 
verities. His story, then, is worth reading not 
as Action, but as fact. It should move social 
and religious feeling to its deepest depths. Us 
publication now. when Papal Infallibility is the 
great topic of Europe and, in a degree, of all the 
world, is exceedingly timely, and we trust will 
prove a blow against, one of the most impious 
dogmas that ever insulted the Almighty. 
Sketchen of Creation. (New York : Harper 
& Brothers.)— In this goodly-sized lii-mo. Dr. 
Winch ell, Professor of Geology, Zoology and 
Botany in the University of Michigan, has 
sought to popularize scientific knowledge con¬ 
cerning the history of matter and Of life, and 
to present in an at tract] vo manner the theories 
of science touching the primordial condition 
and the ultimate destiny of the earth and solar 
system. He has admirably succeeded; and lias 
Invested what are usually dry facts aud state¬ 
ments with a vivid interest. His sketches pos¬ 
sess an added charm for tho American reader, in 
that they portray, with much minutenet*, 
numerous sections of the United States, and so 
introduce him to many familiar scenes. Prof. 
WiNCHEl.L believes that Geologic Science is not 
inimical to Christianity, but that the two should 
go hand in band; and his manifest respect for 
religious faith increases our respect for him. 
The volume will greatly promote general infor¬ 
mation on topics all should understand. It is 
profusely illustrated, and the illustrations main¬ 
ly conduce to a better comprehension of the 
text,—something we cannot always say of such. 
History of the ,Imeriran Civil it'ar. - (New 
York: Harper & Brothers.)—In this handsome 
octavo wo have the third and concluding vol¬ 
ume of Prof. John W. Draper's history of the 
late terrible conflict. Containing the events 
from tho issue of the Emancipation I‘reclama¬ 
tion to tho close of Hie war.it covera a wide 
Held, but iu a succinct form that at once com¬ 
mands approval. Facts arc given briefly, hut 
with their inter-relation clearly shown. Writ¬ 
ten without partisan bias, the narrative is fair in 
tone, ffiul must, be conceded as quite impartial. 
Prof. Draper has a dispassionate, philosophical 
mind, admirably adapted to the tusk under¬ 
taken ; a stylo condensed, yet forcible and often 
eloquent; and he bus produced in many re¬ 
spects the model work of its kind. Given unu¬ 
sual facilities, lie has secured much valuable in¬ 
formation that will not bo made public in any 
other form, probably, iu years, and additional 
interest is thereby added to his pages. 
Puck. (Philadelphia: .1- B. Lippincott & Co.) 
—Puck was a dog, aud this volume gives “ his 
vicissitudes, adventures, observations, conclu¬ 
sions, friendships and philosophies,” as related 
by himself and edited by “Ouida." We do not 
know who “OUIPA” Is; but wo are glad she Is 
not our sister or friend. The ability to write 
such a book demands only profoundest pity. 
Through all its chapters the narrative iscyiiueul, 
sneering, and faithless. Often It is indecent, It 
is redolent of nothing which is good and puro 
aud health-giving. And we are surprised that 
so worthy publishers should put it before tho 
public. 
» Ulscetlaniei i by IP. .It, Thackeray. (Bos¬ 
ton: Fields, Osgood & Co.)—This is the Ilflh,— 
and we believe the last,—volume of Mr. Thack¬ 
eray’s miscellaneous writings, as issued iu the 
“Household Edition,'’ so neat and cheap. It 
contains, iirstly, a very fair picture of tho ge¬ 
nial humorist, “Catherine,” “Tltmarsh Among 
Pictures and Books,” the “ Fraser Miscellanies,” 
“ Christmas Books,” and all the author’s “ Bal¬ 
lads”—making up a goodly list of contents, and 
swelling the number of puges to 631. 
Journal of a tc'iait to the Jilaal. (New York : 
Harper 6c Brothers.)—How a Prince and Princess 
travel, and how they are entertained m route , is 
here set forth by Hon. Mrs. Grey, who accom¬ 
panied thoPriaee and Princess of Wales In Egypt 
one year ago. The book has much common¬ 
place matter in it, but was avowedly written 
only as a private Journal and not. for publica¬ 
tion, and is therefore hardly opeu to criticism. 
We have heretofore given some extracts which 
prove its readableness. 
The Unkind IPfli rf and Other Stories, (New 
Fork: Harper & Brothers.) — The author of 
“John Halifax, Gentleman,” will surely find 
readers. Many of these brief sketches,—a round 
score in number,—are in her happiest style, and 
quite deserving of the handsome re-print given 
them here by the Harpers. Miss Mdloch 
throws the purest sentiment into whatever she 
portrays, aud for this reason her stories are com¬ 
mendable. 
Brake Up f Or , The Puuiif Peacemaker», 
(Boston: Leo & Shepard.)—The “Lake Shore 
Series," by OLIVER Optic, is one of the liveliest, 
most interesting series ol' stories for youth which 
have appeared in many a day. Tho present vol¬ 
ume is No. 7 thereof, and will delight thousands 
of readers. 
THE GREAT EUROPEAN PARKS. 
BY MADAME LE VERT. 
Jtebenham ’* J'oic. (New York: Harper Sc 
Brothers.)— We have here the lust of the Har¬ 
pers’ cheap publications in fiction. It is by 
Amelia B. Edwards, author of “Barbara’s 
History," “ Half a Million of Money,” &o. 
I.—llyde Park. jj 
The Parks of European cities arc among q 
their most delightful specialties, and con- ^ 
tribute vastly to the liealthfulncss of their t j 
inhabitants. Hence, they arc aptly styled a , 
11 tho lungs of the 
city," for the breeze 
which floats over them 
brings the rosy hues 
of health to the pallid 
check, quickens the 
feeble pulse, and gives 
joy to the weary and 
toil-laden. Like the 
glorious sunlight, their 
blessings fail equally 
upon the lowly and the 
great, upon the rich 
and the poor. 
Hyde Park is of 
great antiquity. It is 
the first portion of land 
ever devoted purpose¬ 
ly for the recreation of 
the people of a city. It 
is in the ccn ter of Lon¬ 
don, and yet a perfect ~~—-— 
quietude invests it., as 
though it were miles 
away from the busy, toiling millions who in- ( 
habit the greatest city of the civilized world. 1 
When Henry the Eighth was monarch of - 
England, the Monks of St. Peter, of West- i 
minster Abbey, possessed the fertile " Manor 
of Hide” Unhappily for them, they in¬ 
curred the displeasure of that despotic sov- i 
creign, and lie seized their lands and ap¬ 
propriated them to the Crown. A portion of , 
that domain is now Hyde Park, and retains 
the name of the ancient manor. 
The southern entrance to the Park 
is in front of “ Apslcy House,” the j ' ' 
former home of the Duke of Welling- f 
ton. The western windows si ill retain Fj 
the iron plates with which the Duke 
ordered them to be covered after the : 
wooden shutters were shattered by the 
mob which assembled around the mau- i 
sion during the excitement of the Re- k 
form Bill. He was then Prime Minis¬ 
ter, but after this outrage he resigned 
and would never again accept any po¬ 
sition of power. 
Just within tho Park, vis-a-vis to 
“ Apsley House, ” is the colossal 
bronze statue of Achilles, on a lofty R 
pedestal. It was cast by Sir R. West- 
macott from the cannon captured by 
tho armies of Wellington iu Spain IK 
aud at Waterloo. This statue is a - flat 
tribute from the women of England to • Hk 
their gallant countryman and his brave 
soldiers, and bears this inscription : ' 
“To Arthur, Duke of Wellington, ami F ; _| 
his Companions in Arms; from tho 1 
Women of England.” |_j§|g 
The marble arch, once in front of Vp|| 
Buckingham Palace, spans the north¬ 
ern entrance, while graceful arches, 
designed by Dkcimus Burton, support a 
balustrade on the eastern side. 
The magnificent trees of Hyde Park are 
its especial attraction. They arc of great 
age and immense size; there are groves, 
whose interlacing branches form long aisles, 
like those of the Druid Temples, in the 
“days that are no more;” then there are 
groups of several giant oaks, forming a deli¬ 
cious bower, and casting a refreshing shade 
over the green sward. Broad roads for car¬ 
riages and pathways 
’ wind beneath them, f 
During the summer 
i months, and also dm- | 
ing (liespring months, 
from t It r a e o’clock 
i until eight, these drives 
* are thronged with stt- 
; perb equipages, with 
* coroneted panels, and 
i servants in gorgeous 
- liveries. 
■ Along the southern 
1 portion of the J*ark is 
r the famous “ Rotten 
f Row,” reserved entire- 
l ly for equestrians. The 
I name is a corruption 
1 from the French 
j “ Haute du Hoi." It is 
3 thus called because the 
- carriages of the Sove¬ 
reign and the royal 
* family are the only ve- 
* hides allowed there. It is a brilliant scene 
\ every fine afternoon. 
The English women ride uncommonly well, 
s There is a style and grace about them pecul¬ 
iarly adapted to this exercise; the close- 
i fitting Ainazom sets olf the -well-developed 
plumptitude of their forms, and their perfect 
3 self-possessiou and jaunty air iudicate that 
they are as much at home in the saddle as in 
tho gnv saloon. As the beautiful equestri¬ 
ennes , and their handsome cavaliers, gallop 
along, a panorama of animated loveliness 
seems to glide rapidly before the eyes. 
The Serpentine is a pretty little river in 
the Park, where the manly pastime of row¬ 
ing is vastly enjoyed during the summer. 
Numerous boats are constantly skimming 
like swallows over the surface of the water. 
The Humane Society have built a small 
house on the bank, where persons arc sta- 
tioued to save the lives of those who may 
accidentally fall in, or purposely plunge 
CHURCH OF ST. SULPIOE — PARIS. 
therein to rid themselves of the burden of 
life by this mode of suicide. Boats tiro al¬ 
ways in readiness, and each year many arc 
rescued from death by them. 
Neat- the Serpentine there is a lovely Ital¬ 
ian garden, exquisitely ornamented with 
statuary, and fountains, tho water from 
which fall into richly carved marble basins, 
casting a delicate spray over the flowers 
which encircle them. 
There arc many parks in London, but 
between six and seven thousand pipes is one 
of the great attractions to visitors. 
Saint Genevieve , known years ago as the 
Pantheon,—it being modeled after the cele¬ 
brated Pantheon at Athens,—was begun as 
a church, but was converted by the Con¬ 
stituent Assembly of the Republic of 
France into a temple dedicated to the great 
men of the nation. Restored to the Church 
by tho present Emperor, and christened in 
honor of St. Genevieve, it is one of the 
grandest and most beautiful religious struc¬ 
tures anywhere existing. 
Worshiping in splen¬ 
dor seldom equaled, 
the gay people of the 
capital delight to rec¬ 
reate amid scenes of 
the rarest beauty. 
Their parks and prom¬ 
enades, therefore, arc 
given the utmost at¬ 
tention, and arc en¬ 
hanced by every charm 
known to landscape 
art. The (Jhmnps-Ely- 
sees is one of the chief 
places of out-door re¬ 
sort, and beside its 
natural and artistic 
attractions presents of 
a sunny afternoon all 
tho fascinations of 
fashionable life. No 
other people live so 
much in the open air 
as tho French; and 
nowhere can their true character be studied 
so freely as among the lively crowds that 
throng the Champs - Elysees and similar 
avenues. 
♦ » »- 
THE SEA OF GALILEE. 
CHURCH 
ST. GENEVIEVE. 
Ilydo Park is, by for, the most enjoyable and 
attractive. Like the Koh-i-noor diamond, it 
is the brightest and most precious of all the 
jewels of the realm. 
-- 
VIEWS IN PARIS. 
We present herewith three more charac¬ 
teristic views in the magnificent Capital of 
France. Making of their religion a splendid 
parade, the Parisians boast church edifices 
THE CHAMPS-ELYSEES — PARIS. 
scarcely equaled the world over for beauty 
aud cost; find the two which we portray are 
among the finest of these. Saint Sulpice has 
a front unusual iu design, but very imposing, 
aud, standing in a space more open than 
churches usually occupy, is most striking iu 
effect. The interior is extremely rich, and 
is hung with many rare paintings. Au organ 
of one hundred and eighteen registers and 
Who has not longed to stand beside it? 
About no place in Palestine do sweeter 
memories gather. Yet If we may believe 
Mark Twain, —who, however, is so irrov- 
’ erent in Ills “Innocents Abroad" 
A, touching many sacred associations 
- i that his testimony is not wholly sat' 
isfactory, — this hallowed sea should 
' not he looked upon in the glare of day 
t° fully realize all anticipation. For 
once the humorist feels tenderly sober 
amid holy scenes, and thus writes : 
Night is the time to see Galilee, 
j Genessaret, with tile glittering reflec¬ 
tions of the constellations flecking its n - 
%; surface, almost makes me regret that, 
j I ever saw the rude glare of the day 
upon it. Its history and its associa- 
j lions arc its chiefest charm, in my 
eyes, and the spells they weave are 
feeble in the searching light of the 
sun. Then we scarcely feel the fet¬ 
ters. Our thoughts wander constantly 
| m* to tho practical concerns of life, and 
" 111 r °* usc l - <) dwell upon things that seem 
j vague and unreal. 
fJill But when Hie day Ls done, even the 
: 1 most unimpressible must yield to the 
_ 5 dreamy influences of this tranquil star- 
light. The old traditions of the place 
S2g-f steal upon his memory and haunt Ids 
reveries, and then his fancy clothes 
all sights and sounds with the super¬ 
natural. In the lapping of the waves upon 
the beach ho hears tho dip of ghostly oars; 
in the secret noises of the night he hears 
spirit voices: in tho soft sweep of tho breeze, 
the rush of invisible wings. Phantom ships 
arc on the sea, the dead of twenty centuries 
come forth from their tombs, and, in the 
dirges of tho night wind, the songs of old, 
forgotten ages find utterance again. 
Iu the starlight, Galileo has no boundaries 
but the broad compass of the heavens, and 
__is a theater meet for 
the birth of a religion 
a b 1 o to 6ave the 
world; and meet for 
the stately figure ap¬ 
pointed to stand upon 
its stage and proclaim 
its high decrees. But, 
in the sunlight, one 
says: is it for the deeds 
which were done and 
for the words which 
were spoken in this 
little acre of rocks and 
sand eighteen centu¬ 
ries gone, that the bells 
are ringing to-day in 
the remote islands of 
the sea, and far and 
wide over continents 
that clasp the circum¬ 
ference of the huge 
globe V One can com¬ 
prehend it only when 
■ night has hidden all incongruities and crea- 
i ted a theater proper for so great a drama. 
-- 
It is a continual surprise to Europeans— 
i the number of Americans traveling every- 
i where abroad. American tourists arc readily 
I recognized as such, and as they are found all 
l the way from Norway to Egypt, they excite 
1 much curiosity. 
A SUMMER STORY. 
BY LUCY L. STOUT. 
TuK sun of summer burned In the sky. 
A light wind tossed the waves in spray. 
That with a rippling lullaby 
Broke on tho green shore whore we lay. 
Tremulous fleck* of sunshine played 
With changeful gleam tho crass along, 
And from the branches over head 
Shrillod t he Cicada’s slender song. 
Far, very fur seemed tho azure deep, 
And a lleoey cloud went sailing by. 
Detached fur duty from the fleet, 
At anchor in tho western sky. 
Two friends, long parted, stretched at easo 
In rustic freedom on tho ground, 
Soft mingled with the whispering breeze. 
And sobbing wave their vulcos’ sound. 
My heart was filled with deep content, 
And every pulse of life was glad, 
Tho hours, peace-laden, came and went 
While she was near; but she was sad. 
My friend, with beautiful brown eyes. 
And rippling hair of darkest hue ; 
Thy soul’s e’en fairer than Its guise. 
Upright and simple, pure and true. 
Our talk had been upon the theme 
Of Love, with its pure mystery. 
When she grew sun, and said : “ A dream 
Of one who still Is dear to me, 
Hath Ailed my thoughts for many a day; 
Now thou art como to share with mo 
A little while my work and play, 
My inner trouble thou shalt see. 
“ There was a man ’l.wns years ago. 
When life with both of us was young,— 
Who loved me well,”—her voice fell low, 
And In tho pause A wild bird sung; 
Sung plaintive rrom tho Torestneur, 
Of spring and all Its lost delight; 
flung mildly of the summer cheer. 
Of balmy broezo and bloom and light. 
“ Ho had a rarely-gifted mind, 
A fervent heart, au earnest will; 
A genial man as you will And— 
1 thought so then, I think so still. 
But ah ! ho asked too much of me; 
I almost loved him till ho said: 
* As sink the river in the sea, 
So I absorb her whom 1 wed.’ 
" ’Twas lightly spoker , but there lurked 
Tho earnest thought In his dark eyes; 
And Instant, doop resistance worked 
Within my breast, and sad surprise. 
But for those words I had not known 
That any gulf between n* lay. 
And to Uls life mine might have grown 
And blossomed like tho buds of May. 
** 1 would not yield my being up 
The echo of another’s will; 
And thus the bitter lu my cup 
Of life thou mingled—taints it still. 
Ah, well! It was not very long 
Bofore ho Journeyed far away; 
lie said I did him grievous wrong, 
He said I darkened all hi* day. 
“He said my nature was untrue : 
My heurt, beat thick, my eyes were dim, 
I almost loved him; yet 1 knew 
I could not walk life's ways with him." 
She ceased. Tho wind that touched the trees 
And tossed aloft their waving hands. 
Made heart-sick moan like one who grieves 
And pines for homo In forolgn lands. 
She broke the silence once again, 
Her tender voice was full of tears: 
“ Ills wasted life baa given me pain, 
And touched my consoienec. too, with fears. 
Tales of Ills errors came to mo, 
Ills downward walk, borne on the breatn 
Of idle tulk, by those who see 
No loss of friends In augut save death. 
“Indeed, I feel If be hnd slept 
The dreamless sleep beneath the sod. 
Such bitter tours I had not wept, 
But thought—I have a friend with God. 
This is the trouble that I bear; 
If 1 had given myself away, 
I might have saved him. Tell me, dear, 
Could 1?” Serene I answered, “Nay. 
“ Trouble thy gentle heart no more; 
Lot thy uneasy conscience rest; 
His failure lies not at thy door. 
But must with blm abide a guest. 
If thou hudst bound his life and thine, 
With dear Love’s strong and shining chain. 
All of thy nature most divine, 
Had sufforod wrong, and waste and pain. 
“He tended downward; and had ho 
Absorbed thy belug as the streams 
Sink In t.lie bosom of the sea 
Nor re-appear, so all thy dreams, 
Thy aspirations holy, high, 
Had perished, to bo known no moro; 
Lost, like the glorious wrecks that (to 
Whelmed ’Death the waves, on ocean's floor. 
“ When he was false to GOD and Right, 
Even if true to Love aud thee, 
How couldst thou lead him to the light. 
Unless he llrst had made thee free i 
God’s angel guided thee, dour friend ; 
Thy labor hath reward more sure, 
Than If for one thou didst expend 
The life that blesses many poor.” 
The flickering sunlight kissed her cheek, 
And lighted up Its dusky rose; 
She needed not a word to speak, 
For all her air was sweet repose. 
The tide of life was calm once mere. 
It ebbed and Unwed with steady beat 
As sank the bright wave from tho shore, 
Then broke in music at our feet. 
Ypsilanti, Mich. 
'tones for litmtlists. 
THAT MYSTERIOUS BUNDLE, 
Ak STORY WITH. A. MORAL. 
BY A. C. BELDING. 
Through the doubtful light of a dismal 
March day “Twilight let her sable curtain, 
down.” She did not, continuing the figure, 
“pin it with a star,” hut it was drenched 
and dripping with ruin which rapidly liqui¬ 
fied the snow-drifts by the ro:ul-sides, wove 
deep, crooked channels across the icy paths 
intervening, and plashed drearily against the 
windows of a low, brown old farm-house 
closely wrapped within the folds of the afore¬ 
said curtain. 
But tho rain, though zealously doing its 
best, could not quench the red light blazing 
