"But tasks in hours of insight willed Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled." Brébeuf, Chaumonot, Garnier, Daniel, all live before us in these pages, preserving their own individuality, while blending their efforts towards one common end. And with their names are united others not less worthy of notice. Joques, scholar and martyr; Marie de St. Bernard, the young nun whose merriment was like the old familiar music of home to the grave, weary sisters she helped so indefatigably in their efforts to aid the pest-stricken natives; Chomedey de Maisonneuve, the brave founder of Montreal, these and many others are carefully portrayed. Their labours were all unavailing, the Indian's hour of doom had struck, and he was to perish by suicide. Not by the sword of the white man, but by deadly internal feud, famine, and disease the work of exterminatiom went on. A few "harmless weavers of baskets and sewers of moccasins on the banks of the St. Charles remain to recall the memory of the great Iluron nation. The very demon of war seemed to have entered into the Iroquois; they rushed from one scene of battle to another, till they had mown down all They made a solitude, and called it peace," but discovered too late that their triumphs had cost them their own life-blood; for more than half a century they remained "a terror and a Scourge to the colonists of New France," but it was but the feeble flickering of the candle in the socket. One act in the life of that great continent had closed. "New scenes succeed, and other actors enter on the stage." We hope Mr. Parkman will raise the curtain as speedily as possible. other tribes before them. 66 From the London Review. LADIES' PETS. It is almost impossible to enter society without encountering ladies' pets. The name is doubtless suggestive enough, yet it is liable to many misinterpretations. A lady's pet may mean anything. A dog, a bird, a horse, or a squirrel might be as easily understood by the term as a man. Yet it is certain that when we talk of ladies' pets, we mean nothing more nor less than men. There is a vast variety of ladies' pets. It is not to be disputed that there are some ladies who insist upon making pets of men worthier a better fate. We have nothing to do with them. The hapless man who is forced into being the recipient of the smiles and glances and signs of a general feminine partiality, is to be pitied, not despised. Those who know what he has to endure will feel for him. It is not as if he could help himseif. He may have achieved a reputation for doing what he never even so much as meditated. He may be good-looking, without any desire that his looks should invite so penal a favouritism. He may have a becoming address, or waltz neatly, or have a white hand, or a small foot, or prospects, or money. The steady purpose with which ladies insist upon petting him is dreadful. unwittingly provokes his fate wherever he goes. We do not say that there are many such men. Yet few who know life well can have failed to detect their existence. They are admirable in a multitude of points. They have unconsciously committed the sin of being pleasing, and they have to expiate their error by enduring the petting of ladies. With these we have nothing to do. We repeat, that they are to be pitied, not despised. He But the creature upon whom we have a few remarks to offer is of a very different kind. It is obvious that ladies are not silly enough to make pets of men who have not one single merit with which they can recommend themselves. Generally, however, it will take one a long time to discover what this merit is. This is only natural, considering that most often this merit happens to be a question of personal appearance, and tastes, we all know, are so curiously prone to differ. The most ordinary kind of ladies' pets is the individual to be met out at evening parties. A quick observer can detect him at a glance. There he stands, with his marvellously-parted hair, his immaculate necktie, which kept him such a dreary while before the lookingglass; a simpering smile upon his lips, the precursor of a flood of silly talk when occasion shall demand him to prove his right to connect himself with his kind by the exercise of his tongue. Watch him for a few moments after he has entered: he stands awhile looking around him, alternating his glances at the company with glances into the nearest mirror. Now he approaches a group of ladies. There is no diffidence in his address. There is a sober certainty of being delightedly received which animates his manner with a species of impertinence truly commendable. By-and-by you will have some of these ladies tapping him with their fans. Wherever he goes he is greeted with parted lips disclosing shining teeth - false or natural. He considers he has a right to display that kind of frivolous officiousness which, in most men, would be resented as a liberty. He resembles a very bad sort of spoilt child. He has generally penetration enough, however, to know his friends from his foes. Some girls he would no more dare approach than a Channel pilot would approach the Goodwin Sands. If he strikes upon good sense he is helplessly shipwrecked. gers, proclaim him to have relapsed into the demeanour and the language which have won for him the honourable and manly title of a ladies' pet. Women are accountable for a great deal; if for nothing else, for having originated ladies' pets. Were it possible to be serious for a moment over such a subject, might not the origin of such a feminine creation be attributable to the antagonistic feeling which it seems the sex entertain against men? Shall we be considered idly philosophical it we perceive in the formation of Ladies are very capricious in their choice of pets. Observers may remark that mid-ladies' pets the expression of the revolt dle age, from the frequency of its selection, seems most preferable. A well-dyed man is not unfrequently found to be a pet. He may be in the army a colonel. En parenthèse, we may observe that the a my yields more pets than any other pursuit. He may be married. But what of that? The wife of this kind of ladies' pet will generally be found a little weak-eyed woman, very suggestive of having a story attached to her, inclined to dismal emotional displays when her husband approaches her, and when she thinks people are looking. But she never interferes with him; and in justice to him it must be confessed that he very seldom seems to interfere with her. In spite of the proximity of his wife, his eyes will generally be found to possess a strange, anti-connubial expression. He throws his head back when he laughs, and is fond of whispering in ears—especially ears that overlook a full and feebly-clad neck and shoulders. His wife has a pet name for him, which he does not resent, and by which he is known amongst the ladies. He will be sometimes found old-fashioned in his manners. There is a kind of movement about him suggestive of those times when Bath and Tunbridge Wells were places of fashionable resort. He has a lively recollection of the" Rolliad," and can quote from it. He has known, or feigns to have known, men whose names are daily growing historical. This, though a tacit confession of his years, he never seems to consider from that point of view; yet it is certain that the deadliest insult you can offer him would be to hint at the factitious color of his hair, or deliberately remind him of his birthday. Time, however, is confessed in his way of dancing. He is perhaps the only man in the room who could walk a minuet. He elaborates the movements of a quadrille with singular solemnity; but when the figure is over, his lolling head, his ogling eyes, his moving lips, his crossed legs, his chain-dangling fin against men which women are ever making, and which they conceive they can best carry out by degrading our sex to their utmost? We narrow their sphere of action; they cannot limit ours, but they make as many of its operators absurd as they possibly can. There is not a single male creature who has been made a coxcomb through the admiration of women that we do not interpret into the expression of a protest against the ascendancy of our sex. It is a subtle philosophy, and we pay women a high compliment by conceiving them capable of planning and executing it. Whatever serves to make men ridiculous necessarily helps to heighten by comparison the characters of women. Considered thus, ladies' pets will not be thought so contemptible as they may at first sight appear. THE PUBLISHING SEASON.-On Thursday week, Mr. Murray, of Albermarle-street, entertained at dinner some sixty of the leading booksellers of London on the occasion of his annual trade sale, at the Albion, in Aldersgate-street, when the following new works and new editions were disposed of, the company not separating until nearly ten o'clock:-- 1,300 Motley's "United Netherlands," vols. 3 and 4; 600 Lady Brownlow's Reminiscences; 1,800 Dean Stanley's "Memorials of Westminster Abbey;" 3,800 Dr. Smith's English Latin Dictionaries;" 500 Sir W. Page Wood's Continuity of Scripture;" 1,000 Smiles's "Huguenots;"500" Life of Sir Charles Bar"y" 1,200 "Darwin on Animals and Plants;" Lord Derby's new edition of the "Iliad; " 8,000 200 Sir Roderick Murchison's Siluria; " 1,300 Smith's Latin and Classical Dictionaries; 7,500 Smith's Smaller Histories; 600 Layard's Popu lar Narratives; 600 Archbishop of York's new work; 400 White's “ Massacre of St. Bartholomew; 600 Dr. Smith's Bible Dictionary;" 1,000 Hallam's Histories; 8,500 "Little Arthur's History of England; 11,400 Students' Historical Manuals; 2,500 Byron's works; 9,300 Mrs. Markham's Histories, 6,000 Smiles's Industrial Biographies; 800 Murray's "British Classics; " 14,000 Smith's "Latin and Greek Course." POETRY: Nina, 770. Angels Everywhere, 776. Love's Gifts, 824. Title and Index to Vol. 95. Our next number (1231) will be the first of 1868. Therein we shall begin The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly, a story by Charles Lever. 1231 will also contain The Talmud, an article which has excited general attention in the literary and religious world, to so great a degree, that six editions of The Quarterly Review which contained it have been exhausted. We expect to improve our type very greatly for the next volume. Preparing for Publication at this Office — THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS. By the author of "Heir of Redclyffe.” THE BROWNLOWS. By Mrs. Oliphant. LINDA TRESSEL. By the author of "Nina Balatka." THE BRAMLEIGHS OF BISHOP'S FOLLY. By Charles Lever. PHINEAS FINN, THE IRISH MEMBER. By Mr. Trollope. Just Published at this Office — THE TENANTS OF MALORY. By J. S. Le Fanu. 50 cents. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LITTELL & GAY, BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. FOR EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the Living Age will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. But we do not prepay postage on less than a year; nor where we have to pay commission for forwarding the money. Price of the First Series, in Cloth, 36 volumes, 90 dollars. Second The Complete work 20 50 "L Any Volume Bonnd, 3 dollars; Unbound, 2 dollars. The sets, or volumes, will be sent at the expense of the publishers. NINA. How bright, how glad, how gay, Not owning to myself, as there we roved, Not knowing, truly knowing, that I loved; And all the while thy pure young thought So deeply in my inmost being wrought, That it became a happy part of me Through childhood's simple joy and simple And as it were a sweet necessity To thee, O Nina, dear! Day after day slipped smooth away fear. Strained by no adverse force, Life, like a clear and placid stream In some delightful clime, Bearing the sky within it like a dream, How many a time, oppressed with gloom, And toiling at my task, Fate's laurelled prize to ask, Have I been gladdened by that voice of thine, Years went; the round and rosy face Grew fairer, paler; and as Childhood went, Came Maidenhood's more tender grace And thoughtful sentiment: And when the first soft airs of Spring Often I watched you moving to and fro And now you paused to train some wandering That marred its perfectness; Or where the lilies of the valley grew, Sometimes as lingering there you walked along, Gazing upon you from my window-sill; They bring the burning tears into my eyes. Oft when the spring its perfumed violets strewed - From which I wanted never to be free. Yet never spoke I of my love; so slow, Not bursting into rapture strange and new, But slowly rising, like a tide to brim My being, widening ever more and more, And deepening all my central life with dim Unconscious fulness, till life its joy ran o'er. Then when I knew at last How very dear thou wast, I dared not trust my tongue to ease the load Of love that lay upon my heart, But lonely, silent, and apart, Of you I dreamed for you I hourly prayed Glad of my secret love, but how afraid! "Twas but a child's affection that you bore Too utterly alone. -- Spring comes again again the roses blowBut you ah, me! not you; Oh! Nina! in your grassy grave w.w.is. DR. JULIUS RODENBERG, of Berlin, together with Mr. E. Dohm (the well-known editor of the Kladderadatsch), are preparing for publication on the 1st of December the first number of a new monthly, Der Salon, which, as the prospectus has it, will try to unite some of the principal features of the English magazine with those of the French Revue. The list of contributors combines the names of most of the celebrated poets, and novelists with those of the best known essayists of Germany. IRELAND FOR THE IRISH. BY AN AMERICAN FENIAN. From Tinsley's Magazine. | Church establishment; but these reformers do not comprehend the Irish people, or they would as soon think of curing a cholera patient with a bread-pill. The Irish in America do not suffer from your bad laws and of them left Ireland when they were mere your Established Church; many thousands children, or have been born in the United States; but do they hate England any the less? Would any reforms, short of the one great reform they demand, and will yet achieve, settle the Irish question for them? Neither will the Irish who remain in Ireland be any more contented with English rule, legislate and reform as you may. There is no doubt about the bona fides of this Article. It is written, as it purports to be, by an American Citizen, and a leading member of the Fenian brotherhood. It would be absurd for the Conductor of this Magazine to disavow participation in the sentiments of the writer; he hopes that the public have known him too long and too well to require any such assurance. But, while Fenianism is the alarmist topic of the day, no one knows the exact meaning of the parrot-cry which every one is repeating; and as Fenian Literature is not to be found in English society, it may be well to learn, from authentic sources, the wishes, hopes, and ma chinations of the Brotherhood. - E. Y. It is very singular that Englishmen cannot be induced to listen to reason in regard to Ireland. Your journals are continually discussing the Irish question, and your public men are constantly talking about it; but they base their discussions upon totally wrong premises, and they talk about it without at all understanding the fundamental facts of the case. The result is, that all the articles in the papers and all the speeches in and out of Parliament, amount to nothing, and Ireland is now more than ever a sharp thorn in the side of self-complacent John Bull. In consequence of this British ignorance and refusal to be instructed by Irishmen, all your endeavors to manage Ireland utterly fail. Since you do not understand the disease, how can you suggest the remedy? A man who hangs his hat over the end of his telescope before looking at the stars may make some very curious observations as to the state of the heavens, but he can hardly be considered a reliable astronomer, and calculations based upon his reports can scarcely be regarded as accurate. But that is precisely what John Bull does when he condescends to examine Irish affairs. He takes out his telescope, points it towards Ireland, claps a hat full of prejudices over the end of it, looks gravely through, and then proceeds to theorise and to legislate. upon the condition of his own hat-lining, having never seen the real Ireland at all. No wonder, then, that all your efforts to regulate the Irish question are so wide of the mark; but it is wonderful that you will persist in refusing to listen to the only class of persons who can give you genuine information, and that you will persist in believing that Englishmen alone can correctly state the views, the aspirations, and the designs of Irishmen. It has occurred to me however, that this new Magazine, which seems to have more enterprise than most of its contemporaries, may also have more fairness; and that its Conductor, remembering that the Irish question is still the topic of the day, and that it equally interests his American and English readers, may have pluck enough to publish an article giving the true Fenian view of the situation. If so, here it is; and if not, let this pile of paper go to the back of the fire, where many a better communication has been consigned by stupid English editors. After so many years of failure, one would suppose that Englishmen would begin to doubt the infallibility of their own views; and feel disposed to hear and consider the Irish side of the Irish question. Though impetuous, the Irish are the most reasonable people in the world; they are rash, but never illogical; they are always ready to give a reason for the faith that is in them, and wherever they have been allowed to present their arguments fairly they have made converts to the Irish cause, as, for example, in France and in the United States. But in England no one is permitted to argue the question except from an English standpoint. It is not too much to say that the whole press is closed against patriotic Irishmen, and that any attempt to hold a public meeting with patriotic Irish speakers would be suppressed by the police, and the participants held as traitors." Occasionally à journal, like the Pall Mall Gazette, affects to give its readers what it calls the Fenian view of the Irish question; but it only sets up a few theories in order to knock them down again, like a child playing with ninepins. Sometimes, also, public men, like The first radical error in regard to IreJohn Bright, admit the justice of the dis- land is to believe that the Irish people will content in Ireland, and demand reforms in be contented with anything less than comthe suffrage, in the tenant laws, and in the plete independence of England; the second |