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eyed campanulas have faded long ago in my mother's China rase. Can Abdoul have learned to feel himself a stranger in the Mother lanthe's home? Can he doubt that Havilah is his friend?"

• The child of the free air bas longed to pursue the mountain birds, and gather the flowers that grow on the topmost crags. Ile has thought, in the lonely night, of the orange trees beside the fountain, and his soul has pined for the touch of the healing hand. Does Ilavilah remember the day when the vile Turk struck the Irab boy to the ground, and they brought him bleeding hither?" The fire of mingled einutions flashed in the Ishmaelite's eye as he thus spoke, and flinging back the sleeve of his embroidered jacket he displayed a scar which stretched from his elbow to his wrist, gazed at it for a moment, then changing from a tone of wild excitement to a gentle and subdued utterance, said eloquently, it the same time gazing with grateful tenderness in Havilah's face : “ Yes, the wound was deep, and its healing slow; but the arın should be gladly bared once more to the sabre : if the boy might call back the long, sunny days when Ianthe poured the balm on his wound, and his heart was comforted, and the rose of Lebanon smiled on him, and he felt no pain.”

“ Those were happy days," said lIarilah, - When Ianthe's little daughter found a pleasant playmate in Sheik Zanadeen's son. But he has become a . inan since then ; he rides proudly upon his white mare, and hunts with his good falcon. Ianthe's garden is not broad enough for him now that he has spread his wings, else why comes he not bither."

“Sheik Zanadeen's son has not been his own master," replied the youth ; " he has been in the service of the Frank ; and whom Abdoul serves, he serves. He comes now to say farewell. To-morrow he departs for the desert. Will Iavilah think, when he is far away, of him who is unworthy to kiss the soil on which she treads?"

“Havilah will not forget to pray to her God for the playmate of her childhood, when he is guiding the Englishman through distant lands."

The Englishman remains in El Fureidis," said the Arab slowly, and with emphasis, at the same time fixing on Havilab an eye whose keenness scanned every line of her countenance.

"Apparently it satisfied him, for the scrutinizing frown passed away from his face when she replied with apparent indifference to his announcements, Why, then, hasten, Abdoul hence ? "

To pursue the desert winds, to chase the fleet gazelle, to spur the khadhere across the soft sands which are as cushions to her feet. Abdoul has been absent too long. The old man sits in the door of his tent, and longs for his son's embrace. In the morning he says, 'Inshallah, but he will come to day ;' in the evening he sighs, “ Allah, alas why comes he not?' The arrow of the desert hears the sigh which comes to him on the night breeze, and he must speed him from the bow."

May the blessing of Heaven go with you,” said Havilah, with feeling. “May you find Sheik Zanadeen and your little brothers well ; may your coming bring joy to the old chief's heart; and when his eyes are satisfied with the presence of his son, may some kind errand send you once more to El Fureidis."

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“The youth bowed low, touching his head, lips, and heart, in the same expressive and dignified manner that had marked his demeanor more than once during the interview, then answered :

“ When the husbandman puts his sickle to the yellow corn, and the olive trees drop their ripe fruits into the laps of the maidens, Abdoul will return to guide the Frank into Southern lands; meanwhile, Allah protect this house, and send his gentlest breezes to blow on the Mother Ianthe.”

“My mother,” said Havilah,“ would gladly give a parting blessing to him whom she used fondly to call the son of her adoption; but she has been weary, and now she sleeps.”

“Say to her," said the boy with enthusiasm, “that Abdoul loves her image, and bears it with him in his heart that he hears her voice when the turtle dove coos to its mate, and feels the soft pressure of her hand on his head, when the south wind blows from Araby. For Havilah, Abdoul, has brought this casket of sweets, and bids it whisper what he fain would say.” As he spoke, he produced from amid the voluminous folds of his silken abayah an exquiste little casket of sandal wood, inlaid with pearl,—a master-piece of Damascene taste and skill,—and gracefully bending on one knee, he laid it on the step at her feet.

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Pp. 65, 66.

The incidents of the stay of Meredith in El Fureidis, are interesting. The visits to the Maronite Convent—to the Emir's palace—and the mountain rambles will not fail to please the reader. Meredith's heart is won by the beauty and accomplishments of Havilah. He confides his love to her father, and the Mother Ianthe is commissioned to acquaint her daughter with it. In the interview between the mother and child, the authoress has betrayed some inconsistency. Havilah's whole nature is changed. She is not at all the same creature that we have seen in the preceding portion of the story. She is now a calm, clear discerner of the most intricate and subtle mysteries of the human heart. She is made to know too much ; to feel too much. Meredith is rejected and he departs from the village. In depicting the feelings of Meredith after his rejection, the authoress evinces a stiffness and want of ease which is not seen elsewhere. Meredith is made to appear rather awkward ; and the proud, haughty and learned Englishman does some things that are very silly. After a protracted absence, Meredith returns to El Fureidis. His arrival is opportune. The Mother Ianthe has died during his absence, and M. Trefoil is completely crushed by the blow. By his promptness and energy Meredith saves the village from destruction by the huge masses of water which have been formed by the melted snows.

At the invitation of Mustapha Osman, M. Trefoil, Havilah,

Meredith, and Father Lapierre visit Damascus. llere the author has excited our admiration and surprise. It is difficult to conceive how one', whose information has been gained only from books, can present such life-like pictures of the far-famed City of the Caliphs. On their return from Damascus, M. Trefoil and his party are persuade to visit the encampinent of Sheik Zanadeen, Abdoul's father. The author not presents to us an excellent picture of Bedouin life. Here is given the chef d'aurre of the book. On the last night of their stay in the Bedouin camp, Ilarilah, whose fears are excitei by Abdoul's jealousy of Veredith, cannot sleep, but spends the night in watching. At last she sees a figure cautiously approaching Mercolith's tent ; and leaving her own and following it rapidly, she reaches the tent just in time to catch the arm of Abdoul, as he aims a blow at the sleeping Eng. lishmau. Wrenching the dagger from him, and leading him to an open space in the centre of the encampment, she reproaches him for his baseness. Meredith, who has been awakened by the noise in his tent, comes out unperceived by llavilah or Abdoul, and stands behind them watching theni. The ensuing scene is finely executed and is decidedly the most vivid in the entire story. Humbled and abashed, Abdoul tries to defend himself, by charging Havilah with loving the Englishman. She confesses it, and vindicates her love. At last Abdoul retires conquereil, and as he goes off, Meredith joins llavilah. Then, in the boundless desert, with the wild fantastic tents of the Arabs on all sides of them, and the gray dawn just lighting up the scene, they are betrothed. Shortly after their return to El Fureilis, Meredith and llavilah are married, and prepare to leave for England. Just before the vessel sails, Abdoul comes on board, and in a brief and touching interview, takes leave of llavilah. Soon after, the vessel speeds out to

sea.

The book is finished, and we close it with a sigh. While it is, as we have already observeil, far from being perfect, while it contains faults, which the authoress would have done well to hare avoided, it contains numerous beauties, probably more than any other recent American book by a female author ; and it has won, no doubt, some thousands of new admirers for the writer.

But a short time ago the public were agreeably surprised by the appearance of a new star in the literary firmament. I new work, entitled “Beulah," was given to the world ; and it has met with

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well deserved success. The author, it appears, is Miss Augusta J. Evans, a young lady of the South—a native of Alabama, we believe. The scene of the story is laid in a Southern city-Mobile is, doubtless, the place. Miss Evans has committed an error in neglecting to give the name of the city, as only those who are acquainted with it can determine it. Others are left to the sometimes unpleasant task of guessing at it. We are introduced to an orphan asylum, one of the many of such institutions of which the South may well be proud, and to which she owes so much. Sitting upon the steps of the asylum are three girls—mere children-one a dark, languishing, Italian beauty_Claudia ; the other, a little cherub, with a face like one of those that Raphael has made more lovely by his magic pencil, Lilly; the third, the heroine of the book, Beulah. "At a first casual glance one thought her homely, nay, decidedly ugly: yet, to the curious physiognomist, this face presented greater attractions than either of the others.

A pair of large grey eyes, set beneath an overhanging forehead-a boldly projecting forehead, broad and smooth, a very large but finely cut mouth, an irreproachable nose of the order furthest removed from aquiline, and heavy, black eyebrows, which, instead of arching, stretched straight across and nearly met. There was not a vestige of color in her cheeks ; face, neck, and hands wore a sickly pallor, and a mass of rippling jetty hair, drawn smoothly over the temples, rendered this marble-like whiteness more apparent.” p. 8.

In the opening of the story there is an awkwardness and want of skill, which is plainly and painfully evident in the prim and precise manner in which the children converse. That sweet and artless recklessness which is so charming in children, is wanting in thesc. All speak with the inost commendable correctness and precision, as if they were declaiming before an audience of critics; and the reader cannot refrain from an expression of approval, such as “well done,” when they have finished. Lilly is Beulah's sister, and is sure of winning a place in the reader's heart. She is taken by a Mrs. Grayson, with Claudia, and adopted.

Another character is now introduced, Eugene Graham, the boy lover of Beulah. After Lilly's departure from the asylum, Beulah enters the family of a Mrs. Martin, as a nurse. IIer lot is very hard. Here she exhibits, for the first time, that wonderful self-control, and that stern and inflexible will which characterize her throughout

the book. Dr. Hartwell, the liero of the story, is now brought forward. A model of manly beauty, but cold and cynical ; his naturally warm nature frozen by the bitter experience he has been subjected to. Calm and passionless, learned and proud, he is a being that we wonder at, while we admire'. Ile seems to be something above mankind in general. It seems to us that the character is a little overdrawn. Certain it is, that in inany points it is weakly supported. Some litile inconsistency is also betrayed in various stages of the story. After the death of her sister Lilly (an event which greatly mars the plot), Beulah is adopted by Dr. Ilartwell, and educated by him. Eugeue (raham is Europe, and Claudia is withdrawn from the stage. New actors, however, take their places. Mrs. Chilton, Pauline, Cornelia Graham, and Clara Saunders are well-drawn characters. After a long and not untroubled school life, Beulah bears off the highest honors of her school. The great lesson of the work is now commenced. It is to teach that women, in the exercise of their independent and self-relying powers, are happier than at any other time. Beulah, rather than live dependent upon Dr. lIartwell's bounty, embraces a life of toil and hardship. She obtains a situation as teacher in one of the public schools. Dr. Hartwell, offended at this, absents himself from the city.

Clara Saunders, a sweet, winning, artless creature, is now Beulah's only coinpanion. The contrast between the two is very great. Clara is mild, gentle ard amiable ; clinging to others rather than depending upon herself. Beulahı, is a grand embodiment of the authoress' idea of what a woman should be Noble, independent, high-souled, and self-reliant, conscious of her own superiority, she trusts to herself in everything. Most persons call her stubborn—and, it seems, that she is a little too much so. But her stubbornness has its charm, and will win the respect of every reader. She was rather too sensitive, also ; and if we may be allowed to say it, a little too self-conceited. Be this as it

may, the character is in many respects the creation of romance. There are few, very few Beulah's in the world, and the picture drawn of her is hardly true to nature. Miss Evans has gone

too much to extremes with hier heroine. Yet the character evinces much skill in its conception, and this is especially shown in the developement of it. In the woman, we see the same attributes that we admired, or disapproved in the girl, matured by time. This is the

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