melancholy fate. The fair Lwau of one and twenty summers resolves to shorten the period of her existence by strangulation, affecting, if not a romantic end!

an

It was night; Lwau and her maid, Minghea, were alone in the "fragrant apartment." Lwau desired Minghea to go and boil her some tea, using this deceit to get her out of the room. As soon as the maid was gone, fastening the door, she made use of a stool to support her feet, then, taking a white sash, she tied it to a beam; next, having made fast the scented gauze handkerchief — the first cause of all her woes around her neck, she joined it to the sash in a dead knot, and kicking away the stool, she swung in mid air, and in the twinkling of an eye her spirit "dissolved in ether,” while her soul sought the habitations of the dead. There was wailing and sorrow in the house of Wang, when the sad spectacle presented itself to their view. A coffin was procured, and all that was mortal of the lovely and accomplished Lwau was consigned to the silent grave amid tears and lamentations.

But the day of retribution was come for the faithless Ting, who, shortly after, most unwilling, "sought the habitations of the dead," to be confronted with the shade of her whom in life he had betrayed! The chief magistrate was informed of the transaction, and Ting was apprehended. On being accused, he denied his guilt with the same audacity that he had lied to Mr. Wang when suing for his daughter's hand. He received fifty blows with the stinging bamboo, and was sent to prison to await his trial, which took place a few days after. The censor, in a voice of wrath, thus addressed him: "To treat with levity or insult the daughter of a Mandarin is one crime. Being already married, to marry another is a second crime. In your marriage contract it is written, 'If the man deceive the woman, may unnumbered arrows slay his body!' I have now no arrows to slay thee; but," added he, raising his voice, "thou shalt be beaten to death with staves like a dog, so thou mayest serve as a warning to all cold-blooded villains in future." The magistrate shouted with a loud voice to the bailiffs and lictors to perform their duty. They, grasping their clubs of bamboo, and—to use an Oriental expression rung all the notes of the gamut simultaneously upon him, pieces of whose body flew about the hall in all directions, a bloody and hideous mass marked the corpse of the betrayer of Lwau!

The tale is not without a moral, though we are at a loss to see wherein the "lasting resentment" of Keaou was displayed. "Reader!

why should he thus court the wealth and beauty of a second bride, and turn his back upon his previous oath? What really was the profit on 't? There is a stanza which says:

"What can you expect to gain by deceiving a tender girl's too confiding heart? Should you say that no vengeance awaits the false and cruel lover,

Please to read this story of lasting resentment, which took place in bygone years!"

NEW BOOKS.

Beauties of De Quincey. Boston: Ticknor and Fields. 1862.

WE always look with mistrust upon such a volume as this; not that there is anything in its outward appearance to offend, — for, on the contrary, it is one of Ticknor and Fields's happiest efforts, but because of the aims of the editor, as expressed by title-page and preface. He undertakes to present De Quincey's works to the "busy" American reader in a condensed, crystallized form. He offers gratuitously to select the "Beauties of De Quincey" for the benefit of "those who have little leisure for the perusal of so many miscellaneous works by the same author." They need only read the selections he has so kindly made, and then consider themselves sufficiently acquainted with this "master of English prose." But yet, after all, what does this eclecticism of the editor amount to? It can express, at the most, but the opinion of a single individual among the multitude of De Quincey's readers. The selection is made merely in accordance with the individual preferences of the selector, and, however we may value his opinion, we must censure the self-assumption which claims the monopoly of a voluminous author, and retails his works in homœopathic quantities, regulated only by private preferences. It is the act of a self-appointed critic, obtruding himself and his opinion in an endeavor to make the latter control the reading of the public; - an act which, in our case, excites the same indignation which we feel when in a book from our College library we find nota benes kindly entered on the margin to indicate where inferior and less acute readers can find the author's fine points and chefs d'œuvre. It will hardly develop an honest and healthy literary taste to devote one's self to books of this sort,- to be guided in forming opinions of an author only by selections made by some unknown editor, and to acquaint one's self only with the passages which that editor has sealed with his especial approval. Reading should include a series of personal discoveries; that is, we only profit by our reading when, upon finishing a book, we can ourselves state, independently of all editors, which chapters are the "beauties" VOL. VIII. No. 73.

42

and which the blemishes of the volume. If we do not read in this way, we not only do not gain in that originality and independence which a good reader as well as a good writer should possess, but we also lose all that zest which a man feels when turning over page after page, stumbling perhaps unexpectedly upon the "brilliants," and valuing them all the more for the reason that he has himself discovered them. It endears an author to us to feel that we are thoroughly acquainted with him,— that our estimate of him has been no partial one, founded merely on a perusal of his most excellent chapters, but one determined also by an intimate and personal acquaintance with his more ordinary moods and trains of thought, and even with his faults, whether glaring or trivial. In fine, a candid reader will like an author only the more heartily when he knows his faults, and can like him in spite of them.

There is probably no modern English prose-writer that could furnish an editor with so many "excerpta" as Thomas De Quincey. He is continually digressing from his main line of thought, waywardly turning aside for a moment from his subject to make you weep, smile, or wonder at some connection of thought, some rapéруov or by-play, — full of the deep tenderness or quaint humor which perpetually meet the reader throughout his volumes. Now these digressions, being but slenderly connected with the main scheme of the chapter, can be easily broken off entire, each ready to be at once introduced as a "beauty into some such collection as the one now before These make pleasant reading; — yet who would not rather wish to read the "Confessions" in their integrity?

us.

too compre

"The Beauties of De Quincey" is a comprehensive title, hensive for a single volume of this size to assume. For such a title is at once suggestive of the quick succession of mystery and fancy, sorrow and humor, and of the quiet strength and precise reasoning, — which prove De Quincey the substantial thinker as well as the delicate humorist. Let the book, then, bear its title modestly, pretending to nothing more than to introduce its reader to a more extended study of the author from whose works it makes its selections, and asking no one to confine his reading to the few specimens which the single volume furnishes.

Cadet Life at West Point. By an Officer of the United States Army. Boston: Published by T. O. H. P. Burnham.

THIS is an easily-written and amusing little book. We have had described German, English, and American student life, but never before, we believe, military student life. The author evidently wrote these pages, as he tells us, for his own amusement simply, in his dull and uneventful life on the plains at "Komanchykastle." He has shown a good deal of ingenuity and cleverness in extracting so much that is amusing and entertaining from the regular and uneventful life which the strict rules of the mili

tary academy enforce, and has certainly succeeded in making his book readable from very scanty materials. The good song "Benny Havens O!" it seems originated at West Point. B. H. was an old man who originally kept "beer and things" within the grounds of the academy, but afterwards, driven out by new regulations, settled down outside the grounds, and made it his business to entertain the cadets, who were bold enough to venture outside the limits, with sweet and stolen pleasures. Think of having Kent's and Lyon's, and all other existing beer-shops, ordered off the premises, or removed four or five miles into the country! If the penalty of expulsion for being seen in such a place were added, great would be the lamentation in Harvard College. A visit to Benny Havens was the greatest crime in the decalogue of the military academy, and woe to the thirsty cadet who should be caught there! Smoking, also, is a most unmilitary indulgence, and a pipe found lying loose about the room is another sure ticket for expulsion. The author tells us how he smuggled in his little supplies of tobacco, and how he concealed his pipes from the unkind vigilance of the thrice-daily inspecting officer. He expatiates with fond remembrance on the summer encampments and the evening hops to which the upper classes are admitted. In a word, he gives us the smallest particulars and incidents of his life there, and for this reason his book is interesting and faithful.

EDITORS' TABLE.

OBITUARY. At the beginning of our Sophomore year, the still waters of College life were thrown into a vast, a fearful commotion. A great change was to be wrought, a great reform to be initiated. A party of unselfish and devoted philanthropists had met in solemn conclave; a constitution had been drawn up, the foundation and surety of the important movement. The projectors, the fathers of reform, began to visit the rooms, and with solemn, convincing words commenced their mission. These were the apostles, the expounders, of the new doctrines. Their business it was, as one of them sagely remarked, to preach the good cause in season and out of season. They did it! Well do we remember when one of these gifted agents honored our apartment with his presence. He broached the object of his visit by the words above quoted, "I, like the Apostle Paul, am ready to preach my great mission in season and out of season." This time it so happened that he was out of season, — decidedly out of season. We were just then poring over our "Analytic," and felt little disposed to discuss a question even of such vital importance as the one in hand. But our unwillingness was of no weight whatever. "Should the great reform fail of careful discussion and consideration because a paltry College recitation stood in the way?" What would be a "dead" compared with the success of the movement, compared with cleansing a single mind from error and flooding it with the great light! "Let us talk, —I may be able to convince you," insisted our persevering visitor. "But I have decided long ago." "But your influence, your influence! It is no great matter to sign this little form of words, 'I hereby promise to abstain'-ah, if you could only know!" “But my lesson, — I have n't got my lesson; and, besides, my mind was made up long ago on this question."- (Reproachfully.) "Your lesson! I am like the Apostle Paul, and must preach the truth in season and out of season; now what are your reasons for refusing to give your name and influence, at least, to our project?". Why, in the first place, I think your plan of reform is weak in its foundations. In fact, you won't reform anybody. Only those who have signed a dozen other temperance pledges will sign this one. Your movement is too sudden, too radical, too unattractive. You put a ban upon a good thing because it is sometimes abused. You should rather-but I am very busy now; some other time we will discuss the matter," (slowly backing my visitor towards the door,) "and then perhaps - -"- "But I am like the apos-" (as the door quickly shuts out his apostolic form).

--

So it ended with us. But many more pliant cases than we were found. A society was formed, consisting chiefly though (a fact worthy of notice) of Sophomores and Freshmen. To give additional zest to the proceedings there were to be literary exercises, debates, and essays. The plan worked very well at first. All, in the first flush of conviction, agreed and worked together harmoniously. But soon there were some waverers, - - some who wished to serve two masters at once. A few found it difficult to conquer a previous predilection to beer. On these a brilliant idea dawned. "Is beer an intoxicating drink?" It is our impression that the debate for a series of meetings turned on this interesting point. But the