abric was worn under it, and
encased the arms. The shapely neck and throat were bare, though almost
hidden by a wealth of wavy golden tresses that flowed down her
shoulders. Her hat appeared to have been constructed out of the skin of
the snowy heron, with its beak and plumage preserved intact, and dressed
into the jauntiest style. Leggings of strong buckskin, that formed a
protection against the briers and roughness of the forest, were clasped
around a slender ankle, and embroidered moccasins completed an attire
that was not in the style of the girl of the period, even a century
ago." This nymph was fishing, and for a float used the bud of a water
lily! This is quite characteristic of the author's idea throughout. In
losing civilization this girl put on all the supposed graces and none of
the known brutishness of the wild state. The result is an incongruous
character, but it is quite in harmony with the general notion that the
natural state is one of greater perfection than that we really dwell in.
As for the story, it relates to Revolutionary times, introduces
Washington and the Continental army, with battles, dangers, and other
lively and thrilling situations. In plot it is crude and rough. The
author makes the artistic mistake of introducing religion as a principal
element of his tale, though it does not relate to a time or to persons
characteristically religious. The variety of incident, the presence of
historical characters, including Washington and "Captain" Molly, and a
certain _quantum_ of real skill in the author, will no doubt make this
book acceptable to the uncritical, but it does not deserve the attention
of others. We notice that the publishers announce the "fourteenth
thousand," which is the best indication of the book's popularity.

* * * * *

The ranks of the rhymers of the day are thronged with women, among the
better of whom is the author of "Edelweiss,"[22] who has gathered her
occasional verses into a pretty volume under the title of that graceful
and tender little poem. Her title-page bears no publisher's name and her
dedication to friends, whose loving kindness has welcomed them one by
one, and at whose request they have been gathered together, seems to
imply that they are privately printed. If this is because no publisher
would undertake the production of the volume, we do not wonder; not
because of the inferiority of the poems, for they are much better than
many