vidly and agreeably told.

Of a different order is 'The Days of Bruce,' a historic romance of the
late thirteenth century, which is less historic than romantic, and in
whose mirror the rugged chieftain would hardly recognize his
angularities.

'The Vale of Cedars' is a historic tale of the persecution of the Jews
in Spain under the Inquisition. It is told with intense feeling, with
much imagination, and with a strong love of local color. It is said
that family traditions are woven into the story. This book, as well as
'Home Influence,' had a wide popularity in a German version.

In reading Grace Aguilar it is not easy to believe her the contemporary
of Currer Bell and George Eliot. Both her manner and her method are
earlier. Her lengthy and artificial periods, the rounded and decorative
sentences that she puts into the mouths of her characters under the
extremest pressure of emotion or suffering, the italics, the
sentimentalities, are of another age than the sinewy English and hard
sense of 'Jane Eyre' or 'Adam Bede.' Doubtless her peculiar, sheltered
training, her delicate health, and a luxuriant imagination that had
seldom been measured against the realities of life, account for the
old-fashioned air of her work. But however antiquated their form may
become, the substance of all her tales is sweet and sound, their charm
for young girls is abiding, their atmosphere is pure, and the spirit
that inspires them is touched only to fine issues.

The citation from 'The Days of Bruce' illustrates her narrative style;
that from 'Woman's Friendship' her habit of disquisition; and the
passage from 'Home Influence' her rendering of conversation.

THE GREATNESS OF FRIENDSHIP

From 'Woman's Friendship'

It is the fashion to deride woman's influence over woman, to laugh at
female friendship, to look with scorn on all those who profess it; but
perhaps the world at large little knows the effect of this
influence,--how often the unformed character of a young, timid, and
gentle girl may be influenced for good or evil by the power of an
intimate female friend. There is always to me a doubt of the warmth, the
strength, and purity of her feelings, when a young girl merges into
womanhood, passing over the threshold of actual life, seeking only the
admiration of the other sex; watching, pining, for a husband, or lovers,
perhaps, and looking down on all female friendship as romance and folly.
No young spirit was ever yet satisfied wi