enjoyed by wealthy ecclesiastic corporations, are too glaringly unjust and indefensible; and, notwithstanding Mr. Fraser's plea on their behalf, must be doomed to speedy extinction. It is monstrous that religious bodies which buy large tracts of valuable land and erect unnecessarily expensive edifices, which they do not always pay for, should be permitted also to shirk the duty of paying their fair share of the civic expenditure.

It is with regret we note that the publication of the Nation, a weekly journal of considerable promise and no little sterling performance, has been discontinued. That it has been languishing for some time was obvious, yet there seemed to be fair reason for hoping that it might successfully tide over its difficulties. Perhaps the attempt to establish an independent weekly of more than average literary ability, was premature; still, it has fought gallant battle, and strikes its flag at last with out discredit or dishonour. In more favourable times it may again appear with more than its early prestige and success; at all events it has not lived in vain. The literary pioneer in Canada of progress and culture in every department of human thought and interest, the Nation has laboured to some purpose, and the seed sown during its too short career has not fallen on stony ground, but will yet produce its fifty or a hundred fold, in a better phase of moral and intellectual development to come.

American parties are absorbed just now in their quadrennial contest for the Presidency. Into the few weeks which yet remain a great deal of political caloric will be diffused-wasted energy expended wantonly and to little purpose. It is almost out of the question to form anything like a trustworthy forecast of the result, there is so much vain prophesying and reckless boasting in the air. Clearly neither party is quite so sanguine as it affects to be: when confidence becomes noisy and obstreperous, little value can be attached to it. The Democrats have made several notable blunders in strategy. It was a mistake to attempt to combine, in so unblushing a way, the hard and soft money wings of the party, by the nomination of Tilden on the one hand with Hendricks on the other. Every attempt to reconcile the

positions notoriously occupied by the two men-and some plausible efforts in this direction have been made-must fail, with the probable result of destroying public confidence in the bona fides of Democracy. To secure the greenback party of the West by selecting Hendricks for the second place, while Tilden, a strongly pronounced advocate of resumption, was nominated as chief standard-bearer, looks too much like party thimblerigging. Another terrible blunder was the nomination, in defiance of his protest, of Seymour as candidate for the Governorship of New York. It disclosed a lot of wire-pulling manoeuvering, not to say falsehood, by no means creditable. The convention was called together again, and Mr. Lucius Robinson was chosen. He is, strictly speaking, strictly speaking, a liberal Republican, casually attached to the Tilden party; and as the candidate for Lieutenant-Governor, Mr. Dorsheimer, is of the same stripe, it is uncertain how far they can count upon the full party vote. At any rate it is unfortunate to be compelled to change generals on the eve of giving battle; or, as Mr. Lincoln put it, unwise "to swap horses when you are crossing a stream." There has been a great deal of bungling intrigue in Democratic management, and this cannot fail to weaken public confidence in the party.

The Republicans have managed their machinery with more tact; yet they are not without serious apprehensions. In order to arouse the North they are endeavouring to re-kindle the war-spirit,-" hoisting the bloody shirt," as it is vulgarly called. It may be doubted whether this is good policy, because, although they may deter some waverers from favouring Tilden, by fastening upon the Democrats the old charge of complicity with the rebels, there is no certainty that they can any longer avail themselves of a spell which has lost its original power. They will certainly injure their cause in the South, by re-opening the old controversy at this distance of time. Indiana and Ohio will hold State elections on the tenth inst., and it may be that they will virtually decide the Presidential contest. If either party succeeds in both these elections the result cannot be doubted, and, at present, there is considerable uncertainty hanging over them. A few weeks since the Republicans seem to have felt perfectly sure of Ohio, and therefore threw all their energy

into the Indiana struggle, so as to defeat Hendricks in his own State. It now appears, however, as if they had been overconfident so far as the former is concerned, and that Mr. Hayes is in jeopardy there. The Germans have deserted to the Democracy in large numbers all over the West, chiefly, no doubt, because they have been irritated by the crusades against their national beverages. Lager-beer and Rhine wine are of greater importance in their eyes than party allegiance, and therefore, being faithful to King Gambrinus, they do not scruple to change sides. Finally, the cause of the Republicans is weighted with the burden of the outgoing administration, and their opponents take care that it shall not hang less heavily, if they can help it. The law of change which sways so many men, especially when the dominant party has been long in office, must also make itself felt in favour of Tilden.

There is but one topic occupying European attention, but that is of striking and absorbinginterest. Before referring to it, however, it may be as well to notice the attitude of the Spanish authorities-chiefly municipal and clerical-in the matter of freedom of worship. It was noticed, when the new Constitution appeared, that its words were exceedingly vague and ambiguous in regard to toleration. Unfortunately, their elasticity is at the service of the oppressor, and not of the oppressed. Wherever a bigoted official or a fanatical priest exercised power, it was certain beforehand that the provision in favour of free worship would be over-ridden. The arrival of ex-Queen Isabella appears to have stimulated the intolerance of these people, and open warfare has commenced. The Spanish Premier, who is supposed to be somewhat liberal in his tendencies, is openly attacked, and the constitutional right of Protestant worship practically annulled. There was to be "no public manifestation," therefore Protestant funerals are forbidden and Protestant schools closed. It is an offence against the law to have public worship with open doors and windows, to sing hymns, or to post announcements upon the doors. In short, an interpretation is put upon the clause which nullifies it altogether. Lord Derby has professed his willingness to interfere in the matter, and it is to be hoped he will take care to do so with effect.

The Eastern question continues to engross the public mind in England. So far as the struggle between the Provinces and the Porte is concerned, unforeseen complications excepted, the war is virtually at an end. Turkey may reject the basis of peace proposed by the Powers, or the Czar may not be able to restrain the sympathies of his subjects, or, lastly, some fresh outbreak of savage barbarity may set all Europe in a flame. The indignation of England is now at fever heat and hardly to be trifled with. On no occasion for forty years, at any rate, has the public heart been stirred as it is at this moment. It is of course easy to sneer, as the Pall Mall Gazette does, at "English sentiment" and "irresponsible philanthropy," but the just anger of an entire nation is not to be appeased by gibes or cynical phrases. Nor will it answer to accuse Mr. Gladstone, and those who share his views, of party motives in this matter. The ex-Premier is the last man in the world to arouse a party crusade when he only desires to bring the moral sense of the nation to bear upon its rulers. His pamphlet upon the Bulgarian atrocities and his speech at Blackheath sufficiently rebut the baseless insinuation. All that Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Bright, the Archbishop of York, the Bishop of Manchester, Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, Mr. Freeman, the historian, the Times, and the Spectator desire is plainly this-and it can hardly be misconceived without design— that the cries of the outraged and bereaved shall be heard in the councils of the nation, and that the policy of the Government shall be shaped with some regard to the claims of humanity.

Happily, there is no fear that Lord Beaconsfield's Cabinet will again fall asleep over this awful page in modern history. The voice of the entire country has been raised too loudly and distinctly to be unheard or unheeded. The bugbear of Russian designs is powerless, when offered as an answer to the indignant outcry of all Christian peoples. There is no need that Russia should be aggrandized, whatever turn matters may take; but there is the most imperative necessity, enforced by the clearest dictates of humanity, that the Turk shall never again be permitted to work his infamous will in Bulgaria. The method of adjustment has been pointed out by Lord Stratford de Redcliffe: "There is much reason to think that a chain

of autonomous States, though still perhaps tributary to the Sultan, might be extended from the Black Sea to the Adriatic, with advantage to that potentate himself. But, at

all events, the very idea of reinstating any amount of Turkish misgovernment in places once cleared of it, is simply revolting."

DANIEL DERONDA. By George Eliot, Author of "Adam Bede," " Middlemarch," &c. Canadian Copyright Edition. Montreal Dawson Brothers. Toronto: Adam, Stevenson. 1876.

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George Eliot's latest work appears to have caused some perplexity to critics, as well as the general reader." The question which suggests itself is one which is sure to arise when a great writer has attained to maturity of power, after having produced much work which must be pronounced of the highest order. Does then "Daniel Deronda" afford satisfactory evidence that the author's exquisite abilities are on the wane, or, on the contrary, does it show a distinct advance in subtler and more deeply spiritual conceptions of man and of the world in which he lives? If the former, then how is the falling off of power manifested? Is it in a more laboured and less facile style of composition, in a feebler construction of plot, in a less accurate analysis of human character,or a growing dimness of the inner sight-or in all of these combined?

that art.

That the writer has elaborated every part of the story with almost painful care may be readily admitted, as well as that the perfection of her art often reveals, instead of concealing Some of the reflections appear farfetched, some of the mottoes or chapter-headings too much worked at, and some of the phrases and expressions stilted almost to affectation. Yet it may be reasonably doubted if there are not evidences of increased earnestness -a more sensitive literary conscience-than of failing power. The writer of genius, especially when cast in the severest intellectual mould, will almost invariably take some such direction as this as the years go by, especially when the moral nature is maturely developed. George Eliot has got, to some extent, not beyond her own depth, but the depth of her readers; and although that is perhaps a misfortune to her and to them, it cannot be termed a sign of weakness in the author. If this be the true explanation, it will go far to account for the lack of humour in "Daniel Deronda" as compared with earlier works. So far as the other possible marks of literary decadence are concerned, they may be dismissed at once. The author

has constructed no plot so skilfully as here, and and yet it is not improbable that some disappointment will be felt by the ordinary novel reader and a shock experienced at the denouement. Gwendolen somehow rather fascinates throughout, and carries the sympathies with her, especially when she passes through the fire of repentence. Not so Mirah, with all her gentleness, for neither her faith nor her sisterly enthusiasm attracts readers in general. As will be seen presently, the plot, artistically woven though it is, probably has more to do with the popular disappointment than any other feature of the work. It seems to be forgotten that George Eliot's theory of her art differs widely from the popular notion. According to the latter, matters should be wound up comfortably at the close of the story: all is well that ends well-in bridal favours and a general gush of happiness for the one who ought to have been the heroine, and that without regard to the paramount claims of right and wrong. Poetical justice is, above all things, to be admired, provided it works pleasantly, but it is not always to be regarded as coincident with that higher justice which judges inexorably both men and women according to their works. The author of "Daniel Deronda" has not so read the secret of human life, and ought not to be so interpreted by art.

The theory of the work before us rests on a few great principles, unfolded and enforced by the the master-hand. No one who reads it with care one owes to a product of genius can miss them. From the first chance meeting of Deronda with Gwendolen Harleth at the German Spa, to that wondrously powerful scene of farewell, the key-note struck at the beginning swells into a refrain which, ever repeated, rises to thrilling and agonizing effect at the last. The lesson is that of Scripture:-" Be not deceived; God is not mocked for whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap." Repentance and triumph after sorrow, suffering, and despair is George Eliot's reward for wrong-doing, and it is the order of the world, not a little gush of weeping and a splendid marriage. Another feature in this work is its strong insistence upon the influence of destiny, supernatural guidance, or whatever the author would call it.

Chance does not underlie even the ordinary tide of human affairs, nay, if we may take Mordecai's mystic utterances as actually expressive of the author's views-and we must do so, considering the figure he makes in the book -then the meeting streams do not flow together by accident. As the threads of life were woven together, by apparently trivial causes, between Gwendolen's life and Deronda's, so, in another direction, were they spun between the death of Mordecaiand the joyous love of Mirah. The two constitute the warp and woof of the story, and the entire fabric was the work of fate or God—that is, it would have been, had the narration been one of actual life instead of fiction. One brief sentence of Mordecai's will illustrate the theory :-"Daniel, from the first I have said to you, we know not all the pathways. Has there not been a meeting among them, as of the operations of one soul, where an idea, being born and breathing, draws the elements towards it and is fed and grows? For all things are bound together in that Omnipresence which is the place and habitation of the world, and events are as a glass wherethrough our eyes see some of the pathways. And if it seems that the erring and unloving wills of men have helped to prepare you, as Moses was prepared, to serve your people the better, that depends on another order than the law that must guide our footsteps."

There is much vagueness in the religious tone of the work; indeed, one almost hesitates to call it religious in any ordinary sense. It is deeply spiritual, often verging on mysticism, and yet its creed may be Pantheism, Theism, or Rationalism of the idealistic school, for aught that is made clearly apparent. The faith of Mordecai is almost vehement, but it is only in the future of his race and its mission, and his, as a prophet of it. The Greek doctrine of destiny, as sternly enforced by the elder writers of tragedy, seems to be recognized, in conjunction with a fervid and mystic Mosaism; yet the effect of the whole is strangely vague and impalpable. From time to time, glimpses are afforded the Christian world of the inner life of the Jewish Church, and our author doubtless has had exceptional opportunities of being well informed on the subject but her readers would certainly like to get some firmer grasp of a movement which is to accomplish so much as a mediator between the religions of the East and West. If we could imagine that the Jewish element in "Daniel Deronda" were introduced solely for artistic purposes there would be an end to speculation in the matter. George Eliot would hardly be guiltyof a blunder in introducing gratuitously either the mysticism of Mordecai or the quasi conversion of Deronda to no practical moral or spiritual purpose. A writer bearing so noble a reputation would hardly trifle with those who admire her genius, by wantonly introducing a somewhat annoying theory. It therefore seems

clear, especially when we remember the evident affection she bears to her hero, that in giving prominence to Mordecai's views she naturally adopts them as her own. The type of character revealed and developed in Mordecai, with so much care and skill, no doubt exists, and was probably drawn in the main from real life. There is a family likeness among the heirs of enthusiasm-whether prophets or dreamers of dreams, whether great benefactors of mankind, deliverers, or the devotees of phantasmal discovery from the first believer in his own inspiration down to the last inventor of an ideal machine that will achieve perpetual motion. The character is real perhaps, yet the fancies and the dreams are but a shifting and precarious foundation for either a faith or a philosophy.

Of the chief personages in the story there is not one which is not painted by the hand of a finished artist. Certainly in no previous work has George Eliot delved deeper into the secret recesses of the human heart. The analysis of Gwendolen's character, and its transformation under the discipline of sorrow could hardly be surpassed. The spoilt and wilful child, determined to shine and rule in every circle, having made herself wretched, but becoming ultimately penitent and, so to speak, regenerated, points by her life a moral often obtruded upon the attention of private circles, but never so deeply impressed before in letters which the world cannot mistake. The breach of faith with Mrs. Glasher-the mercenary marriage with the man whom she thought she could rule because he appeared suave, even-tempered, and patient— brought its own terrible nemesis along with it; and then the terrible revelation dawns upon her, "What was she to do? Search where she would in her consciousness, she found no plea to justify a plaint. Any romantic illusions she had had in marrying the man had turned upon her power of using him as she liked. He was using her as he liked. It was then that she learned to lean upon Daniel for advice, admonition, and stern reproof even. He became at once her mentor and her conscience," and at last led her into the better way. "The poor thing felt herself strong enough to do anything that would give her a higher place in Deronda's mind."

The circumstances of his life, his solitary childhood, his uncertain parentage, acting upon a naturally warm and sympathetic nature had drawn him towards his fellows with a yearning tenderness always pure and unselfish. The return of Gwendolen's pawned necklace at Leubronn was effected with singular delicacy, his sacrifice of University prospects to assist Hans Meyrick, his providing a home for Mirah in her hour of extremity, his patient care of Mordecai --are all proofs of his spiritual goodness of heart. And when he has discovered his Jewish parentage he surrenders head and heart to the guidance of the mystic. After

the accidental drowning of Grandcourt, a way seemed to be open for the union of Deronda and Gwendolen; but the "divinity which shapes our ends," and is all-pervading throughout the story, had otherwise determined. If Mirah had not been rescued, if Mordecai had never been known, and if the hero's mother had not relented and declared him to be a Jew,❘ events might have been otherwise ordered. Deronda's bride is Mirah, the gentle Jewess, passionately proud of her faith, and of her dying brother. Of the other characters we have no room to speak at length. Grandcourt, iron-willed, selfish, heartless, and altogether evil; Sir Hugo Mallinger, Klesmer, and Gascoigne-all pleasant companions, each in his own way. Of the more powerful scenes in the work, there are especially notable Deronda's interviews with his mother, and the farewell scene with Gwendolen. The latter especially is wonderfully thrilling in power and pathos. The sin is past, the struggle of penitent resolve already begun, and then with a parting kiss, their first and last, Deronda vanishes from the world with the grateful words in his memory— "I said-I said-it should be better-better with me for having known you." And there, as she sobs, we leave Gwendolen Grandcourt, heart-stricken, yet full of hopeful resolve, to her maimed life-a human torso, beautiful even in desolation.

IN INDIA; Sketches of Indian Life and Travel, from Letters and Journals. By Mrs. Murray Mitchell. T. Nelson & Son, London and New York.

At a time when the royal visit to India and the discussion as to the imperial addition to Her Majesty's titles have stirred up an increased interest in our Indian possessions, such a lively, readable book as that of Mrs. Murray Mitchell, containing so many graphic sketches of Indian social life, will be read with pleasure and profit. As Dr. Mitchell says in his brief, frank preface to his wife's book:-"We have not many books about India written by ladies; and, if I am not mistaken, there is a considerable amount of information in these pages which will not be found elsewhere." For example, have any of our readers (who have not been in India) a clear idea of the dress and appearance of the Bengali "swell?" Here he is, a full length portrait, done from life :

"The Bengali, as a race, are rather slight in physique, with lithe, active figures, dark complexion, keen eye, bright intelligent expression, and features often finely cut. The Baber of the period, or 'young Bengal,' is dressed in white trousers, shiny boots, a long coat of broadcloth, picked out in red or yellow at the seams, and a scarf of delicate white muslin becomingly arranged to cross on the breast and and hang down the back, something like a

Highlander's plaid. To this is added, in full dress, the flat, round turban, fashioned in rolls of shawl-pattern and white, with the shirtcollar and gold studs and Albert chain of any English dandy. The orthodox Hindu gentleman, on the contrary, wears his simple chapkan' or cotton coat, and usually has a splendid cashmere shawl thrown over his shoulders."

Calcutta is so graphically described that we feel as if we were driven along the Maidan, or Esplanade, and surveyed the magnificence of the English quarter and the mingled grandeur and squalidity of the old native town. We get vivid glimpses of domestic and social life, of heathen ceremonies and festivals, and of that which naturally interests a Christian lady more than anything else the blank and dreary existence of her Indian sisters, imprisoned in dismal seclusion within the harem-like zenanas. The zenana life Mrs. Mitchell describes as only a woman could have been able to do, for these female apartments are of course forbidden ground to masculine travellers, and indeed it is only within the last few years that they have been open, as they are now, to the visits of female missionaries. Mrs. Mitchell takes us with her into bare, cloister-like apartments, looking only into dull, dark courts, where pretty, gentle child-wives, in floating gossamer draperies, come joyfully to greet the welcome Christian visitors, whose instruction makes the only variety and brightness in their otherwise blank and colourless lives. "The zenana teacher," says Mrs. Mitchell, "is invariably welcomed with the most demonstrative joy. Her visits seem to bring life and brightness to these dull homes, and her pupils long for the hour when she is to arrive. When there is sickness or trouble, her sympathy and help are counted on and prized, and she is the adviser in every difficulty. One old widow told her teacher that it was 'sunshiny' when she came and cloudy' when she was absent."

The wrongs of Indian women, as a class, are painted by Mrs. Mitchell with heart-stirring pathos, and in colours not too strong, sad as the picture is. She thus strongly puts the question of female education in India :

"The more one knows of zenana work, the more important it will appear. The arguments for it are drawn usually from the state of the poor neglected women, and too much cannot be said from this point of view. Their condition is as sad and sorrowful as can possibly be pictured. A Hindu lady once said of the life they lead: 'It is like that of a frog in a well; everywhere there is beauty, but we cannot see it; it is all hid from us.' There could not be a more apt illustration. But there is also another side, where the arguments are equally cogent, namely, the influence on the men which the elevation of the women would exercise. At present they are a hindrance to progress among the men.