The Sun.
London, England, 1863-06-01 00:00:00

The St. James's Magazine.

We have, as usual, further instalments of the two
stories that aro gradually proceeding in these pages.
There is some similarity between them, inasmuch
as we apprehend that both in "Aubrey Marston"
and "Madeleine Graham" skilfully concealed fraud
is a prominent agent. There are some points in the
latter which will remind the reader of a cause celebre
which was heard some years since. "Home Life in
Algiers" is one of those papers on the French
colony which are not uncommon in serials. It is
founded on a recent French work. There are two
papers of warning to credulous and impres-
sible mortals, each narrating the story of
daring and successful tricks, which were too
serious in their results to the victims to be alto-
gether laughable. The sufferers are very different
specimens of the genus dupe, the one being the
sharp, practical partner in a rich City firm ; the
other a widow lady of " nerves" and " flusters."
The gentleman falls a victim to the acts of a lady's
maid, who passes herself off as an heiress, the
heiress's uncle being a principal party to the scheme.
The lady rashly draws a large sum of money from
the bank alone. She is watched, followed, dragged
from the railway carriage she enters, on a charge
of shoplifting, by " Inspector" Marsh and his assis-
tant, taken in a cab to the station-house, and on the
way relieved of meney, watch, and jewellery, to
discover at last that the station-house is a blacking
warehouse, and the whole affair an artful and daring
plot for the transfer of the hundred and forty-nine
pounds from her cherished reticule to the pockets
of Inspector Marsh. The fifth part of " Royal
Favourites" tells the story of the rise and down fal
of the Concini, the unworthy favourites of an un-
worthy mistress, Marie de Mediei, consort of Henry
the Fourth, and Queen Regnant of France.

London Society.

London Society is, as usual, bright and sparkling,
and full of fascinations for the idle hour, the railway
train, or the reader of any kind who shrinks from
solid and perhaps tedious study. Tales and sketches,
both of pen and pencil, abound ; the latter, gene-
rally, of a very high order—witness the brilliant
Amy and the discontented Lady Clare of the pre-
sent number. " London Society Abroad" is an
agreeable chronicle of continental wanderings, not
without a tinge of romance ; " Paris at Easter" is
another picture of foreign life. This time among
the natives. " Out of Town in the Season" is a
light and pretty domestic tale, while " A Dreadful
Discovery" is a tragical farce. Part VII. of
" Cricketana" relates the fortunes of recent matches,
and a paper on " London Editors" gives us some ac-
count of the leaders of the Fourth Estate a century
since. " The Flowers of the Season" is a pleasant
essay, prettily illustrated ; and an essay on " Kent
and its Oysters" will delight the epicure.

The National Magazine.
The National Magazine, although not equal to
many of its rivals, has improved of late. There is
no lack of fiction, for we have three tales or in-
stalments of tales, one of them being from the pen
of the well-known author, Captain Mayne Reid.
The second possesses those elements of mystery and
excitement so highly prized by some readers, while
the third is a more simple story of the conflict be-
tween love and ambition. Its scene is laid in Ame-
rica. A paper on the customs of Calabar on the
African coast recounts some of the singular super-
stitions and cruel practices of the natives. A criti-
cism on the Academy Exhibition, and a tribute to
the memory of John Clare are among the remaining
papers.

Macmillan's Magazzne.
Macmillan is more entertaining than usual this
month. It opens, of course, with that inevitable
feature in its table of contents--the eontinnation of
the
storyst?ry of s, Vincenzo, or Sunken Rocks." The
..117
xlis interesting, but painful; turning princi-
Nyhol4 it leaves
domestic wretchedness of its hero,
tinio:i.timr.eLeint
.an awkward and invidious posi-
tion,
the,,,i.....-"Z_
Landscape,"
contributes a criticism on " An i-
. dilt"in_.d. which treats of some
in our day4tive features of those branches of art
for % litt
to Sir Edwin etntailag the f ,
favour this mental:lll44"r'
~ler,lBltut,ire,rther
Artistic subjects
in the former
subjects are in
to an interestin'
Taste in the ArrilaPer on we come
which four friendsangemellt utile Exercise of
inclinations, hold disCr vary varied liv,°'lsee'' in
colours and other 84..0i:firs° ou the
iluabits and
sphere of daily life. mr.Buonenaees comiel'grealaeteY theo
of his able currency articles, inra7Phrice 11"1":oth
unravel that mystical and intricate subject he strives another
use of the uninitiated. He will suobject for the
do
he succeed in removing the general god service if
impression that
questions of currency are too abstruse and difficult
for ordinary men to study. There is no topicof
more vital interest to our commercial men, nor one
which is less popular as a science or a study. ~ Our
Audience" is the title of an amusing paper, by
Mr. Allston Collins, in which he is justly severe on
the foolish practice of professing to read while
giving three-fourths of the attention to other things.
He introduces his complaint humorously enough by
telling us hew he was perched on the top of an
omnibus, from which he could see the proceedings
of the fair occupant of a brougham which travelled
in its vicinity along Oxford-street. The lady, he
had reason to suppose, was reading an article of
his own composition, and what was his horror to
see the book go down at every special attraction
on the
hitheroute, and the reader's attention wander
eloquent periods to the fascinating bonnets
or marvellous silks she •
k
was passing. This divided
attention gives the key to his discourse, but we
fear that the
clue
of ,
readers he alludes to, who
are generally ladies, are incurable offenders,. No

one who really cares much for what is being read,
or understands much about it, would join a conver-
sation, take up knittings, or study the mysteries of
the toilette parparenth,lse. The practic contribu-

tions are far above the average. There are some
graceful and mournful verses by the Wan of Can-
terbury, in which, however, we must deprecate the
rhyme of "gone" and " dawn," and a very charm-
ing poem by Mrs. Norton on " Helen's Tower,"
recently erected by Lord Dufferin on the coast of
his Irish estate, and so called in honour of his
mother. It is, says the poetess, meant to chronicle—
The love that dawns with dawning life,
And lives till Life is done;
A watchtower in the weary strife,
Where Fate's rough billows run,
The changeless love, where change is rife
A Mother's for her Son I

Oh I whether gleaming from the hill,
When stars the night adorn,
Or reddening with the silver rill,
Tinged by the rosy morn—
Repeat the gracious legend still
To children yet unborn 1

Tell how the wisest and the best
Have owned its holy power ;
Tell how the worst—in wild unrest
Of some repentant hour,—
Its spell of comfort have confect,
With tears in bitter shower.
Like that great love—(whose strength hath made
The feeblest bosoms warm)
THOU givest only mortal aid,
Thou canst not rule the storm;
But eyes of souls that are afraid
Shall bless the steadfast form 1
When lurid lightning glimmering flecks
The elemental war,
Drenched sailors, treading slanting decks,
Shall hail thee from afar I
Even so, the drifting HUMAN wrecks
Turn where their watch-towers are.