New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1858-01-06


We have received from the publishers, Messrs
Ticknor 4 Fields, Boston, through Mr. j. G. Morgan,
the fourth and last part Of Charles Reade's great
novel, White Lies.n We have no hesitation in pre-
dieting that when the novel shall appear in complete
form, hound, it Is intended to be- it viii rise to an
immense popularity throughout the country. II is
no maudlin, miik-and.water lucubration, like many
Of the sensation novels that are offered to the
public nova days but q manly, stirring, lifelike
series Of pictures forchly and wildly delineated
that the reader rather feels as Il he were actually
seeing the events, instead Of reading about them
and the story has, too, q very pointed moral which
is thrillingy neulcated throughout ts whole length
As specimen q Mr.. Reades power Of description,
let US give the following picture OF grlefstricken
mother over her child torn from her by adverse cir
cumstances, and brought 10 her clandestinely
Laurie drew back the screen and there was a sweet
little berceau that had once been Josephines own
and In It, sunk deep in snow white lawn, was sleep,
ing child, that lay there looking rose might look
could II fall upon new fallen snow.
At sight OF i Josephine uttered little cry not
loud but deep-ay cry to bring tears into the eve
Of the hearer, and she stood trembling from head to
loot her hands clasped' and her eye fascinated and
any child under this roof! What have Won doueY,,
but her eye, fascinated and liked, never LETT the
cradle.
d II saw you Ianguishine, dying, for want Of him.
sOh ii anybody should come ~ bat her eve never
stirred an inch from the CRADLE
mo no Emo the door Is locked Jacintha watches
below, there is no dahl. All at hast ah poor
For. as Laure was speaking the young mother
Hpfnng silently upon her child. You would have
thought she was going 70 kill him her head reared
itself again and again like crested snakes, and
again and again, and again aud again plunged down
upon the child, aud she kissed his little body from
head 70 loot with seft violence, aud murmured
through her starting tears, MY child my darling
my angel oh, my poor boy my child my child
will ask my female readers OF every degree Il
tell their brothers and husbands all the young noble
did. How she sat on the floor. and had her enid on
her bosom how she smiled over it through her tears
how she purred over IL; how she, the stately one
sped aud plattled over il and how life came pour
ing into her heart from Il.
Before she had had il into her arms 1--WE minutes
her pale cheek was as red as rose and her eyes
brighter than diamonds,
Bless you, Iaure bless you bless youl Ia one
in my life"
there Is draught,n cried she, with maternal
anxiety 'close the panel Laufe.n
No. dear or could not call to Jacntha, or She
70 me hvt will shift the screen round between him
a dlc, .ne Sraught There-now come to his aunta
Then Laure sat on the floor too. and Josenh;ne mt
her boy on aants ap aud took distant yie,, al
MIN. but she could n0t bear so vast a senaration
long She must have him To her bosom agsip '''''-'
are unclosing.n 10y eses
But be must not, love- said Laure athere mt
him back into this eradle-quickD P@'
This could not be done so adrotIy but what vonno
master did wake, aud began TO cry tolerably loud
Laurie rocked the cradle hastily.
Sing, josephine said she and she hegan an oil
fashioned Breton chant or lullaby
Josephine sang with her, and, singing, watched
with smile her boy drop of by degrees 70 seen m
DER the gentle motion aud the uing song. They sanI
and rocked Gil the lids creeping down and hi.
the great blue eyes but still they sang aud rocked
tuiling The hoyand gaddening their own hearts: &,
the quaint old Breton ditfy tuneabIe as the arl
fhaf carols over the green wheat in April; and IL
words SO simple and mothefly, that nation ha
taken them 10 heart Such songs bind ages together
and make the loly and low akin by the great ties .
music and The heart. Many Breton peasants bo
som IN the oiden time had gusfcd over her sleepnj
boy az the young DANES Of Beanrepaire gushed nov
III this quaint funefnl lullaby.