The International in a recent issue had this to say concerning this talented authoress: "'Ossip Schubin' is the pseudonym of Aloysia Kirschmer, an Austrian authoress of growing popularity. She was born in Prague, in June, 1854, and her early youth was spent on a country estate of her parents. Since her eighteenth year she has travelled extensively, spending her winters in some one of the large cities. Rome, Paris or Brussels, and her work shows the keen observation and cool judgment of a cosmopolitan writer. She is well liked in England." The story under consideration is infinitely sad, beautiful, exalting. At one moment you are rejoicing at the idyllic happiness of the lover, the bright promise of a glorious future. Then the scene changes, and your heart is bleeding with unutterable anguish at the mute grief that follows the irreparable loss of his love, which carries in its train lost ambition, talent, manhood. Just let us quote one passage: "There is a suffering so painful that no hand is tender enough to touch it, and so deep that no heart is brave enough to fathom it. Dumbly we sink the head, as before something sacred. Never could he reproach her lying there before him, clad in the blue dress, of which every fold, so dear to him, cried 'forgive!' Not to our desecrated love do I appeal, but to our sweet caressing friendship,—forgive the sister what the bride has done!' How could he reproach her, with her parting kiss still on his lips?"

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An Unofficial Patriot