sion; but it is probable that 'Muley Malek, the King,' a lay of chivalry, will have more numerous admirers. There is also 'From the Earth a Cry,' reviewing the leading events of the decade which closed in 1870. The heart-poems here are highly impressive in their truth. Here and there, on casual fly-leaves, we find curt truths; thus:—
"'Life is a certainty,
Death is a doubt;
Men may be dead
"While they're walking about.
Love is as needful
In being as breath;
Loving is dreaming.
And waking is death.'
"Here is another leaflet; an epigram if you please to call it so:—
"'You gave me the key of your heart, my love,
Then why do you make me knock?'
'O, that was yesterday, saints above!
And last night—I changed the lock!'
"Apropos of the season, which holds back its beauty and bloom, here is a bit of truth:—
"'O, the rare spring: flowers! take them as they come;
Do not wait for summer buds, they may never bloom;
Every sweet to-day sends, we are wise to save;
Roses bloom for pulling, the path is to the grave.'
"In conclusion, we earnestly hope that Mr. Boyle O'Reilly, who writes so well, wilt challenge our attention, our admiration, far more frequently than he yet has done."
From the New York Herald.
"Mr, O'Reilly has treated with a beautiful purpose the theme of four men, each imagining the statue that may be carved from a block of marble. Love is the first, Revenge the second. Suffering Motherland the third, and Sorrow the last. All these are strongly, nay, passionately drawn, with that
