The public will learn with pleasure that Messrs. Murphy & Co. will shortly issue the following works, viz.

ELEMENTS OF GEOMETRY AND TRIGONOMETRY. By B. Sestini, S. J., author of Analytical Geometry, Elementary Algebra, and A Treatise on Algebra-Professor of Natural Philosophy and Astronomy in Georgetown College.

To those engaged in the laborious duty of teaching, it must afford much satisfaction to know that such men as Prof. Sestini have undertaken the arduous task of simplifying and rendering more pliant the instruments, if we may use the expression, of imparting instruction. Of the learned Prof. it is unnecessary to speak; his well known reputation, and the numerous works with which his name is connected, are a sufficient gua rantee for the character of the new work shortly to be presented to the public.

One of the chief merits of Prof. Sestini's Mathematical Works, and one that has rendered them so deservedly popular, is the clearness and brevity with which they pre sent to the pupil the most difficult mathematical problems. Touching this subject, we transcribe the following observations from the preface of the work, now being prepared. "But the opinions of men vary with the times; and one who in our days would venture to recommend the abridgment of the time commonly given, in modern institutions, to natural sciences, and given, not unfrequently with considerable prejudice, to a more solid instruction in literature and moral philosophy, would be censured as the ignorant advocate of an obsolete theory. . . . .

"The preceding remarks have already furnished the reason of the plan followed in the present elementary work: and, first, since geometry is not to be severed now from the other branches of mathematics, but forms part of the same science with them and succeeds algebra, he who teaches or writes a Geometry for schools, supposes the knowledge of algebra, or at least some practice in algebraical language. In the present work, with the exception of the doctrine of ratios and proportions, which is common to all the various branches of mathematics, it may be said that nothing is supposed or borrowed from algebra, except its language; and he who objects to it as a mixing up of algebra with simple geometry would judge as some did of the publications of the Baron of Zach, written with Greek characters, but in the French language, and thought by them to be Greek, when, in fact, it was nothing else but French. But, some would ask, why make use of the algebraic language in geometry? I would ask in my turn, Why do you wish that geometry should succeed algebra? Is it not to derive some benefit from algebra? But I will rather propose another question: Is it not you who require to travel over a long journey in a short time? The algebraic language is laconic: it says much in a few words; and that which, if expressed in the old style, would require a book, may be reduced to a few pages by the use of the terminology of algebra, whilst the reasoning remains still as vigorous and as lucid as before. In this manner you secure copiousness of matter and economy at the same time, and the pupil is prevented from losing the practice of algebraic language.'

THE LIFE OF MRS. ELIZA A. SETON, Foundress and first Superior of the Sisters, or Daughters of Charity, in the United States. By the Rev. Charles I. White, D.D. No work ever issued from the Catholic press of America has met with a more flattering reception from the public than the "LIFE OF MRS. SETON." and interesting character, arising from the variety and importance of the details preIts instructive sented in the narrative, gives it a charm for every class of readers. Whether we view the subject of this biography in youth or mature age, as a daughter or a mother, as an inquirer after religious truth, or as a member of the Church, in secular or in the seclusion consecrated to the practice of the evangelical counsels, sie appears, at all times, a model for imitation. In a literary point of view, her letters and other writings are admirable specimens of English style, remarkable for their force and elegance. In addition to these features of the work, it is so constructed as to embody the more prominent events in the history of the Church in the United States during the period which it embraces.

GRANTLEY MANOR, the well known and favorite novel, by Lady Georgiana Fullerton. To be followed by other works of this distinguished authoress.

Lady Fullerton is indeed a novelist-not a mere tale-writer; but, with all her power and ability, she seeks no artistic triumph. Her novels have a lesson—a moral-of practical utility; while every page contains observations and suggests reflections that cannot fail to excite noble and generous feelings in the hearts of the young. Her works have become a part of the standard Catholic literature of our language. Amid the host of lady writers who have contributed their portion during the present century, there are few who surpass her, or even vie with her. There is a charm and beauty in her narrative totally independent of the descriptive power to which of late so exaggerated a position is assigned. She paints characters, not inanimate scenery.

A UNIFORM SERIES OF THE POPULAR TALES AND ROMANCES of M. Hendrik Conscience, the great novelist of Belgium,

The Flemish author, whose works are about to be presented to American readers, has long enjoyed an European reputation. He was born at Antwerp, of French parentage; and, although perfectly familiar with his paternal language, chose to select the old familiar tongue of the Flemings to introduce his admirable stories to the understanding and heart of his countrymen. It might have been supposed that their publication in a dialect so uncommon throughout the continent, would have limited his readers to Belgium and Holland; but such was the interest excited by his descriptive power, his pathos, humor and originality, that we find his books were speedily translated in Germany, and followed by editions in English at London, French at Paris, Danish at Copenhagen, Italian in Italy, and even in Bohemian at Prague. As a writer of fiction he has perhaps never been surpassed. His romances possess the varied interest of Scott, Dickens and Anderson; while his every day stories are full of nature, simplicity, humor and pathos which have made Boz and Anderson household names throughout our country. A British writer has well remarked that the characteristics of his works "are a hearty, sincere appreciation and love of the poor in all its forms; a genial sympathy with its occupations, its joys and sorrows; a recognition of its dignity, and an earnest, reverent treatment of all its conditions."

The first volume contains three tales, the first of which is a bold description of the ravages of intemperance, that bane of villages in the old world as well as the new. The second story is a humorous account of the discomforts and disasters of an humble and industrious family by a sudden accession of wealth, and teaches the admirable moral of contentment with our lot in the world. The sketch of "Blind Rosa," is one of those simple and rapid narratives in which the delicate and tender characteristics of M. Conscience are peculiarly displayed. The second volume of the series, "Lion of Flanders," which the British press has well compared with the most striking portions of "Ivanhoe" and "The Heart of Mid-Lothian." The third, "Tales of Old Flanders;" "Count Hugo of Craenhove;" "Wooden Clara," and "The Village Innkeeper." The fourth will present another admirable romance in "Veva; or, the War of the Peasants,' and "The Conscript;" while the fifth will close the series with "The Miser," "Ricketicketack," and that excellent story of pathetic humor, "The Poor Gentleman.'

THE CATHOLIC BOOK BUSINESS IN THE U. S.-One of the gratifying evidences of the progress and increase of Catholicity is the constant increase of Catholic Booksellers throughout our vast country. It is but a few years since their number was very limited beyond the Publishers in our large cities, but now we find them springing up rapidly in all parts, and conducting their business with that degree of intelligence, energy and zeal that must insure success.

We have been led to these remarks by a recent letter shown us from the gentlemanly and efficient agent for the Metropolitan in New Orleans, Mr. Thomas O'Donnell, announcing that he had removed to a new and elegant store, enlarged his business, &c. It is but a few years ago since Mr. O'Donnell commenced his present business, with small means and limited experience. His success is an evidence of what perseverance and industry, combined with honesty and prudence, can accomplish even under the most disadvantageous circumstances. We wish him increased success, and congratulate the citizens of New Orleans, on having such a worthy gentleman engaged in the business in their city.

"It is really too bad, Mr. Oliver; here we are at the end of the month, with scarcely a single line of poety wherewith to treat our readers. Our poetical contributors have either become bankrupt or conspired against us with a full determination to starve us outright. It is too bad, Mr. Oliver; and if I had but the smallest portion of time at my disposal, I would write my own poetry, and would not be beholding to a single one of them."

"They are excusable, Mr. O'Moore, for if the old adage be true, they are unaccountable beings."

"Really, Mr. Oliver, this is too severe a rub," rejoined O'Moore, rising and making a circuit of the room. "Unaccountable beings! Mad, you mean, Mr. Oliver; you might as well use the plain English word. What a compliment! The Homers, the Virgils, the Miltons, the Byrons, and the Moores, were' a set of poor demented mortals! It is well for you, Mr. Oliver, that a few of those 'unaccountable beings' are not present to hear your comments, otherwise I fear it would be difficult for you to escape violence at their hands."

"Pardon me, Mr. O'Moore, I see you take the matter seriously. I assure you I meant no disrespect to the favored sons of the muse. I only alluded to an old proverb, for the truth of which I cannot vouch."

"No disrespect!" added O'Moore, ironically.

write a single stanza of poetry in your life?" "Once only," was the modest reply.

"And did you grow mad in the effort?"

"But tell, Mr. Oliver, did you ever

"If that be one of the usual effects of poetical inspiration, I confess I did."

"Then indeed, Mr. Oliver," said O'Moore with a smile, "I verily believe you have never entirely recovered from the fit."

This caused a hearty laugh in the company, in which Mr. Oliver himself joined with the utmost good humor.

"Well, come, let us see what our Table contains," said Father Carroll, who enjoyed the dialogue of his two colleagues. "Here is something in the shape of poetry," continued the Rev. gentleman, holding up a paper.

"Its title?" demanded O'Moore.

"How Sweet it is to Pray."

"That's something really that escaped my notice. Read a line or two of it, Father Carroll, that we may judge of its merit."

The Rev. gentleman then read as follows:

When the heartless world heeds thee not

In thy sorrows' lonely gloom,

When thy hopes, so fondly cherished, lie
In the dark, dreary tomb;

When the dear one thy heart so loved
Is gone for e'er away,

How sweet it is to turn to God

How sweet it is to pray!

"That's passable; let us have a little more of it," observed O'Moore at the conclu

sion of the above.

When freedom's gone from thy native hills,

When tyranny's foul hand

Defiles their sacred beauty-when

O'er thy loved stricken land

Slavedom's desolation weeps

The dreary hours away

When thou'rt a slave-in living death!

How sweet it is to pray!

"How long is the piece?" inquired O'Moore, interrupting the reading. "Only four closely written pages."

"Four pages! Then I am sure our readers have quite sufficient. The author should study metre, rhyme, harmony, yea, the whole art of poetry, before he again invokes the muse of song."

"Here is still another effusion-a selection," said Father Carroll, opening a neatly folded paper, which he read as follows:

THE HOMESTEAD.

It is not as it used to be,

When you and I were young;

When round each elm and maple tree
The honey-suckles clung;

But still I love the cottage where

I passed my early years,

Though not a single face is there
That memory endears.

It is not as it used to be!

The moss is on the roof,

And from their nests beneath the eaves,
The swallows keep aloof.

The robins-how they used to sing
When you and I were young;
And how did flit the wild bee's wing
The opening flowers among!

It is not now as it used to be!
The voices loved of yore,

And the forms we were wont to see,
We see and hear no more.

No more! Alas, we look in vain,

For those to whom we clung,

And love as we can love but once,

When you and I were young.

“Permit me, Mr. O'Moore, to offer the following selected verses. I am no poet, nor even a judge of poetry, but I think they will be found acceptable to our readers. They were written after witnessing the solemn and imposing ceremony of Confirmation." "Truly, then, Mr. Oliver, your judgment is better than your taste," replied O'Moore, after reading the verses. "Beautiful lines! and worthy of a place in our pages. This, Mr. Oliver, will atone for your severe criticism on poets.'

Tread softly through the sacred aisle,
And humbly join in prayer;

For 'tis a solemn hour to all
True Christians gathered there,

As meekly kneel a silent band

To share a right divine

And solemnly the prelate paused,

Who dealt the holy sign,

Ere on each bow'd and youthful head,
His consecrated hands he laid.

"Oh, Lord! defend thy servant now!"
The tones are in my ears;

They bring again the blessed thoughts,
The scenes of other years.

It comes again! a kneeling band-
A home-far distant now-

The pressure of a solemn hand

The mem'ry of a vow;

With thoughts of that now broken chain

Which earth may never link again.

"Oh, LORD! defend thy servant now!"
How fervent was the tone!
Urging that youthful throng to cling
With hope to CHRIST alone:
To leave a false, delusive world,
Its smiles and frowns to dare;
And as they owned the Holy Cross-
The cross indeed to bear-
For GoD alone, in mercy free
To us, must shield and shelter be.

Oh, LORD! the dew upon the flower,
The first fruits of the tree-
Youth, in its glorious morning hour,
Were they not offered thee?
The fervent prayer, the contrite tear,
Laid on thine altar's shrine,

Are they not cherished in thine eye?

Then, Saviour, with thy love divine,
Keep through thine own eternal grace,
That band who bow'd in holy place.

"The following, Mr. O'Moore, taken from an exchange, is a modern poet's views of what a prudent man should be; it contains more true philosophy," continued Father C., " than a volume of that which now passes under the name of poety:"

THE PRUDENT MAN.

Life's tenure warns the prudent man,
The path of virtue to pursue,
And keep the future still in view;

And, like a christian pilot, plan,
To reach that unseen, happy shore,
Where human ills are felt no more.

Hence, tho' temptation's wiles beset
His hours of labor, or of rest,
Of meekest tempers of the test,

He feels earth's trials must be met;
And joys he can't eschew a lot,
Which purity itself could not.

E'en on his couch he feels delight
To speed his orisons on high,
Like yonder tenant of the sky,

He sings his sweetest praise by night;
For flowers of prayer in heaven bloom,
When all else moulder in the tomb.

From ways he shrinks that lure to sin,
And shuns the first approach of crime,
Which rampant stalks ahead of time,

And hearkens to the voice within:
He knows this course, a few brief years,
Will death divest of many fears.

The more he finds earth's ways are vain,
And knows God's moral laws change not,
By some unheeded, nay-forgot,

The more he strives heaven's love to gain,
And, Friend, you know 'tis life to try,
To learn to be prepared to die.

CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON AND ST. CHARLES' COLLEGE.-We have hitherto failed to allude to the ably written and interesting Biographical Sketches, which have appeared in the present volume. To the learned and distinguished author we tender our grateful thanks; he has placed us as well as our readers under many obligations for the valuable services he has rendered in the cause of Catholic literature. The memoir of the illustrious Carroll of Carrollton, which we give in the present number, will be read with more than ordinary interest. If there be aught that we can add to give in