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 human traits, in view of which we are wise to discard nouns in favor of adjectives for identifying purposes, is furnished by Trollope's Lady Carbury. She is hypocritical in her wire-pulling intrigues, but not a hypocrite, for her pretenses are not utterly hollow; her sincerity is about on the average level, and her industry much above it. She is sentimentally foolish in her maternal devotion to a son who has no possible claim on toleration, much less on a patient and sacrificing indulgence, but not a fool, for her cleverness is indisputable. She is as tyrannic to her daughter as lenient to her son, but not a selfish egoist, for she refuses to take advantage of Mr. Broune's offer of marriage, especially tempting to her harassed soul, on the altruistic grounds that she and her family would be more of a burden than a comfort to Mr. Broune. She is not a vulgar snob, but her respect for aristocratic connections is not always marked by refinement of method in her pursuit of them. Much of all this is unconsciously betrayed in the series of three letters to editors and critics, bespeaking their good offices for her new book, Criminal Queens. The epistles are tactfully adjusted to their respective recipients. To Mr. Broune, of The Morning Breakfast Table, she is intimately confiding and begs frankly for a lift, while pointing out the attractive features of her volume:

"The sketch of Semiramis is at any rate spirited, though I had to twist it about a little to bring her in guilty. Cleopatra,