A story deals with human nature and time.  All that is truly human is interesting, however abstractly stated; but it requires the mordant of specific circumstance, involving some historical period, to make it stain permanently.  Everything that belongs to Time, as his private property,—­everything temporary, using that word in its ordinary sense,—­is uninteresting, except so far as it serves to fix the colors of that humanity which we always love to contemplate.  The statuary, who cares nothing about Time, loves to drop his costuming, trumpery altogether.  The cheap story, written for the day, is dressed in all the fashionable articles that can be laid upon it, like the revolving lady in a shop window.  The real story, which alone outlives the modiste’s bonnets and shawls, may drape itself as it pleases; for it does not depend on its peplos, or stola, on its stomacher, or basque,—­or crinoline, for its effect.

“Parthenia” is a tale of the fourth century, but it tells the experience of lofty souls in all centuries.  The particular period chosen is one of the deepest interest,—­that of the conflict of expiring Paganism with growing Christianity, under Julian the Apostate.  Julian’s character, as drawn in the story, may be considered as a true historical study.  The “grand conservative of the fourth century,” as Mrs. Lee calls him, is painted as a violent and arbitrary man, but always sincere and noble in his delusions.  He never loses our respect, and we admire as often as pity him.  When people, professing to believe that a few sestertia invested in papyri and sent to their barbarian neighbors would be sure to save hundreds or thousands of fellow-creatures from an eternity of inconceivable agony, do, notwithstanding, expend great sums on “snow-white mules and golden harness,” to carry them to the Basilica, or on any other selfish gratification whatsoever, we cannot wonder that Julian, or anybody else, is ready to take up the pleasant “creed outworn” which Wordsworth half yearns after in his famous sonnet, as preferable to that base system of psychophagy prevailing in the church of Antioch.

Parthenia, the heroine of the story, is drawn with great power and feeling.  She comes before us at first with the classic charms of an Athenian beauty; she leaves us resplendent with the aureola of a Christian saint.  The change is gradually and naturally wrought; a Christian maid-servant wins her love and reverence, and her proud and restless heart finds peace in the simple faith taught by the little slave, Areta.

We cannot in this brief notice follow the incidents of the tale, which will be found full of interest.  A remarkably graceful style and a harmonious arrangement of scenery and incident make the chapters flow on like a series of gliding pictures.  The pleasure afforded by the beauty of the story will, perhaps, be enough for most readers; but those who read carefully will perceive that it furnishes matter for deep reflection to the student of history and of theology.