A story by the author of Vera would naturally give rise to great expectations among the lovers of good fiction; the more so as an interval of ten years has elapsed since that popular writer produced her last novel. In these days of rapid succession of events and inventions, either of the head or hand, it is no small compliment to the author that "Vera" should still be so 'freshly remembered;' but so long as Englishmen are Englishmen the story in which the fortunes of a Crimean hero are made with consummate skill to blend with those of a beautiful daughter of Russia, will hold its own, not only for this, but through many a succeeding generation. Wide as the poles asunder is the difference between the story of "Vera and that of the writer's latest work, "Ninette." In plot, situations, and character it would be difficult to conceive a greater contrast than that presented by the two novels. There is only one exception, the spot where the scene is laid, and which, to judge from the masterly description, the thorough knowledge of the country, with its agricultural resources and the habits of the people, has certainly not in vain been the residence of the writer for the last seventeen years. It is to this aspect of the Riviera that the reader's attention is directed-the study of the native character and humbler method of life pursued by the natural inhabitants of the Maritime Alps rather than to the gay, esoteric existence of the English and foreign society which frequent the fashionable resorts of Cannes and Nice. Dedications of books are seldom even looked at, much less studied; but in them, as in the second title of the book, there very often lies the clue to the succeeding pages-a clue, in the first instance, to the spirit in which they are composed, in the second to the subject they profess to treat.