"Kathleen" is one of the most perfect and charming love stories ever published, tender, true and pathetic. Kathleen was a natural beauty, and made a decided impression on the heart of our hero long before she had learned the meaning of the word "Love." It was at a village on the coast of Maine, where she lived with her old grandmother, nine years before our story opens. Carl Seymour was an artist, and not rich when he met his love for the second time at Newport—met her to fall blindly at her feet, and worshipping her as all others did. But this second meeting was very different from the first; the old grandmother was dead, and Kathleen was chaperoned by a worldly-minded aunt, who had determined her niece should make a brilliant marriage. Carl Seymour proposed and was rejected. After three years of separation, in which time the aunt's money had taken wings. Kathleen reappears as the governess to Mrs. Armadale's children, a sister of Carl Seymour, in Mr. Seymour’s house. Is it any wonder then that Carl Seymour and Kathleen, being thrown together thus, should forget all their past troubles, and that their cloud, whicn looked so black to both, had at the last so bright a silver lining, but we must refer the reader to the book itself. "Kathleen" is written in Mrs. Burnett's best mood, and is very pathetic.