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Published on the first and fifteenth day of every month, by Cummings, Hilliard, & Co. No. 1 Cornhill, Boston.Terms, $5 per annum, payable in July. VOL. I.


Lionel Lincoln; or, The Leaguer of Boston.
In two Volumes. By the Author of the
Pioneers, Pilot, &c. New York. 1825.


BOSTON, MARCH 1, 1825.

No. 22.

bled of green fields, upon the strength of an experience which was limited to an area of an hundred feet, railed in with iron and surrounded by flag-stones. But a series of novels now implies a series of journeys. The descriptions of an hundred pages may cost the author a trip of as many miles. In short, in these critical days, whether the novelists deal with persons or things, they are compelled to paint from nature, instead of making new copies of bad pictures.

els, the reader, on the first introduction of a personage, was generally favoured with a minute account of his character, which indeed he could not often have learned by any other method; a part, by the way, which veteran devourers of novels were apt to skip, and most persons to forget before As the reading class of the community in- they had made much progress. Authors creases in numbers and in wealth, the de- at present avoid committing themselves mand for new works of imagination neces- in this way, and prefer leaving it to the sarily increases with it; and this has had the reader's ingenuity to discover the characeffect of bringing into the market many ar-ter of each, by his language and conduct. The faculty of giving to a story that ticles of home manufacture. The love of So that if the latter should happen to mis- dramatic interest, which arises from variety fame, which was balanced in the minds of take, in any instance, the design, his own of character, forcible delineation, and picmany by diffidence and fear of loss, has dullness may come in for a share of that turesque grouping, or, in other words, the derived new energies from the hope of blame, which, before, fell wholly upon the powers of observation, discrimination, and profit. Of the supply thus produced, a author's want of observation. One conse- description are possessed by Mr Cooper in considerable portion has been of inferior quence of this new method is, that, as the a very high degree; and it is with national quality. This might have been foreseen; characters are, or, at least, are intended pride and pleasure that we see these powers but it was also to be expected, that, as the to be drawn from real life, the story not employed upon supjects so worthy of them. competition continued, some minds would unfrequently is totally destitute of a regu-Brief as is the period since history first saw be called into action, of ability sufficient to lar, impeccable, and all-accomplished hero, our infant nation cradled in a howling wilcommand a share of the praise and profit or heroine. This is an evil of magnitude derness, she has found much to tell of deeds attending upon excellence in this popular to those who were brought up in the days of high emprize. She offers to the novelist pursuit; whose success would encourage when the Mortimers and Belvilles were in abundance of materials,-the harvest is rich themselves to go on and improve, and fashion. But these inimitable patterns of enough, and we rejoice to welcome labourers others to follow. square-toed perfection are now regarded as so worthy to gather it. We are glad to be very uninteresting fellows. We can on- able to greet an American author, in terms ly be pleased with the representation of of good hearty commendation, instead of that man, as nature made him, a being subject cautious and somewhat dubious praise, which to affections and passions, capable of good- we are too often called on to bestow upon ness and greatness, but variable and err-works, which, as honest Andrew Fairservice ing, whose thread is a mingled yarn, and observes, "are ower bad for blessing, and whose virtues and vices alternately ennoble ower gude for banning," without a good and debase him. deal of neutralizing qualification.

Such expectations have been justified by the result. We have had a considerable and rapidly increasing number of American authors. A large proportion of their works, it must be admitted, are but indifferent, when compared with those of their British prototypes. But some among them have been such as the critics, on either side of the Atlantic, have ventured to praise, and, what is to the author's purpose, the public delighted to read.

The natural or artificial objects, amid which the incidents occur, must likewise be delineated with that force of colouring, and minute accuracy of detail, which identify the particular scene of action, and for want of which, the same forests have frowned, and the same dungeons yawned for thousands of heroes to seek their recesses, and the same ruinous stair-ways and corridors echoed, while the self-moving clock struck one, to fright the souls of countless heroines.

The following is an outline of the story of the work before us. Lionel Lincoln, a native of Boston, becoming entitled, on the The taste of the novel-readers of this failure of male heirs in a direct line, to a age requires something very different from baronetcy and large estate in England, the delicate distresses and complicated stosails for that country, for the purpose of ries, with their machinery of trap-doors taking possession. He leaves behind him and dark-lanterns, which puzzled the brains his wife and infant, in the care of his aunt and harrowed up the souls of more romanand godmother, Mrs Lechmere. In the tic generations. We are not disappointed, same house is a young woman, whom he if the plot is something less than inscrutahad seduced, previous to his marriage, and ble to any but the reader of the five last by whom he had also a son. On his return, pages, nor dissatified, if the incidents are This requisition imposes upon modern he finds his wife dead, and, what is worse, neither very crowded nor very improbable. authors the necessity of actually seeing he is informed by his aunt, that she had The character of the novels of the present day the places, which they intend to describe. been unfaithful, and this information is conis more closely allied to that of the drama, in Their predecessors could travel in their gar- firmed by the oath of the young woman the course of which characters, imaginary in- rets, as the impudent fabricator of the ad- abovementioned, Abigail Pray. The modeed in that situation, make their entrances ventures of Damberger did through the tive of the former in fabricating this story, and exits, and play their parts in accord- centre of Africa, describing successive for it proves to be unfounded, was, by dimin ance with motives and passions, which have hordes of Boshmen, as identical as so many ishing his sorrow for the loss of his wife, to a real existence in the human heart. The troops of buffaloes, and successive kraals render him more susceptible of the charms author has only to invent, or, if he pleases, of Hottentots, which, like the bee-hive and of her daughter, whom she was ambitious of to borrow the outlines of a story, which the bird's nest, evinced the unerring na- beholding as the lady of a baronet, and the shall place his actors in circumstances fa- ture of the instinct of their framers. With head of the house of Lincoln. The latter, vourable to the powerful development of just so much knowledge of sunshine, as they on her part, hoped to regain her former their particular ruling passions, and to make could obtain through the medium of the hold on his affections, and become Lady them speak and act, in such situations, con- smoke of a metropolis, they dwelt for pages Lincoln herself. Both seem to have forsistently and naturally. In the older nov- upon the glories of an Italian sky, and bab-gotten the proverbial thanklessness of the


office of a bearer of ill-news, and both expe- | rienced the correctness of the adage. Instead of restoring Lincoln's cheerfulness, they unsettled his reason; and, after various adventures, he becomes the tenant of a private madhouse in England. After the lapse of some years, his legitimate son, Lionel, goes thither, becomes an officer in the British service, and returns to Boston, a short time previous to the commencement of the revolutionary war, accompanied by his father, who had contrived to escape from his confinement. He is unknown, however, to his son, who has not seen him for fifteen years. His lunacy, it may be observed, is of a partial kind, and is not suspected, being principally shown by an extravagant zeal for liberty, which was not likely to be considered madness in Boston fifty years ago. The work opens with the arrival of their vessel, and a description of the town and harbour, the former occupied by a military garrison, and deprived of its commercial bustle, by the well known closure of the port, in consequence of the refractory disposition of its inhabitants. From this description we shall

make our first extract.

witted! Mercy on poor Job! Oh! you make his
flesh creep!'

I'll cut the heart from the mutinous knave, in-
terrupted a hoarse, angry voice; 'to refuse to drink
the health of his majesty!"

Job does wish him good health-Job loves the king, only Job don't love rum.'

The officer had approached so nigh as to perceive that the whole scene was one of disorder and abuse, and pushing aside the crowd of excited and dericing soldiers, who composed the throng, he broke at once into the centre of the circle.

This half-witted Job is rescued from the soldiers by Major Lincoln, and proves, in the sequel, to be the son of the baronet by Abigail Pray. He conducts them both to the well known triangular warehouse in Dock Square, then useless, of course, for its original purpose, and serving as a city of refuge for his wretched mother. She testifies some alarm at the sound of the baronet's voice, but does not recognise him, and he takes up his abode without ceremony in the warehouse. Major Lincoln is conducted to the house of Mrs Lechmere, in Tremont Street, the same that is now standing, and celebrated as the residence of Sir Henry Vane nearly two centuries ago. Here he is introduced to the princiThe rounded heights of Dorchester were radiant pal females of the story, Cecil Dynevor, with the rays of the luminary, that had just sunk the grandchild of Mrs Lechmere, and behind their crest, and streaks of paler light were Agnes Danforth, her cousin; the latter a playing along the waters, and gilding the green summits of the islands, which clustered across the bitter whig, who regards him, of course, with some coolness. mouth of the estuary. Far in the distance were After a reasonable to be seen the tall spires of the churches, rising out interim, he falls in love with Cecil, and acof the deep shadows of the town, with their vanes companies the troops on their disastrous glittering in the sun-beams, while a few rays of expedition to Concord. He is also present strong light were dancing about the black beacon, at the battle of Bunker Hill, where he rewhich reared itself high above the conical peak that took its name from the circumstance of sup-ceives a wound which confines him to his His love is no way porting this instrument of alarms. Several large bed for many months. vessels were anchored among the islands and be- diminished by the attentions of Cecil, durfore the town, their dark hulls, at each moment, ing this period, and his marriage follows becoming less distinct through the haze of evening, hard upon his recovery. It is attended while the summits of their long lines of masts were yet glowing with the marks of day. From each of with disastrous omens, and their return these sullen ships, from the low fortification which from church precedes the death of Mrs rose above a small island deep in the bay, and from Lechmere, who has likewise been ill for various elevations in the town itself, the broad, silky some time, but a few minutes. The scene folds of the flag of England were yet waving in the at her death-bed, at which the baronet sudcurrents of the passing air. The young man was suddenly aroused from gazing at this scene, by the denly appears, works upon the nerves of quick reports of the evening guns, and while his Major Lincoln, and he is persuaded, in the eyes were yet tracing the descent of the proud fever of the moment and for a purpose symbols of the British power, from their respective which we have not room to explain, to acplaces of display, he felt his arm convulsively company the maniac to the other side of pressed by the hand of his aged fellow-passenger." the river, where he is taken prisoner by the The passengers were hardly landed on Americans, and where we shall leave him the wharf, when they are introduced to the for the present and return to Tremont knowledge of a person who makes a prin- Street. Here the bride, thus unaccountacipal figure in these volumes, in the follow-bly deserted by her husband, is in a state to ing spirited and highly dramatic manner. be easier imagined than described. She The reply of the youth was interrupted by sudden and violent shrieks, that burst rudely on the stillness of the place, chilling the very blood of those who heard them, with their piteousness. The quick and severe blows of a lash were blended with the exclamations of the sufferer, and rude oaths, with hoarse execrations, from various voices, were united in the uproar, which appeared to be at no great distance. By a common impulse, the whole party broke away from the spot, and moved rapidly up the wharf in the direction of the sounds. As they approached the buildings, a group was seen collected around the man who thus broke the charm of evening by his cries, interrupting his wailings with their ribaldry, and encouraging his tormentors to proceed.

Mercy, mercy, for the sake of the blessed God, have mercy, and don't kill Job!' again shrieked the sufferer; Job will run your a'r'rds! Job is half

is encouraged to follow him, by the ar-
rival of the keeper of the baronet, who
had made a voyage to America in pursuit

of him.

They pass over to the American camp, and find Major Lincoln at Washington's quarters. By the assistance of the baronet, who is in high favour with the Americans, he is enabled to escape, and, after some difficulties, they again arrive in Boston, and proceed to the warehouse, then occupied by Abigail Pray, her ideot son, who is dying with the small-pox, and a friend of Major Lincoln. The death of Job is followed by his mother's repentant confession of her former perjury, thereby exciting the fury of the maniac to a degree

which would have been fatal to her, but for the sudden appearance of the keeper abovementioned, who is immediately attacked, thrown down, and nearly strangled by the baronet, from whom he can only exticate himself by repeated stabs. He escapes, his antagonist dies in a few moments, and the story closes with the departure of Lionel and Cecil for England, and the evacuation of Boston by the British.


Beside the characters principally concerned in the conduct of the main action, there are various accessories, who are by no means the least interesting. Dennis M'Fuse, an Irish grenadier officer, and Peter Polwarth, a corpulent captain, stand in the front rank among these; and with respect to the former we only regret that the author should have found it necessary to kill him, in the first volWe think the character of M'Fuse, and that of Seth Sage, the Yankee landlord, among the author's happiest efforts. That of Polwarth, though on the whole very well executed, is sometimes, to use a word from the Captain's own vocabulary, a little "overdone." This excess of colouring is indeed one of Mr Cooper's faults, but it is one that experience will mend, and is very different in that particular, from its opposite, tameness. In fact, he has been thus improving in each successive work; there is less caricature in the one before us, than in the preceding. We are enabled, in a single extract, to give a specimen of the three characters abovementioned, as well as of the spirit with which the dialogue

of the work is conducted.

M'Fuse was seated at a table, with a ludicrous air of magisterial authority, while Polwarth held a station at his side, which appeared to partake of the double duties of a judge and a scribe. Before this formidable tribunal Seth Sage was arraigned, as it would seem, to answer for certain offences alleged to have been committed in the field of battle. Ig norant that his landlord had not received the benefit of the late exchange, and curious to know what all the suppressed roguery he could detect in the demure countenances of his friends might signify, Lionel dropped his pen, and listened to the succeeding dialogue.

Now answer to your offences, thou silly fellow, with a wise name,' M'Fuse commenced, in a voice that did not fail, by its harsh cadences, to create some of that awe, which, by the expression of the speaker's eye, it would seem he laboured to prothe compunctions of a Christian, if you have them. Why should I not send you at once to Ireland, that ye may get your deserts on three pieces of timber, the one being laid cross-wise for the sake of conve nience. If you have a contrary reason, bestow it angular daiformities.' without delay, for the love you bear your own

duce-speak out with the freedom of a man, and

The wags did not altogether fail in their object, Seth betraying a good deal more uneasiness than it was usual for the man to exhibit even in situations of uncommon peril. After clearing his throat, and looking about him, to gather from the eyes of the spectators which way their sympathies inclined, he answered with a very commendable fortitude

'Because it's ag'in all law.'

Have done with your interminable perplexities of the law,' cried M'Fuse, and do not bother honest gentlemen with its knavery, as if they were no more than so many proctors in big wigs! 'tis the gospel you should be thinking of, you godless reprobate, on account of that final end you will yet make, one day, in a most indecent hurry.'

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To your purpose, Mac,' interrupted Polwarth, is well to devote to an unfortunate being who perceived that the erratic feelings of his friend of that description. His appearance, were beginning already to lead him from the desired when assaulted by the grenadiers, in point; or I will propound the matter myself, in a the second volume, is highly dramatic, style that would do credit to a mandainus counbut we hope the conduct of the grenasellor.' diers themselves on that occasion has little foundation in nature. The original of this character we suppose to have been an ideot, who went by the singular name of Johnny Yanks, and who was shot by the British troops on their return from Concord, as he stood, waving his hat in triumph, on a stone wall.

The mandamuses are all ag'in the charter, and the law too,' continued Seth, whose courage increased as the dialogue bore more directly upon his political principles--and to my mind it's quite convincing that if ministers calculate largely on upholding them, there will be great disturbances, if not a proper fight in the land; for the whole country is in a blaze!'

Disturbances, thou immovable iniquity; thou quiet assassin!' roared M'Fuse; 'do ye call a fight of a day a disturbance, or do ye tar'm skulking behind fences, and laying the muzzle of a musket on the head of Job Pray, and the breech on a mullen-stalk, while ye draw upon a fellow-creature, a commendable method of fighting! Now answer me to the truth, and disdain all lying, as ye would 'ating any thing but cod on a Saturday, who were the two men that fred into my very countenance, from the unfortunate situation among the mullens that I have detailed to you?"

Pardon me, captain M'Fuse,' said Polwarth, if I say that your zeal and indignation run ahead of your discretion. If we alarm the prisoner in this manner, we may defeat the ends of justice. Besides, sir, there is a reflection contained in your language, to which I must dissent. A real dumb is not to be despised, especially when served up in a wrapper, and between two coarser fish to preserve the steam-curred. I have had my private meditations on the subject of getting up a Saturday's club, in order to enjoy the bounty of the Bay, and for improving the cookery

of the cod!'

'And let me tell you, captain Polwarth,' returned the grenadier, cocking his eye fiercely at the other. that your epicurean propensities lead you to the verge of cannibalism; for sure it may be called that, when you speak of 'ating while the life of a fellow cr'ature is under a discussion for its termination-'

'I conclude,' interrupted Seth, who was greatly averse to all quarreling, and who thought he saw the symptoms of a breach between his judges, 'the captain wishes to know who the two men were that fired on him a short time before he got the hit in

the shoulder?'

A short time, ye marvellous hypocrite!-'twas as quick as a pop and slap could make it.' Perhaps there might be some mistake, for a great many of the troops were much disguised-'

Do ye insinuate that I got drunk before the enemies of my king!' roared the grenadier-Harkye, Mister Sage, I ask you in a genteel way, who the two men were that fired on me, in the manner datailed, and remember that a man may tire of putting questions which are never answered!'

Why,' returned Seth, who, however expert at prevarication, eschewed, with religious horror, a direct lie-I pretty much conclude that they-the captain is sure the place he means was just beyond Menotomy?'

'As sure as men can be,' said Polwarth, who possess the use of their eyes.'

Then captain Polwarth can give testimony to

the fact?"

I believe Major Lincoln's horse carries a small bit of your lead to this moment, Master Sage.' Seth yielded to this accumulation of evidence against him, and knowing, moreover, that the grenadier had literally made him a prisoner in the fact of renewing his fire, he sagaciously determined to make a merit of necessity, and candidly to acknowledse his agency in inflicting the wounds. The utmost, however, that his cautious habits would per'Seeing there can't well be any mistake, I seem to think, the two men were chiefly Job and I'

mit him to say, was

The character of Job Pray is well supported, though, in our opinion, he occupies rather a larger share in the work, than it

cipitated the war. It was the major of marines,* who sat looking at the sight, for a minute, with an eye as vacant as the one that seemed to throw back buried his rowels in the flanks of his horse, and his wild gaze, and then rousing from his trance, he disappeared in the smoke that enveloped a body of the grenadiers, waving his sword on high, and shouting

'On-push on with the advance!'

The third, and the successful attack of the troops upon the defences of Bunker Hill is thus described.

Lionel had taken post in his regiment, but marchview of most of the scene of battle. In his front ing on the skirt of the column, he commanded a moved a battalion, reduced to a handful of men in the previous assaults. Behind these came a party of the marine guards, from the shipping, led by their own veteran Major; and next followed the Lionel looked in vain for the features of the gooddejected Nesbitt and his corps, amongst whom natured Polwarth. Similar columns marched on their right and left, encirling three sides of the redoubt by their battalions.

A strong column was now seen ascending, as if from out the burning town, and the advance of the whole became quick and spirited. A low call ran through the platoons, to note the naked weapons of their adversaries, and it was followed by the cry of To the bayonet! to the bayonet!'

The peculiar state of the country and the feelings of the colonists; the night-march of the troops to Lexington and their disastrous retreat; the battle and storm of the Bunker Hill redoubt; and the circumstances of a besieged town, are all described with force, feeling, and spirit. In short, Mr Cooper has selected, in this instance, a period and a subject replete with interest, and has done great justice to both. A few minutes brought him in full view of that The following extract is from the ac- session of which so much blood had that day been humble and unfinished mound of earth, for the poscount of the retreat from Concord. spilt in vain. It lay, as before, still as if none 'On-on with the advance!' cried fifty voices breathed within its bosom, though a terrific row of out of the cloud of smoke and dust that was mov- dark tubes were arrayed along its top, following the ing up the hill, on whose side this encounter oc- movements of the approaching columns, as the eyes of the imaginary charmers of our own wilderIn this manner the war continued to roll slowly ness are said to watch their victims. As the uproar onward, following the weary and heavy footsteps of the artillery again grew fainter, the crash of fallof the soldiery, who had now toiled for many miles, ing streets, and the appalling sounds of the conflasurrounded by the din of battle, and leaving in their gration, on their left, became more audible. Im path the bloody impressions of their footsteps. mense volumes of black smoke issued from the Lionel was enabled to trace their route, far towards smouldering ruins, and bellying outward, fold bethe north, by the bright red spots, which lay scat-yond fold, it overhung the work in a hideous cloud, tered in alarming numbers along the highway, and casting its gloomy shadow across the place of in the fields through which the troops occasionally blood. moved. He even found time, in the intervals of rest, to note the difference in the characters of the combatants. Whenever the ground or the circumstances admitted of a regular attack, the dying confidence of the troops would seem restored, and they moved up to the charge with the bold carriage which high discipline inspires, rending the air with shouts, while their enemies melted before their power in sullen silence, never ceasing to use their weapons however, with an expertness that rendered them doubly dangerous. The direction of the columns frequently brought the troops over ground that had been sharply contested in front, and the victims of these short struggles came un der the eyes of the detachment. It was necessary to turn a deaf ear to the cries and prayers of many wounded soldiers, who, with horror and abject fear written on every feature of their countenances, were the helpless witnesses of the retreating files of their comrades. On the other hand, the American lay in his blood, regarding the passing appeared to look far beyond his individual suffering. detachment with a stern and indignant eye, that Over one body, Lionel pulled the reins of his horse, and he paused a moment to consider the spectacle. It was the lifeless form of a man, whose white locks, hollow cheeks, and emaciated frame, denoted that the bullet which had stricken him to the earth had anticipated the irresistible decrees of time but a very few days. He had fallen on his back, and his glazed eye expressed, even in death, the honest resentment he had felt while living; and his palsied hand continued to grasp the fire-lock, old and time-worn, like its owner, with which he had taken the field in behalf of his country. champions to its aid!' exclaimed Lionel, observing that the shadow of another spectator fell across the

Where can a contest end which calls such

wan features of the dead-who can tell where
this torrent of blood can be stayed, or how many
are to be its victims!'

covered that he had unwittingly put this searching
Receiving no answer, he raised his eyes, and dis-
question to the very man whose rashness had pre-

'Hurrah! for the Royal Irish!' shouted M'Fuse, at the head of the dark column from the conflagration.

'Hurrah!' echoed a well-known voice from the

silent mound: 'let them come on to Breed's; the people will teach 'em the law!'

Men think at such moments with the rapidity of lightning, and Lionel had even fancied his comrades in possession of the work, when the terrible stream of fire flashed in the faces of the men in front.

Push on with the th,' cried the veteran Major of Marines- push on, or 18th will get the honour of the day!"

'We cannot,' murmured the soldiers of the -th; their fire is too heavy!

• Then break, and let the marines pass through you!'

The feeble battalion melted away, and the warriors of the deep, trained to conflicts of hand to hand, sprang forward, with a loud shout, in their places. The Americans, exhausted of their ammunition, now sunk sullenly back, a few hurling stones at their foes, in desperate indignation. The cannon of the British had been brought to enfilade their short breast-work, which was no longer tenable; and as the columns approached closer to the low rampart, it became a mutual protection to the adverse parties.

M'Fuse, rushing up to the trifling ascent, which Hurrah! for the Royal Irish! again shouted was but of little more than his own height.

'Hurrah!' repeated Pitcairn, waving his sword on another angle of the work the day's our


One more sheet of flame issued out of the bosom * Pitcairn.


of the work, and all those brave men, who had emulated the examples of their officers, were swept away, as though a whirlwind had passed along The grenadier gave his war-cry once more before he pitched headlong among his enemies; while Pitcairn fell back into the arms of his own child. The cry of forward, 47th,' rung through their ranks, and in their turn this veteran battalion gallantly mounted the ramparts. In the shallow ditch Lionel passed the dying marine, and caught the dying and despairing look from his eyes, and in another instant he found himself in the presence of his foes. As company followed company into the defenceless redoubt, the Americans sullenly retired by its rear, keeping the bayonets of the soldiers at bay with clubbed muskets and sinewy arms. When the whole issued upon the open ground, the husbandmen received a close and fatal fire from the battalions which were now gathering around them on three sides. A scene of wild and savage confusion then succeeded to the order of the fight, and many fatal blows were given and taken, the mêlée rendering the use of fire-arms nearly impossible for several


But in no place, as has been demonstrated in the Pilot, is Mr Cooper so much at home, as among the sons of Neptune. The young midshipman, though present but for a few pages, is distinguished by those master ly touches, which mark the favourite subject of an artist. The execution of the va rious characters is of course unequal. That of Burgoyne particularly, we regard as a


We had marked several faults of minor importance in the course of two several perusals of this work; they are principally however of a kind, which has been noticed in various criticisms of his preceding works. We are, morever, glad to avail ourselves of the excuse afforded us by the consideration of the space already occupied by this article to omit this disagreeable part of our office. We trust that our readers will find the extracts from this work sufficiently interesting to compensate the omission of the strictures, whose place they have anticipated. It remains for us only to say a few words of the relative merits of this, when compared with the former works of the same author. Considered as a work of genius it is perhaps superior to the Spy, and inferior to the Pioneers or the Pilot, while in point of literary execution it excels them all; and if it shall be decided to be less interesting on the whole than the two latter, it must be admitted that it contains fewer parts that are absolutely tedious, and fewer offences against good taste. We hope he may find, in the remaining provinces, subjects as good as that afforded by the " Bay Colony," and we have no doubt he will use them to as good purpose.

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with Coleridge's pet phrase, "the reading | babble about them quite too much. They
public." We cannot speak of one of them claim to be exquisitely alive to beauty of
without speaking of all; and their peculiari- all kinds, and rave about things sweet and
ties, with the space they fill in modern litera- lovely without stint; but their devotion to
the tender and pretty is not true to nature,
ture, make them worthy of some notice.
All tale-makers by profession, must love or rather it belongs to a poor, weakly,
the marvellous; but the authors of these sickened nature; moreover the beauty
works differ from their fellow-wanderers in which they do affect, is not of the purest
the land of fiction, in the character of this and noblest kind; they would think the
propensity. They seek the marvellous Medicean Venus improved by putting a
earnestly, obstinately; but they seek that delicate peach bloom upon her check, and
which is strange in sentiment and passion, a rosebud to her nose, and dropping her,
and not in circumstance and incident; they eyelids with an expression of melancholy
affect the wonders of the world within, and tenderness. So, too, their language is for
busy themselves far less with external things. the most part quaint and affected; they
Love is in their works, as in all others of the seek for obsolete words and idioms, and
imagination, a master passion, and all or al- have pet phrases, and are a little apt to
most all the interest of the tale is connected write as if an accumulation of strange and
with it; but they speak almost exclusively affected expressions was fine writing of the
of the workings of this passion, of the forms most original character. Nevertheless large
it assumes, the thoughts and feelings which parts of many of their works are eminently
grow out of it, and its growth, and progress, interesting and eloquent. The reason of
and power in the heart. But little effort is this is, that some of these authors have
employed to make the events which occa- minds of quite a superior order, and work
sion it, or disturb or prosper it, interesting, hard in their vocation; and every thing
in themselves. The story is important only which bears the distinct impress of a strong
as it is the foundation for the descriptions. and original intellect, must be interesting.
In this respect they may not seem to differ But the efforts of these master minds might,
from all the best modern novels; but in the as we think, have been made more produc-
Waverley novels-to take them as an in- tive of pleasure and profit to their readers
stance the descriptions are, and are in- and to themselves; we have always believed
tended to be, of exciting and natural that the popularity which these books at-
character. The power of the author of tained, was excessive, and could not be
these tales, is manifested in the truth and permanent
force with which he portrays, not merely The "Human Heart" seems to us just
possible, but probable passions, and shows about equal in its literary merits to the
them in their effects. His best characters average of its class. It contains eight tales,
are singular from their strength or peculiar most of which are abundantly old. For
traits; but they are all such as the circum instance, the second story relates the in-
stances in which they live and which have famous brutality of Colonel Kirk, who se
formed them, may well make of human be- duced the sister of a prisoner by the promise
ings. But the writers of the works which of pardon for her brother, and showed to her
form that class to which the book now un- the corpse of that brother, hanging from
der notice belongs, make their heroes and the gallows, when she had fulfilled her ex-
heroines love and hate, and hope and fear, torted promise. But the last tale is the
and enjoy and suffer excessively, that is, far most singular, and to us the most interest-
beyond the occasion. Scott makes his peo-ing. It is founded upon, or rather suggested
ple act out their feelings; but these writers by the following passage of an old book.
make theirs talk about them. To close this
contrast, we should say, that Scott seeks for haunted by a most strange phantom, the presence
'I once did heare of a great foreign lord, who was
that which is striking in the true and prob- of which was so dreadful, that it drove him for the
able, and endeavours to paint it truly and time to madnesse. Some folke would say that the
forcibly; while these writers aim at describ-nobleman did only see himself, or that his conscience
ing eloquently state sof the mind and heart
which are uncommon, and indicate extra-
ordinary intellectual and moral constitu-
tions, and owe most of their interest to their

The Young Man's Looking-Glasse.'

did appear before his eyes in a human shape. the words of the learned Master Burton, to bethink Therefore, young men, I would admonish ye, in yourselves, that "after many pleasant daies, and fortunate adventures, and merry tides, this conscience doth not at last arrest us.-As the prodigal Their great want is of truth and simplicity;pany, jovial entertainment, but a cruel reckoning in son had dainty fare, sweet music, at first, merry com and yet they suppose, or affect to suppose, the end, as bitter as wormwood."' that they are true to nature and simple as are delighted with natural objects altogether children. They love external nature, and beyond measure. We do not doubt, that in the love and pleasure which they so vehemently and perpetually express, there is much sincerity; but we give them credit for mingling with it a sufficiency of affectation. Rainbows and flowers are beautiful, but they are fleeting things, and the joy I had been ill almost unto death. I awoke into which their presence may give is hardly consciousness many long, weary hours before I worth living for altogether; and though could speak, and I saw about my bed many pleasgreen fields are fair to look upon, one maying forms; I could just distinguish that their gar

fierce and stern emotion, and strong deIt exhibits rather more endeavour after scription, than is usual with writers of this class; but it will serve reasonably well to illustrate the characteristics of this book and its brethren; and as it may also amuse our readers, we shall make a long extract

from it.

was then strikingly handsome, though I was always too proud to be vain. I soon found that my alliance was courted by many of my roble countrymen, but I never had a thought of marrying, till I beheld a young foreigner, an English maiden of high rank, who had come to Naples for the recovery of her health. I beheld her for the first time sitting in one of the marble porticoes of my own palace, and my heart whispered to me with a tumultuous enthusiasm, that she should become the mistress of the abode she thus graced with her presence The Lady Gertrude L had accompanied her father and some Italian noblemen to see a celebrated picture by Correggio, then in my passession. She had been rather fatigued in ascending the beautiful eminence on which my palace stood, and had sat down in a portico overlooking the glorious Bay. I had never beheld so lovely a being. As I gazed upon her, I could almost have persuaded myself that she was some perfect statue of Parian marble; her delicately slender form--her white garments, flowing over the marble pavement--her fair hands, clasped together and resting on her knees--her pale sweet face, bending downward as if she had been lost in some pleasing day-dream. But there needed not the deep dark blue of her eyes, the wavy hair, many shades darker than that which is called light brown; there needed not the pale rosecolour of her parted lips, to tell me that I beheld no statue. I saw those eyes turned with the full gaze of their soft lustre on me--I saw the rich, eloquent blood flushing her cheek and lip as she spoke to me--I heard the voice which gave new sweetness to the musical accents of my own sweetest language. The Lady Gertrude was not displeased with the attentions which, from the first moment of our meeting, I never ceased to pay to her.

ments were those of some religious order. One of my shoulders, and the face that was moine, yet not them, whose countenance was very mild, whose my own, close to my face; and if, by chance, I voice was like gentle music, would sometimes stand stood alone in the midst of some brilliant saloon, and gaze upon me, or touch my burning hands with the phanton would approach me and link his arm her soft, cool ingers. She was the superior of the within mine, and look round at the company, and sisterhood, and had lived since her youth (a period then point its finger in my face, and say, 'They are of thirty years) within that convent. They quitted all staring at us." Such a reality was attached to the room, and for the first time the phantom ap- his presence, that I could never for the time perpeared. He stood beside the bed in my own form. suade myself we were not observed.--I fled to Ill and pale he seemed, but the working of a stronger solitude--the phantom went with ine. Once, when, power than sickness was seen upon his face. He walking on the shore of the Mediterranean, far from sat down on the bed close to me. I had no fear of any abode of man, with a broad barren heath on one him at first, but I shrunk away rather in anger than side of me, and the boundless ocean on the other, I affright-I was then in a strangely confused state. perceived a little boat rocking to and fro on the I fell into a heavy sleep, but a low, distinct voice calm waves; two men were in it, and struck, I supsoon awoke me, and I beheld the same figure sitting pose, by the richness of my dress, they landed, and beside me. As my eyes opened, he drew closer attempted to rob me. I slew them both; and, and bent down his face over mine. I started up, scarcely knowing what I did, leaped into the empty but the face was still close to mine; and when, ex- boat, and, raising the little sail, put out to sea. I hausted with the effort, I dropped back on the bed, sailed on, far from the sight of any shore, and began, it was bent over me, just as before. I raised my to hope that I should die upon the wide desolate hand to thrust it away, but the phantom face could waste of waters. I saw with delight the dark clouds not be thrust away-it was even as the thin air. I gathering in heaps about the horizon, to the windshut my eyes, but then I felt a damp and icy breath- ward-I saw them spread over the whole sky. The ing all over my face. I resisted no longer; a voice, sea rose in mountains beneath me, or dashed the in every tone my own voice, spake to me from lips little boat into chasms of black and horrible depth. that seemed also mine. I cannot remember the The lightning rushed in streams of pale and forked multitude of words which were poured out in cease-fire from above; the thunder crackled, and roared less confusion into my ears, till my every sense was in peals, which I thought would split the world maddened--nay, till at last I lay wholly stunned around me: but the death I longed for was not and senseless. Sometimes the voice was loud with nigh. The storm cleared away, and the little bark rage--sometimes the phantom placed its hand upon floated calmly upon the quiet waters. I began to my shoulders, and bent its face so close to mine, think that the phantom had quitted me, but all sudthat I could feel it draw up the breath from my denly I beheld a hand clasped about the side of the lungs, and stop their motion; and then it whispered boat, and then the phantom climbed up leisurely its low deep curses, till my heart felt blistered by into it, and sat down beside me. For days we them:-sometimes the mouth would open widely, drifted about upon the waveless sea, with a sky of and a loud and insulting laugh came pealing and dark and cloudless blue above us; the phantom all Not many months had passed away, when I berattling down the throat, till I raved with fury- the time sitting in silence beside me, with his eyes held the gentle lady sitting again under that marble then again the countenance would become calm, fixed on me-never turned from me. At last his portico which looked over the Bay of Naples; and and beam all over with smiles, and sweet gentle presence was so insupportable that I sprang over- I heard her whisper to me, that I was the dearest tones would scarce part the lips; but every word board. I was not drowned-I know not how it was, object of her affections on earth. I kissed her pure that was spoken would be to describe some shame- but the boat came again between me and the waters; lips, for she was my wife, in answer to her expressless event of my infamous life; and then, if my rage and the phantom, clasping the side, climbed in, and ions of the tenderest affection that woman ever burst out, the face would smile, the voice whisper sat down by me. He broke silence then, and said, felt.-And was it possible, you will say, that I even more calmly-calmly-calmly-ay, till the Despair, but not death! As he spoke, I felt the could be happy? I was not happy; but since my smile became a sneer, a cold, bitter, heartless sneer. whole face of the sea sinking under me, and with return to Italy, I had seldom seen the phantom. He When I awoke again, I almost expected to see the sinking of the smooth shining waters, the boat had not left me, but I had almost begun to believe the face that seemed mine, but was not my own, sank also lower and lower, deeper and deeper it that I had been the victim of some mental delirium, bent over me. It was not there, but night had sank, till, at a great distance, a ridge of black rocks and that the being I so dreaded had no actual exiscome on, and the pale silvery ruoonshine streamed was gradually revealed, enclosing the waters on all tence. He had only absented himself, to bring into my chamber. Some kind hand had opened the sides. The boat itself sank not an inch in the sea, more poignant agony on his return. One evening lattice, and placed on its sill a vase full of orange- but the waters continued slowly sinking, till the my wife had retired to rest at an early hour, owing flowers: the fresh cool air bathed all my heated dark rocks had risen like the Alps around us; nay, to the still delicate state of her health. I sat down face, and brought with it the pure fragrance of the even till I could look up, as from the bottom of a near the open lattice of her chamber, and having flowers. All was silent around me, till, with a narrow well, and see the stars glittering as at mid-seen her sink into a gentle sleep, I took up a volgradual swell, a sweet and solemn music rose from night. The phantom laughed at the consternation ume of Ariosto, and I began to read. I had read the organ of the chapel, and the clear liquid voices I betrayed.Hell is deeper!' he shouted loudly; but for a few minutes, when a voice spoke to me of the nuns blended into a rich stream of harmony. and his laugh and his words were echoed over and loudly. I looked up, and beheld the form that was I felt too calm, too happy, and with restless fear I over again from the black and stupendous rocks mine, and yet not my own, standing erect before rose up-I looked round the chamber-the face was which enclosed us. I knew nothing more, till I me with an attitude and look of insolent defiance: nowhere to be seen. I laid down my head, and a found myself lying amid the shattered planks of the Come with me, I need your presence,' he ex shower of tears gushed from my eyes. My senses boat upon the shore of a foreign land. I started up, claimed, still more loudly; and I looked up to him were soothed, but my soul was not The voice that for a person was lying close beside me. I was for with my finger on my lips, pointing at the same was mine, and yet not my own, spake as a friend the moment all bewildered, but the person lying at time with the other hand to the bed on which my speaks who is fearful to disturb one: I am here,' my feet stretched his limbs, as one awaking from a wife lay sleeping Oh! do not fear,' replied the it said; you shall not miss me long.' * * heavy slumber, and yawning, as he slowly thrust phantom, in a voice even louder than before, I I left the convent when I was strong enough to away the thick long hair, which had fallen over his shall not disturb her-you know that I do not indepart yet my illness had greatly changed me. eyes, he looked full in my face and said. I cannot trude on any other but yourself. We are one,' My former health seemed gone, I was an altered sleep:-I recognized at once the voice, the face. he adde, as, unable to resist his commands, I folman, and some said that I was mad I was not which were mine, yet not my own. lowed him from the room. He led me on in silence, mad-but the sins of my former life had taken Again I returned to society, but not to the profli- and we had scarcely passed through the wood of fast hold on me. The phantom was with me at all gate companions with whom I had before associated. myrtles behind my palace, when I found myself on hours, though invisible to every eye but mine: II was still little changed at neart, but I threw the veil the road from Berlin to the village of Pankow.* was never at rest, for during his absence my exis- of decorum over my public conduct. I furnished The phantom was at my side, but, horror-struck at tence soon became one agonizing dread of his ap- my long-deserted palace at Naples with simple perceiving whither he was leading me, I stopped pearance He would bring before me, with minute magnificence I hung the walls with the finest pic- and stood still, resolutely determined not to proceed exactness, every scene of my past life, which I tures I could purchase; I adorned the colonnades a step farther. To my astonishment, the phantom would have given worlds to have forgotten forever. with statues of immense price. I bought a valuable did not notice me, and his figure was soon lost He was always, as I had been, the infamous hero library, and devoted much of my time to reading. I among the trees beside the road. My determinaof the scene, acting every look again with a truth soon gathered around me every intellectual luxury tion was soon changed, when I heard loud and rethat harrowed up my soul. If he did but beckon which my immense fortune could command. My peated shrieks; they proceeded from the direction with his finger, I could not refuse to obey him. I palace was the theme of universal admiration; my in which the phantom had disappeared; they were rushed into every sort of dissipation, but he accom- past excesses began to be forgotten in the contem- so piercing that they thrilled me through and panied me; and in the gayest circles of the court. plation of my present manner of life. My family, even when the daughters of my sovereign were every one knew, was one of the noblest in Italy. *Pankow is about ten miles from Berlin, and is conversing with me, I have seen the two hands on My person (for I had entirely recovered my health) much frequented by company.

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