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near the metropolis, just on the eve of the Restoration. II. " It tells me, Master Thorpe, that she knows the devil The characters are various, and form a complete repre- || 16

|| is disposed to abandon her.'

“But little talent and exertion were now required to sentation of nearly all the classes and sects of that I drive the cow close up to the door of the cottage. The strange and agitated period. Challoner, a loyalist, is I welkin again rung with the acclamations of the rabble, and the principal personage, and about him the others are the poor beast was now honoured with the senseless plaudits clustered with considerable ability. His public and

of her followers, many of whom approached, and would fain

have patted her to show their kindly feeling, if the irritated private feelings are beautifully mingled, and render his

state to which she had been brought had not made her too story and his actions singularly interesting. But the startlish to admit of their coming near with safety. most original and best drawn character is one Johnson, " And now every-thing being adjusted, the witch-disthe son of Guy Fawkes,-an awful compound of hu

coverer stalked forward. He wore a cloak surmounted by a

white linen collar, which spread over each shoulder. The man and fiendish passions, who plays a high part || cloak was thrown'open by the elbow of the right arm, which throughout all the events of the romance. Matthew I was placed a-kimbo, while the left was half extended, the Hopkins, a famous witch-finder of his day, is a curious hand grasping a staff'as tall as himself, which was somewhat historical personage. It is almost impossible to credit

larger than a common halbert stick at the top, but came

tapering downwards tillit was not larger than the fore-finger the extent to which the belief in witchcraft, and the

of a man. From time to time he majestically waved this, art of witcn-finding had reached, about this period. the sceptre of command, to direct those near him to advance Nothing but the clearest evidences of history can con or retire. His bushy hair surmounted by a tall and rather vince us of it. We will extract a few passges illustra

pyramidic hat, gave his upper part an air of grim authority,

and his boots, the tops of which presented the semblance of tive of this prevalent folly. Hopkins had been invited

two funnels beneath his knees, were furnished with formidto St. Alban's, to detect a supposed witch :

able spurs, which, however inconvenient, he would not put

off on such occasions, from a wish to retain all the impor“ Thorpe left the house, accompanied by Hopkins, to | tance of hurry, while following his vocation. superintend the preliminary experiment. A crowd had assembled for the double sport of hunting a cow, and detect- || adjourn, the females who had consented to assist on this ing a witch. The rabble divided their stares between the || grand occasion were found ready to perform their part. oddly disfigured animal they were about to torment, and Hopkins craved some pause, while he addressed them as a the important personage by whose advice this foolery was ju. Be would a grand jury, directing them bow to proceed in to be practised. The signal was given by Hopkins, who || the enquiry which they had been called there to make. He for that purpose waved his high-crowned hat to the mob. told them they were to ascertain whether or not the accused At once a thousand voices were heard in boarse, but jocund || had three teats, but he remarked to them that they must discord, and as many sticks and goads were applied to the || not expect the third one to be precisely like the others. poor animal's back and sides. The cow bellowed, the mob | Sometimes the devil caused that which he provided for the shouted, and by the judicious directions of Hopkins and his || accommodation and nourishment of bis imp, to resemble a man, every thing went on very favourably. The lecture || pimple; at other times it wore the appearance of a mole, which Thorpe had given to those who baulked him on the land very frequently it would appear no other than the prick

brown away. It was indeed so ll of a pin. These varieties, and the possibly minute size of well understood in which direction they were to go, and that for which they sought, made it necessary to use great Thorpe's labourers were so anxious to atone for their former || diligence in the search. failure, that unusual discipline prevailed, and the frantic “Dame Neville was taken into the cottage. At this moobject of their cruelty was soon seen desperately rushing || ment a sparrow flew over the crowd, and settled on the roof through all obstructions towards the humble residence of of the house. The people generally took no notice of it, but the suspected female.

the moment Hopkins saw the bird he perceived a new proof " The wide-spreadiug tumult was heard afar, and reach of guilt, and called out, ed the poor retreat of Dame Neville. Little imagining the * You see yon thing, neighbours ?' pointing to the sparcause of the disturbance, the unusual clamour induced her row. to walk to the extremity of the enclosure belonging to her 66. Mean you that bird ?' cottage. She saw a multitude of persons in motion, but the || ““That thing in the shape of a sparrow is no true bird. noise which they made had so much mirth in it, that she || This is one of the witch's familiars, who wanting suck, has felt quite satisfied no one was in danger. She perceived the || followed her from her home.' riotous merry makers, one and all, bend their steps towards 66. So I judged,' said Thorpe. But tell me, good Masthe place where she stood, and at length she discerned the l ter Hopkins, by what indubitable sign shall the familiar be goaded animal which they followed. Raging with the in known, from the thing of which it wears the resemblance.' tolerable torture inflicted by the blows of the multitude, the “* By observation, and especially by noting the time, creature happened at this moment to shake from its horns || place, and circumstances of its appearance. Why, I pray the tatters which had till then adhered to them. A yell of you, should a sparrow, which is naturally a timid and modest strange exultation burst from the mob; and, stunned by the || bird, come here in presence of this congregation? Why uproar, Dame Neville hastened to conceal herself from the should it settle on the very top of this dwelling ? advancing rioters.

"• Pooh!' said James, I have sometimes marked spar" See you there,' said Hopkins to Thorpe, who kept || rows to be so saucy, that I could hardly scare them away by close to him nearly in the front of the mob. "See you with shouting with all my might and main. Is this the form in what shame and confusion she tries to hide herself.

which imps, as you call them, always come ?' 6. I marked it well."

6 • Certainly not. I have seen a familiar wear the shape 66. Does not this show guiltiness of heart?'

of a butterfly. 66° No doubt,' Thorpe replied.

6. Why then I suppose any bird, beast, or insect, found 66. Had she not known that she was guilty, she would near the abode of one accused of witchcraft, may be made a never have fled thus precipitately.'

familiar.' " . Certainly not. This of itself is in my mind enough to 66 * The devil is not nice about the vehicles he selects for condemn upon.'

his offspring to travel in to work his will.'

former

"The cry was now up, that the sparrow was no other than ) « But the gem of Ashford is yet untold. Passing the vilone of the witch's familiars, and a volley of stones was sent || lage on the Manchester road we enter a gently marked holtowards it by the mob, to mark their indignation against the || low way, bounded on the right by a steep orchard-slope, devil and all belonging to him. This salutation induced and on the left by a high wall over-hung with lofty trees, the sparrow to take wing, and he immediately proved that || that skreen the roof and chimnies of a house apparently the his quality had not been mistaken by flying out of sight. It || residence of some of the gentry of the country, to which the was unanimously resolved that the familiar, terrified by the close folding gates that open from the road present an acholy proceedings then in progress, had vanished-with a cess. If by favour or presumption you pass their barrier, noise like thunder, some said, but all were not agreed on and proceed a hundred paces down a confined carriage way, this point.”

you will arrive in line with the front of the house, and peep But we cannot proceed any further in this melancholy

within the casket where lies the emerald treasure. demonstration of human folly and wickedness.

" The house, above a cot, below a seat,' is not alone the Lilly,

property of his Grace the Duke of Devonshire, but the octhe astrologer, is likewise introduced, and bis absurdi casional residence. It stands under the shadow of those ties and ignorance are ridiculed with great powers of lofty trees that exclude all objects but those they surround. sarcasm and derision. We have no room for extracts

Il The capacious bow-window of an oblong dining-room exrelating to the dramatic part of the work.

pands upon the gravel walk adjoining the soft green turf This is

that almost imperceptibly slopes to the water's edge; not full of novelty, and throws a light over an obscure an artificial lake or forced fish-pool, but the sounding, portion of theatrical history. The author is evidently sparkling Wye, that, with all the freshness of a mountain well read in the subiect, and practised in the art of || stream, with all the windings of its characteristic course, conveying his information to the public.

with all the beauty of its living waters, rushes through the Not the

| sylvan domain. least interesting pages of this romance, are those which | " Fronting the windows a light bridge unites the two contain anecdotes connected with local history of savannas; the opposite turf rising gradually to its extremiLondon. We are at this moment writing on a spot

ty, is also bounded by its grove of trees, that skirts the exwhich, till now, we did not know to be graced and en

tended bank. The lawn on each side the river is broken

only by little patches of the choicest flowers, and the mould riched with any associations more dear than those con- || from whence they spring is covered with mignonette, whose nected with ourselves. The dialogue is always smart, || rich perfume fills the sweet air with its fragrance, rising ay lively, and often witty. This is the author's forte,

incense to hallow this temple of the Floral, of the sylvan, of

the lucid deities. The house is covered, from the base to and perhaps he has occasionally indulged in it a little

the chimney's topmost ledge, with trellis; and when the too far.

climbers begin to ascend, and the creepers to run, the pasAltogether we regard the “Witch-Finder" as one of sion-flower to sanctify, and the clematis to empurple, it will the most amusing and instructive rotnances of the time

indeed become a perfect bower of beauty, and it is a sweet rich as the time is, in productions of the same class.

reflection that he, who a prince in the palace of his forefathers, upon the banks of the Derwent, who is in possession of all that rank, and station can bestow, that wealth can

give, and ambition desire, selects and adopts this rustic Vignettes of Derbyshire. By the Author of "The Life of || bijou, this verd-unique, this little fishing-house, on the banks a Boy.” London: G. and W. B. Whittaker, 8vo. 1824.

of the winding Wye; which, after having run its race with

mountain swiftness, through the sylvan hamlet of King's This is a delightful little book. It is the outpour- ||

Sterndale, by the wild solitudes of Chee Torr, the rocky ing of a deep and fervent enthusiasm for the beauties

passes of Miller's Dale, the deep clefts of Cresbrook, and

the fairy scenes of Monsal, wantons and sports beneath the of nature—and a lively sensibility to all the influences

eye of the Lord of Hartington, from whence its native waof local attachment and native associations. Derby-| ters spring, before it takes its final way to the shining east, shire is one of our most romantic districts, and the

and mixes with the classic waves of Derwent. author of these “ Vignettes " has described its beauties

“ There, perhaps, may the Duke of Devonshire look

| around, and say with complacent feelings subdued from the with the feeling and language of a poet. We will make

world; with the hereditary feelings of she who bore him, a single extract-not the best-but the shortest we can and whose memory he sanctifies: Here is enough for the find. It is entitled, “ Ashford-in-the-Water."

heart of man, the rest is my country's and my forefathers'!'

Perhaps, like the great statesman of Elizabeth, may, after ** During a short autumnal visit, in 1822, amidst the || he has passed the humble gates, take off his courtly robes, sweetest and most sylvan part of the Peak of Derbyshire, and say, " There lie, my Lord Chancellor !” and in sport, the little village of Ashford-in-the-Water was not the least even as I did in thought, amplify comparison upon the attractive. Possessing those requisites that adorn and ac sweet enchantment. commodate a village residence-requisites that, whilst they " To Chatsworth, gorgeous Chatsworth, it is but a light contribute to the conveniences of its inhabitants, are pleas. | trinket hung to a costly watch ; or a single blossom of the ing to the eye of the traveller, and gratifying to the heart of || jasmine by the side of the imperial rose; or a solitary star, humanity-a corn-mill, with its appendages of water-wheels

I sailing in the wake of the resplendent moon; or the scent nd water-falls; an ancient church, with its grass-grown || of the violet, that rises upon the air, whic burial ground; a long-extended bridge, neat cottages, and Arabia have exhausted; or the song of the robin, after the a village green, with wood and water interspersed, as its full choirs of the groves had died away; or the emerald significant name denotes. Though placed at the extremity light of the glow-worm shining upon the darkness that sucof one of the wildest of the dales, Demon's Dale, and in the ceeded the blazing torcheg; or the shepherd's pipe upon the vicinity of those mountain fractures, through which the mountains, when the echoes of the brazen trumpets had Wye forces its rocky channel, it is cheerful, open, and airy; ceased; or the still small voice of grateful praise, when the presenting amidst and aloof from its village houses, two or pealing anthem, and the loud response no longer filled the three of a superior order, the association of whose inhabi cathedral's lofty arches :--it was all this, and more; it was tants must be of a higher nature.

nature's lullaby from the tumult of the world; the eye revelling in its beauty, and the mind reposing in its quietness lor, a la Somnambule,' a pretty girl walking in her sleep, whilst its balmy sweetness pervaded the purest joy of sense, and night dress, and followed by her gallant. and all its green attractions, and its lucid aninations, took || “In ludicrous things a barber will write under his signcaptive the heart of woman, who saw in its combined de

• La nature donne barbe et cheveux; lights the reflection of her primeval home.”

Et moi, je les coupe tous les deux;'

or. Mementos, Historical and Classical, of a Tour through part ||

“A toutes les figures dediant mes rasoirs of France, Switzerland, and Italy, in the Years 1821, ||

Je nargue la censure des fideles miroirs.' 1822, &c. London: Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, Svo. | “ Also a frequent inscription with a barber is1824.

• Ici on rajeunit.' He must be a bold man who would set about pub- | * A brecches maker writes up, lisling two thick octavos upon France and Italy, after || • M.- Culottier de Madame la Duchesse de Devonshire.' so many (and some of them very complete) works had l " A Perruquier exhibits a sign very well painted of an been already compiled upon the same subjects. It || old fop trying on a new wig, entitled. argues a self confidence of no ordinary character. The

• Au ci-devant jeune homme.' writer must believe himself in possession of great | powers of observation, or singular felicity of description, || inscription

ll. “A butcher displays a bouquet of faded flowers, with the

A if he can hope to say much that has not been already

Au tendre souvenir.' said. At present we know almost every inch of France, Italy, and Switzerland, as well as we know our own

" An eating-house exhibits a punning sign in an ox dres

| sed up with bonnet, lace, veil, shawl, &c. which naturally garden. They have been described over and over | implies-Bauf a la mode. again, until half the value of even a really good book is A pastry-cook has a very pretty little girl climbing up lost in its wanting the charm of novelty. Forsyth. || to reach some cakes in a cupboard, and his sign he callsEustace, and Matthews, have, each in their way, writ

• A la petite yourmande.' ten extremely amusing and instructive accounts of “ A stocking-maker has painted for him a lovely creature

Italy, and Coxe's Switzerland (in the edition of Mons. trying on a new stocking, at the same time exhibiting more | Raimond) is excellent. We doubt whether the volumes

charms than the occasion requires to the young fellow

who is on his knees at ber feet, with the very significant before us will supersede either of the above named

motto works. The author seems to be deficient in many

• A la belle occasion.'" of the first requisites of a traveller, and even were he

From the part relating to Switzerland, we might possessed of them all, they would be greatly impaired by the injudicious style which he frequently adopts, and

make some amusing quotations. The author is a great the habit of overlaying all his descriptions with tedious

hand at fine writing, as the ensuing extracts will compilations from other tooks.

prove :The author begins his travels at the beginning ; for

| “ Arrived at Sallanches, a stage before Chamouni, whilst he sets out with his departure from London. We have

the sun was setting. One apparent golden cloud appeared

conspicuous in the heavens; as a darker o'ershadowed it, no room to give any extracts from his descriptions of

blackening furrows, and silvery snows contrasted, proved it a Stage Coach, Brighton, the Packet Boat, Dieppe nor Mont Blanc. Rouen. These places and things are not altogether

" It were vain to attempt to describe the glorious apunknown to the reader, and that which is new is not

pearance that this huge mountain and its stupendous

heights make;-the varieties of tints as the sun rises or sets well told. The account of Paris is made up from guide

upon it; the splendour of its colours; its green furrows; books, or at least resembles them greatly, except that its blackening uranite; its silvery ice, and pinky, roseate it is considerably duller. The best passage, by far,

hues; a mount specially sacred to the wintry, rigid Deities that we can find, is the following:

of Frost, but around and about which beneficent Apollo, as

if for contrast, loves to show and play his brightest rainbow “ Nevertheless, barring these, and some other inconve

beams." niences, I know of nothing more amusing than a walk in " Frost, which in our moderate clime, and generally, Paris streets. Some of the shops, particularly those for

binds with its adainantine fetters all nature in inaction, clocks and china, make a superb display, while all have a stopping the roaring of the torrents, and the gurgling of very diversified and numerous collection of articles; but it the brook ;-and shows that hide all the things upon the is the signs that so amuse, and absolutely arrest, a stanger.

earth with a silvery mantle, and bring acreeping silence o’er This is a practice that has grown into a mania at Paris, and

all, till nothing is heard save their gently dropping, sliding is even a subject for the ridicule of the stage, since many a -things animate and inanimate teem with thy wonders ;shop-keeper considers his Sign as a primary matter, and sleet ;-yet here, in the wilds of Switzerland, do these snows spends a little capital in this one outfit. Many of them ex produce in their terrific rage, thunders that deafen the hibit figures as large as life, painted in no humble, or shab loudest artillery; and avalanches that in a moment tear by style; while history, sacred and classical, religion, the away whole forests, villages, all, at one fell swoop! stage, &c. furnish subjects. You may see the Horatii and “Oh Nature ! Nature! where'er we court thee, how subCuriatii-a scene from the Fourberies de Scapin of Moliere lime, how expanding, how imineasurably grand, how mi--a group of French soldiers with the inscription- A la croscopically beautiful! All the most ardent human imavaleur des soldats Francois,' or a group of children inscrib-ginations combined cannot conceive or fashion the least of ed- A la reunion des bons enfans,' or, a la Baigneuse,' the beauties which thou every where lavishest! nor can depicting a beautiful nymph just issuing from the bath : the deepest philosophy or reasoning fathom thy awful ways

and operations! Earth, water, air, fire, all the elements: || Conrad and other Poems. By T. A. TEMPLEMAN, L.L.B. there is perfection of beauty and utility in the speck and of Trinity College, Cambridge. London: G. and W.B. the atom which is too fine for mortal eye to see ;--and here, in this land, thou hast piled mountain upon mountain even

Whittaker, 1824. to the skies; and has given to icy frost, and to the simple snow-ball, all the majesty, and all the terrors of the earth THAT young masters at school, and young gentlequake and volcano!"

men at College, should now and then indulge in the Italy naturally awakens all the sensibilities of the construction of verses, is to us a matter of no surprise. traveller, and gives him ample scope for displaying his || The amusement is genteel, and not very unintellectual. talent in descrip'ion. One fauit we cannot avoid no-|| | At any rate it is an amusement, and serves as a relaxaticing : it is this,-he never mentions the name of a | tion from the sterner pursuits of digging out Greek Heathen deity, bul he must give a long account of his roots, and squaring the circle. But we marvel at the mythological character, till the book is made quite a dreadful mistake which these persons commit, when Pagan pantheon. To those who are in possession of they send forth these productions to the world, in the Lempriere, this is somewhat superfluous. In his ac idea that the world will ever care two straws for them. count of works of art, he occasionally makes blunders ; | People are too earnestly employed in business or pleaas for instance, where he speaks of Fuseli's celebrated | sure to be able to afford any time for the perusal of picture of the Death of Ugolino. We are sure that || bad poetry. If they read poetry at all, it must be of a Mr. Fuseli feels no desire to strip Sir Joshua of any of prime quality, bearing the stamp of genius, and such as bis laurels. But our traveller is not particularly strong || is universally current. Of this high order we have poe. in criticism. He is much more at home in the senti- || try enough, and even to spare. It is in vain therefore mental walk, as the concluding portion of the following that Mr. Templeman and writers of his class, deluge the extract will show :

town with such things as “ Conrad, and other Poems."

They will never do. They have no direct and positive "If it be allowable to speak of paing proceeding only from

m claim to admiration, and therefore they are without disappointed anticipation, I may be allowed to speak of mine arising from the absence of the British Ambassador, Lord

apology. His friends have been very unkind in reBurghersh.

commending their publication. As a piece of advice, " To Florence at large his present stay in England is we recommend to him, and to all other ambitious matter of regret; to Englishmen his loss is more severe.. * To his mansion all who were worthy were welcome, and ||

Il youths, not to trust-nor even to consult their friends to his own countrymen, once properly introduced, a récep- || upon such perilous questions, as the propriety of pubtion there was naturally a passport to the circles of the || lishing the offspring of their fauciful leisure. For other English and Florentine nobility. For niyself, I had |

ourselves we have an utter detestation of friends. that introduction which I may justly think would have

| They are sure to flatter one into the perpetration of brought me within the sphere to which His Excellency extended his favoury; and as I know of few objects more

But to able to a traveller than an insight into the manners and Conrad is a short tale of some youth-exiled from modes of foreign society, I must proportionately lament the his native land-and becoming the leader of a band of chance which has thus deprived me of this range of visiting.

pirates. As a story it is without interest, and as a poem Nevertheless, I have had the advantage of admission into some other superior circles, and from the circumstance of without merit. The versification is loose and hobbling, being directed by chance into a house where I became the images very common place, and the general cast of very intimate with its most agreeable inmates, I have less thought sufficiently indifferent. Egbert, the next in felt the want of, or the wish for, a more extended circle of

the collection, is pretty much in the same way. Mr. visiting. I am happy here to record Miss W. daughter of General Sir Charles W. whose amiability deserves more

Templeman, in fact, is no poet. His comic verses are than this brief notice; nor do I forget Miss H. who, to the better than his serious. This is not very good, but it is advantages of birth, unites the charms of person and of ll not bad : talent, with the vivacity of the liveliest of dispositions.

“ Intimacy with Mrs. H. and the young lady, led to some gallantry from a certain young gentleman of the party to

" To pass a tedious winter's morn away Miss H., and it having been reported, whether truly or no, Grim to a gospel warehouse went one day; I cannot tell, that the said lady had exercised her skill in

Priestley appear'd, high mounted on his chair; miniature painting by a sketch of his portrait, on the ensu

He named his text, and then he quoted Blair, ing morning, this effusion was accordingly presented to her.

Nor gave he Blair the credit (cheating ell), * Address to a Young Lady who drew the Author's

But modestly he took it to hiinself. Portrait.

Grim mark'd it, and with scrutinizing air · Matilda deigns her talents bright

He ey'd the preacher, and exclaim'd, that's Blair.'

Not yet abash'd, the minister went on,
To bid the pencil trace

Quoted again : says Grim, that's Tillotson?'
A Head; and, thus, recall to sight

The preacher redden'd, hemm’d, but, mustering strength,
Th’expression of the face.

He brought another passage out at length. • To fading colours she refers

• Cooper,' said Grim; the man of God no longer The features to impart:

Could hold his passions, which, being held, grew stronger,
To me such aid needs not;

He boil'd with rage, then, with an angry air,
For Hers are graven on my heart.''

• Sexton,' said he, turn out that fellow there :'

Said Grim (retaining gravity of tone, (To be continued.)

And an unalter'd visage), . That's his own.'

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“ Tom once invited me to dine,

terest of all, was the certainty of belonging to no one in the And taste some exceller

world. To be alone! Ever, and for ever alone! Madame He ask'd and I embraced it:

de B. had owned it, and I repeated the words over and A more exact man I ne'er knew;

over. Wbat cared I to be alone, but a few minutes before. His invite literally was true,

I knew it not, I felt it not; I had need of the beings that I He only let me taste it!

loved, but I was unconscious of their not wanting me. Now How is it kings and poets live so long

my eyes were opened, and with misfortune came mistrust

into my soul. Within the annals fame puts forth to-day? • By his own works,' cries Tom, the child of song

" When I returned to Madame de B.'s apartment, every Survives his dust; how kings live I can't say :'

body was struck with the change in my appearance. I pre

tended to be ill, and was believed. Madame de B. sent for • O!' cries another, standing by the while,

her physician, Barthez, who felt my pulse, questioned me • That poets by their works survive 'tis true;

carefully, and then abruptly declared that nothing ailed • Their names we laud whilst we admire their style, me. This quieted the uneasiness of my benefactress about

But by their works survive not monarchs too?' my health, but she sought every means of diverting my I know not,' cries the first,“ but pray explain ;'

mind. I dare not own how little gratitude I felt for her • What!' cries the second, don't you truly know it, care. My heart seemed withered in itself. As long as it • The king's and poet's fames survive the same ?

had received favours with pleasure, it gladly acknowledged • For 'tis the monarch's work to see the poet.'

the benefit; but now filled with the bitterest feelings, it • Sure mortal never saw through eyes like thine,'

had no power to expand. My days were spent in the same Cried William to an old coquetting lass: A

thoughts, differently combined and under various forms. The speech of Will, indeed, was mighty fine,

but still the blackest my imagination could invent. Often And very true, for they were made of glass.

were my nights passed in weeping. I exhausted my whole

pity upon myseli-My face was becoming odious to me,-1 ON GAS, THE BOXER.

no longer dared to look in a glass and my black hands “ Death fought unfair with Gas; chance laid him low; struck me with horror;-They appeared to me like a When he was down, Death gave the fatal blow !"

Monkey's. I dwelt upon the idea of my ugliness, and my

colour appeared to me the sign of my reprobation : it was

Il that alone which separated me from the rest of my f Ourika. Paris : chez Ladvocat, 1824.

creatures, and condemned me to live alone, and never to be This little story has excited a good deal of attention beloved. That a man should perhaps consent for the sake in Paris, but “why or wherefore we are wholly una

of money to have negro children! My blood rose with

indignation at the idea. I thought for a moment of enble to say. It does not appear to possess any particular

treating Madame de B.to send me back to my own country; merit, except that of simplicity of material. The in but even there I should have felt isolated. Who would cidents are by no means affecting, and they are encum. have understood me? Who would have sympathized with bered with a copious interlarding of sentimentality.

my feelings? Alas! I belonged to no one-I was estranged

from the whole world !” In these days of excessive humanity, perhaps, it is some reason why a story should be popular, that it

In the midst of all this affliction she falls in love should turn upon the fortunes of a pretty negress.

with Charles, the grandson of her protector. We For our own parts, we are not so susceptible of dark

ought to have stated that the epoch of this tale was in influences_nor so fatigued with the old associations,

the earlier stages of the French Revolution. Much of her as to suffer our humanity-or rather our philogurry

hope of being rescued from the miseries of her condito disturb the serenity of our critical functions.

| tion, was placed by Ourika in the possibility of her Ourika-is the story of a young negro girl, told by

finding some better resting-place in the changes and herself, in the intervals of disease, to her medical attend.

upturning of society, which that Revolution caused. ant. Brought at the early age of two years from Senegal

The characters of the actors in that sad and guilty by the Chevalier de B- , governor of that settlement,

drama, soon destroyed her hopes, and dispersed the she becomes a kind of adopted child in his family,

gay visions which her imagination had engendered. and grows up a model of personal grace and intellec.

The family of De

B w as royalist, and consequenttual accomplishment, but her complexion is an un

ly suffered in the struggle. All that portion of the | happy obstacle to her establishment in the world-dis

narrative which details the privations, terrors, oppresquieting the affection of her patrons, and filling her

sions, and fortitude of the different persons of that own bosom with apprehension and sorrow. Her reflec

family is not without interest. It is a representative tions on first learning the necessary misery of her situa

history of all the Royalist families of France. The tion are prettily written.

passion of Ourika for Charles goes on increasing in

force—till it receives a dreadful check, from a proposi. " Oh, how I felt my whole existence changed! How lost I was when the illusions I had so constantly dwelt in

tion of marriage between him and a young lady of vanished! they resembled the light of day, and when they fortune, and their subsequent union. Then come a fled, utter darkness succeeded. So great was the confusion long tissue of sentimental reflections-not at all to our of my mind under the new thoughts that assailed it, that

I goût, though the distress of Ourika is not ineffectively not one of my usual ideas ever occurred to me. I was struck with terror. To be an object of pity to the world!

described Not to be fit for the rank I lived in! Perhaps to meet with “ Days and months passed on thus. I took no share in a man who for the sake of money would consent to have conversation. My talents were neglected. The only books negro children! These thoughts kept rising successively | I could endure were those in which a feeble picture of my over my mind, pursuing me like phantoms. But the bit own sufferings was traced. I fed upon these poisons-1

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