answer the calculations of the parents, and he now found himself treated by them not quite so unceremoniously as when he used to visit them from Westminster on a Saturday. The heart of the young lady, however, remained unchanged, and at this period their "brotherly regards," had ripened into precisely those sentiments which might be expected from two young persons in their situation. During this visit he obtained a lock of the lady's hair, which he promised to show to no one, and on his return home, with her permission, he wrote her a letter. It contained no declaration of love, but commenced in the common form with " Dear Cousin," and ended with "very truly yours." It was a well guarded epistle, which he thought would be the introduction to a long series. inclosed it to her father, committed it to the post office, and in a few days it was returned to him in a blank envelop. The general, displeased at this treatment of his nephew, very civilly requested an explanation from his old friend, Sir T. Jermyn, which was declined, with great formality, by that gentleman. All intercourse between the families was thus destroyed. To this brief statement it is necessary to add, that the unfortunate letter never was seen by Caroline, but she was informed by her mother that it had been returned by her in consequence of the great impropriety of its character.

He

The reader of novels will now easily imagine how many delicate situations may be made to arise from such a misunderstanding, in the hands of a skilful writer. In this branch of his profession, we think the author is entitled to no little praise. His incidents are happily conceived, and follow each other in a very natural order. It is in his dialogue that he fails, and his failings are the more glaring because before his personages are allowed to speak, they are introduced by a description which they generally falsify, by their manners or conversation. There is, moreover, a great deal of prosing about matters which are bolted to the bran every week in the

in three-fourths of the family circles from which the fashionable world is composed. Thus, in the fifth chapter of the first volume a matrimonial dialogue is inflicted upon us, on the interesting subject of general invitations. Sir Thomas Jermyn and his dame are the interlocutors. The former is a pompous piece of inanity, who, by stirring about at turnpike meetings and such objects of petty ambition, had obtained a seat in parliament, as the representative of a borough which contained fifteen voters. This was acquired, as we are informed," at a moderate expense," and under the obligation to vote uniformly with the ministry. His wife is a lady of low ori

gin, who made a good match, it was said, in consequence of having a pretty face. She was described by her acquaintance, as a clever body at a pinch, who always played her cards well. Such was the couple who read in a newspaper the important intelligence that a certain duke was about to pay a visit to a certain viscount, who was the brother-in-law of the member from Brackingsley. The viscount had always looked a little de haut en bas upon the member; but still, as they lived at a considerable distance apart, a decent degree of cordiality and attention had been vouchsafed. The dialogue is well enough in itself, but it is misplaced. It clogs the narrative and impairs its vivacity. We quote the passage, as a specimen of the manner of the writer. The reader will be amused with the art of the lady in flattering the vanity and soothing the wounded pride of the knight.

"I have been thinking for some time, Sir Thomas, that we have been using the Daventry's rather ill, and you cannot think how it lies upon my mind."

"Using them ill, how so?" said the baronet, raising his head from a cup of green tea, and the report of the game committee.

"Why, you know how kind they have always been, and how fond they are of having us with them, and how long it is since they have been with us."

"Yes-I know it is a long time; but whose fault was that? I'm sure we have asked them often enough."

"True, true, Sir Thomas, so we have. Circumstances, you know, always prevented them. But what I was going to say was this-I really think we have not behaved quite well to them. Your sister Daventry, when we saw them at Leamington, said a great deal—a great deal indeed, about our meeting so seldom; and she seemed to allude to it again in her note, when she sent us those seeds and cuttings for the green house; and you know, Sir Thomas, you have had two letters from lord Daventry, written expressly to ask you there."

"No, no, my dear; not written expressly; no such thing. One was about an under game keeper, and the other was full of the Compton-heath inclosure bill. He said something, to be sure, in each of them, about seeing us at Hemingsworth; but he did not fix any day. They were mere general invitations."

"Certainly, certainly, there were other subjects in both letters. You know, you gentlemen seldom write except upon business. But you are aware, yourself, that he has invited us twice; and after that, I really think it is now our turn to show some attention, and that we cannot do less than offer to go to them."

"Go to them! oh! that is the attention you mean! Why I thought, lady Jermyn, you were going to propose that we should ask them to come to us." "I should be truly happy, I'm sure, to see them here, as I always am, and ever have been; but you know, Sir Thomas, at this time of the year, they are constantly engaged with company at home; therefore, much as we may desire it, our seeing them here is out of the question. Besides, I think it would be quite unpardonable to take no notice of their invita

tion, after all that your sister has said, and Lord Daventry having written twice on the subject.

"I don't know what my sister may have said, but as for Daventry's two letters, they were nothing, as I told you, but general invitations; and I always have said, and always shall say, that general invitations stand for nothing."

"Now, really, Sir Thomas, I cannot agree with you. I know it is the fashion to abuse general invitations, but for my part, I always stand up for them. To be sure, they are often used to indifferent people that one does'nt care about, because, perhaps, one must ask them, and cannot exactly at the moment fix any time; but, surely, when friends and relations invite one in that way, they mean, that one shall at all times be equally welcome."

"Equally welcome!-aye, very likely that is to say, just as little at one time as another. No, no, my dear, I am no friend to general invitations. I have always said, and I always shall say, that a person who asks you to come at any time,' bad much rather you never came at all."

"Oh, Sir Thomas! you must not say that, because you are doing yourself a great injustice, You know, you often do that very thing to many excellent people, that I am sure we have a great regard for. There are the Joneses, and the Gibses, and the Robinses, and the Barkers; you never meet them but you make a speech about seeing them, and yet we never have them but once in two years."

"Why, between ourselves, my dear," said the baronet. in a confidential tone,"towards a certain class of people that one must be civil to, a little management of this sort is very useful; and you may depend upon it, that Daventry pays off his scores in that coin as well as ourselves."

"I have not the least doubt of it-to certain people-but I cannot sup pose that he does to us. Really, Sir Thomas, we ought to go, if it is only to show that we do not place ourselves in that class. Your dear sister would feel it very much; and I am sure, Sir Thomas, that you who are so generally civil to every body, would never be guilty of an act of rudeness to your own near relations."

"Oh, I have no objection to go to them; only, I have a great deal of business of one sort or other; and I think I am rather wanted here at present."

"Ah, Sir Thomas! as for that, you know you are always wanted in this neighbourhood. We could never leave home if that were an excuse. But they ought to be taught to do without you. A man in your situation is not to be made a drudge. He ought to take an opportunity of showing his independence."

"Yes, yes-no doubt-no doubt-well, do as you please-I say again, I have no objection to go to Hemingsworth."

"Very well. I could do nothing, you know, without your concurrence: but since you agree to go, I'll write directly to your sister Daventry, and tell her we'll come to them, if they can receive us, on Monday next. There will be ample time for an answer."

A polite and carefully worded note was quickly despatched to lord Daventry, and received, as soon as the distance would permit, a very civil and favourable reply.

To this enviable mansion they accordingly repair, and here Caroline is first brought into company. Among the visiters at Hemingsworth, the seat of lord Daventry, they found a Mr. Trebeck, who, as he appears to be one of the author's

most laboured characters, is entitled to particular notice from us. Lady Daventry on receiving Sir Thomas Jermyn's family, felicitates them, among other circumstances, upon the good fortune which awaits them in the society of Mr. Trebeck, who is one of the circle assembled at her mansion.-" Perhaps you don't know him," slily insinuates her ladyship, “but of course you have heard him spoken of; very fine, and every thing of that sort; but pleasant, remarkably pleasant, where he is known. Caroline did not know this important personage, nor had she heard of him, and she sought information from her mother. She was not much enlightened by the information she received, and repaired to her toilet where "she occupied her mind as much as that business would permit, in forming abstract ideas of a duke and duchess, and, in endeavouring to divine what manner of man the Trebeck could possibly be." The first introduction of this "far-famed and redoubtable" personage, as he is styled, will display his character, we think, more satisfactorily than it has been done in the elaborate delineation of the author: and we think, moreover, that however great a compliment his visit may have conferred upon an English duke and duchess, an American gentleman would scarcely have concluded from his manners that he was many removes above the condition of a bar keeper or an exhibiter of pattern cards. The first ebullition of wit, from this consummate master of the art is as follows: he had delayed his appearance at the dinner table until some time after the company was seated, and when he took his seat his reply to his host's invitation-"Trebeck, shall I help you? I am afraid it is cold;"-was-" If you please, but I'll first take some wine with the duchess. Cold, is it? Oh! never mind," and half turning to Caroline,-"even cold fish is a luxury to one who comes in resigned to see nothing but the cheese." To us this appears the very quintessence of coxcombry, in which is included all the sins against good sense and good breeding. He was placed at the table next to Caroline, a very young lady be it remembered, whom he had never seen before, and he displays his smartness at the expense of her feelings in the following manner: while a duke, was expatiating with an enthusiasm which might have done honour to a cook, upon the qualities of various viands, Trebeck informed Caroline, in a low tone, that the peer was quite an amateur in that art, and begged her leave to recommend a particular dish to him of which she was eating "upon her authority," "I dare not upon my own," he said.

"Then pray do not use mine," said the lady. JULY, 1826.-No. 285.

3

"Yes, I will, with your permission; I'll tell him you thought by what dropt from him in conversation that it would exactly suit the genius of his taste. Shall I? Yes. Duke," raising his voice a little and speaking across the table.

"Oh! no. How can you?"

"Why not?-Duke, with a glance at Caroline,-will you allow me to take wine with you?"

When we consider that this shallow impertinence comes from a person who has been introduced to us as a gentleman whose presence at the tables of the English nobility is considered as "a compliment," what are we to infer respecting the state of society in that country, if the author of this novel is to be admitted as a competent witness?

One of the best passages in this novel is that in which Granby accuses Tyrrel of being a sharper, and compels him to refund his dishonourable gains. Tyrrel was, as he then believed, his cousin, the heir apparent of the head of his house, and his personal friend, for whom he entertained a true and warm regard. Courtenay, the victim of Tyrrel's fraudulent practices, was a mutual friend, though Granby's feelings towards him had been somewhat estranged, since he had viewed him as a successful rival in the affections of Caroline. When, however, he saw him at a splendid route soon after his ruin had been accomplished,-his eyes fixed and glaring, his cheeks pale, and his whole countenance exhibiting a frightful picture of agony, the generous heart of Granby forgot every thing but commiseration for the wretched object before him. Withdrawing Courtenay from the scene of gayety by which he was surrounded, he prevailed upon him to go home and then repaired to Tyrrel's lodgings. The scene which ensued may be described in the words of the author:

The door at length was half opened by a drowsy servant, with a candle in his hand, who, peeping at him, with a look of much surprise at the unseasonableness of the visit, told him that his master was still in his sitting room. This was sufficient, and Granby hastily passed the servant, and without waiting to be announced, proceeded quietly but rapidly to the room. On opening the door, he saw Tyrrel, his head resting on one hand, while the other held a pencil. He was deeply intent on a paper before him, on which he appeared to have been writing figures; two candles, burnt almost to the socket, threw their dim light upon his face; and on the same table stood a wine glass, and a small phial containing laudanum, to the use of which pernicious drug, Tyrrel had lately begun to habituate himself. Tyrrel did not raise his eyes from the paper immediately upon Granby's entrance, thinking probably that it was the servant; but scarcely had he made two steps into the room when Tyrrel looked up, and on seeing him, started from his chair in seeming terror, and crumpling up the paper, threw it from him into the fire place.

"How now, Granby? here again!" said he; and then catching the stern