FREDRIKA BREMER has found a formidable rival in her countrywoman, Emilie Carlén. Without the poetical vein of Miss Bremer, her refinement of sentiment, and delicacy of colouring, our new acquaintance takes a firmer grasp of the broad, actual life of her country as it flows in the customary channels, and places more reliance upon the universal passions and common sympathies of mankind. If Emilie is much less of the tasteful and engaging artist than the authoress of "The Neighbours" and "The Home," and is, so far as appears, not nearly so versant in the current light literature of France, England, and Germany, her pictures have equal or superior vigour; and, if instruction be an important element in the most frivolous literature, her work a higher and more direct moral purpose. Many, far too many, of Miss Bremer's characters are a sort of Frenchified Swedes-courtiers, or officials: those we find here, if more homely, are more genuine and racy; though Miss Bremer has no doubt delineated many true Swedes in the finest spirit of nationality. Perhaps we value this Tale the more that it removes us far from the tiresome and outworn scenes of polished society in all the European capitals, and opens up a fresh and vigorous life. Yet the Rose of Tistelön has more faults than any of Miss Bremer's novels; which, however, may rather be ascribed to want of artistic skill than of talent. The prevailing error is to overdo. There is, for example, a sensitive lad who becomes partially deranged from witnessing a murder. His mental struggles and intervals of moody madness are introduced with highly dramatic effect, deepening the tragic interest of the story, till their too frequent recurrence begins to fatigue the reader, and renders them much less impressive. The same observation is applicable to other characters and scenes in the tale. But what is an objection in England may be a merit in the more patiently reading country in which the romance is produced; and it is one that lies against what were once reckoned the very best English fictions-to the whole works of Richardson, and all the old circumstantial folio

romances.

The locale of the romance is Thistle-isle or Tistelön, as the authoress has named one of the rocky, barren islets which cluster along the reefy shores of the Cattegat; the haunt of numerous sea-fowl, and the desolate abode of a few miserable fishermen. It is nearly destitute of vegetation, presenting an aspect of dreary sterility. Marstrand is the nearest town to this dismal group of islands, which lie about three Swedish miles from the Paternoster Rocks, well known as the scene of many a fatal shipwreck. At the period the story opens, there stood, partly sheltered from the violent winds by rocks, a small, rude, and half-ruinous log dwelling, which merits to have its picture preserved.

A gable appeared to have been recently added to the house, its white timber and fresh moss presenting a striking contrast to the unsightly walls of the old part of the dwelling, discoloured by fish-drying and the action of salt water. The windows were little better than holes, with two panes of glass, one above the other, and between each such aperture raw seal-skins were stretched from the roof down to the stone foundation. The courtyard consisted of a large shelf of flat rock; at one corner of it were several poles, from which strings of skate hung in regular rows; and every point of rock near the house was also covered with ling and split cod. About the middle of the flat space, in a crevice of the rock, a mast was inserted, on the top of which a tin weathercock turned in the wind with an uneasy creaking sound; a savage watch-dog was in general posted at the farthest corner of the yard, with his nose turned towards the A thick mist rested on the barren spot; the waves beat upon the naked rocks with a dull, heavy

sea...

.

sound; and the sea-birds were hurrying, with shrill cries, to their concealed resting-places. The day was drawing to a close; the sun's last rays had sunk into the ocean, and twilight had begun to spread its shadows over Tistelön."

Some of the inmates seemed well suited to the uncouth and half-savage character of the dwelling and the locality. Wet nets and fishing lines hung in a wide entrance leading to an apartment, large, empty, and blackened with smoke, in which the pale light of an oil lamp showed Hakan Haraldson and his son Birger; the former, a short broad-shouldered man of fifty, with a bronzed and weather-beaten face, a shaggy matted head and beard resembling the sea-weed of the island. The pirate and smuggler sat like a rough sea-god at a large oak table upon a block of wood painted green, which once had formed part of a ship's mast.

"Every movement of this son of the ocean displayed great physical strength; and his sharp gray eyes, as they contemplated with satisfaction a rifle he was engaged in cleaning, had an expression which, if it did not absolutely betoken a strong mind, was at least that of a resolute and daring character. Opposite this man, who represented the head of the family, sat his eldest son, Birger, a giant, who might have been a fitting boon-companion for Rolf Krake, the famous Viking. His features had a fine manly expression; but the contemptuous curl of the lip, and something wild and misanthropical in the restless eye, gave reason to suspect that midnight darkness brooded over his soul. Birger Haraldson, attired in sail-cloth trousers, and with the sleeves of his blue striped shirt turned up to the shoulders, leaned carelessly on his firelock, while occupied in sharpening flints, trying them at times against his nail. But as strong contrasts are to be found in every situation in life, they were not wanting here. Beside the elder man sat his youngest son, Birger's half brother, a fair delicate boy of twelve or thirteen, in whose pale countenance and dark eyes listless melancholy was the prevailing expression. The dexterity with

which he twisted a fishing line showed that he was accustomed to the work; while, at the same time, he listened with timid anxiety to the conversation between his father and brother, who, on their part, paid no attention to his presence."

The conversation turned on their smuggling adventures. The elder congratulated himself upon the signs of an approaching gale, which must detain the sharp and active new lieutenant of the coast-guard in harbour, with the revenue boat, while they in peace prosecuted their calling; and that his son Birger showed the right spirit and would stand to the guns when he had himself become a wreck.

"Birger, whose restless eyes were turned to the stairs leading to the new part of the house, seemed listening for some one.

"It is the little one,' said Haraldson, as his harsh features lightened with a look of affection.

"It is Erika,' murmured Birger: and by a quick movement he turned to the other side of the room.

"A moment after the door opened, and a young woman, rather above twenty, of a pleasing but grave appearance, entered the room, leading by the hand a girl about seven years old. The child, who looked like some beautiful vision from the abode of angels, ran forward, jumped upon the old man's knee, and clasped her little white arms round his neck, saying, sweetly, 'Good night, papa! Erika will have me go to bed already!-little naughty Erika!'

"You are going out again to-night, I hear,' said the young woman, in a reproachful tone, and turning to Haraldson, as she spoke.

"I have some business on hand,' answered he, carelessly, as he gazed with sparkling eyes on his darling child, the little Gabriella..... 'I really wish, Mamselle

2 S

Erika,' resumed he, with gratified pride, that my wife were alive now; it would have done her heart good to see this child. I am bold to say it would not be easy to find her match; it would have made amends to Britta Lisa for many grievances.'

"I think the contrary,' answered Erika, in a severe tone; it would have caused her double suffering-both grief for the present and fear for the future.'

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Yes, perhaps, after she had learned from you to be high and mighty both in mind and speech.'

"Let Mamselle Erika alone, father,' said Birger, sternly. What would become of the child without her?' 66 Haraldson, who saw in his son the counterpart of himself in his youth, did not care to rouse the hot blood. "Erika was perfectly calm. She knew how she was situated in regard to those with whom she lived, and that firmness and self-possession alone procured for her the respect due to a woman compelled, as she was, by extraordinary circumstances, to remain in such society. Say good night, dear Gabriella; it is time to go to bed,' said she, gently, to her charge."

seen.

Gabriella, The Rose of Tistelön," kissed her father, nodded to her half-brother Birger, and flew into the arms of her brother Anton. That thoughtful and gentle boy was ever reluctant to share in the wild lawless adventures of his father and his brother, and utterly unfit for their daring and reckless life. But even the sinful old man's darling and idol, the resistless Gabriella, could not on this night coax her father to leave Anton behind. He must not sit at home like a milk-sop, but go out to sea and learn the trade he abhorred. Gabriella was offended; but Erika, her model in all things, was always silent when displeased, and Gabriella, mimicking the dignified air of her foster-mother and preceptress, withdrew with her to their own apartment. It formed a marked contrast to the gloomy room we have already It occupied the principal part of the new building, and had been fitted up for Erika and her pupil. "Besides being provided with tolerably large windows, it was richly, even elegantly furnished, although each article appeared to have come from a different quarter. Curtains of the finest muslin, tastefully arranged, fell in wavy folds upon the Turkish carpet, which, however, was not exactly in keeping with the rough cabin chairs and stools of various shapes. The most beautiful Persian tapestry covered the walls, in some places interspersed with flags of various nations and pieces of silk. At each joining were mirrors or pictures of different sizes the last, which were numerous, represented vessels of every construction. The whole might have been aptly compared to a gallery of portraits of deceased personages and when the bold pirate visited his daughter's room, perhaps there started from the finely-modelled hulls and delicate cordage, recollections which, like avenging spirits, came to give warning of future retribution. In fact, the whole furniture of the apartment too much resembled the spoils of plundered vessels."

A pretty scene passed, in which Gabriella said her little prayers; and when told that Birger, whom she did not like, more required her prayers than the mild and innocent Anton, she included Birger in her intercessions, and fell asleep while Erika whispered to her the legend of "The Enchanted Swans of Tistelön."

Erika Malm, the highly-gifted governess of the motherless child, has a character and a story of her own, and plays an important part in the tale of "The Rose." At three years of age she was seen in the Foundling Hospital of Stockholm, and adopted and highly educated by a rich and childless widow, who died suddenly without having made any provision for Erika. The girl was thrown upon the world, first as a nurse-maid; and next, in the anomalous capacity of upper servant and governess, she entered the family of a consul at Gottenburg, where all her patient gentleness, her sound principle, and strength of mind, were required to make life tolerable. Her duties were harassing, her treatment harsh, her rewards few. But all was meekly endured, until the insulting courtship of the master of the house was added to the exactions, parsimony, and ill-temper of the mistress. Erika, strong

in mind and body, resolved to fly the house and the town; and in a boat lying in the harbour found Dame Haraldson, who at once agreed to give her a passage. "It was a soft, calm summer's night, and the homeless, friendless girl sat beside the kind-hearted Dame Haraldson, and told her the short history of her misfortunes. With ready sympathy the good woman tried to comfort her dejected spirit; and it was therefore in a more composed and cheerful frame of mind that, after a short slumber, towards daybreak, she was roused by the information that the boat was moored by the little wooden pier at Tistelön.

"Both the elder and the younger Haraldson made an unfavourable impression on Erika; but so much the more was she drawn towards the mistress of the family. Mother Haraldson, as she was usually called, might have assumed the title of Fru,' after the example of many of the wives of the principal inhabitants, who had boats of their own, and boilers for making oil; but she despised such vanities, and, although a clergyman's daughter, would never receive any other appellation than 'good mother.' This name and her kindly disposition soon placed her and Erika on the most friendly terms; and it was settled that the latter should remain for the present as her guest. Mother Haraldson possessed a treasure that lay nearer her heart than any thing else in the world her little Gabriella, then three years old. With the deepest grief the right-minded woman witnessed the lawless life of her husband and her stepson, and anticipated nothing but evil from their daring exploits. She mourned in silence over that which she had no power to change; and now thanked God that, in the event of her death, the tender blossom, already called 'the Rose of Tistelön,' on account of her singular beauty, would receive in Erika a careful guide and protectress. Little accustomed to the cheering influence of affection and pure good will, Erika willingly assented to the renewed entreaty that she would seek no other home. naked rocks, the fetid smells, the dreary aspect of nature all around Tistelön, signified little to her: she saw only the heartfelt gratitude that beamed in the mother's eyes; while the sweet rose of the barren strand, the playfal Gabriella, daily took firmer root in her heart."

The

Erika had not been above a year on the island, when the good, loving, patient Britta died of grief, assuaged in her last moments by Erika solemnly promising to be a mother to her child. The calm and dignified demeanour of Erika had by this time taken effect even on the rude smugglers. Their language became less coarse and offensive: and, to her own astonishment, she s that by a look she could awe or control the reckless and unruly Birger, who submitted to no other power. divine or human. Even Haraldson was momentarily touched by the death of his patient wife, though every natural affection seemed passed from his mind save an animal, doating fondness for his little daughter. Year rolled on, and this desolate, anxious, and monotonors life became more endurable to Erika. Her sense of duty, and love for her pupil, sweetened her lot: the was of use to her fellow-creatures; and a quiet endurance, a passive acquiescence, in which women, fortunately for themselves, often come to find a substitute for happiness,

reconciled her to her fate.

"Of late, however, she had suffered additional anxiety from a cause she had not hitherto been able to expisin or comprehend; she had discovered that the feeling which held such powerful sway over the mind of Birger was of a nature of which she had had no experience: that it was love could not be doubted; but love, wild and stormy, that inspired terror, although she carefully concealed it. She felt that it was only by calmness and perfect self-possession that she could hope to restrain the fiery tempers that surrounded her."

For some weeks Birger had as anxiously avoided her society as once he had sought it. When she was mud and gentle with him, his nature softened and mellowed: but if cold and reserved, he became gloomy and dar gerous. Such was the position of parties in that was! October night when the smugglers were preparing t put to sea. "Why must they go out to-night ?" thought

"It was Birger's voice. Erika had scarcely power to rise from her chair. More than two years had elapsed since he had stood on the threshold of that room, which had ever been held sacred by all the inmates of the dwelling. What could he mean by this untimely visit? "Are you afraid?' said Birger, while his forced laugh echoed through the empty passage.

"No; why should I be afraid?' answered Erika. Now, what is it you wish, Birger?' was her composed question.

"What I wish, you will, perhaps, know soon enough. Do not be so severe; let me look about me. I have not been here for so long, very long : I did not venture, and did not wish to disturb you, much as I wished to be near you, Mamselle Erika.' He stepped towards the table, on which lay an open Psalm-book, beside Erika's work. Birger bent down and read the lines where her mark was placed :

"The Lord will give His promised aid,

His word is ever sure,

If I in Him do put my trust,

And to the end endure."

"I wish, Mamselle Erika, that I could read these lines with the same devotion and edification as you do.' "Why should you not do so, Birger? If you read the Holy Scriptures more frequently, you would understand them better: you would find in them strength to do right, and defence against temptation; both your heart and mind would be benefited.'

"My heart and mind are both evil, Mamselle Erika: left to myself, my own efforts alone will never make them better.'

"That is indeed true, Birger; and that you acknowledge it is well, and like a Christian; but prayer prayer can do much, and

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'No, not my prayers, Erika!' interrupted Birger, with strong emotion. I might yet become another man, a better man, if, but it is impossible; I was mad, indeed, ever to think that you would consent to marry an unbred fellow like me! Yes, yes, you turn pale; it was a bold thought enough: nevertheless, it is right you should know, Mamselle Erika, that if you could make up your mind to so great a sacrifice, you would have no cause to be ashamed of me. I am resolved at all events to study navigation this winter; and instead of living, as at present, on chance expeditions, I intend to build myself a vessel, and trade in it to Jutland, both as captain and owner; and you should have a house as handsome as you could wish, instead of this rickle, which I shall pull down; and you would be as respectable a housewife as any in these parts.'

"During this long address, which was delivered with considerable self-confidence, Erika had time to recover, in some degree, from her unpleasant surprise. The idea of uniting herself in marriage with such a man as Birger, filled her with horror, while, at the same time, there was something in his manly, energetic, always decided mode of action, that harmonized with her own strong mind. She felt as if she could make any sacrifice for his good, except that of becoming his wife; and she therefore replied with perfect frankness, No, Birger, your proposal I neither can nor will consent to; not because I think myself above you, as you hinted just now; I know too well what I am,--a child of poverty, at least; it may be of guilt, therefore any honest man is good enough for a husband to the poor Erika. But there is another reason, Birger, which you must know, and which, both now and in future, will prevent me from even thinking of agreeing to what you wish. Ever since I came to this place, your wild, and certainly often sinful, manner of life has terrified me. I have always considered you as a man

"I thank you: you are too kind, Mamselle Erika!' said Birger, with haughty bitterness. Permit me also to tell you what it may, perhaps, be worth your while to consider: remember that you have now, at this mo ment, in your hands the destiny of a human being for the present life, and in all likelihood for that which is to come. Erika,' continued he, in a subdued tone of anxious entreaty, 'you are good and pious; you wish to turn the sinner from his evil way. You may do it now; for I solemnly swear, if you will become my wife, I will, from that hour, abandon all such courses as would make me fear to meet your eye; but if you drive me from you, then- -' and his voice resumed its harshness, there is nothing on earth has power to hold me back! Till now I have only been wild and daring; the evil I have done has not really harmed any one; I have committed no crime, except against the laws. But without you, Erika, tortured by the feelings you despise, hating myself and the whole world, the name of Birger Haraldson shall be the terror of the coast, both far and near !' "For the first time in her life Erika stood trembling before the man she had been accustomed to rule by a word or a gesture. An awful responsibility rested on her; she felt her strength giving way, her heart ready to burst with anxiety and dread. Should she sacrifice herself or him?—with him, perhaps, to entail misery on other unhappy beings."

We shall not farther develope what is the cardinal moral blemish of the story: the sacrifice of the life-long happiness of a virtuous being to the imaginary necessity and hope of restraining or reclaiming a vicious and criminal character. At this time Erika stood firm; and when she yielded, it was to a high, if false, principle of duty. Love, neither with its strength nor weakness, prompted her dreadful sacrifice. At parting, the trembling girl replied to the powerful and moody man, who sunk on his knees, begging her to be merciful, "Take my life Birger; but I cannot command my heart."

Birger rose from his knees: his lips were firmly closed, and the muscles of his face worked convulsively. At the door he turned, and said, with mingled grief and bitterness, Farewell, Erika: you must answer before God for all the evil this hour brings with it.'

"No, Birger, no; take back your cruel words. God is just.'

"Yes, God is just and if crime is to be my portion, remorse will be yours.' He closed the door, and descended the stairs with a heavy step."

He was soon on the dark sea with his father and the miserable Anton, whom Haraldson loaded with reproaches for his cowardliness and effeminacy. The smugglers were properly equipped for their expedition; and their packages were stowed away in the boat, which tossed to and fro as if made of paper.

"Haraldson himself took his place at the helm, commending, as he did so, the favourable weather. The foresail and spritsail were set; and when Birger had cast another dark glance at the window, from which a faint light still glimmered, the boat put to sea. It plunged into the dark night, and the huge waves seemed to close over the little speck as it vanished in the gloom."

The

Preparations in another quarter, for a voyage on the same dreadful night, were made. Fifteen miles from Tistelön was a straggling fishing village, in which a number of huts, placed at all manner of angles, formed a rude street. Some cottages, larger and of a better kind, displayed red-painted fronts, and on the gable or projecting porch some ornaments of carved or gilded wood, saved from the wrecks of the many vessels that every year founder in those tempestuous seas. atmosphere of the village had "an ancient and most fishlike smell;" and in poverty it might rival or surpass the most miserable place of the kind within the British dominions, not excepting the Claddagh of Galway. The men keep the sea day and night, while the women remain at home drying the fish and arranging the lines, nets, and tackle, and producing the same innumerable fry of half-naked and wholly ragged children that are