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and his compar at the miracia forth from daughter of

462 Hos og bi thy sales de ce wever, after convincing Art. XII. - Third Series of the Munna wa sends him with a letter

at their next meeting, learns Ambition. By the author of in ders and Otley. London

lover, like a second Romeo, re2. Laurie Todd: or th

of his mistress in the tomb; and, F.A.S.. &c., &c. ?

C repairs to the lonely church-yard, 3. The Country Co

is the lid of the coffin, and takes from 8vo. Colburn

ne delirium of the moment, he madly de

corse thence to an abandoned hut, in the 3. Tales of a F London.

Fusted in body and mind, he feels unable to

vilion, till, opportunely finding, outside the wall 5. The Los'

a man with a horse and car, (who, it afterwards These waiting there for some body-snatcher), he tricks table,

io a belief that he is the person who employed him; wou'

himself and his inanimate load into the vehicle, they w the

to the hut. Here, in the course of the night, the lover ompanion are overwhelmed with wonder and thankfulness miracle of Esther's resuscitation. Like Juliet, she is brought "from the tomb to live again; but more fortunate than the "hter of Capulet, Esther revives in the arms of a living and

liby lover. The transition from a grave to the bridal couch, in the necessary destiny of the heroine. Some time after this, Riordon, in one of his evening walks, meets his rival, Lacy, who, having some scent of his being in the country, is in pursuit of him; a fierce personal struggle ensues, which ends by Riordon flinging his enemy over a precipice. An hour or so afterwards, Lacy is brought, wounded, and apparently dying, to the cottage of Rior. dan, where he is accommodated with a room ; and the owner, to avoid the instigation of his own murderous thoughts, leaves home, and wanders about the hills. In his absence, Esther, who had before enacted, so unexceptionably according to nature, the part of a corpse, now undertakes that of a ghost, and converses with Lacyin good set terms, and in her quality of supernatural visitor, during what the French would call, and with reason, un bon quart d'heure, which, in plain English, is equivalent to a full half hour. This scene is out of all bearing and probability, and cannot be swallowed by the most credulous and open-mouthed of romance readers. To pursue the story any further in detail, would be írksome ; suffice it to say, that Lacy leaves the cottage ; is cured of his wound ; is baffled, in his personal as well as political projects, by Riordon, and at length retires from public life, with broken spirits and crushed hopes. After an interview with Esther, on a siimmer evening, in which she gives him a world of good advice, Lacy retires home; and, instead of adopting (which is seldom the case) this wholesome counsel, he becomes moody, morose, and melancholy, and, before the end of the year, sets out for the world to come. It will be evident to our readers, from this brief, but not unfaithful, outline, that the merit of this tale is not in the plot. Upon this there is a great deal to say, and much of that so obvious

love big is out of English, is and with reasons

rould not have escaped the author ; and we are, therefore, surprised that he should not have eschewed the temptamerits of this composition,—and great they are, we take in acknowledging,--are to be found in the detached

ish low life. Here our author is pre-eminent, and shows • and mind of a master. Like the giant of mythology, he is gest. when nearest his parent earth ; his peasant scenes are wiwitable; their dress,' manners, and deportment are fac similes from reality ; their feelings and emotions are warm transcripts from life; and their conversation, eloquence, wit, and humour as faithfully reported, as if they had been taken down in short hand, from the lips of the speakers. In the delineation of the classes above the peasantry and those of middle life, the author, though often successful, is not so invariably excellent. In the description of these, there are, no doubt, many strong and vigorous touches, and much of individual and local colouring ; but there is, also, observable a lamentable want of keeping, or consistency of character, We proceed to the second tale, entitled “Tracy's Ambition. Into the details of this story we cannot at present enter, nor, indeed; would it be either edifiying or amusing, and it has little or nothing of continuity of interest, and by no means an intelligible succession of events. It is like what the French call une piéce à tiroir,—that is, like a curious cabinet ; it contains, in separate drawers, many things that are rare and precious, but there is wanting that general symmetry, that fusion of parts, and uniform har. mony of proportion, without which, as a whole, it must want charm and interest. The tale is given in shape of an auto-biography of the hero Tracy, a comfortable, but not very wealthy farmer, in one of the western counties of Ireland. Poor Tracy sacrifices the una ostentatious, but heartfelt happiness of his family, the affection of his dependents, and of the surrounding peasantry, together with his own self-respect and contentment, to the delusive hopes of advancement and influence, held out to him by a crafty, ambitious, and designing neighbour, a Mr. Dalton. This latter is a more largely-developed and vigorously traced portrait of the same noxious animal as that exhibited in the Lacy of the former tale. For the ability with which he has described, and the strong and glowing colours in which he has painted this prototype of that deadly and loathsome species of reptile which so long fattened and flourished in the festering life-blood of Ireland, the author deserves the most unqualified eulogy. The portraits of his subaltern friends, the informers, swearers, decoy-men, and betrayers of the deluded peasantry,—are given with true and frightful energy. We can pursue the details of this story no farther than to state, that Tracy is cheated out of a sum of money, the loss of which is sufficient to ruin him, by his false friend, Dalton ; his wife falls a victim to the fury of the insurgent peasantry, in an attack directed against himself; and he sinks down into an almost broken-hearted man. In the concluding pages, however, he is relieved from his difficulties

the poore he is still of land from himover, like a secene tomb

the poor man almost out of his wits. However, after convincing him that he is still of this world, Riordon sends him with a letter to his beloved Esther, and from him, at their next meeting, learns her fatal catastrophe. The forlorn lover, like a second Romeo, resolves to visit all that remains of his mistress in the tomb; and, accompanied by Lenigan, he repairs to the lonely church-yard, breaks open the vault, forces the lid of the coffin, and takes from it his buried love. In the delirium of the moment, he madly determines to bear the corse thence to an abandoned hut, in the mountains; but, exhausted in body and mind, he feels unable to prosecute his intention, till, opportunely finding, outside the wall of the cemetry, a man with a horse and car, (who, it afterwards turns out, was waiting there for some body-snatcher), he tricks the carman into a belief that he is the person who employed him; and, throwing himself and his inanimate load into the vehicle, they are borne to the hut. Here, in the course of the night, the lover and his companion are overwhelmed with wonder and thankfulness at the miracle of Esther's resuscitation. Like Juliet, she is brought forth from the tomb to live again; but more fortunate than the daughter of Capulet, Esther revives in the arms of a living and healthy lover. The transition from a grave to the bridal couch, is the necessary destiny of the heroine. Some time after this, Riordon, in one of his evening walks, meets his rival, Lacy, who, having some scent of his being in the country, is in pursuit of him; a fierce personal struggle ensues, which ends by Riordon flinging his enemy over a precipice. An hour or so afterwards, Lacy is brought, wounded, and apparently dying, to the cottage of Riordan, where he is accommodated with a room ; and the owner, to avoid the instigation of his own murderous thoughts, leaves home, and wanders about the hills. In his absence, Esther, who had before enacted, so unexceptionably according to nature, the part of a corpse, now undertakes that of a ghost, and converses with Lacyin good set terms, and in her quality of supernatural visitor, during what the French would call, and with reason, un bon quart d'heure, which, in plain English, is equivalent to a full half hour. This scene is out of all bearing and probability, and cannot be swallowed by the most credulous and open-mouthed of romance readers. To pursue the story any further in detail, would be irksome; suffice it to say, that Lacy leaves the cottage ; is cured of his wound ; is baffled, in his personal as well as political projects, by Riordon, and at length retires from public life, with broken spirits and crushed hopes. After an interview with Esther, on a summer evening, in which she gives him a world of good advice, Lacy retires home; and, instead of adopting (which is seldom the case) this wholesome counsel, he becomes moody, morose, and melancholy, and, before the end of the year, sets out for the world to come. It will be evident to our readers, from this brief, but not unfaithful, outline, that the merit of this tale is not in the plot. Upon this there is a great deal to say, and much of that so obvious,

that it could not have escaped the author ; and we are, therefore, the more surprised that he should not have eschewed the temptation. The merits of this composition,-and great they are, we take a pleasure in acknowledging, are to be found in the detached scenes of Irish low life. Here our author is pre-eminent, and shows the hand and mind of a master. Like the giant of mythology, he is strongest when nearest his parent earth; his peasant scenes are inimitable; their dress, manners, and deportment are fac similes from reality ; their feelings and emotions are warm transcripts from life ; and their conversation, eloquence, wit, and humour as faithfully reported, as if they had been taken down in short hand, from the lips of the speakers. In the delineation of the classes above the peasantry and those of middle life, the author, though often successful, is not so invariably excellent. In the description of these, there are, no doubt, many strong and vigorous touches, and much of individual and local colouring ; but there is, also, observable a lamentable want of keeping, or consistency of character, We proceed to the second tale, entitled “Tracy's Ambition. Into the details of this story we cannot at present enter, nor, indeed, would it be either edifiying or amusing, and it has little or nothing of continuity of interest, and by no means an intelligible succession of events. It is like what the French call une piéce à tiroir,—that is, like a curious cabinet ; it contains, in separate drawers, many things that are rare and precious, but there is wanting that general symmetry, that fusion of parts, and uniform harmony of proportion, without which, as a whole, it must want charm and interest. The tale is given in shape of an auto-biography of the hero Tracy, a comfortable, but not very wealthy farmer; in one of the western counties of Ireland. Poor Tracy sacrifices the unostentatious, but heartfelt happiness of his family, the affection of his dependents, and of the surrounding peasantry, together with his own self-respect and contentment, to the delusive hopes of advancement and influence, held out to him by a crafty, ambitious, and desigoing neighbour, a Mr. Dalton. This latter is a more largely-developed and vigorously traced portrait of the same noxious animal as that exhibited in the Lacy of the former tale. For the ability with which he has described, and the strong and glowing colours in which he has painted this prototype of that deadly and loathsome species of reptile which so long fattened and flourished in the festering life-blood of Ireland, the author deserves the most unqualified eulogy. The portraits of his subaltern friends,-the informers, swearers, decoy-men, and betrayers of the deluded peasantry,—are given with true and frightful energy. We can pursue the details of this story no farther than to state, that Tracy is cheated out of a sum of money, the loss of which is sufficient to ruin him, by his false friend, Dalton; his wife falls a victim to the fury of the insurgent peasantry, in an attack directed against himself; and he sinks down into an almost broken-hearted man. In the concluding pages, however, he is relieved from his difficulties by the réturn of a wealthy brother-in-law from India, and poetical justice is done upon Dalton, the arch villain of the plot. Before closing these remarks, we shall give some instances of that want of sustained consistency, or keeping of character, sometimes observable in these volumes. Tracy, a simple-minded, and but ordinarily educated farmer, in one passage of his auto-biography, with most preposterous magniloquence, thus expresses himself: Ambi- ! tion is said to be the passion of advanced years. But when it does awake, it acts upon the soul like the waters of the fabled fountain of Bimini, re-kindling faded energies and aspirations, and renewing the old man's youth like the eagle's.” Now, we would venture a temperate wager, that no farmer, “ great or small,” in all Ireland, and the Isle of Man to boot, ever heard of the fountain of Bimini, and its youth-renewing waters. Indeed, we doubt that, even amongst the country gentlemen of the sister island, (perhaps we might go farther,) there could be found one to whom a question relative to the said fountain of Bimini! would not prove a downright poser. The other example is, where Tracy, meaning to say that, on a certain fast day, he put neither milk in his tea, nor butter on his bread, thus expresses himself in the following ludicrously affected phraseology, worthy alone of a third or fourth-rate pretender to literature, in the polished meridian of the Minories or of Whitechapel :- I joined in observing the abstinences of the vigil, by forbearing to qualify the acerbity of the 'narcotic with a spoonful of cream, or to increase the pinguifying influence of the bread by the addition of butter!!!'. Apollo, in his mercy, deliver us from such declamatory farmers as these!

Such are the vices into which negligence betrays the ablest pen. It is not in anger, so much as in sorrow, that we note these hallu. cinations of a man of genius and great promise, who, if he remain only stationary in the ranks of literature, and do not attain a place in its most eminent class, has only himself to blame.

We hardly remember through what it was, except through the gin and beer smelling criticisms of old Blackwood's Magazine, that Mr. John Galt ever became known on this side of the Tweed. His language can only be understood amongst the wildest Covenanters of Scotland, and if they can be pleased with the peculiarly lethargie current of his ideas, they, of course, are at liberty to please themselves. But we, who are not Covenanters, do hereby sincerely declare, that with the exception of Blackwood's last double number of childish reviews and drowsy tales, and ideotic politics, we have not recently seen any thing so utterly and totally stupid, as Laurie Todd. * The very name' is prosy, and empty. The apparent object of the tale is to attract settlers to Canada, where it seems the author has been engaged for some time, in superintending some public work. But the effect of the narrative, if it were much read, of which there is little chance, would be to deter emigrants from directing their prows towards a quarter of the globe, where they might be likely to meet with such a horrible bore as Laurie Todd.

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