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I proceed on my journey; thou meanest not,' added he with a smile, to deny me the boon which Allah extends to all his creatures? What! still suspicious? Come, then, I will increase thy advantage, and try to win thy confidence.' With that he unbuckled his sword, and threw it, with his matchlock, upon the turf a little way from him. See me now unarmed; wilt thou yet trust me? Who could have doubted longer? I threw down my bow and arrows: Pardon,' cried I, my tardy confidence; but he that has escaped with difficulty from many perils, fears even their shadow: here,' continued I, are bread and salt, eat thou of them; thou art then my guest, and that sacred tie secures the faith of both.' The stranger, with another smile, took the offered food.

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The following passage, describing the Kuzzilbash's return to his native village, affects us both by the view which it gives of the desolations caused in half barbarous countries by war and rapine, and the Deautiful strain of sentiment which the author puts into the mouth of his hero :

We continued for some time longer, riding over a track once fertile and well-cultivated, but now returned to its original desolation. The wild pomegranate, the thorn, and the thistle, grew high in the fields, and overran the walls that formerly enclosed them. At length we reached an open space, occupied by the ruins of a large walled village, among which a square building, with walls of greater height, and towers at each corner, rose particularly conspicuous.

As we approached this place I felt my heart stirred within me, and my whole frame agitated with a secret and indescribable emotion; visions of past events seemed hovering dimly in my memory, but my sensations were too indistinct and too confused to be intelligible to myself. At last a vague idea shot through my brain, and thrilled like a fiery arrow in my heart; with burning cheeks and eager eyes I looked towards my companion, and saw his own bent keenly upon

me.

'Knowest thou this spot, young man?' said he, after a pause if thy memory does not serve thee, cannot thy heart tell thee what walls are these?' I gasped for breath, but could not speak. Yes, Ismael,' continued he, these are the ruined walls of thy father's house; there passed the first days of thy childhood; within that broken tower thy eyes first saw the light! But its courts are now strewed with the unburied dust of thy kindred, and the foxes and wolves of the desert rear their young among its roofless chambers. These are the acts of that tribe to which thou hast so long been in bondage-such is the debt of blood which cries out for thy vengeance!'

I checked my horse to gaze on the scene of my infant years, and my companion seemed willing to indulge me. Is it indeed true, as some sages have taught, that man's good angel hovers over the place of his birth, and dwells with peculiar fondness on the innocent days of his childhood? and that in after years of sorrow and of crime she pours the recollection of those pure and peaceful days like balm over the heart, to soften and improve it by their influence? How could it be, without some agency like this, that, gazing thus unexpectedly on the desolate home of my fathers, the violent passions, the bustle, and the misery of later years, vanished from my mind like a dream; and the scenes and feelings of my childhood came fresh as yesterday to my remembrance? I heard the joyous clamour of my little brothers and sisters; our games, our quarrels, and our reconciliations, were once more present to me; the grave smile of my father, the kind but eternal gabble of my good old nurse; and, above all, the mild sweet voice of my beloved mother, as she adjusted our little disputes, or soothed our childish sorrows-all rushed upon my mind, and for

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Theodore : & Hook

imperfect course of education at Harrow school), he composer; and at the early age of sixteen (after an became a sort of partner in his father's business of music and song. In 1805 he composed a comic opera, The Soldier's Return, the overture and music, self. The opera was highly successful, and young as well as the dialogues and songs, entirely by himTheodore was ready next year with another afterpiece, Catch Him Who Can, which exhibited the talents of Liston and Mathews in a popular and effective light, and had a great run of success. Several musical operas were then produced in rapid succession by Hook, as The Invisible Girl, Music Mad. Darkness Visible, Trial by Jury, The Fortress, Tekeli, Exchange no Robbery, and Killing no Murder. Some of these still keep possession of the stage, and evince wonderful knowledge of dramatic art, musical skill, and literary powers in so young an author. They were followed (1808) by a novel which has been described as a mere farce in a narrative shape. The remarkable conversational talents of Theodore Hook, and his popularity as a writer for the stage, led him much into society. Flushed with success, full of the gaiety and impetuosity of youth, and conscious of his power to please and even fascinate in company, he surrendered himself up to the enjoyment of the passing hour, and became noted for his boisterous buffooneries,' his wild sallies of wit and drollery, and his practical hoaxes.

Amongst his various talents was one which, though

ral years the efficient conductor of a magazinecertainly affords, as the Quarterly Review re marks, sufficient proof that he never sank into idleness. At the same time Theodore Hook was the idol of the fashionable circles, and ran a heedless round of dissipation. Though in the receipt of a large income-probably not less than £3000 per annum-by his writings, he became involved in pecuniary embarrassments; and an unhappy connexion which he had formed, yet dared not avow, entailed upon him the anxieties and responsibilities of a family. Parts of a diary which he kept have been published, and there are passages in it disclos ing his struggles, his alternations of hope and despair, and his ever-deepening distresses and difficulties, which are inexpressibly touching as well as instructive. At length, overwhelmed with diffi culties, his children unprovided for, and himself a victim to disease and exhaustion before he had completed his 53d year, he died at Fulham on the 24th of August 1842.

The works of Theodore Hook are very unequal, and none of them perhaps display the rich and varied powers of his conversation. He was thoroughly acquainted with English life in the higher and middle ranks, and his early familiarity with the stage had taught him the effect of dramatic situations and

familiar in some other countries, whose language affords it facilities, has hitherto been rare, if not unknown in ours, namely the power of improvisatising, or extemporaneous composition of songs and music. Hook would at table turn the whole conversation of the evening into a song, sparkling with puns or witty allusions, and perfect in its rhymes. He accompanied himself (says a writer in the Quarterly Review) on the pianoforte, and the music was frequently, though not always, as new as the verse. He usually stuck to the common ballad measures; but one favourite sport was a mimic opera, and then he seemed to triumph without | effort over every variety of metre and complication of stanza. About the complete extemporaneousness of the whole there could rarely be the slightest doubt.' This power of extempore verse seems to have been the wonder of all Hook's associates; it astonished Sheridan, Coleridge, and the most illustrious of his contemporaries, who used to hang delighted over such rare and unequivocal manifestations of genius. Hook had been introduced to the prince regent, afterwards George IV., and in 1812 he received the appointment of accomptant-general and treasurer to the colony of the Mauritius, with a salary of about £2000 per annum. This handsome provision he enjoyed for five years. The duties of the office were, however, neglected, and an exami-pointed dialogue. The theatre, however, is not nation being made into the books of the accomptant, various irregularities, omissions, and discrepancies were detected. There was a deficiency of about £12,000, and Hook was ordered home under the charge of a detachment of military. Thus a dark cloud hung over him for the remainder of his life; but it is believed that he was in reality innocent of all but gross negligence. On reaching London in 1819, he was subjected to a scrutiny by the Audit Board, which did not terminate until after the lapse of nearly five years. He was then pronounced to be liable to the crown for the deficit of £12.000. In the meantime he laboured assiduously at literature as a profession. He became, in 1820, editor of the John Bull newspaper, which he made conspicuous for its advocacy of high aristocratic principles, some virulent personalities, and much wit and humour. His political songs were generally admired for their point and brilliancy of fancy. In 1823, after the award had been given finding him a debtor to the crown in the sum mentioned, Hook was arrested, and continued nearly two years in confinement. His literary labours went on, however, without interruption, and in 1824 appeared the first series of his tales, entitled Sayings and Doings, which were so well received that the author was made £2000 richer by the production. In 1825 he issued a second series, and shortly after that publication he was released from custody, with an intimation, however, that the crown abandoned nothing of its claim for the Mauritius debt. The popular novelist now pursued his literary career with unabated diligence and spirit. In 1828 he published a third series of Sayings and Doings ;' in 1830, Max-fiction, commenced his literary career in 1819 with well; in 1832, The Life of Sir David Baird; in 1833, a poetical romance entitled Philibert, which was The Parson's Daughter, and Love and Pride. In 1836 smoothly versified, but possessed no great merit. In he became editor of the New Monthly Magazine, and 1823 appeared his Highways and Byways, tales of contributed to its pages, in chapters, Gilbert Gurney, continental wandering and adventure, written in a and the far inferior sequel, Gurney Married, each light, picturesque, and pleasing manner. These were afterwards collected into a set of three volumes. In so well received that the author wrote a second 1837 appeared Jack Brag; in 1839, Births, Deaths, series, published in 1824, and a third in 1827. In and Marriages; Precepts and Practice; and Fathers 1830 he came forth with a novel in four volumes, and Sons. His last avowed work, Peregrine Bunce, The Heiress of Bruges; a Tale of the Year Sixteen supposed not to have been wholly written by him, Hundred. The plot of this work is connected with appeared some months after his death. The pro- the attempts made by the Flemish to emancipate duction of thirty-eight volumes within sixteen themselves from the foreign sway of Spain, in which years the author being all the while editor, and they were assisted by the Dutch, under Prince almost sole writer, of a newspaper, and for seve-Maurice. A power of vivid description and obser

always a good school for taste in composition, and Hook's witty and tragic scenes and contrasts of character are often too violent in tone, and too little discriminated. Hence, though his knowledge of high life was undoubted, and his powers of observation rarely surpassed, his pictures of existing manners seem to wear an air of caricature, imparted insensibly by the peculiar habits and exuberant fancy of the novelist. His pathos is often overdone, and his mirth and joyousness carried into the regions of farce. He is very felicitous in exposing all ridicu lous pretences and absurd affectation, and in such scenes his polished ridicule and the practical sagacity of the man of the world, conversant with its different ranks and artificial distinctions, are strikingly apparent. We may collect from his novels (especially the Sayings and Doings,' which were carefully written) as correct a notion of English society in certain spheres in the nineteenth cen tury, as Fielding's works display of the manners of the eighteenth. To regularity of fable he made little pretension, and we suspect he paid little attention to style. He aimed at delineation of characterat striking scenes and situations-at reflecting the language and habits of actual life—and all this he accomplished, in some of his works, with a success that produced many rivals, but no superior.

THOMAS COLLEY GRATTAN-MR T. H. LISTER-
MARQUIS OF NORMANBY.

THOMAS COLLEY GRATTAN, an Irish writer of

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MR T. H. LISTER, a gentleman of rank and aristocratic connexions, was author of three novels, descriptive of the manners of the higher classes; namely, Granby, 1826; Herbert Lacy, 1827; and Arlington, 1832. These works are pleasingly written, and may be considered as affording correct pictures of domestic society, but they possess no features of novelty or originality to preserve them for another generation. A strain of graceful reflection, in the style of the essays in the Mirror and Lounger, is mingled with the tale, and shows the author to have been a man of refined and cultivated taste and feeling. In 1838 Mr Lister published a Memoir of the Life and Administration of the Earl of Clarendon, in three volumes, a work of considerable talent and research, in preparing which the author had access to documents and papers unknown to his predecessors. Mr Lister died in June 1842, at which time he held the government appointment of Registrar-general of births, marriages, and deaths. The following brief description in 'Granby' may be compared with Mr Wordsworth's noble sonnet composed upon Westminster Bridge.

[London at Sunrise.]

Granby followed them with his eyes; and now, too full of happiness to be accessible to any feelings of jealousy or repining, after a short reverie of the purest satisfaction, he left the ball, and sallied out into the fresh cool air of a summer morning-suddenly passing from the red glare of lamplight to the clear sober brightness of returning day. He walked cheerfully onward, refreshed and exhilarated by the air of morning, and interested with the scene around him. It was broad daylight, and he viewed the town under an aspect in which it is alike presented to the late retiring votary of pleasure, and to the early rising sons of business. He stopped on the pavement of Oxford Street to contemplate the effect. The whole extent of that long vista, unclouded by the mid-day smoke, was distinctly visible to his eye at once. The houses shrunk to half their span, while the few visible spires of the adjacent churches seemed to rise less distant than before, gaily tipped with early sunshine, and much diminished in apparent size, but heightened in distinctness and in beauty. Had it not been for the cool gray tint which slightly mingled with every object, the brightness was almost that of noon. But the life, the bustle, the busy din, the flowing tide of human existence, were all wanting to complete the similitude. hushed and silent; and this mighty receptacle of human beings, which a few short hours would wake into active energy and motion, seemed like a city of the dead.

All was

There was little to break this solemn illusion. Around were the monuments of human exertion, but the hands which formed them were no longer there. Few, if any, were the symptoms of life. No sounds were heard but the heavy creaking of a solitary wagon, the twittering of an occasional sparrow, the monotonous tone of the drowsy watchman, and the distant rattle of the retiring carriage, fading on the ear till it melted into silence: and the eye that searched for living objects fell on nothing but the grim great-coated guardian of the night, muffled up into an appearance of doubtful character between

bear and man, and scarcely distinguishable, by the colour of his dress, from the brown flags along which he sauntered.

Two novels of the same class with those of Mr Lister were written by the present MARQUIS OF NORMANBY; namely, Matilda, published in 1825, and Yes and No, a Tale of the Day, 1827. They were well received by the public, being in taste, correctness of delineation, and general good sense, superior to the ordinary run of fashionable novels.

LADY CAROLINE LAMB-LADY DACRE-COUNTESS OF MORLEY-LADY CHARLOTTE BURY.

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LADY CAROLINE LAMB (1785-1828) was authoress of three works of fiction, which, from extrinsic circumstances, were highly popular in their day. The first, Glenarvon, was published in 1816, and the hero was understood to body forth' the character and sentiments of Lord Byron! It was a representation of the dangers attending a life of fashion. The second, Graham Hamilton, depicted the difficulties and dangers inseparable, even in the most amiable minds, from weakness and irresolution of character. The third, Ada Reis (1823), is a wild Eastern tale, the hero being introduced as the Don Juan of his day, a Georgian by birth, who, like Othello, is sold to slavery,' but rises to honours and distinctions. In the end Ada is condemned, for various misdeeds, to eternal punishment! The history of Lady Caroline Lamb is painfully interesting. She was united, before the age of twenty, to the Honourable William Lamb (now Lord Melbourne), and was long the delight of the fashionable circles, from the singularity as well as the grace of her manners, her literary accomplishments, and personal attractions. On meeting with Lord Byron, she contracted an unfortunate attachment for the noble poet, which continued three years, and was the theme of much remark. The poet is said to have trifled with her feelings, and a rupture took place. For many years Lady Caroline led a life of comparative seclusion, principally at Brocket Hall. This was interrupted by a singular and somewhat romantic occurrence. Riding with Mr Lamb, she met, just by the park-gates, the hearse which was conveying the remains of Lord Byron to Newstead Abbey. She was taken home insensible: an illness of length and severity succeeded. Some of her medical attendants imputed her fits, certainly of great incoherence and long continuance, to partial insanity. At this supposition she was invariably and bitterly indignant. Whatever be the cause, it is certain from that time her conduct and habits materially changed; and about three years before her death a separation took place between her and Mr Lamb, who continued, however, frequently to visit, and, to the day of her death, to correspond with her. It is just to both parties to add, that Lady Caroline constantly spoke of her husband in the highest and most affectionate terms of admiration and respect.'* A romantic susceptibility of temperament and character seems to have been the bane of this unfortunate lady. Her fate illustrates the wisdom of Thomson's advice

Then keep each passion down, however dear,
Trust me, the tender are the most severe.

The Recollections of a Chaperon, 1833, by LADY DACRE, are a series of tales written with taste, feeling, and passion. This lady is, we believe, also authoress of Trevelyan, 1833, a novel which was considered at the time of its publication as the

* Annual Obituary for 1829.

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best feminine novel, in many respects, that had appeared since Miss Edgeworth's Vivian. Among other works of this class may be mentioned the tale of Dacre, 1834, by the COUNTESS OF MORLEY; and several fashionable novels (The_Divorced, Family Records, Love, The Courtier's Daughter, &c.) by LADY CHARLOTTE BURY. This lady is the supposed authoress of a Diary Illustrative of the Times of George IV., a scandalous chronicle, published in 1838. It appears that her ladyship (then Lady Charlotte Campbell) had held an appointment in the household of the Princess of Wales, and during this time she kept a diary, in which she recorded the foibles and failings of the unfortunate princess and other members of the court. The work was strongly condemned by the two leading critical journals-the Edinburgh and Quarterly Review and was received generally with disapprobation.

R. PLUMER WARD.

MR R. PLUMER WARD published in 1825 a singular metaphysical and religious romance entitled Tremaine, or the Man of Refinement. The author's name was not prefixed to his work; and as he alluded to his intimacy with English statesmen and political events, and seemed to belong to the evangelical party in the church, much speculation took place as to the paternity of the novel. The writer was evidently well-bred and intellectual-prone to philosophical and theological disquisitions, but at the same time capable of forcible delineation of character, and the management of natural dialogue and incidents. The prolixity of some of the dissertations and dialogues, where the story stood still for half a volume, that the parties might converse and dispute, rendered Tremaine' somewhat heavy and tedious, in spite of the vigour and originality of talent it displayed. In a subsequent work, De Vere, or the Man of Independence, 1827, the public dwelt with keen interest on a portraiture of Mr Canning, whose career was then about to close in his premature death. The contention in the mind of this illustrious statesman between literary tastes and the pursuits of ambition, is beautifully delineated in one passage which has been often quoted. It represents a conversation between Wentworth (Canning), Sir George Deloraine, a reserved and sentimental man, and Dr Herbert. The occasion of the conversation was Wentworth's having observed Deloraine coming out of Westminster Abbey by the door at Poets' Corner. Meeting at dinner, Sir George is rallied by Wentworth on his taste for the monuments of departed genius; which he defends; and he goes on to add

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"It would do all you men of power good if you were to visit them too; for it would show you how little more than upon a level is often the reputation of the greatest statesman with the fame of those who, by their genius, their philosophy, or love of letters, improve and gladden life even after they are gone.' The whole company saw the force of this remark, and Wentworth not the least among them. You have touched a theme,' said he, which has often engaged me, and others before me, with the keenest interest. I know nothing so calculated as this very reflection to cure us poor political slaves (especially when we feel the tugs we are obliged to sustain) of being dazzled by meteors.' 'Meteors do you call them?' said Dr Herbert. 'Men do not run after meteors with such rapid and persevering steps as you great people pursue ambition.' I grant you,' returned his friend; and if we did not think them something better, who would give himself [q. themselves] up to such labour, such invasions of their privacy and

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leisure, as we are forced to undergo? What is it, then, that so seduces you?' 'A little intoxication," returned Mr Wentworth, laughing off a subject which he did not wish carried too far; for which you philosophers say we ought to be whipped, and for which whipped we often are. Those, however, who want this whipping would do well to take Sir George's advice, and visit the shrines of the mighty dead. They would see how inferior most of themselves are in present estimation to beings who, when alive, could not, in splendour at least, compare with them. I have too often made the reflection, and was not the happier for it.' 'You cannot be serious,' said the divine; since who are such real benefactors to mankind as enlightened legislators and patriot warriors! What poet, I had almost said what philosopher, can stand in competition with the founder or defender of his country?" Ask your own Homer, your own Shakspeare,' answered Wentworth, forgetting his ambition for a moment in his love of letters. 'You take me in my weak part,' said Herbert, and the however, that but for the Solons, the Romuluses, the subject would carry us too far. I would remark, Charlemagnes, and Alfreds, we should have no Homer favourite theme,' said the minister, and you know or Shakspeare to charm us.' I know this is your how much agree with you. But this is not precisely the question raised by Sir George; which is, the superiority in the temple of fame enjoyed by men distinguished for their efforts in song or history (but who might have been mere beggars when alive) over those who flaunted it superciliously over them in a pomp and pride which are now absolutely forgotten. I will have nothing to do with supercilious flaunters, replied Herbert; 'I speak of the liberal, the patriotic, who seek power for the true uses of power, in order to diffuse blessing and protection all around them. These can never fail to be deservedly applauded; and I honour such ambition as of infinitely more real consequence to the world than those whose works (how ever I may love them in private) can, from the mere nature of things, be comparatively known only to a few.' All that is most true,' said Mr Wentworth ; and for a while public men of the description you mention fill a larger space in the eye of mankind; that is, of contemporary mankind. But extinguish their power, no matter by what means, whether by losing favour at court, or being turned out by the country, to both which they are alike subject; let death forcibly remove them, or a queen die, and their light, like Bolingbroke's, goes out of itself; their influence is certainly gone, and where is even their reputation? It may glimmer for a minute, like the dying flame of a taper, after which they soon cease to be mentioned, perhaps even remembered.' 'Surely, said the doctor, this is too much in extremes.' 'And yet,' continued Wentworth, have we not all heard of a maxim appalling to all lovers of political fame, "that nobody is missed?" Alas! then, are we not compelled to burst out with the poet :

·

"What boots it with incessant care,

To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade,
And strictly meditate the thankless muse?
Were it not better done, as others use,
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?"'

Both Sir George and De Vere kindled at this; and
the doctor himself smiled, when the minister pro-
ceeded. In short,' said he, when a statesman, or
even a conqueror is departed, it depends upon the
happier poet or philosophic historian to make even
his name known to posterity; while the historian or
poet acquires immortality for himself in conferring
upon his heroes an inferior existence.' • Inferior
existence !' exclaimed Herbert.
'Yes; for look at

Plutarch, and ask which are most esteemed, himself or those he records? Look at the old Claudii and Manlii of Livy; or the characters in Tacitus; or Mecenas, Agrippa, or Augustus himself-princes, emperors, ministers, esteemed by contemporaries as gods! Fancy their splendour in the eye of the multitude while the multitude followed them! Look at them now! Spite even of their beautiful historians, we have often difficulty in rummaging out their old names; while those who wrote or sang of them live before our eyes. The benefits they conferred passed in a minute, while the compositions that record them last for ever.' Mr Wentworth's energy moved his hearers, and even Herbert, who was too classical not to be shaken by these arguments. Still, however,' said the latter, we admire, and even wish to emulate Camillus, and Miltiades, and Alexander; a Sully and a Clarendon.' 'Add a Lord Burleigh,' replied the minister, who, in reference to Spenser, thought a hundred pounds an immense sum for a song! Which is now most thought of, or most loved?-the calculating minister or the poor poet? the puissant treasurer or he who was left "in suing long to bide?" Sir George and De Vere, considering the quarter whence it came, were delighted with this question. The doctor was silent, and seemed to wish his great friend to go on. He proceeded thus-I might make the same question as to Horace and Mecænas; and yet, I daresay, Horace was as proud of being taken in Mecænas's coach to the Capitol as the dean of St Patricks in Oxford's or Bolingbroke's to Windsor. Yet Oxford is even now chiefly remembered through that very dean, and so perhaps would Bolingbroke, but that he is an author, and a very considerable one himself. We may recollect,' continued he,' the manner in which Whitelocke mentions Milton-that "one Milton, a blind man," was made secretary to Cromwell. Whitelocke was then the first subject in the state, and lived in all the pomp of the seals, and all the splendour of Bulstrode; while the blind man waked at early morn to listen to the lark bidding him good-morrow at his cottage window. Where is the lord-keeper now?

where the blind man? What is known of Addison as secretary of state? and how can his excellency compare with the man who charms us so exquisitely in his writings? When I have visited his interesting house at Bilton, in Warwickshire, sat in his very study, and read his very books, no words can describe my emotions. I breathe his official atmosphere here, but without thinking of him at all. In short, there is this delightful superiority in literary over political fame, that the one, to say the best of it, stalks in cold grandeur upon stilts, like a French tragedy actor, while the other winds itself into our warm hearts, and is hugged there with all the affection of a friend and all the admiration of a lover.' Hear! hear!' cried Sir George, which was echoed by De Vere and Herbert himself.

De Clifford, or the Constant Man, produced in 1841, is also a tale of actual life; and as the hero is at one time secretary to a cabinet minister, Mr Ward revels in official details, rivalries, and intrigue. In 1844 our author produced Chatsworth, or the Romance of a Week.

BENJAMIN D'ISRAELI.

MR BENJAMIN D'ISRAELI, M. P., son of the venerable author of the Curiosities of Literature, composed a novel of the same class as Mr Ward's, which also puzzled the busy idlers of literature and fashion. Vivian Grey, two volumes, 1826, and continued in three more volumes in the following year, is a work of irregular imaginative talent, of little or no plot, but presenting views of society and character without

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Manners of the Americans was published, and excited much attention. She drew so severe a picture of American faults and foibles of their want of delicacy, their affectations, drinking, coarse selfishness, and ridiculous peculiarities-that the whole nation was incensed at their English satirist. There is much exaggeration in Mrs Trollope's sketches; but having truth for their foundation, her book is supposed to have had some effect in reforming the 'minor morals' and social habits of the Americans.

The same year our authoress continued her satiric portraits in a novel entitled The Refugee in America, marked by the same traits as her former work, but exhibiting little art or talent in the construction of a fable. Mrs Trollope now tried new ground. In 1834 she published Belgium and Western Germany in 1833, countries where she found much more to gratify and interest her than in America, and where she travelled in generally good humour. The only serious evil which Mrs Trollope seems to have encountered in Germany was the tobacco-smoke, which she vituperates with unwearied perseverance. In 1837 she presented another novel, The Vicar of Wrexhill, an able and entertaining work, full of prejudices, but containing some excellent painting of manners and eccentricities. In 1838 our authoress appears again as a traveller. Vienna and the Austrians was of the same cast as Belgium and Germany,' but more deformed by prejudice. This journey also afforded Mrs Trollope materials for a novel, which she entitled A Romance of Vienna. Three novels were the fruit of 1839; namely, The Widow Barnaby, a highly amusing work, particularly the delineation of the bustling, scheming, unprincipled husband

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