of events, is not drowned; the Hungarian officer does not die; and the former returns to his house just as old Pemberton is making a speech in return for the honours of his health and prosperity (in his relative's shoes) having been proposed.

In due time Miss Derwent marries Lewis Pemberton, the good Parson, and Clarice acknowledges her love for her kind guardian, giving, we trust, undeniable evidence thereof, by becoming his wife; and so the work ends, just as the reader imagines it will end, which is highly satisfactory to his powers of perception. And the end thereof is the best part.

It is impossible to resist one quotation from this remarkable work, inasmuch as it is a lively bit of domestic painting; not exactly still life, but something like it; and not precisely a Dutch, but an English interior. In fact, it may be justly described as the art of waking a gentleman when the house is disturbed by robbers. At present we will term it

CLARICE AND THE SLEEPY UNCLE.

Clarice did not hesitate. She regretted that she had not thought of it sooner. In Laura's place-since her friend was unequal to encountering any alarm-she resolved to waken this determined sleeper; and, without feeling any apprehension, she mounted the stairs again, with Reynolds following at a short distance, and knocked, He

as a preliminary measure, at Sir Frederick's door.

did not speak, and there was no time to lose. She was obliged to go in.

As Clarice stepped over the threshold she felt extremely timid. She hoped Sir Frederick Derwent would not be displeased at the liberty she was taking, and was half inclined to draw back; but the butler looked at her imploringly, and she did not like to expose the old man's grey hairs to a danger which he evidently feared to proToke. Sir Frederick Derwent was very sound asleep, after the fatigues of the day. She called to him twice,

but he did not hear or answer.

The room was a large and commodious one, as it behoved to be, seeing that it belonged to the master of the mansion. A thick carpet would have muffled the sound of heavier footsteps than those of Clarice, as she lightly crossed the floor. The curtains were drawn in front of the windows, excluding the glare of the lightning; and the rain did not come flooding against them. A lamp was burning on a table, near the centre of the apartment. Clarice made another attempt to rouse him, as she stood at the foot of the bed; but Il Burbero Benefico neither stirred nor spoke. He looked the very image of comfortable repose; so sound asleep that his countenance seemed more youthful than when he was awake, its expression was so serenely placid. One arm lay on the coverlid, and the dreaded pistols, if he extended it in the very slightest degree, were immediately within his grasp, on a table by the side of the very comfortable-looking, antique, and curiously-carved four-post bedstead.

Seeing that her voice did not reach his slumbering faculties, Clarice went to the side of the couch, and touched his hand, not without some trepidation as to the consequences. It did not clasp the murderous weapons near him; but the fingers closed upon her own. Still Sir Frederick Derwent did not awaken from his lethargy. For a moment she was at a loss how to proceed; but another shot in the park startled her into more energetic measures. The man, in some way or other, must be awakened. It was impossible to stand on ceremony. She withdrew her hand-not, of course, caring whether

the action roused him--and resolved to shake her friend's lazy uncle slightly by the shoulder. Even this was not enough. Sir Frederick was disturbed, but not restored to consciousness. He turned a little more towards her, and, by the movement, imprisoned the fair fingers which had been so imperatively laid upon his arm.

Clarice was quite provoked with him. She called loudly in his ear that the whole family were being murdered, and wanted his assistance. This summons had the desired effect. Sir Frederick started up, and, in so doing, released her hand, opened his eyes with less difficulty than she had anticipated, and looked at her. He seemed to find some time necessary to make him comprehend what was amiss. No wonder, when thus suddenly awakened from such profound slumber. He took her hand again, and praised her courage. It was a good thought of Reynolds's to send a lady to waken a sleeping man. He scarcely knew what would have been the consequence if he had seen any thing wearing the masculine form standing at his bedside; but she was in no danger from the pistols.

Clarice now drew back, and called in the old man to tell his story. She heard Sir Frederick speak to him kindly. He did not seem angry with him for his timidity. Her errand thus satisfactorily performed, she went back to her apartment. A very short time passed before Sir Frederick issued from his chamber, and she saw him, with several of the servants, but as noiselessly as possible, take his way through the shrubberies, in the direction of the keeper's lodge.

Before a writer sits down seriously to go through the very laborious work of penning some hundreds of pages of MS. it would be as well to consider whether there is any especial feature to be introduced into the narrative which will spoil the whole tale, be it written never so well, and the plot constructed never so cleverly. In the work before us this fault stands forth in most disagreeable relief. How is it possible for the reader to feel ordinary interest in the loves of a middle-aged commonplace gentleman and of a young girl, especially when the portrait of the former is presented to us in such an outline as the following

THE HERO OF THE NOVEL.

Sir Frederick Derwent was a fine-looking, middle-aged man, with hair inclining to grey, and a countenance denial. Its expression was frank and jovial: his manner which had not a single line about it that told of selfcareless and free. He was a person of whom it might with perfect truth be said, that no one knew better how to behave like a gentleman. Perhaps this mode of expression implies that there are occasions when the individual on whom this equivocal praise is bestowed does not take the trouble to keep up the character.

On the present emergency his behaviour was quite unpanion the moment he perceived that Clarice was pretty exceptionable. He kissed both his niece and her comenough to merit the honour; and most emphatically weldid him great service in the eyes of his niece, came over comed them to his house. A re-action of feeling, which him as he looked at her deep mourning and fast-flowing tears. He could not at all recover himself until he had hastily poured out a glass of sherry from a decanter on

the table in the hall.

There really ought to be an Act for the suppression of puerility of this kind, and the offence of publishing it should be made punishable before some grave literary Prætor.

Zorndorff became uneasy. Heaven's sake speak to me.'

"Cyrilla-my love-for

But she only gazed at her tormentor with quivering lips. "You are alarmed-shocked-" he continued, "and must have time to consider this proposal. Remember I do not ask you to commit a crime, I only entreat you to fulfil a duty. See, at your feet I entreat-implore you to consent-implore when I might-command."

Although strongly impressed with the idea that she still clung to him with undiminished affection, the expression of her face, as she struggled to release her hand from his, had something so very like abhorrence, that he started up, and some violent explosion of passion might have ensued, had she not murmured the word "Margaret" as she turned to leave him.

"Bestow your compassion on me rather than on her," he said bitterly; "she aided and abetted in the most infamous imposition that ever was practised on man! Stay, Cyrilla, and hear all my misery!"

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"No-my own portion is enough for me," she answered, sighing deeply; "our conference is at an end, and I shall never demand another."

"Then you must hear me now," cried Zorndorff vehemently. "Margaret has imposed on me-deceived metalked of her nerves-pretended somnambulism-all to prevent my discovering, or even suspecting, the real nature of her disease, until it was too late. Her physician, too, was in the plot, and never even hinted that fits of the most frightful description have been hereditary in her family for many generations!"

"Fits!"

No, no, no, no-never-never!" screamed a voice from the conservatory, and, with a harsh horrid cry of anguish, Margaret rushed into the room. The ghastliness of her appearance was greatly increased by her balldress with its artificial flowers, and she seemed to feel this herself, for she tore the lilies from her hair with frantic gesticulations, flung them on the ground, and stamped her foot upon them.

Cyrilla thought her mad, and endeavoured to move unperceived towards the door; but Margaret sprang after her, and with a strength that seemed supernatural, held her arm, while she gasped out the words, "He . . . . that man there, is false, Cyrilla-false-you know it as well -no, not so well as I do now! But I loved him—0, so devotedly, that had I known the nature of my illness, I call Heaven to witness, had I known it, I should never

have been his wife!"

With passionate gestures, and breathless eagerness, she continued rapidly: "At no period of our acquaintance did I endeavour to deceive him in any way. He knew that I was wretchedly unhealthy-every one knew it; but from a mistaken notion of kindness or consideration, no one ever mentioned the word epilepsy before me. I now understand it all; it was for this reason that my father made me promise never to dismiss Vica, who has been with me from my infancy. It was fits of this kind that wore out my brother and brought him to an early grave, and it is this which is now to make me an idiot! Here she released Cyrilla's arm, shuddered, and, looking wildly round her, advanced a few steps nearer Zorndorff, and said, "You love riches and luxury, Edouard-they are even dearer to you than honour. I would not deprive you of them if I could-but all I have is yours. Is it not so? Was not that the purport of the paper I signed a few days after my father's death? Even that did not enlighten me. I was an idiot even then, Edouard; but for the short remainder of my life you will give me a pittance to secure me from want, for I-cannot workyou know."

"Good Heavens, Margaret, what do you mean?" exclaimed Zorndorff, in a voice stifled by contending

emotions.

"I mean to leave you-for ever. After what I have

heard this night, what else can I do? Your house is no longer mine; but God is merciful, and will provide me a place where I may hide my wretchedness from the eyes of the world."

She was evidently in a state of desperate excitement as she pronounced these words, and perceptibly staggered while endeavouring to reach one of the glass doors that opened into the garden.

Margaret, where are you going? Listen to me. Let me explain-" cried Zorndorff, while he placed himself before her, endeavouring to prevent her from falling; but, as he touched her, she sprang from him, with a long loud piercing scream, and throwing her arms round Cyrilla, clung to her convulsively. Melanie, alarmed by the unexpected shriek, made violent and ineffectual efforts to enter the room. Zorndorff strode towards Cyrilla, and casting a look of horror on his wife, tried to remove her. She writhed as if in agony, breathed quickly, gasped, moaned, sobbed, and when at length her head was raised, the paleness of death was on her features, as they worked in hideous convulsions. The rolling of the sightless eyes, the audible grinding of the teeth, the white foam that gathered round the parted lips, shocked Cyrilla beyond measure. She had never seen any one in a similar state; and though compassion at first induced her to repel Zorndorff's attempts to relieve her, and she tried as well as she could to support the suffering woman, who seemed to have sought her protection; yet, on perceiving that total unconsciousness had commenced, she endeavoured to assist him. One hand had closed on her arm with a grasp of iron, and he gently, yet firmly, drew up one by one the convulsed fingers, letting the hand close of itself in a manner probably well known to him; but the long emaciated fingers of the other, on being less carefully, though with great difficulty, extricated from Cyrilla's hair, fell on the shoulder nearest them, and in a moment the nails were buried in the flesh; every effort to remove them causing long scratches, from which the blood flowed. Cyrilla recoiled, and though no sound escaped her lips, she unintentionally betrayed some impatience and pain, as, in self-defence, she pulled the offending hand. Zorndorff became exasperated-furious. He used force-angry force,-dragged back the fingers, -and when at last the hand was in his, flung it so violently from him, that the unhappy woman fell heavily to the ground, where the convulsions subsided by degrees into a more than deathlike rigidity.

“I have murdered her," he said gloomily, as he raised the lifeless form, and placed it on a sofa; and while Cyrilla sprang to the door to admit Melanie tears of remorse gushed plentifully from his eyes.

Melanie was more annoyed than surprised to find her niece in the room. The scream had made known to her the disagreeable interruption of the important interview; but so unconscious was she that any thing more than a common attack of epilepsy had taken place, that she unlocked the doors, admitted fresh air through the windows, rang the bell, and felt Margaret's pulse with perfect composure.

"Doctor Hurtig and Vica," she said calmly to the servant, who instantly appeared. And when directly afterwards the latter entered the room, she turned to Cyrilla, and scarcely looking at her, observed, "We must return to the ball-room, it will never do if we are all absent-I hope we have not been missed."

And Cyrilla followed her into the adjoining room in silence; but there, throwing herself into the nearest chair, she burst into a passion of tears.

It was only then that Melanie perceived her sister's crushed dress, disordered hair, and bleeding shoulder; she stopped and looked at her with an expression of amazement and inquiry.

"Margaret overheard-all-" said Cyrilla; but tears choked her utterance, and further explanation was then impossible.

When the Ratcliffe school of novelists was

in the ascendant, in the time of red-heels and periwigs, one of their productions commenced with the following exquisite specimen of an anti-climax :-"It was not without some emotion that Arabella (for such was the name of the heroine) beheld forty niches, and in each niche a robber with his sword drawn." Just in the same way the most terrific scenes occur in Cyrilla, and the horror which might be supposed to strike people dumb evaporates with a burst of passionate tears," or, as our authoress writes when describing the effects of one of the most awful fits that afflict humanity, and that too in the presence of the bigamist and his victim," the rolling of the sightless eyes, the audible grinding of the teeth, the white foam that gathered around the parting lips "what terrific effect follows! does it make poor Cyrilla's senses reel and utterly prostrate her? not at all,-only "shocked her beyond measure!" So we should suppose! But the pathos of the work is not its only demerit, for expressions of bad taste offend the reader continually. Amongst the Germans, in good society, it is not usual for refined young ladies to utter such an expression as, "No one, I am sure, would imagine that that civil housemaid of my aunt's shoved half a tree in its gaping mouth." Nor would a young gentleman of good breeding, in any Prussian or Austrian society, make constant use of the word "infernal" before ladies.

To turn from a subject so unpleasant, here is a little scene characteristic enough, but at which we can fancy the shade of some Teutonic ancestor of the actors in the pastime, looking on, in the invisibility of a phantom, smiling grimly, or may be sadly, like Dante watching the floating form of Francesca di Rimmini in the infernal regions. Conceive the jousts and tilting of the middle ages degenerating into

THE CHALKED HAND.

Under Klemmhein's directions a tolerably large space was enclosed, and the spectators retired to a clump of oaks, and seated themselves on garden-chairs, campstools, and benches; crowds of servants, under pretence of assisting, hurried to and fro. The officers, whose arrival had been the incentive to all these proceedings, again mounted, and took up their stations at different parts of the barriers; the President advanced, his eyes fixed intently on his watch, and followed by a servant carrying a folded flag, and at the same moment three

horses were led forward. Rupert, Klemmhein, and Stauffen, after exchanging some gestures of mock defiance, advanced to meet them; laughingly, but with unusual attention, they examined girths, bit, and bridle, drew on their gloves, vaulted lightly into their saddles, and extended their right hands to be chalked. Rupert could not resist the temptation to try his on the shoulder quantity on his master's glove, with the laudable intenof the groom, who had evidently bestowed a double tion of making his victory notorious: nothing could be more perfect than the impression of the sprawling hand; nothing more exhilarating than the shout of laughter that

followed.

The President gave the signal, and they all pressed eagerly forward; even in doing so, there was something characteristic in their manner. Klemmhein was daring and thoughtless, Rupert agile and dexterous, Stauffen steady and wary; and these qualities they exhibited unremittingly as they chased each other round the enclosed space, endeavouring to keep close to the fence, where the left shoulders were safe from their opponents, and their right hands ready to descend should opportu nity offer. Unceasing were the impetuous charges made by Klemmhein to obtain this envied position, but Stauffen's horse invariably reared to save his rider from the intended blow; and Rupert not unfrequently threw himself completely on the other side of his, and laughed merrily as Klemmhein's hand waved violently and fruitlessly in the air above him. One or two narrow escapes at length made Rupert in earnest and Stauffen determined; unconsciously they made common cause against their impetuous adversary, and after the following encounter Klemmhein bore the mark of defeat on his jacket. Rendered desperate by having nothing more to lose, he dashed after Stauffen, who, in his endeavours to escape him, received the dreaded mark from Rupert, while passing him in full career. From that moment the interest of the spectators increased visibly; they pressed towards the barriers, and unreservedly bestowed all their anxiety on Rupert, who, hotly pursued by adversaries who had nothing to fear from him, was obliged to make use of all his art and activity to escape; he turned so often and so suddenly, forced his horse to such violent springs, length, when hemmed in completely, and just as every that he was for some time unapproachable; and at one supposed all lost, he threw himself flat on his back, and once more laughed as the hands waved harmlessly over his head. How much longer he could have evaded his pursuers it is hard to say; they were again forcing him to perform the most extraordinary manœuvres, when the President gave the signal to unfurl the flag, and declared Rupert victor.

But enough in all conscience of Cyrilla, and of the characters grouped around her. The name of Erskine demands at least attention to an authoress belonging to that illustrious family, and attention we have bestowed. Praise, also, we will gladly award, with no niggard hand, if the authoress, clever as she certainly is, will write another novel the antithesis of this one.

and the medium of conveying the Canadian estimate of Yankees. It is well to keep this in mind when we read his books.

Sam Slick, it seems, received a roving commission from his President to examine into and report upon the much-talked-of fisheries on th

horses of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Prince Edward's Island-sources of wealth of far more importance, and of far greater value, than California; and yet in our hands, or rather in those of our colonists, at present almost unproductive.

It is evident, however, that Jonathan, wideawake to all that concerns his interests, is fully alive to their capabilities, and has made up his mind to their acquisition at all hazards.

Sam started with due alacrity upon his errand, receiving six dollars a-day wages, and six more for travelling expenses, with permission, if he thought proper, to charter a vessel for the purpose of carrying on his investigations.

During his cruise he throws off as usual a number of sparkling sallies, remarkable for their truth, wit, and cutting sarcasm. We cannot forbear selecting a few as specimens. Speaking with an English nobleman on the subject of the House of Commons, he observes, truly enough, that "it a'int the people of England."

THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.

Very true," said his Lordship.

over you.

"Well," sais I, "since the Reform Bill, that House don't do you much credit. You talk to the educated part of it, the agitators there don't talk to you in reply; they talk to the people outside, and have a great advantage A good Latin quotation will be cheered by Lord John Manners and Sir Robert Inglis, and even Lord John Russell himself; but Hume talks about cheap bread, unevarsal suffrage, vote by ballot, no sodgers, no men-o'-war, no colonies, no taxes, and no nothin'. Well, while you are cheered by half-a-dozen scholars in the House, he is cheered by millions outside."

There is a great deal of truth in that observation, Mr. Slick," said he; "it never struck me in that light before I see it now ;" and he rose and walked up and down the room. "That accounts for O'Connell's

success."

Exactly," sais I. "He didn't ask you for justice to Ireland, expecting to convince you; for he knew he had more than justice to Ireland, while England got no justice there; nor did he applaud the Irish for your admiration, but that they might admire him and themselves. His speeches were made in the House, but not addressed to it; they were delivered for the edification of his countrymen. Now, though you won't condescend to what I call wisdom, but what you call 'popularity huntin' and soft sawder,' there's your equals in that House that do." Conversing with the American President respecting the members of the Upper House, he expresses an opinion that "they don't understand the people."

"Zactly," said he, "when you have born senators, you must have born fools sometimes."

"And when you elect," said I, "you sometimes elect a raven distracted goney of a feller too."

"Next door to it," said President, larfin', "and if they aint quite fools, they are entire rogues, that's a fact; eh, Slick! Well, I suppose each way has its merits, six of one and half-a-dozen of the other."

he was warmin') it 's a proud, a high and a lofty station too, aint it? To be the elect of twenty-five millions of free, independent, and enlightened white citizens, that have three millions of black niggers to work and swet for 'em, while they smoke and talk, takes the rag off of European monarchs; don't it?"

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Very," sais I, risin' to take leave. "And President," sais I, for as he seemed detarmined to stand in the market, I thought I might just as well make short meter of it, and sell him at once- " President," sais I, "I congratulate the nation on havin' chosen a man whose first, last, and sole object is to serve his country, and yourself on the honour of filling a chair far above all the thrones, kingdoms, queendoms, and empires in the unevarsal world." And we shook hands and parted.

Here is a sly hit at the sympathisers on both sides of the Atlantic.

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THE FREE NIGGER.

"Why who the plague are you?" sais I, Satan, Satan? I never heard that name afore. Who are you!" "Juno's son, Sir! You mind, massa, she was always fond of fine names, and called me Oilyander.” I held out my hand to him, and shook it heartily. I heard Old Blowhard inwardly groan at this violation of all decency; but he said nothin' till the man withdrew.

"Why, Oleander," says I, "my boy, is that you?" and

"Mr. Slick," sais he, "I am astonished at you shakin' hands with that critter, that is as black as the devil's hind foot. If he was a slave you might make free with him, but you can't with these northern free niggers: it turns their head, and makes them as forred and as sarcy as old Scratch himself. They are an idle, lazy, good-fornothin' race, and I wish in my soul they were all shipped off out of the country to England, to ladies of quality and high degree there, that make such an everlastin' touss about them, that they might see and know the critters they talk such nonsense about. The devil was painted black long before the slave-trade was ever thought of. All the abolition women in New, and all the sympathisin' ladies in Old England put together, cant 't make an Ethiopean change his skin. A nigger is-a nigger, that 's a fact."

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Capting," sais I, "rank folly is a weed that is often found in the tall rank grass of fashion; but it's too late to-night to talk about emancipation, slavery, and all that."

During the calm, an Indian having wounded a porpoise, the fish dived and disappeared. "Well done, feminine gender," said the pilot." "How can you tell it's a female porpoise?" said the Captain.

SHE NATUR'.

"What will you bet?" said the mate, "it's a she porpoise?"

"Five dollars," said the pilot. "Cover them," holding out the silver coins in his hand; "cover them;" which was no sooner done than he quietly put them into his pocket.

"Who shall decide?" said the mate.

"I'll leave it to yourself," said Eldad, coolly. "I'l take your own word for it, that 's fair, aint it?" "Well it is so, that 's a fact."

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Jump overboard then, and swim off and see if I aint right." The loud laugh of the men who heard the catch, rewarded the joke. "But here is your money," he said; "I know it to be fact, and a bet is only fair when there is a chance of losin', that 's my logic, at any rate." "How do you know it then?" said the skipper. "Because it stands to reason, to natur', and to logic." "Well, come," said the captain, "let us sit down here and see how you prove the gender of the fish by reason, natur', and logic."

Well," said Eldad, "there is natur' in all things.