"You are excessively kind, my dear sir,' answered the guest! but as my place is at least ten miles distant from yours, I fear, if you sup in the same style that you dine, it would be somewhat late before I got home,' "Mr. Cartwright bowed, dropped his eyes, and said nothing.

Oh, sir,' said Mr. Hetherington, who, though he had drunk more than any man at table, excepting the cousin Corbold, had as yet in no degree lost his apprehension, Oh, sir, you quite mistake.: the supper that the excellent Mr. Cartwright means is to be taken at the table of the Lord.'

"Dear me!' exclaimed the squire, who really meant to be both civil and serious, 'I beg pardon, I made a sad blunder indeed.'

"There is nothing sad but sin, Mr. Wilkins,' replied the Vicar, meekly. 'A mistake is no sin. Even I myself have sometimes been mistaken.'

"What heavenly-minded humility there is in Mr. Cartwright!' said Mr. Hetherington, in a loud whisper to his neighbour; 'every day he lives seems to elevate my idea of his character. Is not this claret admirable, Mr. Dickson?""

"Kindness in Women," is intended to be illustrated by Mr. Bayley in the course of two distinct stories, the one called "Kate Leslie," and the other " David Dumps." These two titles naturally suggest that both humour and pathos have been aimed at, and we must add, with considerable effect. Indeed, we hardly expected from a pen that has hitherto been known for its sweet poetic warblings, such variety and vigour as it has in these tales displayed. Still lightness even in this light department of literature is the characteristic of the work; and though it may serve to beguile a long winter evening, while the hail patters on the window and the blazing fire is the only living companion which the reader can behold or listen to within, he will not, next morning, be reminded of any absorbing scene which his late occupation presented to him. Neither his dreams nor his waking hours are ever likely to be burdened by Mr. Haynes Bayley's musings or creations.

"Stokeshill Place" is like all Mrs. Gore's novels, skilfully constructed in point of plot, and cleverly as well as naturally detailed. She is a smart writer as well as a shrewd observer; and along with these requisites for one who would show up the frailities and follies of mankind or lash them effectively, she can, whenever she chooses, strike a deeper tone and appeal to strong or tender affection.

A Mr. Barnsley is the hero of "Stokeshill Place," who, from being an active attorney, acquires such a command of the needful as to purchase a fine country estate. He is as selfish, hard-hearted, and incapable of appreciating his daughter Margaret's virtues, as she is beautiful and endearing. He obtains a seat in Parliament, which he only values on account of its enhancing his own consequence. Both she and her father have to experience many vicissitudes, but we will not disclose more of the story, in order that we may have room for a specimen of the work, which is sufficient to show that the

hand which fashioned it cannot produce any thing that will not repay an examination. The passage relates to an election contest, and explains some of Mr. Barnsley's feelings and principles, as well as his position at a certain period.

"And the morrow!-The cruelty of the fiat, 'Master Barnadine, rise and be hanged!' seemed nothing in comparison with Mr. Barnsley, rise and be chaired!'-He felt that he had been elected in opposition to the wishes of what might be called the town; that he had been thrust upon them by the activity of the two Hs, and the gathering together of the scattered tribes of Westertonians. Most of the out-voters (London mechanics or men of small business, or small men of business elsewhere,) had returned to the place from whence they came. His oration would be performed to an audience of dissidents; and he thought of dead cats and rotten apples, and trembled.

"But it was too late for retreat. The chair, adorned with its laurels and ribands, was already exhibiting in the shop of Varnish and Deal, the upholsterers, over whose door streamed a blue banner variegated with mud by the malcontents; while the bales of blue ribbon already laid to his account by Miss Tiffany the milliner (from whom Mrs. Timmins threatened to withdraw her custom), were in progress of augmentation by a few thousand yards more, sent for express to Maidstone the preceding night, as if all the maids of Kent were to be indebted for a twelvemonth to come to Barnsley for the splendour of their topknots. As the new member stood before the glass, shaving the lengthened chin of his disconsolate face, he could not but bewail the inconsistency of destiny; which, during the last six weeks, had condemned a man exclusively devoted to business, to all the fiddle-de-dee of life; to balls, junkets, bonfires, illuminations-first the pleasures of the table, and now the honours of the chair.

"Sir!'-said John, who was maliciously watching the progress of his master's despondency, 'I hope your Honour be in good heart this morning -for I'm feared your Honour will have but a trying day on't. Job Hanson have been up at the Place this morning, (about stacking the wood yard,) and told us as how Dobbs's people were recruiting with good bounty money, far and near, for a strong hiss at the chairing; such a mint of money, he says, never was spent at any election since the time Squire Woodgate, Sir Henry's uncle, was shoved to the wall.' (Barnsley's face brightened at the comparison.) But, to be sure, Sir, times be changed; for nigh as Sir Henry was upon a majority, they say it havn't cost him not a tithe part of what's gone out of your Honour's pocket. Farmer Hawkins up at Longlands, he have undertaken to clear Sir Henry out and out, for a matter of eight hundred pound. His woters was all residents.'

"Barnsley's face grew black as the stock which the footman was buckling on.

"If so be I might make bold to give a bit of advice,' resumed John, watching in the glass into which he peeped over his master's shoulder, to watch the effect produced by his communications, I could wenture to say as it would be worth while to give the constable a bit of a tip, to keep near your Honour's person, during the ceremony; for from somethin' Job overheard as he was a-passing the Winchelsea Arms, he do think there'll be a sort of a plot a-carrying on.'

"A plot?' reiterated Barnsley, thinking of nothing less than the gunpowder and Guy Fawkes. 'Do they want to blow me up

"John, though almost as much of a wag as Squire Closeman, was forced (in regard to the subordination of his cloth) to resist the retort that rose to his lips, of Lord, Sir, hav'n't you had blowing up enough from them already?'-and simply replied-Bless you, Sir, no-all they wants is to blow you down. They're getting up somethin' of a sham chairing, that's all; and heads is so hot at elections, that it will be hard if some on 'em doesn't get broke on sich a 'casion. Would your Honour wish me to speak to the constables?'"

None of the works that have already been noticed in our present list can be compared with Miss Landon's "Ethel Churchill," either as respects an entangled plot skilfully developed, clearly defined characters, or the fine, often the profound, reflections that everywhere enrich the current of the narrative. Indeed, some may be inclined to say, that our authoress too frequently stops to give utterance to her principles and feelings, when she should make her characters act and educe the same lessons in the progress of the story. But still her sentiments are so excellent, the language which clothes them is so eloquent, and the whole evidently the result of so much purity of heart, that on a second perusal, which the novel must command, these episodes become the real gems of the work.

The scene is laid during the reigns of the two first Georges of England, and besides fictitious actors, several of the most celebrated individuals of the period are ingeniously introduced, such as Pope, Swift, Miss Fenton, who became Duchess of Bolton, Lady Mary Wortley Montague, the Duchess of Queensberry, Sir Robert Walpole, &c. Such a variety of characters, and a great diversity of incidents both distressful and otherwise, are thus brought upon the stage, that a mind of Miss Landon's calibre and habits obtains almost innumerable opportunities for strewing her pages with precious opinions and thoughts. It ought also to be observed, that the poet everywhere may be detected in the position of the acting parties, and in the choicer morsels of the work.

Of the details of the story we must not attempt any outline; but its moral is valuable, inasmuch as it impresses upon the mind the superiority in point of delight and principle which the performance of every-day duties in the noiseless tenour of life yields to all that wealth, rank, or talent can command. We have only farther to state, before quoting a few examples, that this seems to us to be a production which will be often read long after the season has expired in which it was first published. It is certainly the most beautiful specimen we have yet seen of Miss Landon's elegant and earnest pen.

Our first extract contains a delightful sketch of a party where a number of those belonging to high life are introduced.

"Midnight brought with it all the world to Lord Norbourne's-at least

that portion of it which calls itself the world, to the exclusion of all the rest. His usual good fortune attended him; and the management of a féte requires as much good fortune as anything else. How many there were in that glittering crowd whose names are still familiar to us! There was the Duchess of Queensberry, who had not as yet cut the King and Queen, looking strangely beautiful, and half tempting one to believe in the doctrine of transmigration; namely, that the soul of the Duchess of Newcastle had transmigrated into the body of the modern peeress. There she was, doing rude things, and saying ruder, which everybody bore with the best grace in the world: then, as now, it was perfectly astonishing what people in general will submit to in the way of insolence, provided the said insolence be attended by rank and riches. Near her was the young and beautiful Duchess of Marlborough, wearing the diamond necklace she had recently purchased with Congreve's legacy-last memorial of the small vanity which had characterised him through life. The money now lavished on the ostentation of a splendid toy, what a blessing it would have been to some one struggling with life's worst difficulties-poverty and pretence !

"Lord Peterborough was talking to her,—a man sent into the world to show that the Amadis could have its prototype in reality; and yet all his heroic qualities dashed with a ridicule, as much as to say, the present age is quite unfit for them. Next came a crowd of young beauties, who shed their own brilliancy around; and near were a group of cavaliers, fine gentlemen about town,' who, whatever else they might doubt, had not a doubt of their own irresistibility. And, crowning glory of the evening! a conquest was made, a conquest so sudden, so brilliant, and so obvious, that it was enough to give any fête at which it occurred the immortality of a season. "At Lord Norbourne's express petition, the beautiful Miss Walpole was allowed to emerge from the seclusion of Houghton, where she had been wasting her sweetness on the desert air for the last two years. Very lovely, and very simple minded, she was allowed more of her own way than it is ever good for a woman to have. Engrossed in politics, her brother left her almost entirely to her own amusements and fancies. Unfortunately, she was induced to accept an invitation to stay at Lord Wharton's, a man notorious for what are so strangely misnamed gallantries, and whose Lady was as bad as himself. She had scarcely reached the place before, also, her intended visit reached Sir Robert's ears. With him, a resolution always carried itself into action with all possible rapidity: he ordered post horses to his carriage, and went himself as courier to precede it. Making no excuses, and listening to none, he insisted on his sister's immediate appearance and departure, and sent her off next day into Norfolk. Fortune, however, to-night seemed resolved on making full amends to a beauty cut short in the first flush of success, and sent to waste two of her prettiest years in the dull seclusion of an old house in the country.

"What blooming simplicity!' exclaimed Lord Townshend.

"Positive milk of roses!' exclaimed Lady Mary Wortley Montague; but the sneer passed unheeded; and Lord Townshend, crossing the room, entreated Mrs. Courtenaye to present him to her lovely young friend.

"Miss Walpole was a soft, sleepy-looking beauty, with a pretty, startled, fawnlike look in her large eyes; shy, silent, and with gathered blushes of two summers on her cheek: but, if she had few words, she had a great

many smiles, and of these Lord Townshend had the entire benefit. She was just one of those sweet and simple creatures whose attraction Talleyrand so well described, when he was asked what was the charm he found in Madame's society: C'est que cela me repose!'

"Nothing could be more satisfactory than this conquest was to Lord Norbourne; he saw how it would strengthen the connexion between Walpole and Townshend, and he liked the éclat of its happening at his daughter's house. No one in his secret soul more despised the small vanities and successes of society, while he, also, well knew the advantage to which they might be turned; but he had to-night one deeper and dearer source of gratification-it was seeing his daughter look so well. Lady Marchmont had superintended her toilette, and it was the very triumph of exquisite taste; everything about it seemed as fragile and delicate as herself. The robe was the palest pink taffety, trimmed with the finest lace, and a magnificent set of emeralds served to contrast her soft fair hair. The excitement of the evening lighted up her eyes, and warmed her cheek with a faint but lovely colour

The crimson touched with pale.'

We shall quote two or three specimens of the sort of remarks and reflections to which we have referred as forming the precious morsels that everywhere enrich "Ethel Churchill." Here is something about different stages of life:

"There are in existence two periods when we shrink from any great vicissitude-early youth and old age. In the middle of life, we are indifferent to change; for we have discovered that nothing is, in the end, so good or so bad as it at first appeared. We know, moreover, how to accommodate ourselves to circumstances; and enough of exertion is still left in us to cope with the event.

"But age is heart-wearied and tempest-torn : it is the crumbling cenotaph of fear and hope. Wherefore should there be turmoil for the few, and evening hours, when all they covet is repose? They see their shadow fall upon the grave, and need but to be at rest beneath.

"Youth is not less averse from change; but that is from exaggeration of its consequences, for all seems to the young so important, and so fatal. They are timid, because they know not what they fear, hopeful, because they know not what they expect. Despite their gaiety of confidence, they yet dread the first plunge into life's unfathomed deep."

Miss Landon spares not coquets in certain observations which belong to a scene in which an attempt is made to account for the quarrel between Pope and Lady Mary W. Montague.

"There is cruelty in feminine coquetry, which is one of nature's contradictions. Formed of the softest materials-of the gentle smile and the soothing word, yet nothing can exceed its utter hard-heartedness. Its element is vanity, of the coldest, harshest, and most selfish order it sacrifices all sense of right, all kindly feelings, all pity, for the sake of a transient triumph. Lady Mary knew-for when has woman not known?— her power. She knew that she was wholly beloved by a heart, proud, sensitive, and desponding. She herself had warmed fear into hope; had VOL. III. (1837). No. II.