this Newgate literature, that to quote the best is mere justice. There are touches of feeling and purity in its pages, though, under the circumstances, feeling would be a wonder, and purity an impossibility, which lead us the more to regret that choice of subject, and carelessness of composition, should injure a talent which can own such a charm. In Rodolph's nightly visits to dark alleys and suspicious taverns, he has interfered to save from a blow a poor abandoned girl, nicknamed the goualeuse, a word which, in thief argot, signifies singer; he gives a severe lesson, in boxing, to his adversary, the chourineur-this last word stands for assassin; and the trio proceed in perfect amity to the Lapin blanc :

"The goualeuse was sixteen years and a half old. The purest forehead completed her face of a perfect oval; a fringe of long lashes, so long that they turned upward, half shadowed her large blue eyes; the down of early youth softened her rounded and rosy cheek; her small red mouth, her thin, straight nose, her dimpled chin, had an adorable charm of contour. On either side her satin temples, a plait of pale, beautiful hair descended in a half circle to the middle of the cheek, and was raised again behind the ear, whose ivory tip was just perceptible beneath the tight folds of a bluechecked cotton handkerchief, tied, as is said vulgarly, en marmotte;' a necklace of red coral was round her throat of dazzling whiteness and beauty. Her gown, of brown bombazeen, much too wide, allowed to guess at rather than see a delicate figure, pliant and round as a reed; a little worn, orange shawl, with green fringe, was crossed on her bosom. The charm of voice of the goualeuse had struck her unknown champion; in truth, this voice, soft, thrilling, and harmonious, had an attraction so irresistible, that the mob of ruffians and infamous women, among whom she lived, often begged her to sing, listened to her with delight, and called her la goualeuse.' She had also received another name, due no doubt to the virginal purity of her features: she was called 'Fleur de Marie,' which in argot signifies virgin."

The goualeuse had never known her parents. The first care she recollected was that of a hideous, one-eyed woman, who made her stand on the Pontneuf, with her small tray of sugar-barley, to excite compassion. She had often a glass of cold water for breakfast, and damp straw to sleep on. She was

beaten when she failed to bring home money, first in anger, next from motives of policy, as the old wretch found that the pity of the passers-by, for the fair child who cried, increased her profits. At last she fled from the torture, and hid herself in a woodyard; she was condemned as a vagabond to remain till the age of sixteen in a house of correction; and she thanked her judge for his goodness, for she had food and no blows, and the sun shone in the courtyard; and when she had done her task, she sat there and sung.. Her sixteenth birthday come-the prison doors openshe finds outside the mistress of the tavern, and her vile companions, who offer her lodging and gay clothes, if she will go home with them; but she has three hundred francs, and she sends them away, resolved, as she says, to enjoy life; and buys flowers to fill her room, and passes the summer days in the woods, in company of another young girl, discharged from prison at the same time.

:

While the money lasts, she forgets to seek for work; she has given her last forty francs and her mattress to a poor woman lying-in without assistance. She is repulsed where she craves employment, because, not to deceive, she tells whence she issued two months before she walks forth saddened-the fine weather has passed away. She is hungry, and will soon lack shelter; the old women are on her path once more, and she becomes their victim. This tale she has told to Rodolph on their first interview; and Rodolph, determined to rescue her, returns to the Lapin blanc :-

"You are come for your change, no doubt,' said the ogress, (this being, according to Monsieur Sue's researches, the very appropriate name given the hostess of such a tavern.)

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Yes, and I will take the goualeuse to pass the day in the country."

Oh, as to that, good fellow, it is out of the question."

"Two hundred and twenty francs, ten sous; but how does that concern you? Would not a body suppose that you intended to pay?-play the great lord, do!'

"There,' said Rodolph, throwing eleven louis on the pewter of the ogress's counter; and now, what is the worth of her clothes?'

"The old hag examined the louis, one after the other, with an air of doubt and distrust.

"Do you imagine I have given you bad money? Send to change the gold, but let us have done. What is your charge for the miserable covering you hire to that poor girl??

"The ogress, divided between the desire of a profitable bargain, astonishment at seeing a workman possessed of so much money, fear of being duped, and hope to gain yet more, was silent for a moment. At last she said

"Her clothes are worth, at least, a hundred francs.'

"Rags like those? pshaw; you may keep the change from yesterday, and I will give you another louis, no more. To allow myself to be fleeced by you, is to rob the poor."

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Very well, friend; I will keep my clothes; the goualeuse shall not stir from this; I am free to set on my property what price I please.'

May Lucifer treat you one day according to your merits! there is the money, go fetch the goualeuse.'

"

"Yes, Monsieur Rodolph, quite indifferent, so long as it is to the country; it is so fine, to the fresh air; it is so pleasant to breathe the fresh air. Do you know that it is now five months since I went farther than to the flowermarket; and if the ogress permitted my passing the bounds of the city, it was on account of her great confidence.'

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And when you came to this mar. ket, was it to buy flowers?'

"Oh, no; I had no money; it was to look at them-to breathe their sweet smell, during the half hour the ogress allowed me to stay there on marketday, I was so happy that I forgot all beside.'

"And when you returned to herto those horrid streets'

"Then I was sadder than when I set forth: I restrained my tears, not to be beaten. And in the flower-market, what made me envious, oh, very envious, was to see the little, neat work women going gaily home, with flower-pots in their hands.'

“I am sure that if you had but some flowers on your window-sill, they would be company to you.'

"That is true, indeed, Monsieur Rodolph. One day the ogress, at her fête, knowing my taste, gave me a little rosetree; if you could but guess how happy I was I felt weariness no longer. I did nothing but gaze at the rose-tree; I amused myself with counting its leaves and blossoms; but the air of the city is so bad, that at the end of two days it had commenced to turn yellow, and then-but you will laugh at me, Monsieur Rodolph.'

"No, no, go on.'

"Well, then, I asked permission of the ogress to go out to give my rosetree air, as I would have given it to a child. I carried it to the quay; I thought that to be there, with the other flowers, in that fresh sweet air would do it good. I bathed its poor fading leaves in the clear water of the fountain; and to dry them I left it a quarter of an hour in the bright sun-dear little rose-tree. In the city it never saw the sun, for it shines no lower than the roofs in our street at last, then, I carried it home again. Well, I assure you, Monsieur Rodolph, that thanks to these airings, my rose-tree lived, perhaps ten whole days longer than it would have done otherwise.'

"I do not doubt that you felt its loss when it died?'

"It was a real grief; I wept for it; and see, Monsieur Rodolph, since you can understand a love for flowers, I may tell you I felt something like gratitude towards it, because-because-but now, I am sure you will laugh at me.'

"I cannot tell; I hoped, in spite of my reason. It seemed to me in these moments, that my fate was undeserved; that there was something good in me. I said, I have been tormented, but at least I never did harm to any one. If I had been advised, I should not, perhaps, have become what I am; and this drove away my sadness a little. But, indeed, I should tell you that these thoughts visited me most, after the death of my rose-tree,' added the goualeuse, with a solemn look, which made Rodolph smile. "This heavy sorrow still.'

"Yes, see, here it is,' and she drew from her pocket a small parcel of twigs, carefully cut, and tied with a pink ribband.

"And you have preserved it ever since ?'

minded creatures, rare under the most favouring circumstances, till she dies at eighteen, an abbess-we do not quarrel with, on the score of probability; for Monsieur Sue can never have aimed at this quality. His improvement in the penal code, substituting blinding for death, he seems, himself, to have abandoned. He has not written the pamphlet, promised in a note to the scene wherein Rodolph exercises this same kind of doubtful mercy. In the letter which appears in the "Debats," as epilogue to the tale, he applauds himself on the adoption of various plans of philanthropy, set forth in the course of these volumes. We rejoice with him that this should be; while, for the sake of the weak and ignorant of his own country, whom he may injure; and the enlightened of other countries, whom he may prejudice unfairly; we believe he would do well to curb his invention, and seek his models elsewhere; and present any idea or project he may think calculated to serve humanity, without the dangerous framework which surrounds these, thinking, as we do, that the examination of the many will stop there.

We have called the reign of the feuilleton novel, a symptom of decline in that branch of literature. The facilities it affords mediocrity, are an added bar to genius. The stomach, cloyed with unwholesome food, will sicken at delicate viands. It may be objected that an author will not change his nature with his place; yet not only must he fit the feuilleton, he must suit it likewise. There must arise a stirring interest, exactly at the close of such a column; and the tale is executed, like a piece of worsted work, by counting stitches; the meeting, or the parting, or the mystery, must not be a line too high.

We have never heard it asserted that the feuilleton might make a great writer, and it is evident it may mar one. As to its criticism, it too much resembles the duel fought in hot blood, on the instant of the offence-therefore so likely to be fatal; and though the serious pages of Philarete Chasles, and the witty ones of the writer who signs" Old Nick," and others we could name, might render lenient, experience has proved the use less certain than the abuse.

M. D. H.

We have been earnestly and repeatedly urged, upon various occasions, to express an opinion, or to offer some remarks, on the expediency of reviving ecclesiastical convocations,or of in some other form "restoring to the church her synodical powers." For a length of time we resisted the importunities to take this task upon us, because we were unwilling to afford encouragement or countenance to a discussion which we thought inconvenient and unseasonable. Our scruples are now removed; the controversy which we dreaded is already opened; and the station, qualities, and abilities of the parties who have engaged in it, give assurance that it will not be closed until the subject has had an ample discussion. This altered state of things demands a corresponding change on our parts; rendering it a duty from which we cannot claim exemption, to lay before our readers arguments advanced with the authority of high names, and requiring of us no longer to withhold expression from our own less authoritative convictions.

In the last session of parliament his Grace the Lord Archbishop of Dublin presented, in the House of Lords, a petition from certain members of the Church of England and Ireland, the prayer of which was recommended by his grace and by the Lord Bishop of Salisbury; while it would appear that another distinguished prelate, the Lord Bishop of Ossory, offered a qualified opposition to it. The debate or discussion which took place on this occasion, the Archbishop of Dublin thought it advisable to reprint, in an appendix to his charge to the Dublin clergy, delivered in last June. And, inasmuch as the published report of the Bishop

of Ossory's speech was defective, his grace undertook to supply the deficiency from his own recollections.

In making the requisite emendations, it would seem as if the archbishop relied on his memory, and thought it unnecessary to make any reference to the learned prelate whose speech he reported and replied to. A consequence followed which might have been, reasonably, anticipated. The Bishop of Ossory felt constrained, by the publication of a report not sufficiently exact, to re-state, in his own name, the substance of what was really his speech in the House of Lords, and to add some comments on the reply made by the Archbishop of Dublin to his supposed argument.

The prayer of the petition which gave occasion to the parliamentary discussion, and thus, indirectly, to the controversy which has succeeded it, is as follows:

"Your petitioners, therefore, humbly pray that your lordships will be pleased to consider what measures should be adopted for securing the efficiency of this church, so as the better to enable her, in the existing circumstances of the country, to carry forward the great objects of her original institution."

The main object of the petition is, perhaps, best described in the following passage:

"Your petitioners are sincerely attached to the existing constitution of the church of which they are members, and are not making application for any specific changes, but for the establishment of an ecclesiastical government, which shall have authority to determine what is, and what is not, binding on the mem

bers of this church, and to pronounce respecting any changes which individuals may have introduced, or may propose to have introduced."

The ecclesiastical government contemplated is to have authority for determining "what is and what is not binding on the members of the church;" and is also to pronounce respecting changes contemplated, as well as changes already introducedwhether in doctrine, discipline, or worship, or in all three, is not directly stated.

The argument advanced in the petition for the erection and establishment of this high authority, the petitioners have thus stated :

"That the Church of England and Ireland, viewed as an important part of the church of Christ, ought, as such, to enjoy the privilege permitted to other churches and religious bodies, of possessing within herself,' such a power of regulation in her distinctly spiritual affairs, as may best promote the due discharge of the sacred duties required of her ministers, and provide for the religious discipline of her own members.

"That, for the attainment of this, there is required the establishment of some deliberative ecclesiastical body, having authority to frame regulations, and to decide in questions of doubt and difficulty, respecting all such matters.

"That THE CONVOCATION,' supposing it adapted, not only to former times, but to all times, is fallen into desuetude; and that neither to revive that, nor to make any provision for supplying its place, is clearly at variance with the design of our reformers.

"That the two houses of parliament were not originally designed, and were never considered as adapted, to be the sole legislative authority for the church, in spiritual' matters; and, that if they ever had been so adapted, the recent changes in the constitution of those houses, admitting, without distinction, to seats in the legislature, those who may, or may not be members of this church, have given rise to a peculiar unfitness, and indeed unwillingness on their part, to be called on to exercise this authority in behalf of this church."

The Church of England and Ireland, as a branch of the church of Christ, it is here affirmed, ought to possess, within herself, such a power of regulation in her distinctly spiritual affairs, as may best promote the due

sures

discharge of her sacred duties; and it is assumed, that "for the attainment of this, there is required the establishment of some deliberative ecclesiastical body, having authority," &c. The convocation is fallen into desuetude; the houses of parliament, as now constituted, it is affirmed, are peculiarly unfit to legislate for the church; and in this difficulty, one house of parliament is prayed to consider what measures should be adopted for rendering the agency of the church more efficient. In addressing a body peculiarly unfit to legislate for the church, and indeed unwilling to do so, it would be, perhaps, desirable that the petitioners had been more definite in their prayer, and had proposed meawhich they desired to see adopted, rather than tasked an incompetent and unwilling body with the labour of devising them. The petitioners are not of our opinion. They declare that "recent changes in the constitution of the houses of parliament have given rise to a peculiar unfitness, and indeed unwillingness, on their part, to be called on to exercise authority in behalf of the church," and then pray that a parliament thus incapacitated and indisposed would be pleased to "consider what measures should be adopted for securing the efficiency of the church." Could this prayer be indulged without an exercise of authority? Perhaps, but, however the question be answered, we should have thought that the petitioners, had they waited until they knew what they wanted, and thus enabled themselves to propose a scheme for adoption by the parliament, would have acted with more wisdom and consistency than they did when they told the House of Lords, that it had neither the power nor the will to legislate in behalf of the church, and described themselves as, therefore desirous that it should construct the system, or devise the measures by which ecclesiastical affairs should be thenceforth ordered throughout the empire. We should have thought that a petition concluding with such a prayer would have been more appropriately addressed to the throne, where the interests of the church have a sure friend and protector,-one who has contracted no obligation incompatible with the duties of this sacred guar