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in the county!' • Sorrow!' said Iwhat do you mean by sorrow?' 'That there's no better, plase your honour, can be seen. We have two more to be surebut one has no top, and the other no bottom. Any way there's no better can be seen than this same.' And these horses,' cried I-why this horse is so lame he can hardly stand.' Oh, plase your honour, tho' he can't stand, he'll go fast enough. He has a great deal of the rogue in him, plase your honour. He's always that way at first setting out.' And that wretched animal with the galled breast! He's all the better for it, when once he warms; it's he that will go with the speed of light, plase your honour. Sure, is not he Knockecroghery? and didn't I give fifteen guineas for him, barring the luckpenny, at the fair of Knockecroghery, and he rising four year old at the same time?' I. 61-63.

"Then seizing his whip and reins in one hand, he clawed up his stockings with the other; so with one easy step he got into his place, and seated himself, coachmanlike, upon a well-worn bar of wood, that served as a coach-box. Throw me the

loan of a trusty, Bartly, for a cushion,

said he. A frieze coat was thrown up over the horses' heads. Paddy caught it. • Where are you, Hosey?' cried he. Sure I'm only rowling a wisp of straw on my leg,' replied Hosey. Throw me up,' added this paragon of postilions, turning to one of the crowd of idle by standers. Arrah, push me up, can't ye? -A man took hold of his knee, and threw him upon the horse. He was in his seat in a trice. Then clinging by the mane of his horse, he scrambled for the bridle which was under the other horse's feet, reached it, and, well satisfied with himself, looked ound at Paddy, who looked back to the chaise-door at my angry servants, 'secure in the last event of things.' In vain the Englishman, in monotonous anger, and the Frenchman in every note of the gamut, abused Paddy. Necessity and wit were on Paddy's side. He parried all that was said against his chaise, his horses, himself, and his country, with invincible, comick dexterity; till at last both his adversaries, dumb-foundered, clambered into the vehicle, where they were instantly shut up in straw and darkness. Paddy, in a triumphant tone, called to my postillions, bidding them get on, and not be stopping the way any longer." I. 64, 65.

By and by the wheelhorse stopped short, and began to kick furiously. "Never fear,' reiterated Paddy. I'll engage I'll be up wid him. Now for it,

Knockecroghery! Oh the rogue, he thinks he has me at a nonplush, but I'll show him the differ?

"After this brag of war, Paddy whip ped; Knockecroghery kicked; and Paddy, seemingly unconscious of danger, sat within reach of the kicking horse, twitching up first one of his legs, then the other, and shifting as the animal aimed his hoofs, escaping every time as it were by miracle. With a mixture of temerity and presence of mind, which made-us alternately look upon him as a madman and a hero, he gloried in the danger, secure of success, and of the sympathy of the specta

tors.

"Ah! didn't I compass him cleverly then? Oh the villain, to be browbating me! I'm too cute for him yet. See, there, now, he's come to; and I'll be his bail he'll go asy enough wid me. Ogh! he has a fine spirit of his own; but it's I that can match him. "Twould be a poor case if a man like me couldn't match a horse any way, let alone a mare, which this is, or it never would be so vitious." I. 68, 69.

The most delectable personage, however, in the whole tale, is the an

cient Irish nurse Ellinor. The devoted affection, infantine simplicity, and strange pathetick eloquence of this half-savage, kind hearted creature, afford Miss Edgeworth occasion for many most original and characteristick representations. We shall scarcely prepossess our English readers in her favour, by giving the description of her cottage.

"It was a wretched looking, low, mudwalled cabin. At one end it was propped by a buttress of loose stones, upon which stood a goat reared on his hind legs, to browze on the grass that grew on the housetop. A dunghill was before the only window, at the other end of the house, and close to the door was a puddle of the dirtiest of dirty water, in which ducks were dabbling. At my approach, there came out of the cabin a pig, a calf, a lamb, a kid, and two geese, all with their legs tied; followed by cocks, hens, chickens, a dog, a cat, a kitten, a beggar-man, a beggar woman, with a pipe in hem mouth; children innumerable, and a stout girl, with a pitchfork in her hand; altogether more than I, looking down upon the roof as I sat on horseback, and measuring the superficies with my eye, could have possibly supposed the mansion capable of containing. I asked if Ellinor O'Donoghoe was at home; but the dog

barked, the geese cackled, the turkeys gobbled, and the beggars begged with one accord, so loudly, that there was no chance of my being heard. When the girl had at last succeeded in appeasing them all with her pitchfork, she answered, that Ellinor O'Donoghoe was at home, but that she was out with the potatoes; and she ran to fetch her, after calling to the boys, who were within in the room smoking, to come out to his honour. As soon as they had crouched under the door, and were able to stand upright, they welcomed me with a very good grace, and were proud to see me in the kingdom. I asked if they were all Ellinor's sons. All entirely,' was the first answer.

Not one

but one,' was the second answer. The third made the other two intelligible. 'Plase your honour, we are all her sons-inlaw, except myself, who am her lawful son.' Then you are my foster-brother?' No, plase your honour, it's not me, but my brother, and he's not in it? • Not in t? No, plase your honour; becaase he's in the forge up above. Sure he's the blacksmith, my lard.' And what are you? I'm Ody, plase your honour;' the short for Owen," &c. I. 94-96.

It is impossible, however, for us to select any thing that could give our readers even a vague idea of the interest, both serious and comick, that is produced by this original character, without quoting more of the story

than we can now make room for. We cannot leave it, however, with out making our acknowledgments to Miss Edgeworth, for the handsome way in which she has treated our country, and for the judgment as well as liberality she has shown in the character of Mr. Macleod, the proud, sagacious, friendly and reserved agent of her hero. There is infinite merit and power of observation even in her short sketch of his exteriour.

"He was a hard featured, strong built, perpendicular man, with a remarkable quietness of deportment. He spoke with deliberate distinctness, in an accent slightly Scotch; and, in speaking, he made use of no gesticulation, but held himself surprisingly still. No part of him, but his eyes, moved; and they had an expression of slow, but determined good sense. Ile was sparing of his words; but the few that he used said much, and went directly to the point." I. 3.

After having said so much of "Ennui," we can afford but a very slight account of the Victim of Fashion.

This is the daughter of a rich Yorkshire grazier, who, with a fortune of two hundred thousand pounds, is smitten with the desire of being fine and fashionable; and first throws off the society of her earliest and most respectable friends, to copy the purseproud airs of a rich banking baronet's lady; then abjures the banker, in order to be occasionally insulted in the house of a lady of high birth; next deserts her, to purchase the favour of another who has influence at court; and finally settles down into the society of a few hired and domestick flatterers, who bear with her peevishness and discontent, for the sake of sharing in her melancholy splendour. The progress of this despicable infatuation, and the havock it makes among all her original claims to respect and enjoyment, are very finely and artfully delineated. The greatest piece of management, however, in the story, is the character of Miss Elmour, the early friend of our unfortunate heroine. Instead of being brought out in broad contrast, it is softened and kept under with such admirable judgment, that the reader feels half angry at her long-suffering kindness and affection for so ungrateful an object—and at the slowness with which her innate superiority is ultimately made triumphant. The dramatick part of this story, and indeed the whole dialogue of the publication, is excellent; but we can only make room for the comparative view of the fashion of the banker's lady, and the fashion of the lady of family. Upon her removal to the family of the latter,

"Almeria found the style of dress, manners, and conversation, different from what she had seen at lady Stock's-she had easily imitated the affectation of lady Stock, but there was an ease in the de. cided tone of lady Bradstone, which could not be so easily acquired. Having lived from her infancy in the best company, there were no heterogeneous mixtures in her manners; and the consciousness of

wore

a

this gave an habitual air of security to her sequence was much raised by the court words, looks, and motions. Lady Stock that was paid to her by several young seemed forced to beg, or buy-Lady Brad- men of fashion, who thought it expedient stone, accustomed to command, or levy, to marry two hundred thousand pounds." admiration as her rightful tribute. The II. 55–58. pride of lady Bradstone was uniformly re.

We wish we could make some exsolute, and successful; the insolence of lady Stock, if it were opposed, became tracts from “ Manæuvring;” but we cowardly and ridiculous. Lady Bradstone have left ourselves no room-and for seemed to have, on all occasions, an in the story, as it contains the history of stinctive sense of what a person of fashion ought to do; lady Stock, notwithstanding several connected plots, it is obvious

the making, and the failure of three her bravadoing air, was frequently perplexed, and anxious, and therefore awk.

that we could give no intelligible acward—she had always recourse to prece

count of it within any moderate dents. ‘Lady P said soor lady limits. It is written with admirable Q did so-lady G

skill and correctness of imitation; and this, or lady H

was there, and

is likely, we think, to be the most therefore I am sure it was proper.' On the contrary, lady Bradstone never quoted fashionable, though by no means the authorities, but presumed that she was a

most useful or instructive of the colprecedent for others. The one was eager lection. There is a painful and humble to follow the other determined to lead, pathos in some parts of “the Dun," the fashion. Our heroine, who was by no

upon which we have :ot spirits to means deficient in penetration, and whose whole attention was now given to the

enter. We earnestly entreat all goodstudy of externals, quickly perceived these natured youths of fashion to read it shades of difference between her late and through, and not to be too impatient her present friend. She remarked, in par- to get rid of the impressions which it ticular, that she found herself much more must excite in thein. "at ease in lady Bradstone's society. Her

We must now take an abrupt and ladyship's pride was not so offensive as

reluctant loave of Miss Edgeworth. lady Stock's vanity. Secure of her own superiority, lady Bradstone did not want to

Thinking as we do, that her writings measure herself every instant with in- are, beyond all comparison, the most feriours. She treated Almeria as her equal useful of any that have come before in every respect; and in setting her right us since the commencement of our in points of fashion, never seemed to triumph, but to consider her own know- conscience with us to give them all

critical career, it would be a point of ledge as a necessary consequence of the life she had lal from her infancy. With a

the notoriety that they can derive sort of proud generosity, she always con

from our recommendation, even if sidered those whom she honoured with their execution were in some measure her friendship, as thenceforward entitled liable to objection. In our opinion, to all the advantage of her own situation, however, they are as entertaining and to all the respect due to a part of herself. She now always used the word

as they are instructive; and the gewe, with peculiar emphasis, in speaking nius and wit, and imagination they of Miss Turnbull and herself. This was å display, are at least as remarkable signal perfectly well understood by her as the justness of the sentiments acquaintance. Almeria was received every they so powerfully inculcate. To where witithe most distinguislied atten. some readers they may seem to want tion; and she was delighted, and absolute. ly intoxicated, with her sudden rise in the the fairy colouring of high fancy and world of fashion. She found that her for romantick tenderness; and it is very mer acquaintance at lady Stock’s were true, that they are not poetical love extremely arnbitious of claiming an in- tales any more than they are anectimacy; but this could not be done. Miss dotes of scandal. We have great resTurnbull had now acquired, by practice, the power of looking at people, without pect for the admirers of Rousseau seeming to see them; and of forgetting and Petrarca; and we have no doubt those with whom she was perfectly well that Miss Edgeworth has great resacquainted, ller opinion of lier oun con- pect for then but the world, botli high and low, which she is labouring luxuriant ornaments of an ardent and to mend, have no sympathy with this tender imagination. We say this respect. They laugh at these things, merely to obviate the only objection and do not understand them; and which we think can be made to the therefore, the solid sense which she execution of these stories; and to presses, perhaps, rather too closely justify our decided opinion, that they upon them, though it admits of relief are actually as perfect as it was posfrom wit and direct pathos, really sible to make them with safety to the could not be combined with the more great object of the author.

FROM THE BRITISH CRITICK,

keener eye.

Camilla De Florian, and other Poems. By an Officer's Wife. 12mo. 38. 6d. 1809.

IF this elegant little volume had “ So 'mid the winter of my days, not, as it really has, the claim of My humble lays affection bids me try; great tenderness and sensibility, of

Not now to meet soft friendship’s

praise, many ingenious ideas, happily and

But the stern glance of judgment's harmoniously expressed, the following impressive address would disarm E’en in the hour when Fate her dart has criticism and excite a friendly sym

thrown

To wound a heart far dearer than my pathy

" TO THE REVIEWERS. “ Ah! say, who blames the wintry bird, “ No vain presumption hither brings, When storms have chilled its frozen, No conscious merit does a hope impart; trembling wing,

I seek to bear to healing springs If then its notes are feebler heard, The faded, wounded husband of my Than those in gilded palaces who sing?

heart, E'en taste will urge, as generous bounty O spare the verse my trembling hand pours,

unveils That sweeter notes may rise in happier Respect the motive, tho' the effort fails."

hours:

own.

FROM THE BRITISH CRITICK. The Husband and the Lover. A Historical and Moral Romance, in Three Volumes.

8vo. 18s. 1809.

WE learn from a modest note at acknowledged to be; but full of ingethe end of these volumes, and we can nious contrivance, interesting events, assure the author that we perused remarkably well drawn characters, the work from its commencement to noble sentiments, and elegant lanits conclusion, that it is a first at guage. If a crowd of publications did tempt, and by a lady. But it may not press upon us, all of which, safely be asserted, that it would do agreeably to our plan of giving our no discredit to any writer of great ex- readers a consistent history of the li. perience in either sex. The story is terature of our country, must in turn founded on the well known life and be noticed, we would willingly have character of the great Sobieski, king discussed the merits of this work in of Poland; and from his residence in a more extended article. It has amuFrance, before he entered on the sed us exceedingly; and is so very far great career of his glory, a story superiour to any thing which we have is formed romantick indeed, as it is lately perused of the kind, that it bids fair to preserve a place in the portion duke, is a well known fact. The beof a miscellaneous library assigned haviour of the marquis after discoto the works of Burney, Ratcliffe, vering his wife's infidelity, is perhaps West, &c. Throughout, historical among the greatest improbabilities facts are very ingeniously blended of the book; but the defects are with fictitious characters and events. neither many nor important, consiThe main incident, namely, that of dering its claims of blending most Sobieski's exerting his influence with satisfactorily much instruction with Louis XIV. to make a son of his, by great amusement, the marchioness de Briscacier, a

FROM THE MONTHLY REVIEW.

Le Souterrain, &c. i. e. The Cavern, or The Two Sisters. By Madame F. Herbster.

12mo. pp. 152. London, 1809. WHEN we are informed that the happily regtored to each other, after groundwork of this novel is true, we a lapse of years. We should suppose, know not how far the assertion is indeed, that this is the fond of the lit. meant to extend. But a perusal of the tle novel before us; which is interesttale convinces us that a considerable ing, and calculated to make pious and portion of fiction is blended with the amiable impressions on the minds of matters of fact. Various travellers feeling and well disposed readers. have given accounts of the perforated Every line is favourable to virtue; rocks in the vicinity of Tours, the and, as no school is equal to that of scene of the principal adventures misfortune for training the heart to here recorded; and it is not improba- the duties of humanity, the picture ble that, during the horrours of the here delineated may be regarded as French revolution, so fatal to the no- not less natural than instructive. The bility, some persecuted individuals author remarks, that few French nomight have meditated and actually vels are fit to be put into the hands found an asylum in the caverns or of young persons. Madame Herbster grottos of these rocks. But, it is not might have added, “ or of old people.” easy to believe that so comfortable a And it is at least a negative recomsubterranean habitation, as is here mendation of Le Souterrain, that it is described, could have been found, free from those faults with which and have been furnished as the hi- French compositions of the lighter ding place of a noble family. While it kind, too much abound. The story is is even much less credible that two interlarded with no insidious and orphan females, the eldest being but dangerous principles; but the whole twelve and the youngest only six breathes sentiments of devotion, and years old, could have made their way trust in Providence; of parental ten, from Paris to this retreat, and have derness, and filial affection; of gratimaintained themselves, without ser- tude to benefactors, and, of kindness vants, and without being discovered. It to our fellow creatures. As the story is sufficiently probable, however, that is affecting, an abstract of it will not, a count and countess, in the bloody perhaps, be unacceptable. reign of the monster Robespierre, In the rich and fertile valley of might have been violently torn from Tours, which may not improperly their children; and that all parties, be called, the garden of France, on under the protection of Divine Pro- the banks of the Loire, is a small vidence, might have been preserved chain of rocks, which looks to the through a thousand dangers, and southeast, and is protected from the

a

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