laughed at the idea of my applying to the police for aid. Was their strength such as to defy the law with security? Was it possible that their daring had tainted the sources of protection, and that the government of the law was within their hands?

The personal danger in which I stood, as well as the probability which there was that our efforts to prevail in the recovery of my father's property would be ineffectual, were apparent, and filled me with anxiety; but what action to take I was at a loss. Any force, whether legal or wrongful, which could be brought against them would necessarily fail of the object for which it would be used: the sword was no instrument for exploring the dimness of doubtful right or demonstrating the validity of a tangled title. Pacific ingenuity had overcome justice; nothing but the same species of power could restore it completely. I felt anxious to contend against them with their own weapons, and baffle them in the labyrinth of their own tortuous plans. Coolness, courage, and counsel, I thought, could effect the end.

To know more fully the extent of their information and power, and the course which they intended to pursue, was the first requisite. This might be accomplished if I could become privy to the proceedings of the meeting which was to take place on the following evening; for that subject was to form one of the themes of its deliberation. Of the place and time of that assembly I was already aware, and I entertained no doubt of being able to place myself in such a situation as to see and hear all that should then be done and said. Upon the knowledge which I should thus obtain, I would be better able to ground my subsequent proceedings and I postponed till then the settlement of any scheme of conduct. Besides this, another benefit might be obtained from the cognizance of the incidents of that meeting. It chiefly concerned the position of Harold, and if I could possess a knowledge so important to him, I might make its communication the price

At

of important concessions from him-a mode of moral barter or diplomatic set-off, with which I presumed so experienced a contriver as himself was familiar. least I should have a power over him which I could employ to advantage.

END OF VOL. I.

MISS AUSTEN'S NOVELS.

LEA & BLANCHARD, SUCCESSORS TO CAREY
PHILADELPHIA, HAVE JUST PUBLISHED,

CO.,

IN ONE LARGE VOLUME.

Bound in elegant Embossed Cloth, or neatly half bound with Calf backs and corners.

MISS AUSTEN's novels are among the most original that have appeared since the "Amelia" of Fielding. We see in them no traces of thoughts, or incidents, or characters, supplied by other writers; they are self-suggested throughout. As a picture of the habits of the provincial middle classes thirty years ago, they are as true to life as the master-pieces of Gainsborough, possessing all his exactness and literal fidelity, without his coarse vigour. No one makes so much of a rustic pic-nic; imparts such a piquant flavour to the gossip of country cousins; or portrays a village "Mrs. Candor" with such skill and whimsical effect, without verging on caricature, as Miss Austen. She makes as free of the old maid's tea-table, and lets us into all the secrets of the Lady of the Manor's coterie. She has no heroes or heroines, in the ordinary acceptation of the term; her dramatis personæ are for the most part of a homely, quiescent, every-day caste; yet they uniformly interest us, being worked out with uncommon ingenuity, and their veriest common-places turned to humorous account. Miss Austen never affects the romantic or imaginative. She has no highly-wrought scenes of passion or pathos; no startling surprises, or melodramatic contrasts; but finishes up to nature, without once going beyond

2

66

it. Her dialogues are remarkable for their ease, and point, and archness, and so exquisitely characteristic as almost to induce the conviction that they had been overheard by the writer, and taken down in short-hand. Those who have read Emma," and more especially "Mansfield Park," will have little hesitation in placing Miss Austen in the same rank with Goldsmith; for, like him, she is the most social and unambitious of novelists, and scatters over the homeliest subjects a thousand artless, inimitable graces. How perfect is her description of the gipsyparty on the village common; and of the broad shady oak in Mansfield Park, under which the young folks used to loiter away the summer evening, till the approach of the thrifty and prolix Mrs. Norris, who was much addicted to unseasonable lecturing, would compel them to a precipitate departure! Wit without malice, humour without grossness, refinement of touch without apparent effort, and repose of manner without insipidity; these are the main characteristics of Miss Austen's productions, who in her own circumscribed sphere has never yet been rivalled, and most likely never will be so.

Sir Walter Scott, in speaking of Miss Austen, says: of the first female novelists."

"One

Again, Mr. Lockhart, his biographer, says: "Among some other talk, in returning, he spoke with praise of Miss Ferrier as a novelist, and then with still higher praise of Miss Austen. Of the latter he said: "I find myself every now and then with one of her books in my hand. There's a finishing-off in some of her scenes that is really quite above every body else."

Extract from Sir Walter's Diary.

“Also read again, and for the third time at least, Miss Austen's very finely written novel of Pride and Prejudice. That young lady has a talent for describing the involvements, and feelings, and characters of ordinary life, which is, to me, the most wonderful I ever met with. The Big Bow-wow strain I can do myself like any now going; but the exquisite touch, which renders ordinary common-place things and characters interesting, from the truth of the description and the sentiment is denied to me. What a pity such a gifted creature died so early."