almost every work of this author; and we regret that he cannot remember the sensible observation, passed by Dr. Johnson in his admirable critique upon Macbeth, that he who should now introduce fairies, witches, ghosts or spirits in scenes relating to common life, would justly meet with the contempt of adults, and be consigned to the amusements of the nursery.

The appearance of Bridgenorth in the Isle of Man was, in consequence of revengeful schemes promoted at court by the brother of the executed Colonel Christian, to dispossess the Countess of Derby of her property of the Isle of Man, which in that event would devolve on the Duke of Buckingham, in right of his wife, the daughter of General Fairfax. The bold and vigilant Countess discovers her danger, and to defeat these machinations sends young Peveril with despatches to London, carefully sewed within his inner garment. Julian arrives at Liverpool, and on his road to London, via Derbyshire, he falls in with a man named Ganlesse, whose character and talents are sketched with spirit and judgment. This traveller, in spite of Julian's prudence and resentment, continues to dog him on his road, and eventually, to poor Julian's surprise, gives him convincing proof that he is acquainted with his name and family, and with his being the bearer of dispatches from the Countess of Derby to her partisans in London. This explanation induces Julian to become the compagnon de voyage of the stranger, who, amidst the wilds of the borders of Derbyshire, introduces Julian to a lonely house on the way-side; where, as if by magic, he is set down to a superb dinner, served upon plate, and with companions evidently of the highest description. The scene of this banquet, and of the gay conversation of the profligate hosts is spirited and entertaining. Julian's champaigne is drugged by his entertainer, and, in the sleep produced by the narcotic, his dispatches are taken from him, and blank papers are substituted in the seal-skin case which enveloped them. The next morning he proceeds on his way to Derbyshire, and arriving at the Peak, finds his father has been arrested on a charge of being ac

cessory to the Popish Plot, by the famous Col. Topham, the bloodhound of Parliamentary persecutions. His efforts to rescue his parents are fruitless; they are conveyed prisoners to London, and himself is consigned to the custody of Major Bridgenorth, who had just foreclosed his mortgage upon the Peveril estates. At Major Bridgnorth's he unexpectedly finds Alice, whom he had just left in the Isle of Man, for the Author has a thorough contempt of all probability, in conveying his characters from one place to another. Julian discovers the profligate Ganlesse at the Major's table, under the disguise of a puritan, and in spite of his fervid remonstrances finds that the father of Alice is resolved to send his daughter to town in care of this abandoned hypocrite. Julian is rescued from the custody of Major Bridgenorth, and proceeds to London. In an inn upon the road he accidentally discovers that those, by whom he had been entertained on the way to Derbyshire, were the gay Lord Saville and Chiffinch, the celebrated pander of King Charles's debaucheries, who had been brought down to that neighbourhood by Col. Christian (Ganlesse) for the purpose of entrapping his niece Alice, whom this uncle Christian designed as a temptation to the King to detach himself from the influence of the celebrated and intriguing Duchess of Portsmouth. Julian in this inn overhears Chiffinch in a fit of intoxication divulge the whole scheme relative to Alice, as well as the robbery of the dispatches; these he subsequently recovers by assaulting Chiffinch on the high-way, and eventually arrives in London. By a sort of hocus-pocus contrivance the Author makes Julian fall in with the Dwarf Fenella, who, by playing gambols in St. James's Park before the King, is the means of introducing Julian to his Majesty; and this outré sort of introduction enables Julian to rescue Alice from the rudeness of the Duke of Bukingham, and from the unhallowed intentions of the amatory monarch. The contrivance of all these rencontres is clumsy in the extreme, and we need not expatiate upon the dearth of invention of an author, who could devise no better method of rescuing

his heroine than by introducing his hero to a King, by means of a dwarf's playing antic tricks before his Majesty in the public walks of St. James's Park. Julian, in rescuing Alice, wounds a bully of the Duke of Buckingham, and is conveyed to Newgate. A description of New gate is now given to us by this careless author, which every reader will immediately recognize to be servilely borrowed from the Beggar's Opera, and from the more admirable narrative of Booth's introduction to Newgate in Fielding's Amelia. In this prison, Julian Peveril is confined in a cell with another dwarf, the famous Sir Geoffrey Hudson; and, as if the author were determined to reach the very depth of fatuity, he introduces, every dark night, into this hermetically closed cell of Newgate the original female dwarf, whose dumbness turns out to have been all fictitious; for "in a soft, silvery voice" she endeavours in the dark to induce Julian to abandon his love for Alice, of course as a preliminary step to his bestowing his affections on this Elfin miniature of womanhood. Except in the Fairy Tales or in the Arabian Nights, where such scenes and creations of fancy are legitimate to the nature of the works, we do not think that our language can produce any thing more trifling, or more out of taste and judgement, than this agency of the deaf and dumb dwarf; and the author is unpardonably culpable as he has already tried the public opinion upon such a fiction in his novel of the Pirates, and has met with the severe and just castigation of the able critic of his works in the Edinburgh Review. Julian and his father are tried before the infamous Scroggs, the Judge of Charles the Second's reign; but the character of the notorious Oates, the perjured witness of the times, was now on the decline, and the Peverils are acquitted. The lodgings of the Peverils, opportunely for the author's story, happen to be under the roof where the fanaticism of Major Bridgenorth has led him to contrive a plot for the attack of the palace. Colonel Christian is the wily agent of the Duke of Buckingham, and procures the Duke's participation in the scheme. The plot is revealed to

the King by the dwarf Fenella's contrivance of sending the male dwarf, Sir Geoffrey Hudson,into the palace, shut up in a violincello-case: the case being with great probability carried up into his Majesty's drawing-room, and unpacked or opened in the presence of the assembled company. Sir Geoffrey, of course, walks out of the fiddle-case to the astonishment of all present, and reveals to the Sovereign the mighty mischief which is hatching against his royal person. The denouemens now of course take place. The Duke of Buckingham is first reproached, and then pardoned by the Monarch. Fenella resumes her voice in the full company, proves to be the daughter of Christian, and to have been employed by him about the Countess of Derby's person for the purposes of treachery, assuming, by his order, both the defects of dumbness and insensibility to sound, with a view of aiding his designs. She and Christian are banished to America by the King. Julian Peveril of course, espouses Alice Bridgenorth, and the estates of the two families are united, and all is restored to harmony and enjoyment.

The talents of this author are confined to insulated description; and the present work confirms the observation that his plots are invariably confused, and inconsistent. The character of Fenella is supposed to have been suggested by that of the celebrated dwarfimpostress Carabos, who was eventually confined in the prison of Devonshire. It is drawn with talent, and would have been a good creation of fancy for the Castle of Otranto, or for one of Monk Lewis's tales, but is out of all keeping with the delineation of real life and manners in so recent an era as the reign of Charles. Her long assumption of want of speech, and of hearing, is unnatural in the extreme; and her ardent passion for Julian Peveril, who is described as scarcely less mighty of limb than old Sir Geoffrey, appears both ludicrous and absurd. The reader may recollect that we have recently had one dumb dwarf in the novel of the Pirates, an Elfin dwarf in the Lay of the last Minstrel. Another dwarf in Kenelworth. A black dwarf in the novel of that

name, and now in this one novel of Peveril of the Peak, we have two dwarfs, both of mighty agency in the conduct of the plot. We must observe that the scene between JuJian and Deborah, the vexatious old nurse of Alice Bridgeworth, is a palpable plagiarism of the scene between Juliet and her nurse on her return from the lady's message to -Romeo.

Having thus in the spirit of candid criticism animadverted upon the faults of this novel, we have now left to us but the pleasure of dwelling upon its brilliant merits. There may be little or no pathos in the work and nothing to excite breathless anxiety, nor is there much of wit; but there are numerous scenes drawn with admirable spirit and truth to nature, and diversified characters conceived with the creative powers of genius, and the individuality of which is preserved in a manner evincing the nicest talent of discrimination. Neither the hero nor heroine are much indebted to the author's pencil; they excite comparatively but little interest. Sir Geoffrey Peveril, however, with the character of Major Bridgeworth, are in fine keeping; and the sagacity, prudence, and kindness of Lady Peveril render her an object of solicitude to the reader to the last of the novel, although she is brought forward but little after the action of the piece becomes material. The great powers of the author are most displayed in his characters of Ganlesse or Christian, and in that of the profligate, vacillating, magnificent Duke of Buckingham. In the interviews between these personages, the acute villainy and shrewd dexterity of Ganlesse, in contest with the court tact of Buckingham, are painted with the hand of a great master; whilst the voluptuous magnificence of this royal favourite equals in description the gorgeous fictions of imagination, which have rendered eastern stories so captivating to every taste. Peveril of the Peak approximates in its class of merit more to the Fortunes of Nigel than to any other work of this author, but it is useless we apprehend to draw comparisions between the separate novels; the work before us,

if irregular or unequal in its parts, is, as a whole, a splendid production of a mind of no ordinary powers.

December Tales. London, 1823. 12mo. pp. 231.

The

We are inclined to think that there is a misnomer in the title of this little volume; for, if it be well adapted to the object thus avowed, or at least implied in its baptism, that of cheering the December fire side, we much doubt whether it will not be often selected as the companion of the summer ramble, and become the associate and friend of the rural loiterer. Were the great critic of the Rambler now alive, and were he to put his usual question, "have you, sir, read it through," we should certainly be able to answer in the affirmative, in spite of that inquisitorial tone which would imply the Doctor's habit of impatience in getting through a work, and the doubt that others could be more persevering than himself. volume before us would, however, prove no such tax on our patience; for we have perused it with pleasure, and have been induced to read it with more than usual attention by the amusement it has afforded us. We have here eleven tales of diversified description, in which the author is often amusing, often pathetic, always interesting, and never prolix or dull. The style is natural, but we are prompt to deny it the praise of elegance, because we think that whatever defects there are, either in the style or in the stories, they arise not from a want of natural power or of acquirements in the author, but evidently from want of care. For instance, the author succeeds in his first story, Mary Stukeley, in creating a mixture of pathos and curiosity in the reader with a useful excitement of impatience; but the effect of it is rather marred, and the reader leaves the story with less of satisfaction, from the improbable and unaccountably sudden death of Mary, and still more so, from the abrupt disposal of the other female character. In the beautiful story of the Falls of Ohiopyle, the abrupt transition from his convalescence to his marriage makes an

unpleasing chasm, and the reader regrets that a hand that paints so well should have hurried the picture to its termination. The Englisher's story displays a similar fault; it is beautifully told, but the catastrophe is too trite and novellike; and in the Test of Affection, the naturalness of the tale is injured by carrying the ghost-scene too far into the regions of nursery fiction. We think, indeed, that the author has in his literary disposition some little love of the romantic, and a tinge of what has been called MonkLewisism, although his good sense prevents his carrying them to too great a length. We must, however, retract our praise for good sense, and decidedly condemn the author's bad taste and want of judgment in his praise of his literary companions in the piece entitled "The Theatre." Independent of a probable difference of opinion in the public, the praise of contemporary and monthly writers seems like an invitation to be praised in return; or, at best, will be viewed by the public as the injudicious expression of individual partiality. Interspersed in these Tales are many judicious and admirable observations, uttered with a freedom from affectation or even of design, which gives them a more striking and pleasing effect. For instance, in the first story of Mary Stukely, speaking of Eliza, whose character is admirably sketched, the author observes, "her discoure was interesting, fluent and animated, perhaps too much so, for it was interspersed with remarks whose general truth and well directed pun

"Her

gency scarcely atoned for their freedom and boldness, which I did not altogether admire." Who does not see in these few words the full length portrait of the mens masculina in foemina, with its ordinary unpleasant effect upon the other sex. Again, speaking of the same character the author observes, faults (perhaps I am making use of too lenient an expression) were those of a strong mind, unrestrained by prudence or the force of early restriction.' This is well in keeping with the first observation: our gallantry will not allow us to assert that the application of the passage can be made more frequently to intellectual ladies than to gentlemen; but who is there that has kept literary and intellectual society, who has not often had to observe the effects of "a strong mind unrestrained by prudence," -so often perhaps as almost to lead to the supposition, that there is a natural repugnance between prudence and that peculiar cast of intellect, which is usually meant by the expression of a strong mind." We are convinced that there are two or three very eminent characters at this moment, to whom every reader will be able to apply the remark. —Our limits oblige us to take leave of our author; we leave him, however, with the anticipation that we shall have to renew our acquaintance; for he, who has been able to write the volume before us, will not be long before he again challenges the attention of the critic, and establishes his claim to the public approbation.

AMERICA:

Mons. de Venancourt, a Captain in the French Navy, and Governor of the Establishment at Terra Nuova, was ordered, in 1821, to survey the coasts of that island. In the fort of St. George he found two tribes of Indians of about 100 families. The first had originally come from Cape Breton, and the other from Labrador. These savages lived by the chace and by fishing, and the tribes were respectively known by the names of Miomaks and Montagnards. They were all Catholics, of mild dis positions, and were attached to the French. Amongst them were the descendants of many fishermen from Les Basques, (Gascony,) who had been left on the coast when the French carried on their fisheries in these seas. Mons. de Venancourt speaks of their extraordinary attachment to their religion, and of their even refusing to eat meat on a Friday. This officer attended their place of worship and found them chanting the mass out of a book written by themselves. It is supposed that some Missionaries must have translated for them the principal prayers of the Catholic service. They have an altar with an image of Christ, and have also a portrait of the King of France, and a painting of the Marriage of the Duke of Berry. Mons. de Venancourt taught them the Domine salvum fac regem.

According to the last Census, the 18th Congress of the United States of America consists of 212 representatives, and 48 members of the Senate or Upper House.

SOUTH AMERICA.

The Gaeta de Columbia, published at Bogota, computes that there are 2,644,000 inhabitants of the Seven provinces of Orenoes, Venezuela, Sulia, Bayacca, Cundinamara, Cauca, and Magdalena. These provinces, which formerly composed the province of Quito, now return 28 senators and 93 representatives to the Legislature of the Republic.

WHITE SEA.

There have been erected in the district of Kala, on the coast of the White Sea, two light houses; one on Cape Orloff at 66 fathoms, the other on Cape Pulongue at 125 fathoms from the shore; the base of the latter is 42 feet above the level of the sea. These two towers are painted white.

INDIA.

The newspapers of India inform us,

that the liberty of the press, although so recently established in that vast country, has had such an extensive effect, that at the last celebration of the great Idol Juggernaut there were so few pilgrims, that there was a difficulty in drawing the car of the Idol; and the Bramins were consulting about the removal of the image to districts farther from the dissemination of knowledge.

SANDWICH ISLES.

Mr. Ruggles, a Missionary from the United States of America to the Sandwich Islands, relates the following anecdote of Athoi, the King of one of the islands, who had learnt from the whites to drink ardent spirits, but who had recently reclaimed himself from the habit. "Suppose," said the King to the Missionary, "you were to hold 4,000 dollars in one hand and a glass of rum in the other, and were to say, drink the rum and I will give you the money-I would not drink it; and if you then said, I will kill you, still I would not drink it."

EGYPT.

The Pacha of Egypt, Mahomed Ali, who constructed the great canal Mahmudie, now purposes to restore the canal anciently constructed under Darius and Ptolemy, and which will form a junction between the Nile and the Red Sea.

The late Mr. Rich, the English Consul at Bagdad, had drawn a plan of the Ancient Nineveh, and had discovered the ruins of the palace and garden of Sardanapalus.

All persons who travel in this country agree in attributing to the Viceroy all the qualities of a statesman. The Christians living under his laws owe him many obligations, and men of all religions and of every nation may now travel through Egypt with a security before unknown in the Ottoman dominions. The fortifications of Cairo are still in progress; Alexandria is surrounded by a second enclosure of walls and with a large deep ditch. This place is defended by strong bastions upon the accessable points, as well by land as sea. The rock Aboukir and the coast conducting to the cisterns of Marabuth, whence the ships in the port of Alexandria take in water, are now fortified in the European style. The army of the Viceroy is only 45,000 strong, infantry, cavalry, and artillery included. His navy is composed of