We must now, for a short time, leave these scenes of the valley, and pursue the footsteps of our young hero, who, in happy ignorance of what was passing there, found himself once more surrounded by the pleasures and luxuries of the French capital. He was one morning reclining in graceful indolence on the canapé, still in the "robe de chambre brodée, and pantoufles de velours," that he once mentioned to our heroine, when the re-entrance of his valet, who had apparently been charged with some commission of importance, drew his attention from the morning journal-whether a journal des modes, or something of more consequence, it might not be fair to say. Struck with the odd mixture of real pleasure and affected sorrow, that gave to his attendant the ludicrous expression of one of Hogarth's prints, he almost anticipated the answer to his questions.

But-nay do not interrupt me while I explain my | haps be able to explain what appears so mysterious;" griefs to you. That letter will tell you that my loved and with a rapidity almost equal to that of the bright brother has been recently exposed to great peril during vision itself, she followed its course toward the cottage. a tour through the highlands of Scotland. He would fain persuade us that the injury he sustained is very slight, and to relieve our anxiety, his account is corroborated by a friend of our acquaintance; yet he cannot disguise from us that the period of his return hither is thus rendered uncertain, and our mother's anxiety is almost beyond endurance. The declining health of our poor Olivia, too, is a source of the greatest alarm and perplexity to us. She has drooped like a broken lily ever since the departure of our young kinsman, and I cannot help fearing that she has given her unsuspecting heart in return for his thoughtless gallantries. She regards him as the preserver of her life, on the eventful evening of the storm on the lake. She wears the beautiful miniature, he so heedlessly presented her, day and night; and so entirely am I convinced of the delusion she indulges in the belief that he is equally attached to her, that I wish much to undeceive her. It is most probable, however, that she would persuade herself I am mistaken, even if I were to undertake so painful a task. We have therefore determined to leave the discovery to herself, in the hope that time and change of scene may banish her present impressions. My mother's prophetic fears," she continued mournfully, “may be realized; for I do not think my hapless friend would survive a knowledge of the truth. I may perhaps speak too free-feeling of solemnity, to which a heart entirely deadly, but I am betraying no confidence; and you will, I know, appreciate the motives that induce me to impart my thoughts to you."

"Have you delivered my note, Dupont ?" he said. "Shall I be admitted this morning?"

"I bring de most triste nouvelles, mi-lord," replied the valet, bowing with unwonted reverence as he uttered the last word, "Monsieur, votre oncle, est-mort!"

The annunciation of this expected event did not elicit any very profound emotion: we will, however, do our hero the justice to say, that it was received with a

ened by the vanities of the world, would have been a stranger. Insensibly, however, this feeling wore away; and, as he paced the apartment, brighter thoughts soon rose uppermost in his mind.

"Lord de Vaux,-twenty thousand a year," said he, musingly. "What female heart can gold despise ? especially when" and his eye rested involuntarily upon a splendid mirror which reflected his elegant person to the greatest advantage. "Mary! beauteous Mary! thou art mine! How unfortunate it is, that I shall be delayed here a week or perhaps longer! Something must be done in that tedious interval. Who can tell what may be the consequence of my apparent indifference?"

It would be vain to attempt even a description of the passionate eloquence, poured forth in the reply to this explanation of our heroine. What a text for a chapter of persuasion to abridge the long, tedious interval, destined to separate him from his promised happiness! It may be perhaps anticipating, to reveal the effect of his oratory; but it is certain that the interview ended by his finding that the exaction of one little word, and even | that one conditional, had made him the happiest of men. Speeches, explanations, and arrangements, sometimes occupy more time than those who are engaged in them are aware of; and the bright moon had poured her flood of silvery light around, before all were completed. The happy lover and his promised bride were leaving the summer house on their return to the cottage, when the aerial apparition of the preceding evening, emerged suddenly from the grove. With the same light, noiseless, gliding motion, it advanced rapidly toward the spot where they stood. The same gleaming whiteness distinguished its apparel: again were the features partly concealed by a long veil, that, as it floated on the summer breeze, added to the supernatural appearance. Again it advanced near enough for Montague to distin- "Yes, mi-lord," replied the valêt, with a slight shudguish the sparkling gems that encircled the delicate arm. der; "I have been in dat terrible pays sauvage." Determined, if possible, not to be baffled, as he had been "Then, to oblige me, you cannot refuse to go again. when it had before crossed his path, he was springing Take this letter, and depart with it immediately; deliforward to intercept it, but he was arrested by the sup-ver it according to the direction. Be faithful, and your plicating voice of Maryreward shall be rich."

"Stay! I entreat, I implore you stay!" she exclaimed in accents of terror, "there is far more danger than you imagine in"A loud shriek from the shaded avenue, whither the apparition had directed its course, interrupted her farther explanation. "Seek not to know more now," she said hastily. "To-morrow I may per

The next moment found him seated at his scrutoire, penning a rapid declaration of his passionate attachment to his lovely kinswoman, with an offer of his heart, his hand, and his brilliant fortune; his letter concluded with a thousand regrets at being compelled to delay for a week his return to the "happy valley." Determined not to trust a communication of such importance to the uncertainty of the post, he thought of some private and express conveyance, and his favorite valet was speedily summoned.

"I think you have been in Switzerland, Dupont ?" he inquired.

"To oblige mi-lord, certainement oui, mi-lord," said the valet; the dismality of his countenance in the anticipation of so long a journey, and so tedious an absence from the place which he regarded as the only habitable spot in the world, being somewhat dispelled by his young lord's last words. "De suite, mi-lord," and

with another profound reverence and unusual alacrity he disappeared.

Because," answered the guide, in rather a dogged tone," my good horse Wolff refuses to go farther." Charles was about to make an impatient and rather angry expostulation, when his attention was attracted by the appearance of the animal, who had planted his feet in the rocky pathway in the attitude of a mule when urged over a dangerous precipice, as if with a determined resolution not to move an inch farther.

"You travellers are for the most part protestants, seigneur," said the guide, dismounting from his obstinate steed and leaning his arm over the saddle; "and if I tell you a piece of my mind, you will say I am a catholic, and that I am superstitious; but by the holy virgin I believe Wolff is right, and with your leave I shall follow his example."

"What is the meaning of all this?" said Charles, whose patience was ebbing fast.

"Why," continued the loquacious guide, "it means that neither I nor my wiser horse will go farther into this valley, both of us being convinced that some evil bodes it this day. Do you not see the very flocks gathering together, as they do before a storm? Do you not hear the cry of those ill-betiding ravens as they scream from the fir trees around us? Have I not twice seen the bats and owls flutter by me-creatures that would never have left their dark hiding places on this sunny day but for our warning? Do you not see the eagles with their young wheeling over our heads?—and shall I disregard all these friendly warnings? No! by the saints! no!"

A few hours found him on the road to the place of his destination; for, having twice travelled the same route in the suite of an English nobleman, he was at no loss to find his way. Before the week had elapsed, the important letter was delivered, read and answered. The reply may be easily conjectured, without being literally cited. It contained a frank avowal of a previous attachment and engagement on the part of the fair writer-a sincere expression of regret that her sentiments toward her kinsman had not, as she had hoped and believed, been explained during his visit to the valley, with the kindest appreciation of his preference, and the hope that he would still retain for her the friendship which would ever be reciprocated on her part. All this was expressed in the most gracious and graceful manner, but without leaving a shadow of a doubt with regard to her sentiments. The letter was signed, sealed and delivered; and in an hour after his arrival, the valet of mi-lord was on his return to Paris. But the little blind god, who seemed to take such a malicious pleasure in baffling our hero, had prepared another disappointment for him. In passing through Lucerne, the faithful Dupont, unhappily for his young lord, though as he deemed it happily for him, met with a pretty soubrette, who had been detained, as she said, amid these malheureuses montaignes, by the caprice of Madame la Comtesse, in whose service she was. It would have been cruel and ungallant to decline her invitation to spend a day in the town of Lucerne; and this day involved another and another, Dupont still relying upon the difficulties of the route, and an account of his "hair breath 'scapes," which he trusted that a "parole d'honneur" would confirm. Impatient at his unexpected delay, Charles resolved not to await his re-flinging the bridle to his conductor, dropped a piece of turn; and as soon as the arrangements which had retarded his departure were accomplished, he set out for the valley. A few days rapid travelling brought him to Lucerne, where, it may be easily foreseen he did not meet with his attendant, that worthy personage having taken good care to set out in the direction by which his young lord came, as soon as he heard of his arrival. It was with great impatience that Charles watched the declining sun on the last evening of his journey, and with no small vexation that he found it entirely too late to attempt to pay a visit to the valley before the next day.

"Then, in the name of the saints you worship," said Charles, whose patience was exhausted by this long harangue, "begone, and let me find my way alone. I have traversed this pathway often enough to know whither it will guide me."

He threw himself from his horse as he spoke, and

gold into his open palm, and in another moment was lost to view amid the windings of the forest pathway. The guide remained stationary for an instant, looked after him, shook his head, and then taking his horses, which showed no farther symptoms of the contumacious spirit they had manifested, retraced his steps to Lucerne.

In the mean time, our young hero, with the light step of a chamois, was rapidly surmounting the difficulties of his route; and half an hour sufficed to bring him to the grille of the little court in front of the cottage, which he fondly thought contained his coveted treasure. Without waiting to request admittance, he passed the court, entered the open door, and stopped not until he found himself at the entrance of the little parlor. He paused a moment at the threshold, for all was silent within. A glance, however, sufficed to show him that it was not untenanted; for the slight form of Olivia was reclining on the sofa. She was apparently absorbed in deep meditation, and her downcast eyes were rivetted on the beautiful miniature he had himself presented her, and which she held in one hand, while the other rested on the head of her faithful little favorite. A single step within the door-way changed the scene. The little animal, startled by its sound, raised his head from beneath the delicate hand which reposed on it, and turned to look at the intruder; but instead of manifesting the delight he had formerly shown at the appear"There lies the route,” said Charles, who remem-ance of his friend, he looked up with an expression of bered the spot well, indicating it by a motion of his uneasiness and even terror, and buried his slender head hand; "why do you not proceed?" I beneath the rich folds of the cachemere which was

The succeeding morning arose in cloudless splendor. Our young hero, as soon as a reasonable hour arrived, procured a guide and horses to pursue his way to the valley. The buoyancy of his spirits was unchecked by even a shadow of doubt as to his success, and the brilliancy of the atmosphere corresponded well with the visions of bliss that flitted through his imagination. Once, and once only, as he looked on the bright bosom of the lake, he remembered that he had seen its placid loveliness succeeded by the awful frown of the tempest; but the painful idea was speedily banished, and all was again light and joy. He was aroused from his pleasing meditations by his guide, who, on reaching a pathway which diverged from the beaten track, had made a dead balt.

Olivia took the porcelaine tablet which lay near her, ing wildly from his seat-and forgetful that even the and inscribed,

"To Lucerne? Impossible! I have but just left it. utterly exhausted by fatigue and mental anguish, he Who has gone?"

Nor did I, for at that instant the chaise stopped at the door of the principal hotel in Lucerne, and I lost sight of our friend as completely as the hero of his interesting tale did of the beautiful valley. When I inquired for him, I was gravely told that he had been seen by no one but myself, and it was even hinted that all that had passed during our ride had been conjured up by my own imagination, and might well be attributed to a visit from Morpheus after my sleepless night and fatiguing walk! Of this, however, it is vain to persuade me. I cannot believe it, and the next time I meet with this communicative friend, I am determined that he I shall tell me the sequel of the story.

"HOME AS FOUND:"

By the author of" Homeward Bound," "The Pioneers," &c. &c.
In two vols. Philadelphia: Lea & Blanchard, 1839.

the fidelity of one or two of our portraits will be recognised by the looker-on, although they will very likely be denied by the sitters themselves.'

We shall not just here take into consideration the correctness of the statements on which this apology is founded. Supposing them entirely correct, a very few words will explain the fallacy of Mr. Cooper's excuse. The great majority of readers seek in a novel, as their principal and almost exclusive object, light and agreeable entertainment. Works of fiction that do not afford this, no matter what merit they may possess otherwise, are usually thrown aside as insipid and worthless. Such food is sought for, not as a means of nourishment, but for the piquancy of its flavor. Whatever, then, may be the favorite object with which a writer composes a novel, certainly his first and chief aim should be to make the story interesting-the plot and incident should receive primary attention. However correctly he may illustrate principles or delineate manners, he forms but a dull, lifeless body, unless a stirring soul of romance be breathed over the creation; and if he at

In a late number of the Messenger* we reviewed "Homeward Bound," a sequel to which we have in the work before us. The reader of the former article may perhaps remember a prediction which we ventured to make, at its close, in regard to the merits of this sequel, then already promised. We made it, feeling some doubt as to the issue the doubt which every uninspired prophet must feel--and hoping, sincerely, that it might not be verified. Unfortunately for Mr. Cooper, and for the public at large, our prediction has been more signally fulfilled than we anticipated. Not only has he failed-failed totally of his proposed object, but--and we did not expect this-there is nothing in his last work to redeem any part of his reputation--a reputation not yet extinct, but certainly like to perish. "Home as Found," we should not think of noticing, but for the author's previously acquired fame, and the op-tempt to convey, under the garb of fiction, moral, politiportunity it affords of reviewing some other follies of cal or other lessons, considering, that for the less serious which he has been guilty. The former reason, not very aspect under which truth thus presented appears, its cogent even now, will soon, we fear, cease to be a rea-wider currency and the enlistment of feeling on its side, son at all.

By thus noticing the book, however, we deprive our selves of the privilege of treating it as it deserves, and therefore feel bound to do something more than express merely this general opinion concerning it. The author himself seems to doubt the merits of his work, and, in the preface, offers a formal apology for its defects. This we shall give in his own words.

are more than an adequate compensation, he should remember that, in order to gain these advantages he must adhere strictly to the laws of this species of composition. Every end other than the gratification of the reader's taste should be made at least to appear secondary, and should be accomplished as if collaterally. The doctrines which the novelist would inculcate may find a more easy way to the attention of the community, "We remember the despair with which that admirable and may be impressed more forcibly upon the mind, observer of men, Mr. Mathews the comedian, confessed when blended skilfully in their development with the the hopelessness of success, in his endeavors to obtain details of an interesting story, but can never, of them→ a sufficiency of prominent and distinctive features to selves, impart essential interest to fiction. Mr. Coopcompose an entertainment founded on American cha-er's favorite object being to exhibit the characteristics of racter. The whole nation struck him as being destitute of salient points, and as characterized by a respectable mediocrity, that, however useful it might be in its way, was utterly without poetry, humor, or interest to the observer. For one who dealt principally with the more conspicuous absurdities of his fellow creatures, Mr. Mathews was certainly right; we also believe him to have been right in the main, in the general tenor of his opinion; for this country, in its ordinary aspects, probably presents as barren a field to the writer of fiction, and to the dramatist, as any other on earth; we are not certain that we might not say the most barren. We believe that no attempt to delineate ordinary American life, either on the stage, or in the pages of a novel, has been rewarded with success. Even those works in which the desire to illustrate a principle has been the aim, when the picture has been brought within this homely frame, have had to contend with disadvantages that have been commonly found insurmountable. The latter being the intention of this book, the task has been undertaken with a perfect consciousness of all its difficulties, and with scarcely a hope of success. It would be indeed a desperate undertaking, to think of making any thing interesting in the way of a Roman de Société in this country; still useful glances may possibly be made even in that direction, and we trust that Vol. IV, p. 728.

American society, he has relinquished the peculiar advantages of presenting his views in a grave dress, for the superior ones which the novel offers, and then has wanted the capacity, or, at least, has neglected, to impart to his fiction that which alone could make it a fit vehicle for truth. Instead of endeavoring to throw the fascination of romance around his opinions, he has attempted to make the latter supply the interest which his story lacks. No Roman de Société ever written, however well it may have illustrated particular social manners and customs, has owed success chiefly, or in any great degree, to this excellence. Indeed, had Mr. Cooper made his original purpose collateral to that of producing a finished tale, however he had failed as to the former, he might nevertheless have given entire satisfaction to a reader contemplating only an agreeable recreation. So Bulwer, in his last novel, "Alice," which he professes to have written as a development of the "mysterics" of human nature, has produced a romance of intense interest, though he has not shed any new light upon the hidden recesses of the heart; but no one, excepting professed critics, quarrel with him because the object declared to be a primary one, appears, every where but in his preface, when it appears at all, quite secondary.

Considered as a mere literary composition, no regard being had to the pretended delineations of American VOL. V.-22

less entertainment, in which the ostentatious folly of one contended with the ostentatious folly of another, a sum that, properly directed, would introduce order and system into a family for a twelve month, by command

society which it contains, "Home as Found," is im- [ who would spend on a single pretending and comfortmeasurably inferior to any of the same author's former novels which we have read. "The Monikins," to be sure, has never fallen under our notice, nor have we been able to find any person who could give an intelligible account thereof. In point of style the presenting the time and knowledge of those whose study they work is exceedingly loose and unfinished, and, in many parts, offends against even the plainest grammatical rules. In the dull, prosing discussions with which it abounds, there is often so much obscurity, that the reader obtains scarcely a single definite idea, but that of the author's spiteful, rancorous feelings towards his countrymen. The following passage will illustrate these remarks, especially the last:

had been, and who would be willing to devote themselves to such objects, and then permit their wives and daughters to return to the drudgery to which the sex seems doomed in this country, he first bethought him of the wants of social life before he aspired to its parade. A man of the world, Mr. Effingham possessed the requisite knowledge, and a man of justice, the requisite fairness, to permit those who depended on him so much for their happiness, to share equitably in the good things that Providence had so liberally bestowed on himself. In other words, he made two people comfortable; his daughter, in the first place, by releasing her from cares that, necessarily, formed no more a part of her duties than it would be a part of her duty to sweep the pavement before the door; and, in the next

tain so good a home on so easy terms.'-Vol. I, pp. 7–8.

In our review of "Homeward Bound," we characterised the plot of that work as exceedingly meagre. This defect is still more glaring in the book before us. If the other appeared "like the few first chapters of a novel spun out to the size of two volumes," this, in comparison, is but a concluding chapter-and a conclusion so wire-drawn, that it has no force or beauty. And the plot is not only meagre, but also as badly con

'Eve Effingham had yet to learn that she had just entered into the most intolerant society, meaning purely as society, and in connexion with what are usually called liberal sentiments, in christendom. We do not mean by this that it would be less safe to utter a generous opinion in favor of human rights in America than in any other country, for the laws and the institutions become active in this respect, but simply, that the re-place, a very respectable woman who was glad to obsistance of the more refined to the encroachments of the unrefined, has brought about a state of feeling--a feeling that is seldom just, and never philosophical-which has created a silent but almost unanimous bias against the effects of the institutions, in what is called the world. In Europe, one rarely utters a sentiment of this nature, under circumstances in which it is safe to do so at all, without finding a very general sympathy in the auditors; but in the circle into which Eve had now fallen, it was almost considered a violation of the proprieties.ceived as that of any tale with which we have lately We do not wish to be understood as saying more than we mean, however, for we have no manner of doubt that a large portion of the dissentients even, are so idly, and without reflection; or for the very natural reasons already given by our heroine; but we do wish to be understood as meaning that such is the outward appear-above quoted. The foregoing part left the Effinghams ance which American society presents to every stranger and to every native of the country too, on his return from a residence among other people.' Vol. I, p. 40.

met, put forth by the most infantile magazine or newspaper contributor that the public forbearance has emboldened. The awkwardness of its construction we cannot more aptly illustrate, than by comparing it with the most inelegant of the author's own sentences

just after they had landed at New York. They spend some months in that city, and thus afford Mr. Cooper an opportunity of introducing numerous illustrations of American town life. This portion of his subject being exhausted, he carries his whole company of actors to Templeton, Mr. Effingham's country seatthe Templeton of "The Pioneers." Here they find

If any person, after once perusing this paragraph, can give a clear explanation of its meaning, we envy his ready discernment, though not the acquisition of the grain of wheat winnowed from so much chaff. Between what the author means and does not mean, wishes to be un-Mr. Powis, who, since his sudden disappearance, has derstood as meaning, and wishes not to be understood as saying, we were at first greatly mystified. It is useless for him to wish not to be understood as saying more than he means,' if he says so much without any meaning, or if "by a multitude of words he so darkens his counsel."

In the following awkwardly constructed, diffuse and inflated sentences, we are told the important fact, that Mr. Effingham employed a housekeeper, in order that the cares of one of the largest establishments, in the largest American town,' might not burden his youthful daughter:

Fortunately for her, however, her father was too just to consider a wife, or a daughter, a mere upper servant, and he rightly judged that a liberal portion of his income should be assigned to the procuring of that higher quality of domestic service, which can alone relieve the mistress of a household from a burden so heavy to be borne. Unlike so many of those around,

crossed and recrossed the Atlantic, and, very opportunely for the further progress of the tale, meets the party on their arrival. The suspicion that has rested on his character is gradually cleared away, and from the disclosures made by Mr. Monday's papers, and various fortunate coincidences, he appears to be the son of Mr. John Effingham, who, having in early life married unhappily, without the knowledge of his family, deserted his wife before his son's birth, and afterwards passed as a bachelor. Paul Powis, or Paul Effingham, as he now proves to be, marries Eve; Sir George Templemore is united to her cousin Grace Van Cortlandt, and, when the scene closes, the whole family purpose a return to Europe.

All the developments of the plot, as we have already said, are most awkwardly conducted. Mr. Cooper seems to imagine that one important art in novel-writing consists in the preparation of great surprises. In our former article we endeavored to show the mistake