she advances! Upon the crowding events of a second depends the fate of both crews. The sternest hold their breath, and captain Truck, with his gray hair streaming in the tempest, utters his orders. That voice of the veteran, familiar of storms, is heard above the roar of the elements, and once more the vessels steer apart! The scenes growing out of this "blow in the tropics," are, beyond comparison, the finest in the work; and we feel as if the same master hand that we so proudly recognized in the "Red Rover," was visible in the machinery of this stirring narrative.

charm would be broken, and Mr. Cooper would little thank us for our officiousness. The plot, so far as we can see, is simple as a village story, filled up like an illuminated book of the fifteenth century, with brilliant capitals and gorgeous flourishes. The book is glorious in many parts, and dull oftener than we expected, though not oftener than we feared it would be, for Mr. Cooper has been estranged from the use of the delicate and imaginative pen, having of late so much worried both himself and a victimized public with political tracts, the effusions of his most untractable spleen.

During the long run that ensues, Mr. Cooper fills up the vacuum with dialogues; and how utterly does he Mr. Cooper has been called the Walter Scott of Amefail in describing the high-toned, yet easy intercourse, rica. It could not have been, because their styles were that generally takes place between persons in an ele- similar, but because they were both master novelists of vated sphere of life. His characters are caricatures of their country. Scott's delineations of women are magithe originals, either stilting in the air, or grovelling in cal beyond parallel, and his conversations from the the dust; and even Eve is still unloved by the reader. lord and lady of the castle, to the gardener and the To our imagination she seems a fine young woman, groom, seem as things that we have actually heard in with an aquiline nose, muscular and spirited, standing some of the dim and indistinct periods of our lives. amid a group of men, with politics or morals, national | Cooper is a writer who serves the cause of courage, of prejudices and governmental dogmas for her themes. There is no delicate play, no delightful badinage, to distinguish the beautiful daughter of fortune; but a haughtiness, which seems the only feeling natural to her, distinguishes this masculine heroine of the story. The atmosphere in which she moves and has her being, is unnatural and rigid, as if she kept her tenderness at home in an ice-house, and subject only to the mighty incantations of terror in fearful seasons of personal peril. She is the spoilt child of a doating father, to whom she imparts her ideas of liberty, law and government, in remuneration for his kindness. We refer our readers to pages 76, 78, and 79, in the first volume, and 225 and 243, in the second volume, for our justification and Mr. Cooper's censure.

hardships, of the wilderness, of the deep dell, and the stupendous steppes of the American prairies. He robes himself in a buffalo skin, and rifle in hand, he traverses the whole animal region, familiar with the beasts and birds, and fills our imaginations with ideas of bold enterprises and sturdy deeds. He is the very embodiment of mental fortitude, and he is only at home when he is in the voiceless solitudes of the lands or seas. In the latter, he steers his barque with unerring hand, even amid the spear-pointed breakers of the foaming beach. We recognize the hand of a Prospero, when clouds pall the heavens, and all the minute and general signs of tempest are upon the flashing face of the ocean. Then we yield to the tremendous powers of the natural painter, and he conjures up the giant billow, dark and white, like a huge warrior with his iron mail and snowy plume, rising in his stirrups amid a bloody fray. We

way up over those magnificent waters, lo! the vessel, under reefed topsails, rushes in grandeur upon the scene.

Not to be able to sketch the glorious amplitude of woman's nature, sweet and beautiful, is not to be a poet. Of all the flowers that spring up for the enthusi-hear the big voices of the winds, and when ploughing her asm of the novelist, none are so deserving of his care as that which God calls woman, and which man worships as angel. The deficiency of this power is the strongest proof of the uninspired mind, and we lament with great sincerity that our native author is subject to reproof in this important particular. To be sure there are some scenes in which Eve figures splendidly, and draws upon us for our warmest admiration, but it is the situation that produces the effect, and not Eve; for, were the humblest and most uninteresting waiting-maid placed as Eve is, with her rude parents, in the midst of shipwreck, our tears would flow freely for her vulgar griefs, sublimated for the moment into the grandeur of despair. We have, during our whole acquaintance, seen her artificial, haughty, and sometimes prudish, (that deadliest of all offences against modesty,) that we sympathize with her only when the terrible mingles with her fate, and bows her spirit down to agony and

How much romance there is attached to a ship!-and it was ever so. In ancient times Ulysses traversed, wife-searching, the limited seas of those times, in a high peaked barque; and a mysterious interest invests any fabric that tramps upon the earth, or ploughs the waters, as if the instincts of life were active within its vast machinery. People stop in crowds to gaze upon the thundering car, that swiftly passes before their vision, miracle as it is; but a ship, steering and turning, tacking, and fleeing up and down, straight forward and across, like a playful bird, without any visible cause why those huge sheets of canvass should so work, is indeed a thing of beauty and of wonder. Then can we be surprised, that genius has taken it in keeping, and poured forth its eloquence upon its journeyings? The sailor's life is full of incident, and his "yarns" are proverbial. Who will forget the "Rhyme of the Ancient The plot of the story, which we have thought best to Mariner" of Coleridge, dread tale of supernatural and conceal from our readers, is as yet unrevealed. Two | hellish sublimity? It is the dreariest and vastest story more forthcoming volumes are necessary to complete of the sea that ever fell inspired from the pen; and it the catastrophe, and what that catastrophe will be can easily be seen, for it must result naturally from the events that have been already recorded. It is not for us to turn the sibylline leaves to the world, for then the

tears.

swept over us like a ghastly visitant from deeps unknown, pale realms of awe and terror, and has its monument of praise amid our frightened dispositions. Mr. Cooper is an American writer by feeling, and we

marked characters, sufficient to people the scenes of a well wrought fiction, all thrown together, to contribute by their words and actions to the conduct of a symmetrical plot. Further, no man's true disposition or mental qualities appear at first sight, and in all that he says and does. A lifetime scarce serves fully to develope them. In fact, human nature is so complex, in each instance made up of so many different and even conflicting elements, that every day spent in the company of our most intimate companions must teach us something new in regard to their characters. All per sons, too, say and do much in every situation that contributes nothing to our knowledge of them. But in fiction must be congregated, and put in harmonious action, a large number of highly interesting and strongly marked personages. No word or deed, not serving to illustrate some one's peculiarities, or to carry on the thread of the story, should be suffered to clog its course. Character must be so concentrated, that the reader may at once comprehend the whole, and experience, from every further exhibition of it, but the strengthening or renewal of his first impressions. But this cannot be done, if an author attempt to delineate mind in all its natural complexity of feature and expression, and, therefore, the most interesting characters are those in which some one or a very few striking peculiarities are personified. Such an one the reader is able perfectly and at once to understand, at the same time that he feels a great degree of self-satisfaction, with what he is apt to consider his own ready discernment, displayed in this act of comprehension.

ferred to that future state, in order that his preconceived notions of justice should be there vindicated. In this case, therefore, a deviation from nature is generally necessary. But we need not give any further examples to enforce the rule laid down. If the few mentioned were the only ones which could be adduced, it would seem established in the fullest sense of its terms.

The style of novels should be sprightly and piquant, racy, nervous, and easy; sometimes imitating the grave stateliness of history, but much oftener the light flow of the drama. It admits of much varied ornament. The most fanciful images and flowers of poetry may, with good effect, be profusely shed over its plainer frame-work. It is in the dramatic or conversational parts that the author's talent is most severely tested, and most frequently fails. Here are to be avoided the opposite faults of too close an imitation of the colloquial freedom and vulgarity of real life, and the measured, pompous style of Johnsonian phraseology. Mr. Cooper most frequently sins in the latter respect, by making his characters of every degree speak too much after the fashion of books; but less, perhaps, in the volumes before us, than in some of his previous fictions. The novelist must not suppose,

"Ut nihil intersit, Davusne loquatur, et audax Pythias, emuncto lucrata Simone talentum, An custos famulusque dei Silenus alumni." But it is in bad taste to make every menial a sworn enemy of all grammatical rules, and every well educated man, a pompous declaimer. Indeed in the former case as might have been mentioned under the last head, nature should usually be refined upon: her pictures are frequently too coarse and indelicate for eyes polite. But here greater license may be taken, when it is part of an author's plan, to represent the true character and manners of any particular class. And, indeed, the style and tone of conversation must always depend much upon the object proposed--whether the writer aims merely at making his story interesting, or wishes also to make it a vehicle for religious, moral, literary, or political discussion. Mr. Cooper tells us that he intends, in the sequel, to attempt a delineation of American society, and the execution of this plan he has commenced in the work before us. Of course such a subject properly gives rise to much grave and oratorical conversation.

When a person is acted upon by strong passions, especially when they operate to oppress and weigh down the spirit, it is unnatural for the feelings to be expressed in language. The stronger emotions of the soul, either because the inadequacy of words is felt, or because in moments of extreme agitation our relations with surrounding humanity are forgotten, or our sense is incoherent and confused, are generally lost in silence, or betrayed only by inarticulate or vague exclamations, or by mere bodily action-such as the working of the countenance. But in the drama, where the whole plot is developed in conversation, it is necessary so far to deviate from nature, as to make the deepest feelings and emotions find expression in language exactly significant and descriptive; and this is the most difficult part of the dramatist's task. The same departure from nature is also frequently required in the novel. Those tales are the most interesting, in which there For, conversation though not its only, is its most effec-is no attempt to throw a deep mystery over the issue tive resource. An exhibition of mere dumb feeling will not always be enough: a deeper interest may be given to the narrative by dramatic passages-especially to the delineation of character.

Every fiction should have a moral, not formally set forth at the end, as is customary in the case of fables, yet, in common, most fully developed and illustrated in the conclusion of the narrative. Vice ought usually to be punished and virtue rewarded. The principal actors in the varied scenes over which we have looked, should meet with the fate, which, in a spirit of justice, we have anticipated. Now, in this world, rewards and punishments are not, to our view, thus impartially apportioned. On this undisputed fact has been founded one argument in favor of a future state of suffering, But it is evident that the novel reader cannot be re

of every event, and the character of each person introduced-to confound the reader by great surprisesresults contradicting all his expectations. It is much better that he should anticipate something of the sequel, if the disclosure be made artfully, so that he may attribute much to his own superior discernment. We have already hinted at the advantage of keeping readers in a good humor with themselves. We believe there is nothing which contributes more to the interest which they take in a work. When a striking character is introduced, if a person perusing the sketch has ever had any, even the most confused, crude, imperfect conception of one at all similar, this conception is immediately brought into vivid remembrance, and, though reflecting its light principally from the other, appears often as an original from which that has been copied. VOL. IV-92

But with the occasion and the place comply;
Conceal his force, nay, sometimes seem to fly.
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream."

It seems necessary, on introducing a new character, to give some general idea of the leading peculiarities personified, in order to direct and concentrate attention;

At least, the reader feels as if his observations had been as acute as those of the author. And this coincidence of conception is almost certain to take place, whenever the picture presented is true, in its substance, to nature. If the reader can almost imagine that he himself is tracing out the story; and, if, while one event after another is slowly unfolded, he seems, ever and anon, to catch a glimpse of what yet remains hid-but, as much as possible, the reader should be left to den to persons of sight less quick and minds more dull of comprehension, he takes a double interest in his occupation.

form his own notion of each one, from the subsequent developments of words and actions. A single well drawn scene will impress upon him the characters of the A novel would seem to depend for its excellence various actors, therein, more forcibly than the most lamuch less upon the plot than is usually imagined. A bored description. We think that Mr. Cooper evinces ready invention is often spoken of as the most important great tact in this particular. With little preliminary faculty of a writer of fiction. But we think the sha-form, all his personages are placed before us, to speak ding has more to do with the general effect than the and act for themselves. The reader's idea of them is outline; and, therefore, that great skill in mixing and perhaps the better for not being in every respect precise. laying on the colors is preferable to proficiency in the His comprehension should be only so exact, that each art of drawing; though the latter is by no means of new development should appear but to strengthen first small importance. A plot may be so meager that impressions, having, at the same time, a certain freshness and novelty. Mere bodily attractions or accomnothing will supply the deficiency; and that every effort to make up for it by a profusion of incident only plishments, however well described, cannot make a character interesting. Even the highest order of feserves to render it the more apparent. But meagerness of plot is not one of the most common faults of male beauty, exciting as in the reality it may be, cannot novel writers. More fail in the embellishment than in of itself, in fiction, though never so glowingly depicted, the frame-work of their fictions. Incompleteness of awaken those feelings akin to the warmest love, which novel-readers often experience. Mental and moral outline is a still rarer defect; for most authors form a general sketch of the whole at first, to be afterwards qualifications are those which strike most forcibly, and filled up, and extended to the dimensions of two or they always seem to draw after them, at least, a vague three volumes. A tale may be finished and complete notion of bodily appearance. We always form an idea of the person and carriage of those by whose endowin itself and yet be only part of a continuous narrative-continuous as regards some important personage ments of mind and heart, however exhibited, we have been interested. None can read Bulwer's highly therein, or in respect of the whole plot. Of the former kind are three of Cooper's previous fictions, in all wrought delineation of the brilliant genius and glowing soul of Florence Lascelles-her commanding intellect and which appears the same character-the most interesting one which they exhibit-though in each under a dif- sparkling wit; her proud self-confidence, yet complete ferent guise: first, as Leatherstocking; then, as Hawk-devotion-without robing these spiritual attributes in eye; and lastly, as the Trapper. Tales of the second the fairest drapery of earth, to whose bright tints and kind cannot well be as complete in themselves as those just mentioned; but still, like Ernest Maltravers, may conclude with a disposition of the various actors, which might be satisfactory if no sequel were promised, and, which at any rate, makes a six months' interval between the two parts an easily tolerable state of proba

tion.

graceful folds the novelist's description can add scarce any line of beauty, or delicate richness of hue. A character, then, which is to hold an important place in the story, does not need much formal explanation, but should be developed in action; and, of course, one, in which it is not intended that we should feel any particular interest, needs no description at all. This leads It is scarcely possible, and not at all necessary, that a us to remark, that, where a character is introduced continual and deeply exciting interest should be kept merely en passant, and takes but a momentary part in up throughout every part of a novel: indeed, the read the scene, it should not be made interesting to the reader's feelings will hardly bear such prolonged tension: er, lest a feeling of disappointment follow its disappearsatiety and exhaustion are apt to be the consequence. ance. Such a disappointment we feel at the speedy It has been remarked of a late English work of fiction-fate of Brooks, the gallant young sailor, who during "Tom Cringle's Log”—that, though on its original pub-Paul Powis, the hero of Cooper's story, with the recog the fight with the Arabs on the coast of Africa, greets lication, by monthly chapters, in the pages of a maga-nition of a former acquaintance in sea service, and then is zine, it delighted all its readers, after being compacted into the form of a book, the profusion of exciting interest which it contained, highly entertaining when doled out in small portions, became wearisome and palled on the appetite. The author may sometimes sleep in order that his readers should enjoy occasional repose.

"operi in longo fas est obrepere somnum,"

very coolly despatched, and, afterwards, not even remembered in the recapitulation of the killed and wounded.

A character, after being once so presented to the reader, that he seems to have gotten a general comprehension of its peculiarities, ought not to change in any important particular, except where, at first, a mask has been worn to hide the true features. Of such a fault al

saith Horace: perhaps he might better have said with so we have an example in the work before us. John

our own poet,

"A prudent chief not always does display

His powers in equal ranks and fair array;

Effingham-the cold, sarcastic, skeptical wit―becomes, beside the death-bed of Mr. Monday, a humane and attentive nurse-a tender, warm-hearted and benevo

coast. These introductory scenes are of a highly interesting and stirring nature, are well depicted, and, besides, give an admirable opportunity, which the author skilfully improves, to introduce the various characters above noticed to the reader.

lent friend. The change undoubtedly makes him ap- er, cannot point him out, and, at last, after being carried pear more amiable; but it mystifies and discourages some distance into the channel, hoping that a boat the reader, who had thought his character perfectly which pursues, and has on board a person who can well understood. identify the man, may overtake the ship, is obliged to Thus ends our preface, and now we come to the in- leave her, much to the joy of all the passengers, who troduction-of Mr. Cooper to our readers; for we are have become greatly interested in Davis and his young as fond of formal introductions as Captain Truck him- wife, though not before the chase is apparently taken self. When we first heard that 'Homeward-Bound-up by the Foam, a British corvette, cruising on the A Tale of the Sea,' was in press, we hailed with delight the novelist's return to his own good ship and ancient cruising ground; for, with many others, we had lamented his late rover life, and thought that he was gaining neither honor nor gold thereby. And when the book made its appearance, in its plain, rather slovenly American dress, eagerly did we seek after it, and, with the most agreeable anticipations, sit down to the perusal of it, endeavoring to forget or overlook the last few years, and to connect together those longer past, the present and the future, in a continuous chain of happy recollections, agreeable sensations, and brightening prospects. If we rose disappointed from the task, commenced in such a pleasant frame of mind, it was not because the book seemed entirely devoid of merit; and if, in the following pages, we blame more than we praise, as an apology we would say,

'Indignor quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus.'

And here should it in justice be acknowledged, that the story has interested us much, and that we look, with impatience for the sequel; not however with such high-wrought expectation as welcomed the announce

ment of these volumes.

To begin at the beginning, we must remark that Mr. Cooper's preface seems to us one of the most unfortunate specimens of preface-writing, which we remember ever to have fallen upon. When we say that it is a childish attempt at mock naïveté, we express in terms hardly strong enough our own impression. With this brief notice of it, however, we pass to the story itself, of which, in order that our observations may be the better understood, we shall give a brief outline.

The Foam continues the pursuit day after day, until it can be no longer doubtful that her object is to overhaul the packet. Captain Truck, fearful that some of his sailors may have been guilty of smuggling tobacco, and thus have made the ship liable to seizure, is fertile in expedients for escape; but every morning's dawn reveals the corvette still in sight and in chase, despite the manœuvres which the darkness has covered, until the packet is far out of her course, and her captain contemplates running to the Cape de Verde islands to gain a neutral ground. A dreadful gale ensues; both vessels, after lying-to as long as possible, are obliged to scud before the wind. The Foam gains rapidly on her chase; at the morning dawn she appears in the dim light careering on close in the Montauk's wake; then they are beam and beam, and for one fearful moment seem about to come into collision; but "affrighted," they recede; the corvette bounds past, driven before the gale, and soon disappears from the horizon, Captain Truck benevolently conjecturing that she has found a rocky bed on the shores of Africa. The Montauk afterwards is dismasted, and, another vessel bound to New York falling in with her, all the passengers, except the dramatis persona of the novel, who, for Mr. Cooper's convenience, prefer to remain, are transferred to the latter. Jury masts are then erected, but soon "land, ho!" is the cry, and they find themselves near the African coast. At a little distance, high up on the sand, The scene is laid principally on the ocean, and is lies a Danish vessel. They visit her, and find her to dated two years back. Mr. Edward Effingham, a wi- have been rifled by the Arabs; and not far off is disdower, with his lovely daughter, Eve, and his cousin, covered the body of one of the crew murdered by these John Effingham, set sail from London, in the Montauk savages. Captain Truck determines to possess himpacket, of New York, Captain Truck. Among the pas- self of the Dane's spars; he manages to get his vessel sengers they meet with two gentlemen, Mr. Blunt and safely moored within the reefs lining the coast; and Mr. Sharp, whom they recognise as former acquaint- leaving the Effinghams, with Mr. Sharp and Mr. Blunt, ances, having met them in their rambles over the conti- on board, takes all the rest, both seamen and passennent, both of them now travelling under false names; gers, to the wreck, which is some leagues off, concealed one from mere caprice, the other perhaps for a more from view by an intervening point of land. The spars, solid reason. Besides these are introduced to the reader, after a bloodless encounter with the Arabs, are unshipSir George Templemore, a silly English baronet, de-ped and formed into a raft; and, on the second night, lighting in a plenitude of costly clothing, fine jewelry, the successful party moor near the point which hides and splendid "notions"-particularly in a set of razors, the Montauk from sight. In the meantime the ship is a dressing case, and thirty-six pair of pantaloons; Mr. visited by the barbarians; the passengers, under the Dodge, a Yankee newspaper editor, who has paid a guidance of Mr. Blunt, who proves an expert seaman, flying visit of six months to Europe, has "seen all he escape in the long-boat, after many perils, and, on the warnts to see," and is returning to resume his station dawn of the next morning, fall in with Captain Truck beside the forms of "The Dodgetown Active Enquirer," and his party. After a desperate struggle, and the loss and to publish voluminous notes of foreign travel; and of several lievs, the Montauk is rescued, her new masts Mr. Monday, an itinerant mercantile agent. While the are stepped, and she is gotten again to sea. During packet is getting under-weigh, a police officer comes on these adventures, Mr. Blunt becomes Paul Powis, and board with a warrant for a steerage passenger named Mr. Sharp, Sir George Templemore-the other passenDavis, but, not knowing the face of his intended prison-ger of that name proving but a pseudo-baronet. Only