ations Lord Colambre had formed, his Lordship a stick. But where will I get your honour's hand Y and his companions arrived at Tusculum; where for it's coming on so dark, I can't see rightly. he found Mrs. Raffarty, and Miss Juliana O'Leary, There! you're up now safe. Yonder candle's the very elegant with a large party of the ladies and house. Well, go and ask whether they can give gentlemen of Bray assembled in a drawing-room, us a night's lodging. Is it ask? When I see the fine with bad pictures and gaudy gilding; the win-light!-Sure they'd be proud to give the traveller dows were all shut, and the company were playing all the beds in the house, let alone one. Take care cards, with all their might. This was the fashion of the potatoe furrows, that's all, and follow me of the neighbourhood. In compliment to Lord straight. I'll go on to meet the dog, who knows Colambre and the officers, the ladies left the card- me, and might be strange to your honour.' tables; and Mrs. Raffarty, observing that his Lordship seemed partial to walking, took him out, as she said, to do the honours of nature and art.'

"Kindly welcome!' were the first words Lord Colambre heard when he approached the cottage; and kindly welcome' was in the sound of the voice, and in the countenance of the old woman, who came out shading her rush candle from the he entered the cottage, he saw a cheerful fire and a neat pretty young woman making it blaze: she curtsied, put her spinning wheel out of the way, set a stool by the fire for the stranger; and repeating in a very low tone of voice, Kindly welcome, sir,' retired. 'Put down some eggs, dear, there's plenty in the bowl,' said the old woman, calling to her; I'll do the bacon. Was not we lucky to be up -The boy's gone to bed, but waken him,' said she, turning to the postilion; and he will help you with the chay, and put your horses in the bier for the night.""

"The dinner had two great faults-profusion and pretension. There was, in fact ten times more on the table than was necessary; and the entertain-wind, and holding it so as to light the path. When ment was far above the circumstances of the person by whom it was given: for instance, the dish of fish at the head of the table had been brought across the island from Sligo, and had cost five guineas; as the lady of the house failed not to make known. But, after all, things were not of a piece: there was a disparity between the entertainment and the attendants; there was no proportion or fitness of things. A painful endeavour at what could not be atrained, and a toiling in vain to conceal and repair deficiencies and blunders. Had the mistress of the house been quiet; had she, as Mrs. Broadhurst would say, but let things alone, let things take their course; all would have passed off with well-bred people but she was incessantly apologising, and fussing and fretting inwardly and outwardly, and directing and calling to her servants-striving to make a butler who was deaf, and a boy who was hair-brained, do the business of five accomplished footmen of parts and figure. Mrs. Raffarty called Larry! Larry! My Lord's plate there!-James! bread, to Captain Bowles!-James! port wine, to the Major. James! James Kenny! James!' And panting James toiled after her in vain. At length one course was fairly got through; and after a torturing half hour, the second course appeared, and James Kenny was intent upon one thing, and Larry upon another, so that the wine sauce for the hare was spilt by their collision; but what was worse, there seemed little chance that the whole of this second course should ever be placed altogether rightly upon the table. Mrs. Raffarty cleared her throat and nodded, and pointed, and sighed, and set Larry after Kenny, and Kenny after Larry; for what one did, the other undid; but at last, the lady's anger kindled, and she spoké!-'Kenny! James Kenny, set the sea-cale at this corner, and put down the grass, cross-corners; and match your maccaroni yonder with them puddens, set-Ogh! James! the pyramid in the middle can't ye.' The pyramid in changing places was overturned. Then it was, that the mistress of the feast, falling back in her seat, and lifting up her hands and eyes in despair, ejaculated: Oh, James! James! The pyramid was raised by the assistance of the military engineers, and stood trembling again on its base; but the lady's temper could not be so easily restored to its equilibrium."-pp. 25-28.

No: Larry chose to go on to Clonbrony with the horses, that he might get the chaise mended betimes for his honour. The table was set; clean trenchers, hot potatoes, milk, eggs, bacon, and kindly welcome to all.' 'Set the salt, dear; and the butter, love; where's your head, Grace, dear ? Grace!' repeated Lord Colambre, looking up; and to apologise for his involuntary exclamation he added, Is Grace a common name in Ireland ?' 'I can't say, plase your honour, but it was give her by Lady Clonbrony, from a niece of her own that was her foster-sister, God bless her; and a very kind lady she was to us and to all when she was living in it; but those times are gone past,' said the old woman, with a sigh. The young woman sighed too; and sitting down by the fire, began to count the notches in a little bit of stick, which she held in her hand; and after she had counted them, sighed again. But don't be sighing, Grace, now,' said the old woman; sighs is bad sauce for the traveller's supper; and we won't be troubling him with more,' added she, turning to Lord Colambre, with a smile- Is your egg done to your liking?' Perfectly, thank you.' Then I wish it was a chicken for your sake, which it should have been, and roast too, had we time. I wish I could see you eat another egg.' No more, thank you, my good lady; I never ate a better supper, nor received a more hospitable welcome.' 'O, the welcome is all we have to offer.'

"May I ask what that is?' said Lord Colambre, looking at the notched stick, which the young wo man held in her hand, and on which her eyes were still fixed. It's a tally, plase your honour-O you're a foreigner-It's the way the labourer keeps the account of the day's work with the overseer. And there's been a mistake, and is a dispute here between our boy and the overseer; and she was counting the boy's tally, that's in bed, tired, for in troth he's over-worked.' Would you want any thing more from me, mother,' said the girl, rising No, child; get away, and turning her head away. for your heart's full She went instantly. Is the boy her brother?' said Lord Colambre.No: he's her bachelor,' said the old woman, lowering her voice. Her bachelor? That is, her sweetheart for she is not my daughter, though you heard her call me mother. The boy's my son; but I am afeard they must give it up; for they're too poor, and the times is hard-and the agent's harder than the times! There's two of them, the under and the upper; and they grind the substance of one between them, and then blow one away like chaff: but we'll not be talking of that, to spoil your hon

our's night's rest. The room's ready, and here's the rush light.' She showed him into a very small, but neat room. What a comfortable looking bed,' said Lord Colambre. Ah, these red check curains,' said she, letting them down; these have lasted well; they were give me by a good friend now far away, over the seas, my Lady Clonbrony; and made by the prettiest hands ever you see, her neice's, Miss Grace Nugent's, and she a little child that time; sweet love! all gone!' The old woman wiped a tear from her eye, and Lord Colambre did what he could to appear indifferent. She set down the candle and left the room; Lord Colambre went to bed, but he lay awake, 'revolving sweet and bitter thoughts.'

|

prevent her pursuing her observations from the hand to the face, which might have betrayed more than Lord Colambre wished she should know, her own Grace came in at this instant-There, it's for you safe, mother dear-the lase!' said Grace, throwing a packet into her lap. The old woman lifted up her hands to heaven with the lease between themThanks be to Heaven! Grace passed on, and sunk down on the first seat she could reach. Her face flushed, and, looking much fatigued, she loosened the strings of her bonnet and cloak. Then, I'm tired!' but recollecting herself, she rose, and curtsied to the gentleman. What tired ye, dear ?

Why, after prayers, we had to go-for the agent was not at prayers, nor at home for us, when we "The kettle was on the fire, tea things set, called-we had to go all the way up to the castle ; every thing prepared for her guest, by the hospita- and there by great good luck, we found Mr. Nick ble hostess, who, thinking the gentleman would Garraghty himself, come from Dublin, and the lase take tea to his breakfast, had sent off a gossoon by in his hands; and he sealed it up that way, and the first light to Clonbrony, for an ounce of tea, a handed it to me very civil. I never saw him so quarter of sugar, and a loaf of white bread; and good-though he offered me a glass of spirits, there was on the little table good cream, milk, which was not manners to a decent young woman, butter, eggs-all the promise of an excellent break-in a morning-as Brian noticed after.' But why fast. It was a fresh morning, and there was a plea. didn't Brian come home all the way with you, sant fire on the hearth neatly swept up. The old Grace?' He would have seen me home,' said woman was sitting in her chimney corner, behind a Grace, only that he went up a piece of the mounlittle skreen of white-washed wall, built out into tain for some stones or ore for the gentleman,-for the room, for the purpose of keeping those who sat he had the manners to think of him this morning, at the fire from the blast of the door. There was a though shame for me, I had not, when I came in, loop-hole in this wall, to let the light in, just at the or I would not have told you all this, and he himself height of a person's head, who was sitting near the by. See, there he is, mother.'-Brian came in very chimney. The rays of the morning sun now came hot, out of breath, with his hat full of stones. 'Good through it, shining across the face of the old woman, morrow to your honour. I was in bed last night; as she sat knitting; Lord Colambre thought he had and sorry they did not call me up to be of sarvice seldom seen a more agreeable countenance; intelli- Larry was telling us, this morning, your honour's gent eyes, benevolent smile, a natural expression from Wales, and looking for mines in Ireland, and of cheerfulness, subdued by age and misfortune. I heard talk that there was one on our mountain→→→ A good morrow to you kindly, sir, and I hope may be, you'd be curious to see; and so, I brought you got the night well?-A fine day for us this the best I could, but I'm no judge.' Sunday morning; my Grace is gone to early prayers, so your honour will be content with an old woman to make your breakfast.-0, let me put in plenty, or it will never be good; and if your honour takes stirabout, an old hand will engage to make that to your liking any way, for by great happiness we have what will just answer for you, of the nicest meal the miller made my Grace a compliment of, last time she went to the mill.'"-pp. 171–179.

In the course of conversation, she informs her guest of the precarious tenure on which she held the little possession that formed her only means of subsistence.

Vol. vi. pp. 182-188.

A scene of villainy now begins to disclose itself, as the experienced reader must have anticipated. The pencil writing is rubbed out: but the agent promises, that if they pay up their arrears, and be handsome, with their sealing money and glove money, &c. he will grant a renewal. To obtain the rent, the widow is obliged to sell her cow.-But she shall tell her story in her own words.

"Well, still it was but paper we got for the cow; then that must be gold before the agent would take, "The good lord himself granted us the lase; or touch it-so I was laying out to sell the dresser, the life's dropped, and the years is out: but we and had taken the plates and cups, and little things had a promise of renewal in writing from the land- off it, and my boy was lifting it out with Andy the lord. God bless him! if he was not away, he'd carpenter, that was agreeing for it, when in comes De a good gentleman, and we'd be happy and safe.' Grace, all rosy, and out of breath-it's a wonder I But if you have a promise in writing of a renewal, minded her run out, and not missed her Mother, Burely, you are safe, whether your landlord is absent says she, here's the gold for you, don't be stirring or present. Ah, no! that makes a great differ, your dresser.-And where's your own gown and when there's no eye or hand over the agent.-Yet, cloak, Grace? says I. But, I beg your pardon, indeed, there,' added she, after a pause, as you sir; may be I'm tiring you?'-Lord Colambre en say, I think we are safe; for we have that memo-couraged her to go on. Where's your gown and randum in writing, with a pencil, under his own band, on the back of the lase, to me, by the same token when my good lord had his foot on the step of the coach, going away; and I'll never forget he smile of her that got that good turn done for me, Miss Grace. And just when she was going to England and London, and young as she was, to have the thought to stop and turn to the likes of me! O, then, if you could see her, and know her as I did! That was the comforting angel upon earth-look and voice, and heart and all! O, that she was here present, this minute!-But did you scald yourself?' said the widow to Lord Colambre. Sure, you must have scalded yourself; for you poured the kettle straight over your hand, and it boiling! O deear! to think of so young a gentle man's hand shaking so like my own. Luckily, to 66

cloak, Grace, says I.'- Gone,' says she. The
cloak was too warm and heavy, and I don't doubt,
mother, but it was that helped to make me faint
this morning. And as to the gown, sure I've a
very nice one here, that you spun for me yourself,
mother; and that I prize above all the gowns that
ever came out of a loom; and that Brian said be
came me to his fancy above any gown ever he see
me wear, and what could I wish for more.'-Now,
I'd a mind to scold her for going to sell the gown
unknown'st to me; but I don't know how it was
I couldn't scold her just then, so kissed her, and
Brian the same; and that was what no man ever
did before.-And she had a mind to be angry with
him, but could not, nor ought not, says I; for he's
as good as your husband now, Grace; and no man
can part yees now, says I, putting their hands to•

2T 2

gether. Well, I never saw her look so pretty; nor followed them. My lady laning on my young lord, there was not a happier boy that minute on God's and Miss Grace Nugent that was, the beautifullest earth than my son, nor a happier mother than my-angel that ever you set eyes on, with the finest self; and I thanked God that he had given them to complexion and sweetest of smiles, laning upon me; and down they both fell on their knees for my the old lord's arm, who had his hat off, bowing to blessing, little worth as it was; and my heart's all, and noticing the old tenants as he passed by blessing they had, and I laid my hands upon them. name. O, there was great gladness, and tears in the It's the priest you must get to do this for you to- midst; for joy I could scarcely keep from myself. morrow, says I"-Vol. vi. pp. 205-207.

Next morning they go up in high spirits to the castle, where the villanous agent denies his promise; and is laughing at their despair, when Lord Colambre is fortunately identified by Mrs. Raffarty, who turns out to be a sister of the said agent, and, like a god in epic poetry, turns agony into triumph!

We can make room for no more now, but the epistle of Larry Brady, the good-natured postboy, to his brother, giving an account of the return of the family to Clonbrony. If Miss Edgeworth had never written any other thing, this one letter must have placed her at the very top of our scale, as an observer of character, and a mistress in the simple pathetic. We give the greater part of this ex-Colambre 'troduced Grace to Miss Nugent, and traordinary production.

"After a turn or two upon the tirrass, my Lord he come to the edge of the slope, and looked down Colambre quit his mother's arm for a minute, and and through all the crowd for some one. Is it the widow O'Neill, my lord?' says I; she's yonder, with the spectacles on her nose, betwixt her son and daughter, as usual.' Then my lord beckoned, and then he gave tree beckons with his own finger and they did not know which of the tree would stir; and they all tree came fast enough to the bottom of the slope, forenent my lord; and he went down and helped the widow up. (O, he's the true jantleman,) and brought 'em all tree upon the tirrass, to my lady and Miss Nugent; and I was up close after, that I might hear, which wasn't manners, but I couldn't help it! So what he said I don't well know, for I could not get near enough after all. But I saw my lady smile very kind, and take the widow O'Neill by the hand, and then my Lord there was the word namesake, and something about a check curtains; but whatever it was, they was all greatly pleased: then my Lord Colambre turned and looked for Brian, who had fell back, and took him with some commendation to my lord his father. And my lord the master said, which I didn't know till after, that they should have their house and farm at the ould rent; and at the surprise, the widow dropped down dead; and there was a cry as for ten berrings. Be qu'ite,' says I, she's only kilt for joy;' and I went and lift her up, for her son had no more strength that minute than the child new born; and Grace trembled like a leaf, as white as the sheet, but not long, for the mother came to, and was as well as ever when I brought some water, which Miss Nugent handed to her with her own hand.

"My dear brother,-Yours of the 16th, enclosing the five pound note for my father, came safe to hand Monday last; and, with his thanks and blessing to you, he commends it to you herewith enclosed back again, on account of his being in no immediate necessity, nor likelihood to want in future, as you shall hear forthwith; but wants you over, with all speed, and the note will answer for travelling charges; for we can't enjoy the luck it has pleased God to give us, without yees: put the rest in your pocket, and read it when you've time. "Now, cock up your ears, Pat! for the great news is coming, and the good. The master's come home-long life to him!-and family come home yesterday, all entirely! The ould lord and the young lord, (ay there's the man, Paddy !) and my "That was always pretty and good,' said the lady, and Miss Nugent. And I driv Miss Nugent's widow, laying her hand upon Miss Nugent, and maid, that maid that was, and another; so I had kind and good to me and mine. That minute there the luck to be in it alone widem, and see all, from was music from below. The blind harper, O'Neill, first to last. And first, I must tell you, my young with his harp, that struck up Gracey Nugent !' Lord Colambre remembered and noticed me the And that finished, and my Lord Colambre smiling minute he hit at our inn, and condescended to with the tears standing in his eyes too, and the ould beckon at me out of the yard to him, and axed me- lord quite wiping his, I ran to the tirrass brink to Friend Larry,' says he, did you keep your pro-bid O'Neill play it again; but as I run, I thought mise? My oath again the whiskey is it?' says I. My Lord, I surely did,' said I; which was true, as all the country knows I never tasted a drop since. And I'm proud to see your honour, my lord, as good as your word too, and back again among us. So then there was a call for the horses; and no more at that time passed betwix' my young lord and me, but that he pointed me out to the ould one, as I went off. I noticed and thanked him for it in my heart, though I did not know all the good was to come of it. Well no more of myself, for the present.

Ogh, it's I driv 'em well; and we all got to the great gate of the park before sunset, and as fine an evening as ever you see; with the sun shining on the tops of the trees, as the ladies noticed the leaves changed, but not dropped, though so late in the season. I believe the leaves knew what they were about, and kept on, on purpose to welcome them; and the birds were singing; and I stopped whistling, that they might hear them: but sorrow bit could they hear when they got to the park gate, for there was such a crowd, and such a shout, as you never see-and they had the horses off every carriage entirely, and drew 'em home, with blessings, through the park. And, God bless 'em, when they got out, they didn't go shut themselves up in the great drawing-room, but went straight out to the tirrass, to satisty the eyes and hearts that

I heard a voice call Larry.

"Who calls Larry?' says I. 'My Lord Co. lambre calls you, Larry,' says all at once; and four takes me by the shoulders, and spins me round. There's my young lord calling you, Larry-run for your life. So I run back for my life, and walked respectful, with my hat in my hand, when I got near. Put on your hat, my father desires it,' says my Lord Colambre. The ould lord made a sign to that purpose, but was too full to speak. Where's your father?' continues my young lord. He's very ould, my lord,' says I.-I didn't as you how ould he was,' says he; but where is he?' He's behind the crowd below; on account of his infirmities he couldn't walk so fast as the rest, my lord,' says I; but his heart is with you, if not his body.'-I must have his body too: so bring him bodily before us; and this shall be your war rant for so doing,' said my lord, joking. For he knows the natur of us, Paddy, and how we love a joke in our hearts, as well as if he had lived all his life in Ireland; and by the same token will, for that rason, do what he pleases with us, and more may be than a man twice as good, that never would smile on us.

"But I'm telling you of my father. I've a warrant for you, father,' says I; and must have you bodily before the justice, and my lord chief justice.' So he changed colour a bit at first; but

4

(November, 1814.)

Waverly, or 'Tis Sixty Years Since. In three volumes 12mo. pp. 1112. Third Edition. Edinburgh: 1814.*

Ir is wonderful what genius and adherence | written-composed, one half of it, in a diato nature will do, in spite of all disadvan- lect unintelligible to four-fifths of the reading tages. Here is a thing obviously very hastily, population of the country-relating to a period and, in many places, somewhat unskilfully too recent to be romantic, and too far gone by

*I have been a good deal at a loss what to do with these famous novels of Sir Walter. On the one hand, I could not bring myself to let this collection go forth, without some notice of works which, for many years together, had occupied and delighted me more than any thing else that ever came under my critical survey: While, on the other, I could not but feel that it would be absurd, and in some sense almost dishonest, to fill these pages with long citations from books which, for the last twenty-five years, have been in the hands of at least fifty times as many readers as are ever likely to look into this publication and are still as familiar to the generation which has last come into existence, as to those who can yet remember the sensation produced by their first appearance. In point of fact I was informed, but the other day, by Mr. Caddell, that he had actually sold not less than sixty thousand volumes of these extraordinary productions, in the course of the preceding year! and that the demand for them, instead of slackening-had been for some time sensibly on the increase. In these circumstances I think I may safely assume that their contents are still so perfectly known as not to require any citations to introduce such of the remarks originally made on them as I may now wish to repeat. And I have therefore come to the determination of omitting almost all the quotations, and most of the detailed abstracts which appeared in the original |

to be familiar and published, moreover, in a quarter of the island where materials and talents for novel-writing have been supposed to be equally wanting: And yet, by the mere force and truth and vivacity of its colouring, already casting the whole tribe of ordinary novels into the shade, and taking its place rather with the most popular of our modern poems, than with the rubbish of provincial romances. The secret of this success, we take it, is merely that the author is a man of Genius; and that he has, notwithstanding, had virtue enough to be true to Nature throughout; and to content himself, even in the marvellous parts of his story, with copying from actual existences, rather than from the phantasms of his own imagination. The charm which this communicates to all works that deal in the representation of human actions and character, is more readily felt than understood; and operates with unfailing efficacy even upon those who have no acquaintance with the originals from which the picture has been borrowed. It requires no ordinary talent, indeed, to choose such realities as may outshine the bright imaginations of the inventive, and so to combine them as to produce the most advantageous effect but when this is once accomplished, the result is sure to be something more firm, impressive, and engaging, than can ever be produced by mere fiction.

days of the Heptarchy; and when they saw the array of the West country Whigs, they might imagine themselves transported to the age of Cromwell. The effect, indeed, is almost as startling at the present moment; and one great source of the interest which the volumes before us undoubtedly possess, is to be sought in the surprise that is excited by discovering, that in our own country, and almost in our own age, manners and characters existed, and were conspicuous, which we had been accustomed to consider as belonging to remote antiquity, or extravagant romance.

The way in which they are here represented must satisfy every reader, we think, by an inward tact and conviction, that the delineation has been made from actual experience and observation;-experience and observation employed perhaps only on a few surviving rel cs and specimens of what was familiar a little earlier-but generalised from instances sufficiently numerous and complete, to warrant all that may have been added to the portrait:-And, indeed, the existing records and vestiges of the more extraordinary parts of the representation are still sufficiently abundant, to satisfy all who have the means of consulting them, as to the perfect accuracy of the picture. The great traits of Clannish dependence, pride, and fidelity, may still be detected in many districts of the Highlands, though The object of the work before us, was evi- they do not now adhere to the chieftains when dently to present a faithful and animated pic- they mingle in general society; and the exture of the manners and state of society that isting contentions of Burghers and Antiburghprevailed in this northern part of the island, in ers, and Cameronians, though shrunk into the earlier part of last century; and the au- comparative insignificance, and left, indeed, thor has judiciously fixed upon the era of the without protection to the ridicule of the proRebellion in 1745, not only as enriching his fane, may still be referred to, as complete pages with the interest inseparably attached verifications of all that is here stated about to the narration of such occurrences, but as Gifted Gilfillan, or Ebenezer Cruickshank. affording a fair opportunity for bringing out all The traits of Scottish national character in the the contrasted principles and habits which lower ranks, can still less be regarded as andistinguished the different classes of persons tiquated or traditional; nor is there any thing who then divided the country, and formed in the whole compass of the work which among them the basis of almost all that was gives us a stronger impression of the nice obpeculiar in the national character. That un-servation and graphical talent of the author, fortunate contention brought conspicuously to light, and, for the last time, the fading image of feudal chivalry in the mountains, and vulgar fanaticism in the plains; and startled the more polished parts of the land with the wild but brilliant picture of the devoted valour, incorruptible fidelity, patriarchal brotherhood, and savage habits of the Celtic Clans, on the one hand,—and the dark, intractable, and domineering bigotry of the Covenanters on the other. Both aspects of society had indeed been formerly prevalent in other parts of the country, but had there been so long superseded by more peaceable habits, and milder manners, that their vestiges were almost effaced, and their very memory nearly extinguished. The feudal principalities had been destroyed in the South, for near three hundred years, and the dominion of the Puritans from the time of the Restoration. When the glens, and banded clans, of the central Highlands, therefore, were opened up to the gaze of the English, in the course of that insurrection, it seemed as if they were carried back to the

than the extraordinary fidelity and felicity with which all the inferior agents in the story are represented. No one who has not lived extensively among the lower orders of all descriptions, and made himself familiar with their various tempers and dialects, can perceive the full merit of those rapid and characteristic sketches; but it requires only a general knowledge of human nature, to feel that they must be faithful copies from known originals; and to be aware of the extraordinary facility and flexibility of hand which has touched, for instance, with such discriminating shades, the various gradations of the Celtic character, from the savage imperturbability of Dugald Mahony, who stalks grimly about with his battle-axe on his shoulder, without speaking a word to any one, to the lively unprincipled activity of Callum Beg,-the coarse unreflecting hardihood and heroism of Evan Maccombich, and the pride, gallantry, elegance, and ambition of Fergus himself. In the lower class of the Lowland characters, again, the vulgarity of Mrs. Flockhart and of