kindly to such questioning, for she knew it was not meant unkindly. The cart was soon unladen, and the furniture put into the empty room. A cheerful fire was blazing, and the animated and interested faces of the honest folks who crowded into it, on a slight acquaintance, unceremoniously and curiously, but without rudeness, gave a cheerful welcome to the new dwelling. In a quarter of an hour the beds were laid down the room decently arranged-one and all of the neighbours said, 'Gude night,' and the door was closed upon the Lyndsays in their new dwelling. They blessed and ate their bread in peace. The Bible was then opened, and Margaret read a chapter. There was frequent and loud noise in the lane of passing merriment or anger, but this little congregation worshipped God in a hymn, Esther's sweet voice leading the sacred melody, and they knelt together in prayer. It has been beautifully said by one whose works are not unknown in the dwellings of the poor Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep! Where fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes; And lights on lids unsullied with a tear. Not so did sleep this night forsake the wretched. He came like moonlight into the house of the widow and the fatherless, and, under the shadow of his wings, their souls lay in oblivion of all trouble, or perhaps solaced even with delightful dreams. In 1824 Mr Wilson published another but inferior story, The Foresters. It certainly is a singular and interesting feature in the genius of an author known as an active man of the world, who has spent most of his time in the higher social circles of his native country and in England, and whose scholastic and political tastes would seem to point to a different result, that, instead of portraying the manners with which he is familiar-instead of indulging in witty dialogue or humorous illustration, he should have selected homely Scottish subjects for his works of fiction, and appeared never so happy or so enthusiastic as when expatiating on the joys and sorrows of his humble countrymen in the sequestered and unambitious walks of life. Various other novels issued about this time from the Edinburgh press. MRS JOHNSTONE published anonymously Clan Albyn (1815), a tale written before the appearance of Waverley, and approaching that work in the romantic glow which it casts over Highland character and scenery. Mrs Grant of Laggan (a highly competent authority) has borne testimony to the correctness of the Highland descriptions in 'Clan Albyn.' A second novel, Elizabeth de Bruce, was published by Mrs Johnstone in 1827, |containing happy sketches of familiar Scottish life. This lady is also authoress of some interesting tales for children, The Diversions of Hollycot, The Nights of the Round Table, &c. and is also an extensive contributor to the periodical literature of the day, Her style is easy and elegant, and her writings are marked by good sense and a richly cultivated mind. SIR THOMAS DICK LAUDER, Bart., has written two novels connected with Scottish life and history, Lochandhu, 1825, and The Wolf of Badenoch, 1827. In 1830 Sir Thomas wrote an interesting account of the Great Floods in Morayshire, which happened in the autumn of 1829. He was then a resident among the romantic scenes of this unexampled inundation, and has described its effects with great picturesqueness and beauty, and with many homely and pathetic episodes relative to the suffering people.. Sir Thomas has also published a series of Highland Rambles, much inferior to his early novels, though abounding, like them, in striking descriptions of natural scenery. He has edited Gilpin's Forest Scenery, and Sir Uvedale Price's Essays on the Picturesque, adding much new matter to each; and he was commissioned to write a memorial of her Majesty Queen Victoria's visit to Scotland in 1842. A complete knowledge of his native country, its scenery, people, history, and antiquities-a talent for picturesque delineation -and a taste for architecture, landscape-gardening, and its attendant rural and elegant pursuits, distinguish this author. The Youth and Manhood of Cyril Thornton, 1827, was hailed as one of the most vigorous and interesting fictions of the day. It contained sketches of college life, military campaigns, and other bustling scenes and adventures strongly impressed with truth and reality. Some of the foreign scenes in this work are very vividly drawn. It was the production of the late THOMAS HAMILTON, Esq., who visited America, and wrote a lively ingenious work on the new world, entitled Men and Manners in America, 1833. Mr Hamilton was one of the many travellers who disliked the peculiar customs, the democratic government, and social habits of the Americans; and he spoke his mind freely, but apparently in a spirit of truth and candour. In 1828 a good imitation of the style of Galt was published by MR MOIR of Musselburgh, under the title of The Life of Mansie Waugh, Tailor in Dalkeith. Parts of this amusing autobiography had previously appeared in Blackwood's Magazine, and it was much relished for its quaint simplicity, shrewdness, and exhibition of genuine Scottish character. Among the other writers of fiction who at this time published anonymously in Edinburgh was an English divine, DR JAMES HOOK (1771-1828), the only brother of Theodore Hook, and who was dean of Worcester and archdeacon of Huntingdon. To indulge his native wit and humour, and perhaps to spread those loyal Tory principles which, like his brother, he carried to their utmost extent, Dr Hook wrote two novels, Pen Owen, 1822, and Percy Mallory, 1823. They are clever irregular works, touching on modern events and living characters, and discussing various political questions which then engaged attention. Pen Owen' is the superior novel, and contains some good humour and satire on Welsh genealogy and antiquities. Dr Hook wrote several political pamphlets, sermons, and charges. ANDREW PICKEN was born at Paisley in the year 1788. He was the son of a manufacturer, and brought up to a mercantile life. He was engaged in business for some time in the West Indies, afterwards in a bank in Ireland, in Glasgow, and in Liverpool. At the latter place he established himself as a bookseller, but was unsuccessful, chiefly through some speculations entered into at that feverish period, which reached its ultimatum in the panic of 1826. Mr Picken then went to London to pursue literature as a profession. While resident in Glasgow, he published his first work, Tales and Sketches of the West of Scotland, which gave offence by some satirical portraits, but was generally esteemed for its local fidelity and natural painting. His novel of The Sectarian; or the Church and the Meeting-House, three volumes, 1829, displayed more vigorous and concentrated powers; but the subject was unhappy, and the pictures which the author drew of the dissenters, representing them as selfish, hypocritical, and sordid, irritated a great body of the public. Next year Mr Picken made a more successful appearance. The Dominie's Legacy, three volumes, was warmly welcomed by novel readers, and a second edition was called for by the end of the year. This work consists of a number of Scottish stories (like Mr Carleton's Irish Tales), some humorous and some pathe 1 tic. Minister Tam and Mary Ogilvy approach near to the happiest efforts of Galt. The characters and incidents are alike natural and striking. The same year our author conciliated the evangelical dissenters by an interesting religious compilation-Travels and Researches of Eminent English Missionaries; including a Historical Sketch of the Progress and Present State of the Principal Protestant Missions of late Years. In 1831 Mr Picken issued The Club-Book, a collection of original tales by different authors. Mr James, Tyrone Power, Galt, Mr Moir, James Hogg, Mr Jerdan, and Allan Cunningham, contributed each a story, and the editor himself added two-The Deer Stalkers, and the Three Kearneys. His next work was Traditionary Stories of Old Families, the first part of a series which was to embrace the legendary history of England, Scotland, and Ireland. Such a work might be rendered highly interesting and popular, for almost every old family has some traditionary lore-some tale of love, or war, or superstition-that is handed down from generation to generation. Mr Picken now applied himself to another Scottish novel, The Black Watch (the original name of the gallant 42d regiment); and he had just completed this work when he was struck with an attack of apoplexy, which in a fortnight proved fatal. He died on the 23d of November 1833. Mr Picken, according to one of his friends, 'was the dominie of his own tales-simple, affectionate, retiring; dwelling apart from the world, and blending in all his views of it the gentle and tender feelings reflected from his own mind.' MISS FERRIER. This lady is authoress of Marriage, published in 1818, The Inheritance, 1824, and Destiny, or the Chief's Daughter, 1831-all novels in three volumes each. We learn from Mr Lockhart's Life of Scott, that Miss Ferrier is daughter of James Ferrier, Esq., 'one of Sir Walter's brethren of the clerk's table; and the great novelist, at the conclusion of the Tales of My Landlord, alluded to his 'sister shadow,' the author of the very lively work entitled Marriage,' as one of the labourers capable of gathering in the large harvest of Scottish character and fiction. In his private diary he has also mentioned Miss Ferrier as a gifted personage, having, besides her great talents, conversation the least exigeante of any au * * In describing the melancholy situation of Sir Walter the year before his death, Mr Lockhart introduces Miss Ferrier in a very amiable light. To assist them (the family of Scott) in amusing him in the hours which he spent out of his study, and especially that he might be tempted to make those hours more frequent, his daughters had invited his friend the authoress of "Marriage" to come out to Abbotsford; and her coming was serviceable: for she knew and loved him well, and she had seen enough of affliction akin to his to be well skilled in dealing with it. She could not be an hour in his company without observing what filled his children with more sorrow than all the rest of the case. He would begin a story as gaily as ever, and go on, in spite of the hesitation in his speech, to tell it with highly picturesque effect, but before he reached the point, it would seem as if some internal spring had given way; he paused, and gazed round him with the blank anxiety of look that a blind man has when he has dropped his staff. Unthink ing friends sometimes pained him sadly by giving him the catch-word abruptly. I noticed the delicacy of Miss Ferrier on such occasions. Her sight was bad, and she took care not to use her glasses when he was speaking; and she affected to be also troubled with deafness, and would say, "Well, I am getting as dull as a post; I have not heard a word since you said so and so," being sure to mention a circumstance behind that at which he had really halted. He then took up the thread with his habitual smile of courtesy, as if forgetting his case entirely in the consideration of the lady's infirmity.' thor, female at least, whom he had ever seen among the long list he had encountered with; simple, full of humour, and exceedingly ready at repartée; and all this without the least affectation of the blue stocking.' This is high praise; but the readers of Miss Ferrier's novels will at once recognise it as characteristic, and exactly what they would have anticipated. This lady is a Scottish Miss Edgeworth of a lively, practical, penetrating cast of mind; skilful in depicting character and seizing upon national peculiarities; caustic in her wit and humour, with a quick sense of the ludicrous; and desirous of inculcating sound morality and attention to the courtesies and charities of life. In some passages, indeed, she evinces a deep religious feeling, approaching to the evangelical views of Hannah More; but the general strain of her writing relates to the foibles and oddities of mankind, and no one has drawn them with greater breadth of comic humour or effect. Her scenes often resemble the style of our best old comedies, and she may boast, like Foote, of adding many new and original characters to the stock of our comic literature. Her first work is a complete gallery of this kind. The plot is very inartificial; but after the first twenty pages, when Douglas conducts his pampered and selfish Lady Juliana to Glenfern castle, the interest never flags. The three maiden aunts at Glenfern-Miss Jacky, who was all over sense, the universal manager and detected, Miss Grizzy, the letter-writer, and Miss Nicky, who was not wanting for sense either, are an inimitable family group. Mrs Violet Macshake, the last remaining branch of the noble race of Girnachgowl, is a representative of the old hardfeatured, close-handed, proud, yet kind-hearted Scottish matron, vigorous and sarcastic at the age of ninety, and despising all modern manners and innovations. Then there is the sentimental Mrs Gaffaw, who had weak nerves and headaches; was above managing her house, read novels, dyed ribbons, and altered her gowns according to every pattern she could see or hear of. There is a shade of caricature in some of these female portraits, notwithstanding the explanation of the authoress that they lived at a time when Scotland was very different from what it is now-when female education was little attended to even in families of the highest rank; and consequently the ladies of those days possessed a raciness in their manners and ideas that we should vainly seek for in this age of cultivation and refinement. It is not only, however, in satirising the foibles of her own sex that Miss Ferrier displays such original talent and humour. Dr Redgill, a medical hanger-on and diner-out, is a gourmand of the first class, who looks upon bad dinners to be the source of much of the misery we hear of in the married life, and who compares a woman's reputation to a beefsteak- if once breathed upon, 'tis good for nothing.' Many sly satirical touches occur throughout the work. In one of Miss Grizzy's letters we hear | of a Major MacTavish of the militia, who, independent of his rank, which Grizzy thought was very high, distinguished himself, and showed the greatest bravery once when there was a very serious riot about the raising the potatoes a penny a peck, when there was no occasion for it, in the town of Dunoon. We are told also that country visits should seldom | exceed three days-the rest day, the dressed day, and the pressed day. There is a great shrewdness and knowledge of human nature in the manner in which the three aunts got over their sorrow for the death of their father, the old laird. They sighed and mourned for a time, but soon found occupation congenial to their nature in the little department of | life: dressing crape; reviving black silk; converting narrow hems into broad hems; and, in short, who so busy, so important, as the ladies of Glenfern?' The most striking picture in the book is that of the Mrs Violet MacShake, who is introduced as living in a lofty lodging in the Old Town of Edinburgh, where she is visited by her grand-nephew Mr Douglas, and his niece Mary. In person she is tall and hard-favoured, and dressed in an antiquated style : As soon as she recognised Mr Douglas, she welcomed him with much cordiality, shook him long and heartily by the hand, patted him on the back, looked into his face with much seeming satisfaction; and, in short, gave all the demonstrations of gladness usual with gentlewomen of a certain age. Her pleasure, however, appeared to be rather an impromptu than a habitual feeling; for, as the surprise wore off, her visage resumed its harsh and sarcastic expression, and she seemed eager to efface any agreeable impression her reception might have ex cited. 'Health!' repeated she with a sardonic smile, 'it wad mak an ool laugh to hear the wark that's made aboot young fowk's health noo-a-days. I wonder what ye're a' made o',' grasping Mary's arm in her great bony hand-'a wheen puir feckless windlestraes-ye maun awa to Ingland for your healths. Set ye up! I wonder what cam o' the lasses i' my time that butel to bide at hame? And whilk o'ye, I sude like to ken, 'll e'er leive to see ninety-sax, like me. Health! he, he!' Mary, glad of a pretence to indulge the mirth the old lady's manner and appearance had excited, joined most heartily in the laugh. Tak aff yere bannet, bairn, an' let me see your face; wha can tell what like ye are wi' that snule o' a thing on your head? Then after taking an accurate survey of her face, she pushed aside her pelisse Weel, its ae mercy I see ye hae neither the red heed nor the muckle cuits o' the Douglases. I kenna whuther your faither has them or no. I ne'er set een on him: neither him nor his braw leddy thought it worth their while to speer after me; but I was at nae loss, by a' accounts.' You have not asked after any of your Glenfern friends,' said Mr Douglas, hoping to touch a more sympathetic chord. 'Time eneugh-wull ye let me draw my breath, man-fowk canna say awthing at ance. An' ye bute to hae an Inglish wife tu, a Scotch lass wadna ser' ye. An' yere wean, I'se warran' its ane o' the warld's wonders-it's been unca lang o' comin'-he, he!' He has begun life under very melancholy auspices, poor fellow!" said Mr Douglas, in allusion to his father's death. 'An' wha's faut was that? I ne'er heard tell o' the like o't, to hae the bairn kirsened an' its grandfaither deein'! But fowk are naither born, nor kirsened, nor do they wad or dee as they used to du-awthing's changed.' You must, indeed, have witnessed many changes?" observed Mr Douglas, rather at a loss how to utter anything of a conciliatory nature. Changes! weel a wat I sometimes wunder if it's the same warld, an' if it's my ain heed that's upon my shoothers.' But with these changes you must also have seen many improvements?" said Mary in a tone of diffi dence. 1 Behoved. 'Impruvements!" turning sharply round upon her; 'what ken ye about impruvements, bairn? A bonny impruvement, or ens no, to see tyleyors and sclaters leavin' whar I mind jewks and yerls. An' that great glowerin' New Toon there,' pointing out of her windows, 'whar I used to sit an' luck oot at bonny green parks, an' see the coos milket, and the bits o' bairnies rowin' an' tumlin', an' the lasses trampin' i' their tubs-what see I noo but stane an' lime, an' stoor an' dirt, an' idle cheels an' dinkit oot madams prancin'. Impruvements indeed !' Mr Mary found she was not likely to advance her uncle's fortune by the judiciousness of her remarks, therefore prudently resolved to hazard no more. Douglas, who was more au fait to the prejudices of old age, and who was always amused with her bitter remarks, when they did not touch himself, encouraged her to continue the conversation by some observation on the prevailing manners. 'Mainers!' repeated she with a contemptuous laugh; 'what ca' ye mainers noo, for I dinna ken? ilk ane gangs bang intill their neebor's hoos, an' bang oot o't, as it war a chynge-hoos; an' as for the maister o't, he's no o' sae muckle vaalu as the flunky ahint his chyre. I' my grandfaither's time, as I hae heard him tell, ilka maister o' a family had his ain sate in his ain hoos; ay! an' sat wi' his hat on his heed afore the best o' the land, an' had his ain dish, an' was ay helpit first, an keepit up his owthority as a man sude du. Paurents war paurents than-bairns dardna set up their gabs afore them than as they du noo. They ne'er presumed to say their heeds war their ain i' thae days-wife an' servants, reteeners an' childer, a' trummelt i' the presence o' their heed.' Here a long pinch of snuff caused a pause in the old lady's harangue. Mr Douglas availed himself of the opportunity to rise and take leave. 'Oo, what's takin' ye awa, Archie, in sic a hurry? Sit doon there, laying her hand upon his arm, 'an' rest ye, an' tak a glass o' wine an' a bit breed; or maybe,' turning to Mary, 'ye wad rather hae a drap broth to warm ye? What gars ye look sae blae, bairn? I'm sure it's no cauld; but ye're just like the lave : ye gang a' skiltin' about the streets half naked, an' than ye maun sit an' birsle yoursels afore the fire at hame.' She had now shuffled along to the further end of the room, and opening a press, took out wine and a plateful of various-shaped articles of bread, which she handed to Mary. 'Hae, bairn-tak a cookie-tak it up-what are you feared for! it'll no bite ye. Here's t'ye, Glenfern, an' your wife an' your wean; puir tead, it's no had a very chancy ootset, weel a wat.' The wine being drank, and the cookies discussed, Mr Douglas made another attempt to withdraw, but in vain. 'Canna ye sit still a wee, man, an' let me speer after my auld freens at Glenfern? Hoo's Grizzy, an' Jacky, an' Nicky?aye workin' awa at the peels an' the drogs-he, he! I ne'er swallowed a peel nor gied a doit for drogs a' my days, an' see an ony o' them 'll rin a race wi' me whan they're naur five score.' Mr Douglas here paid some compliments upon her appearance, which were pretty graciously received; and added that he was the bearer of a letter from his aunt Grizzy, which he would send along with a roebuck and brace of moor-game. 'Gin your roebuck's nae better than your last, atweel it's no worth the sendin': poor dry fissinless dirt, no worth the chowin'; weel a wat I begrudged my teeth on't. Your muirfowl war nae that ill, but they're no worth the carryin'; they're doug cheap i' the market enoo, so it's nae great compliment. Gin ye had brought me a leg o' gude mutton, or a cauler sawmont, there would hae been some sense in't; but ye're ane o' the fowk that'll ne'er harry yoursell wi' your presents; it's but the pickle powther they cost ye, an' I'se warran' ye're thinkin' mair o' your ain diversion than o' my stamick whan ye're at the shootin' o' them, puir beasts.' Mr Douglas had borne the various indignities levelled against himself and his family with a philosophy that had no parallel in his life before, but to this attack upon his game he was not proof. His colour rose, his eyes flashed fire, and something resembling an oath burst from his lips as he strode indignantly towards the door. His friend, however, was too nimble for him. She stepped before him, and, breaking into a discordant laugh as she patted him on the back, 'So I see ye're just the auld man, Archie-aye ready to tak the strums an ye dinna get a' thing your ain wye. Mony a time I had to fleech ye oot o' the dorts when ye was a callant. Do ye mind hoo ye was affronted because I set ye doon to a cauld pigeon-pye an' a tanker o' tippenny ae night to your fowerhoors afore some leddies-he, he, he! Weel a wat yere wife maun hae her ain adoos to manage ye, for ye're a cumstairy chield, Archie.' Mr Douglas still looked as if he was irresolute whether to laugh or be angry. 'Come, come, sit ye doon there till I speak to this bairn,' said she, as she pulled Mary into an adjoining bed-chamber, which wore the same aspect of chilly neatness as the one they had quitted. Then pulling a huge bunch of keys from her pocket, she opened a drawer, out of which she took a pair of diamond earrings. Hae, bairn,' said she, as she stuffed them into Mary's hand; 'they belanged to your faither's grandmother. She was a gude woman, an' had fouran'-twenty sons an' dochters, an' I wuss ye nae waur fortin than just to hae as mony. But mind ye,' with a shake of her bony finger, 'they maun a' be Scots. Gin I thought ye wad mairry ony pock-puddin', fient haed wad ye hae gotten frae me. Noo had your tongue, and dinna deive me wi' thanks,' almost pushing her into the parlour again; 'and sin ye're gawn awa' the morn, I'll see nae mair o' ye enoo-so fare ye weel. But, Archie, ye maun come an' tak your breakfast wi' me. I hae muckle to say to you; but ye mauna be sae hard upon my baps as ye used to be,' with a facetious grin to her mollified favourite as they shook hands and parted. Aware, perhaps, of the defective outline or story of her first novel, Miss Ferrier has bestowed much more pains on the construction of the 'Inheritance.' It is too complicated for an analysis in this place; but we may mention that it is connected with high life and a wide range of characters, the heroine being a young lady born in France, and heiress to a splendid estate and peerage in Scotland, to which, after various adventures and reverses, she finally succeeds. The tale is well arranged and developed. Its chief attraction, however, consists in the delineation of characters. Uncle Adam and Miss Pratt -the former a touchy, sensitive, rich East Indian, and the latter another of Miss Ferrier's inimitable old maids are among the best of the portraits; but the canvass is full of happy and striking sketches. 'Destiny' is connected with Highland scenery and Highland manners, but is far from romantic. Miss Ferrier is as human and as discerning in her tastes and researches as Miss Edgeworth. The chief, Glenroy, is proud and irascible, spoiled by the fawning of his inferiors, and in his family circle is generous without kindness, and profuse without benevolence. The Highland minister, Mr Duncan MacDow, James Inorier East in a series of novels-The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan, three volumes, 1824 (with a second part published in two volumes in 1828); Zohrab, the Hostage, three volumes, 1832; Ayesha, the Maid of Kars, three volumes, 1834; and The Mirza, three volumes, 1841. The object of his first work was, he says, the single idea of illustrating Eastern manners by contrast with those of England, and the author evinces a minute and familiar acquaintance with the habits and customs of the Persians. The truth of his satirical descriptions and allusions was felt even by the court of Persia; for Mr Morier has published a letter from a minister of state in that country, expressing the displeasure which the king felt at the very foolish business' of the book. It is probable, however, as the author supposes, that this irritation may lead to reflection, and reflection to amendment, as he conceives the Persians to be, in talent and natural capacity, equal to any nation in the world, and would be no less on a level with them in feeling, honesty, and the higher moral qualities, were their education favourable. The hero of Mr Morier's tale is an adventurer like Gil Blas, and as much buffeted about in the world. He is the son of a barber of Ispahan, and is successively one of a band of Turcomans, a menial servant, a pupil of the physician-royal of Persia, an attendant on the chief executioner, a religious devotee, and a seller of tobacco-pipes in Constantinople. Having by stratagem espoused a rich Turkish widow, he becomes an official to the Shah; and on his further distinguishing himself for his knowledge of the Europeans, he is appointed secretary to the mission of Mirzah Firouz, and accompanies the Persian ambassador to the court of England. In the course of his multiplied adventures, misfortunes, and escapes, the volatile unprincipled Hajji mixes with all classes, and is much in Tehran, Koordistan, Georgia, Bagdad, Constantinople, &c. The work soon became popular. The novelty of the style,' says Sir Walter Scott, 'which was at once perceived to be genuine oriental by such internal evidence as establishes the value of real old Chinathe gay and glowing descriptions of Eastern state and pageantry-the character of the poetry occasionally introduced-secured a merited welcome for the Persian picaroon. As a picture of oriental manners, the work had, indeed, a severe trial to sustain by a comparison with the then recent romance of Anastasius. But the public found appetite for both; and indeed they differ as comedy and tragedy, the deep passion and gloomy interest of Mr Hope's work being of a kind entirely different from the light and lively turn of our friend Hajji's adventures. The latter, with his morals sitting easy about him, a rogue indeed, but not a malicious one, with as much wit and cunning as enable him to dupe others, and as much vanity as to afford them perpetual means of retaliation; a sparrow-hawk, who, while he floats through the air in quest of the smaller game, is himself perpetually exposed to be pounced upon by some stronger bird of prey, interests and amuses us, while neither deserving nor expecting serious regard or esteem; and like Will Vizard of the hill, "the knave is our very good friend." Mr Morier, however, in the episode of Yusuf, the Armenian, and the account of the death of Zeenab, has successfully entered into the arena of pathetic and romantic description. The oriental scenes are the most valuable and original portions of "Hajji Baba," and possess the attraction of novelty to ordinary readers, yet the account of the constant embarrassment and surprise of the Persians at English manners and customs is highly amusing. The ceremonial of the dinner-table, that seemed to them "absolutely bristling with instruments of offence," blades of all sizes and descriptions, sufficient to have ornamented the girdles of the Shah's household, could not but puzzle those who had been accustomed simply to take everything up in their fingers. The mail-coach, the variety of our furniture and accommodation, and other domestic observances, were equally astonishing; but, above all, the want of ceremonial among our statesmen and public officers surprised the embassy. The following burst of oriental wonder and extravagance succeeds to an account of a visit paid them by the chairman and deputy-chairman of the East India Company, who came in a hackney-coach, and, after the interview, walked away upon their own legs. "When they were well off, we all sat mute, only occasionally saying, 'Allah! Allah! there is but one Allah!' so wonderfully astonished were we. What! India? that great, that magnificent empire! -that scene of Persian conquest and Persian glory! -the land of elephants and precious stones, the seat of shawls and kincobs!-that paradise sung by poets, celebrated by historians more ancient than Iran itself!-at whose boundaries the sun is per mitted to rise, and around whose majestic mountains, some clad in eternal snows, others in eternal verdure, the stars and the moon are allowed to gambol and carouse! What! is it so fallen, so degraded, as to be swayed by two obscure mortals, living in regions that know not the warmth of the sun? Two swine-eating infidels, shaven, impure, walkers on foot, and who, by way of state, travel in dirty coaches filled with straw! This seemed to us a greater miracle in government than even that of Beg Ian, the plaiter of whips, who governed the Turcomans and the countries of Samarcand and Bokhara, leading a life more like a beggar than a potentate."" 'Zohrab' is a historical novel, of the time of Aga Mohammed Shah, a famous Persian prince, described by Sir John Malcolm as having taught the Russians to beat the French by making a desert before the line of the invader's march, and thus leaving the enemy master of only so much ground as his cannon could command. This celebrated Shah is the real hero of the tale, though the honour is nominally awarded to Zohrab, an independent Mazanderini chief, who falls in love with the gentle and beautiful Amima, niece of the Shah. The style of the work is light, pleasant, and animated, and it is full of Persian life. 'Ayesha, the Maid of Kars,' is inferior to its predecessors, though certain parts (as the description of the freebooter, Corah Bey, and the ruins of Anni, the Spectre City, the attack on the Russian posts, the voyage to Constantinople, &c.) are in the author's happiest and most graphic manner. In this work Mr Morier introduces a novelty-he makes an English traveller, Lord Os. mond, fall in love with a Turkish maiden, and while the Englishman is bearing off the Maid of Kars to Constantinople, Corah Bey intercepts them, and gets the lover sent off to the galleys. He is released through the intercession of the English ambassador, and carries his Eastern bride to England. Ayesha, the heroine, turns out to be the daughter of Sir Edward Wortley! There are improbabilities in this story which cannot be reconciled, and the mixture of European costume and characters among the scenery and society of the East, destroys that oriental charm which is so entire and so fascinating in Zohrab.' 'The Mirza' is a series of Eastern stories, connected by an outline of fiction like Moore's Lalla Rookh. In concluding this work, Mr Morier says, 'I may venture to assert that the East, as we have known it in oriental tales, is now fast on the change-"C'est le commencement de la fin." Perhaps we have gleaned the last of the beards, and obtained an expiring glimpse of the heavy caoûk and the ample shalwar ere they are exchanged for the hat and the spruce pantaloon. How wonderful is it how full of serious contemplation is the fact, that the whole fabric of Mohammedanism should have been assailed, almost suddenly as well as simultaneously, by events which nothing human could have foreseen. Barbary, Egypt, Syria, the banks of the Euphrates and Tigris, the Red Sea, Constantinople, Asia Minor, Persia, and Affghanistan, all more or less have felt the influence of European or anti-Mohammedan agencies. Perhaps the present generation may not see a new structure erected, but true it is they have seen its foundations laid.' In 1838 appeared The Banished; a Swabian Historical Tale, edited by Mr Morier. This publication caused some disappointment, as the name of the author of Hajji Baba' excited expectations which The Banished' did not realise. The work is a translation from the German, a tale of the Swabian league in the sixteenth century. |