negro. It appears that the quadroon women bear the palm of beauty; they have long and perfectly straight hair, eyes large and black, figure perfection itself, and Simple declares that you can see the colour mantling in their cheeks, quite as plainly as in the countenance of an European. The officers were well received, and Simple was introduced to Miss Eurydice. The company stood up to dance, Simple with the above named lady, and O'Brien with Miss Euterpe. Twelve pair formed the group. Mr. Apollo Johnson, master of the ceremonies and fiddleplayer, ordered the music to strike up, and forthwith he cried out to O'Brien, "Massa lieutenant cross over to opposite lady, right hand and left, den figure to Miss Eurydice-dat right;" now four hand round. You lilly midshipmen, set your partner, sir; den twist her round: dat do, now stop. First figure all over." At this time I thought I might venture to talk a little with my partner, and I ventured a remark; to my surprise she answered very sharply, I come here for dance, sar, and not for chatter; look, Massa Johnson, he tap um bow-tick.' The second figure commenced, and I made a sad bungle: and so I did of the third, and fourth, and fifth, for I never had danced a cotillon. I handed my partner to her place, who certainly was the prettiest girl in the room, she looked rather contemptuously at me, and observed to a neighbour, I really pity de gentlemen as come from England dat no know how to dance nor nothing at all, until em' hab instruction at Barbadoes.' * * When "Supper was now announced, and having danced the last country dance with Miss Minerva, I of course had the pleasure of handing her into the supper-room. It was my fate to sit opposite to a fine turkey, and I asked my partner if I should have the pleasure of helping her to a piece of the breast. She looked at me very indignantly, and said, 'Curse your impudence, sar, I wonder where you larn manners. Sar, I take a lilly turkey bosom, if you please. Talk of breast to a lady, sar; really quite horrid.' I made two or three more barbarous mistakes before the supper was finished. At last the eating was over, and I must say a better supper I never sat down to. Silence, gen tlemen and ladies,' cried Mr. Apollo Johnson, wid de permission of our amiable hostess, I will propose a toast. Gentlemen and ladies-You all know, and if be so you don't, I say that there no place in de world like Barbadoes. All de world fight against England, but England nebber fear; King George nebber fear, while Barbadoes tand tiff. Badian fight for King George to the last drop of him blood. Nebber see the day Badian run away; you all know dem Frenchmans at San Lucee give up Morne Fortunée, when he hear de Badian volunteer come against him. I hope no 'fence present company, but um sorry to say English come here too jealous of Badians. Gentlemen and lady-BarbaVOL. III. (1833) no. iv. N N dian born ab only one fault-he really too brave. I purpose health of Island of Barbadoes."" Acclamations from all quarters followed this truly modest speech, and the toast was drunk with rapture; the ladies were delighted with Mr. Apollo's eloquence, and the lead which he took in the company. During the absence of Simple his eldest brother dies, and Peter is at last fortunate enough to become the heir to the title and estate. There is an uncle, however, who long expected the heirship for one of his children, but unhappily he had no sons, though blessed with a numerous progeny of daughters. The wife of this uncle proves pregnant, and he being fearful of another daughter being added to the offspring, is resolved to decide the matter himself. He sends his family to Ireland, under a false name, and should the child prove a female, it was arranged that it should be exchanged for a boy. The apprehension of the parents was realized; a girl appeared, and the attempt to substitute another child, as the true-born of the family, was, by a providential accident, completely exposed by O'Brien, the friend of Simple. But this disappointment only whetted the malice of the uncle, who had sufficient interest to procure the nomination of his nephew to a ship, in an inferior station to a natural son of his own, who, at the instigation of his father, does all in his power to make Peter's life miserable. Not content with this, the Captain, for such was the situation of Peter's persecutor, had him tried before a court-martial, but without the success which he had anticipated. After many a scene of vicissitude, adventure, and danger, Peter at last succeeds to the title, and seeking the beautiful Coeleste, to whom in humbler days he had pledged himself, he raised her to his noble dignity as his wife, and marked his gratitude to the generous and good-humoured O'Brien by giving him his beloved sister in marriage. Such is the brief outline, and such are a few of the scenes of one of the most agreeable, the most sustained pieces of amusing adventure which we have been for a long time able to enjoy. We recommend the work most cordially to all classes of persons who have the winter's night, even beside their pleasant fire-sides, to encounter, and we pledge ourselves for the wholesome results which the recommendation is sure to bring about. The next of the novels to which we have to direct the reader's attention is that called Trevelyan, which is a tale of practical life, full of warnings and moral instruction. Colonel Trevelyan was with his regiment in India, when one of his most intimate friends, Colonel Howard, fell a victim to fatigue and the severity of the climate. The latter, who was gratified with the attendance of so consoling a brother officer at his death-bed, imparted to him the secret of his having an illegitimate daughter, whom he tenderly cherished, and who was then in a boarding-school in London, and he beseeches his friend Trevelyan that he would act to her as a father in the capacity of a guardian. Trevelyan satisfied his friend that the girl should lose nothing in paternal attention by the loss of her father, and in proper time he directed a letter to an elder sister of his, then residing at Richmond, near London, stating the whole of the circumstances to which he had been made privy, and begs that she will pay such attention to the young lady as her circumstances will admit of. The sister, upon receiving the communication, lost no time in visiting the young lady, and upon the first interview was so fascinated by her simplicity, artlessness, and innocence, that she insisted upon removing her from the school and taking her as a companion. At Richmond the young lady remained for a considerable time, and at last Trevelyan's regiment was ordered home. In due time he made his appearance at Richmond, and expecting to meet in the person of Miss Howard a child of immature mind and person, not a little was he astonished to find in her a young woman possessing the most fascinating allurements. The result is obvious; he fell desperately in love with the lady, and, having satisfied her of his attachment, she yielded to his overtures, making that submission which the officer interpreted into a return of his affection. But he was wofully mistaken, for, in the midst of his confidence in the sincerity of the young lady, he found that, through the opportunities afforded by boating parties on the Thames, Lord Herbert Leslie succeeded in gaining the acquaintance of the young beauty, and completed his good fortune by winning her heart. Colonel Trevelyan bore the disappointment like a hero, and whilst he must have been labouring under the severest anguish, he still behaved with a generosity and disinterestedness which should have excited the utmost admiration. Partly in compliance with the impulses of a mind early addicted to military pursuits, partly to dissipate the influence of disagreeable meditations, he joined the expedition to Egypt. He was in the thick of the battle of Alexandria, and received there a wound, the severity of which obliged him to return home. It should have been stated that Trevelyan was a member of a noble family, being the nephew of the Earl of Launceston, and on his re-appearance in England invites him to his mansion. Trevelyan gladly accepts the proffered hospitality of his relation, fixes his residence at the mansion, and is ultimately offered his own cousin, the daughter of the earl, in marriage. Trevelyan, from a sense of duty much more than from the impulse of inclination, consents to the `marriage, which at lasts takes place. Shortly after he had taken Lady Augusta as his wife, his affection being still disengaged, he met, by an unhappy mischance, the very Lady Leslie-the former object of his affection, and who possessed, at least for him, too influential a power of attraction. This lady who had abandoned Trevelyan originally for her husband, who was now her companion, had good reason to repent of her former determination. She perceived the object of Trevelyan's attentions and sanctioned them; she received his visits, and to avoid unpleasant appearances, it seems that he endeavoured to prevail on Lady Augusta to visit Lady Leslie too. But the latter declined, deeming the intercourse of her husband with this lady unbecoming. At length Lady Leslie is openly abandoned by her husband, who leaves her at an hotel, and flies himself to Scotland. The deserted wife, in a paroxysm of angry resentment, elopes with Lascelles, a visitor who had been known to admire her. Having proceeded a few miles with her protector, she suddenly stopped short under an impulse of compunction, and insists on remaining by herself at the next post-house at which they should arrive. Her wishes were obeyed, and from the place of her sojourn she sends a message to Trevelyan. The latter arrived and gave her consolation, now that sorrow had fallen upon her, and brought her to the brink of the grave. She made an acknowledgment of her imprudence; but added, that even that did not lead her into crime. Trevelyan acted again in the noble character of a disinterested friend; he prevailed on the husband of the repentant daughter of his ancient friend to return and be reconciled, and was happy in seeing his exertions crowned with success. The lady died in a short time afterwards. Another affliction, however, awaited him; his wife, Lady Augusta, not satisfied with his conduct towards Lady Leslie, refused to return to her allegiance, and to drown his sorrows, under these distressing circumstances, in excitement he joined the expedition to Spain under Sir John Moore. In one of the most brilliant of the actions gained by the British troops, he died on the field of battle covered with martial glory. The story is exceedingly well told, and there are some striking scenes to be met with in the volumes. But the work is not one which is calculated to make a lasting impression on the reader, being destitute of such incidents and energetic characters as those which usually produce such an effect. The last of the productions on our list, which we now reach, is by far too dilated for the purposes of a work destined to amuse. Besides, there does not appear so very pressing a motive for the multiplicity of the pages, as a great portion of them might with much propriety have been retrenched. The plot of the piece is deeply connected with the ancient history of Ireland; and it turns on a prophecy of one of the bards of that country respecting the descendants of Mac Carthy More. The seer at an early period saw in the vista of futurity, with his long reaching eyes, that a time would come when one of the female branches, a grand niece of the Earl of Dunane, (for the Mac Carthys came to be turned into lords), would bring "ill luck upon the whole generation by her marriage with a foreigner." In pursuance of the prophecy, we find that, at a given era, the Earl of Dunane, tired of being for so many years unblessed with offspring, resolved to adopt a nephew in the person of the son of his sister, Lady Mary Elmour. This boy remained for some time with the uncle, and proved himself of a violent temper. Whilst the child still remains in the mansion of his uncle, the hopes and wishes of the latter are unexpectedly gratified by the birth of a son. The circumstance did not change the feelings of the earl towards the adopted youth, and both the boys were brought up together. The earl in the course of time hears that his sister Katherine eloped with an Italian count in Italy, and that within a few months afterwards he deserted her; that she was left forlorn, and subsequently was received by Lady Mornington, then residing at Geneva. Not being at liberty to return to her native country in consequence of the threats of her uncle, she protracted her visit at Geneva, where in the fulness of time she gave birth to twin daughters, but fell a sacrifice herself on the occasion. Lady Mornington protected the orphans, and brought them up with her child Miriam. Time passed; and when the girls attained the age of seventeen, it chanced that Lord Conway, the Earl of Dunane's eldest son, paid a casual visit to Geneva, He was accompanied in his tour by his cousin, Charles St. Elmour, the adopted son of his aunt, already mentioned. Lord Conway, struck with the beauty of the eldest of the girls, claims her in marriage, and obtains for that purpose the earl's consent. The maiden is brought over to Dunane Castle, the marriage is fixed, but must be postponed in consequence of the sudden indisposition of the Countess of Dunane. During this interval of delay, Lord Conway has his attention directed to the very significant attentions paid by his cousin, the adopted son of his aunt, to the mistress to whom he had betrothed, and one day finding them in close conversation, he gave vent to his jealousy. The cousins drew, and Charles inflicted a fatal wound on Lord Conway. Charles is accused of the murder, is arrested, but escapes by the assistance of his devoted nurse. The lady fled to Geneva, and was kindly received by her former friend, the generous Lady Mornington. In the person of this young woman we have the foreigner, who was shadowed forth by the mysterious language of the ancient prophet; and well did she realize his description. To the form of a lovely woman she joined the heart of a demon, and was actually privately married to Charles, the cousin, at the very hour that he fought and killed Lord Conway. At Geneva, her history being unknown, she was seen by Lord Blessingham, who married her. They had one son, but a separation between these parties became unavoidable, in consequence of the unrestrained conduct of the wife. The boy came of age, but, during his minority, the mother left nothing undone to heap injury on the family of Dunane. Her son happened to become united in marriage to a grand niece of the Earl of Dunane-the young couple take up their residence in Florence: and there all the arts of his mother 7 |