and introduces her to some notable acquaintance in the "house of mourning."

The most important "character" in The Inheritance whom we venture to notice before the Earl of Rossville, has a certain resemblance to one of Miss Austen's creations. The inimitable Miss Pratt talks as incessantly as Miss Bates; she is obtuse, inconsequent, and full of gossip. Her Anthony Whyte is as immaculate and as clever as the other's Jane Fairfax. But she is not entirely an imitation, for whereas Miss Bates is the soul of good nature, Miss Pratt is caustic as vinegar, and delights in nothing so much as in making mischief. She achieves one temporary conquest, by her knowledge of "stocks," over uncle Adam, a man whose character is the very antipodes of hers. He is the typical cross old gentleman of fiction, who never opens his lips if he can help it, and hates to have anyone about him. His heart, however, is of course in the right place, and he finally becomes softened and humanised by the herione's resemblance to his first and only love. In externals, as we have seen, he was copied from Miss Ferrier's father, and the type reappears as Inch-Orran in Destiny. His secret and shamefaced delight in Guy Mannering is cleverly described, and conveys a graceful compliment to the author's friend and compatriot.

The pet aversion of uncle Adam is Bell Black, the pretty fool on whom Miss Ferrier expends the whole force of her cynical artillery. She is for ever prattling of " her situation," as fiancée of a wealthy nabob, Major Waddell, and fondly imagines that no one else can be an object of attention in her presence.

The senti

mental Lilly Black, though quite a minor character, belongs to much the same type, but has an individuality of her own.

A characteristic of The Inheritance is the delicate

gradation of beaux which might almost have been conceived by the authoress of Evelina. The elegant Sir Reginald is not in reality so refined as Lyndsay, for his hauteur is too overbearing; and Major Waddell despises the graces of Mr Augustus Larkins and the two Blacks. The former, indeed, by his intimacy with the town lions and vulgar knowingness, reminds one forcibly of Mr Smith in Evelina, though in person the eighteenth century gallant must have been more attractive. Mr Smith's eyes were probably dark, and his bearing melancholy, whereas Mr Larkins has "regular features, very pink eyes, very black eyebrows, and what was intended for a very smart expression." Bob and Davy Black, again, are

"dressed in all the extremes of the reigning fashions-small waists, brush-heads, stiff collars, iron heels, and switches. Like many other youths they were distinctly of opinion that 'dress makes the man.'. . . Perhaps, after all, that is a species of humility rather to be admired in those who, feeling themselves destitute of mental qualifications, trust to the abilities of their tailor and hairdresser for gaining them the goodwill of the world."

An interesting treatise on manners might be composed from Miss Ferrier's novels, for she shows considerable ingenuity in the differentiation of the fine shades. The nonchalance of Lord Lindore forms a marked contrast to the brilliance of Sir Reginald, though both are perfectly well-bred; and Mrs St Clair "was considerably annoyed by the manners of Lady Charles, which made her feel her own as something unwieldy and overgrown; like a long train, they were both out of the way and in the way, and she did not know very well how to dispose of them. Indeed, few things can be more irritating than for those who have hitherto piqued themselves upon the abundance of their manner, to find all at once that they have a great deal too much; that no one is inclined to take it off their hands, and that, in short, it is dead stock."

Mr Saintsbury conjectures that Miss Ferrier had in fact rather a penchant for the aristocracy, and she certainly draws her ladies and gentlemen of title from the life. Her heroines, though fully recognising "the vanity of rank and fashion," are wont to betray a partiality for elegant manners and refined conversation.

In Destiny the main story is more carefully worked out and the minor characters are, to some extent, kept in their place. It must be admitted that, in consequence, the book is the least interesting of the three. It contains, however, one full-length portrait, ably drawn,—that of the minister, Mr M'Dow. He is a coarser creature than Mr Collins in Pride and Prejudice, but he has the same tenacity in the pursuit of personal aggrandisement, and the same invulnerable obtuseness with regard to all other concerns. Himself the prophet of himself, he pesters the whole world with his opinions, and is guilty of what he is pleased to call a joke on every possible occasion. To confess the truth, the merciless realism with which his vulgarity is described becomes tiresome at length, and his case may be quoted, in contradistinction to that of Miss Pratt, as an argument for the contention that a bore in real life is very apt to be a bore in fiction. His "pawtron," Glenroy, who was too great in himself to make a great marriage, is another excellent character, and the Chief's mourning for his dead son is, in our opinion, the only scene of pathos which Miss Ferrier has managed with any success.

There is another indication, however, in Destiny that she might have done good serious work. The character of Mrs Macaulay, as we have hinted already, is sympathetically conceived, and is not altogether without subtlety. She is in many ways little better than a fool, but she proves herself under every circumstance to be a real "lady."

In conclusion, it will be obvious that we cannot turn

to Miss Ferrier for a transcript of actual life, a careful picture, like one of Miss Austen's, of scenes which seem almost to have occurred in our own experience. She loved rather to dwell upon, and with a pardonable sense of enjoyment to exaggerate, the freaks of nature, the eccentricities to which humanity is subject. Her methods are practically the same in Marriage, in The Inheritance, and in Destiny. The stories in themselves are in no way impressive, and can with difficulty be retained in the memory; but the minor characters stand out clear and well-defined, they "are persons with whom we are delighted to meet, sorry to part, and certain to meet again." In a word, "they are excellent company."

R. BRIMLEY JOHNSON.

LETTER S.

S Miss Ferrier seldom dated her letters, it is

As impossible to arrange them exactly in chrono

logical order.

To Miss Clavering.

I.

'Twas when the seas were roaring
With hollow blasts of wind,
A damsel sat by the fireside poring
Till she was almost blind.

Such is the situation poetical, geographical, atmospherical, intellectual, and optical of the Damsel who now addresses you, and these lines descriptive of her unhappy circumstances may prove no less instructive to posterity than they are interesting to present times. As I find my correspondence is carefully preserved by you, I flatter myself it is with the view of being one day presented to the public in twelve handsome octavo volumes, embellished with a portrait of the Authoress, and enriched with a facsimile of her handwriting. Having this hope before my eyes, I carefully abstain from the vulgar practice of dating my letter, aware how greatly uncertainty adds to interest.

With regard to this letter, my future Biographer will say (for my Life must go along with my head and hand)