as a man shrewd and observant of his own interest, distinguished by the intensity of his attachments, and, though in the earlier part of his career, not unwilling to mingle prudential considerations with spiritual impulses, yet becoming, in its termination, a confirmed fanatic and fifth-monarchy man. Whether designedly or not, it so happens, that the sternest and least amiable manifestations of his character are those which are brought out by his religious convictions, while its most attractive exhibitions are occasioned by the strong workings of domestic feeling and personal affection. We shall not comment upon this, nor shall we point out certain other offensive particulars of the same cast, since we have followed out this subject, on a former occasion, with sufficient minuteness to preclude the necessity of extended animadversion at the present time. We have no wish to vindicate all the peculiarities which distinguished the habits and phrases of some of the Puritans; but we do affirm, and that without the slightest fear of effectual contradiction, that they were the master spirits of a corrupt and slavish age-that they were lights of the world amid a wayward and sensual generation-and that they only required to be put in fair contrast with those of the contrary side, to stand out conspicuous in moral elevation.

Quentin Durward carries us back to other times, and transports us to a different country. The Author has been reading Philip de Comines, and has, in consequence, given us, to the life, Louis XI. and his fiery opponent, Charles of Burgundy, with their respective courts and favourites. He has dissected the character of the former with consummate dexterity: its mingled timidity and self-possession, craft and superstition, policy and overweening confidence, are displayed with a skill and keeping, that make it entirely effective. The story is, in substance, nothing more than the success of a Scottish adventurer, pennyless, but noble by fifteen descents,' in the latter half of the fifteenth century, but the accessaries are so admirably adapted, the dialogue is so perfectly dramatic, the descriptions are so vivid, and the narrative so rapidly carried on, that the reader is too much occupied and interested to perceive the meagreness of the plot. As usual, there is an induction, in which the ruined chateau and shattered antique library of a returned Emigrant make a conspicuous figure; and the Author affects a disclaimer of identity with Sir Walter Scott, his distinguished literary countryman.'

It was upon a delicious summer morning, before the sun had assumed its scorching power, and while the dews yet cooled and perfumed the air, that a youth coming from the north-eastward, approached the ford of a small river, or rather a large brook, tribu

tary to the Cher, near to the royal castle of Plessis, whose dark and multiplied battlements rose in the back-ground over the extensive forest with which they were surrounded....... On the bank of the abovementioned brook, opposite to that which the traveller was approaching, two men, who appeared in deep conversation, seemed, from time to time, to watch his motions.

The youth, Quentin Durward of course, is described as tall, handsome, and active; the principal of the two persons who were observing his advance, makes a very different figure.

The eldest and most remarkable of these men in dress and appearance, resembled the merchant or shopkeeper of the period. His jerkin, hose, and cloak, were of a dark, uniform colour, but worn so threadbare, that the acute young Scot conceived, that the wearer must be either very rich or very poor, probably the former. The fashion of the dress was close and short,-a kind of garments which were not then held decorous among gentry, or even the superior class of citizens, who generally wore loose gowns which descended below the middle of the leg.

The expression of this man's countenance was partly attractive, partly forbidding. His strong features, sunk cheeks, and hollow eyes, had, nevertheless, an expression of shrewdness and humour congenial to the character of the young adventurer. But then, those same sunken eyes, from under the shrowd of thick black eyebrows, had something that was at once commanding and sinister. Perhaps this effect was increased by the low fur cap, much depressed on the forehead, and adding to the shade from under which those eyes peered out; but it is certain that the young stranger had some difficulty to reconcile his looks with the meanness of his appearance in other respects. His cap, in particular, in which all men of any quality displayed either a brooch of gold or of silver, was ornamented with a paltry image of the Virgin, in lead, such as the poorer sort of pilgrims bring from Loretto.'

It is scarcely necessary to apprise our readers, that this is an accurate portrait of Louis XI., or that his younger, shorter, and stouter companion, with his down-looking visage' and ⚫ ominous smile,' was his trusty Provost-Marshal, Tristan l'Hermite, the punctual executioner of his sanguinary commands.

The river was in flood, and the youth shouted an inquiry respecting its fordability, but, receiving no answer, entered the stream without any other precaution than laying aside buskins. In an instant he was carried off his legs, but being a bold and practised swimmer, he reached the other side in safety. Exasperated at the negligence which had thus allowed him to endanger his life, he begins to quarrel with the worthy Tristan ; but the elder companion interferes, and after a dialogue of some length, in which Quentin gives a summary but satisfac

tory account of himself, Maitre Pierre (the King's assumed name) takes the Scot under his guidance, and they set off for the village of Plessis. In their route across the park, they pass near the castle, a large, dark, strong fortification with a triple wall and fosse.

• His companion told him that the environs of the castle, except the single winding path by which the portal might be safely approached, were, like the thickets through which they had passed, surrounded with every species of hidden pitfall, snare, and gin, to entrap the wretch who should venture thither without a guide; that upon the walls were constructed certain cradles of iron, called swallows' nests, from which the sentinels, who were regularly posted there, could take deliberate aim at any who should attempt to enter without the proper signal or pass-word of the day.'

A little further on, they pass an oak-tree on which hangs the body of a man, a victim of the King's justice or cruelty; an exhibition not unfrequently displayed on trees and gibbets in the vicinity of his abode. At length they reach an hostelry where the monarch was well-known to the landlord. Preserving his incognito, he orders an abundant breakfast for Quentin, whose appetite, at all times somewhat of the keenest, was now sharpened by long abstinence, and made desperate havoc in a noble paté de Perigord, and other viands of equal gout; nor does he decline an occasional draught of delicious vin de Beaulne. Maitre Pierre's fare was of a less solid kind, and was brought in by a lovely, dark-haired girl, who awakens in Durward feelings of a very tender kind. At length, the King quits his companion, having previously presented him with a silver cup, half full of money of the same metal. In the course of their conversation it had appeared, that the immediate object of Quentin's visit to this neighbourhood was to seek an interview with his maternal uncle, Ludovic Lesly, surnamed, from an enormous scar on his right cheek, le Balafré. This relative was in the Archer-guard, composed entirely of Scottish gentlemen of noble blood, to which the immediate defence of the royal person was entrusted, and which was distinguished by peculiar privileges, rich armour and clothing, and high pay. Ludovic is represented as a tall, powerful man, remarkable for steady courage, but, in all respects, a mere soldier; and when he learns, in the interview with his nephew, that he is the sole survivor of the family of Durward, having barely escaped with life from the fray which exterminated his race, he contents himself with giving orders for masses to be said in behalf of the souls of his kindred. Lesly is soon called away to duty, and his young relative amuses himself with a solitary walk along the banks of the Cher. His stroll

proves an eventful one, for, after some unpleasant misunderstandings with different persons whom he meets, he at last comes upon a groupe of peasants standing near some chesnut trees, on one of which hangs a man, whose limbs are still quivering with the convulsions of death. Without heeding the significant gesture of a by-stander who points to the rude impression of a fleur de lis on the bark, he springs into the tree, and cuts down the corpse, whose heavy fall on the ground announces that life was completely gone. While busied in endeavouring to restore animation, Quentin is surrounded by a band of gipsies, whose wild and savage appearance is most picturesquely described; and their lamentations and active efforts to bring back the extinguished spark of existence, shew the victim to have been one of their tribe. They are soon interrupted in their business by the appearance of the Provost and his guard, who succeed in seizing on a few prisoners, and among them, the luckless Scotsman, whose protestations of innocence are quite in vain; the halter is round his neck, and the hangmen, Trois Echelles and Petit André are urging him forward to the tree, when one of the Archer-guard, finding him to be a Scotsman, interferes; and shortly after, Ludovic Lesly and a party of his friends, ride up and rescue him from the disappointed cruelty of Tristan and his associates. Quentin is enrolled in the royal guard as his uncle's esquire, and, on his first appearance on duty at court, is recognised by Louis, who requires to know the year, day, hour, and minute of his birth.' From these important data, the King's astrologer calculates the youth's horoscope, and ascertains a mysterious connexion between his fortunes and those of the monarch, which induces the latter to employ him immediately on confidential service.

While at the little inn in the village of Plessis, the dark'browed damsel' had awakened a considerable interest in Durward's mind, and a subsequent glimpse of a white, round 'arm'at a turret window, and the sound of a delicious voice singing to the lute an ancient roundelay, had deepened the impression, and stimulated his curiosity. He now finds that the fair tenant of the auberge, is no less a personage than Isabelle, Countess of Croye, who, under the guidance of her relative the Countess Hameline, had fled from the court of Burgundy to avoid having an ill-suited husband forced upon her by the Duke. A haughty defiance from the latter is delivered to Louis by the Count de Crevecoeur, the ambassador of Charles; and the former, anxious to conceal his harbourage of the fair fugitives, sends them away, under an escort commanded by Quentin, who has thus the exquisite delight of attending on his lady-love,' through a perilous jour

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ney. Perilous, indeed, it proves to be; for the King, as usual, was playing a double game. Ostensibly he was consigning the countesses to the honourable guardianship of the PrinceBishop of Liege, while he had made private arrangements for intercepting them on their route, and giving them up to the tender mercies of William de la Marck, the Boar of Ardennes; a monster of cruelty and ugliness, whose services were to be secured by the hand and estates of the lovely Isabelle. This design was to have been effected by the intervention of a gipsy guide, but it is effectually defeated by the shrewdness, activity, and courage of the young Scot. He first unhorses the Duke of Orleans, and engages, with doubtful success, the celebrated Dunois, who had reluctantly engaged himself to assist the former in his rash attempt to carry off Isabelle, with whose charms the Prince had been irresistibly stricken, though under positive engagements to the younger daughter of Louis. Quentin afterwards detects the treacherous machinations of Hayraddin Maugrabin, the gipsy, and by an alteration in the route, conveys his charge in safety to the court of Liege. The guide and his monture are thus described.

The low size, and wild, shaggy, untrained state of the animal, reminded Quentin of the mountain breed of horses in his own country, but this was much more finely limbed, and, with the same appearance of hardness, was more rapid in its movements. The head, particularly, which, in the Scottish poney, is often lumpish and heavy, was small and well-placed in the neck of this animal, with thin jaws, full sparkling eyes, and expanded nostrils.

The rider was even more singular in his appearance than the horse which he rode, though that was extremely unlike the horses of France. Although he managed his palfrey with great dexterity, he sat with his feet in broad stirrups, something resembling a shovel, so short, that his knees were well-nigh as high as the pommel of his saddle. His dress was a red turban of small size, in which he wore a sullied plume, secured by a clasp of silver; his tunic, which was shaped like those of the Estradiots, a sort of troops whom the Venetians at that time levied in the provinces on the eastern side of their gulf, was green in colour, and tawdrily laced with gold. He wore very wide drawers or trowsers of white, though none of the cleanest, which gathered beneath the knee, and his swarthy legs were quite bare, unless for the complicated laces which bound a pair of sandals on his feet; he had no spurs, the edge of his large stirrups being so sharp as to serve to goad the horse in a very severe manner. In a crimson sash this singular horseman wore a dagger on the right side, and on the left a short, crooked Moorish sword, and by a tarnished baldrick over the shoulder hung the horn which announced his approach. He had a swarthy and sun-burnt visage, with a thin beard, and piercing dark eyes, a well-formed mouth and nose, and other features which might have been pronounced handsome, but for the black