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riage, from motives of caprice or interest, he declines to acknowledge. Soon after his return to England, (but whether or not in the lifetime of his first wife, we are not given to understand,) he finds it convenient to espouse a wealthy heiress, whose son shall in his own lively and characteristic language, continue the story for us.

"But the noble and wealthy pair, though blessed with such a pledge of love as myself, lived mighty ill together, and the rather, when my right honourable father, sending for this other Sosia, this unlucky Francis Tyrrel, senior, from France, insisted, in the face of propriety, that he should reside in his house, and share, in all respects, in the opportunities of education by which the real Sosia, Francis Valentine Bulmer Tyrrel, then commonly called Lord Oakendale, hath profited in such an uncommon degree.

"Various were the matrimonial quarrels which arose between the honoured lord and lady, in consequence of this unseemly conjunction of the legitimate and illegitimate; and to these, we, the subjects of the dispute, were sometimes very properly, as well as decorously, made the witnesses. On one occasion, my right honourable mother, who was a free-spoken lady, found the language of her own rank quite inadequate to express the strength of her generous feelings, and borrowing from the vulgar two emphatic words, applied them to Marie de Martigny, and her son Francis Tyrrel. Never did Earl that ever wore coronet, fly into a pitch of more uncontrollable rage, than did my right honourable father; and, in the ardour of his reply, he adopted my mother's phraseology, to inform her that if there was a whore and bastard connected with his house, it was herself and her brat.

"I was even then a sharp little fellow, and was incredibly struck with the communication, which, in an hour of uncontrollable irritation, had escaped my right honourable father. It is true, he instantly gathered himself up again; and he perhaps recollecting such a word as bigamy, and my mother, on her side, considering the consequences of such a thing as a descent from the Countess of Etherington into Mrs. Bulmer, neither wife, maid, nor widow, there was an apparent reconciliation between them, which lasted for some time. But the speech remained deeply imprinted on my remembrance; the more so, that once, when I was exerting over my friend Francis Tyrrel, the authority of a legitimate brother, and Lord Oakendale, old Cecil, my father's confidential valet, was so much scandalized as to intimate a possibility that we might one day change conditions. These two accidental communications seemed to me a key to certain long lectures, with which my father used to regale us boys, but me in particular, upon the extreme mutability of human affairs, the disappointment of the bestgrounded hopes and expectations,-and the necessity of being so accomplished in all useful branches of knowledge, as might, in case of accidents, supply any defalcation in our rank and fortune

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if any art or science could make amends for the loss of an Earldom, and twelve thousand a-year! All this prosing seemed to my anxious mind designed to prepare me for some unfortunate change; and when I was old enough to make such private inquiries as lay in my power, I became still more persuaded that my right honourable father nourished some thoughts of making an honest woman of Marie de Martigny, and a legitimate elder brother of Francis, after his death at least, if not during his life. I was the more convinced of this, when a little affair, which I chanced to have with the daughter of my Tu-, drew down my father's wrath upon me in great abundance, and occasioned my being banished to Scotland, along with my brother, under a very poor allowance, without introductions, except to one steady old Professor, and with the charge that I should not assume the title of Lord Oakendale, but content myself with my maternal grandfather's name of Valentine Bulmer, that of Francis Tyrrel being pre-occupied.". Vol. II. p. 287.

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During a grousing expedition undertaken by the young men in the course of the Edinburgh vacation, Francis Tyrrel becomes accidentally acquainted with Clara Mowbray, daughter of the Laird of St. Ronan's, at that time a beautiful girl of sixteen. An attachment takes place between the young people. Lord Oakendale, of whose character some notion may be formed from his own recent narration, encourages them in a clandestine correspondence with a view of embroiling his father and brother, and thereby securing himself in the undisturbed possession of his doubtful rights. Just as the lovers however are on the eve of a private mar riage, the facilities for which have been arranged through his means, Lord Oakendale receives a piece of intelligence from his father which produces some alteration in his plans. It appears that a Mr. Scroggie Mowbray, maternal uncle to Lord Etherington, a man of low birth, and proud of his fancied or real connexion with the Mowbray's of St. Ronan's, whose name he has assumed, has settled his property on the heir of the house of Etherington, on condition of his marrying a daughter of the above-mentioned family. Eager to merit his father's approbation and secure a large estate to himself, Lord Oakendale determines to repair his unwitting mistake by an act of treachery, and having imposed himself on Clara and the clergyman of St. Ronan's in the dusk of the evening, as the real Francis Tyrrel, escapes detection till the marriage ceremony is over. Tyrrel, however, having intercepted the chaise at the moment of its departure, rescues Clara from the hands of the successful impostor, who is dangerously hurt in the recontre, and poor Clara is restored to her friends, who are profoundly ignorant of what has passed, Lord

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Oakendale, in an interview with Tyrrel, is persuaded by the fear of shame to wave his fradulently acquired right, and to quit the neighbourhood of St. Ronan's, but possessing a right to the name of Francis Tyrrel among his many family appellations, he remains the identical" Francis" whom poor Clara has taken for her wedded husband; and no attempt is made to annul the marriage by her lover, who wanders on the Continent for a considerable time, "seeking rest, but finding none." While he is resident at Smyrna, he receives intelligence that his lordly father has fallen a victim to gout, remorse, and domestic disquietude; and has taken measures on his death-bed for reinstating Francis in the family honours. Lord Oakendale, now become presumptive Earl of Etherington, attempts by means of an agent to prevent his brother's return to England, by intercepting his remittances. Francis, however, meets with a friend in need in the person of an English merchant at Smyrna, who proves to be no other than the son of old Scroggie Mowbray, disinherited by his father for his partiality to trade and the family patronymic, and subsequently adopted by an elder partner, whose name he has assumed. By his pecuniary assistance, Francis is enabled to return to England, prepared to establish his rights, and aware of the steps which have been taken against him. Lord Etherington, exasperated and driven to extremities, sets off for Scotland, determined to obtain possession of Clara as a step to that of Nettlewood, and a means of revenge on his brother; but Francis, apprized of his movements by means of a subordinate villain whom the vigilance of Touchwood has détected, arrives before him at the Old Town of St. Ronan's, where he takes up his abode at the Cleikum Inn, kept by his former acquaintance Mrs. Meg Dods. At this period of time, then, commences the action of the first volume, about seven years from the fatal marriage of poor Clara, whom grief has reduced to a state of mental and nervous debility bordering on derangement. In the mean while her brother, who is totally ignorant of the circumstances which have caused this alienation, has succeeded to his father's scanty éstate of St Ronan's, the well of which has risen under the patronage of Lady Penelope Penfeather, a precieuse of fashion, into a modish watering place. Tyrrel, wishing to maintain a strict sincognito, is persecuted by the idle curiosity of the company at the Well, till finally he becomes entangled in a duel with Sir Bingo Binks, an ignorant and brutal English Baronet. *As he is hastening to the place of appointment, he encounters Lord Etherington, unattended by his carriage and servants, and pursuing the foot road to St. Ronan's. The latter, pro

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voked by detection, forces a contest on Francis, and both are wounded. Lord Etherington contrives to reach the Well, laying the blame of his mischance on highwaymen; and Francis absents himself from the Cleikam, why, we are not exactly informed. In the midst of Mrs. Dods's alarms, Touchwood makes his appearance at her inn, having travelled from London to assist Tyrrel in his views, but keeping his purpose a secret from him: and Tyrrel, returning at last safe and well, renews his acquaintance with his former fellow traveller. Lord Etherington, in the mean time, prosecutes his views on Clara by means of her brother John Mowbray, a buck and gambler of the coarsest description; administering to his cupidity by voluntary losses at play, and informing him of just so much of the real state of matters, as may answer his own purpose: while poor Clara remains silent, after the shock of the first meeting, from fear of the disclosure of her fatal secret. After some fruitless negotiations, and equally fruitless attempts on the part of Lord Etherington, to get possession of his brother's documents, he determines to pursue his purpose; to which he bends Mowbray by winning the last stake of his property. The latter, as his only remaining expedient, employs intimidation to extort the consent of Clara, who, however, in the course of the ensuing night, disappears, and is found by Tyrrel in a state of delirium, which soon terminates in her death. Mowbray in the mean time, being made acquainted too late, by means of Touchwood, of the imposture practised by Lord Etherington, challenges the latter, and having killed him on the spot, joins the army on a foreign station as a volunteer. Tyrrel, completely sickened of the world, leaves his title and estate unreclaimed, and engages, as is supposed, in a Moravian mission.

Such is the outline of this melancholy tale, with the catas trophe of which we must own ourselves disappointed, as well as surprised. "The course of true love," we know already, "never did run smooth," but in the present instance every wilful and needless obstacle seems opposed to it; and just at the moment when all things seem conspiring towards a happy conclusion, the death of poor Clara puts an end to all our hopes and interest. Now we do not pretend to be so sqeamish as to reject every tale which cannot boast of a cheerful termination, yet when, as in the present instance, the character and complexion of the book, and the course of events, seem naturally to lead to such a result, the death of the principal person seems a wilful literary murder, however atoned for by the beauty and pathos with which it is executed.

"A convulsive fit followed, and seemed, by its violence, to explain that she was indeed bound for the last and darksome journey. The maid, who at length answered Tyrrel's earnest and repeated summons, fled terrified at the scène she witnessed, and carried to the Manse the alarm which we before mentioned.

"The old landlady was compelled to exchange one scene of sorrow for another, wondering within herself what fatality could have marked this single night with so much misery. When she arrived at home, what was her astonishment to find there the daughter of the house, which, even in their alienation, she had never ceased to love, in a state little short of distraction, and tended by Tyrrel, whose state of mind seemed scarce more composed than that of the unhappy patient. The oddities of Mrs. Dods were merely the rust which had accumulated upon her character, but without impairing its native strength and energy; and her sympathies were not of a kind acute enough to disable her from thinking and acting as decisively as circumstances required. Mr. Tyrrel,' she said, this is nae sight for men folk-ye maun rise and gang to another room.'

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"I will not stir from her,' said Tyrrel-1. will not remove from her either now, or as long as she or I may live.'

"That will be nae long space, Master Tyrrel, if ye winna be ruled by common sense.'

"Tyrrel started up, as if half comprehending what she said, but remained motionless.

Come, come,' said the compassionate landlady; do not stand looking on a sight sair enough to break a harder heart than yours, hinny-your ain sense tells ye, ye canna stay here-Miss Clara shall be well cared for, and I'll bring word to your roomdoor frae half-hour to half-hour how she is.'

"The necessity of the case was undeniable, and Tyrrel suffered himself to be led to another apartment, leaving Miss Mowbray to the care of the hostess and her female assistants. He counted the hours in an agony, less by the watch than by the visits which Mrs. Dods, faithful to her promise, made from interval to interval, to tell him that Clara was not better-that she was worse-and, at last, that she did not think that she could live over morning. It required all the deprecatory influence of the good landlady to restrain Tyrrel, who, calm and cold on common occasions, was proportionally fierce aud impetuous when his passions were afloat, from bursting into the room, and ascertaining, with his own eyes, the state of the beloved patient. At length there was a long interval-an interval of hours-so long, indeed, that Tyrrel caught from it the agreeable hope that Clara slept, and that sleep might bring refreshment both to mind and body. Mrs. Dods, he concluded, was prevented from moving, for fear of disturbing her patient's slumber; and, as if actuated by the same feeling which he imputed to her, he ceased to traverse his apartment, as his agita,

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