of the whole mystery, and the claims and rank of his daughter. Armed with the authority of the dying nobleman, he rescues Miss Bellenden, or more properly Lady Louisa Clarendon, from the designs of Dossiter and his son upon her person, and fortune; narrowly himself escaping detention in the private madhouse to which they have decoyed her under false pretences. In the mean while Lord Harweden dies, leaving the bulk of his property to his brother Mr. Levison Rycott, as an atonement for past injuries; and settling a handsome competence only on his daughter, whom the artifice of the Dossiters had induced him to believe weak in her intellects. Dossiter, who miscalculates his man, attempts to make a merit with the new Lord Harweden by suppressing the proofs of Lady Louisa's birth; which however in consequence of the negligence of young Dossiter, fall into the hands of Percy, and the plotters are brought to open shame. Lord Harweden receives his newly-discovered niece with the utmost cordiality, and with her perfect concurrence, labours to unite her to Percy; who, however, perseveringly refuses their tempting offers of fortune and connexion, on the ground of the blot in his own scutcheon. Circumstances however come to light, which clear up the difficulties occasioned by his unnecessary diffidence. One of the persons tried for the murder of Lord Brandon proves to be the husband of Judy Mallory, returned from transportation; and in the course of the trial, is confronted with witnesses who establish the real identity both of Percy and the pseudo-nobleman. The former is joyfully reinstated in the honours which rightfully belong to him, and the story of course terminates happily with the marriage of the cousins. Such is the plot; a fuller and clearer abstract of which would have encroached on the patience of our readers, and our own prescribed limits. The author's love of bustle and complication, and the conscious facility which he evidently feels in the use of these literary stimulants, appear to us to have led him into a good deal of unnecessary finesse; and involve his readers, if not himself, in perplexities which require almost the perseverance and practised acuteness of an Old Bailey counsel to unravel. The substitutions, transfers, and recovery of the respective children for instance, and the processes by which their identity is ascertained, or said to be ascertained, (for we are not without our doubts upon this subject,) is really difficult reading, and will hardly answer as a breakfast-table lounge, even to those who are disposed to expend trouble on such investigations. It must be owned, indeed, that the curiosity of the reader is strongly excited, and the secret of the denouement

so well kept, as to puzzle us till the last; and perhaps, this is incompatible with any other style of writing. We cannot see however, what purpose is answered by the unnecessary episode of Miss de Lacy's supposed attachment to Percy, and the mistakes thereby occasioned, except to display ingenuity, and "Like Mr. Parker,

To make things darker,"

which were "dark enough without." Independent of which, the attention of the author himself is diverted by such matters from the due management of the more important parts of the story.

The conduct of Judy Mallory when under the alias of Mrs. Wigram, and tenant of the cottage in the hills, is palpably inconsistent with the projects attributed to her; and it is evident that the identification of the two persons was an after thought in the Author's mind. Generally speaking, however, the incidents and equivoques are conducted well, and the writer seems to jump in his self-imposed trammels with liveliness and ease. The whole scene with mine hostess and the mad doctor, and the incidents of the inn, are one continued farce well kept up.

We can hardly say so much for the more serious adventures, particularly when by their romantic turn they challenge a comparison with the horrors of the Kaim of Derncleugh, and the dangers of the Halket-head Craigs: 'or, we may add, the almost equally admirable escape of Mr. Keith and his ward in Reginald Dalton. Compared with such scenes as these, Miss Bellenden's perils on the mountains are rather prolixly and confusedly told, and the langnage of Percy is much too set and courtly for such a situation. "Exert your energies."-" Embrace with increased force, for a single moment, the branch which passes under your arm."-" It is rotten and even now trembles under our weight; a feather would overwhelm us."-" My very voice shakes our tottering foundations."-" Cheery, cheery, my fair fellow sufferer."-Are expressions which contrast to disadvantage with the few short decisive words used by Lovel and his assistants on a similar occasion.

"The lassie; the poor sweet lassie,—God guide us, how can she ever win through it?"

"I'll climb up the cliff again, there's daylight enough left to see my footing."

Canny now, lads, canny now,-swerve the yard a bit.-Now, -there she sits safe on dry land!”

The scene in the smuggler's den is not without its merit

and interest, but the good natured facility with which the author arranges every thing to meet the wishes of the rescuer and the rescued, reminds us of the accommodating spirit displayed in the old romance of the Fool of Quality, and certainly removes many of our apprehensions for the safety of Percy.

The characters, though not possessing any thing strikingly original, are well marked and discriminated. The father of Percy in particular improves upon us from a peevish valetudinarian into something reminding us of our old friend Munden's best characters, full of whimsical feeling and testy benevolence. Mrs. Rycott may be thought over-strained, but we have known exactly such persons, and the portrait is so true to the life, that we will venture to say that the author has known them too. But surely nothing alive, be it fish, flesh or fowl, can possibly have suggested to him the idea of Sir Hugh and Lady Rodolpha de Lacy, whose obsolete absurdities outdo the stiffest caricature to be found in Richardson.

"Coming, coming'-as he heard a voice again at the door; and with his morning jacket half on, rushing past the speaker before he had uttered two sentences, darted down stairs, and, throwing open the door of the drawing room, had nearly overturned Sir Hugh and Lady Rodolpha, who had approached the point, in readiness to receive the report of their fourth ambassador.

"I beg ten thousand pardons, Sir Hugh Lady Rodolphabut

"Lady Rodolpha's hand awaits you, Mr. Percy Rycott; we will discuss your apologies at a more convenient moment-Dinner has waited near seven minutes.'

Percy led forward the hostess in all the pomp of Mecklin lappets, point ruffles, and damask drapery, that moved without the rumple of a fold, like a Dutch toy, on wheels. He would have made his peace during the journey across a hall that traversed the whole depth of the mansion, and through a suite of papered and bagged apartments which led to the salon à diner; but a very short observation of her Ladyship's checked his first attempt.

"There were few points,' she remarked, in which good Sir Hugh was so particular as punctuality in all engagements.'

"Percy said no more; her ladyship on their arrival took her seat at the head of the table, Sir Hugh seated himself at the bottom; Miss Gertrude and Percy vis a vis made up the partie carrée. Even the chaplain was absent, who, though partaking in the family characteristics, Percy had calculated upon as an occasional diversion in his favour, as he felt little disposed to take a share in any conversation likely to occur.

"Good Dr. Patterson is obliged to absent himself on account

of some urgent business at Kendal,' observed Lady Rodolpha, as a sort of implied apology to Percy for Sir Hugh taking upon himself the duty of saying grace.

"Indeed!' sighed Percy, viewing the formidable array of domestics planted round him, as if presenting a new barrier against escape, which seemed to engage his speculations to the exclusion of every thing else. After a long pause,

"Tell Mrs. Knowles,' said Sir Hugh, looking benevolently towards the butler, whilst his eyes watered, and the colour on his cheeks was somewhat heightened, that she has been rather too bountiful with her seasoning in the soup.'

"Certainly, Sir Hugh, but I had informed Mrs. Knowles, Sir Hugh, that her ladyship, on Tuesday last, thought the vermicelli -rather insipid.'

"Excellent Roland,' interrupted her ladyship, you recollect my most trifling wishes.'

"They are our law, my Lady,' and at the signal, all the greyheaded livery-men, bowed in token of their sympathy,

6

"Extremes,' observed Sir Hugh, with a smile, are generally pernicious; and so, my good Lady Rodolpha, I have been a martyr in your cause; your Ladyship cannot do less than assuage my torments by a glass of Madeira.'

"God forbid!' returned the gracious lady, that I should ever be the occasion of torment to my ever-indulgent Sir Hugh; but I flatter myself if your present sufferings can be so easily relieved, they have not been very excruciating; am I not a saucy creature, Sir Hugh?'

"You are all excellence, and are never more endeared to me than when your ladyship suffers your little playfulness of fancy to animate our happy domestic circle. Good Roland, a glass of old Madeira to your excellent lady.'

"You have forgiven good Mrs. Knowles, my best of friends,' said Lady Rodolpha, with one of her most winning smiles, 'for her bountiful extreme.'

"Sweetly engaging Lady Rodolpha! had I really cause of offence, your ladyship's happy mode of intercession would make me forget it, in the admiration of a talent so peculiarly your own.' "Kind Sir Hugh! you will make me vain.'

"No one has more reason-no one is less likely to become so than Lady Rodolpha de Lacy

"I declare, Sir Hugh, you make me blush'

"For a naughty world, excellent woman, but never for yourself. Worthy Roland,' turning to the butler, tell Mrs. Knowles that her soup is like all she does-she is indeed a most excellent person.'

"You are the most charitable-Sir Hugh,' said her ladyship, in a subdued tone of voice.

"It is my humble effort to be so; it is the duty of us all to be so; tell her, good Roland, that her soup is admirable-but add, as

from yourself, that perhaps it would suit the taste of Lady Rodolpha and myself better, were it, in future, less highly seasoned.'

"I shall, Sir Hugh-what a master!' was added in a half whisper to Mr. Polson, the steward, who stood retired; and was seconded by a bend, as before, from every one of the grey-headed circle in worsted-lace." Vol. I. p. 231.

The conception of the Dossiters, both father and son, does the author great credit. The cautious diplomatic mystery of the father, rendered habitual by the alarming consciousness of his past and present rogueries, is well contrasted with the cool coxcombical finesse of the equally worthless son; and in spite of the thorough villainy of the latter, it is impossible not to admire the calm address with which he fairly bullies and manages the whole knot of legal jesters in chap. 2. vol. ii.

Equally impossible is it not to feel a kindness for Grandison de Lacy, introduced as we are to the secret of his character and absurdities by his own confession; which, without inquiring whether it would be quite natural for such a man' to make it even to his friend, we will quote as one of the best specimens of the author's peculiar vein.

"Why, lookye, Percy, here stand I, when I parted from you three years ago, I made my entré into these scenes, and passed a season in the gay world at home before I started on my travels. I certainly knew more of what was worth knowing at that time than I do now; and I have unlearnt more than I shall ever redeem. I was blest with youth-of person I say nothing-only that it is certainly not improved. I could boast fortune, rank, and the first connections in the country; but I was diffident, and the men shouldered me; I was modest, and the women laughed at me; I was sober, and the gay world despised me; I refused to play, and I was voted' a bore'. I had nothing left for it but to go abroad ; and not being so intrinsically modest as I was habitually bashful, I flattered myself by the reflection, that no man was a prophet in his own country. But I found the principle the same wherever I went, although manners and habits varied the mode of displaying it. I saw that impudence prevailed universally, and that modest worth must be its own reward, or limit its returns to the patronage of prudes past sinning-or very good sort of men whom nobody knew and nobody cared for. What was to be done, Percy, hey?' "If you ask me seriously,' replied the Tyro, smiling, I should. have been satisfied with a clear conscience, and gladly have abandoned so heartless a system.'

"Aye, aye-that's all mighty well with such moral good sort of fellows as you, who have a stock in hand to satisfy all immediate demands; but what is a man to do, who, like myself, prefers any society to solitude, and who consider myself that is, myself, per se,