"Ah! Gunga, your climate will do that of its own accord,' replied Mr Melville, shrugging his shoulders, and drawing up his fur collar. But, girl, if you had half a spirit, and ruled your husband as every woman ought to do, you would cure him of the absurdity of pauperizing you and your

weans,'

"I am afraid I am aiding and abetting,' said Mrs Ross.

"More fool you. I expect to see you at my door, in an old cloak, with one brat on your back, and three holding your gown, singing

"Pity, kind gentlefolks, friends of humanity,

Cold blows the wind, and the night's coming on."

"The wrong tune, sir; the wrong tune. In charity, you must take a tom-tom, and accompany your niece,' said Mr Ross, forcing a smile, although the bitterly satirical manner of his relative smote upon his heart, together with the thought that poverty might indeed be the lot of those he loved best on earth.

"But Anna's good humour was not easily ruffled, and she knew that her uncle really loved her; she therefore passed her arm playfully through his, and looking up in his faded countenance, said, Then what a cruel uncle ĺ should have, to allow his niece to become a ballad-singer, when she might embroider warm slippers, and knit muffetees, and make and mend his linen, for her own and her children's bread.'”

This is simply silly; our next quotation is spiced with somewhat of the feelings we have above referred to. An old elder, of course "a ve. nerable cottage patriarch," visits the minister in his study, and the twain discourse as follows:

"I'm interruptin' ye, sir, when you wad like to be alone,' said John Colquhoun.

No, John; I am glad to see you,' replied the minister.

"I am come, sir, fra' a few o' my brethren o' the session to assure you that we continue the adherence we formerly expressed to the great truths for which ye are contending; an' that, by the grace of God, we'll stand by you in maintainin' the auld principles o' the Kirk an' Covenant.' "I thank you, John; that is a cordial to me.'

"We ken't, sir, that ye maun be vera sorrowful when ye bade farewell to your pulpit and flock yestreen; and we thocht it micht be a drap o' comfort to be assured o' our adherence-the maist o' the congregation adhere too ;-and o' our wrestlin' wi' the Lord for you and for the Kirk.'

"Ah! John, we have need of your prayers. Thursday will be a winnowing day; pray for us then that our faith may not fail; that we may present an unflinching testimony for the crown rights of Christ.'

"Our_puir supplications ye shall have, sir; ye are called to a great honour. I never thocht to see in my day the renewin' o' the contendins' o' the auld times in Scotland. But the Lord will uphold his servants, and bring his ain glory out o' their trials. And woe to the men that drive his faithful shepherds out o' his fold!'

"Not out of His fold, John; no power in the universe can do that.' "Na, na, sir! It was a sad slip o' the tongue that. But, ochon! what will the Establishment be when the shepherds and the sheep are gone out o' it? And I'm still troubled about the lairds and their followers that are godless men; they who are over high to enter ought but the parish church; alas! they will hear little o' the gospel."

“' For that reason the Lord may permit a few who preach the gospel to remain in the Establishment; and He can revive and purify it when he

pleases,' said the pastor. This idea of leaving the post of influence and usefulness, and giving up the means of reaching the hearts of so many of the worldly, has been far more difficult to meet than the privations to which we may be subjected. But the Head of the Church has shut us up to our course, and we may safely leave consequences with himself.'

"It is a mercy, sir, that the path has been made so plain; that the voice is so clear, 'This is the way, walk ye in it.'

"When we honestly seek guidance, John, we are never left without it.' "I canna see, sir, how ony one acquaint with the history of the Kirk can be taken in by Lord Aberdeen's Bill.'

"It is plausible, by seeming to give the Presbytery the power of giving effect to the wishes of the people in the choice of a minister.'

"Aye, aye, sir; but we a' ken what the moderate Presbyteries did in the auld times; how they gave effect to the wishes o' the people; and we ken what the Strabogie men are doin' noo. Why, it's just the ungodliness o the church courts, or rather ane o' them, that's brought a' the troubles upon the Kirk. The Court o' Session didna interfere until it was invited. Presbyteries broke through the constitution afore; it's no safe to put the power into their hands again.'.

66 6 Unsafe as well as unscriptural; although, thank God, there have been times of revival, and the majority of our ministers are evangelical.'"

Again a few pages further, the minister is returning after the Disruption Assembly--the "exodus," and Canonmills being described by the writer very much after the pictorial manner of the author of the "Ten Years' Conflict," which not the whole appliances of puffing have wafted into fame. His reception is thus described :

"They come! They come! Hurrah! Hurrah for the Free! Hurrah for the True Kirk!' cried the lads at length, throwing their bonnets into the air; while the guard, after a flourish of his bugle, commenced with great spirit the national air, Scots wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled;' and as they neared the town, changed to the Tyrolese Hymn to Liberty,-the youths, who had jumped upon the back of the coach, shouting at the end of each chorus, Liberty, hurrah! Liberty, hurrah!'

"The coachman cleared the bend of the bridge, and drove up to the inn in magnificent style, his horses seeming as proud as himself; and no sooner had he checked them, than a cheer broke from the crowd which made the walls of the old houses ring again.

"The pastor alighted, and many hands were extended to grasp his. 'Ye are welcome hame, sir; ye are welcome;' 'ye ha'e fought a gude fight;' 'ye ha'e stood by the auld blue banner, sir; the Lord bless ye for it;' we'll stand by you, sir, tho' it be on the hill-side or the muir; the times o' the covenant returned-honour to the steadfast.' Such were a few of the sentences that met his ear, as one after another pressed forward to greet him. Many shook his hand in silence, and not a few turned aside to wipe away the large tears which coursed down their cheeks. Some would have detained him in conversation; but old John Colquhoun, with his accustomed sagacity, observed, 'We manna detain the minister enow; he's requirin' rest an' refreshment after his labours;' and, setting the example, he raised his blue bonnet, saying, Farewell, sir; fare ye well, and the blessing of the Head o' the Kirk be wi' you.'"

Satis superque, our readers will perhaps say, of such details. But our authoress must be satirical, and falls foul of various unfortunate individuals whom she would place in the pillory for the horror of her

A Batch of New Books.

"drawing-room" readers. The first is one of these perverse and faithless men who, after going a certain, perhaps a great, length with the movement party, halted before the irrevocable step was taken. Does Mrs Patterson, we enquire in passing, deny to such all claim to the conscientiousness which she lauds in others? We give the extract to shew the spirit of the book, no small part of which is an excessively feeble attempt at libel and mis-representation. Here is Mr Morrison who "preached evangelically," "had even been a member of convocation," and "might have come out' with little danger to his worldly prospects." The end of the week has come :

"On Saturday afternoon he sat in his study, trying to compose his discourses for Sabbath. But a leaden weight seemed to press upon his intellect as well as upon his heart; and at four o'clock his morning lecture was not finished, though it was little more than a dry exposition, for the experimental or the hortatory he had found quite beyond his power. His manuscript was blotted with erasures; his head was in a state of bewilderment; he laid down his pen, and rested his brow upon his hands; but he did not, he dared not think. He arose and walked to the window, and then the dinner-bell rang; never had dinner been so welcome before.

"The half of his solitary beefsteak was sent from table; but when he He looked returned to the study he did finish his lecture. An afternoon sermon was now impossible,-nothing could be done but to give an old one. over his manuscripts, and was almost tempted to burn the half of them. There was spiritual independence in one, non-intrusion in another, the scriptural doctrine of the union of Church and State in a third,—why had he so mingled up ecclesiastical polity with the preaching of the gospel? But there lay his publicly recorded opinions, and what had become of his practice? How he envied the minister of an adjoining parish, who had always been an avowed moderate, and now seemed relieved to have got quit of the evangelicals; nay, how he envied even his other neighbour, Mr Ross, who had preserved his consistency at the expense of his worldly possessions ; But reflections were useless now; he must have a sermon for to-morrow! and after many a turning over, a sermon he found.

"The aspect of the church on Sabbath startled him. He knew that his people loved him; and he doubted not that when he staid in, the majority of them would remain also. With beating heart he ascended the pulpit, and then ventured a look around. The people had not come into their places, he must be too early. He sat awhile, leaning his head upon his A few in the front gallery, and hand; but there was no bustle of entrance. a mere sprinkling in the body of the church, met his eye, instead of his former full congregation. He arose to give out the psalm, but was pale as ashes, and his voice trembled. His prayer was short, and his lecture read as a schoolboy reads. When he returned home he could no longer restrain his feelings; he threw himself upon a sofa, and wept.

"He had espied a probationer in the church, and sent a message requesting him to preach in the afternoon. The young man gladly acceded to the request."

This same unlucky Mr Morrison is forthwith jilted by the young lady to whom his attachment had been declared, but who, in answer to the letter containing "the offer of his heart and home," which she tosses from her "indignantly," probably to alight on a bundle of the "Witness" and of " Appeals," blandly declares, “A home, purchased by infiNever will Elizabeth Munro share such a one! What delity to Christ.

is the worth of a heart untrue to Him?" The effect on the unlucky suitor, moreover, is declared to be such that he gives himself to indolent depression, falls into bad health and goes abroad,- an unordained assistant, cold and careless, occupying his place."

There is, however, a model Lady Grace, who offers seasonable help to Mr and Mrs Ross, something like the "Mother Bountiful" of the fairy tale, while a variety of other figures are likewise introduced. We cannot say that there is much of individuality about any of them, or that the story as it progresses rises above the lower rank of this kind of production. Once or twice the writer gives utterance to a natural sentiment, or favours us with a pathetic scene; but it is ludicrous to speak of the work as a whole in any terms of commendation. It is animated chiefly where it is inaccurate and malevolent, and is, on the whole, a poor and harmless affair, which can delude only the very prejudiced and ill-informed amongst those who are not always members of the "gentler sex." Next we have Mary Mathieson, or Duties and Difficulties.

This unpretending little story contains ample materials for a three volume novel, and it is certainly from no lack of ability to extend it to the orthodox size of circulating library tales, that its author has restricted it within the modest limits of one small octavo. We have met with very many romances, filling three times the space of " Mary Mathieson," with much less of interesting narrative, of graphic description to carry on the reader's attention to their close, and with the facility of style and power of sketching character possessed by the author. We hope that, gathering confidence with practice, we may yet see more ambitious productions from her pen. The tale recounts the alas! too common history related by herself, of an Edinburgh Writer to the signet, who, having always lived up to his income, dying, leaves his family in nearly destitute circumstances, thereby entailing on his eldest, Mila, the necessity of lessening her mother's burthens by maintaining herself as a governess. In this situation she encounters the average amount of selfish coldness, and ignorant superciliousness of her employer, and all the desagremens incidental to the breaking in of an over-indulged child; gains the affections of the heir,-whose attentions she refuses from a sense of duty,and returns home under the depression of spirits and languor of frame ever attendant on the disappointed affections of young heroines. After two years moping in the maternal mansion, Mary again quits her family for what can scarcely be called a position of dependence, as it is less in the capacity of a governess than as a beloved companion and valued friend, that she is invited by its venerable master to take up her abode in the vicarage of B- Here she passes several uneventful but happy years, when a sudden turn of fortune recals her home, to find her family reinstated in all their former opulence, and of course surrounded by the summer friends who had forsaken them in the winter of their adverse fortunes. As "the worm i' the bud," however, still "preys on her damask cheek,” her mother, in alarm for her health, sends her off with her eldest brother George (a fine fellow, and now Laird of Millholm), and her sister Emma, to try the effect of some of the German spas, as "a cure for love," which proves highly beneficial; though how far the medicinal properties of the

1 Oliphant & Sons, Edinburgh.

waters were increased by the presence of her discarded lover, (whom, with his sister, Mary's old pupil Lucy, the party accidentally met at Hamburg.) the chronicle sayeth not. This portion of the volume is by very much the most entertaining, containing, as it does, a series of very lively letters descriptive of life in Germany, and which are obviously the result of the writer's personal experience. From this point the story assumes a very sombre colouring, to end at last in the darkness of death, -and this we regret on two accounts; first, because we have a constitutional dislike to leaving people in unhappy circumstances; and second, because we conceive that it hurts the cause of religion, to represent it, as is almost invariably the case with what are called religious tales, as eternally surrounded by gloom and the afflictive dispensations of Providence. The sound and earnest piety which breathes throughout this little volume, assures us that the writer's religion is not of that gloomy nature which "can weep with those that weep," but forgets "to rejoice with them that do rejoice;" and we hope that on some future occasion she may exhibit the faith of the comforter,-not only as the solace of the mourner, but as the ever present joy and reward of the prosperous believer. We think, after all her trials, and patient resignation under them, poor Mary was entitled to her lover, and some small share of happiness at last; and as the aim of every writer ought to be not so much to depict life as it actually may be and often is, as to inculcate a lesson, we think it would likely have made the sacrifices of duty less repulsive to her younger readers, had the author made the denouement more happy.

The sketch of the Scotch nurse is very good and extremely characte ristic, but we must confess we were susprised to find a writer of such acuteness committing the ineffable silliness of quoting a child who died at the mature age of seven as an example of piety and miraculous moral influence. That some poor infants are done to death by extremely foolish people straining their tender capacities to the understanding of what is far beyond the comprehension of the loftiest intellect, is unfortunately but too true, but the parrot-like chatter of a sick baby, crammed with pharasaical cant, is not the sign of health in the soul, but of disease in the brain; and as the author of Mary Mathieson may, without presumption, hope for a more intelligent class of readers than the credulous believers in saints in long clothes, we hope she will in future exert her influence rather to destroy than encourage the morbid taste which requires a continual massacre of the innocents for its gratification.

The tale next upon our list, entitled "The Mingled Yarn," by Eliza Smith, is of a different description, and belongs to that class of wholesome literature, free from polemical acidity, which deserves encouragement. We have no pandering to pharisaic prejudice,-no inflated language or unnatural positions; but an enlightened Christian feeling animates the composition. A variety of incidents enliven the pages, -and the work may be very safely placed in the hands of young females, who will find in it inuch that will interest them, and not a few remarks of a suggestive description, fitted to awaken serious and profitable thought.

1 Moodie & Lothian, Edinburgh.