and the horses are supposed to be concealed by the side scene. At a signal agreed upon, Celina appears on the terrace; Dorville, who is on the watch, hides himself in the hackney coach, which he has just called, and he tells the coachman it is his intention to wait there awhile. Alphonso appears with a ladder of ropes, and then goes to see that all is safe, and that no one is observing him. Dorville jumps out, takes bold of the ladder, and goes back to his prison. Alphonso on his return, surprised and uneasy at finding the ladder gone, seeks around for the thief; a word from the coachman makes him suspect Dorville; a patrol of the national guard has just past by; they are about to arrest Alphonso, but the thief is in the hackney coach, and the stolen goods are found upon him. This quid pro quo is comic enough; but the mistake is soon cleared up; Dorville is found to be the owner of the house, and Alphonso the nephew, or the son of a Mr. Dermont, the intimate friend of Mademoiselle Dorville, the sister of the guardian, and a great romance reader: he is rich, he is beloved, and he marries her he loves; while Dorville consoles himself with the thoughts of increasing his treasure, and proving himself all his life the man of business, as far as relates to money matters. This piece is certainly wanting in stage effect, and is overcharged with music; while the singers who perform the principal parts are not of the first order. FRENCH LITERATURE. THE NEW GUIDE TO POLITENESS. By M. Emerie. Paris, 1 vol. 8vo, The moderns boast that they are more polished than the ancients; France piques herself on her politeness over all other civilized nations; and the Parisians think they are superior in urbanity and elegance of manners to the rest of their countrymen. It is not to be disputed but that there is some exaggeration and conceit in these assertions. The ancients passed their lives in the tumult of public affairs, or in the silence of their closets; their republican severity held the society of females in contempt, which alone is capable of softening and polishing masculine roughness of manner. Yet we have some works that prove they were perfect models of what is styled the bon ton. Such are the oratorical and philosophical dialogues of Cicero ; which are far superior to the French dialogues on history, the spectacle de la Nature, and their works on botany. It is not likely either that all politeness should be confined just between the Rhine and the ocean, the Pyrennees and the Meuse. We meet with many Germans who are truly graceful in their manners; some English who are perfectly polite, and who have that elegant ease of manner which alone constitutes good breeding; there are Italians too, whose address is extremely insinuating, and Spaniards who unite dignity with the most charming familiarity and con descension. Neither can we agree with M. Emerie, that very often at Paris, "we meet with a woman who sells oranges on the Pont Neuf, who is a hundred times more polite than a rich village bourgeoise." It is true Lady Morgan has expatiated on the urbanity of the water. carriers in France; but then Lady Morgan saw in France what no one else ever saw. This work, however, is a complete code of good manners, in which people of every con dition may find lessons of politeness, from the prime-minister down to the humble messenger. The author exacts, and he is right, much deference towards the public; but he is not less particular towards the public himself: the hissings at the theatres he severely reprobates; he says, they are injurious to the arts; he wishes they could be replaced by silence, when an actor or a piece do not give satisfaction; and that applauses should be always bestowed upon merit. M. Emerie has read a great deal, but what fruit has his reading produced? We cannot forbear asking this question, when we find a man, who is certainly not devoid of good sense, judging Louis XIV. and his contemporaries, after the manners, customs, and opinions of the present day, without making any allowance for the time nor the ideas that predominated, and which ought to have had the sway at that era. We shall close our remarks with observing, that we were much astonished to find such an Arbiter Elegantarium making use of the old Norman, and vnlgar phrase of manger goulement ! LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. WORKS RECENTLY PUBLISHED. The Pirate, by the Author of "Waverley," "Kenilworth," &c. 3 vols. 8vo. pp. 1000, London, 1822. THIS anxiously expected novel is by the received opinion, the production of Sir Walter Scott, presuming him to be the author of Waverley, &c. If this be correct, we have to lament, and even to complain, that the genius, the master-hand, does here not sufficiently mafest itself to maintain his high reputation;|| this is so evident in the Pirate, although possessing much general excellence, that we consider the conclusion may not unfairly be doubted. The Pirate does not possess either the interest in its incidents, or the rich vividness in its descriptions, as those we have feasted on in the generality of the historical Scottish novels; it is, however, valuably stored with those legendary and superstitious fictions, which are so closely interwoven with the history of the country in which the scene is laid; and if the originality of its leading characters had been such as we might expect from the vigorous pen of its reputed author, this novel would still be entitled to rank with our established favourites in the same line. The scene of the story is laid in the island of Zetland, on a remarkable promontory of which (forming its south-eastern termination) there remained at the close of the 17th century, a ruined mansion of singular character, which had been the residence of an ancient Earl of the Orkneys. The cape itself was called Sumburgh-head, the dwelling had the name of Jarlshof, and was the property of Magnus Troil, a Zetland gentleman, of character and manners, convivial, unostentatious, generous to his dependents, kind and hospitable to strangers. The residence of Troil was situated a few miles distant from Sumburghhead, Jarlshof being in the occupation of Mr. Mertoun, a man of extraordinary gloom and reserve, taciturn, and wrapt in impenetrable mystery, a misanthropic recluse. Mr. Mertoun had arrived in Zetland in a Dutch vessel, accompanied only by his son Mordaunt, a handsome and interesting youth of fourteen years of age. it is even dead to the common reciprocities of kindness which sweeten social life; while Mordaunt, a boy ever buoyant, cheerful, and active, displays in the masculine cast of his amusements, and his general deportment, a character suited to the prejudices of the people he is thrown among, and becomes a great favourite; and excelling the youth of the country in their own manly and daring exercises, he acquires a rural celebrity and a universal brotherly esteem. Magnus Troil, a widower, has two daughters of great beauty, Minna, aged eighteen, and Brenda, about one year younger; they are naturally the delight and solace of the father's heart, and are as naturally indulged with the blindness of parental fondness; and they repay his affection with a love uninjured by the levity of youth or feminine caprice. These lovely daughters are portrayed in a manner charmingly striking. "From her mother, Minna inherited the stately form and dark eyes, the raven locks and finely pencilled brows, a stranger to the blood of Thule. Her cheek, "O call it fair, not pale," was so slightly and delicately tinged with the rose, that many thought the lilly had an undue proportion in her complexion. But in that predominance of the paler flower, there was nothing sickly or languid; it was the natural complexion of health, and corresponded in a peculiar degree with features which seemed calculated to express a contemplative and highly-minded character. When Minna Troil heard a tale of woe or of injustice, it was then her blood rushed to her cheeks, and shewed plainly how warm it beat, notwithstanding the generally serious, composed, and retiring disposition, which her countenance and demeanour seemed to exhibit. In short, notwithstanding our wish to have avoided that hackneyed simile of an angel, we cannot avoid saying there was something in the serious beauty of her motions, in the music of her aspect, that seemed as if Minna Troil belonged naturally to some higher and better sphere, and was only the chance visitant of a world that was scarce worthy of her. "The scarce less beautiful, equally lovely, and equally innocent Brenda, was of a complexion as differing from her sister, as they differed in character, taste, and expression. Her profuse locks were of that paly brown which receives a tinge of gold, but darkens again when the ray has passed The father's sadness of spirit never relaxes, from it. Her eye, her mouth, the beautiful row |