Licensers; and have no wish to encroach upon the office of George Colman, Esq., or to be the police-magistrates of the suburbs of literature. If, now and then, such a work appears as Tremaine or as Salathiel, distinguished either by a higher aim or by the visible stamp of brilliant genius, we are not backward to do justice to its merits; but, with regard to the general run of such works, they must take their course. We have not yet attained the art of reviewing a work without reading it; and to read such works, is a self-denying process to which even our paternal regard for our readers is insufficient to reconcile us.

But these volumes we have read; and we shall therefore proceed to give an account of the story. At the commencement of the work, the reader is introduced to a happy and virtuous domestic circle, consisting of the family and visiters of an old gentleman of fortune and influence in Devonshire. His daughter, Lydia Orton, a young lady of superior mind and serious disposition, is on the eve of marriage with a Mr. Stavely, a large proprietor in the neighbourhood, for whose arrival she is looking hourly with all the fluttering anticipations of a bride. He arrives, and all goes on happily, till the opposition Mr. Stavely thinks proper to give to the schemes of the Sectarian,'-a Mr. Hanby, brings him into all sorts of trouble. Through the vindictive machinations of this happy combination of Shylock ' and Macsycophant,' Louis Stavely is prevented from obtaining possession of his estate; his marriage is postponed, and he leaves the scene of religious strife in disappointment and disgust. During his absence from the village, Miss Orton is induced to hear a Calvinistic preacher of imposing talents, in consequence of which, a most deplorable revolution takes place in her sentiments; she embraces the new opinions, leaves the Church of England, becomes a Baptist, and refuses to marry the man she loves, and to whom her faith is plighted. Her mother also becomes a Dissenter; a brother in London turns Methodist; and old Mr. Orton, a staunch friend of the Church of England, dies of a broken heart. Poor Lydia, however, is rescued from the snares of the fanatics, and her eyes are opened, though too late to save the life of her father, or to secure the hand of her lover. She is brought round by a course of light and amusing tales and essays', by an interview with an unhappy victim of religious madness, and by the successful reasoning and badinage of an old East Indian. She at length rejoins the Church of England, marries a reformed rake, and is of course very gay and very happy ever after.

From this outline, it will be evident, that the originality of the story, the extreme cleverness of the plot, and the felicity of the denouement are surpassed only by the accurate knowledge of human character and the fervent attachment to the Church of

England, which the Author displays. The moral of the story is so obvious, that we scarcely need point it to our readers: in a few words, it is the trite and well established position, that the meeting-house is the half-way house to Bedlam. The sectarians in and out of the church, the favourers of Bible societies, tract societies, village libraries, &c., consist of two classes, cheats and dupes, the deceivers and the deceived. Their true character is drawn by Butler, Moliere, and Foote. The Church of England religion is, as King Charles said, the only religion for a gentleman; for, leaving the thirty-nine articles to the clergy, it consists in-living like a gentleman and going to church. We shall insert the following description of a Missionary meeting, as a fair specimen of the humour, truth, and candour of this most facetious and religious writer.

The room was already nearly full, for it being fair-day, the people were agog for every variety of entertainment, and numbers pressed forward to get a sight of a lord, and to wonder at the piety of great people. A table and chair were placed of course at the upper end of the room, on an elevation originally constructed and still serving for a stage for certain play-actors who exhibited here; and on this stage were placed rows of forms, on which the actors in this day's exhibition had already planted themselves for the convenience of showing off, and were conning over the speeches by which they meant to challenge village praise and religious distinction. The anxious countenances, gay dresses, and stretched-out necks of the LADIES, who had come to be religious, and to delight their ears with the speeches of their husbands and brothers, so conspicuous near to the seat of his lordship, added great brilliancy to the assembly; and the prim sanctified faces (rather low, according to Lavater) and straight hair of many grave men scattered among the crowd, showed evidently that the present was a meeting of a purely religious character.

The saddler knowing what was what, and how to take a hint from a great man, pushed Creevy up near the table, ready to be brought forward on the scene, when his lordship's eye should so indicate. And now that pious nobleman entered, amid the cheers of this respectable assembly, followed by a retinue of godly hangers on; a set of persons who (the truth must come out sometimes) were very indifferent whether they were called in their patron's service to be preachers or pimps, being as ready in any office as the Highlandman was to go and be hanged, and for the same reason, namely, "to please the laird."

The tout ensemble of this august meeting was at this moment most imposing. His lordship having looked triumphantly round, gave a sign, and some one climbed up to lower the tops of the long windows for the admission of fresh air. This induced the people to look upwards, where an object was seen which had a strange effect in the eyes of an observer or two present, being considered by them as a sort of motto or frontispiece to what they expected to take place. A part of the proscenium, and other of the paltry decorations of the actors, profanely stood conspicuous, and in the very centre of a canvas stretch

ing across over the heads of his lordship and friends were painted the figures of a zany, with his cap and bells, and of a harlequin, with his mask and motley coat, and acting his antics; which these observing persons noticed as a most apt coincidence, as characterizing the scene just about to be acted.

His lordship rose, and with much dignity stated the object of the meeting; painted in the most affecting language the deplorable ignorance and miserable condition of the people of Loo Choo, and hoped, that as there were so many other valuable societies, who were busy converting people in all other parts of the globe, the present most respectable assembly would support him in forming this present projected institution, of which he might humbly claim the merit of being the sole inventor.

A young gentleman with a fiery red head and a stiff collar, instantly rose, as concerted, and having in his own mind sanguine expectations of a good place in church or chapel, begged most respectfully to second his lordship's most praiseworthy views; showed clearly the imperious necessity that something should be done to relieve the people of Loo Choo; proposed a set of resolutions; and ended by descanting with glowing and weary eloquence upon the unspeakable piety and worth of the noble contriver of the forthcoming society. A second, a third, a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth, rose successively, and speechified, with little variation, in the same strain. One undertook to answer the objections of scoffers and profane persons, by showing how much the Loo Choo people were in need of a cargo of pious youths, and took upon himself to assert most distinctly, that the accounts of various ungodly voyagers were infamously false; these narrators, like most other men who dabbled in literature, being, as he could maintain from his own knowledge, nothing but infidels and atheists at the bottom. In confirmation of this, he read a letter from a man in one of the ships which had visited these islands (a man who, though nothing but a common sailor, was filled with piety and the spirit), which flatly contradicted almost every word of the printed accounts of the officers, and asserted that the people in Loo Choo were hungering and thirsting for the word, &c. &c.

Another man, who was of his lordship's retinue, spoke a speech, in which he censured strongly the men of this generation for their stinginess in the good cause, abused them for spending their odd money in the alehouse, instead of giving it to "the Lord" for the conversion of the heathen, and scolded the ladies until they blushed, for wantonly adorning their bosoms with gold chains and precious stones, so long as there was a stone in the temple of God's house that remained to be built up. But as there are never wanting persons in the world who will see things in righteous men which ought not to be seen, there were persons present who had the profanity to observe, that this good man (who was a broken trader, and travelling agent for several rich societies,) wore himself a great goggling brooch in the frill of his shirt, and had a bunch of gold seals hanging to his fob, each of which was almost the size of a smoothing iron.

But, to be brief, they all agreed in glorifying the good cause, and lauding the chairman and each other in the most fulsome and even im

pious terms. A praised B, who in return praised A, and included C, who next glorified D, and that worthy man E, who was quite overpowered by his feelings when he thought upon the virtues and piety of the whole, and also of his incomparable friends F and G; and so they went through the whole of the men on the elevated seats, like the "babbling echo." But the chorus of praise was still his lordship himself, who was the theme of universal admiration, as the greater among the lesser lights. Some most pleasant wit was sported by a young gentleman with a white hand and strongly smelling of musk, who still turned to the ladies as he spoke in the most graceful manner, and made them merry at the expense of the Loo Choo people and their describers; the latter of whom, he said, with that perversion of mind which ever accompanies the want of spiritual light, had ignorantly praised the condition of people who had no money and little zeal about religion, and who were even destitute of weapons of warfare, either spiritual or temporal, whereby they might contend withal. Another man, of a grave age, and bearing a most religious look, said many edifying things in praise of the good work, as he showed the incalculable service his pious lordship had done for the world, as a leading man in the great society for the conversion of the Jews, which, it was well known, had made so many sincere converts, at so small an expense, and he rejoiced to think that that noble society having taken in hand to forward the millennium, it was just coming on (as our wise men clearly saw), and was in fact almost daily expected.'

The resolutions that had been read in favour of the Loo Choo people were all adopted with enthusiasm, office-bearers were appointed, and money was subscribed. Mr. Creevy was milked of a guinea on the occasion, and charity sermons were planned for all the churches and chapels that would aid in furtherance of this great work. The company separated in the best spirits, most of the speechifiers to a dinner, made and provided in the cause of the Antipodean Society, at which even Mr. Creevy was to have a seat, besides dining, as he was invited to do, with the paper-dealer on the following day, previous to the important labours of the fair. Meantime my Lord Överly's secretary was despatched off to the county town, to have the proceedings duly set forth in the newspapers; and thus these important transactions were got through with the utmost unanimity, and scarcely a murmur was heard of disapprobation or dissent.

There was murmuring, however, on an obscure seat near the door; but the murmur was not heard, nor was ever meant to be audible. It was not loud, but deep, and deep-seated, and deeply impressed. It came, mingled with heavy sighs and sorrowful moralizing, from a thin wan-looking widow, with five children, who had many relatives and acquaintances among the foremost of the meeting. Lord Overly's friends they all were, but they were now no friends to her, or her fatherless orphans, although her deceased husband had been, as she believed, the friend and the dupe of most of them for many years; and her acquaintance was, unfortunately, with scarcely any other

sort.

• She confessed to herself that she had attended the meeting simply from curiosity, or that painful feeling that leads one in misfortune to

probe into, and trace out, what mankind are capable of, and what are the excuses framed out of the human heart to evade the common calls of humanity, by selfish narrow-mindedness, vanity, and hypocrisy. Nearly two years she had struggled to maintain her fatherless charge; her comfortable relatives could not afford to assist her. Three of her infants were to go the workhouse next week, and that would break her heart; but she had a curiosity to know what they, who could not afford a little help to the widow and children of a relative or acquaintance, could give to the antipodeans of Loo Choo, who, she understood, had manifested no wish to import English religion.'

But who cares for the murmurs and secret sorrows of the poor widow and the fatherless children? The world is occupied with the public religion of such as my Lord Overly. Reader! moralize, if you will-our tears are almost exhausted!' Vol. II. pp. 156–171.

Our readers will have had enough of the Sectarian; and some of them may be ready to wonder why we have devoted so much space to such despicable ribaldry. We have several reasons to give. The first is, that we really deem the work highly instructive, though the instruction is not such as the Writer designed to impart. His immediate object was, doubtless, to spin out three volumes; and his choice of a subject and a title, was prudently regulated by a modest estimate of his own powers, and the necessity of producing something that would sell. The work has sold, has been praised as a work of talent, only a 'little too severe upon sectarians'; and Mr. Andrew Picken ranks among the promising writers of the Colburn school. Little as he may value our praise, we must add, that we think far more highly of his abilities and his capabilities, than this work would warrant. The Author of the beautiful tale of Mary Ogilvie must be a man of considerable native talents, of keen sensibilities, and redeemable feelings. We are willing to impute to profound ignorance of religion and the religious world, the caricature he has exhibited; and the instruction which we derive from his work is this.

In the first place, it lets us see, under what aspect what is called sectarianism, pharisaism, evangelicalism, presents itself to the class-we do not say whom the Writer represents, but for whom he writes, and the feelings of bitter aversion with which they regard religious people. On whose account ought this chiefly to be deplored? Surely not on theirs who are the objects of this mortal hatred. The hater is always most to be pitied. Whatever he may have it in his power to inflict upon others, he bears within himself an element of misery far greater than any external causes can produce. And as to writers who can stoop to become panders to the malignity of the infidel and the revelry of the licentious,-it is at their own peril and to their own infinite degradation and damage. It is theirs to curse: but