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ceeded day, and still the unconscious invalid lossed “ Catherine, 1 fear this sick room is but a dull to and fro, every hour becoming weaker; yet the place for you. I shall tell my mother to invite fever did not abate.

M. Lubin to spend the evening here to cheer At last the night of the crisis came, Victor had you.” fallen into a heavy sleep— that sleep which, when “Do not be cruel, Victor; M. Lubin is nothing ended, might reveal the worst. Catherine had re- to me. Did he save my life ?" tired from the bed lest, on first waking, the sight

“And the fact of my having had that great of her might startle him ; Jeannie knelt by her happiness is to weigh doirn the scale even against son. As the morning dawned he opened his eyes, M. Lubin and all his advantages.” and said, “Mother, where am I ?".

“Certainly, if the scale had not been weighed

down long before by soinething else." Oh! the joy of that voice; it was his own accent, though weak and trembling. She gave

“And what was tbat something else ?” cried he, him some nourishment, and with a few loving drawing her towards him, “what wonderful thing words he fell asleep again. The danger was passed could out balance M. Lubin, -- his fashion, his for- her son was spared.

tune, bis jewelry--the carriage he would provide Catherine continued in her office of nurse, for you, the rich dresses you would be enabled to bay he was very much reduced, and required constant —what was it ?”! care, and though all excitement was strictly for

She looked into his eager face, her eyes were bidden, and he was scarcely allowed to speak, filled with tears, and with a trembling voice, as it seemed to do him good to watch her as she she laid her head upon his shoulder, she saidmoved lightly about the room.

Forgive all my folly, Victor, for it wasOne aftercoon, when he had recovered a little Love." strength, he was sitting propped up by pillows. “My own Catherine," whispered he, "we have The window was open, and the fresh spring air been in great danger, and yet we have been spared was blowing in, while the warm sunshine illu- | to each other. The rain has ceased from the earth, mined the room. Catherine was arranging a and the clouds have passed away. Oh, let no bouquet of flowers which she had just brought more shadows ever come again between thee and in, when Victor called her to him, and said, me."

TANGLED TALK.

"Sir, we had talk."--Dr. Johnson.
" Better be an outlaw than not free."-Jean Paul, the Only One.

" The honourablest part of talk is to give the occasion ; and then to moderate again, and pass to somewhat else."- Lord Dacon.

MRS. GASKELL'S LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE. There was, however, one small criticism, which It is possible that some of the readers of these Mrs. Gaskell's volumes clear up. After the gossipping papers may remember one in July, quotation of a verse of Carrer Bell's to illustrate 1855, about “Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell,” in an occasional want of literary congruity in her wbich the present writer—then a scribbler of a poetry, came two of Ellis Bell's, to illustrate a few months' standing-summarised, in a discur- similar want in her's :sive, but neither careless nor aimless way, portions “It would not do ; the pillow glowed, of his information and speculations about the

And glowed both roof and floor, three sisters. It is due to such readers, who may

And birds sang loudly in the wood, not have an opportunity of seeing Mrs. Gaskell's

And fresh winds shook the door.

The curtains .waved; the wakened flies volumes, and it is due to the writer's own feelings

Were murmuring round my room, -keenly interested as they are in all that relates Imprisoned there till I should rise, to Charlotte Brontë—to correct a mis-statement

And give them leave to roam. in that sketch, of which he cannot now remember It throws an interesting light upon the unconthe source, further than that it was something he sciousness with which this quaint passage evidently saw in a provincial newspaper. Mr. Brontë did slipped from Emily's pen, to learn, as now, that not, as then stated, marry his wife against the her love for "dumb animals” ainounted to a positive wishes of her friends--there was no opposition. “passion,"—so strong a passion, that one who knew Neither was he living at Penzance ; the young her could say, “She never loved human creature, lady, however, was of Cornish parentage. In -only dumb things"-an exaggeration, of course, other respects, the paper conveyed, as far as the for Emily was a woman of mighty affections, notwriter bas now the means of checking it, no erro- withstanding that fierce reticence of hers, which nuous impressions.

whenever we think of it, reminds us of Lord

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Bacon's essay beginning, “It were hard for him my head being too bad to allow of my reading it that spake it to have put more truth and untruth myself. I was dreadfully "upset” by it, and so together in few words, than in that speech, Who- was the reader, to whom it was also new. I soever is delighted in solitude is either a wild never doubted the author was a woman ; I was beast or a god.'” However, a correction like this particularly struck by her minute choice of words; of a first and natural impression about another's I fancied her style would ultimately alter (as it in writing should make us careful in our criticisms. fact did) if she wrote more books ; I smiled at the It is not easy for you or me to think of getting crudeness of her phrenological comments, for out of bed to unfasten a door and let out a parcel crude they were—correct, but not such as would of buzzing flies, as poetic material; but to Emily have fallen from the pen of one familiar with Brontë a “ blue-fly singing i' the pane" was quite phrenology. I could not resist an impression, a different creature froin what it is to you and founded on I know not what, that Currer Bell was me, and to her it did supply poetic material, be- a self-trained woman, looking at life from an indc. cause it touched her heart. Do we not remember pendent point of view, and I was puzzled to recona passage in which Christopher North suggests cile the (presumed) self-culture, and the gipsey that the blame is ours, not Homer's, if the com- freedom, with the lady like air which after all perparison of the land of the Phæacians looming vaded the book. I thought, however, that Mr.

like a bull's hide” across the dark sea is not Rochester was made to address Jane in language found agreeable ? At all events there never was, no gentleman would use to a lady, especially in and never will be, poet or artist, capable of always the talk which ensued after she had refused to drawing the line between material which is uni- marry him. Years after I was to learn that others, versally poetic, and that which is only poetic not less gifted than Currer Bell, could fall into a relatively to his own idiosyncracy : such a consum- precisely similar error; anything more prepos. mation would clearly imply the destruction of terous than that conversation between Lancelot idiosyncracy altogether. We must take the “light and Argemone in-“Yeast," as they walked together that never was on sea or shore” as we can get it, in the dark, I can hardly remember. But nothing through the many-coloured glass of the individual struck me so forcibly in "Jane Eyre,” as the mind, tinged with its prepossessions, its special strong imprint upon every page of a thoroughly experiences, its likes and dislikes, all its little conscientious nature. It is the rarest of all mannerisms of thought and expression. Nor qualities in books, and I am not sure that I know should we fail to notice how any strong feeling or any writer, except Mrs. Gaskell

, who put so much new association may lift almost anything—perhaps of it into her writing as Charlotte Brontë. I anything, without reserve-into the sphere of have always held Mr. Benson, in “Ruth," to poetry. I, for one, shall, in future, think of flies be the model of a conscientious man. with a 'somewhat different feeling. The buzzing "Jane Eyre," then, was the very first modern of an imprisoned blue-bottle will always suggest novel I ever read. If it had not been for its celcEmily Brontë.

brity, which made its name almost a household I must beg leave to have my gossip out, con- word, possibly I should never have read it. Some cerning this book, for my relations to “ Jane time elapsed before I read another work of fiction, Eyre” are somewhat peculiar. When it was

-a year or more : when, being again ill, I read published in 1947, though a student in my way, Hawthorne's “Scarlet Letter.” It was years and given to occasional verse making, such leisure before I could so far get clear of the shadow of as I had was devoted to languages, theology, and strict early habits as to look upou novel-reading metaphysics. I had read no recent poet, and in any other light than as an indulgence for sick knew nothing of recent literature. The habits of and incapable moments. If “ Jane Eyre' had a stern Calvinistic training stayed with me, and been a feeble, foolish, or mischievous tale, the the only "story-books” I had ever seen were Charles probabilities are that I never should have got Lamb's “Rosamund Gray," and St. Pierre's clear of that shadow. In truth, my obligations "Paul and Virginia ;" which last I had, strangely to the book, direct and indirect, are great. Cerenough, happened to read first in Spanish: tainly, it never crossed my mind, when I made its “ Rosamund Gray” I had read by stealth in illness, acquaintance, that it would be ever mine to write liding it under my pillow and producing a Cowper a word about its author. when any one was present (very naughty of me)! I may be allowed to add that, notwithstanding However, having eyes and a memory, I was aware my feeling that Mr. Rochester's expressions of the success of “Jane Eyre,” just as I was of were occasionally broader than necessary, it never the current of theatrical matters, though I had for a moment crossed my mind that “Jane Eyre” never entered a theatre. "Jane Eyre,” by Currer could be, or could ever be, deemed a mischievous Bell

, stood out in my thoughts as the novel of the book. I am quite sure that my tastes in the day, and I felt a desire to break the ice with direction in which the mischief of the story is (I regard to fiction, and to break it at that point. believe) supposed by the slow-minded and weakBeing again unwell, I sent to a circulating hearted to lie, were quite exceptionably fastidious, library, for the first time in my life; the book i and that they took offence at nothing it contained. sent for was " Jane Eyre," and it was read to mp, 1 Years after, I was infinitely aniused at an inscrip.

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tion in pencil, 'in a strong legal hand, which I themselves receiving such importance ; but thought it might found in the title-page of the copy of "Shirley,"

make one on Recent Novels." which I borrowed from Mudie's :-"Calculated to As things go, this concession was kindness on do young persons a greal deal of injury--all such Mr. Parker's part. The writer of these lines has (sic) persons should be transported for writing such been repeatedly refused leave to review books trash." These are the terms in which I now which pleased him, even when he offered the reviews often characterise to my friends any very powerful for the mere pleasure of writing them, on account and truth.like work; if a book is better than of the " obscurity" of the authors. It certainly usual, and I am asked my opinion of it, I say, seems to me that whatever policy business exi“it is calculated to do young persons a great deal gencies may force upon second-rate newspapers of injury-all such persons should be transported and reviews, journals of the stamp of Fraser for writing such trash."

should be glad to seize opportunities of breaking in There are certain moral phenomena which, live upon the vulgar routine in this matter. The as long as one may, one can never hope altogether more so, because the work to be done in “ bestow. to "stomach ;" and the existence of this class of ing enlightenment upon circulating library readers" moral censors is one of them. When “Ruth" is so enormous. " Bestow enlightenment,” inappeared, the Leader mentioned in its Literature deed! The whole tone of feeling and thinking that a librarian had received back a copy half cut of the masses must be slowly modified by circumfrom one of bis subscribers, who requested that no stances and influences of all sorts and sizes; their more books, so unfit for family reading, might be misappreciations bottom as much in what is sent to him !

morally as in what is intellectually bad. With tenCurious indices of popular taste are facts like derer hearts and keerer consciences they would these. In the correspondence of Charlotte Brontë turn loathingly from the vacuity of the popular with Mr. G. H. Lewes, published in Mrs. Gaskell's story books. Meanwhile, the light is breaking volumes, we get a very instructive passage con

over the cloud-lands of inanity and melodrama ; cerning the popular love of “piled-up agony" in and thanks are due, first, to high class story. plot, and that sort of splashy writing which with tellers, who create the taste they are to supply; vulgar writers goes for “ power.” Mr. Lewes had and secondly, to capable critics, who, in the exerhinted some friendly counsels against “melodrama" cise of the pleasantest part of a critic's dutyin any future work. Charlotte replies :

exposition--teach the crowd to analyse, to know Yon warn me to beware of melodrama, and you exhort bands á touchstone which they may carry about

why they like a good book, and so put into their me to adhere to the real. When I first began to write, so impressed was I with the principles you advocate, that I for application in less obvious and commanding determined to take Nature and Truth as my sole guides, and instances of merit than “ Jane Eyre" and "Mary to follow in their very footprints; I restrained imagination, Barton." eschewed romance, repressed excitement; over bright colour- No doubt the great defect of the crowd of ing, too, I avoided, and sought to produce something which critics is lack of insight; but some amends would should be sost, grave, and true. My work, a tale in one volume, being completed, I offered it to a publisher. He be made for this, if they would take honest pains,* said it was original, faithful to nature, but he did not feel and not be so ready to throw aside any book that warranted in accepting it; such a work would not sell. I does not hit their fancy at a glance. The history tried six publishers in succession ; they all told me it was deficient in “ startling incident," and "thrilling excitement," deeply saddening. The appreciation of the world

of Emily Brontë's "Wuthering Heights," is to me --that it would never suit the circulating libraries, and as it was on these libraries the success of works of fiction without did much to improve Charlotte Brontë; mainly depended, they could not undertake to publish what it might have done something to soften Emily. would be overlooked there. “Jane Eyre” was rather ob- But it did not come. “Critics failed to do jusjected to at first on the same grounds, but finally found ac- tice to the real but immature power displayed in ceptance. I mention this to you, not with a view of pleading Wuthering Heights,' and Emily died before tion to the root of certain literary evils. If, in your forth Sydney Dobell came to the rescue in the 'Pallacoming article in Fraser, you would bestow a few words of dium'" (what was the “Palladium"? and how enlightenment on the public who support the circulating came it to drop ? Why do not the originators libraries, you might, with your powers, do some good.

try again now ?). It was not till June, 1855, that This is a striking passage. I do not know what Mr. Lewes wrote in Fraser, for at that time * While I write, I get a newspaper in which it is said I never saw a magazine; but I am bold to say that “ Mrs. Gaskell is entitled to more than ordinary praise that the labour of able and conscientious critics for the admirable manner in which she has worked ap such

slender materials into so interesting a biography." How is slowly influencing the public mind in this very flattered Mrs. Gaskell must feel on learning that she departicular. They might do much more good if they serves more than ordinary praise !" Especially when she were bolder. Mr. Lewes says:

learns it from a writer who calls her materials " slender, **

and speaks of her " working them up" into an "interesting When “ Jane Eyre” first appeared, the publishers courte- book! All things considered, the materials were extraordiously sent me a copy. The enthusiasm with which I read narily full, though evidently gathered with pains; and never it, made me go down to Mr. Parker, and propose to write a was a book less “worked up" than this. It is the simplest, review of it for Fraser's Magazine. He would not consent most unadorned, most consecutive, most homely of lifeto an unknoron novelfor the papers had not yet declared | stories,

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CHAPTER THE FIRST.

I read “Wuthering Heights,” and I then formed

THE SECRET. the opinion which I still retain, that it displayed more dramatic power than Charlotte's novels

. A dead silence had reigned in the Home Oilice of VerdoCharlotte had more of the analytic power which polis for three hours on the morning of a fine summer's Mrs. Gaskell calls the “ handmaid of genius ;” but day, interrupted only by such sounds as the scraping of a Emily, with a faculty of slower, less self-conscious, penknife, the dropping of a ruler, or an occcasional cough,

or, whispered now and then, some brief mandate, uttered by less amenable growth, held, it seeins to me, a

the noble first secretary, in his commanding tones. At stronger pen than her sister. And, while she length, that sublime personage, after completing some score lived, the only recognition of anything of the kind or so of despatches, addressing a small, slightly-built young was one discerning word in the Atheneum about gentleman who occupied the chief position among the her Poems!

clerks, said, " Mr. Rylmer, will you be good enough to tell

me what o'clock it is po Mrs. Gaskell introduces, on page 97, of Vol. I., prompt reply, as, springing from his seat," the ready under

“Certainly, my lord,” was the a poem from Charlotte's MSS., of which she ling, instead of consulting his watch like other people, hassays, “it must have been written before 1833, tened to the window to mark the sun's situation. Having but how much earlier there are no means of de- made his observations, he answered, “'Tis twelve pretermining.". I cannot forbear saying that this cisely, my lord.” “Very well,” said the Marquis, “ you may

all give up then; and see that all your desks are locked, poem falls familiarly on my own ear. Can Char

and that not a scrap of paper is left to litter the office. Mr. lotte ever have printed it? One of Anne's poems Rylmer, I shall expect you to take care that my directions seems to have appeared in Chambers's Journal. are fulfilled.” So saying, he assumed his hat and gloves, My impression of having seen the verses before is and, with a stately tread, was approaching the vestibule,

when a slight bustle and whispering among the clerks arso strong that I shall copy them here, for the sake of the chance that any of my readers may have round, " I hope those are not sounds of contention I hear.”

rested his steps. "What is the matter ?” asked he turning seen them too, and may be glad to recognise them “ No," said a broad, carrotty.locked young man, of pugnain this connection:

cious aspect—" but-but--your lordship has forgotten that —that”

“ That what p” asked the Marquis, rather imTHE WOUNDED STAG.

patiently. “Oh, merely that this afternoon is a half. Passing amid the deepest shade

holiday, -and-and—” “I understand,” replied his sopc. Of the wood's sombre heart,

rior, smiling; you need not task your modesty with further Last vight I saw a wounded deer,

explanation, Flannagan; I suppose the truth is you want Laid lonely and apart.

your usual largess—I am obliged to you for reminding me

—will that do ?” he continued, as opening lis pocket-book, Such light as pierced the crowded boughs,

he took out a twenty pound bank bill, and laid it on the (Light scattered, seant, and dim,)

nearest desk. “My lord, you are too generous," Flannagan Passed through the fern that formed his couch (word illegible) bat the Chief Secretary laughingly laid his And centred full on him.

gloved hand on his lip, and with a condescending nod to the Pain trembled in his weary limbs,

other clerks, sprang down the steps of the portico, and Pain filled his patient eye,

strode hastily away, in order to escape the noisy expressions Pain-crushed amid the shadowy fern,

of gratitude which now hailed his liberality. On the His branchy crown did lie.

opposite side of the long and wide street to that on which

the splendid Home Office stands rises the no less splendid Where were his comrades? where liis mate? Colonial Office, and just as Arthur Marquis of Douro* lest All from his death-bed gone!

the former structure, Edward Stanley Sydney departed from And he, thus struck and desolate,

the latter. They met in the centre of the street. “Well, Suffered and bled alone.

Ned,” said my brother, as they shook hands--" how are you Did he feel what a man might feel,

to-day? I should think this bright sun and sky ought to Friendless and sore distrest?

enliven you, if anything can.” • Why my dear Douro," Did pain's keen dart, and grief's sharp sting,

replied Mr. Sydney, with a faint smile, “such lovely and Strive in his mangled breast ?

genial weather may, and I have no duubt does, elevate the

spirits of the free and healthy; but for me, whose mind and Did longing for affection lost

body are a continual prey to all the heaviest cares of public Barb every deadly dart ?

and private life, it signifies little whether suu cheer or rain Love unrepaid, and Faith betrayed,

damp the atmosphere.” " Fudge !” replied Arthur, his fea. Did these torment his heart?

tares at the same time assuming that disagreeable expression No! leave to man his proper doom !

which my landlord denominates by the term “scoruey,”These are the pangs that rise

“Now, don't begin to bore me, Ned, with trash of that Around the bed of state and gloom,

description. I'm tired of it, quite. Pray, have you recol. Where Adam's offspring dics !

lected that this is a half-holiday in all departments of the Before I close the gossip in which I have in

Treasury ?” “Yes, and the circumstance has cost me some

money : these silly old customs ought to be abolished in my dulged myself about Charlotte Bronti, I propose opinion ; they are ruinous.” “Why, what have you given to supplement for my readers all the reviews they the poor fellows P" “ Two sovereigos." An emphatic may have read of Mrs. Gaskell's book-- most pro

"hem" formed Arthur's reply to this communication. They bably all, I mean.

had now entered Hotel-street, and were proceeding in silence A fac-simile page is given in Vol. I., from “The Secret,” one of Charlotte's sound of wheels was heard behind them, and a smooth-roll

pastthe line of magnificent shops which it contains, when the very juvenile novels, written, says Mis. Gaskell, ing chariot dashed up and stopped just where they stood. in a hand which it is almost impossible to decipher One of the window.glasses now fell; a white hand was put without the aid of a maguifying glass.” Well, I out, and beckoned them to draw near, while a silvery voice Jave interested myself in deciphering it, and pre

* Wellington is Charlotte's piece de resistance in all her jure. sent the result as a literary curiosity:

nile stories : she utterly uses him up.

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“ What are your not necd.

said _"Mr. Sydney! Marquis of Douro ! come hitler a mo- for wanting the earrings," these are quite different" ment.”. Both the gentlemen obeyed the summons - Arthur --precisely a lady's reason for buying what she does wijlı alacrity, and Sydney with reluctance. commands, fair lady p” said the former, bowing respectfully

Bnt I think, after a quiet smile at to the inmates of the carriage, who were Lady Julia Sydney, this wonderful child's conception of the Treasury and Lady Maria Sneaky. “Our commands are principally Office, secretary, and clerks, and the manner of for your companion, my lord, not for you,” replied thc daugh- “ the quality," we may recognise something of ter of Alexander the First. “Now, Mr. Sydney," she con

Currer Bell in this page. The opening—“A dead tinued, smiling on the Senator, “ you must promise not to be silence had reigned, &c.”—is very like her trick disobedient." quired to perform,” was the cautious answer, accompanied of opening a story or a poem; the epithets, by a fearful glance at the shops around. “ Nothing of much though commonplace, are not sprinkled in anyhow, consequence, Edward,” said his wife," but I hope you'll not but set in their place; and last, not least, there resusc to oblige me this once, love; I only want a few is the rough strength of language, which some guineas to enable me to make out the price of a pair of readers of « Jane Eyre” and its successors find carrings I have just scen in Mr. Lapis's shop.” “Not a bit of it," answered he, "and not a farthing will I give you ;

unpleasing Sidney is “a stingy little monkey," it is scarce three weeks since you received your quarter's and Flannagan is “carrotty-locked,” and the allowance, and if that is done (gone?) already, you may Marquis of Douro is unconventionally frank in his suffer for it.” With this decisive reply

, he instinctively jocosity about a Turkish institution. There is, thrust liis hand into liis brecches pockets and marched off with a hurried step. “Stingy little monkey!" exclaimed surely, an extreme interest in these efforts of i Lady Julia, sinking back on the carriage scat, while the bright secluded girl to realise for berself the outer world. Alush of anger and disappointment crimsoned her fuir cheek, Afterwards, we learn how she longed to travel

, to "this is the way he always treats me; but I'll make him see that wide, wide, and wonderful world, to snffer for it." “Do not discompuse yourself so much, my multiply her experiences of lise.

It is almost dear,” said her companion—"my parse is at your service, if you will accept it.” “I am sensible of your goodness, Maria,

always som bul, of course I shall not take advantage of it. No, no; I

Ein wandernd Leben can do without the earings--it is only a fancy; though to

Gefällt der freien Dichter brustbe sure I would rather have them.” “My pretty cousin," observed the Marquis, who till now had remained a quiet but partly freak bealth, and partly duty, narrowed though much amused spectator of the whole scene, " you are certainly one of the most extravagant young ladies I know.

the round in which Charlotte Brontë lived, and Why what on carth can you possibly want with these what she gave us she had to "make out," as her trinkets to my knowledge, you have had at least a dozen schoolfellows said, from what lay within that round. different sets of ear-ornaments.” “That is true, but then How much she gave us, another generation will these are quite of another kind, and so pretty and unique better measure. But a quick eye may frequently that I conld not help whishing (sic) for them.” aince your heart is so much set upon the trinkets, I will sce find traces of her influence upon the literature of whether my purse can compass their price, if you will allow the day. If “Ruth" and Jane Eyre" had not me to accompany you to Mr. Lapis's.” “O thank you. both been written, we should have had a great Arthur! you are very kind,” said Lady Jalia, and both the poem from Mrs. Browning, but “ Aurora Leigli" endios quickly made room for him as he sprang in and would not have been what it is. seated himself between them. “I think,” said Maria Sneaky who had a touch of the romp about lier, “ I think when I

I bave not yet done with the author of “ Jane marry I'll have just such a husvand 'as yon my Lord Eyre.” Meanwhile, Mrs. Gaskell's memoirs of ber Marquis, one who won't deny me a pretty toy when I desire friend suggest two serious varnings. 1st. Let to possess it.” “Will you P” said Arthur, “I really think novel-readers see the risks they run io encouraging the Turks are more sensible people than ourselves." In a melodrama and splash ; they nearly missed “Jane few minutes they reached the jeweller's slop, Mr. Lapis received them with an obeseginous (sic) bow and proceeded to Eyre;”. how many good books may they get miss display liis glittering stores. The pendants which had so by forcing publishers to measure Mss. by a false fascinated Lady Julia rere in the form of two brilliant hum. standard ? 2ndly. Let wrong.deers see the risks ining birds whose jewelled plumage equalled if not surpassed they run! There are two pilloried in Mrs. Gaskell's the bright hues of nature. Whilst she was con pleting hier volumes, over and above those who, already expurchase a customer of a different calibre entered; this was a tall woman, attired in a rather faded silk dress, a large black posed in "Jane Eyre,” are now exposed afreshbonnet, and a double veil of black lace, which, as she lifted a very bad woman and a sellish and negligent it on entering the shop, discovered a countenance which publisher. Everybody knows who the publisher apparently had witnessed the vicissitudes of between thirty is; the woman cannot long hide her shame. and forty summers.

One word more :-- the book, on the whole, This is certainly very curious writing, and truly shows literature and literary men and women in feminine,—not only in the lack of punctuation pleasing lights, and one trembles for its conse(which I bare supplicd in copying), but in the quences, (in the shape of packets of MS.) to such tone and treatment; eg., in the contempt for generous publishers as Messrs. Smitli, Elder, stinginess, and in the reason put into Julia's mouth and Co.

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