764 no passage in winter. LITERARY REGISTER. has yet been made over the mountains | two parties have any alliances, or any common ground for them. To the Mormons the battle would be bad news, for it would check their communications. To all parties there is evidently trouble in the West. The plains of Utah are more hospitable than the mountain ranges; and while the inhabitants are encircled by snow they enjoy a milder temperature in their vallies-not absolutely mild but tolerable. Another, and a sadder, rumour has been telegraphed. It is said that five hundred men of the States army had been attacked, and all slain by a swarm of Indians. The existence of hostile feel. ing among the Indians to the passage of huge bodies of men through land which they consider as exclusively their own, is notorious, and has been understood for several years. They are numerous in the southern borders, and have destroyed detached parties of the United States' armies on the frontiers, and even in the unsettled regions of Texas; but it was not supposed that they had numbers or organization capable of beating and obliterating from existence five hundred armed and trained men. Some people suppose that the Indians engaged in this fight were Mormons, in disguise, or Indians led by and mixed with Mormons; but it does not appear that the THE INDIAN RELIEF FUND. The late Lord Mayor (Finnis) has published an interim report of the state of this fund, from which it appears that the advertised amount is £280,749 5s. 84d. The absolute remittances to India have been hitherto Relief in this country Expenses to date Balance ... ... ... ... £ 3. d. 54,477 13 9 ... ... 2,878 9 7 ... ... ... ... 3,775 14 3 219,617 8 1 ... £280,749 5 82 A proportion of the balance or £34,271 7s. 5 d. has not yet been remitted to London. A number of subscriptions remain to be reported, which will bring the amount to from three hundred thousand, to three hundred and fifty thousand pounds. LITERARY Almost; or, Crooked Ways. By the Author of The plot is well drawn, well conceived, and up Now this is the very perfection of mystification, on the old principle that the only way to keep a secret is not to let it be known that there is a secret to keep. Everything seemed to be made so plain, so clear, that we never suspected a secret, yet we found one, and a most important one, too; and one, moreover, on which the whole working of the tale turned. The moral of the story is excellent, and in this way :-Floreen, the heroine, a person utterly devoid of all religious principle or kindly human feeling, is not, as is too often the case in works of fiction, exalted into an idol for our worship, but is a powerful character, rendered REGISTER. weak by vice. We admire the little, gentle, unsophisticated Hilda ten times as much as the ungentle, clever Floreen, and we are glad when the former reaps the reward of her guileless life, and the latter is visited with the punishment she so well deserves. It is one great merit of this work that Floreen is made an interesting, without being a fascinating, character; that she is in the position of a heroine without having one true element of heroism in her. Some of the writers of the present day would do well to imitate Miss Lisle in this particular; vice is but too often placed in an attractive light, and held up to the young as a luring example for imitation. There are numberless just and valuable thoughts expressed in this volume, as the following extracts will show. In speaking of those who are among the labourers of life, the authoress says: I think a man, who, by honourable labour (mind, I say, honourable, such as is free from the petty tricks and shuffling which too often disgrace mercantile transactions, and, therefore, cause them to be despised), raises himself from poverty to competence, is often more really worthy of esteem than the brilliant statesman, or the distinguished general. The latter often think more of self-aggrandisement than of their country's cause, and frequently accomplish their reputation by one brilliant and successful effort. The former must exercise much patience, much self-denial, much thought; may have to submit to the caprice and injustice of those above him; may be misunderstood, and his efforts little appreciated, or even condemned; his inexperience meets with little consideration; no excuse is made for errors and We hope there are not many Mrs. Grimshawes and omissions, inseparable, from that want of experience; in the world, but we fear there are a few, and in through all this he must steadily keep in mind the goal that is before him; he must not heed the rugged path if it lead justice both to them and to their amiable prototype, we subjoin a few more of her words. to his journey's end! The truth of this opinion is more plainly recognised in society each day. Again, in reference to a higher subject, the punishment of evil men in this life. How often do we see that falsehood, treachery, envy, and other evil qualities, meet their deserts in this world! I will not cite instances from history; but I will ask you all, whether you cannot individually call to mind some case or other, where evil conduct has met its punishment? Is not the upright man loved and respected by his fellowmen? He may be poor in this world's goods, but he is rich in the love and confidence of his brethren. Is not the envious man sure to betray himself sooner or later, and to be shunned? Is not the untruthful man despised? and the fraudulent tradesman, though his conduct may for a while seem to increase his wealth, is he not sure in the end to be discovered ? We might profitably extend this extract did our space permit, but we turn to a lighter theme. The authoress seems to set her face against the false sentiment so prevalent among the young people of the world, and to have a just appreciation of those "never to be forgotten" attachments, of which we hear, and without meeting many people who confess to have entertained them, read so much. In speaking of them, Miss Lisle says:— People like to talk of irrevocable attachments, love, broken hearts, &c.; but I believe that in the great majority of cases, these love lorn young ladies and gentlemen are either very young or very silly, and that their "irrevocable attachments" are mere delusions, with which the heart has nothing whatever to do. He, or she, who cannot conquer a predilection, when it proceeds from any cause unreasonable or injurious, is but a weak, maudlin sentimentalist, not a hero or heroine of romance. I grant that when two people, whose affection is founded on perfect esteem and respect, are separated by adverse circumstances, their attachment may endure for even a lifetime; but such cases are not of every day occurrence. If writers bore the truth more generally in mind, there would be less sentimental rubbish written, and fewer love sick heroines held up as an injurious example to the young. But while we mention so much that is good and excellent, we must not forget something which is not altogether good and excellent, yet perhaps quite a true portraiture of people who may be met with, but which nevertheless is quite worthy of notice. And this something is a certain Mrs. Grimshawe, a hard, ascetic, old woman, the entire business of whose charitable life seems to be, finding fault with the whole world, and bullying her unfortunate "humble companion," a poor and friendless relation, chosen in consequence of her poverty and friendless position, not because these entitle her to kindness and sympathy, but, to use Mrs. Grimshawe's own argument, because She's an orphan, and hasn't any relations, as my other companions had; so I shan't be worried by eternal complaints from her family, and shan't lose her just as she's getting into my ways. Having, for the reasons already set forth, secured the services of the unfortunate com panion," she is now supposed to be addressing her. The companion has dared to argue against some contemplated purpose the old lady has seen fit to announce. The repulse for this unheard of insubordination comes quickly and harshly, "Hold your tongue!" she says. "I hire you not to preach to me, but to be my attendantBut you interrupted me in what I was saying. I have made you acquainted with my first reason for calling on her magnificent ladyship; my second and stronger one is, that I see you have some motive for wishing me not to go! You are so selfish! Now, I hate selfishness, and am determined to check it in you; therefore, you shall go!" But as the story progresses, in following the path of this amiable being, we find that her victim has obtained her emancipation, and that her place is supplied by one who proves in turn a tyrant to the tyrant ! The new companion is described as a tall and muscular widow of forty, strong-minded, selfwilled, and acidulated; perfectly indifferent as to Mrs. Grimshawe's good or ill will, and with not a single vulnerable feeling. Consequently, before long the tables were turned, and the new companion ruled her employer with such an iron sway, that the desponding old Grim often secretly lamented the departure of the lamented Mary Grahame. And Mrs. Nubling would not be discharged; for, when Mrs. Grimshawe, in a moment of desperation, ventured to insinuate that she thought their tempers were semewhat incompatible, and that they had better part, the tormentor sharply interrupted, "Nonsense, ma'am ! Our tempers couldn't suit better! We are both of us sour enough, and should worry the very soul out of any one else. I mean to stay!" with which logical deduction we conclude our extracts book, as we think we have proved by the extracts, may with safety be placed in the hands of the young, to whom it can do no possible harm, but much good by occupying many an hour, both hospitably and agreeably; and those of more mature years, who like scenes of vivid incident, will derive much pleasure from, and be amply repaid by the perusal of "Almost." This life; exposes the petty sins-those which are looked on as scarcely sins-and the issue of such. For instance, in speaking of education, she says, in reference to an imaginary "Miss Emily and Miss Caroline": Their papa is a Government clerk, or a banker's cashier, or something or other, whose tastes are sure to exceed his income. This is presuming a little too much; the exemplification would have stood as well without the sure to exceed." Perhaps that income averages five hundred a year. Are these girls brought up to do anything, but knock about a semi-grand of Collard's in a manner painful to hear ? or waste untold ounces of Berlin wool and crochet cotton in endless repetitions of useless fripperies? or in reading the worst of milk-and-water novels ? And then she supposes that, in consequence of the "sure to exceed," these girls are thrown on the world, and have to provide for themselves; and she points out the evils they perpetrate, by the evils of their own training. She says: And thus it is that half-educated-half, or only a quarteraccomplished-helpless or supine-they engage, as teachers' to girls, younger than themselves, and give the same dawdling lessons in life, with which their mothers and governesses have furnished them. bonum marriage, or else-to gratify the tastes of those who love "something deep"-in untimely death, or unavailing destroying. and inenergetic regrets. Now this is perfectly true. Many of the novel writers of the present day seem to think it isg grand thing for a young creature just enteri life to fall in love with some worthless scapegrac and refusing (in defiance of common sense) all belief in his worthlessness, cling to him perseveringly for life. Then, they get themselves into what may elegantly be termed a "hobble." Perhaps they don't wish to reform the scapegrace; for the sake of their plot they must preserve "their William." They can't spare him, neither can they give their heroine to him, nor will they let her marry any one else; that would destroy her, "beautiful fidelity." They have nothing to do with her but just kill her; so off she goes, either by some violent death, or by the slow torture of consumption. Against all this class of writing, the "Woman's preaching "very justly raises its voice. And she also speaks of the false sentiment which such works are likely to produce, and contrasts that false sentiment with the absence of real feeling which but too often exists among women. "Is there not," she says, "enough of hunger, misery, ill-paid work, precious lives, daily, hourly fading away, And she speaks of such women, in a married position, and urges, very truly, that they can be unsustained by mental or bodily nourishment, for you to expected to prove neither valuable wives nor useful mothers. We know (she adds) how the sons of good mothers become great men. Can you wonder that, with so many weak mothers, we have so many bad men ? But although we agree with, and admire, a great many of the precepts of this work, there are some of its pages of which we do not approve. For instance, with regard to "Modern reading," speaking of some of the literary works of the day, she says: Some years since, the mildest of these productions would have been infallibly put down by the Society for the Suppression of Vice; and the scenes depicted in works, which our young girls read openly aud unrestrained, only professed libertines, and men of the lowest taste, would have glanced at. Now this is going a little too far. Such works as she describes are never, we hope and believe, found in the houses of the decently-educated or commonly well-principled among us; and to such, we imagine, she addresses herself. But while we disapprove thus far, there are a few lines in this chapter which we think too truthful and excellent to be passed over. In speaking of some of the plots of the works of fiction of the present period, she says: We find girls dying for men, who, according to their own portraitures, are either quite unworthy of a pure-minded woman's love, or perfectly indifferent to the fair lady, both of which cases, in my opinion, are totally incompatible with female delicacy; and such extreme physical fragility is usually depicted, that one of these novel heroines, must inevitably be perfectly destitute of health, mental or bodily, and these pictures end universally in woman's summum sorrow over ? Why you, who can weep rivers of tears over love-sick griefs, and caricatured distresses, will often listen coldly enough to the tale of real woe, of vulgar, every-day want, which may chance to greet your unwilling ears. You, who sit with reddened eyes over Sorrows in High Life,' will often deny the least of your own earnings, or the smallest self-sacrifice, to assuage a sister's misery. If such as you were to be implored, in the dusk of evening, by some famishing heart-broken wretch, for a trifle of money to save her from that night's sin-how deeply loathed by that poor creature, oh! may you never know!-would you not shrink from her in horror of contamination, instead of turning round, speaking a few words of womanly pity, soothing her despair, or administering to her physical wants." We fear there is too much truth in these words. But we have now extracted enough to give a fair notion of the general style and tenour of the work. There is nothing very new or original in it. The home truths inculcated have been stated over and over again. The errors pointed out are such as the heart of every well-disposed woman would teach her to avoid; still, human beings need to have these things constantly set before them; therefore, as we said before, there is value and utility in the present little work. It is written, too, in a pleasant off-hand style, which amuses while it teaches. Taken as a whole, it is a little book which may do much good, and this thought should make us leuient to a few of the errors which its pages contain. One more remark. Under the head of dress, we find the attire of the working women of England contrasted with that of the grisettes of Paris, to the disadvantage of the former, who are stig. matized as "dirty on week days-on Sundays LITERARY REGISTER. tawdry." Now, in the simple particular of external So much for the little work in question-a work which is better than its title would imply. We do not admire that title, for we hold that, generally speaking, nothing can be more vapid and uninteresting than "a woman's preachings." Normiton: 767 The Autumn wind swept through the woodland bowers The little bird said, "In my safe, warm cage," We prefer many of the miscellaneous pieces to a Dramatic Poem. By MARY C. the principal tale-but that originates probably in HUME. London: J. W. Parker and Son. WE do not greatly like dramatic poems. People : A little bird dwelt in a close-barred cage, (Oh me, how dreary a cage must be!) Sang patient there as a prisoned sage; The summer time came to the birds and flowers, The bird flew off to the woods afar; (And oh! the greensward is fair to see!) The little bird sang through the live-long day, the former being made the vehicle of subtle argu- The Crystal Palace is the subject, and wide Upon the sleeping city's lamp-starred streets Yet the steam-whistle, startling, still anon Of man's strong restless spirit, toiling now But power Divine, in measured steps pass by, "If God keep not the city, watchman's eye Upon my brow the country-perfumed breeze, And the low wailing, town imprisoned trees And now by slow degrees the cool grey dawn Till as by magic, meteor-like withdrawn, Poems and Lyrics. By ROBERT W. BUCHANNAN. | London Lyrics. By FREDERICK Locker. We have looked over Mr. Buchannan's pages with a conviction that he will write something superior to anything there one day. The idea conveyed by them is, that the writer thinks better than he composes in the meantime, and then a lyric, or part of a poem, turns up where the thought is wedded to beautiful words. We regret after looking at them again, that the subjoined verses are exceptional, that is to say-unlike the volume from which they are taken. A little trouble would have improved them. "To be suckled in Heaven" is absurdly, if not profanely, shocking; and Earth is never Hell, although very like it sometimes. Here hope dwells. The midnight stifles the busy hum, The stingfull crowd flock to sleep like wasps! Who the sad tumult of rains may quell? High in a garret morn it breaks, High in a garret a balsam is given; But who may the tears of the mother quell? "A grave!" but a tear can affection pay- High in a garret the spiders spin; High in a garret the rafters rot. The death-watch croaks till the heart it leaps- "Hell it is Earth, and Earth 'tis Hell." Lon don: Chapman and Hall. Pp. 30. Susannah! still that name can raise And hearts unstrung: When all too bright our future smil'd, I see the cot with spreading eaves The gables quaint, the pansy bed,- A seat did most blithe Susan please, Of rustic make: Her gleeful tones and laughter gay And trouble fled: Yet when her mirth was passing wild, Perchance the old man harbour'd fears On this poor earth: Or else, may be, his fancies were The end, as often happens in London lives and lyrics, is not like the beginning. The flowers bloomed, then they were plucked, trampled, withered. So we gather from the few remaining verses. Those which we have quoted are fair specimens of the style; generally natural, now and then a little sarcastic, and under all a vein of pure thought. |