Norwalk Gazette, Tuesday, September 6, 1825 · page 4

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Ve have been so rniich , iutéf8"5l¢d and ,3‘

 

1, ‘53-.31", _';iftj*r'-,'l_i‘3‘ whibii alppeaired in the ?

°t'lm's'tign .S‘_pecita'tor-"in" Februaty ‘last. p_urp'oit-
fog to be a _Revie'w..of's‘p’ni'e of the are A'fner-
icau iv-overs, that ti"rL-i‘s._liali,’witli‘out ‘furtbe’r_ cer-
‘ernony, and tv'it’rro't'st asking the pardon ‘of our
’r‘e‘itler's,'la.y ft‘-before them ‘entire... . -

 léflol -‘;, "'I‘al'c.'of tlfé ‘Sea. ‘fife Au.
, t'|io'r ofthe Spy, 2 vols.
isaraibg-a; A Tale of me itevorrriitsn. _
The Sp’ecfr'e ‘of the Forest, ‘or Atinals of the
_ _ Hqirsatohio, ‘a New-.En'gla'nd Romance.

:'-The Witch Q/'.=Jl/‘cw-Eirglaizd ,- A Roman‘c’e.
.'Hobo1i'mi: ; A Tale or Early Tinies. 

-.71 Peréi at the Pitgfinisrtn it$'6. A Tale of
-_ ‘\-.O]‘,d'en, ';t_‘i‘rn_es. By the _AlJlll0t‘ of divers

triifiiiislied i*n'a‘n'uscripts, btc.

_ ._\V‘e'Vwrite this review for the special use and
benefit oftwo la'rg‘e ‘classes oflruman kind;-—
fiovél~ ‘r'ead'ers and novel-writers. And though
‘we ‘iiayle sore misgivings that neitlier the one
not the other will be disposed to read, ‘much
less to- regard the opinions of so grave and
puritanical a personage 3! We are; We 8'8
nevertheless derermirred to offer our seiiti-
rireiils, premising certain reasons why we
‘deem them not unworthy ofattentlon.

, Vvith a great partof these. two branches of
the hurnan race, it is, we doubt not, a preva
l_ent impression, that the writers Of the Chris-

'/

I,des'criptiolr'i. ‘, ... t. . : , _, _ -;

; In respe‘i:'t't'o d'eli’r't'eation of clia’ra'ct_er»"aiid
-;ktr'otvlei:l~g‘t3: of liiima'r‘i 'rraftir'e_ he is 'eii,title“d- to
eqttél praise. ,'i‘lirotighoi'i't hi_s"vo‘lunie we y
gsce a masterly a'ufaly’s’is "or the ihunian mind in

rquaintaiice _ ‘whit its springs of acti‘_oh.,_ ‘His
’7pers'o‘nages are notinerely 't'h'e'be'r'oe's ‘and he-
:rjroirie‘s, the ‘robbers and p’easa'nt's_'of a hovel-
-they ‘are for ‘the most ‘part, human beings ;-
.aii'rl in all the di'yersiti'es of character which
they pr‘eseii't, rliigirlarrder and lowlaiider, noble
{and vassal, crusading knight and covenanting
}wliig, they exliibit the passions and affections
ofmen. They lfve ahd ‘more before us '; their
names b"e'coi'ne . « f

‘ Farnilinr iii ’o'tir "months as household \‘v'o‘rds ;’
for we feel that they are kindred to ourselves.
"And all, because their individual peculiarities
are consistent with the laws ofhiiniau nature.

which it were foreign from our purpose to spe-
.cify. Characters of irnmaculat'e goodness,
-and of unmingled and gratuitous wickedness,
:are ‘equally remote frotti probability. \Ve
know that such characters are abundant in
lficiion, buthdo we meet them in the world of
.ieality? No, Calviriists as we are called,_and
orthodox as we claim "to be, we ever expect to
find alike, lilemislies on the fairest, and bright
spots ‘on the darkest specimens ofour nature.
There are in man‘ certain social affections
which are rarely, if ever, eradicated. There
are sonic principles of comparative lovelines.~

._.mn spectator are, without exception, an as-_ which spring up within him, mre ivy and wild

sociation ofl'ean,har'ri-favored gentlemen,wlio
ha.'v‘e'ne'ver felt ‘one emotion softer or gentler
than the zeal of controversy, who have never
read any thing btit the Bible and the treatises
of orthodox divincs, wlro have never aspired
to the composition of any thing more tasteful
"tlia n a seitiion or a theological disquisiiion,
"anti whose opinions on matters of taste and
polite literature are therefore utterly to be
t_:onternned.m In opposition t'o this prejudice,
we beg leave to say, that we ‘who guide the
pen on this occasiori-'-lean though we may be,
and hard favoured, and witlial somewhat ad-
dicted to reading the Bible, and somewhat
interested in the questions that lay hold upon
"etc-riiity-—frat'e read more tales and romances
than the author of \\'averly will ever write;
have rambled through the groves by moon-
light; have inditcd lngubrious ditties and btirn-
ing ballads ; and furherniore have been the
writers oftlivers unfinished manuscripts qtiite
as edifying, we dare say, as those of the geri-
neman who comes before the ptrblic in a mot-
_le.y coat to give them a peep at the Pilgrims.

, ‘These thir;gs,it is true,were among the freaks

of our by gone days; but we say that those
who have been guilty of such freaks are not
to be disregarded as if they were too phleg-
rnalicin their constitutiori to have any fellow-
feeling with the heroes, or any admiration for
tlieberoinesoffiction.

Another reason why we ask the attention
oftlrese two classes is, we do not design in
the present article to enter into a discussion
of the usefulness or lawfulness of novels in
'genei'al. To otir ordinary readers such a dis-
_cussion would be for the most part unnecessa-
ry ; am] with the extraordinary readers it-hon:
ire are seeking for once to gratify, it would
ilotibtlrss break off all negotiation in a mo-
ment. Omitting therefore to calculate the
value of the time which is devoted to the corri-
position anti peritsal of novels, or to estimate
the correctness of the views which they ordi-
narily-—not to" say necessarily—-give tis ofliii-.
than life and its great business, or to analyze
the feelings which they are designed to char
ish; we shall proceed directly to remark on
the works whose titles stand in so formidable
array at the head ofthis article.

The most remarkable general characteris-
tic ofthese works is their common relation t.o
the "Waverly Novcls—a relation verv riiuch
the same with that which “ Rogers’ Columbi-
an Coffee” bears to the real Java. Or to

. speak rriore correctly, and with more discrim-

ination, they all sustain to their great model
the relation ofresenrblance; &L if, in the. most
successful of these efforts, the degree of re-
semblance maybe set forth by thecorrrparisoo
just made, the value of the otliers may be il-
lustrated by comparing them, in their respec-
tive degrees ofii=erit,witli “ pea-coffee,” “ pn-
tato-coffee,” “ rye~coffee,” and whatever oth-
er “ counterfeit preseiitrnent” of coffee may
be still more despicable.

This ccmnvon resrniblance of the works
before us to the Waverly Novels, makes it
proper for tis to signify with some degree of
cxplicilness our opinion ofthose extraordina
ry productions. We call theiri extraordinary
without be’sitation, and without the fear of
ttontradiction; for it cannot be doubted that_
they deserve and will ever retain a liigh rank
among the standard works of English litera-
ture. Their author is the only writer of the
age who has been compared witbsliakespeare;
and surely we offer him high praise,

_ " praise eriotigh
To fill the ambition of a coinrnon man,”
tlthen we say that be is worthy of the compar-
ison. He has not indeed that majesty of
thought, or that strength and dignity of lan-
guage which characterize the great dramatist;
fror does he look abroad on the world and its
inhabitants with such an aspect and seeming
consciotisriess of superliurnan power; nor do
?~.-his works present so complete an encyclope-
tlia of human feeling and character ; nor do
they contain so rich a treasure ofspleridid im-
aginations and thrilling expressions;-—but still
§;_ic,auI.lior of Waverly is worthy to be com-
pared witlitlie author of Hamlet; and as the
one is the acknowledged prince ofdratnatists,
so the-other has no rival among the novelists
of this or any fortrier age.
, The Great Unknowii-—for that seems to
be at once the most convenient and the best
aiitliorized;appel|ation——writes in a style of
purer and more uiiaffected English than any
"Scotcliman ofour day. He enjoys the free
use of his faculties ; and never seems to wall.
in gyves like the author of Valerius, or on
stilts like the Edinburgh Iievieu/erg, His
laiigtiage is the mere vehicle‘ ofhis thought,
‘ trostuclir-rl and unatlorned ; and almost me
only fault which we can lay to his charge in
this matter is the fault of an occasional uegli
"game. The excellence ofhis style is, that the
,reader never thinks of it :-—and as in dress, so
in style, that is the best which attracts the
least attention. Home Tookc says that the
best English is to be found in the conversation
of well bred tvornen.' We are strongly iricliii
ed to his opinion; and though we have not
looked atone. oftbose novels for these six

;fiowers round the colurriris ofa fallen temple,
.'spreading a veidirre and beauty over the ruins
of his moral nature. Many finelilluslrations
ofthis are given by the author in question.—-
With few exceptions, the meanest and most
abaridonedlofhis characters have some better
qtialitie.s-—-sortie relics of what the world calls
virtue and Unitarians call holiness——some tra-
ces ofthose principles which hold society to-
gether, and keep the world from falling itito
chaos. The poetry oftiie Waverly Novels
ought not to be omitted in fortuing an estim-
ate of their value. We refer not merely to
to the far-fumed inottos from that-apocrypbal
“ Old Play,” or to those songs and metrical
fragnrents which are scattered through every
voluirie ; but to the nuriiberless descriptions——~
siiblime, or picturesque, or l‘.eatuifiil—that
pass before the imagination like rainbows ;-—
aud to all those sceires, and passages, and
forms of expression, that come home to the
heart or the fancy with a warmth and bright-
ness that belong only to poetry, and that re-
alize to us the description of

“ Tlioiights that breathe and words that burn;‘

and we say that taking poetry in this broad
sense, the. author of Waverly is a poet of no
ordinary character.

Tire stories which he tells are always more
or less improbable, and often tinuaturul. Iri-
deed a novel, the interest of which depends in
any great degree on the ‘plot, is necessarily
exposed to the former ofthese charges; for a
history, to be interesting, iuust contain some
events which are strange, out ofthe common
course, improbable. To illustrate otir mean-
ing by examples;~in lrving’s beziutifulsketch
of " the Pride ofthe Village,” there is outli-
ing strange or startling.——tlie reader never
asks himself, what next ?—-our does the inter-
est of the pieie depend on the story at all ;-—
it depends solely on the cliatacter and tlio’ts
antl feelings ofthe heroine, and our sympathy
in all her eniotious. It is the picture ofa seri-
sitive female mind, suffering and dying with
the pangs of disappointed affection; and it is
as such, and not as an eventful story, that it
seizes on the attention ofthe reader. But in
Don Quixote and Gil Blas,a greatproportion
ofthe interest is derived from the incidents of
the story ; and these incidents, if not individ-
ually, at least in the cornbiiiatiou in which
zliey are supposed to exist, are altogether im-
probable. Something tiiiexpectetl, and fre-
quently unaccountable, is starting tip at every
corirer ; and thus‘ the mind of the reader is
kept in a coritintied state of suspense, joined
with a kind ofhalf pleasing, half painful anx-
iety,—like the mind ofa gambler over his
cards, or, to compare great things with small,
like the mind ofa Napoleon playing the game
of battle, where the dice are arriiies and the
wager air empire.

Ami here we intist be permitted to remark,
that this is the secret of the mania with which
some people devour every thing which is cal-
led a novel. The Creator has formed us for
activity ; and he has so coustitiited our minds
as well as otrr bodies, that idleness is wretch-
edness, and inactivity is its own punislirneiit.
This pain ofinactivity is one of the springs
which keep the world in nrotiori; but when it
operates by itself, without the aid ofother trio-
tires, it is insufficient to produce exertion ;-—
and the mind under its influence will fly to
novels, or to cards, or to intoxication, or to a
kind of feverish excitement, which, tho’ mis-
erable indeed, may afford some relieffrom
absolute ennui. An active, powerful mind,
operating in favourable circumstances, may
make a niatr thegreatest general ofhis age;
and the same mental activity, when peace has
thrown him out of employment, may make
him as great a gambler. A fashionable young
lady, whom circumstances have deprived of
her usual employments and ainusernents, may
become, in the same way, a devoted novel-L
reader. -But devoted novel-readers, as well as
devoted gamblers, are formed, in rriost cases,
by a different process. There is in works or
fiction, as in gaming, a kind of fascination,
which, where ilU'lilI'lg comes in to break the
charm, lures on the victim till his mind has
become so srupified and deadened by dissipa-
tion, that he can find no enjoyment but in this
morbid and feverish exciteiuerit. Such a
reader, after having exhausted all the novels
in existeuce.—-if you cottld once suppose the
fountains of fiction to be dried up,—would
weep as the Macedonian wept when he had
conquered the world ; would weep because
his only source ofexcitement was gone, leav-
ing nothing to save him from the listlessness
of perfect inactivity. ,

Fictitious narrative, then, owes its charm to
this. It awakens curiosity. and thus furnishes
at once stimulus and employment to many a
mind whose indolent.-e would shrink from rm
labour of intellectual plllsull.‘i,——a|)d whose
oulness, poetry itself, " glancing from earth
to heaven and from heaven to earth,” and
bringing back from each excursion its ima-
405 of light and thoughts of fire,--would nev—
tl be able to animate. 1! was for minds like
these that novels were "invented ;- and accord-
ingl y, in the irifancy of this species of writing,
. 1

. "Q .. . .. .'Jn1on’tli's._ ‘w‘e~'vt':‘n‘t'ure to assert that the En_‘gl_isli llrrcitlent was every tbing,.-i-and;»to, this theatlr
NOVF-Iis-' ., - .0fth'’e 'Grea‘t»‘Unkrio'w‘ri ‘is very 'r'nu'cli ‘of this

sits boundless vari‘eti‘es, and a thorotrgb ac-,

To this remark, however there are exceptions,

~ are with the events ofyesterday.

,0

thor wasailowed to -sacrifice; jirobaliiiity ,a_t"i’d
6'v‘en naturé.”f“'Biit‘the public mind -was s_o6‘ri"
sat'édw’itb fic_tio’r'is like these ; and it is requir-
ed f'of’a’n‘o'vel-writer -that - he Sliall 'confor'rii~
himself,-so far as he knows how,l.to thelaws
ofnature, and restrainthe itnprobability ofhis
story within ‘certain limits, marked out——not
very definitely it is true—-by the canons of
criticism. The Great Unknown, j. however,
pays b‘u_'t little regard to these litnits,——as riiust
have been observed.by;_eVery reader possess-
ing an ordinary-share ofdiscrimination. The
consistency, and probability, and effect ofhis
sfory occupy but a small part ofhis attention.

history, and manners, and national character
of his country; and to this every thing; else,
and most of all his plot, is made subordinate.

What th'en has been his sticcessin this par-
ticular? And here ‘we acknowledge lljete l5
much t'o admire. He seemsto have searched
_all the records of antiquity. "N0"! 8 bfluki "01
a ballad,not a_ worin«eaten.fragment ofa trian-
uscript, that can throw any light on the ob-
scurity ofthe past, appears to have escaped
his notice. He is as familiar with the trans-
actions and manners of forrner ages. 35 We
He can tell
how lords and ladies, how nobles and vaissals,
were respectively attired, in the days of King
Richard the Lion-hearted, as easily as a mil-
liner can describe the latest fashions from
Lotidon or Paris. He makes his republican
and unroinantic readers in America» 83 W8“
acquainted with the pomp of a tournament,
as they are with the paradefifa militia review.
He delineates the external influence andthe
internal ecotiomy of ancient monastic institu-

nronks, strangely variegated with DOW afld
then an instance of restless ambition, or per-
haps of trtre htirnility and genuine but mista-
ken devotedness,-—-the constant solicttnde
with which they struggled to maintain the cirr-
pire of ignorance,——and their gradual but
speedy decline from the height of power. to
weakness, to cotiteuipt, to utter extinction’;-—
ifwitli lessacctiracy, certainly with more ini-
pressiveness than has ever been done by any
professed historian. Now he introduces us to
the Edinburgh town cotincil, as it was 1736;
or to the cells of the Tolbooth ; and now, ‘ as
by the stroke of an enchanter’s wand,’ the
scene is changed, and we are in the Courtlol
Elizabeth, gazing on the magnificence ofthe
‘ last days of chivalry.’ Or at another tune,
he leads us among the glans and mounta.ns
ofthe Highlands, and shows us whatever ht‘
deems worthy of notice, if not with the accu-
racy of statistics, at least with the enthtisiirsirr
ofpoetry. The reader seeriis to hiiuself to
have visited the Highlands in person ; and to
have seen those wild clans, who, almost with-
in the tiieriiory ofthe present generation, were
wont to gather at the notes ofthe pibrocli,
and scorning all law but the will oftlieir
cliicftains, contended with each other on

robbers on the Saxons of the Lo\vlandS- A
dissertation on the I-liglrlanders tniglit have
accurately described the power and character
ofthe chieftains ; but in Fergus i\'l’Ivor Vich
Jan Volir, we see a living speciriien ; it might
describe tl'e phenomena and superstitions of
the secrindsiglit ; birt in Allan M’Aulay, they
are eivbodied, and move palpably before us ;
and the reader, who, after having studied the
tlissertatiori supposed, should become ac-

Moutrose, would find himselfsoinewhat in
the predicament ofa student in mineralogy,
who, after having learned all that could be ac-
qu ired frtni books, slioitld be "introduced, for
the first time, to a splendid cabinet,——his cori-
ceptions, beforevague and obscure, would be-
corrie accurate anti distinct, and worthy oftlrc
name of knowledge.

Having said thus much by way of praise-
enough, surely, to free ourselves from every
sllSplCl(.li of wilfully refusing honour where
honour is due—we are now hold to declare
that oirr admiration of the VVaverly novels,
considered in their historical character, is by
no means unminglr-.d. lfan impartial dispo-
sition is an important requisite in a historian,
who merely narrates facts as they actually
took place ; how much more important iriust
it be in a writer like the one of whom we now
speak, who attempts to describe and illustrate
historical characters by attributing to them
imaginary actions and sentiments. These
imaginary actions and sentiments, it is evi-
dent, may have, and ought to have, a kind of
historical truth,——tliey may, and should be,
such actiotis as the persons described might
have performed, and such sentiments as they
might have uttered, corisisteutly with their
real characters. 'l‘liiis, when Queen Eliza-
beth, niad with anger, drags forward the
trembling Arriy, or when Queen Mary vents
her sarcasms .on the Lady of Lochleven,-—
what the autlror,tells its is not absolutel true,
but it has all the truth that is required in

works ofthis nature—it is true enough, as the

mathematicians soriietimes say, for all practi-
cal purposes. Birt it is plain that ifthe writer
ofa historical fiction is under the influence of
any unjust partialities, he will inevitably go
wrong, and falsify the truth of history. This
is the case with the author of Waverly. He
has his prejudices, for he is a tory—au admi-
rer ofthe feudal and the Gothic in the curi-
stitution of his country. He seems halfeiiain-
cured with the good old tiuies of romance,—'
the times when the stately Barrio with his
seiieschal and minstrels, and holy confessor,
reigned in his castle, surrounded with moats
and draubridges, and guarded by his faithful
depetidaiits, who acknowledged no duty but
obedience to him, and demairded no reward
brit plunder ;—-when contending neighbours,
instead of going to law,mustered their respec-
tive friends, and carried on the quarrel by
force and arms ;-—when a feud was handed
down from generatiouto generation, like an
English chaiicery suit, and continually grew
iriore and more complicated by the successive
rntirders which were couiiuitted “just to keep
the matter from going to sleep ;—whcn the
paliner wandered from place to place, telling
such lies of what he had seen in the Holy
Land,‘as might prit Sir John Mandeville, and
even Fearon or Faux to shame;—when kings
made war upon each other for the-guerdon of
a lady's smile, or under the influence of reli-
gions fanaticism, tnarched with the bravest
and noblcst of their kingdoms to die on the
plains of Syria, or under the walls of Jerusa-
lern. He shares too deeply in the spirit which
called forth from Burke that quixotic euiogi-
um, as false as it is spletidid, on the age of

chivalry. He belongs to that party in the
Britislrernpire whose motto is’, '

 

~ = Lest; the -w,hole',t_loijie’ S'llOl:lf(l

His great object seems to be, to illustrate the

tions,—tlie general idleness and apathy ofthe;

points of honour, or came down in bands of

qtiainted with Waverly, or the Legend of

 

r..ii.:»;_.-...cli

whotstreuuously terflse to 'tlo_away lanytlf the

‘absurdities of.«Gotliic"law's and feudal _ins_titu,-’_

tions lest the‘ door should he opened for end-
less innovation ;-—who would not alter‘, for
example,’ one of the ridiculous forriis with
which a bill from the‘House of Corntnons is
introdijced intothe House of Lords, ‘lest it
should shake the throne of Majesty, and bring
in universal "anarchy. 'Er_ijoyiug all the priv-
ileges of an Englishman. and enjoying them
too with the keenest relish, he looks with. a
kind ‘ofjealoosy on their progressive enlarge-
ment,» and loses no opportunity of throwing
suspicion on the motives, or contempt on the
characters ofthe men who purchasedthein at
the expense oftoil, and sufferings, and death.
The spirit which prompted the first acts of
resistance to the oppression of Charles 1.. he
would stigmaiize as rebellion; and the infat-
uation which, at a time when the liberties of
England might have been built upon a broad
and permanent basis—called frorii exile, anti
placed on the throne ofhis father,the French-
ified and voluptuous Charles IL, hewould
call the bursting forth of a true and generous
loyalty. Witne-ss,in the Abbott, the attei-ript
to place in an amiable attittide the character
of Mary, and to represent her as driven from
her throne by a successful combination of re-
bellious subjects, who disregarding alike the
laws of God and the liberties of man, aimed
only to secure for theriiselves the power which
they wrested frotri her. And yet, if history
he not a fable, that Queen had merited by her
rzriines all that an indignant nation heaped
upon her; and ainong those subjects who con-
spired to dethrone her, were to he fonnd,some
whose patriutisiii was as unquestionable as the
patriotism of Wallace, and ofTell, and, we
will say,ot' Was-liington. Witness too, in Old
Mortality, his representation of“those heroes
ofthe kirk, who first uplifted her banner on
the mountains.” He would make us believe
that the Covenanters were a horde of wrong-
headed and ferocious fanatics. With the siti-
gle exception ofblorton, all his specimens of
their character are uiore or less designed to
call._forth either ridicule, or indignation, or
contempt ;and Morton himself is represented
as urged on, not by principle, but by a succes-
sion of accidents and mistakes, which uiade
it impossible for him to act otherwise. And
yet, these were the men, who, when the spirit,
and even the desire of liberty, seemed well
nigh extinct ; when Scotland submitted in si-
leuce to the sway ofan iron-hearted and iron-
handed despotism; when a tyrannical govern-
ment ~-as carrying into execution systematic
nieasures for the aiitiilillatton of all the privi-
lcgesofthe stibject, “ and there was none that
moved the wing, or opened the mouth, or
peeped ;”—these same Covenanters were the
inert, who, in such circtiriistances, dared to as-
sert their rights, and maintain their liberties.
These were the men, who, in that age of di-
vine right and passive obedience, dared-to act
on the principle of t776,that all power is dele-
gated for the good ofthe people,and that when
that power is perverted or abused,‘ the subject
is absolved from his allegiance. These were
the men to whom their countrymen are under

. the strongest obligations, for having kept alive

at a period so inauspicious, that spirit office-
doni, which so soon afterwards burst forth in
one broad flame, at the era in which they now
glory as “ the Revolution.”

But, not satisfied with representing these

champions ofliberty, as cruel and couteinpti-
ble fanatics, the author of Waverly would
make his readers believe that whatever in
their characters, as portrayed by him, is cal_-
culated to call forth either zrbhorrence-,or pity,
or disgust, was occasioned, or at least promo-
ted, by the religion they professed. We do
not deny, that among that people, goaded as
they had been, into madness by oppression 8:.
persecution. there were dark and ferocious
bigots, like his Balfour of Btirley, or enthusi-
astic zealots, like Macbriar; but we do not
deny that such individuals ought to be brought
forward as representatives ofthe whole. The
representation is injustice to the character of
Scotland ; it is injustice to the. memory ofhei‘
ruarryred patriots ; and it illustrates 3:. proves
the aiithor’s strong prejudice against what he
calls their “ opake nietaphysical theology.”
, This brings us to the moral and religious
character of his productions, in respect to
which our highest comtnendati on must be
negative. He never exhibits the fiendish de-
pravity of Byron, nor the Sadducean licen-
tiotrsness of Moore, nor the brutal epicurism
ofthe writers in Blackwood’s Magazine. He
always shows himself to be what is called a
good sort ofa good huriiored man, ftrll ofthe
milk of human kindness, and possessing all
amiable affections together with about as
much religion as may be found in A|ison’s
sermons. The moral influence of his writ-
ings, either one way or the other, is zip; -
eritly no concern of his. He makes no effort
to excite those emotions which are directly
injurious ; nor does he ever attempt to raise
us above the world, or to fill us with holier
feelings. Milton would not write tlius—-nor
Cowper--nor Wordsworth.

But we may not stop here. While we ac-
quit hitn of any malicious intentions against
iriorality or decency, we must ask, what isthe
moral influence ofthat vulgar profaneness
with which all bis writings are polluted ?——or
ofthat levity with which, even when speaking
in his own person, he sometimes treats the
holiest conceptions of religion? l’Vliat pa-
rent would trust his children wherethey might
listen to tliefconversarion of blackguards, and
bullies, and abandoned rufiians ? Or, passing
by the influence offamiliarity with uudisguisw
ed and loathsome wickedness, what must be
the effect on a youthful mind, of contemplat-
ing a character like Fergus M’Ivor ?—-or like
Rob 'Roy ?—or like Ravenswoood, proud,
passionate, revengeful, but still placed,in such
situations, and expressing such sentiments,
that we seem to behold a perfect specimen of
moral sublirnity ?' And what emotions, are
excited when the reader sympatliizes with all
that pride and passion ; blames him‘ for not
prosecuting his designs of vengeance ; and is
ready to rebel against the providence, or rath-
‘er, as the autliorwould seem to represent it,
the fate, which persecuted him with misfor
tunes, and doomed him to ruin ? '

Our opinion ofthe Waverly Novels then, is
briefly this. Looking at them as works of
taste, as a monument of genius, as a manual
ofhumaii nature, we give them all the praise
they claim. _ Looking at tliein as historical
representations, while we admire their im-
pressiveuess, we condemn their partiality,and

send‘ the reader to correct his conceptions by

13* tire less vivid, but there .-.fc¢'m'r.': delfneations

of history. Iiookirrgat them in their moral

land relligious terftieney', we de,precate"th'ei‘r

infitieirce. Such is the master. We pass now
to his disciples, feeling that after having giver?!
so much of our attention ‘to the foruier, our
limits will permit us to say but little respect}-

{The rernn_r'.rrr1er next week ) .

./1 Singular I}uel.—The following relatiori

Was coiiimtiuicatetl for the Essex Register by

a traveller, as furnishing acurious fact in Nat-
ural History. V ' '

Travelling tlirol one ofthe ti0tlll'let‘l'l states;
my attention was attracted bya singular rust-
ling in the thicket which bordered on the road.
[stopped my horse to learn its cause ; and
S00" dl3°0lIe't'etl, at a few paces from the tract;
a rattlesnake of rather more than ordinary
size, in a coil such as these reptiles always
throw themselves into, on the approach or at-_

 

of extreme rage, and-displaying all those ter-
rible beauties for which its species are so re-
markable when under the influ_enc‘e ofpasl
sion. No cause for its disorder was at first
visible; btrt in a short time a blackvsnake darti
ed from the surrounding bushes rapidly aci-'ns§
the folds of his antagonist,aud disappeared do
the other side. The rattlesnake did not fail
to strike at his darting assailant, but with what
success the rapidity of their motion prevented
me from determining. The rattlesnake re-
mained in his coil, prepared for another as‘-
sattlt, which was soon made, his black foe re-
appearing, and again gliding across him with
alrriost inconceivable rapidity, while the same"
.itetiript as formerly was made to punish the
aggression. Tliese movements were seven‘:
times repeated with no apparent advantage
to either party. The black snake seemed
once or twice struck with the farrgs of his en-
emy, and yet returned with undiniinished ce-
lerity to his subtle assault. The. -density of
tlie tiiiderwood would not permit me to follow
with my, eyes his retreat ; and however great
my ctiriosiry to ascertain how be employed
the tiiue of his absencc,I could not prevail
upon inyselfto indulge it by entering on so
fatal 3 battle ground. At length, the rattle-
snake in one of its attempts to revenge the
izrsolence of his assailant,struck his fangs deep
into his body ; he extricated them, stretched
himself with every appearance of agony on
the ground, and turning on his back,in,a short
time expired. The crafty victor once more
appeared, and seizing the lifeless body in his
mouth, dragged it from the scene of action..
.N'ew method qf increasing Salarr'e.tr.—-A re-
spectable clergyman in the neighbourhood of
Boston, being at the residence of one of his
wealthy and hospitable parishioners, made
some complaints ofthe pitiful sum annually
allowed him for his labor: and love, and con-
cluded by wishing it could be enlarged, that
he might be able comfortably to support and
bring up an increasing family. A colotired
servant happening in at the moment, and
hearing souietliing about salary, and family;
thought the rriinister was complaining of the
drought, and scarcity of garden vegetables;
and having just been told that his kindred the
Haylieris had become independent, was de-
teriniifed by his liberality, to show himself
not unworthy ofthe nation ; and running in-
to the garden, pulled tip and conveyed to the
chaise of the uiiuister a large quantity of.C'el-
ery, Sm. After the worthy guest had gone,
the negro came in _and with.a countenance
free from blushes says ;-—" Massa, guess Mr.

empty box full.”—Boston Traveller.
Between the hours of l0'and 11 o'clock lagt
evening, Mrs. , and her niece ofthe Bow-
ery, having retired for the night to their room
in tliirdstory, were alarmed by the falling in
ofa sash oftheir window, which looks over an
ally that separates the buildiirg from the ad-
joining. Mrs. raising her head, discov-
ered to her no small consternation, through
the distinctness ofstar light, a strange rnau
sitting very composedly by the window. Tire
first exclamation of alarm awoke the man,
wlto, until then, was put conscious that he had
left his own room, by forcing himself at the
extreme peril of his life through the nar-
row aperture of his window, obliquely across
the alley, into the window of his fair neigh-
bors apar'ment. Tire difficulty and hazard
ofthe venture was greatly increased, by the
windows not being opposite each other: their
distance could not be less than 5 or 6 feet ;—'—
aird the height ofthe pa vement not less than
forty. 'I‘lie man on perceiving the danger he
had so providentially escaped, and his present
dileruina, seeiried quite as much dismayed as
the ladies. From his own account it appears,
that having prepared himself for bed, he‘ sat
down by his window to enjoy the refreshing
breeze ofevening, when lo! ‘Sornntisrcovered
him with poppies und he recollected notliin
more, until awoke as before rrottced. '
A gentleman being called, who fortunately
lodged in an apartment adjoining the ladies,
soon relieved tbetn from the unwelcoine. in-
trusion oftlie nocturnal visitor, by showing
him the way tothe street door.-.flmeri'crm.

NEW SUPPLY OF CANAL FLOUR,
JUST received and for sale by the subscri-
ber, Fifty Barrels of the first quality of
CANAL FLOUR, fresh ground, and of a
superior quality. Jorm BURRALL. ’

Likuvise, a qu.'int'ity~ofTURKS ISLAND
SALT, of good quality.
August 28d.

, Distillery Apparatus.
OR SALE, by the subscriber, on reason-
able te_rms,- the whole of the.Apparatus
used in ‘the Distillery formerly owned by Asa
Lockwood, consisting oftwo Stills, 2 W0 rrns,
one Tub of the capacity of 50 barrels, -one of
40 barrels, and another of 30, together with
some other articles. HUGH M’Lr:Atv.
Norwalk, Aug. 8, 1895. 24

. TO SILVERSMITHS. W
SILVERSMITH wairtedto occupy one
ofthe best stands in the. stale. Apply to

« Issac Qtmv'mRo,Jr.
Stamford. Aug. I7, 1825. 26

LA;.‘~T CALL.
ALL debts due the subscriber riiust posi-
tively be paid’ by the‘ fat day of October
next, or they will‘ indiscrirninately be put in
the hands of ajustice for collection. '
. War’. Cnocxes.
Ridgfield, Aug. 12, 18955. 9l5t0 ,

ing the latter. That little'however is enough.’ ‘

tack of an enetny, exhibiting every symptom '-

, got Calary nuffnow ; Icratn his big ;

 

'-