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George is not destined to end his days in the Force. One day loitering on his beat in Hyde Park, he encounters the mysterious lady of the Greyhound; who is named Circe, otherwise Miss Freeling, the heiress of broad iands, and daughter of the Lady Freeling, who had,

Had her tutored in the paths of grace, For, virtue lends a lustre to the face. Mother and daughter live with Sir Joseph Orme, a knight and courtier-the brother of the old lady, and uncle of Circe, There is something equivocal, baffling, and withal disgusting, about this part of the story; which, in a prefatory memorandum the writer says is founded on facts of recent occurrence. The writer revels on in his fluent power of description, and we learn that Circe's passing whisper engages the Sergeant to "follow," unheeding his beat and the frowns of Sir Richard Birnie, till he traces the lady to Belgrave Square, where, all unknown to her uncle, she smiles, and waves her hand. While George leans "wailing" on the "railing," out issues Cupid's messenger in the form of a negress——

Ah! Massa young-my missie weep for grief!
Him very joy so great; and gar me flew
To gib dis note to Massa, "Grab-de-tie
Wid de blue uniform".

make shipwreck of a young writer with
any Scottish critic of less patience than
ourselves,-doom him to grovel in Cock-
aigne for ever.

THE PILGRIM OF ERIN, and other Poems. Whatever be the calamities of Ireland, no country rejoices in so affectionate a family of children. Her misfortunes endear her to their hearts; her undeserved sufferings, make her sacred in their eyes, and each hastens to lay the tribute of his homage on her altars. These gifts differ immensely in value; but as the motive is alike, she will receive the Young PILGRIM's wild flower, as graciously as the gem of her more gifted sons. The Pilgrim, who tells us he is young, does us the honour to select his motto from Taif's Magazine, and dedicates to the King what he wishes to be held as an appeal to England in behalf of his native island. This appeal is made in the Spenserian stanza; the author muses on the departed

The note informs George Short, that Circe knows more about him than he seems to know of himself;-he is enjoined to quit the Force-and Circe manages that he shall become the Secretary of Sir Joseph.-The family move in autumn to the sea-side-love progresses :while George performs his duties of secretary

Sad Circe lingered near, with her light tread;
A magic creature, from the land of fairy,
With voice as sweet as an Eolian lute-
Her face a passion-flower, her breast its root.
Circe had always been fond of the sea-
side, it seems, and now her

Gentle heart with rapture beat,
And her lip welcomed her own ocean's roar,
Her childhood haunt, and caverns retreat,

Where she and Selwyn over spars might pore,
And gather sea-weeds from the surf and swell,
And hear the captive billow in the shell.

glories and ancient battle-fields of Ire
land, and invokes her patriots and bards,
with some facility of description, and
glow of feeling. After an apostrophe to
the spirits of Emmett, Grattan, and Rowan,
(who, by the way, is not yet a disembo-
died spirit) the Pilgrim argues thus for
the fatal wrench which, until the extreme
of necessity, Englishmen and Irishmen
must alike deprecate :--

The canto closes with a highlywrought, and, in many points a beautiful description of a sea-side adventure of Circe's, though we regret to say, it is not free of the blemishes which run through the whole poem. We have scarcely yet expressed either the fulness of our admir. ation, or our blame of this anonymous specimen of a work, with which we trust there will be encouragement to proceed; if such encouragement gives motive to amend and purify. Among the many little errors, there are rhymes at the bottom of page 4th which would at once

As diamond, but by diamond can be cut,
Defying all less strength, so 'twas thy hand,
Thy own base, bartered hand, which only put
The sword into thy breast, which raised the wound
ALONE could shiver this free, fearless, land.
Through every age in Senate and in fight,
Thy own worst foe; from Dhermod's traitor band
To those who sold thy best and dearest right-
Oh! what can save thee now? There is one word,
-UNITE!

Unite! To tyrant hearts, a name of fear,
It drops like music on the patriot's soul:
The word is talismanic; let them hear,
Who sit on thrones, its thunder accents roll,
And catch the electric, that no Kings control.
Hark! through the nations to the enchanted word,
And Europe leaps to liberty-her scroll
Of gloom thrown back.

After an address to Foland, the writer turns to the fallen walls of Tara :-Oh! where are Tara's halls? where, where the pile, Which glory speaks of, and which Time had zoned With years of sanctity? where the long file Of all its Monarchs here supremely throned? Where is its harp ? and where the bards its strings that toned.

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THE DOUBLE TRIAL.*

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riage, got out, and took some refreshments with him. It was all concluded as to the case of the poor woman-she had just expired; and a female child, of about three years of age, was lying over her, with little appearance of life. Mr. Elrington offered unable to take; but she sipped a few drops some plain cake to the child, which she was of a cordial, which seemed greatly to revive her. The party soon passed away, all but the man. The cord, and the driving wind and sleet made every one seek for shelter. "What can be done with the dead body, and the poor child?" said Mr. Elrington.

"It is her own child, and she had better

This, for a novel, is a curiosity, and al- die with her mother," said the man. most a nondescript. It combines in truly Shandean manner, Philosophy, Religion, Political Economy, and the State of Ireland, with the obsolete romance of the beautiful Foundling Heroine, the Spectre and Haunted Chamber. The DOUBLE TRIALS are necessary to develop these intricacies of plot, and restore the heroine, after the ancient and approved manner, to her fortune, titles, and loving and suffering mother.-If this were all, we would make short work with The Double Trial, the main interest of which consists in long, rambling, and manifold digressions, connected with every thing in the world save the business on hand. In these the author unfolds his opinions on almost every topic which has been discussed within the last twenty years, and, in doing so, display's much good sense and good, sound, old-fashioned English feeling. The work opens 'with the description of a clearing in Ireland, the technical term for the cruel system, (in its immediate effects most cruel), of turning out the cottagers of a district to throw the land into large farms. Mr. Elrington, the agent, an English gentleman bred to the law, is so disgusted with the treatment of the people, that he throws up his situation, and is travelling to Dublin, on his way to England, when he thus overtakes the wretched expatriated cottiers :

"How can you be so inhuman?" exclaimed Mr. Elrington: “ Wrap her up, and carry her away in your arms after your company; and take this," giving him a small sum of money, "and endeavour, in the morning, to get the poor creature a burial."

"A burial!" said the man, taking the money; "let the dead bury their dead! In this country, in this place, we outcasts have no home, no priest, no burial-place. I have done what I could, and you may do what such a set of rulers as we have? Do you you can. When will God be avenged of think my Lord Kathemere, who made a clearing of us from his estate, will, with the new profit, get finer dresses for his new mistress? I suppose he will go to his box, at his favourite Opera, at Rome to-night? I wish I was close to him at the moment-he should never come out alive!-God bless thee, child! may he take thee with thy mother!"

Elrington with the corpse and the child. The man went off hastily, and left Mr. The driving sleet and cold increased. In vain Mr. Elrington called after the man : it was a case of necessity, and he carried the child to the carriage. It soon revived, and ate some cake; and, as it appeared very weary and sleepy, he wrapped it in a warm cloak, and laid it at the bottom of the vehicle. In answer to some questions of Mrs. Elrington, he said, "I should think the young woman had been dead before the man approached us. She appeared too young to be the mother of the child. The man's language and manners are very unlike those of the common people of the country. We must take the child to Dublin with us, and endeavour to get it into the Foundling Hospital. It is one of the finest Charities in Ireland; and this is a case in which it will not be abused. There was a time, indeed, when this Charity was abused, in a way, trust, no Charity on the face of the earth will ever experience. Sir John Blaguiere brought the case before the English House of Commons; for the only sound argument for abolishing the Irish House of Commons was, that that Body did nothing for the poor: it would have reformed, like many of our reformers now, but it never seemed disposed to go any further than to better themselves. Tithes were an aggrievement; and the Irish House of Commons, at one sweep took away the rights of the Clergy to the agistment *SMITH, ELDER & Co. London, 3. vols., pp. 900. tithes that is, my dear, those tithes which

The second day was damper and colder; and they had scarcely proceeded half the former day's distance, when they overtook a very ragged and straggling company. Appearance of wearisomeness and distress was in every countenance. There was no need of asking the cause: evidently some CLEARING had taken place in the neighbourhood. At length, upon a bleak common, their attention was arrested by a group; and a man, approaching the carriage, exclaimed, “In the name of the God of Heaven, can you give a drop of any thing comfortable to a poor young creature that is dying, or is dead?"Mr. Elrington stopped the car

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were vexatious (because they had to com-
pound for them) to the nobility and gentry
But I was speaking of Sir
John Blagueire's Report upon the Found-
ling Hospital at Dublin. Such a scene of
peculation and iniquity never was before
exhibited in a Christian country. The gross-
est neglect was the least evil. So indifferent
(or something worse) were the attendants
to the summons to take the poor foundlings
into the Hospital, that instances were pro-
duced before the House of Commons, which
proved that, when children had been placed
in a receiving trough, and the bell was rung
to call for an attendant, the pigs of the
establishment ran up, and began devouring

them."

The nurse-maid screamed, which is no wonder, and was about falling into hysterics, when Mrs. Elrington exclaims,"It must be impossible, my dear Elrington!"

"So we have said upon a thousand points, my love, since we first came to this country, and heard sundry reports; but how many of these strange, horrid, impossible stories have we not found to be true?"

"If experience must decide," said the lady, with a heavy sigh, "I confess it is not safe to disbelieve any thing."

"Laird! Sir," said the servant, driven out of her respectful silence by the soul-appalling account," why, the very pigs themselves must have been in a state of starvation!"

ceives a slap on the face at every corner,
turning, or winding,-beginning, middle,
and end of a chapter, wherever the au-
thor can lug him in. This castigation
he appears to consider as a religious duty;
and he performs it with unflagging zeal.
There are several good characters in
the work, transcripts of real flesh-and-
We like Harley
blood men and women.
and his wife, Mrs. Clements, the village
merchant, some of the inferior person-
ages, and above all, PUFFETER, the he-
roic auctioneer, an unique and original.
Some of the scenes look like transcripts
of actual experience, and we have no
doubt are so. There is a duel fought be-
tween the lover of a married lady and her
brother, a Colonel of the Guards, most
unlike the commonplace encounters of a
novel. The correspondence which fol-
lows this affair is remarkable. The let-
ter of the Countess especially has every
internal mark of authenticity. The lady,
deserted by her worthless husband, an
Irish nobleman, is left to the arts of his
relative, Sir Bedell Wharton, and after a
seclusion of some years, elopes with him,
discovers his baseness, and leaves him.
The husband, brother, and lover, of the
unfortunate woman, are found alike pro-
fligate; and her position among three
scoundrels is a striking one. Mr. Elring-
ton meets her by an accident.

"Very likely, Jemima," said her master, "if their keepers could get more by starving than by fattening them. This, at least, as to the wretched children, we know to be the fact; for it was proved before the House of Commons by the books kept by the Foundling and I suppose nobody will argue, that the stewards of the establishment wished to make their own case worse than it really was -it was proved, I say, that within six years preceding the Report in the House of Commons, which was made in the year 1797, 12,786 children had been received, of whom only 135 survived!'

"This was proved before our English House of Commons !" said the lady, with

horror.

"Yes, my dear, in the year 1797; and this Report has been well characterized, in a very few words, as the most infernal account of systematized murder that ever in any age disgraced any country, civil or savage.

"Mercy me!" cried Jemima, emboldened, in the cause of humanity, to make another remark, "what will become of this poor child? It is a pity, as the man said, that she had not died with her mother, or her nomother; but then, it is to be hoped, that she is at least too big for the pigs.'

This extraordinary statement introduces Malthus, who, from this point, re

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from Ireland.

And, I thank God, not unknown to me
by fame," said the lady. "You are the
agent of Lord Vanessy; and I am a
wretched and miserable woman, and unde-
serving of any name! yet of all names, I
loathe and abbhor that by which I am
known!-Mistake me not, Šir; I want no
other name; I wish to live the remains of
my life of horror unnamed and unknown, or
I had not troubled you with this interview.
Whoever has fallen in this sad duel, I fly
from both; and to consult with you where
I can hide my head for ever, has induced me
to avail myself of this accidental meeting.
have heard of me
But I am almost distracted!-Alas! you
I am I was Lady
Kathemere."

In Spain, out of 20,000, about half died in the For a moment or two his feelings prevented
Mr. Elrington was very much shocked.

Orphan House at Madrid; but this in Ireland was
upwards of 90 in 100.

his words. Too well he knew who the very

young and beautiful woman before him was. She had married at the early age of eighteen, the very noble and wealthy Lord Kathe mere, without any approval of her own. Scarcely had she been married two years, when the infamous conduct of her as band obliged him to fly to distant lands. She had long been secluded from all honourable society, and her depraved husband had left her under the control of agents and relatives of his own, taking away with him the only child of their marriage, a boy, who was said to be with him in Italy. Among these were Sir Bedell Wharton, a Baronet of the utmost art, and fashion, and depravity. All these were now employed to deceive the young Countess; and chiefly was she alarm. ed at the idea of being again subject to the society of her husband; and at length, (it is more to be lamented than wondered at,) this unhappy young lady saw no other means of escape than accepting the proffered protec tion of Sir Bedell himself.

At the period of her elopment, about a year ago, her brother, Colonel Crooklawn, was with his regiment on service; but as soon as he came to England, he lost no time in following the fugitives, and had on the present morning met with them in that part of Switzerland, through which Mr. Elrington with his family was proceeding to Eng

land.

Mr. Elrington again tendered his services to the Countess.

"You know my mind, Sir; I will never again see Sir Bedell or my brother. Before I ask what has been the event of this encounter, I produce to you these two letters-the one addressed to the Baronet, the other to the Colonel. Now tell me, Sir, what has happened?"

"Sir Bedell is very severely wounded, or (Mr. Elrington paused). dead!"

"I trust to God! not dead," said the Countesss calmly."You see, Sir, the letters are unsealed. You shall hear the contents. Yet, first of all, let me tell you what you may not know of my history. My relations compelled me to be the wife of Lord Kathemere. I have been as deceived by Sir Bedell as by them and his Lordship. I have not a person on the face of the earth unless it be yourself, in whom I can trust; and if this encounter had not taken place, I have made that discovery this morning, that I never would again associate with Sir Bedell. Let me now inform you that I wrote to my brother, to dissuade him from this meeting with Sir Bedell, and here is his reply.'

The lady read

"I do not believe that you

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I would to God you had ever disowned me, and then I might not have been the miserable and guilty woman that I confess myself to be! Too true, my honour is irrevocably lost! but where was your own when you compelled me to marry that man of infamy, of the depravity of whose character you were not ignorant? I had been brought up privately by foreign governesses. I knew nothing of Loid Kathemere; but I disliked his person and manners. My father would have yielded to my solicitations against the alliance; but you came forward.-Remember, Sir, that you never came forward as my brother before-that you have never come forward as my friend in your whole life-that I have at no time, from my birth, ever received from you one act of kindness, one look of affection, one word of good-will or good advice. offered me, you pointed out its honours and -But when this very splendid match was its value, and enforced me to accept of it, by saying that I should disgrace and injure my family that I should be buried for life in some convent abroad, where I never should be known or seen; that you pledged yourself by oaths to these and other acts of cruelty, if I did not accept the offer of Lord Kathemere; and you declared to me, what I was ignorant enough to believe, that my father, as a Peer of the realm, could by law compel me to marry.-Was this untruth, Sir, part of your honour ?-But, Sir, though you have never owned me for my good, you have (I have lately discovered) for your own. The first sacrifice of my honour was when I married his Lordship; you had the price of it, in the representation of Lord Kathemere's Borough of Broughton. This, I have documents to prove, was the stipulation for your interference. And when my wretched husband left me, did you interfere-did you offer to protect me-did you attempt to shield me from the depraved set around me?-I am fallen? but do you stand upright! No, Colonel Crooklawn, I might have been honourable, and virtuous, and happy, but for you; and had you been a truly honourable man, you would have sheltered me from these evils, into which you have betrayed me, and for which you now accuse me. The fate

"MADAM, care either for me or your paramour, any more than I do for your lost reputation. It is my own honour, Madam-it is the insult that Sir Bedell has given me by daring to make a mistress of one allied to me by blood, that will make me lift up my arm to chastise him; and not any consideration

you threatened me with, if I did not marry, I now voluntarily embrace as the consequence of that wretched marriage. My mind is truly distracted; yet in my distraction I have written this.-There are yet strange and dreadful tales connected with my history, which, if I had ever found a friend and brother. I should wish him at some future day to endeavour to unravel. I mention this

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now, that you may not afterwards be surprised, or pretend to disbelieve, because the circumstance had not before occurred. I cannot trust you."

After a little farther conversation, Lady Kathemere says,——

"And now, Sir, hear my letter to Sir Bedell-it is very short."

"SIR BEDELL WHARTON,

"You have betrayed me. You were in league with my husband. I forgive you; but I'll never see your face again. "A. K."

They were now informed that Sir Bedell was brought into the house, and wished to see the lady.

The Countess declared that she would on no account have any interview with him;

and she begged the favour of Mr. Elrington to go and inform him of the same.

excuse.

Ir. Elrington went into the wounded man's room and if the outward grace and personal exterior can be an excuse for the frailty of woman, the Countess had that sad Sir Bedell had received a shot in his shoulder-blade. A surgeon was every moment expected. He appeared in great pain, and very great agitation of mind; but he composed his fine features, and bowed gracefully to Mr. Elrington, who gave him the note, delivered the lady's message, and informed him that she had written it before she heard of the event of the duel.

"Tell her," said Sir Bedell," that I do not deserve that she should come to me. Oh! Sir, that woman has been more shamefully used than any- -" and he stopped, and asked impatiently for the surgeon. Again he began to speak in a desponding strain." Alas, Sir, what excuse have I to offer, but her fatal beauty! Too true it is

am not able to extract it, it may at length occasion a mortification, and finally death."

-" when the surgeon's arrival induced him to pause. In a few minutes Sir Bedell asked "Is there any danger?"

"Death! Sir," exclaimed Sir Bedell, in renewed alarm; "I thought you said I was safe from death! I am not ready-I believe--I fear I am not fit to die!" Then,

"Very great indeed, Sir," said the practitioner ; I cannot answer for your life for four-and-twenty hours, till I know the direction the bullet has taken."

catching the eye of a gentleman who had been his second in the rencontre, he continued-" I mean, I say, I have not settled my affairs, and I might as well speak to that strange gentleman a few words."

"Then I should wish to have five minutes' conversation with this gentleman in private."

"You, surely, Sir, would not defer a moment," said the medical man, "the means that must be used for the safety of your life!"

"Oh, no, not on any account," replied Sir Bedell.

"Ah! here we have the bullet," continued the surgeon; 66 we shall get it out presently. I must make the incision larger, and introduce the forceps."

The surgeon continued his examination, and at length exclaimed, "I am convinced, Sir, that the bullet has not penetrated into any vital part."

Then Sir," said Sir Bedell, motioning his head to Mr. Elrington," I will not trouble you but with my respects to the lady."

I have nothing further to say to the gentleman," said Sir Bedell," but my very best wishes to the lady, and I think she has acted with very great prudence."

Mr. Elrington left the room, and mentally ejaculated-"This is a man of high fashion and honour, that fights duels, and keeps in alarm all His Majesty's peaceable subjects!! This is the man that all the minor fashionables look up to as a criterion of grace, and spirit, and courage."

"As yet," continued the operator, "the bullet has not penetrated to any vital part; but there is no knowing but that it may quickly be fatal, if I cannot find it; and if I

From this slight specimen it will be seen The Double Trial is not an ordi

nary novel. We regret that our limits do not permit going deeper into it, and cordially recommend it to perusal.

CANTO 17TH OF DON JUAN.--By one who desires to be a Very Great Unknown.*-Lady Blessington relates, that Byron once intended to commit suicide, but was prevented by two reasons, one of which was, that a dear friend might not be able to perpetrate a life of him. There would have been a third dissuasive, could his irascible Lordship have foreseen this publication; or, at any rate, a reason for performing the obsequies of the Don with his own hand. CANTO 17th is made out pretty much in the way one's imagination suggests on laying down Canto 16th. Aurora Raby, and Juan, are deeply in love, of course; and the character of the icy lady is developed with some skill. The Very Great Unknown leaves the lovers in a ticklish situation. Another GREAT UNKNOWN may, therefore, catch up the ball in Canto 18th; and thus Don Juan proceed, like a game at chess between rival kingdoms. Canto 17th is not more remarkable for prudery than its predecessors.

THE DAWN OF FREEDOM.+-A little poem, on a noble subject, is dedicated by a Graduate of Oxford, to the Sovereign People, and written in a spirit new to the learned University, to which its author belongs. A pure vein of exalted religion

Gilbert: London, pp. 48. Ridgway, London, pp. 46.

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