STANLEY BUXTON, OR THE SCHOOLFELLOWS.

IT commonly happens that genius produces its most felicitous ef- fects with an entire unconsciousness of their superiority. When they are pointed out, the author is himself as little aware of the secret of their creation as any one else. A natural result of this is, that the writer too often misjudges his own work, and mis- takes that which flows most easily from his pen as akin to those passages which have attracted the admiration of the world. It must surely be sonic mistake of this kind that has misled Mr.

• GALT, and induced him to publish such a work as Stanley Buxton. It would be nearly impossible for him to write a work in three volumes without a single trait of excellence, but it would appear that he had resolved to show how near he could approach this impossibility. Beyond a shrewd remark or two scattered here and there, and a scene or two tolerably p.ainted, we grieve to say that we must condemn Mr. GALT 'S per- formance in the lump. It hurts us to see that such a man is not writing for fame; or that, if he is, he can, with all his genius, make such an erroneous estimate of hs writings as to suppose that Stanley Buxton will ever contribute to his reputation. We could pardon the improbability and the poor construction of the plot : we would not complain of the absence of events of a strik- ing character : we do not look for these, and are only sorry when Mr. GALT goes out of his way to pick up the rubbish of romance, the monstrosities of a morbid imagination, as he does more than once in Stanley Buxton. Neither are we sorry when lie confines his de- scriptions and characters to persons of an every day complexion : it is in the development of the common traits and peculiarities of the members of ordinary society that he especially excels. But in Stan- ley Buxton, it appears from a short preface, that he has had it in view to make an experiment. "Art," he says," consists in represent- ing fiction as truth, by giving to the creations of fancy the colours and-characteristics of nature. The following story has had this object in view." We should like to know what prose fictions, de- scriptive of society, have not a similar object. It is the object • which Mr. GALT, we apprehend, has always had in view, and in which he generally succeeds. In that respect, he has not failed aeven in Stanley Buxton.. Granted the incidents, it is very like life : such persons would have acted and talked pretty much as he has made them : but, inasmuch as, had they been existent, we should have taken the liberty to cut their acquainta.nce, it is not to be supposed that we should go out of our way to find them in a book or story, after having had the misfortune to fall among such poor company. Stanley Buxton is bred a lord ; but, by means of a scheme, the sole invention of Mr. GALT, he has been changed at nurse ! When arrived at manhood, the discovery is made, and Lord Essington is reduced to a garret in the Temple. There would have been here P congenial task. for Mr. Garis peculiar powers, had he undertaken to show the emancipation of a superiormind fronathe trammels of rank and wealth, and its rise, by means of its own efforts, into thorough independence. But he has been content to make lala hero a mere dreaming hypochondriac ; and,instead of pursuing the natural development of circumstances, connected him with all sorts of mysterious horrors and machinations on the- part of the original perpetrators of the crime of changing him in infancy. The School- fellows are a couple of commonplace persons, who are simply in- vented to carry on a correspondence, and thus inform. the reader of the transactions which are the subject of it. One of them is a Scotch laird,—for the purpose of introducing Scotch scenes and Scotch dialect; and the other is a London merchant,—who is placed amidst the events themselves, that he may narrate them to his schoolfellow, who has no earthly connexion with them. Though their characters, lives, and loves, are fully developed, we confess that we have not been able to detect one single reason why such creations should be called from the vasty deep of the author's fancy. The Scotch village, of course, con- tains a manse, a school, and a laird's house ; but in what these and their owners differ from fifty others that the author has de- scribed before,—except that they are more stupid, and that in the course of the account of them we meet with more trash than the author's usual allowance,—we seek to learn in vain. This is, how- ever, the scene of Mr. Gala's best exertions ; and it is in this line of life, and perhaps in this line only, that he does not " spin the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.' For GALT has not only as much to say about a riband as a Raphael, but is much more at home in the haberdasher's shop than in the picture-gallery. From this part alone can we collect any of those pleasant little touches of truth and nature, of a peculiar and homely complexion, in which one of the main excellencies of this author lies. The person in whom we confess the greatest interest of all the popula- tion of MT. GALT'S new town, is Miss Sibby Ruart, a maiden housekeeper, and a distant relative of the Laird. Her character is one of those pieces of humour and nature which none but GALT can draw : our only complaint is, that he has drawn so many of them. She is thus introduced—

Ralston, on his return to Gowans from England, took possession of his inhe- ritance in an easy, quiet manner, congenial to his good-natured character.

The household, during the latter years of the old ' Laird, his father, had, from the death of his mother, been ruled by a regency, in the person of Miss Sibby Ruart, a distant relation. Possessed of many commendable qualities, in addi- tion to a blithe rummaging, and scolding hostility to all sorts of domestic negli- gence, she prided herself on making, at the shortest notice, a " meconomy din- ner of cold meat, with only a blandishment of her own sauce." This she called her stroke of genius, not very well knowing what the term meant ; but she had once been a winter in Edinburgh, and much among the Athenian blues, from whom she learned that phrase, and guessed that it implied excellence. Ralston saw that it would essentially contribute to his own comfort not to disturb the existing administration of his household affairs, and Miss Silky was accordingly continued in office, and in all the plenitude of her prerogatives ; which Mrs. Reale, the Minister's wife, when she saw him, extolled as the best proof he could give of his sagacity till he got a wife. " Then," said she, "there must be an alteration : but really Miss Sibby has such an expedient, that yell never miss the want of a leddy, if ye can conform to her frugalities."

Little did Mrs. Keckle suspect, when she uttered that sentence, she was -speaking the predictions of prophecy, for in the end it so fell out that Ralston found all his yeas and his nays so strictly and so well consulted, and sojudiciously attended to by Miss Sibby, that he saw no possible need of a wife in his estab- lishment, but only cause to apprehend that, perhaps, a Mrs. Ralston might prove the mother of—what Miss Sibby called children—anarchy and confusion.

The characteristics of Miss Sibby are excessive curiosity, con- siderable shrewdness, good-humour when pleased, and no little spite when her vanity is offended : many shades of a more delicate character are only to be brought out by the details of the author. The arrival of a letter in the village, either to the Master of the " Semindary " or the Minister, from their Southron connexions, is a great event; such a one has befallen when Miss Sibby, as is described in the following passage, sallies forth to learn its con- tents— The Laird was in the field, in arms against the partridges, by break of day ; and Miss Sibby, a full hour before her wonted time, had rung her bell and ordered breakfast, dressed for the intended visit.

"The day is overcast, and it threatens rain," said she apprehensively to the kettle-bearer, as she infused the tea, throwing at the same time a glance at the window and the landscape beyond, where the shadows of the September clouds were swiftly in succession coursing over it; and, as she replaced the ca- nister in the tea-chest, and the spoon with which she lifted the fragrant herb back in her own saucer, she threw another inquiring look at the window, adding, "Set the umbrella ready, and my pattens at the door, for I fear the roads are dubby."

She then engaged herself, with rather more than her usual activity, in the decomposition of the breakfast ingredients, and was soon on the path across the bean-field which led from the house of Gowans to the village.

The appearance of Miss -Sibby was in accordance with the occasion, the localities of the place, and the character of the weather. She had obviously some business in hand, for, when the path allowed, she took off her pattens and carried them, which showed that she was impelled by a haste that would not brook a dainty picking of her steps. Her bonnet was not her best ; its church,- going days were over, and it was adorned with washen ribands, of a dark lilac- colour, dyed with ink. Nor was her shawl the beautiful yellow cashmere that her cousin the Colonel sent.from India, but an imitation from the Paisley looms. —a handsomer pattern, however, though only of cotton, Her gown was an Irish: ruby-coloured poplin, which had belonged to,her. ntother, .brought again info vogue by ever-revolving fashion. It looked quite as well as a morme at a distance, and in the country every one does that know the difference between that stuff and a poplin. -When Miss Sibby was half-way moss the field, the skirt of a showery squall met her full in the face wadi obliged her to spread the umbrella, and, to mount her pattens. It required, indeed, both valour of heart and strengthd of hand, to push the umbrella agaithst the.Aind, which, son etjrnes a little overly obstrepernual,

tirled up and meddled with Miss Sibby's sacred petticoats in the most unruly manner. However, she reached the stile at the end of the field after a hard struggle ; but in mounting to step over into the road, the blast lost all shame, and Mr. Palmer's boys, happening to be passing to school, seeing her standing on the Mile like a full-blown tulip, her hems above the bows of her bonnet, gave a li- centious shout at the eight of her affliction. Thus it came to pass, that when she reached the academy house, with the two trees and parterre in front, she With in such a state of agitation, occaeioned by the irreverent blast and brats, as by breathless panting, haste, terror, and outraged modesty, to be for some time unable to execute the purposes of her visit.

When at her disturbance had subsided, Mrs. Palmer said that it was ex- traordinary she should have ventured abroad in such a dap "We have not," said the mistress, "had such blowy weather this season before ; it's a foretaste of winter."

"It was a fine breezy morning when I left the Gowans," replied Miss Sibby, "and I just came out to get the air about me." " And ye have gotten that, I trow," said Mrs. Palmer with a laugh, "for I saw your topsy-turvy on the stile."

"Really your laddies ought to be punished, Mrs. Palmer. I'm sure you have a sore time o't with such ramplors--they're no now like the douce callans of auld lang syne, when our Laird was one of your flock, with that fine stirring boy Harry Franks the Londoner. Do you know he's now learning trade with his father n London ?"

"It was always so intended by the old gentleman," replied Mrs. Palmer ; " but we have heard nothing concerning him for years." "That I never doubt: Loudon is a place where the memory does not keep mark, as ye have had an experience in your own sister, Mrs. Howard. She's really void of naturality never to write you." "Oh, greatly to our amazement, we had a letter from her yesterday." "No' possible! And what does she say for herself? how can she ever think yell forgive her long silence?"

The next scene, which we give without abridgement, arises out of a vain attempt at wooing a young English lady on a visit in the village, and who was said to possess twenty thousand pounds. Miss Sibby had been a strenuous supporter of the match, and was not a little indignant at the failure of her scheme. But the young lady, on hearing of the death of a rival, in England, in another affair of the heart, had precipitately deserted the retired village of Green-Knowes and, its apathetic laird, to take the field in a more active quarter— The lugubrious mornings whieh we have described, as deforming the banks

i of the Thames, and saddening the environs of the metropolis, were, n the rural purlieus of Green-Knowes, bright, bracing, and beautiful. A sharp frost gemmed the snowy ground with brilliancy ; and in those spaces of the lake and river frozen subsequent to the snow, the sheeted ice glowed like a glassy mirror to the unclouded sun. The dogs barked shriller than usual, and the village bell, in the calm of the dazzling day, sounded clearer and wider ; the hoofs of the traveller's horse on the distant highway often rang like cymbals on the frozen adamant, and the ponderous waggon descending the hill gritted with a dry and piercing sound. The day after Miss Sibby's visit to the Manse, the parlour fire in the mansion- house of Gowaus burned briskly, tinted with a vivid bluish flame, and the tea- kettle discharged a column of vapour, with a jocund, singing din, that would have done honour to the vigour ot a steam-engine ; she was herself standing at the window, and what she was doing there, was speedily made manifest to her kinsman, as he sat near her by the fireside. "Come, Laird," said she, "and look; here's the post-chaise hurling from the Manse door, with Miss Sorn and Mrs. Howard trintling away to London town : my word, they have not been long packing up their ends and their awls. However, we have both reason to be thankful that we are so soon and so well quit of that glaiked daffodil, even with her twenty thousand pounds." "I don't,' replied the Laird, "altogether agree with you, Miss Sibby, that the parish will be any the better for not keeping the latter item amongst us."

"Counting by money," replied Miss Sibby, 'I'll not controvert that; but if ye reflect that she's an Englisher, a pack that stuff themselves with high-living, roast beef, plum-pudding, and strong beer every day, with the addition of salt fish when they fast, yell come partly round before long to my way of thinking. As for their private character, look at the crim.-cons. anti Bow Streets in the newspapers ; I wonder, Laird, how your father's son could ever so demean him- self as to cast a sheep's-eye at one of them."

" Softly, Miss Sibby," replied the Laird ; "was it not yourself that put the notion first into my head?" " Oh ! did you think I was in earnest?" "I'm sure," said the Laird emphatically, "that ye pointed out to me in a very clear manner, that the Waster estate would soon be brought to safe, and that twenty thousand pounds would go far to buy it." "And would not twenty thousand pounds, Laird? Truly how mistakes will rise! So, ye have thought of Miss Sorn, when I was but, in a delicate man- ner, thinking only of a sum of money equal to her fortune; but not that 'would, Laird, have objected to your marrying Miss, had ye been obstinately inclined ; but since ye were lukewarm, it would ill have become me to instigate you to make your market with such kittle-cattle."

"Well, Miss Sibby, every man has his fate in this world; and it is quite clear that if marriages are made in heaven, the recording angel has not booked Miss Sorn and me.

"That would be a comely and resigned sentiment, Laird, had she been what ye thought her; but I must say that I had a scruple of conscience concerning her from the very beginning. Only think of a young lady, a doctor's daughter, coming down with her heel in her neck, from a foreign country, after a young man that snapped his fingers in her face ! " "No, no, Miss Sibby, lie was not so rude as that." "Then what did he do to her that night when there was such a stramash in the avenue with his mother and her, and she came skirling and yelling like a demented cat to the house, as to a city of refuge?" "It is very true," replied the Laird, "that something then took place, and you are well aware that I thought he had behaved rudely." "And so thought she of you, Laird, when you and she fell out about writing to her father."

"That, however, might, no doubt, have been made up, had it been handled with discretion."

"Well, I never heard the like of that ; did I not handle it myself?"

"That I too well know, Miss Sibby ; but ye have never yet explained to me bow • just saying in the heat in which you came home, that she's past advice." "And is she not? Didn't I hear her say such things that the very hair on my head stood up like the back of a hurchion?"

"She did, however, I think, Miss Sibby, some good to you that cold morn- ing, for there is nothing so apt to make man or woman walk fast as a smart pas- sion; and certainly you came home in a great heat."

"And would it not," said Miss Sibby, "put any demure Christian WORM/ in a passion to hear a base scout, when we were all cordially communing to bring about a purpose of marriage—Ill no say with whom—give a screech like the howlet of the tree, or rather a Jezebel skirl, when she heard of the death of a fine young lady ?"

"Sow, Miss Sibby," said the Laird, "this is not gospel."

" It's truth though." "And who was that young lady, and what made Miss Sorn skirl to hear of her death ?"

"What makes the wind blow, Laird ? was it not her own free will? though it made me blush."

" Was that the reason, then, Miss Sibby, that you so exhorted me to have no- thing to do with her?" "I would think, Laird," said Miss Sibby, seating herself at the breakfast,. table, for hitherto she had been standing, "that in this case ye would be on sincerity with me ; and, therefore, I say that ye ought to be content with what I have told you, and not joke or jeer, for may be it's only out of delicacy that I keep my thumb on what was said of you." " I never was more sincere, nor would it seem had greater cause, Miss Ruart, when I now learn that my character, through your instrumentality, was left at the mercy of so many ravenous wotnen." "Laud, Laird, that is a frantic speech. My instrumentality ! do ye know what an instrumentality is?" "Not in this particular case, I must confess." "Then I'll enlighten your understanding ; an instrumentality is an agent, or an oracle of the vulgar sort, that prowls about ill neighbouthoods ; and when sm appointed me to court the young lady for you, and I found in conscience that I ought not to persevere, I never expected to hear from your lips such a word as instrumentality." "Miss Sibby," said the Laird with a laugh, seeing her becoming really ex- cited, "you would bamboozle a Presbytery. Pour out the tea; you know that it's your part to keep me in all sorts of hot water." " And yours," replied Miss Sibby, with a sob, "is to call me an instrumen- tality." " Conic, come, say no more about it," cried the Laird, "don't vex yourself; there is only a little difference between us in the sense of the word." "Really, 'Mr. Ralston, that's making the peace at the expense of my judg- ment; now, do you think that you can overcome me about the meaning of such a common word ? but drowning men catch at straws, and I forgive you." "You may do so, Miss Ruart, but I know not that I should forgive yon: where shall we find twenty thousand pounds in this parish, and a fair young lady to the bargain?" To this puzzler Miss Sibby looked with ineffable contempt, and said, "Your father, my hid, haul more spirit." "How does that apply to the matter in hand ? " "Are ye speaking of the toast, Laird ? that's in yours." " Well, Miss Sibby, they'll have supple wits that get the whip-hand of you." " None of your fleeching, Mr. Ralston ; I have had an experience this morn- ing that will teach me how I make or meddle with a ravelled hank, especially after doing my best to right it." " And what was that, Miss Sibby ? for unless you tell me, how can I be grateful?" "I never thought," replied Miss Sibby, taking out her handkerchief and shaking it two or three times, and then applying it to her eyes, "to have been upbraided in this manner—oh, oh, oh ! "

This person, with all her indignation at being called an "in- strumentality," is by no means incapable of acting with real feel- ing and a most graceful resignation to the afflictions of life; an inconsistency quite true to nature. She might be ignorant in the acquirements of scholastic education, but everybody goes to the school of the heart, and, before he or she is very old, knows all its learning.

If we were asked who of all the writers of fiction of the present day combined the greatest power of genius with the greatest un- certainty in its exercise, we should name Mr. GALT : it is an even chance whether he writes for immortality or the trunkmaker. Were Lieutenant DRITAIMODiD employed to make a list which should show authors in the compound ratio of great success and decided failure, the name of GALT would be found at the head.