PHEMIE miLLIB. * IN order to sustain attention to a minute
description and develop- ment of character, that character must possess great strength as well as singularity in itself, or be involved in events of some depth as well as passion, or exhibit some moral peculiarity from which the reader may draw a lesson. Whether this can be done natu- rally, or whether as a class of novels it is worth the doing, we do not undertake to decide. Let it suffice to say that Phemie llfiller does not fulfil the required conditions essential to its school of fic- tion. The heroine, Phemie, has not sufficient strength of charac- ter she is engaged in too narrow a sphere, and with incidents of too common not to say feeble a kind, to excite interest at the extent to which they are elaborated : she has weaknesses both mental and moral, which, though they may not be derogatory to a young woman, are inconsistent in a heroine whose thoughts, feelings, and doings, we are required to follow through three volumes. A sort of attempt is made to give a moral interest to Phemie, but it is imperfectly developed. Her character is that of a romantic school-girl, with a substratum of goodness to be deve- loped through trouble and her affections. As the daughter of a prosperous business man in a small Scotch fishing town she has a peculiarity and raciness from her position, which the more trite and familiar nature of English life would want. The half-childish love for a young medical prig—the mischievous flirtation on Phemie's part with a young Highlander, Niel Farquharson—her real passion for a genius of humble life who is struggling as an artist, but whose character is rather distasteful than otherwise— are too essentially commonplace for attraction. The strength and determination of Niel have interest, but this is apart from Phemie.
It might be held that the public has latterly had too many de- lineations of humble or middle Scottish life without anything very striking in the circumstances or the persons, and that _Menne Millar may pall a little from repetition. Domestic details, shop- ping particulars, the persons, and the tittle-tattle of a small sea-
rt., unquestionably occupy too large a space. Still it is in the ttish life, and the strength as well as raciness of its character, that the interest of this novel consists. In that point of view, it is remarkable for the variety of its conceptions and the truth of its delineations. Every leading person—and the leading persona are numerous—is distinct and individual, with the national character- istics clearly marked, but net pushed to the extent of mannerism or made to overlay the personal idiosyncrasy. Mr. Millar, the energetic and successful architect of his own fortunes, whom pros- perity has neither spoiled nor vulgarized—his helpmate, more economical, more narrow in view, and less openly genial in dis- position than her worldly-experienced husband, but with great depth of family affection—and Bob Millar, the eldest son, a shy, strong-willed, obstinate, and selfish North-country nature, yet with redeeming points, which adversity brought on by paternal differ- ences develops—are instances of nice observation and skilful de- lineation. Other persons, who more or less bear a part in the everyday occurrences that form the action or episodes of the no- vel—are all truthful portraits, and interesting for their lifelike traits. Even Phemie, when her peculiarities are put aside, and she
• Phemie Miller. By the Author of The Rinneare." In three volumes. Pub- lished by Hurst and Blackett.
mixes among the other persons of Craiginch as Miss Millar, forms a good enough representative of the Scottish lassie. The homely events of the story are varied by more public matters. A few ships leave Craiginch for the Greenland whale-fishery, but the prosperity of the town depends upon the herring and mackerel fisheries. The bustle and economy of these trades, and sometimes the losses connected with them, give relief and occasionally a deeper interest. Here'is an example. Two young men have been lost by the wreck of a boat. Phemie and her younger sister are sent to visit the bereaved families. On quitting a betrothed young wo- man, the girls proceed to a grave old couple of the Covenanter stamp.
"Phemie Millar's tap and low inquiry were marks of consideration, from a quarter for which Nelly Wemysa had an unenvious, old-world respect : besides, although her equals had not comprehended the fact, great sorrows break down artificial barriers and distinctions, that the bleeding heart of man may, in a measure, be bound up and strengthened by his fellow mortals. "The Wemyas's house was smaller and poorer than the Ronalds', who were in very comfortable circumstances; but it was infinitely cleaner, and more orderly ; and not even in this saddest day in her history had Nelly neglected to arrange her chairs in their usual places, and wipe down her deal table, and sweep her hearth scrupulously. Very frugal was the meal of pease bannoeks and milk, awaiting the return of the master of the house, that he might reverently lift up his toil-worn hand, and call down a blessing upon it before it should be eaten. Phemie did not know that it had re- mained thus untouched since morning.
"Poor Nelly Wemyss, hers was a greater than common mother's loss, having the convulsive shock of an accident, its object an only son, with his sisters married and settled at a distance, so that he was sole child left to gladden her sober household. Still Nelly was calm : her withered cheek was very pale, and her eyes dim ; but even when she named him her bonnie laddie,' her youngest, and told that she had refused to believe the rumour of the boat having foundered, and although Wattie was sore troubled on his son's account, she had employed herself only on the preceding evening, in case of his sudden return, in preparing the bed, where he would never more lie : she made a great effort, and preserved a decent composure : but when Phemie Millar mentioned her husband's name, her firmness was shaken and threatened to give way.
" Oh, Miss Millar, I'm sair trysted we' his father ; my mind has nae peace about Wattie.'
"'Surely, Nelly, so good a man will not refuse to take comfort.'
"' Na, it's no that ; it's because he's sae gude, he thinks we've nae richt to cry out, an' that it's for our bairn's honour to be teen first, and that we're bund to set an example o' faith to the unregenerate world : an' he's put on his Sab- bath-day's class, an' been aff to the meetin, and sat out the hale diet, an' he's to come hame by the bents wi' the cruel waves again afore his een. I hope I can consent to gie back to the Lord the gude loan he lent for three-an'- twenty years, an' trust my laddie to his mercy : but ve ken, Miss Millar, at the best we're doited, wake servants, and we're no forbidden to mum.' "While Nelly spoke, Wattie's step was heard crossing the threshold : its firmness was gone, and he carried a staff; but a vivid light burnt in his grey eyes, and flashed over his rugged, weather-beaten features. Phemie had been wont to hold him in some awe, as a severe-looking and very taciturn old man ; but today he addressed her frankly.
" ' How's a' wi' ye the day, Miss Millar ? this is kind to come an' spear for the auld wife, ower frail to tak the privileges o' the sanctuary ; or, may be, you're come to wish us joy o' our bairn, safe at last within the golden gates o' the eternal city. Fates that we were, to seek to keep him here, i' the reek o our laigh biggin " Oh ! Wattie, my man, gin ye wad bit gie in to our miafortin—gin ye wad but suffer yoursell to mum !'
"'Had yer tongue this minute, Nelly Laird : were my bairn livin, and grown a ne'er-do-weel, like Lowrie Livison or Jack Swan, I micht has co- vered my face for glory departed and sin wrought in Israel ; but the lad was iver a gude, God fearin' lad—a credit to his house; an' here, whar I stan, kennin him to be cauld an' stiff this day, I can say that he niver cost me a grain o' sorrow or care. He was the Lord's by covenant, frae the hour o' his birth ; he lived to ratifee the vow ; and, as far as man can see, grew up in his knowledge and fear, an heir o' grace, as weel as a pleasant and honest bairn. I doubtna he has entered into heaven : an' ye wad threep wi' me to sit down and greet that Wat has already weathered the could blasts o' time, an' becks i' the clear licht o' the gude land. Na, na ; I ken better; I'm a happy as weal's a proud man this hour.'
" Yer shakin sae that ye can hardly stan'—yer hands are as cauld as ice ; and wha will pu' the oar, noo that yer back's failin—or come in wi his cheery cracks at nicht, when we sit down i' the ingle-neuk—or wha will lay our auld dune heads alow the green turf, sin he's gene first ? '
" 'I care na ; my laddie was leal to me, an' I'll be the same to him. Wo- man, its brawer than his bridal our security o' his entrance into glory. Ye wad bee been uplifted could ye has seen or heard o' him wearing an' earthly crown wi' its thorns an' its snares ; will ye hae nae conceit o' him castin a hivenly ane at the feet o' his master ? Aye; he took James an' John frae their faither's nets, an' countit them worthy to tread in his fitsteps. Mind that, Miss Millar ; gin ony mortal durst brag, a fisher might think inuckle o' his trade. When Wet was a callant, we were out thegither ainoe, nae storm in the lift, but the boat floatin in on a ripplin tide. He said to me, " Faither, its gran' to believe this lyin i' the hollow o' His han." He mindit that when the surge filled the boat, an' rose a driftin mountain alma his head : he saw Him welkin' yet ower the dark water, haudin out the grip o' his richt han' to perishin' men. Wha waldna bide a tossin to find that support, and enter the swellins' o' the Jordan, when theoys o' the long- promised inheritance are in his glazin ee an' failin ear ? It wad set ye bet- ter, Nelly, than seekin the laddie back again, that ye wad pray that, gin the Almighty saw fit, we twa useless grey-haired cumberers o the ground micht be sane allowed to follow him. Gude e'en, Miss Millar, mony thanks; I wuss for you an' yours, that ye may aye bear as stout an' licht heart as I do this nicht.'
"Jeannie stood trembling in the flickering fire-light, listening to the strange triumph in Wattie Wemyss's high-pitched voice, thinking him to fearsome man,' and earnestly desiring that Phemie might come away ' home before it got darker. " Phemie's heart beat loud and fast : she dared not reply to Watty Wemyss, but she never forgot his holy heroism ; and many a time in after life, both .in solitude and society, she pondered upon its lofty accents, the music of paradise, too grand for lips untouched with a coal from God's altar to join in the sacred melody."
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