Sons of Dives. 2 vols. (S. Tinsley.)—There is nothing specially
remarkable about this novel except, perhaps, the English, which is uncommonly bad. It is hardly worth while to fill up even a few lines with a specimen, but, for once in a way, the reader shall see the sort of thing that finds not only a publisher—that is easily accounted for—but also, it is to be presumed, a public :— " Isabel had never known, had never witnessed, any strong natural feeling. The cautious, hurried proposal, whispered in a ball-room from a face tutored to hide its emotion from the couple standing near, or from the watchful eye of a chaperone [it would seem that the pro- posal might come either from the face of the admirer or from the eye of the chaperone]; or else perhaps abruptly jerked out in the ride, where for a few minutes the adorer could contrive to rein his horse by the side of his goddess, out of hearing of the rest of his party (and eur Isabel was only allowed to ride with a chosen set of friends, with the old coachman in attendance), had sometimes for tho moment capti- vated her fancy, but had failed hitherto to touch her heart, if she had one; and when dutifully recounted to her mother, had been dismissed according to order, -with a few courteous but formal lines, and the victim was forgotten almost as soon as he -was dropped out of the ranks of admirers, where another was soon ready to fill up the vacancy."
The characters are of the common types ; match-making mother, money-lender who makes a most fearful end, being shut up in his treasure-vault, and scrawling these last words, "I have eaten—my candles—the last is going out" [going down, we presume the author -meant to write] ; an angel-daughter, a villanous suitor who comes -nobody knows whence and contrives to get the entree into good society, a darling young officer, a pale, gentlemanly trooper, who performs pro- digies of valour, and turns out of course to be a gentleman in disguise,— but why go through the list of puppets ? We all know them, and on this occasion they are neither very brilliantly draped nor very briskly moved. Here is a "Jenkins" touch in a description of a widow:—" The heavy folds of black fell round a form as grand and faultless as ever."
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