SELECTED FICTIONS.

THE economists tell us that wherever there is a demand there will be a supply—if not of the genuine article, it should be added, of something which passes instead. Let there be a demand for old

coins, old coins will be ' forthcoming; • so on of pictures, of auto- graphs and, it would seem from a late hubbub, of letters and ma- terials for biography. The invention of circulating libraries, or rather the appetite for fiction which makes circulating libraries pay, has for the last half-century or more produced a crop of novels as regularly as any other supply in the market; and, in spite of the cheap reprints of such notions as will bear reprinting after their season is over, the demand has increased, and is increasing.

One consequence of this incessant production is distastefulness as regards fictions in those who of necessity have many con- tinually coining before them. 'Where there is great general merit— (which, however, is rare, for our best novelists have died out)— or where there is some partial merit arising from a partial faculty in the writer, or from circumstances having given him some special field of observation—or where it is a first appearance in that field— an effort is made to keep up with the pace of publications. Where these qualities are not suspected or perceived at once, three-volume novels are apt to accumulate, especially when they come in multi- tudes, and works of greater mark and interest are demanding at- tention. Hence there are always arrears of novels, as of Chancery- suits, with this distinction—that few modern novels will keep. From a batch before us we have endeavoured to make a selec- tion of such as have the feature of novelty, or have a special character of some kind to distinguish them from the mass of con- ventional imitations, though hardly enough to enable them to stand alone. Of these the features of Adrian are its peculiar scene and its duplicate authorship; of Hearts and Altars, the literary clever- ness and worldly observation of Mr. Bell ; the raciness of Ireland does something for The Militia Major ; the characteristic of The Student's Wife is elegance of style.

ADRIAN, OR THE CLOUDS OF TUE MIND.* " THE Clouds of the Mind" chiefly refer to a prejudice entertain- ed by the hero, Adrian Brewerton, in favour of gentle birth. As the scene is laid in New England some time after the Revolution, the son of an American Loyalist and scion of a noble English house is mostly obliged to keep his thoughts to himself, and digest his aristocratic notions as well as he can. Through a conjuncture of circumstances which form the first part of the story, Adrian marries Ella Keelson, apparently the daughter of a fisherman ; the hero's love overcoming his prejudices. Ella, however, dis- covers them accidentally ; and being exceedingly sensitive, she determines to leave her husband, in order that she may remove from him all sense of "degradation." This elopement causes a great deal of trouble, but it is a means of changing Adrian's opi- nions, and giving him a well-born wife ; Keelson having been a

i

gentleman n disguise' and taken to the trade of a fisherman owing to a disgust with his family and society in general. This disgust has been produced by villany ; and in the effort to consummate the villany, as well as in its detection and punishment, the story of the romance proper consists. .A.merican scenery and the philosophical remarks of the writers give some freshness to the more level portion of the tale, especially as regards college life in the States towards the earlier part of the century. The incidents and persons of the romance are not very new. The circumstance of a well-born heroine or hero appearing in an humble position is as old as tale-writing; but the motive for the disguise in Adrian is less feasible than usual. The most sin- gular thing is the want of a sound moral lesson in a fiction in- tended to be didactic. Error on this point is indeed common to all novelists who place the obstacle to true love in humble or ille- gitimate birth—they allow nothing for the influence of circum- stances. Blood is powerful in matters of health and constitution, and probably has an effect on the disposition". The influence of habiti.education, companions, and the minute circumstances of daily life that form the manners and character' are quite inde- pendent of blood. Both are obvious to judgment, and remain just as they were before the discovery is made in fiction. Yet such is the force of prejudice, that those who write to correct it yield to it. Persons brought up in a particular sphere cannot be other than they are, let their birth be what it may; yet a discovery prepared Adrian, or the Clouds of the Mind ; a Romance. By G. P. R. James, Esq., and samisen B. Field, Esq. In two volumes. Published by T. and W. Boone.

beforehand removes every objection with the most scrupulous. The present Chancellor of the Exchequer, though writing to amalga- mate classes, yet made his humble heroine Sybil a real heiress to a vast estate, which a lord and a lawyer were keeping her out of.

The titlepage intimates that this work is the production of two writers ; and the preface states that "each has contributed as nearly as possible an equal portion with the other to the work, and that there is not a chapter—not a page—in the whole book on which each hand and each mind has not laboured." It is added that the curious reader who may endeavour to discover what parts belong to either author will probably be mistaken : and we think so ; the homogeneousness is remarkable.

This description of Adrian's difficulties in furnishing his house, will give an idea of the manner: in substance the difficulties are not peculiar to America; they will be met wherever competition. has not trained people to punctuality and attention.

"His impatience met with many salutary cheeks. The American people are the most patient in the world ; and they are quite right to be so, for they will get no one to move a step faster, fret they ever so fretfully. But Adrian was of an impatient spirit, and now he was getting his drubbing— that drubbing which is so necessary to every young man in life, from the hard fat cudgel of the world, against which there is no shield—no striking

ag`aiinihe upholsterer received his orders, and took them down in a book. He received his money also, and gave a receipt for it ; for Adrian thought that slippery metal gold would grease the go-cart of the upholsterer's upholstery. He was very much mistaken, however. The good man guessed that it was a long way to send the things ; that his horses and carts had a great deal to do just then ; that if Adrian had been but three days sooner he could have sent them more easily ; and when the young gentleman entreated him, as he had never entreated man before, and never entreated woman in his life, the only reply he got was, 'Waal, I guess I can send them out the week after next.'

"The secret of all this was, that at that time there existed but one up- holsterer in the place. Rushing away from the shop, he hurried to a man who let carts and horses, agreed to pay an enormous price for the carriage of his furniture, and got it all over to his proposed dwelling-place—with two legs upon every table, and three upon most of the chairs. Some, indeed, like the old soldier, 'had but one leg, and that was a wooden one.' It need hardly be mentioned that the crockery was a mash. "Next came the evils of the cabinetmaker and joiner. No need not dwell upon them ; but what between guessing upon broken tables, and cal- culating upon rotten doors, they well nigh drove Adrian Brewerton mad. "His last trouble before entrance was with the cook. He had a great many who came to see him, in answer to his advertisement; but with most

of them, it was evidently a cook's choice of a master' not a master's choice of a cook. One did not like to go so far into the country, and declined at once. One actually accepted the situation, went out, saw the house, came back again, and brought her box with her. Another—an awful old mulatto wo- man—was affected by more human considerations: she inspected Adrian very closely, and then said she guessed she should not like to hdp so young MM.

"'My good woman, you would not be in the slightest danger,' replied. Adrian, and civilly showed her to the door."

HEARTS AND ALTARS*

Is very inferior to The Ladder of Gold by the same author, and scarcely does justice to his reputation. The title is indicative of almost anything save what is to be found in the book,—unless it be that some of the dramatis personte either marry where they de not love or cannot marry where they do ; but nothing like the ob- vious suggestion of some fashionable marriage, where the heart. goes not to the altar, will be found. Mr. Bell admits the necessity of a "little explanation" in the matter ; which he gives thus— the title "has been adopted for no better reason than simply be- came it is elastic and comprehensive, and applies with sufficient appropriateness to the different train#of narrative that constitute the substance of the following pages."

The work consists of six tales. "Phantoms and Realities" is a revised reprint from Fraser's Magazine. "The Armourer of Munster" is founded on the rising of the Anabaptists in 1534; and. mingles their usual atrocities and some historical personages with a love-story, in which the absent lover is thwarted by his fanatical or hypocritical leader. The other four tales are brief and slight, not differing much in character from annual or magazine stories.

In point of elaboration, "idea," and strangeness if not originality, "Phantoms and Realities" is the most remarkable of the set. The story in the first part is supernatural, in the latter part fantastic and improbable; but it is neither in a mutual passion founded on a sort of second-sight, or in a dwarf suggesting the "Black Dwarf" of Scott, and a forced marriage through the influence of this dwarf over the lady's father, that the value of the story consists. The union, only took place on a promise that it should not be consum- mated; and to this the lady, called Astrea, rigidly adheres, the parties living separately as if unmarried. 'Under these circum- stances, the autobiographical hero meets Astrea ; a passion ensues; and when the real state of affairs is discovered, it is too late for the gentleman to retract. The whole story is too outre and unlikely to serve as a warning, and the moral pointed is got at by inference. Still, the misery that follows a connexion unauthorized by the opinion of society, no matter what the excusatory circumstances or the high feelings of the persons, is so clearly impressed, that "Phantoms and Realities" conveys a very useful lesson, although in a roundabout way. As the scenes are laid among existing society, they furnish opportunity for obiter dicta and passing sketches which argue observation of life. This sketch of a sort of club into which the hero got admission on his first coming to London, after a solitary education under a strange and superstitions mother, and with a fortune inferior to.,his birth and aspirations, may be taken as an example.

• Hearts and Altars. By Robert Bell, Author of "The Ladder of Gold," "Way- side Pictures," &c. In three volumes. Published by Colburn and Co. "At that time the church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields was buried in amass of dingy building's, which, clustering up about it on all sides, blotted it out from the sun. 'These buildings were intersected by numerous courts and passages, and in one of them there was a retired tavern frequented by a few persons, mostly of an intellectual caste—artists, musicians, authors; men of high aspirations, but whom Fortune never seemed weary of persecuting, and who met here of an evening to compare notes and vent their complaints against the world. This was exactly the sort of company that fell in with my tastes. It was a satisfaction to me to herd with disappointed men, and hear them rail at the prosperity which refused to crown their merits. Their failures in life had given a peculiar turn to their minds, and tinged their conversation with a spirit of fatalism. They were one and all clearly con- vinced that it was in vain to struggle against destiny—that no genius, how- ever original or lofty, could secure its legitimate rewards by legitimate means —and that, in short, the only individuals really deserving of success were those who by a perverse dispensation of laurels, never could attain it. This view of the wrongs and injustice which they suffered from society stirred up much pride and bitterness amongst them, and led them into many abstract disquisitions, which were rendered attractive to me, no less by the nature of the topics they selected, than by the piquancy and boldness with which they

dissected them. • •

"I was passing through a date of transition from the seclusion in which my faculties had been kept dormant, into a section of society which was eminently calculated to awaken and sharpen them for use. I was already getting into a habit of reasoning with myself, of trying to trace effects to causes, and of examining with suspicion many things which I had hitherto taken upon trust. At first I committed numerous blunders, and fell into all sorts of mistakes, in my eagerness to emulate the cleverness of the ex- perienced individuals with whom I was in the habit of associating. And I could not have dropped upon a clique better qualified or disposed to ride roughshod over the whole region of romance. They were generally practical men, and some of them were worldly men ; for although not one of them was able to do anything for himself, they were all adepts in the knowledge of what other people ought to do. They looked with supreme contempt upon sentimental people and took infinite pleasure in running them down. They were not the sort of men to be tricked by appearances or claptrap. They despised finery, and ostentation, and outside manners. They loved to look at things as they were, and to call them by their proper names; never by any accident overrating an excellence, but very frequently ex- aggerating a defect, which they considered as an error on the right side. In this severe school I acquired a few harsh practical views of life, and was beginning to feel its realities growing up about me."

THE MILITIA MAJOR*

DErTers the oppressions of the Irish landlords of the second-rate kind when they had greater influence at "the Castle" than they have now, when public opinion was not quite so powerful, and Tory notions of government were rampant. The hero for this ob- ject is Major Power, a "broth of a boy" for " activity " as a ma- gistrate, exacting tyranny towards his own tenants or the peasant- ry in general, and utter unscrupulousness in his tools or his means provided they forward his purposes. The estate which the Major rules with a rod of iron is, however, not his own. It belongs of right to his grand-niece, Amy O'Brien ; left under his guardianship by her father, who goes wandering about the world in search of distinction. To kill or otherwise dispose of Amy, in spite of her lover, Gerald Fitzgerald, is therefore an aim of the Major ; and the incidents flowing from this object, his cruelties towards the people, with the consequent riots, conspiracies, and what not—and the love of his daughter, Agnes Power, for an English officer—form the serious part of the novel. There is no lack of ludicrous topics, after the usual Irish fashion; a husband-hunting mother and daughter, with the officers of a marching regiment, an Irish lover of one of the young ladies, and a brother full of mischief, form the principal persons of the comedy or farce. The materials of the novel are good enough, if not very new ; but the author has hardly turned them to the best account, at least as regards the higher class of persons. It may be remarked that it seems easier to paint the humbler classes of society than those above them, as well as to find striking yet at the same time appropriate incidents, in which to display the persons to advan- tage. This is especially the 'case with Ireland. Writers whose heroes, heroines, and respectable people, are really very flat, and the events connected with them insipid, can yet effectively strike off a scene with "the finest peasantry" for lusters. So it is with the author of The Militia Major. The appeal of the dispossessed wife to Major Power on behalf of her husband and family—the ejection of the tenantry by the orders and in the presence of the same worthy, and various incidents in which the people figure— are racy in character and not without interest in action. The manes connected with the gentry class are dull, and expanded into much ado about nothing ; an effect to which the diffuse description of the writer not a little contributes.

The following exhibits the denouement. Everything seems going on to the Major's content : he is looked up to as a resolute and active magistrate ; he has buried his wife ; his daughter is out on a visit; he has secured his niece Amy O'Brien in his house, having spread a report that she was a party to her own abduction, and his tools are ready to carry her off and do anything with her as he fancies. The toils however, are gathering round him ; but the blow comes unexpectedly from the instruments of his villany —his factotum and the factotum's son.

"The Major's brow unbent, and his whole countenance and air wore a look of self-satisfied pomposity.

" "Twould be bard now to be circumvented,' were his secret thoughts ; every one that opposed me crushed—MacCarthy hung—Sweeney in a fair way to the same end, for the magistrates' memorial must be attended to— the Knockauure gentry dead or transported, and the claimant for Drumgar '- the Major laughed horribly,—' Barney must account for her. Well, I'm clear of the matter, he said, muttering to himself. only desired him to marry her ; but Barney is merciful, he'll give her the choice, no doubt, of a sudden instead of a slow death.' Then, with with his mind still dwelling on the

subject, he continued pacing the room and uttering broken sentences. It's AO affair of mine, to be sure ; a man must look after his own interests. Bar- ney can't be wane—death will be a release to her. No one ever blamed me, • The Militia Major; a Novel. In three volumes. Published by Newby.

but some disaffected scoundrel, for hanging and transporting those men-- the most zealous, active, efficient magistrate. Strong claim on Government, Who did half as much, I'd like to know, in the whole county ? '

"These reflections of the Major were broken in on by Sergeant Wetherell. "'She refuses to stir wan inch, sir,' he said, composedly, looking in his master's face.

"'And you and your fine bully of a son, are such chickens, ye can't com, psi her ? ' said the Major, tauntingly.

"'We'd find out the way,' returned the Sergeant, demurely, your honour id execute the laise, while Barney is here to sign it.' " told you before,' said the Major, angrily, that I'd do no such thing; and that your only chance of my ever doing so was Barney's putting her out of the way first.'

" her?' was the Sergeant's reply, in the form of a query, with his eye fixed quietly on his master's.

"'I never desired him to do that,' said the Major hastily; q only wished him to take her from this, and prevent her Ever comingback—to America, or anywhere else ; but if she died on the passage, neither he nor I could help it, and neither you nor your son have reason to complain. His payment is quite enough, without signing away to you the very land I wanted for my own purposes.'

"The Sergeant seemed troubled with a very peculiar kind of cough. The day had been a dark one, even for the gloomy season of the year, and the light now in the apartment approached to dusk. Barney Maher was in it before Major Power was aware ; and when he did discover his presence, the murderer's arms were flung round him with a vicelike grasp. "'Spoke wan word, and it's your last!' he muttered between his clenched teeth ; then forcing his victim into a chair, desired his father to at wenn prodhuse the laise.' "In a moment one was spread, ready drawn and prepared, by the un- moved-looking Sergeant, on the table before his pinioned master. The Ma- jor would have remonstrated, promised, in fact clone anything but sign it, and gain time by the delay ; but Barney Maher was neither to be opposed or trifled with ; he held him violently down with one hand, with the other he presented a loaded pistol at his head. The murderer's oath was not heal, but deep ; and Sergeant Wetherell, with great composure, lighted a taper at the fire and placed it by the side of the lease. The Major signed it.

"We have time enough to witness it either,' said Dan; ' but here's the wax, Major, to put your seal on id.'

"His master groaned, and his coat-of-arms and cipher were duly affixed. "Now release me,' he cried, and I'll forget all that has passed.' " ' Your memory used to be a good wan,' said the Sergeant, sneeringly; but let that be as it may, we'll first ax you for the kay ov this desk,' and he laid his hand on the brass-clasped one before him.

"The Major would have expostulated, but the tiger-grasp of Barney was on his throat. The Sergeant forced his hand unceremoniously into his master's breeches-pocket, and produced the key. The desk was opened, and a letter, received that day from Sir Walter de Burg to [Amy's father, who has changed his name] was taken out, and placed on the table, instead of the just executed lease, that was folded up carefully by the Sergeant, and placed within a breast-pocket of his coat.

"A flickering, sneering smile played for a moment on the features of Ma- jor Power. A lease executed by him of the lands, in law was void. Dan, with all his cunning treachery, then, was fairly done. "The contents of the brass-clasped desk seemed old acquaintances of the Sergeant's, for he rapidly selected a bundle of papers from amongst them, and holding it up before his master's eyes for a moment, plunged it with a mock- ing laugh into the heart of a red-hot fire, that burnt brightly in the grate. " Dead men, Major, should never tell tales.'

"And the pun with all its force told on the gentleman addressed, as he watched the brilliant flame of a dying declaration, against Barney Maher, blaze before his eyes. Ile now considered the desperate purpose of Barney and his father were accomplished, and earnestly entreated to be released.

"'Soon enough, Major,' said his faithful Dan, smilingly. 'Its relase you want, to be sure ; an' we'll say ye'erself did it, relased yourself by cuttin' ye'er throat, at sight ov Sir Walther 's letther, axin for his daughter,—won't that be a relase for you, Major; an' a laise for me, whether you change your mind or no ? '

"And the cold-blooded villain produced one of the wretched man's own razors.

"You wouldn't murder me, Dan!' screamed out the now really alarmed Major. "'No, but Pa say yourself did it, Major,' said Dan, with the voice of a smooth surface fiend, approaching his victim at the same time.

"A tremendous oath from Barney, at his father, to lave off fooling,' dashed him for a moment from executing his fell purpose ; and in that brief moment, the heartless husband—the neglectful parent—the false friend—the unjust magistrate, and bad man—had to prepare to meet his God. Brief as ft; was, conscience-raised'' spectres were before his glazing eyes, for Barney Maher's murderous hand was on his throat !—his ruined tenantethe last look of old Jemmy Bourke—the curse of his son—the murdered girl, and her slaughtered lover. The mangled corses of the instruments of his arbitrary will—the dying MacCarthy—and the undeserved ruin of the Sweeneys—stood before him in that dread moment, monuments of his public life—his private career—the thought of Amy—of his brokenhearted wife—her death—saw Biddy Sweeney's face at the unclosed windows—heard her cry of terror—and the next, was in eternity."

THE STUDENT'S WIFE.*

WANT of substance, or rather the presence of extreme fragility, is the characteristic of The Student's Wife by Mrs. Mackenzie Daniels. There is much prettiness of sentiment, some tender- ness of feeling, and the writer's wonted elegance of style. More- over, there is greater freshness of subject and story, with more truthful painting from nature, than is generally found in novels which are primarily addressed to the readers of the circulating library. The events, however, are too slight or too singular for the breadth requisite in fiction ; and the persons inspire but slight interest. The reader desires more robustness of character, more purpose or object in the incidents. A charming little girl who marries an odd literary aspirant of fortune, against the wishes of his family, and who dies of attention to her husband and his mean- scripts, the annoyances of her mother-in-law, and delicacy of con- stitution, is well enough for a sketch, but not enough for three volumes. A subordinate story, consisting of a marriage between a friend and an unsuccessful suitor of the heroine Theresa, and the unhappiness caused by the parties doubting the perfect love of on.e another, is of an equally flimsy kind.

• The Student's Wife; a Novel. By Mrs. Mackenzie Daniels, Author of "Mt Sister Minnie," "Fernley Manor," Ste. fbc. In thre?. volumes. Published by Newby.