HRS. NORTON'S STUART OP DUNLEA.TH. * AFTER a long relaxation, Mrs.

Norton appears again in the field of fiction, with a story that will not add to her reputation. "All is strange, yet nothing new " ; much is essentially common, yet there is nothing real. In point of class, Stuart of Dunleath may be said to belong to the metaphysical novels; where a peculiar character is formed by peculiar circumstances, and the interest of the book lies less in the general and stirring nature of the in- cidents than in their fitness and consistency for the writer's ob- ject. But Mrs. Norton is deficient in the skill and power necessary to accomplish this mental portraiture. The story before us is too singular even for a peculiar view of life ; the delineation has not the force, truth, and finish, which are necessary to excite attention in this species of composition. There is a still more fatal fault : the leading persons are so weak, foolish, or dishonest, that the reader has no sympathy with their characters, no care for their fortunes. There are some clever contrivances in the book, and "good writing" throughout ; but there is such a thing as "too clever by half," and fine writing is of little avail without some- thing to write about.

The story of Stuart of Dunleath is this. Lady Raymond, a weak self-indulgent beauty, is unable to bear the climate of India ; so she is sent home by her second husband, General Sir John Raymond, with his little daughter, Eleanor, who turns out to be the heroine. The General dies just as he is about to land, and leaves his private secretary, Stuart, guardian to his daughter and executor to his

• Stuart of Dunleath ; a Story of Modsm Times. By the Honourable Hrs. Nor- ton. In three volumes. Published by Colburn and Co.

will, with somebody else, who also dies. Stuart's father, a High- land chief, has been a selfish and profligate man, and his creditors sell Dunleath. To recover this patrimonial property is an object of David Stuart's life ; but, instead of making any rational exertion for that purpose, he sits down for years at Aspendale Park, educa- ting Eleanor Raymond, and of course teaching her to fall in love with himself. By way of discharging his duty as trustee, Mr. Stuart speculates with the property of his lato patron, in order to raise enough to buy Dunleath ; and loses it all. At this time Sir Stephen Penrhyn, a rough wealthy baronet, proposes for Eleanor to Stuart; Stuart waits long enough to learn that Eleanor will decline the offer ; after which he goes off and drowns himself " in the Linn," leaving an explanatory letter behind. As Sir Stephen, though a coarse person, is not mercenary, Eleanor's loss of fortune makes no difference in his feelings, and she is persuaded to accept him. The match, however, turns out badly. The parties are ill-assorted ; Sir Stephen's sister makes mis- chief ; Eleanor's two children die ; Sir Stephen has a young woman in keeping established at the lodge of the mansion. After eight years it turns out that David Stuart is not dead after all,—he was rescued by a divine, preached to, and went to Canada. There he slaved. to acquire a fortune to replace the money he had lost, and by luck is able to do so ; but, instead of transmitting it, or re- turning in his own name, he comes back under an alias, wishing to receive Lady Penrhyn's forgiveness. This the lady readily grants, and moreover she receives and introduces him to her family and friends as Mr. Lindsay. When this piece of deception and false- hood is discovered, there is a row ; Sir Penrhyn breaks his wife's arm in a personal encounter; but matters are made up again, till another and a final row ensues, because Stuart threatens to horse- whip Sir Stephen's natural son, (mistaking him for a servant,) and his father insists upon bringing the urchin into the house. Elea- nor, under the advice of Stuart, determines to leave her husband, and institute proceedings for divorce ; but she is stopped by a letter from a friend and the interference of her half-brother. David Stuart, though his love is represented as very violent, yields after a letter or two ; and in a year his intended marriage is announced ; which gives the coup de grace to Eleanor. It would be tiresome to point out inconsistencies of detail, or the essential staleness of the elementary matter ; but one feature of the story is worthy of notice. Nothing is done with,- out death ; Mrs. Norton cannot get on unless somebody goes off. Lady Raymond's first husband dies " quite convenient," as the Irish say, that the story may have a " locus standi" ; Sir John Raymond. dies, that it may begin ; the co-trustee dies ; the hero dies, to come to life again ; Lady Raymond dies ; the children die ; a tenant for life dies, that Stuart may have an estate ; and to get to the end, the heroine dies.

But, critically, the moral is a greater defect than the literary fault. There is throughout a sickly and sentimental leaning to silliness, weakness, and infirmity of purpose, which are always faults, and lead to vice or crime on the slightest temptation. The reader's sympathy is sought (though unsuccessfully) to be enlisted in favour of that ill-regulated disposition which seems incapable of drawing any distinction between right and wrong till wrong stands out in some startling result, and not always then ; while the more straightforward, resolute, and respectable mode of acting and estimating actions, if not actually represented as harshly cul- pable, is presented in conjunction with what is unamiable and un- feeling. It may be said, indeed, that there is a moral pointed ; and this may be true as regards Eleanor. But the canon of critical moral is quite clear,—it must be large enough to be general; it must teach a lesson we want to learn. It is useless to point to errors that few can be placed in circumstances to commit, and that fewer would need. to be warned against. For specimen of the writing, we take the following scene, which paves the way for the termination already alluded to. Lady Penrhyn and Stuart after his return from Canada have been out riding.

"They drew up their horses, and waited for some one to come down from the lodge. The inmates seemed always to have a pleasure in the petty dis- respect of making Eleanor wait. She patted her horse's neck, and averted her eyes from the pretty cottage, whose adornment seemed to be the cease- less occupation of some one of the gardeners ; for even now Sandy was there, lifting away the basin of a stone fountain which the frost had cracked, and in which, during the summer time, Bridget kept gold fish to amuse her children. Young Owen was there, watching with boyish interest the pro- ceedings of Sandy. David called out to him- " Come down, you lazy little fellow, and open the gate, will you?' "The boy turned sharply round. " `I'm not gatekeeper !' " Some of you keep it, I suppose,' said David, impatiently. "The door of the lodge opened, and Bridget tossed the key to Sandy ; but the old man's hands were occupied, for he had just taken up a portion of the stone-work which supported the fountain. Young Owen snatched the key, and running half-way down the path, flung it into the road, exclaiming- ' Open the gate for yourself, my fine Laird o' Ardlockie!' "The key struck the forefoot of Eleanor's horse, as it stood pawing the snow, impatient of the delay ; and the startled animal suddenly swerved— then reared bolt upright—reared again; and, in a moment more, would have started off, fleet as the wind, but for David's dexterity in catching the rein.

" Get down!' said he in a choked voice, let me help you down ; my God ! that your life should be endangered by such a will o' the wisp as that I '

"For an instant he stood looking at her, as the groom rode up and took her horse and his own. Then, turning angrily to little Owen- " 'You deserve a good horsewhipping, said he indignantly. " The lad laughed.

" Maybe you'll give it me,' retorted he.

" 'As well I, as another ' and David made an angry stride up the path;

not hearing or heeding Eleanor, who with hands clasped over her eyes, and in a smothered voice, exclaimed-

" 'Oh ! don't strike him! for Heaven's sake take care what you do! I am as sure as I am of my existence, that that boy—. but what she was sure of, she could not utter.

"The handsome dauntless lad, stirred not an inch as David came forward to seize him ; he coloured violently, and lifted his bold beautiful black eyes to the whip which was held menacingly over his head.

"'Beg pardon for frightening the lady, you mischievous imp, or rn flog you this minute : you must be broken of such tricks as these.'

"'Flog away !' said the boy, trembling more, as it seemed, with anger and defiance than with fear : then in a loud voice, 'Mammy,' he cried, 'run down the road and meet Sir Stephen—he was coming up but now—and tell him the Laird o' Ardlockie has hold o' me.'

"Bridget Owen came out of her lodge, as a young she-panther might have rushed out of its den ; as supple, as graceful, and almost as fierce, she sprang forward, flung her arms round the boy, and stood confronting David ; her lovely passionate eyes flashing with fury, her nostrils dilated, her short upper lip quivering over the even white teeth below, as though it had a separate life of its own. She was a perfect picture ; and as David looked at her in amazement, a dim notion of some sort of link between the beauty of animal and human life flashed through his brain ; while Sandy whispered him-

" Oh ! air, have a care; ye dinna ken a'—' while Bridget turned and called scornfully to Eleanor, down in the road. "'How could you let him beat my boy ?' she said ; was sorry for your's " But Eleanor only hid her face in her hands, and shuddered ; and at the same instant, before David could move to rejoin her, the dog-cart was driven at full speed to the spot ; the horse checked with such suddenness, as to throw him on his haunches, and scatter the snow and earth up the bank where they stood ; and Sir Stephen leaped into the road, and advanced into the centre of the agitated group. " What the — is all this ? ' shouted he. ' What are you at? What has happened ? ' " ' It's the new Laird wants to horsewhip me,' said young Owen. "'You meddled with the boy ?—you meddled with the boy !' "Sir Stephen seemed incapable of uttering another word. " ' The boy flung the key at Lady Penrhyn's horse,' began David.

" Sir,' said the master of Castle Penrhyn, with a fierce oath, I don't care a curse what your reasons were for meddling with him ; I say he shan't be meddled with, d—n you!' and Sir Stephen looked livid with rage.

" David's heart swelled with defiance ; he glanced down towards Eleanor, who was leaning against the stone-work of the gate.

" If the son of your lodge-keeper---' but he was again interrupted ; interrupted by Bridget. " Oh!' said she, with wild impatience, ' the boy has better blood in his veins than yours will boast—match with who you may. Speak up for your own,' added she, looking towards Sir Stephen, and pressing her hands against her temples as if the beating of their pulses made her dizzy. Speak up for your own ! I declare to the Lord, I could leave you tomorrow, though I broke my heart on the hills, if I thought you'd see him struck by any stranger of them all! This comes of our living here as we do, to be at every one's beck and bend, like servants and slaves !' and the angry tears burst at last from Bridget's eyes, and quenched their hot light ; her voice broke down in sobs ; and with a strange but graceful gesture she swung her hand back, and pointed without turning to the desecrated lodge where she thought it a degradation to dwell ; but which certainly looked as little like the abode of a servant on the estate as it well could.

"Her tears fell like oil on fire, in Sir Stephen's heart. He laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, and, taking one fierce step nearer David, he said with a fresh oath,-

"' Sir, this boy is mine! Mine!' he repeated with vehemence, glancing towards Eleanor as if he defied even her presence in the confession,—' I won't have him meddled with, either by milady, or by you, or by any other lady or gentleman ; curse me if I will ! If she don't like him at the lodge, by —, I'll put him in the castle; if she don't like him at her horse's heels, I'll put him by her side at table. S'blood, am I master of Castle Penrhyn, or are you? Things have gone on here in a strange way since you dropped amongst us, and my patience is come to a halt, sir. My house is mine— ray wife is mine—and this boy is mine ; we don't want to you to govern us, and curse me if I wish ever to see you on this side the gate again !'

" He paused, and, looking round, put the boy from him. " Go in now with your mother, and come up at dinner-time to the Castle ; bring your things ; come for good; come to live there, do you understand ? Go in, Bridget.' " He stepped down into the road. " ' Wish Mr. Stuart good-bye, Eleanor,' he said. " She held out her cold hand, and looked vaguely in his face. " You do not seem very fit for riding ; get into the dog-cart. I'll drive you home myself.' "He lifted her in, touched his hat sullenly to David, and drove away. " And then old Sandy, to whom the groom had intrusted David's horse, unlocked the gate ; and keeping the reins over his arm, walked through the wood by David Stuart's side ; and as they walked, told him all that had been known for years at the Castle ; all that Eleanor herself had known for years, but had never spoken of, respecting Bridget Owen and her children."