Antipathy, or the Confessions of a Cat-Hater, is a slight
im- provement on Mr. Atstsme's former productions; but is still far from reaching the grade of a respectable novel. The notion of rendering a man's fate dependent upon his antipathy to a cats is too absurd to be fitted for any thing save burlesque or broad grins, yet this idea, foolish as it is, the author has been unable to keep to. The morbid hatred of the hero to the feline race, leads to one or two scenes, intended to be ludicrous, and to a fatal duel between the hero and his bosom friend ; but it has no real influence upon his fortunes or the advancement of the story. The tale is thrown into the form of an autobiography : its incidents are life at col- lege and in town, a voyage to India, and adventures up the country and at Bengal, with the struggles of the supposed writer on his return to England, till his wide, who had discarded him, dies, and leaves him his property ; after which, in compliance with a clause in the will, he has to marry a noble wife, in order to secure the property,—an event which is finally accomplished in a journey to Italy. It will be seen that in all this there is no unity ; in the persons of the novel, there is no character; and although some of the incidents are told with a kind of literal fidelity, the reader will be apt to doubt whether they were worth the telling.
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