KATE WALSINGHAM.

IT does not appear very clearly from the titlepage whether this novel is written. by the editor of "The Grandfather" or by the late Miss Picker- ing, or whether both are one. The book bears internal evidence of being by Miss Pickering. She possessed sufficient literature ; she was well versed in. the arts of fictitious effect—the " business " and " eitua- tiona" as it were of the circulating library ; and her observation of character, especially of female character, had been close if not extensive. Her ideas of the governing events of life, however, were false or feeble ; either drawn from fictions of the common class, or she attributed to inci- dents that had fallen under her own observation an influence they were unlikely to possess, or engrafted on them a weight they were unable to bear. Hence, her fictions, though pleasant reading, never rose much above the common circulating library novel : they could not as actual delineations of society be placed on a par with the best of Mrs. Grey even ; ana she never, that we know o4 hit by accident upon some moral prin- ciple or lesson of life, the leading idea of which, if steadily adhered to, maproduce an effect in despite of any errors of detail.

Kale Waleingliam is a novel of the stamp we have indicated. The com- position irgood; the narrative is clear and flowing; and many of the per- sons have nature about them ; but it is a common sort of nature—we meet such people every day and anywhere. They have hardly character enough for a magazine " sketch " : when put into a three-volume fiction they want strength to sustain the requisite interest ; so that, to speak plainly, the young are juvenile and the old deorepid. One might as well

try to make a novel out of any collection of persons in a parlour or draw- ing room, by learning the story of the most romantic among them and taking the others as surrounding planets. There are two or three love stories in the book ; but the main interest is sought to be fixed upon Kate Walsingham, the heroine; and she ap- pears to have been designed to illustrate the disadvantages of genius to a female. This, however, is not very aptly done. We do not see that Kate has genius enough to " point the moral," even if she " adorns the tale " ; but the incident that produces the denouement is hardly sufficient for its purpose. We do not mean that in life slight events may not in- fluence the fortunes of individuals, just as a very trifling accident may kill them ; but that these are not sufficiently general for fiction. Kate is betrothed to a rather disagreeable Byronic sort of personage bight Raymond Berrington ; whose wayward and suspicious ill-temper and ill-breeding cause distress for a couple of volumes, partly arising, it would appear' from his disliking female wits. After the course of Kate's true love has been duly ruffled in this way, Mr. Berrington, in a luckless moment, is incited to start as a Parliamentary candidate : but, though a very extraordinary person, he is deficient in what so many senators have too much of, " the gift of the gab." Struck dumb upon the hustings the first day, his silence is attributed to illness ; in the interim Kate writes a speech for him, which turns the tables in his favour. His mother dis- covers the fact ; writes jestingly about it to her intended daughter-in- law ; misdirects the letter to a mischief-making Lady Rathallen, by whose means an exposure takes place ; and Mr. Berrington comes in a towering passion to break off the engagement.

"In the midst of their mirth the servant entered to say that Mr. Barrington was below, and wished to speak to Miss Walsingham, but he would not detain her above a few moments.

"'Do not go,' said Catherine to her friend: I have so much to say to you- r() much to arrange—I shall be back almost directly.'

"Isabel smiled; she could pretty well guess from experience what Raymond's few moments and her directly meant; but, not being in a very great hurry to return home, she promised to wait for her if she was not really gone too long. "Raymond Berrington was pacing up and down the room with hasty strides and a hurried and unequal step, but he paused suddenly at her entrance ; and Catherine started back with a slight scream at sight of his pale colourless fea- tures and gleaming eyes, "Good heavens! what has happened?'

"Nothing new—nothing but what I have expected from the very beginning. The curse of your genius has fallen upon me at last—and I have come to bid you farewell for ever.'

"Raymond 1—oh God! it must be a dream!' murmured the poor girl. "Yes, it will seem so to you; and you will write upon it so touchingly that the world will thrill, and wonder at such deep pathos, such rare eloquence and pity you for the strange destiny that linked your fate with mine. There ;fill be abundance of themes for poetry in the past; more especially the burlesque, if you have any talent that way.' "He must be mad !' thought Catherine, shrinking from those glittering eyes.

"it is a pity,' continued her companion, more wildly, that you were not an eye-witness of the scene of today: the description would have been more graphic —more vivid ! But nevertheless, there is no fear there will be wanting people to describe it to you—to exult in your triumph—the triumph of your high, in- tellect !—even though it should be founded on the rain and disgrace of him who in a few hours more you would have sworn, with false and lying lips, to love and honour. Pahaw 1 what ! honour him whose name you have made a by-word and a scorn for evermore!'

"Raymond!' !' exclaimed Catherine, speak to me—speak plainly—what fear- ful mystery is this?'

"No mystery—no secret now, but the common talk of the town—nay, by this time all D— is ringing with the strange news. But you need not turn so pale; for every sneer uttered against my name will be mingled with praises of the rare and versatile genius of her who, serpent-like, first deceived and then betrayed me ! Oh Catherine ! was there no other pathway to fame—to popu- larity—but over the ruins of a heart that loved and trusted year "He sat down and covered his face with his hands; while the fearful truth burst slowly over the mind of his horror-stricken companion. It mattered not how this had got abroad—he was lost to her for ever! as he had said, the curse of her genius had fallen upon them both. A faintness, even unto death, crept over her whole frame; but she endeavoured to arouse herself—they mast not part thus in bitterness and anger. If he could only be brought to forgive her—to say that he believed her innocent, then Heaven would give her strength to bear the rest. And, kneeling down by his aide, she tried to speak calmly—to still the wild beating of her throbbing temples—to collect her wandering thoughts. But no words came, only tears; burning, irrepressible tears, that saved her heart from breaking. "'I believe,' continued Berrington in the same tone, that this disclosure 13 somewhat premature, and unexpected; that you had not thought it would haee reached my ears so soon—perhaps not until after the wedding tomorrow. But I cannot be too thankful for my escape. And yet it seems, as you say, like a dream, to remember how you looked and spoke and smiled on that night, be- guiling me to my doom !' "'Heaven is my witness,' said Catherine' in a broken voice, that no syllable of what passed then has ever been breathed by me to a single living soul!' " Pshaw 1 why seek to deny a plain and palpable fact? Rather exult and glory in the triumph you have achieved.' "Nay, hear me, Raymond; for I swear it by all I hold dear on earth ! by my hope of heaven ! Not even to your mother.' "Did I, then, think you, take the trouble to proclaim my own disgrace? If only we two knew of the occurrences of that night, one must have revealed them: "'But the paper,' continued Catherine, clinging in her agony and despair to a straw, the paper upon which I wrote, could it have been found, and my hand- writing recognized? '

"'Impossible, since I burnt it to ashes before I retired to rest.' " Are you sure—quite sure—every little bit ? ' "Raymond turned away from her appealing glance with a fierce impatient gesture.

"'Oh, leave me not thus! Think for me—think for us both—how this could have come about. Indeed, indeed, I betrayed you not.' " ' Nay, it was but natural, after all that you should boast of what you had done; should tell it in confidence to some dear familiar friend—to De Lyle per- haps—not intending for your own sake, that it should get blazoned forth to the world, lest you might have to blush for me—for your husband!'

"He arose up tottering and feeble. " Raymond ! ' exclaimed the girl despairingly, oh, let us not part in anger— forgive me! pity me!' " Then you confess that it is as I have said ? '

"'No, I deny it; and would with my latest breath. And you believe me oh say that you believe me I Look not on me thus—I feel that we must part, but let it be in kindness.'

"'Now this is mockery !' said Berrington, struggling to free himself from her detaining grasp.

Raymond, I confess that I have been to blame; that it is all my own fault. I was too ambitions; but it was for you. I should never have written again: I had been warned—I promised that I would not: but it was for yon—for you. Oh God ! I am bitterly punished ! '

"Berrington felt his strength failing him, and the hand she held in hem trem- bled strangely; but it was from weakness of body, rather than any wavering of that stern and iron heart. "'My father!' continued Catherine; what shall I say to him? To Walter? Must all be known?' "'Everything; and De Lyle will curse me, as he did once before. And then there will be a duel, as there should be in all romances—should there not?' "The girl clasped her bands wildly together, and groaned aloud in her agony. While Berrington moved hastily towards the door. " 'Raymond ! ' exclaimed she, springing forward, and forgetting all but her love and care at sight of his feebleness. 'You mast not walk home.' "'What! you fear that the very boys in the street might hoot at me?'

" No, only lest you should be taken ill.'

"'Rather pray that I may die!'

"'Not you; may you be happier than I could ever have rendered you: but for me, I care not how soon it may please Heaven in its mercy to take me to itself.'

'. These passionate complaints will sound marvellously well in poetry,' said her companion mockingly; and with a little care, may be turned to good account What says your favourite author of such griefs ? it was only last night we were reading it— Into work the poet kneads them—and he does not Me till then r Catherine lifted up her large eyes to his face, fall of gentle pleading; but there was no reproach in then,. Her words, could she have spoken, would have been loving still; but speech seemed denied her; and he passed away and left her thus."

After deep distress and the development of consumption in Raymond, his mother steels herself to confess the truth ; the lovers are reconciled on the Byronic hero's deathbed ; and Kate survives, to exhibit the moral of resignation and single blessedness, though an old lover is sighing for her.