JANET, OR GLANCES AT HEMA.N NATURE.

Tuts novel is a fiction of Miss AIJSTEN's school. The incidents are few and simple ; the story is made up of such events as are daily occurring, though there may be some want of nice coherence in the main links of the chain ; the characters are chiefly drawn from the more straightened walks of genteel life—that part of society which with the status and feeling of gentility is doomed to wrestle continually with pride and poverty, or the lower aristocracy strug- gling to rival the higher ; and the whole work is the result of watchful observation in collecting the materials, and of much care, thought, and pains, in working them up. To the dash and effect of modern composition Janet has neither pretension nor aim ; nor can it attract as a picture of fashionable society, or of any other class which excites a temporary curiosity. Its merits are—a nice and miniature delineation of those persons and that life with which the mass of novel-readers are familiar ; much truthfulness of dialogue ; a keen but never a malicious satire ; and the serious sensible reflections of a well-ordered mind, on the incidents which such a subject may produce ; the whole being embodied in a story which sometimes runs and never drags. The purpose of Janet is to illustrate the passion of envy. Janet Irving and Georgina Berrington are sisters- by the same mother, who died in the infancy of the latter, leaving both to the care of her second husband, a half-pay officer of small means and large debts. Janet, though placed by her maternal relations in the more advan- tageous worldly position, nourishes a secret diSlike to her less for- tunate sister, because - the guileless and affectionate disposition of Georgina procures her a love whiCh is denied to Janet, whom a bad nature and circumstances have rendered artful and 'Selfish. The chief means of illustration are, the efforts of envy to keep the object of its hatred in the background, and when her arts have defeated themselves, to sow distrust between husband and wife, and to effect a separation which shall embitter the lives of both. Collateral with this action, is the folly of an unequal match, made up on one side through pique, and on the other by friends from motives of a seemingly justifiable prudence. But, whilst the misery which such a marriage may entail is dimly forehinted, the temper of husband and wife, the circumstances which surround them, and the kindly feelings of the writer, incline her to carry them along rough ways to a pleasant termination. Strictly examined, it will be found that the mainspring of the whole—the envy of Janet—has scarcely adequate motive for its origin, though its conduct is probable enough ; nor does the mar- riage of her sister appear quite feasible as men of the world and of ton generally conduct themselves. But passing over these defi- ciencies, the incidents which precede and follow the main events have sufficient likelihood ; the characters are admirably drawn, not only with the mixture of vice and virtue inseparable from humanity, • but with that lowliness of mental feature which is the characteristic of the mass, and which forms the essential element of comedy as opposed to tragedy. Besides some sketches of almost fashionable life, which are quiet but not striking, the classes of society described in Janet, are the struggling gentility of a country village, the mixed company of a select watering-place, not of the first grade, and a foolish woman marrying a wealthy fishmonger and striving to eclipse her well-con- nected relations by finery. These things, however, can only be seen to advantage in the miniature-like paintings of the novel itself. Our quotations will come from the descriptive or reflective passages.

TWO SKETCHES.

On the afternoon of one of those cold, biting December days, which occur during what is commonly, and very justly, called a black frost, two female figures were seen traversing the village of Atherley, in the direction of the Grange. The one, a bulky-looking person of about five-and-forty, attired in a dark brown cloth pelisses tight and scanty, (and, therefore, showing to advan- tage the full proportions of her portly furm,) yawning black cloth hoots, and a straw bonnet, lined and trimmed with coquelicut. 11cr age, as I have said, might have been forty-five ; but she had ueither wrinkles nor gray hairs ; and, although the meanness of her apparel did not proclaim a flourishing state of finance, there was something in the tout ensemble that looked us if the world bad not gone ill with her ;• something, too, in the firm, determined manner in which she planted her ample foot upon the hard and ringing ground, which gave assurance strong, that it would require more than a trifle to knock her down, either morally or physically. In disposition, she was evidently a bust- ling, good-tempered, sturdy-mided person, who would make a fair resistance against all the evils of life. As for her condition, she might be the house- keeper from Sir Felix Wrighton's, or a half-gentlewoman, or the wife or widow of a better sort of tradesman.•

Her companion presented a complete contrast to this buxom individual. A faded plaid cloak hung in louse folds about her spare, small ti,gure ; whilst a close bonnet, tiistened under the chin with a sad-coloured !Shand, formed a fit framework to a set of features where the sharp red nose, pale cheeks, and me- lancholy mouth were ill-atoned fur by an intellectual brow and piercing dark gray eye.

ENVY.

Envy is a plant of very common growth ; it is, alas ! the moral upas tree of time domestic hearth, whose poisonous influence separates young hearts that should have loved amid grown together.

Sister, too often, envies sister, and brother, brother. Cain envied Abel, and lie smote, and slew bins ; the Patriarchs were moved with envy, and sold their brother for a slam Is the picture too highly-coloured ?—Alas! no; the mind, this despicable passion sways, shrinks from no littleness—resorts to every artifice to serve its purpose. Falsehood, detraction, calumny—these are the weapons envy loves to wield : and the wounds they leave are rarely healed without a scar; for, while the covetous man seeks to defraud us of our wealth, or the ambitious thrusts us on one side, that he may seize the prize we sought to grasp—the envious spirit strikes at our happiness and peace of mind—our reputation, or good name. It is possible to replace wealth—ambition's loss is often a real gain ; but with our perished happiness we lose our power of enjoyment; and a reputation sullied is, alas, a reputation lust. There is a sort of stern nobility in pride, to which we yield involuntary homage; ambition too, even while it startles, lbseinates and thralls—for in both we see the towering olfspriog of a lofty heart ; but envy is a mean, grovelling feeling, which springs, like avarice, from a little mind. Twin sisters also ; for, though the miser is not always envious, von will seldom find a disposition in which envy forms a striking feature, free from the love of gold.

POVERTY.

Perhaps unfortunately for herself, Theresa had been educated above her sphere in life; and hitherto the refinement of dueling education usually bestows, had rendered her tolerably indifferent to the glories she had forfeited ; or, if a spirit of regret did sometimes rise, the recollection of Mr. Parkins's appear- ance, his loud voice and coarse boisterous manners, speedily turned the scale. • But it was no longer so; she was so very cold, so thoroughly uncomfortable, that she most heartily wished it had been possible to change her wretched little drawing-room over Sirs. Slopewell's shop, for the warm, comfortable rooms of Shrubbery. Hall. It is is very great mistake to limit the suffering penury entails, simply to the

lower orders. Major Berrington, parting with his precious treasure in defiance of his better judgment; Maurice Arnold, borne down at once with disappoint- ment and disease, and yet obliged to struggle on ; even Theresa, starved into the surrender of her finer sensibilities, felt all the stings and bitterness of poverty quite as acutely as does the labouring man, who may sometimes, per- chance, go eupperless to bed—and perhaps more, for theirs were trials of the heart and feelings, his but a bodily privation.

MARRIAGE.

:-Why'are not'happy marriages more frequent? • Ond, Who knew something of human nature, of its dark shades at least, would reply by pointing to that species of conventional hypocrisy modern society imposes on its members. Nor ss he altogether wrong; we are all automatons, and the springs which more fth'are hidden, sometimes from ourselves—how then shall others penetrate our secret' motives, or guess them different than our actions would declare ? But it is not only that marriages take place under false impressions; in forming such connexions there is frequently a want of reciprocal affectioli If there be any love at all in the business, (andsby the way, that necessary iu- gredieat to wedded happiness is often omitted altogether,) it is all on one side. A man may marry the woman of his choice, or vice versa, but rarely do both consult their inclinations. A girl, whilst still under parental tntelase, refusei or accepts, not as her heart, but, as her friends dictate ; and, in later days, when her own mistress, she marries any one who asks her, because, in her butfetings about the world, she has felt the want of a protector ; or because she has not moral fortitude to bear the obloquy of being an old maid. And a man marries from pique, whim, to advance himself in his profession' or to pay his debts. When, therefore, the doting wife, who finds herself forsaken, rails at

j the fickleness of man, it were more just, perhaps, did she suspect that she had never been beloved. And the indulgent husband, whose affection meets with no adequate return, may nearly always be assured that the jewel he vaiuly seeks to win hus long ago been parted with.

BROKEN SPIRITS.

We read sometimes of broken hearts; pretty poetic things, no doubt, and perhaps true. Broken spirits, at any rate, there are. Oh, yes ! the spirit breaks, but not for love. Love is the dream of early youth, and the spirit breaks not then. Youth has in itself the elements of so much happiness ; its energy, its hope, its trust, its fond belief that every thing is beautiful, thnt everyone is true, and its warns affections all give a buoyancy., an ever-moving principle of joy ; and though the spirit bows, it breaks not then.

It is in atter years, when stern experience has become our teacher; when the bright glowing hue of hope has passed away, and in its place dark shadows fall ; when all life's billows have swept over us, and each succeeding wave has left its furrow on the soul ; oh, then it is the spirit breaks, and on man's boasted energy gives way.

RELIGIOUS PEOPLE.

" There is a time for all things ; and it i3 really very hard, considering what a dull life I lead, that, when I have the advantage of a little cheerful conversa- tion, and the chance of knowing how the world goes on, you will come and spoil all by your gloomy fancies. But it's just like you, never thinking or caring for any one but yomself ; and, latterly, you have grown worse than ever. I'm sure I would not be of your way of thinking for the world." " Perhaps, if you were, Belinda, you would complain less of the retired life you lead." " Oh, as for that," replied his sister, " religious people require quite as much amusement as we do."

" Indeed ?"

" Yes; they are never happy without excitement of some kind or other : what are all their meetings, but religious dissipatiou and party-spirit ?" " Sometimes I fear, your censure is correct."

" Even their church-going deserves no better name : it is always to hear some particular preacher, not to worship God. And then they come home, and, in place of applying the sermon to their own hearts, amuse themselves canvassing its merits, either to find fault or praise, just as it happens to meet their peculiar views or opinions. Then the way in which they force themselves into people's houses. 1 had a visit the other day from three young ladies, quite girls: they wanted me to subscribe to an association, something to benefit the lower orders—I don't exactly know what, for I never trouble my head about such things t but I had molly no money to throw away, so I said I took the oppo- site view of the question:: and—would you believe. it!—one of them was abso- lutely impertinent ; I thought 1 should never have got rid of them. After I came here, too, just as We were in all the bustle and coefusion of our first settling, I was regularly persecuted by two ladies, collectors for the Temper- ance Society, the most forward, disagreeable persons 1 ever met with. Then there is Mr. Truman, who preaches what lie takes good care not to practise. Would you have nie resemble any of these ? "