STBPHEN DUG ARO.

THIS is a powerful novel, by a person of very considerable thought and ability. Allowing tbr the necessities of romantic fiction, and the character of the age in which the scene is laid, (the early times of Giotto the Second) the incidents are sufficiently probable, and knit together with care and coherence. The humbler charac- ters are drawn with strength and discrimination, and the higher ones with consistency ; but these last are rather deficient in individual marking, or in that something which is requisite to in. spire interest and impart vitality. Many of the scenes are deli- neated with forceful truth, and many of the remarks display deep and original reflection. The nature of the subject, however, pre- vents the novel from exciting so much interest as so many good qualities in conjunction ought to have produced.

Stephen llugard is the legitimate son of a baronet, who from pride mid caprice conceals his marriage; and, being killed abroad, his orphan child is supposed to be illegitimate ; Mayfield, the ser- vant intrusted with the knowledge of his birth, suppressing it for motives which seem insufficient. This inconsistency, however, is overbalanced by its necessity, the whole of the story hinging upon it : tbr at the time the novel opens, Stephen Dugard has nearly

reached manhood, with an originally bad nature, aggravated by the disadvantages of his position and the encouragement of Mayfield. lime purpose of this worthy is to get Stephen thoroughly into his power ; to marry him to his daughter ; and then, bringing forward the proofs of his legitimacy, to dispossess the uncle, whom he hates for his wife, and to reap the advantages of father-in-law and tyrant over the owner of the AzIedine estates. For this purpose, he acts upon the weak mind and fosters the low tastes of Stephen, and at last persuades hint to run away, providing him an asylum with a band of smugglers and robbers. The wild adventure and jovial carousing of a smuggler's lift are just suited to Stephen's taste; but by degrees he is familiarized with vice, and led by the circumstances of his career into a connexion with crimes which neither he nor Mayfield contemplated at the outset. The result, however, is time saute : the life of Stephen is in the hands of May. field; he marries his daughter ; his legitimacy is established; the estates are got possession of; his uncle is consigned to prison for arrears, and the punishment of crime and folly begins. Sir Stephen's companions at the hall—the life of riot they lead, together with his with and his father-in-law—cause the county round to repulse him : his desires, expanding with his condition, and the re- membrance of his different reception when with his uncle, induce him to struggle against the yoke matrimonial and paternal; scenes of violence and of crime take place before the catastrophe ; but at last vice is punished and virtue rewarded.

The coarseness and criminality, %mollusc delineation forms a prin- cipal part of the novel, are the cause that its effect is not equal to the power displayed by the author. It is true that several episodes are Litroduced, and not without skill; and love and distress spring out of the expulsion of the uncle and his family' from the home which he had so long deemed his; but the low arts of Mayfield, and the crimes and characters of his instruments, are the most prominent features of Stephen Award, if not so designed by the author. Speaking critically, too, the exposition of Stephen's real claims, though divined front an early period, is long delayed; and tisJ reader besides feels too confident, for the juiciest of suspense, that such gross and revolting criminality must be punished by legal not to speak of poetical justice.

Having, in our notice of Jack Sheppard, touched upon the ra- tionale of vulgar crime not pleasing as a principal in fiction, we shall not recur to the subject : but the perusal of S'Itepleen Dugard may be strougly recommended to those whose taste is fin. the New- gate Calendar romanticized as well as it admits; for neither Bus.- went nor AINSWORTH, nor even Box, has come up to its author in the powerful delineation of criminals and crime. The various characters of his smuggler-robbers are drawn with nice discrimi- nation, and sustained with exact consistency, from the strong clear intellect of Kiivert the leader, and the superior manners of Three Farthing Nick, whose vices had caused his fitll, down to time mere animal ruffians of the gang. Nor is there any incongruous attempt at excusing their crimes through circumstances, or veiling them by attributes of romantic feeling, or touches of generosity : they arc painted as criminals and nothing more,—selfish, relentless, de- bauched, and bloody from calculation, as soon as ever their safety is concerned, yet not altogether 'inhuman. The scenes, too, in which they are engaged, whether of' carousal or crime, are drawn with great power, and with a fearful nakedness ; yet they are not so melodramatic or merely physical as some of a similar character in Oliver Twist ; nor arc they don • with such appearance of effort. Ilene is an example,—a murder, which is deemed necessary by the gang, to remove a witness who had accidentally fallen into their hands; Mayfield having vainly interfered to stop it. Stephen's cheek grew pale, and turning his eye upon MayEchl, he saw that he too was ngitated ; though, after the taunts he had received, be considered it useless to attempt further expostulation. The rest received the decision of Kilvcrt with a loud hurrah. The sanguinary resolution was no sooner taken, than the means of executing it were debated. Various methods were suggested, and among them, one by Three-Farthing Nick ; that a blunderbuss, which Gabriel Langley carried, should have a string tied to the trigger, the muzzle held to the head of the in- tended victim, anti:then all to pod at the string, so that every one might be equally concerned in the deed. But this was abandoned for a scheme of' Kit-vest's, who proposed that as they all had loaded pistols, one should be taken frost each, laid In a heap on the ground, covered over, and every man, blindfolded, draw that upon which he should first lay his hand. Whoever diem his wed, should despatch their prisoner. If no one drew Ids own, then he to whom the last one belonged should be executioner. The object of both schemes was the same, that of common participation in the crime; but the latter WaS preretrad, because less difficult of perlinulance, while it had, besides, the reermunieui.lation of' a chance of escape, which to some among them, exclusively of Stephen and

Mayfield, was not undesired. *

Black Kenneth was the first to begin. Fastening his horse to a tree, he took one of the spades, and proceeded to dig in the spot pointed out by hilvert. Grim Lawrence followed, and (Nay one in turn was called opus to teed a hand, Stephen and Mayfield relieving Kilvert and Mat Ilenwick. In less than an hour, a grave of several tint deep was excavated ; met into it the bode of autherthrd was thrown, together with the bloody cloth which c ...wed. it. But now came the more townie seem of this awful drama.

Kilvert. without speaking a word, (and the same profound silasee tamed by all,) collected the pistols, which be placed upon the geoa rah and then, taking off his own coot, spread it over them. They were Luld comp'ettly out of sight behind the mound of earth which had been thrown up in gigging the grave.

"Now," said he. alien every thing was ready, " it shall not be thought I have a better chance than the rest, as I mean to be the first to draw. Come here, 'Squire," beckoning to Stephen, who advanced with a fait, vim:7. step, 0 Let me hind this handkerchief over your eyes, and then May11,11 shall you to the pistols. Change the position of every one, but with oot on coat, or putting your hand under it. You cannot then place your own where you can find it again, nor can I know in what order they will lie." This was accordingly done. Atter which, Kilvert, with his eyes bound, was conducted to the heap. lie drew forth one, and stuck it in his heti Stephen shook in every limb when it came to his turn. At length there remained only the last ; and then, upon examination, it was found that no one had drawn his own. Whose, then, was the last ?-111ack Kenneth's. Ile took it up, cocked it, and went towards the miserable being whose very minutes were now counted.

" Stop !" exclaimed Kilvert. 1; Give him time to say his prayers, if he is able." Poor wretch! Ile had slept away the fumes of the treacherous drink stitlis ciently to know all the horror of his situation ; to know that his grave was yawning before him; and that he was on the brink of eternity. lie awoke under the rough grasp of Kilvert, who untied the curls with which ha was fastened, and stared w ildly about him as he was dragged off the horse. The first word he uttered was the name of his companion, friend, and fellow- servant.

" You are to die !" said Kilvert.

He had reeled before, as he endeavoured to gain his benumb,td legs; but at these words he suddenly stiffened into an attitude of pallid horror. There was light enough to see the band by whom be was surrounded, and the dark grave at his feet, and the blood.besmeared features of his companion lying in it. "I tun here to die ! " he exclaimed in a voice scarcely articulate. " For what ? "

" It concerns you more to know that you-are to die, than to knoiv for what," replied Kilvert. " a initiate will bestead you, to send up a short prayer to Heaven, use it so ; if not, prepare." He dropped upon his knees, and with Frantic gestures implored thsm to spare his life. At this moment, Bli Gonzalez approached behind, and, slash-

ing his knife across his eyes, exclaimed, " Ned Demos sends you that !" The shriek of the wretched man was frioolitful. Ile kit upon his time; when Black

Kenneth stepped up, dragged him close to the edge of the grave, supported him with one hand in a half-erect position, with the other directed Ow muzale of the pistol close to his heart—fired, let go his hold, and the mangled body dropped upon that of Rutherford. Whether he was quite dead, they did not trouble themselves to ascertain. The next minute they set to work and tined ap the grave. It was a scene fraught with horror. The shriek of the murdered man, as Gonzalez wantonly mutilated him—the startling echoes of the pistol-shot

through the surrounding forest—the heavy, soften sound of the body as it

rolled into the grave, and the stifled death .groan which fitintly followed the ball that pierced the heart—still rung in the ears of Stephen, who Intl shrank trembling behind Kilvert, unable to look at the bloody business, Ile felt he was a murderer! What that feeling is, in the freshness of its first awakening, there is no form of speech dark and terrible enough to express. Even his comrades, inured as they were to deeds like this, or at least callous as they bud proved themselves in its perpetration—even they, who had talked of it with so much levity, and pursued it with such an unrelenting spirit, were awed, fur the moment, by its consummation. Not a word was spoken after the brutal exclamation of Bli Gonzalez. In silence Black Kenneth advanced to to perform his task ; in silence lie dragged his bleeding victim to the edae of the grave ; in silence they proceeded to shovel in the earth ; and when it cline to Stephen's turn to assist, he was reminded of it by Kilvert, who touched his arm, and silently pointed to the spade which Mat lienwick had left standing upright in the mould.

It must not be inferred from our remarks that there is nothing but crime in Stephen Dllgarvl : on the contrary, the fortunes of very amiable characters are involved; and there arc s,-nne scenes of a pleasant interest, and a good many dialogues or re- marks which show the man of thought and observation. As slight examples of this kind of composition, we take a few extracts.

A LEARNED STAN.

The Reverend Jonas Dankes was one of those learned men the race of which is now almost extinct. By dint of indiscriminate and indefatigable reading, and of a powerfully retentive memory, he had made his mind a sort of receiving-house for other men's ideas. Ile was a seeker of useless knowledge, and his acquisitions in that way might be compared to those of a man who has a thousand acres of land in a wilderness, whereof some half-dozen only are profitably cultivated. He had a reason for every thing ; but his cause and effect were sometimes like a man and woman before marriage, in no way re- lated to each other.

RESIGNATION.

" And how did he bear the communication'?" inquired Sir Everton, much affected by what he heard.

" With that composure," replied Dr. Read, " which convinces me Nature deals mercifully with us even in her sharpest trials. He seemed to hear from my lips nothing but the audible expression of his own thoughts; he hues' the hand of death was Upon him. And 1 am persuaded there is always, in a dis- ease that is mortal, this mysterious revelation. That which we call resigna- tion, 1 have rarely witnessed, (certainly not to the same extent,) except in those who have really received their summons. They who, as their ultimate recovery proves, only bell,re themselves to lie dying, eamout keep dour', Imo whose struggles are discernible amid all their submission. Not so with lie' who lifts certainty endued at the confines of this world, and it IP) stands tips: its brink waiting for the signal."

DIENTAL POWER SURVIVING ItrA:kiN.

" What a melancholy history," observed Aston, we 11.4e ned to! And by what an extraordinary sse

preceded! Would it not scent as if the r.nsoluing power, ■slt,,re they esi4t in decided strength, display themselves with increased (swim lairs—as a strong man becomes us giant in pow :I) v.-1('u, dalieion • ;" " Paradoxical as it may appear," replied Colosimo, " it 1 1,suar, thinly true, that sort of wild, irregular strength 0. boat, c. flashes of mind, as its were—are frequently observable ion lau...t is,. ‘Chena: it 411,9';`!Ii ;.11 • arises, it were idle to conjecture ; for, as see know not ti miumiple II V IV We think, we intuit of necessity be profoundly iu " (.;1111 you imagine," continued .1).ton, "ii t)fluskspere. io oh. prime (.1' life

had experienced a inisfort une o is:deceit him tofu t Neville, that there would not bare been moments alien vs...! I have talked

sublimely ? I am sore 01'4. Nothing hat the tolul extioe ),»1 owli a !hind

nothing but its being utterly blotted out, annihtla c.• ii< mein, could have prevented irradiations blazing forth now )u. the mighty spirit that was in captivity."

ISOLATED WEALTH.

One Oe IWO attempts to Ming-Li thin society w linen ilk nude.; etnniniiir heel always linen ninieted, and which had been reputes...1 it nil t nualifyieg eshiueit.; amounting almost to insult, rankl, 1 in his unia(1. Lu-ou in 11:s anticipated gratification at appearing as a " baroluet " among his be mer talstie emnpalions and acquaintance, Ile was disipponit..d ; for the honest opte of :1 .I:buurne,as

he passed through the village, showed by their shro:fs, out ',auks, that

they regarded him as an mu welcome Mt-ruder, unworthy ,d' the rood forma(' tiltich had hcfuRcn him. Ills very servants obeyed 1(4. emmurnal... or he fan. cied they dill. as if their recollection of Stephen Dusfusoo ali respect for Sir Stephen A zledine. NV by was this ? Ile did not believe there was any res-on Far doiag so; that a single soul knew or had heard a whisper of the life he had led fol!ii the time of quitting'!'. Bosley. The whole of that period was a 1,1.1k, which not one of those who now shunned hint could till up. Why. then, ems he thus avoided ? Why thus repulsed, or thus coldly received ? \\'hy was lie &hen hack into his own circle ; and why could no one be found who would cutter it with him ?

As often as these thoughts suggested th.toust lye); to his mind, (Si )13 every by they did so more and more,) he could cr. (cov..n. but ore explamo ion of them. That esplanntion was comprised inn sing1,1 word—NI A } Mayfield had trained him to allot be was ; afaytichl coma:oiled him to fly frjun Ashbourne ; Mayliuld had delivered hint hoo the hoofs of 'invert; 'Mayfield had prepared liur him the refuge at Blink Loch ; 3Lr, field had pro•

sided him with a Nlayfield had driven his uncle to a iuri,),» ; Mayfield had, indeed, obtained for 'Mil his birthright, lout not until he had also obtained fur him hatred, contempt, terror, and remorse. While he was a fugitive among fugitives—while he was lending the life of sa outlaw aiming outlaws—while the boundary of his hopes !.Ct awil to bet imam- scrikal by his actual condition, it mattered little to him les, he :e.).)led through

the would. But with his new condition came new !sow passions, new feelings. Ile had wealth which lie could not spend, raid: which he could not display ; and pleasures which lie ought to be •able to (2 njoy, only inedied him nu every side.

Among the many nun inications he experienced, few a t a n;...) deeply

than when he found lulu-fusel'. (as lie often (lid) pas..sal e-ithout the slightest re- (.0,41lition by those who always, Ind a Land and a woid 1,1 gisa 1 log bur hint as