NEW NOVELS. * Mr. TALBOT GWYNNE has made a considerable advance

in Young Singleton over his previous fictions. • Hitherto he has written little more than " tales " which owed their chief attraction to a knowledge -of traditional manners, and a power of delineating those more sterling qualities of worth and simplicity which we traditionally ascribe to older times. In his present story he rises into the varied action, the more numerous persons, and the coin- pliCated interests of the novel. The literalness which charac- terized his former tales is not altogether removed, though it is not prominent as a defect. Some of his characters are of the stage, and drawn from farce or melodrama ; a touch of conventional novel-writing likewise pervades the management of a good part of the story. The novel, hoviever, is various, fresh in tone, and what is a main thing, readable. It has also a moral; being designed to paint the wretched con- sequences that follow from envy and vanity,—though the real cause of misery seems to be the want of a mother, the vices of a father, and a childhood at once neglected and spoilt. Young Sin- gleton is .a legitimate half-caste ; his father being a nabob of the old school, who superadds to the selfishness and self-indulgence of the tribe the vices of a roué and the crimes of a felon, all committed in the East. After being alternately petted and ne- glected in India, "young Singleton" is sent to England in child- hood, abandoned to an old nurse and an Indian attendant, and the superintendence of an agent. When the health of the sickly boy gets a little fortified, he is sent to a school, and finally to college. The ill effects of early mismanagement and unchecked though not always unpunished self-will, while some would add of a bad physical organization, accompany Richard Singleton through.life ; turning the blessings of fortune, an in- tellect of no common power, and all external means of happiness, into gall. In childhood at Singleton Hall, he displays selfishness and envy; in boyhood at school, in youth at college, in early manhood in the world, he may submit to necessity in the form of schoolfellows, ushers, masters, and equals in station, with something of Oriental duplicity ; but success or superiority of any kind excites jealousy through the impulse of an in- ordinate vanity, though intellectual distinction is within his own reach. He is further soured by disappointment, having been duped and jilted by a beauty to whom he had devoted himself ; but, beyond the display of temper and a common enough selfish disregard of others, he does nothing of much turpitude till his evil nature led him to a crime that darkened the rest of his days. Brownlow, his only real friend, was a fine frank open fellow, whom Singleton hated for his physical superiority and his very virtues. He owed him a further grudge for having married an old playmate ; though Singleton had neither love nor intentions about her. He was also irritated and mortified, on the day in question, that the weather had turned wet during a shooting- excursion, and that Brownlow had displayed much more activity and endurance than himself.

" The way now led along the river-side ; the path gradually rising up the side of a hill, until at about three-quarters of a mile from the ford it was fifty feet above the water. The rugged bank stood up perpendicularly from the stream ; the path being on the extreme edge of the bank, which again rose five or six feet, and was topped by the straggling hedge of a cottage- garden. The dashing rain had made this path extremely slippery ; roots of trees spread across it here and there, piercing the bank also and hanging from its sides. It was a dangerous pass to a careless walker. " Singleton, as he paced angrily along behind Brownlow, let loose all his bitterest feelings of envy and hatred for the man who thought so kindly of him—the only being in the world who really liked him, and who dreamed not of the stormy feelings that raged so fiercely in Richard's breast. " They walked on in silence; but that silence was suddenly broken by a cry from Brownlow. Hitting his toe against a huge root, he tripped, slipped, and rolled off the path. He caught a hanging root with one hand as he fell, and with the other tried to hold on by the slippery ground. The bank shelved inwards beneath the footway; there was no hold for Brown- low's feet, the earth crumbling away beneath them as he struggled in vain to find a support. " This is no joke, Singleton !' he cried, looking up gravely at Richard ; is there anything between me and the river on which I could let myself down ? '

" No, nothing I ' " I've no.purchase on this root, it's too low beneath the path ; and if I let it go it would be all over with me, for I've no hold on the path itself. For Heaven's sake, my dear fellow, stoop down and lend me a hand ! you can do it safely. " Singleton stood perfectly still, glaring on Brownlow as he hung over the precipice, striving in vain to raise himself on to the path. Brownlow's favourite, a beautiful white and Mn setter, sniffed at his face, ran uneasily to and fro, whining piteously, as though she would help him if she could. Then she would look up at Singleton, her eyes speaking, and begging him to help her beloved master. " Poor Kelly ! ' said Brownlow, as the setter anxiously licked his face. Singleton, help me ! think of Disc ! think of my boy ! I would not ask you if it put you in any danger. Kneel down and lend me your hands.' " Singleton's morbid unchecked passions gave the Devil full_power over him. He looked on Brownlow's imploring eyes. Nature loudly called on him to stretch forth his hand and save his friend ; passion held him back. There at his feet was the man he so hated ; there he was, and at his mercy. " Singleton, help me ! Help me, for Heaven's sake ! ' "Singleton, with a fiend's smile, hesitated. The Evil One triumphed over him, exulting in his triumph. Richard folded his arms. Brownlow's straining aching hands let go their hold; he cast one look of reproach and despair at Singleton, as he called on Heaven to protect Rose, and then fell • Young Singleton. By Talbot awynne, Author of "School for Fathers," 4w. In two volumes. Published by Smith and Elder.

Eveleen. By E. L. A. Berwick, Author of" The Dwarf," 4.e. In three volumes. Published by Smith and Elder.

The Letter and the Spirit : a Novel. By Professor H. In three volumes. Pub- lished by Newby.

back into the river beneath him ; his head striking against a huge atone in his fall. Nelly,, with a sharp bark, plunged off the bank after him.

"The remaining dogs rushed barking down the path, and Singleton was left alone. At that instant the wind, which had been lulled, burst forth with sudden violence, bowing tree-tops before it, and blowing the pouring rain along like a cloud. Singleton's wet garments clung tightly to him, yet the sweat burst out from every pore ; his legs trembled, his heart loudly beat, as he stared fixed) y on the space from which Brownlow bad disap- peared . He seemed still to behold hie-mild, imploring eyes—to hear his last words ; and yet he could not believe in the reality of his own devilish deed. He had suffered his friend to die' without lending him the succour he had begged for. "He had stood but for • five or six minutes, trembling, panting, and re- penting ; those few minutes appeared to him a century. A sound above him aroused him. •.Through the hedge burst three counfrymen' whilst, looking over it, Mr. Blenkins, in his long white coat taut sheltered beneath a huge oilskin umbrella; eahnly,directed them to make for the bend of the river, saying, It's like enough the stream may carry him in there, and you'll get him out. I'll send Tom Walsh and his son to help you!' The men ran off at full speed down the hill.

" Mr. Blenkins's voice sounded in Richard's ear as though it were reading his death-warrant, as the old surgeon called to` him coldly and sternly to follow the path to the top of the hill, turn to his right, and come to him in the cottage. " He has seen it all !' thought Singleton. I thought I was alone. Is Brownlow dead, or will they save him ? ' "A hundred confused ideas passed through Singleton's brain as he toiled up to the cottage. When he stood before Mr. Blenkins he could not speak a word, nor raise his guilty eyes to his face. Trembling and cold, he sank into a chair ; indistinct images of Rose and of Rose's grief—of the awfulness of the crime his passions had led him into—flitted before his agitated mind. " Poor young gentleman !' cried the woman who dwelt in the cottage, he be struck all of a heap ! - Never mind, sir; I've no doubt my master and they will get him out alive !' "

With the exception of a little farce in some of the scenes, all that relates to young Singleton is natural enough ; nor is there anything in his general career that might not have happened to him as the son of a common nabob of the old school such as they are painted. Artistically speaking, Mr. Gwynn has erred by uselessly making old Singleton a man of mystery, who turns out a monster of iniquity—a more than Blue Beard, who has not only murdered his Indian wives, but 'their children also except this Richard. A' sort of fate, to:), is made to attach to the house of Singleton ; the race being all bad, and coming to an untimely end, in consequence of the estate having been Church property,— though this idea gives rise to some powerful scenes of a ghostly kind.

" Preachee, preachee," is the character of Eveleen, for the larger portion of the work ; and that pretty much in the Nigger's sense. It is not a religious novel, nor didactic in the way of Avowed teaching ; but it is pervaded by a didactic spirit in its hard, sensible, and rather long-winded. disquisition. Eveleen, the. heroine and autobiographer, is a strongminded young lady, who manages her uncle's house in her youthful teens, till the

widower marries again; her cousins against the cold domestic tyranny of teir new mother-in-law and her con- fidential maid ; and wages " battle proud " against them both in her own person. Notwithstanding her philosophy, however, she gets entangled in an attachment to a young man at a small Irish watering-place ; and what is worse, lets her cousin Mary, who is under her charge, get engaged to her friend's Mend. When Eveleen's beau, who turns out to be it-lord, comes to her uncle's on a visit, she waylays him on his approach, to request secrecy as to their acquaintance. She also does one •or two other things of a clandestine kind, which many will be apt to think worse than a mother-in-law's coldness, and which are certainly unbefitting a heroine.

All the more level parts of Eveleen are unnatural and hard, as i

a novel. The book is clever ; but it is a ,cleverness misapplied. Reason seems the distinguishing characteristic of the author ; but reason alone does not suffice for action even in life—" reason the card, but passion is the gale." In a fiction it may produce a plan and a purpose • but it will not carry them out in a warm lifelike manner. Further, it may produce distinctness ; but the distinct- ness will be that of an inferior draughtsman, whose lines are well enough defined, for they not only cut through the air but into the paper, the soft clear outline of nature being altogether lost. So it is with the scenes in Eveleen. They look as if the writer had been set a succession of themes,—old maid coming home on the wedding-day, to begin as she intends to go on ; stepmother ty- rannizing over her children-in-law ; and the like. Here is THE BRIDE'S ARRIVAL.

Well, she came. We were dressed in our best to receive her ; but it WAS past ten o'clock, and we looked sleepy and sad. She was apparelled in bri- dal white, and wore a bandeau of pearls in her raven black hair. Her face was long, thin, and wan, and every feature wore a pinched and fretted ap- pearance of its own.

We arose as she entered the room, gallantly led by my uncle; who was as gay, bustling, and debonair as gentlemen of forty-three or four usually are on such interesting occasions ; but who, even at that incipient stage of i his new career, seemed to stand a good deal in awe of the magnificent part- ner he had taken such pains to secure, and appeared to be particularly anxious that everything should be done to meet her approval from the first.

Perhaps this appearance of over-anxiety on his part acted in a contrary spirit to what he desired ; or it may be that she resolved beforehand to take a decided stand at the outset, as determined and far-seeing ladies have some- time been known to do. At all events, she was as little demonstrative as any bride of some hours old, and married to the man of her own choice, could well be. She kissed Brent on the forehead and Mary on the cheek ; but it was such a kiss as the perjured witness predetermined to forswear himself, leaves on the Holy Book—cold, clammy, apprehensive, and unna- tural; while to me she simply extended the forefinger of her kid-gloved hand, (it was the left hand too, I remarked,) and said, " Well, Eveleen, I have come to take the keys from you" : she then, without waiting for an answer, threw herself on a chair, and asked for a glass of water.

"To be sure, my love," assented my uncle at once ; "but don't take water. Go, Eveleen, my dear, and order up the wine—" "Not for me," interposed the haughty bride; "I don't wish for wine, thank you! Stay where you are, Eveleen, if you please : I asked for a glee; of water—I require nothing more." "But supper is ready in the other room, my love," urged Mr. Barring- ton with his best smile.

" I never eat supper," was her reply : " it is a useless and most unwhole- some meal; and I hardly pity any one who suffers sharply, or dies suddenly, from indulging in such an abominable practice." There was a dead silence after this decided avowal. For the last twenty years Mr. Barrington had eaten a hearty supper every night of his life ; in fact, it was his favourite meal. "Do not you think Mr. Barrington, that they (she did not say children) I

ought to go to bed ? hope they are not allowed to remain up so late every night ? " "God bless me ! no, by no means," he hastily replied ; "only tonight they were kept up to welcome you, Maria."

"Thanks ! Well, little, people, I think you had better go to sleep," she said with a slight yawn ; and you, Eveleen, as you go, just order some- body or other th bring me a glass of water. Don't trouble yourself to ring the bell, Mr. Barrington ; it will only cause confusion, and bring something we don't want. A glass of water, Eveleen, and good-night all."

She took no further notice of us, but went to the glass and began to smooth her hair; while my uncle, left to do the honours, hastily kissed Mary and me, patted Brent on the shoulder, and told him (in a whisper) to be a good boy and go quietly up-stairs, as "mamma" " disliked noise.

Towards the latter part of the book, a " stirring " interest is hooked on to the commoner affairs of life. Mr. Barrington be- comes embarrassed. Mr. Cabbell O'Fea, the regular type of the Milesian attorney and usurer, affects to befriend him, and gets him into his power in order that he may obtain Mary Barrington. This marriage Eveleen determines to prevent ; and thereupon ensues the usual incidents of the wildest Irish romance—an ab- duction, a fight, a rescue, a madhouse, with death and attempted murder. It is forcibly written, but the same objection applies as to the more level parts.

The authorship of The Letter and the Spirit is attributed to Professor H. The professorship is probably apocryphal, unless it be a self-dubbed title of some wild student. The story, at all events, is a wild affair ; and the principles sought to be inculcated are as wild as the story. The " letter ' refers to formal Chris- tianity as professed in the various churches ; the " spirit" nomi- nally to the churches " converted to Christianity." The Profes- sor's Christianity, however, seems of the oddest—something like Theodore Parker's or the religion in Pope's Essay on Man. There is a curate, who keeps a journal in which he records his doubts and speculations before leaving the Church. There is Mr. Montford, a scholar, traveller, active man-of-all-work, an alleged

Atheist and a great friend of curate. In addition to the phi- losophy and the social prejudices to which it gives rise, there is plenty of that exaggerated romance which a mind unrestrained by knowledge of life or of criticism can readily reproduce from the co- pious stores stores of the circulating library. The book is too flashy to

prosy, but too illogical in its speculations and too extreme in its story to possess interest.