NOR7LAN LESLIE.

HERE is another American novel—a class of literature in which our Transatlantic brethren are exhibiting considerable strength. Norman Leslie is by an author (THEODORE S. FAY) whose name is unfamiliar if not unknown in England; and it is introduced to the British public by another American, who has been heard of

for the first time in this country within these few months. Now, though Mr. N. P. WILLIS has written a clever gossiping book, which has been a good deal read, yet we hardly think he is suffi-

ciently at home among us to play the part of a chaperon, walking before his proti.,,e into our literary circles, and telling us, with

a courtly bow, that his friend is full of merit, and much thought of in his own country, and that his work will certainly lay the foundation of a similar reputation in England. This is the whole purport of an advertisement which Mr. WILLIS has prefixed to the work, without even the qualifying apology of Paul Pry, that be " hopes he don't intrude." We could have understood this

had it COMO from WASHINGTON IRVING Or COOPER; though we

do not think either of them would have perpetrated such a puff preliminary. They would have known, that no work of fiction, ushered into the world by a respectable publisher, falls still-born from the press ; and that a new novel is sure to be read, and to stand or fall by its own merits. The book is clever, but a strange jumble. For a considerable • part of the first volume, it is precisely in the style of one of our fashionable novels ; and afterwards it becomes a tale of romance and mystery, too much after the old fashion of Leadenhall Street.

In the last volume the mysteries get so profound, and the per- plexities so inextricable, that we gave up, in despair, the attempt

to preserve the thread of the story. We were involved in a laby- rinth; the figures danced before our eyes as in a phantasmagoria; and we arrived at the catastrophe in a state of bewilderment. The author seems to have some idea that such would be the con- dition of his readers ; for, after all is over, and the personages are finally disposed of, he makes one of them write a long epistle to another, for the purpose of clearing up the unexplained mysteries of the plot,—a clumsy expedient, which comes quite to) late. A tale, moreover, the interest of which depends on concealments and surprises and discoveries, however well it may be managed, gives but an evanescent pleasure, and will rarely bear a second reading. For this reason, no reviewer of this book, who wishes it 'well, will attempt to tell its story. It is worth one reading; and we shall not impair the pleasure of it. The scene is laid chiefly in New York, and at the present time. The manners of the American beau monde (supposing our author is competent to represent them accurately) are a good deal like those depicted in our own fashionable novels. But few littha- teurs by proft ssion are sufficiently at home in aristocratic society to be able to catch its tone. The literati of France, in the old regime, mingled with the higher orders on a footing of consider- able familiarity ; and yet nothing can be more cutting than the manner in which the Countess DE GENLIS ridicules the pedantry, affectation, and want of truth, of MARMONTEL'S picteres of high life. Our own fashionable novels, (which, thank Heaven ! are gone out of fashion,) are unquestionably full of similar caricatures; for such stiff and elaborate trifling could never have existed in any state of society. There is as much aristocracy and exclusiveness in New York as in London' and there is probably as great diffi- culty for bookmakers to catch the tone of" high life" in America as in England. We shall not, therefore, rely implicitly on the truth of our au- thor's pictures. Ile endeavours to make his fine folks very fine indeed, and yet somehow he is but indifferently successful. His beaus are handsome, elegant, and distingues; his belles all beauty, grace, and accomplishment; and yet there is a sort of gaucherie about them which shows as if they were constantly striving to imitate manners not their own.

One of the principal characters is a scoundrelly impostor who passes for a French Count ; and, upon the strength of a handsome person, dashing manners, and impudence—though nobody knows any thing about him — turns the heads of the whole fashion of New York, and makes the ladies behave like a set of boarding- school misses in a country town. The following is a bit of a con- versation about this personage, between a young lady (remarkable, be it observed, for her elegance and accomplishments) and her "Pa."

" What an elegant young man Count Claremont is !" " " You are going to Mr. Temple's to-night,:Itosalie ?" " Yes, if you please, dear pa." " You will see the Count there."

" I hope not, pa; I think him rather disagreeable." " The ladies are pulling caps for him notwithstanding, they say, in all dim. tions. He is very rich, and appears food of us—perhaps--" " Oh no, pa, only polite." " Well, every thing is for the best." " Yes, me" " I think Temple's girl will manage to--" " To what, pa?" said Rosalie, with sudden eagerness. " Go get ready for dinner, child," said the musiug father, recollecting lints self; it is no affair of ours."

" Yes, pa. No, pa," replied the dutiful daughter, with innocent simplicity ;

and retired to dress.

This is not very far from MTS. TROLLOPE.

We have a chapter full of the sayings and doings at a New York rout. Here is a specimen.

The rooms were filled—the halls—the steps before the door. Family after family of the very highest to (and are there not the loft:est exclusives in a republic?) came pouring tip. Wealthy merchants, eminent con teiellors, just escaped frora their profound tomes to this scene of light and joy ; astutejtages, who huh per- haps recentlysealisl the f tte of wretched criminals, chattered with bright-eyed girls, anti sipped their coffee to duleermusie ; physicians, from the bedside of the dying or the (lead, distinguished members of Congress, ex-Governors and Bank Directors, popular authors (even America begat' to have popular authors), beer taprTh, "voting men of talent " by the score, and /ions in such plenty that they were in each other's way,—all mingled ill the enchanting tide of sparkling pleasure and radiant beauty. The waltz, that airy child of f 'shine and caprice, eVell here, where the pioneer had scarcely dung away his axe, floated like a zephyr.—though, truth to say, withina sadly circumscribed com- ps,. Alusie breathed, champagne exploded ; the pressure Ibr pleasure grew grelter and more insupportable; the sides of the obese were penetrated by the elbows of the enthusiastic. The gentlemen were wedged in closely with one hand and an opera-hat above their beads. Imperial carpets were soaked with wasted wine ; each charming mouth dropped wurds of wit and mirth; those who were ont pressed to get in—those who were in pushed to get out; the roar of new carriages thundered at the door. After all, what is there like a rout?

" Gentlemen will please take their partners," cried the manager of the ball, clapping his hands.

The field was rum much clearer ; some had gone Mr into the card -rooms, and some were at the buffet. A space had beeu gradually occupied by the dancers, sufficiently large enough to enable them to walk through the figures, and a group of girls ranged themselves in their places ; Howard with 3liss Romani, Morton with Miss Temple, and the Count with a tall young lady newly ont from boarding-sehool, full of sentiment, blushes, and flelight. It was evident, from her filament repetition of 3Iy Lon]," that the phrase was a favourite one, and redolent of recollections of " Lord 3Iortimer," and other heroes of circulating libraries. " Dow uneommonly lovely the American women are," said the Count. " Oh, my Lord," with a slight curtsey.

66 When I was in Greece—" " Have you really been in Greece, my Lord ?"

" Why, I almost lived in the Parthenon."

" The what, my Loud? " " The Parthenon. I worshipped, I was fairly in love with it." " In /ore? 01,, my Lord !" and the bloomiug young lady cast down her eyes and blushed decidedly. " And, as I was saying, there was a young Greek girl—"

" A Greek girl, my Lord—" " A most lovely and glowing creature." " Oh, my Lord."

" And site was very, very like you." " Dear, my Lord ; like me?" " You have the same expression about the eyes; and the mouth has tier same—"

" Forward two, and cross over," cried Miss Romain. Why, Miss Thomson, are you not in the cotillon ?" Miss Thomson was so lost in conjecturing what sort of an expression the Count could mean, that she missed her turn.

Next there is a sample of this terrible Count's flirtation with a married lady of the highest respectability and great intelligence.

After the eotillon, the Count resigned Flora and took her mother. Mr. Tentple was in another room at a whist-table. What are these husbands' hearts made of?

"Count," said Mrs. Temple. "Dear madam."

" You have been dancing with Flora." " An angel! " " Is site not ? And just as free and amiable as she is lovely."

" When I was in Vienna," said the Count, with his hand on his cravat, " I

knew a young dutchess—" "Like Flora?"

"Not half so dial/roue', but still like her."

Well." " I knew her ; I—admired, and—" " And you hovel?"

" No ; I could not love, because, although the lady herself was kind enough, yet she had not that sense, that soul, that radiance of mind, if I may say so which Flora has."

"Would they admire Flora at Vienna?" " She would turn their heads."

" And they hers." "What a sensation she would produce at court !"

"I have a mind to let her go."

"Do. Let me take her."

"But what should I do without her ?"

"Come you with us, and see the great world." "One never knows when you are in earnest, Count." " You are looking splendidly to-night," said he, half whispering in her ear. "Nonsense !" said she, tapping him on the shoulder with her fan. "With you two, your country would be well represented at any court in Europe."

"Oh, you men ! what can silly girls do, when we women let you talk so! " "I could worship Flora to-night," he said, in a yet lower tone, "only—

"Only what ?" Again he half whispered in her ear. "Go," she exclaimed, tapping him once more with her fan, "go; you are positively dangerous." She left him as she spoke, and the last wards were uttered looking back.

These quotations are made from the most extractable as well as curious part of the book. It afterwards, as we have said, becomes full of busy and perplexing incidents ; in the midst of which there are some very impressive and interesting scenes. One of the best things is a criminal trial,—always a good resource for producing an agitating suspense. A young lady—the same who calls her father " Pa "—is mysteriously spirited away ; and Nor- man Leslie, suspected, on strong circumstantial grounds, of having murdered her, is tried for the crime. The trial is skilfully con- ducted; though both the idea and the way of working it out are borrowed from the inimitable trial of Effie Deans.

In the last volume the scene is in Italy; and there we have «Thorny ruins, deserted rooms, sliding pannels, Scowling monks, inidum.,,ht murders, and all the machinery of the RADCLIFFE sehool. There is a young girl of noble Ihmily deeply attached to the hero of the book, but sought for the sake of her fortune, by a villanous nobleman, whose only argument in his own behalf, that finds favour in the lady's eyes, is a promise that if she will by marrying him give him a right to her fortune, she may live with her lover in any way she pleases. The girl is pure, in- nocent, high-minded, and romantic ; and yet she not only listens to this proposal, but is ready to accept it,—not doubting (says the author) the propriety but the policy of the step ! The mar- riage tie is lightly enough regarded among the Italian aristocracy, (fficugh the reverse, by the way, is the case among the lower classes); but this, surely, is too bad.

The author writes frequently with eloquence, but rarely with simplicity. His style is too verbose, too declamatory, too excla- matory. He is evidently a young man ; and when his unques- tionable genius is regulated by a chastened taste and a matured judgment, he may write muols bettet things than Sermon Leslie.