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line. But however they may in this resemble the moral conduct of man, it is but doing justice to these favourite children of nature to observe, that, in all their wanderings, each stream follows the strict injunctions of its parent, and never for a moment loses its original character. That our burn had a character of its own, no one who saw its spirited career could possibly have denied. It did not, like the lazy and luxuriant streams which glide through the fertile valleys of the south, turn and wind in listless apathy, as if it had no other object than the gratification of ennui or caprice. Alert, and impetuous, and persevering, it even from its infancy dashed onward, proud and resolute; and no sooner met with a rebuff from the rocks on one side of the glen, than it flew indignant to the other, frequently awaking the sleeping echoes by the noise of its wild career. Its complexion was untinged by the fat of the soil; for in truth the soil had no fat to throw away. But little as it owed to nature, and still less as it was indebted to cultivation, it had clothed itself in many shades of verdure. The hazel, the birch, and the mountain-ash, were not only scattered in profusion through the bottom, but in many places clomb to the very tops of the hills. The meadows and corn-fields, indeed, seemed very evidently to have been encroachments made by stealth on the sylvan region; for none had their outlines marked with the mathematical precision in which the modern improver so much delights. Not a straight line was to be seen in Glenburnie. The very ploughs moved in curves; and though much cannot be said of the richness of the crops, the ridges certainly waved with all the grace and pride of beauty.

The road, which winded along the foot of the hills, on the north side of the glen, owed as little to art as any country road in the kingdom. It was very narrow, and much encumbered by loose stones, brought down from the hills above by the winter torrents.

attached to it was of so frail a nature as to make little resistance; so that he and his rider escaped unhurt from the fall, notwithstanding its being one of considerable depth.

At first, indeed, neither boy nor horse was seen; but as Mr Stewart advanced to examine, whether by removing the hay, which partly covered the bridge and partly hung suspended on the bushes, the road might still be passable, he heard a child's voice in the hollow exclaiming, Come on, ye muckle brute! ye had as weel come on! I'll gar ye! I'll gar ye! That's a gude beast now; come awa! That's it! Ay, ye're a gude beast now!'

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As the last words were uttered, a little fellow of about ten years of age was seen issuing from the hollow, and pulling after him, with all his might, a great long-backed clumsy animal of the horse species, though apparently of a very mulish temper.

You have met with a sad accident,' said Mr Stewart; 'how did all this happen?' 'You may see how it happened plain eneugh,' returned the boy; the brig brak, and the cart couppet.' And did you! and the horse coup likewise?' said Mr Stewart. '0 ay, we a' couppet thegither, for I was ridin' on his back.' 'And where is your father, and all the rest of the folk?' 'Whaur sud they be but in the hay-field? Dinna ye ken that we're takin' in our hay? John Tamson's and Jamie Forster's was in a week syne, but we're aye ahint the lave.'

All the party were greatly amused by the composure which the young peasant evinced under his misfortune, as well as by the shrewdness of his answers; and having learned from him that the hayfield was at no great distance, gave him some halfpence to hasten his speed, and promised to take care of his horse till he should return with assistance.

the last time I passed this road, which was several months since, I then told you that the bridge was in danger, and showed you how easily it might be repaired?'

'It is a' true,' said the farmer, moving his bonnet; but I thought it would do weel eneugh. I spoke to Jamie Forster and John Tamson about it; but they said they wad na fash themselves to mend a brig that was to serve a' the folk in the glen.'

He soon appeared, followed by his father and two other men, who came on stepping at their usual pace. Mrs Mason and Mary were so enchanted by the Why, farmer,' said Mr Stewart, 'you have trusted change of scenery which was incessantly unfolding to rather too long to this rotten plank, I think' (pointtheir view, that they made no complaints of the slow-ing to where it had given way); if you remember ness of their progress, nor did they much regret being obliged to stop a few minutes at a time, where they found so much to amuse and to delight them. But Mr Stewart had no patience at meeting with obstructions, which, with a little pains, could have been so easily obviated; and as he walked by the side of the car, expatiated upon the indolence of the people of the glen, who, though they had no other road to the market, could contentedly go on from year to year without making an effort to repair it. How little trouble would it cost,' said he, to throw the smaller of these loose stones into these holes and ruts, and to remove the larger ones to the side, where they would form a fence between the road and the hill! There are enough of idle boys in the glen to effect all this, by working at it for one hour a-week during the summer. But then their fathers must unite in setting them to work; and there is not one in the glen who would not sooner have his horses lamed, and his carts torn to pieces, than have his son employed in a work that would benefit his neighbours as much as himself.'

As he was speaking, they passed the door of one of these small farmers; and immediately turning a sharp corner, began to descend a steep, which appeared so unsafe that Mr Stewart made his boys alight, which they could do without inconvenience, and going to the head of the horse, took his guidance upon himself.

At the foot of this short precipice the road again made a sudden turn, and discovered to them a misfortune which threatened to put a stop to their proceeding any farther for the present evening. It was no other than the overturn of a cart of hay, occasioned by the breaking down of the bridge, along which it had been passing. Happily for the poor horse that drew this ill-fated load, the harness by which he was

'But you must now mend it for your own sake,' said Mr Stewart, even though a' the folk in the glen should be the better for it.'

'Ay, sir,' said one of the men, that's spoken like yoursel'! would everybody follow your example, there would be nothing in the world but peace and good neighbourhood. Only tell us what we are to do, and I'll work at your bidding till it be pit-mirk."

'Well,' said Mr Stewart, bring down the planks that I saw lying in the barn-yard, and which, though you have been obliged to step over them every day since the stack they propped was taken in, have never been lifted. You know what I mean?'

O yes, sir,' said the farmer, grinning, we ken what ye mean weel eneugh: and indeed I may ken, for I have fallen thrice owre them since they lay there, and often said they sud be set by, but we cou❜dna be fashed.'

While the farmer, with one of the men, went up, taking the horse with them, for the planks in question, all that remained set to work, under Mr Stewart's direction, to remove the hay, and clear away the rubbish; Mrs Mason and Mary being the only idle spectators of the scene. In little more than half an hour the planks were laid, and covered with sod cut from the bank, and the bridge now only wanted a little

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gravel to make it as good as new. This addition, however, was not essential towards rendering passable for the car, which was conveyed over it in safety; but Mr Stewart, foreseeing the consequences of its remaining in this unfinished state, urged the farmer to complete the job on the present evening, and at the same time promised to reimburse him for the expense. The only answer he could obtain was, 'Ay, ay, we'll do't in time; but I'se warrant it'll do weel eneugh.' Our party then drove off, and at every turning of the road expressed fresh admiration at the increasing beauty of the scene. Towards the top of the glen the hills seemed to meet, the rocks became more frequent and more prominent, sometimes standing naked and exposed, and sometimes peeping over the tops of the rowan-tree and weeping birch, which grew in great abundance on all the steepy banks. At length the village appeared in view. It consisted of about twenty or thirty thatched cottages, which, but for their chimneys, and the smoke that issued from them, might have passed for so many stables or hogsties, so little had they to distinguish them as the abodes of man. That one horse, at least, was the inhabitant of every dwelling, there was no room to doubt, as every door could not only boast its dunghill, but had a small cart stuck up on end directly before it; which cart, though often broken, and always dirty, seemed ostentatiously displayed as a proof of wealth.

In the middle of the village stood the kirk, a humble edifice, which meekly raised its head but a few degrees above the neighbouring houses. It was, however, graced by an'ornament of peculiar beauty. Two fine old ash-trees, which grew at the east end, spread their protecting arms over its lowly roof, and served all the uses of a steeple and a belfry; for on one of the loftiest of these branches was the bell suspended which, on each returning Sabbath,

'Rang the blest summons to the house of God.' On the other side of the churchyard stood the manse, distinguished from the other houses in the village by a sash window on each side of the door, and garret windows above; which showed that two floors were, or might be, inhabited; for in truth the house had such a sombre air that Mrs Mason, in passing, conIcluded it to be deserted.

As the houses stood separate from each other at the distance of many yards, she had time to contemplate the scene, and was particularly struck with the number of children which, as the car advanced, poured forth from every little cot to look at the strangers and their uncommon vehicle. On asking for John Macclarty's, three or four of them started forward to offer themselves as guides; and running before the car, turned down a lane towards the river, on a road so deep with ruts, that, though they had not twenty yards to go, it was attended with some danger. Mrs Mason, who was shaken to pieces by the jolting, was very glad to alight; but her limbs were in such a tremor, that Mr Stewart's arm was scarcely sufficient to support her to the door.

in it a plentiful supply of water, in which they could swim without danger. Happily Mr Stewart was provided with boots, so that he could take a firm step in it, while he lifted Mrs Mason, and set her down in safety within the threshold. But there an unforeseen danger awaited her, for there the great whey pot had stood since morning, when the cheese had been made, and was at the present moment filled with chickens, which were busily picking at the bits of curd which had hardened on the sides, and cruelly mocked their wishes. Over this Mr Stewart and Mrs Mason unfortunately tumbled. The pot was overturned, and the chickens, cackling with hideous din, flew about in all directions, some over their heads, and others making their way by the hallan (or inner door) into the house. The accident was attended with no further bad consequences than a little hurt upon the shins: and all our party were now assembled in the kitchen; but, though they found the doors of the house open, they saw no appearance of any inhabitants. At length Mrs Macclarty came in, all out of breath, followed by her daughters, two big girls of eleven and thirteen years of age. She welcomed Mrs Mason and her friends with great kindness, and made many apologies for being in no better order to receive them; but said that both her gudeman and herself thought that her cousin would have stayed at Gowan-brae till after the fair, as they were too far off at Glenburnie to think of going to it; though it would, to be sure, be only natural for Mrs Mason to like to see all the grand sights that were to be seen there; for, to be sure, she would gang mony places before she saw the like. Mrs Mason smiled, and assured her she would have more pleasure in looking at the fine view from her door than in all the sights at the fair.

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Ay, it's a bonny piece of corn, to be sure,' returned Mrs Macelarty with great simplicity; but then, what with the trees, and rocks, and wimplings o' the burn, we have nae room to make parks o' ony size.'

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'But were your trees, and rocks, and wimplings of the burn all removed,' said Mr Stewart, then your prospect would be worth the looking at, Mrs Macclarty; would it not?'

Though Mr Stewart's irony was lost upon the good woman, it produced a laugh among the young folks, which she, however, did not resent, but immediately fell to busying herself in sweeping the hearth, and adding turf to the fire, in order to make the kettle boil for tea.

'I think,' said Miss Mary, you might make your daughters save you that trouble,' looking at the two girls, who stood all this time leaning against the wall.

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'O, poor things,' said their mother, they have not been used to it; they have eneugh of time for wark yet.' 'Depend upon it,' said Mrs Mason, young people can never begin too soon; your eldest daughter there will soon be as tall as yourself.'

when she likes.'

And does she not always like to do all she can?' said Mrs Mason.

Indeed she's of a stately growth,' said Mrs Macclarty, pleased with the observation; and Jenny there is little ahint her; but what are they but bairns yet for a' that! In time, I warrant, they'll do weel It must be confessed that the aspect of the dwell-eneugh. Meg can milk a cow as weel as I can do, ing where she was to fix her residence was by no means inviting. The walls were substantial, built, like the houses in the village, of stone and lime; but they were blackened by the mud which the cart-wheels had spattered from the ruts in winter; and on one side of the door completely covered from view by the contents of a great dunghill. On the other, and directly under the window, was a squashy pool, formed by the dirty water thrown from the house, and in it about twenty young ducks were at this time dabbling.

At the threshold of the door, room had been left for a paving-stone, but it had never been laid; and consequently the place became hollow, to the great advantage of the younger ducklings, who always found

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O, we mauna complain,' returned the mother; she does well eneugh.'

The gawky girl now began to rub the wall up and down with her dirty fingers; but happily the wall was of too dusky a hue to be easily stained. And here let us remark the advantage which our cottages in general possess over those of our southern neighbours; theirs being so whitened up, that no one can have the comfort of laying a dirty hand upon them without leaving the impression; an inconvenience which reduces people to the necessity of learning to

79

stand upon their legs, without the assistance of their hands; whereas, in our country, custom has rendered the hands in standing at a door, or in going up or down a stair, no less necessary than the feet, as may be plainly seen in the finger-marks which meet one's eye in all directions.

Some learned authors have indeed adduced this propensity in support of the theory which teaches that mankind originally walked upon all fours, and that standing erect is an outrage on the laws of nature; while others, willing to trace it to a more honourable source, contend that, as the propensity evidently prevails chiefly among those who are conscious of being able to transmit the colour of their hands to the objects on which they place them, it is decidedly an impulse of genius, and, in all probability, derived from our Pictish ancestors, whose passion for painting is well known to have been great and universal.

The interior arrangements and accommodation of this unpromising cottage are neglected and uncomfortable. The farmer is a good easy man, but his wife is obstinate and prejudiced, and the children self-willed and rebellious. Mrs Mason finds the family quite incorrigible, but she effects a wonderful change among their neighbours. She gets a school established on her own plan, and boys and girls exert themselves to effect a reformation in the cottages of their parents. The most sturdy sticklers for the gude auld gaits are at length convinced of the superiority of the new system, and the village undergoes a complete transformation. In the management of these humble scenes, and the gradual display of character among the people, Mrs Hamilton evinces her knowledge of human nature, and her fine tact and discrimination as a novelist.

HANNAH MORE.

MRS HANNAH MORE adopted fiction merely as a means of conveying religious instruction. She can scarcely be said to have been ever 'free of the cor

Hannah More

poration' of novelists; nor would she perhaps have cared much to owe her distinction solely to her con

nexion with so motley and various a band. Hannah withdrew from the fascinations of London society, the theatres and opera, in obedience to what she considered the call of duty, and we suspect Tom Jones and Peregrine Pickle would have been as unworthy in her eyes. This excellent woman was one of five daughters, children of Jacob More, who taught a school in the village of Stapleton, in Gloucestershire, where Hannah was born in the year 1745. The family afterwards removed to Bristol, and there Hannah attracted the attention and patronage of Sir James Stonehouse, who had been many years a physician of eminence, but afterwards took orders and settled at Bristol. In her seventeenth year she published a pastoral drama, The Search after Happiness, which in a short time went through three editions. Next year she brought out a tragedy, The Inflexible Captive. In 1773 or 1774 she made her entrance into the society of London, and was domesticated with Garrick, who proved one of her kindest and steadiest friends. She was received with favour by Johnson, Reynolds, Burke, &c. Her sister has thus described her first interview with the great English moralist of the eighteenth century:

'We have paid another visit to Miss Reynolds; she had sent to engage Dr Percy (Percy's Collection, now you know him), quite a sprightly modern, instead of a rusty antique, as I expected: he was no sooner gone than the most amiable and obliging of women, Miss Reynolds, ordered the coach to take us to Dr Johnson's very own house: yes, Abyssinian Johnson! Dictionary Johnson! Ramblers, Idlers, and Irene Johnson! Can you picture to yourselves the palpitation of our hearts as we approached his mansion? The conversation turned upon a new work of his just going to the press (the Tour to the Hebrides), and his old friend Richardson. Mrs Williams, the blind poet, who lives with him, was introduced to us. She is engaging in her manners, her conversation lively and entertaining. Miss Reynolds told the doctor of all our rapturous exclamations on the road. He shook his scientific head at Hannah, and said "she was a silly thing!" When our visit was ended, he called for his hat, as it rained, to attend us down a very long entry to our coach, and not Rasselas could have acquitted himself more en cavalier. We are engaged with him at Sir Joshua's on Wednesday eveningwhat do you think of us? I forgot to mention, that not finding Johnson in his little parlour when we came in, Hannah seated herself in his great chair, hoping to catch a little ray of his genius: when he heard it, he laughed heartily, and told her it was a chair on which he never sat. He said it reminded him of Boswell and himself when they stopt a night, as they imagined, where the weird sisters appeared to Macbeth. The idea so worked on their enthusiasm, that it quite deprived them of rest. However, they learned the next morning, to their mortification, that they had been deceived, and were quite in another part of the country.'

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In a subsequent letter (1776), after the publication of Hannah's poem, Sir Eldred of the Bower,' the same lively writer says- If a wedding should take place before our return, don't be surprisedbetween the mother of Sir Eldred and the father of my much-loved Irene; nay, Mrs Montagu says if tender words are the precursors of connubial engagements, we may expect great things, for it is nothing but "child," "little fool," "love," and "dearest." After much critical discourse, he turns round to me, and with one of his most amiable looks, which must be seen to form the least idea of it, he says, "I have heard that you are engaged in the useful and honourable employment of teaching young ladies." Upon which, with all the same ease, familiarity, and confi

dence we should have done had only our own dear Dr
Stonehouse been present, we entered upon the his-
tory of our birth, parentage, and education; showing
how we were born with more desires than guineas,
and how, as years increased our appetites, the cup-
board at home began to grow too small to gratify
them; and how, with a bottle of water, a bed, and a
blanket, we set out to seek our fortunes; and how we
found a great house with nothing in it; and how it
was like to remain so, till, looking into our knowledge-
boxes, we happened to find a little larning, a good
thing when land is gone, or rather none; and so at
last, by giving a little of this little larning to those
who had less, we got a good store of gold in return;
but how, alas! we wanted the wit to keep it. "I
love you both," cried the inamorato-" I love you all
five. I never was at Bristol-I will come on purpose
to see you.
What! five women live happily together!
I will come and see you-I have spent a happy
evening-I am glad I came-God for ever bless you!
you live lives to shame duchesses." He took his leave
with so much warmth and tenderness, we were quite
affected at his manner. If Hannah's head stands
proof against all the adulation and kindness of the
great folks here, why, then, I will venture to say no-
thing of this kind will hurt her hereafter. A literary
anecdote: Mrs Medalle (Sterne's daughter) sent to
all the correspondents of her deceased father, begging
the letters which he had written to them; among
other wits, she sent to Wilkes with the same request.
He sent for answer, that as there happened to be
nothing extraordinary in those he had received, he
had burnt or lost them. On which the faithful
editor of her father's works sent back to say, that if
Mr Wilkes would be so good as to write a few letters
in imitation of her father's style, it would do just as
well, and she would insert them.'

In 1777 Garrick brought out Miss More's tragedy of Percy at Drury Lane, where it was acted seventeen nights successively. Her theatrical profits amounted to £600, and for the copyright of the play she got £150 more. Two legendary poems, Sir Eldred of the Bower, and The Bleeding Rock, formed her next publication. In 1779 the third and last tragedy of Hannah More was produced; it was entitled The Fatal Falsehood, but was acted only three nights. At this time she had the misfortune to lose her friend Mr Garrick by death, an event of which she has given some interesting particulars in her letters.

little effect. On the Sunday he was in good spirits and free from pain; but as the suppression still continued, Dr Cadogan became extremely alarmed, and sent for Pott, Heberden, and Schomberg, who gave him up the moment they saw him. Poor Garrick stared to see his room full of doctors, not being conscious of his real state. No change happened till the Tuesday evening, when the surgeon who was sent for to blister and bleed him made light of his illness, assuring Mrs Garrick that he would be well in a day or two, and insisted on her going to lie down. Towards morning she desired to be called if there was the least change. Every time that she administered the draughts to him in the night, he always squeezed her hand in a particular manner, and spoke to her with the greatest tenderness and affection. Immediately after he had taken his last medicine, he softly said, "Oh dear!" and yielded up his spirit with a groan, and in his perfect senses. His behaviour during the night was all gentleness and patience, and he frequently made apologies to those about him for the trouble he gave them. On opening him, a stone was found that measured five inches and a-half round one way, and four and a-half the other; yet this was not the immediate cause of his death; his kidneys were quite gone. I paid a melancholy visit to the coffin yesterday, where I found room for meditation till the mind "burst with thinking." His new house is not so pleasant as Hampton, nor so splendid as the Adelphi, but it is commodious enough for all the wants of its inhabitant; and besides, it is so quiet that he never will be disturbed till the eternal morning, and never till then will a sweeter voice than his own be heard. May he then find mercy! They are preparing to hang the house with black, for he is to lie in state till Monday. I dislike this pageantry, and cannot help thinking that the disembodied spirit

must look with contempt upon the farce that is played could not be avoided, as he is to be laid in the abbey over its miserable relics. But a splendid funeral with such illustrious dust, and so many are desirous of testifying their respect by attending. I can never cease to remember with affection and gratitude so warm, steady, and disinterested a friend; and I can never witnessed in any family more decorum, promost truly bear this testimony to his memory, that I priety, and regularity, than in his; where I never saw a card, nor even met (except in one instance) a person of his own profession at his table, of which Mrs Garrick, by her elegance of taste, her correctness of manners, and very original turn of humour, was the brightest ornament. All his pursuits and tastes were so decidedly intellectual, that it made the society, and the conversation which was always to be found in his circle, interesting and delightful.'

In 1782 Miss More presented to the world a volume of Sacred Dramas, with a poem annexed, enand Johnson said he thought her the best of the titled Sensibility. All her works were successful, female versifiers. The poetry of Hannah More is now forgotten, but Percy' is a good play, and it is clear that the authoress might have excelled as difficult species of composition. In 1786 she published another volume of verse, Florio, a Tale for

a dramatic writer, had she devoted herself to that

"From Dr Cadogan's I intended to have gone to the Adelphi, but found that Mrs Garrick was at that moment quitting her house, while preparations were making for the last sad ceremony: she very wisely fixed on a private friend's house for this purpose, where she could be at her ease. I got there just before her; she was prepared for meeting me; she ran into my arms, and we both remained silent for some minutes at last she whispered, "I have this moment embraced his coffin, and you come next." She soon recovered herself, and said with great composure, "The goodness of God to me is inexpressible; I desired to die, but it is his will that I should live, and he has convinced me he will not let my life be quite miserable, for he gives astonishing strength to my body, and grace to my heart; neither do I deserve, but I am thankful for both." She thanked me a thousand times for such a real act of friendship, and bade me be comforted, for it was God's will. She told me they had just returned from Althorp, Lord Spencer's, where he had been reluctantly dragged, for he had felt unwell for some time; but during his visit * These meetings were called the Blue Stocking Club, in conhe was often in such fine spirits, that they could not sequence of one of the most admired of the members, Mr Benbelieve he was ill. On his return home, he appointed jamin Stillingfleet, always wearing blue stockings. The appelCadogan to meet him, who ordered him an emetic,lation soon became general as a name for pedantic or ridicuthe warm bath, and the usual remedies, but with very Hannah More's poem proceeds on the

Fine Gentlemen and Fine Ladies; and The Bas Bleu, or Conversation. The latter (which Johnson complimented as 'a great performance') was an elaborate eulogy on the Bas Bleu Club, a literary assembly that met at Mrs Montagu's.* The following couplets

lous literary ladies.

have been quoted and remembered as terse and tual cultivation, from the palace to the cottage, it pointed:is impossible not to rank her among the best benefactors of mankind.

In men this blunder still you find,
All think their little set mankind.'
'Small habits well pursued betimes,
May reach the dignity of crimes.'

The great success of the different works of our authoress enabled her to live in ease, and to dispense charities around her. Her sisters also secured a competency, and they all lived together at Barley Such lines mark the good sense and keen observa- chased and improved. From the day that the Grove, a property of some extent which they purtion of the writer, and these qualities Hannah now school was given up, the existence of the whole sisresolved to devote exclusively to high objects. The terhood appears to have flowed on in one uniform gay life of the fashionable world had lost its charms, current of peace and contentment, diversified only by and, having published her Bas Bleu,' she retired to new appearances of Hannah as an authoress, and the a small cottage and garden near Bristol, where her ups and downs which she and the others met with sisters kept a flourishing boarding-school. Her first in the prosecution of a most brave and humane exprose publication was Thoughts on the Importance of periment-namely, their zealous effort to extend the Manners of the Great to General Society, produced the blessings of education and religion among the in 1788. This was followed in 1791 by an Estimate inhabitants of certain villages situated in a wild of the Religion of the Fashionable World. As a means of counteracting the political tracts and exer- who, from a concurrence of unhappy local and temcountry some eight or ten miles from their abode, tions of the Jacobins and levellers, Hannah More, porary circumstances, had been left in a state of in 1794, wrote a number of tales, published monthly ignorance hardly conceivable at the present day." under the title of The Cheap Repository, which at-These exertions were ultimately so successful, that tained to a sale of about a million each number. the sisterhood had the gratification of witnessing a Some of the little stories (as the Shepherd of yearly festival celebrated on the hills of Cheddar, Salisbury Plain') are well told, and contain striking where above a thousand children, with the members moral and religious lessons. With the same object, of female clubs of industry (also established by our authoress published a volume called Village them), after attending church service, were regaled Politics. Her other principal works are-Strictures at the expense of their benefactors. Hannah More on the Modern System of Female Education, 1799; died on the 7th of September 1833, aged eightyHints towards Forming the Character of a Young Prin- eight. She had made about £30,000 by her writcess, 1805; Calebs in Search of a Wife, comprehend-ings, and she left, by her will, legacies to charitable ing Observations on Domestic Habits and Manners, and religious institutions amounting to £10,000. Religion and Morals, two volumes, 1809; Practical In 1834, Memoirs of the Life and Correspondence Piety, or the Influence of the Religion of the Heart on the of Mrs Hannah More, by William Roberts, Esq., Conduct of Life, two volumes, 1811; Christian Morals, were published in four volumes. In these we have two volumes, 1812; Essay on the Character and Writings of St Paul, two volumes, 1815; and Moral a full account by Hannah herself of her London life, and many interesting anecdotes. Sketches of Prevailing Opinions and Manners, Foreign and Domestic, with Reflections on Prayer, 1819. The collection of her works is comprised in eleven volumes octavo. The work entitled' Hints towards Forming the Character of a Young Princess,' was written with a view to the education of the Princess Charlotte, on which subject the advice and assistance of Hannah More had been requested by Queen Charlotte. Of Colebs,' we are told that ten editions were sold in one year-a remarkable proof of the popularity of the work. The tale is admirably written, with a fine vein of delicate irony and sarcasm, and some of the characters are well depicted, but, from the nature of the story, it presents few incidents or embellishments to attract ordinary novel readers. It has not inaptly been styled a dramatic sermon.' Of the other publications of the authoress, we may say, with one of her critics, 'it would be idle in us to dwell on works so well known as the "Thoughts on the Manners of the Great," Essay on the Religion of the Fashionable World," and so on, which finally established Miss More's name as a great moral writer, possessing a masterly command over the resources of our language, and devoting a keen wit and a lively fancy to the best and noblest of purposes.' In her latter days there was perhaps a tincture of unnecessary gloom or severity in her religious views; yet, when we recollect her unfeigned sincerity and practical benevolence-her exertions to instruct the poor miners and cottagers-and the untiring zeal with which she laboured, even amidst severe bodily infirmities, to inculcate sound principles and intellec

the "

mistake of a foreigner, who, hearing of the Blue Stocking

Club, translated it literally Bas Bleu.' Byron wrote a light satirical sketch of the Blues of his day-the frequenters of the London saloons-but it is unworthy of his genius.

LADY MORGAN..

LADY MORGAN (Sidney Owenson) has, during the last thirty or forty years, written in various departments of literature-in poetry, the drama, novels, biography, ethics, politics, and books of travels. Whether she has written any one book that will become a standard portion of our literature, is doubtful, but we are indebted to her pen for a number of clever lively national sketches and anecdotes. She has fought her way to distinction, self-educated, in the midst of raillery, sarcasm, and vituperation, provoked on the one hand by her careless and bold avowal of liberal opinions on questions of politics and the 'minor morals' of life, and on the other by her ill-concealed worship of the fashions and follies of the great, which has led her democratic friends to pronounce the pretty severe opinion, that there is not a pernicious vanity or affectation belonging to tuft-hunting or modishness, which she does not labour to confirm and strengthen by precept, sentiment, and her own goodly example.' If Lady Morgan has not always taste, she has talent; if she has not always delicacy, she speaks boldly and freely; if she has got into the society of the great (the reputation of her writings, like those of Swift, doing the office of a blue ribbon or of a coach-and-six). she has told us all she knows about them. She has been as liberal of satire and sarcasm as of adulation. She has a masculine disregard of common opinion or censure, and a temperament, as she herself states, 'as cheery and genial as ever went to that strange medley of pathos and humour-the Irish character." Mr Owenson, the father of our authoress, was a

* Quarterly Review, 1834.

+ Westminster Review, Oct. 1829.

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