The Press. — London, England, 1855-12-29 00:00:00

1246 up i u his face, and said, " 0 Antonio !" There was a world of things in this simple appeal. The Itali•tn drew her to Mm, pressed her closely to his bosom. " Lucy," said he, solemnly, " this is no moment for many words." (The firing never slackened while he spoke.) " Lucy, I love you—l have loved you dearly all these long eight years—l shall love you to my grave. But my country has claims on me prior to yours. These claims I vowed more solemnly than ever to respect on that day when prejudice, armed with a pedigree, stood between you and me. On that day I pledged myself anew to my country. Let me redeem that pledge—let me do my duty—help me to do it, Lucy ! Lucy, my noble friend, help me to be worthy of you and of myself. In the name of all that is holy, let me depart without a painful struggle !" The heroic spirit that dictated his the sweetest moment of his life, shone out in his face, and thrilled in his voice. He stood transfigured to more than man in Lucy's eyes. Her more feeble nature raised itself, in this supreme instant, to a height at which every sacrifice of self is possible. " Noble heart!" she said, with a burst of enthusiasm, "Go ! and God be with you and preserve you. I will try to be worthy of yon ;" and she loosened her hold of him " And God bless you for these words !" cried Antonio, almost unmanned, clasping her hands and holding them to his heart. "God bless you!—your love shall be my buckler !" So saying he laid her on a sofa, and whis pered, " You shall soon see me again, or hear from me." He stood for a second to look on the now dejected pro strate form before him, passed his hand over his eyes, and went without another word. i, in The remainder of the story our readers will do well to discover for themselves. It is ani mated and natural, and of a character to please readers of all tastes. Irish Melodies. By Thomas Moore. Illustrated with Engravings, from Drawings by Eminent Artists. London : Longmans. IN the preface written to the latest edition of his poems, Moore took leave of these melodies, with a aincere belief that they were the only work of his pen "whose fame (thanks to the sweet music in "which it is embalmed) may boast a chance of pro " longing its existence to a day much beyond our own." The circumstances which gave popularity to some of these melodies in their day operate to their prejudice now that the circumstances are no longer applicable. - ' -wishness— The timidity—we might almost say the sla\ of Moore's nature is conspicuous in these songs throughout. He sought to give safe vent to Irish dissatisfaction, and to adapt it to the luxurious atmo sphere of Whig drawing-rooms. He toned down treason to pretty sentiment, and warbled out its tierce aspirations in mellifluous lovc-lays. His ardent desire to die for his country went no further than to point such lines as " When he who adores thee ": Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live The days of thy glory to see ; But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give, Is the pride of thus dying for thee. His indignant heart broke only over the piano accompaniment to his songs, and he gladly forsook the beloved Erin, from which only death should sever him, for a cottage in \Vales, that he might live in the neighbourhood o a Whig magnate. Verse like the following was so often and so thoroughly burlesqued by Daniel O'Connell, that it now calls up only ridiculous images The nations have fallen, and thou still art young, Thy sun is but rising, when others are set ; And though slavery's cloud o'er thy morning hath hung, The fall moon of freedom shall beam round thee yet. Erin, oh Erin, tho' long in the shade, Thy star will shine out when the proudest shall fade. The melodies of this kind, and those in which politi cal allusions are veiled in language of fervid desire for beauty's smiles, are out of date already, but the genuine Anacreonics, as " Fly not yet," " When in death I shall calm recline," " Lesbia hath a beaming eye," and " Fill the bumper fair," will no doubt have as lasting an existence as the poet's partiality predicted for them. Of the plates to this handsome volume, thirteen in number, the landscapes, from Creswick, seem to us the best. It is seldom that artists are completely successful in their illustration of poets' fancies. Moore writes, that of the songs written with a concealed political feeling, the celebrated one in its day of " When first I met thee young and warm," alluded in its hidden sense to the Prince Regent's desertion of his political friends: and Byron has left it on record in one of his letters, that the song was quite overwhelming in its effect at Chatsworth. The illustration by Mr. Millais, ridiculously literal both in spirit and manner, represents a young lady, clothed in deep mourning, looking down from a luxuriously cushioned pew, in a lofty church gallery, on a wedding party just leaving the altar! The illustra tions by Maclise, Stone, Frith, and Frost are cheer ful and characteristic, and the book in printing and binding extremely elegant. THE PRESS. Zatidee. A Romance. By Margaret Oliphant. Three Vols. London : Blackwoods. THE originality of this tale would alone secure for it a favorable reception. The reader is fascinated at the outset by the character of Zaidee, and by the strange incident which draws forth the latent power of her nature, and gives motion to the story. The Grange described in the opening pages is one of the most peaceful dwellings in the world. All its in mates have no weightier business than to discuss what festivities shall take place on the heir of the estate, Philip Vivian, attaining his majority. His mother, his three sisters, and his brother, are all equally proud of him. The inheritance is a fair one, the prospects of all are bright, there appears not a single cloud in view. A shy, petted, capricious cousin, a girl of fourteen, who can do nothing but read and write, caressed and spoilt by the whole family, sits in a corner poring over a book, as her wont is. Zaidee's mother VMS a Greek, her father a Vivian, but a younger brother. Both her parents are dead, but as one of the family she does not feel her loss. " Grandfather Vivian," it is supposed, made a will before his death, but it has never been found, and to Zaidee the question sometimes occurs, What if this will should be discovered ? What if Philip should be dispossessed of the estate, and the family involved in ruin ? She is of a dreamy, abstracted disposition—scarcely alive to the reality of things—tall, and slight, and immature—with dark complexion and unformed features, so that it seems uncertain whether she will prove very plain or exces sively beautiful, but with eyes full of intellect andex pression. By accident she lights on the long missing will—Grandfather Vivian has left all the estate to Zaidee. She is caught by her cousin Philip with the instrument in her hand. He will not suffer her to destroy it ; he will not suffer her to resign in his favour. The whole family are determined that the inheritance shall be hers wholly and absolutely. " Will you marry me?" she asks Philip. He gently refuses. Then she leaves the house, determined to die or hide herself. She falls into safe hands, and succeeds in eluding pursuit. She is first a nursery governess, sustains some simple trials, and is then adopted into a family. Seven years pass, and the awkward girl becomes a lovely and graceful woman. Her friends are brought into contact with the Vivians, she sees her cousins without being recognised by them, and learns from their lips that her sacrifice has been in vain. This part of the book is the most striking and dramatic. She communicates with them ; she determines to force on them the inheritance they have been nursing for her benefit, though doubtful whether she is alive or dead. The contest is ended by her disguise being penetrated, and by the acces sion of her cousin Philip to the property of another branch of the family. This story is worked out with so much skill, with such depth of feeling, and emotional eloquence, as to cause the reader to overlook its improbabilities. We are inclined to say that the main fault of the book lies in the character of Zaidee herself, notwith standing that the action depends wholly on her passionate disinterestedness. She always retains her " dreamy abstracted" nature. We never seem to know more of her than lies on the surface. She has but one idea ; that alone makes up her story ; and we miss those fine shades of character which constitute "loveable humanity." But the social sketches are piquantly written, and the personages introduced nicely discriminated, though the tale is of modern day, and contains no out-of-the-way adventures apart from the flight of Zaidee. It is rightly termed a romance, from the poetic spirit which pervades its pages. The writing is affected, or at least mannered, in parts, tending towards what is termed " high flown ;" but against this error we have to set much brilliancy in emotional description, and talent for dramatic effect. The latter portion of the story is highly scenic, and so rapid in the action as thoroughly to engage the mind and rouse the feelings of the reader. " Zaidee" is by far the happiest specimen of domestic romance we have lately met with, and combines qualities which must charm all lovers of original fiction. The Birth-day Council; or, How to be Useful. By Mrs. Alaric A. Watts. Edinburgh Jack. IT is impossible within our limits to do justice to this very admirable little book. We fully agree with the words of the authoress in the preface, that it would be well if children's minds were generally directed to " something better than mere make " believes "—and we must congratulate her on the success with which she has accomplished her own part towards doing so. The heroine of the story, Miss Joanna Ge-scoigne, a young lady of the mature age of twelve, becomes possessed with a desire of being useful, but is disheartened by the considera tion that it is impossible for little children to be so. Hew this notion is dispelled by the practical and judicious treatment of her mother is not the least interesting part of the book—the result being that she assembles her young friends together ,on he SATURDAY, birthday, when they all agree to make such sacri fices as they can for the relief of the poor children in their neighbourhood. The tale is interspersed with pleasing pictures of childish amusements, and shows an intimate and sympathetic knowledge of the character and minds of children. Consumption : its Causes, Prevention, and Cure. By Thomas Bartlett, M.D. London: Bailliere. WE must feel grateful to any physician who gives us his experience on this terrible disease. But Dr. Bartlett is entitled to our thanks in a two fold degree, for he not only expounds to us the causes and prevention of the malady, but positively assures us that it is curable : If the dictates of sound judgment and medical know ledge were strictly acted up to, pulmonary consumption could be eradicated from those classes of society which are not straitened for pecuniary means. The prevention of consumption, when undertaken at an early age, and perse vered in until every indication of the affection has disap peared, is as much a matter of certainty as any thing in me dicine. But then, it costs a great deal of money to change the climate from time to time, and to adopt all the other means which are required to bring up the system to such, a point of vigour as to be proof against consumption ; and this is the reason why this disease, in the nature of things, will always continue to be attended with a very consider able mortal:ty. The wealthy have the power in their own hands of eradicating the disease from their order, by judicious marriages, and persistent attention to their offspring from the day of birth; while poorer persons may greatly lessen its ravages by taking as many precautions as their means will permit. This is, indeed, good news to all classes; and we are still further instructed in this little volume how the poorer ones may turn their means to the best account—what, for instance, are the healthiest suburbs of London, and the wholesomest kinds of cheap diet. The doctor is very peremptory on the subject of dress and exposure to the weather; but we confess, for our part, nothing pleases us so well as his denunciation of the fallacy about early rising. It is time this delusion were done away, and we hope, if on that account only, Dr. Bartlett's book may have a wide circle of readers. PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED.—Dac. 27, BOOKS. Poetise. Walter Whitmore Jones. Longmans. The Shaving of Shagpat. An Arabian Entertainment. Cr. Meredith. Chapman and Hall. Alton Locke, Tailor and Poet. Rev. C. Kingsley. Do. Sermons, Doctrinal and Practical. Rev. W. Archer Butler, M.A. Edinburgh : Macmillan. The Heroes, or Greek Fairy Tales for My Children. Rev. C. Kingsley. Bell and Daldy. Illustrated Handbouk qj Architecture. James Fergana'', M.R.1.8.A. Murray. On the Bonk Charter Act of 1844. Thomas Cooke, F.R.S. Longman': Poems. W. Parkinson, M.A. Bell and Daldy. Princess Ilse. A Legend. Lady Maxwell Wallace. Do. Memorials of Captain Hedky Vicars, 97th Regiment. Nisbett. Paterfamilias's Diary of Everybody's Tou►. Hatchard. Sayah, or the Courier to the East. Chapman and Hall. The Almanack of Science and Art. Do. Mount Sorel. Parlour Library. Hodgson. The Paths of Parliament. Madden. The Sunday Morning Service. Rev. James Hildyard, B.U. Groombridge. The Trans-Caucasian Provinces. Laurence Oliphant. Black woods. Palmerston's last Joke, or th. New Pension Warrants Considered. Stanfcrd. Religion in Common Life. A Sermon. Rev. John Caird, M.A. Blackwuods. Hymns for the Church of England. Leslie. The Irish Quarterly Review. Simpkin and Marshall. ENCAMPMENT IN THE DESERT.—This day we added a new rule to our order of travel—that we should dismount every evening when we came within sight of the encampment, then at about an hour's distance over the plain; and, accordingly, when the white tents appeared, our village home for the night, we sent all those with us forward, people and camels, and han a walk. This last hour was very pleasant, and the walk a great improvement—a strolling saunter, during which you picked up odd pebbles and marbles, and found flowers, very sweet—scented some of them—or you stopped to admire some bit of scenery, or to talk over the spot and its associations; and so you strolled leisurely on to your village. And a cheerful little village it was when you arrived. The encampment was generally pitched in the form of an irregular circle, the two large tents occupying nearly half of it, the three smaller ones bending round from either extremity, and the Arabs, with their camel baggage and camels, bringing round the circle to the front. When you entered within the circle, what a busy and welcoming scene it was, after your long day's ride. The tents all alight with Eastern lamps, the doors thrown wide all temptingly, the kitchen fires burning brightly, and sounds, and scents, and steamy doings on tither hand.— Lowth's Wanderer in Arabia.