The Press.
London, England, 1857-11-14 00:00:00

" You don't know what you are talking of," observed
Brian sententiously; " when I go out 1 shall buy a lot of
land, and take out a lot of good stout labourers and a
useful wife." Here Rupert burst out laughing, and Brian
looked injured and contemptuous, ti 1 the family sense of
fun overcoming his resentment, he could not help joining
in the laugh,
• • • •

Work and talk proceeded merrily ; Henrietta singing
scraps of songs between times, Keene taking them up fur
a bar or two as she dropped them, while the notes of the
canary made themselves audible above all.
" Dora, I shall certainly exterminate that pet of yours
some day," said Keene," where is he now ? Oh, judiciously
perched on a picture-frame precisely his own colour. I
saw you trying to make out where the row came from,
Charles."

" Row !" said Dora, "poor dear Blonde] !"
"Poor dear how much?'' inquired Charles.
" Blonde]," said Keene ; " that you must know is the
name of Dora's fat minstrel up there."
"Henrietta would he an invaluable cage bird," said
Charles," she would sing all the year round. I heard her
all this morning, over her drawing."
" Did I ? I forget."
" A true bill," said Keene.; " you don't always know
when you do it."
" I like your saying anything about it, Mr. Keene !"
said Henrietta.

" What were you singing this morning ?" asked Charles.
" I don't know—ull manner of scraps. What did you
think it was ?"

" Well," said Charles, laughing too, " I acknowledge to
having no more ear than a post. I don't think I should
know the National Anthem when I hear it, if people did
not take their hats off."
Rupert began on this hint to whistle it, and Keene
taking up a second, it really sounded so pretty that all,
including Charles, exclaimed in admiration.
" You should hear Keene and Henrietta sing," said
Dora, " you never hare yet."
"It ought to be Shining River,' " said Alice, looking at
the view visible from the windows, " do, Keene."

"Well, Henrietta," said Keene, an•l very sweetly did
the brother and sister sing the little duet.

3. " Riverston " is one of a class of stories
which have lately been written with peculiar
success. It is the autobiography of a gover-
ness. But " Riverston," though not without
much original merit, is far too close an imita-
tion of "Jane Eyre" to deserve unTialifieo
commendation. There is a wide difference
between a disciple and a plagiarist. " Anne
Sherwood," for instance, is one of that school
of which Miss Brontë may be said to have
been Ithe founder; but the story is perfectly
independent. We cannot say the same of
" Riverston " The courtship of the heroine
and Uncle Gilbert follows so closely i:i the
wake of Jane and Mr. Rochester as to trans-
cend those limits which divide from
appropriation For those readers who can
forget that "Jane Eyre " was ever written,
" Riverston" will probably be a very enter-
taining story. The plot, indeed, is meagre,
but the narrative never flags, and the incidents
are striking and diversified; among them may
be mentioned suicide, seduction, and duelling.
The matrimonial fortunes of the two Miss
Wynters, the elder sisters of Miss Haig's
pupil, and those of Miss Haig herself, form
the staple of the story. One is a desperate
girt, engaged to a quiet young curate, whom
he goads to frenzy by her conduct towards a
stalwart captain of dragoons. The following
scene shows dramatic power. The news of
her lover's fate is brought to Miss Helen at
breakfast, the night after a grand ball at her
father's house:—
"I am too tired to be hungry," Helen said. "Do you
know, papa, I danced sixteen times last night?"
Tired she was certainly ; bt.t as I noticed her look and
tone, it struck me that something more than common
weariness ailed her. The intoxication of last night was
beginning to bring its reaction: I saw that, and with little
Fit!.
Yet, whatever her conscience might be whispering, she
did her best to drown its voice. As we sat round the
breakfast.table she talked so incessantly, that, in the
course of one five minutes, I thiee times noticed Mr.
Vt ynter look up from his newspaper as though about to
speak, and twice turn back, baffled by her volubility,
before be could finally succeed in delivering himself of
the question with which he was laden. But it came out
at last.

" Now, in the midst of all this," he said, " is there any
one who can ter me what became of Edward Beresford ?
Was he hiding himself all last night, or where was her
Helen's lips gave ont no sound ; the only sign that she
heard her father's question appeared in her risen colour.
1 was the only other person who was capable of giving a
reply to ➢ir. Wynter's question; when, therefore, she did
not speak, I said— _ _

" He came late and went early ; I saw both his entrance
and his exit."

7 _ _
At,ain Mr. Wynter addressed Helen, and there was in
his tone a mixture of gravity and jesting.
" What did he do that for. Nelly ? liecau,e he did not
get much encouragement to stay; was that it?"