The Express.
London, England, 1851-02-08 00:00:00

The Daughter of Night; a story of the /'resent Time. Ilittle more, and that Rozenerants and Guildern-
By S. it'. Fthhost. 3 vols. Cullan. i stern were in reality heroes, only unfortu-
The "laughter of flight" is a young girl, em- nately the circumstances of the drama did not allow
ploved in a coal mine—buried, dtiy after day, and them to develop themselves. This practice has been
month and month," a hundred fathomsdeep, through carried out even to the " third robbers." But the last
rock and stone and mineral, down in the bowels of effort of ingenuity is the girlhood of Shakspearc's he-
the earth, and for more than a mile from the yawning mines, the design of which is "to trace the probable
shaft." In the midst of foul air and fouler converse- 'antecedents in the history of sonic of Shakspeare's
tion-.of all that can contaminate the physical and ' women; to imagine the possible circumstances and
moral being—she has beauty and innocence, fatal influences of scene, event, and associates sur-
gifts, which expose her to the brutal importunities ' rounding the infant life of his heroines, which
of the overseer placed over her. Left alone one might have conduced to originate and foe-
evening; in th% pit with the young girl, his ruffian ter those germs of character recognised in their
nature threatens to obtain the mastery, when he is maturity as by hint developed." The result,
arrested by the appearance of the safety-lamp, which as far as it has gone, is every readable and gracefully
is edged with blue, presenting the appearance miners written series of tales, and well worthy the aecom-
call "a fire," and which he well knew "indicated the plished authoress of the " Concordance to Shakspeare;'
presence of explosive gases." 4 horrible idea now a really great work. These little books contain,
suggests itself. Ile hesitates an instant—shall he indeed, so much that is original, that there
save her? Then he pushes past, muttering, "No ! seems no earthly reason why they should not have
let her foind it out." been original altogether. What we complain of is
Seeking his own safety, he leaves her to perish. simply this new fashion of endless illustration, which
Gradually she became sensible of an oppressive closeness threatens to produce us such works as " An Inquiry
in the air, rendering it difficult to respire. A strange, But- into the Mean Temperature of the Winter of Richard
'Alarm's smell began to rise, penetrating to her chest, and the Thinfs Discontent," " Specimens of the Literature
exciting u feeling of nausea, intense sad overpouering.
What could it he ? Melt Shakespeare said could he found in the Bunning
.

Her instinctive apprehension that some catastrophe was
at hand grew stronger—became, in fact, irrepressible.
Breathless racked with suspense, she listenedfur the word
to leave the pit; but iu vain, though assured, front the de-
parture anti the haters, that it must he past the regular
time. What was to lie done? To remain longer was im-
possible ; and she determined, at risk of dismissal, to make
the best of her way to the shaft.
Opening the trap, she entered the next rootage, which,
being betweentwu exhausted boards, was so low and narrow
that she was obliged to move along on her knees. It was
also much darker—that is, though accustomed to see objects
in the dark, and now stooping down, she could not distin-
guish the rails of the tramway. Added to this, the poisonous
odour became more virulent, the heat unit dense air more
oppressive ; and she was yet nearly a quarter of a mile from
the gate-road, or main thoroughfare' itself a mile in length.
As she moved along, a lassitude seized her limbs; an unna-
tural drowsiness' which she could not shake off, weighed
down and closed her eyes; and she began to feel a strange,
reckless indiffiouce to anything that might happen.
By a mat effort she aroused herself, recovering that
precious instinct which urges the nowt deals-rate to prize
and cling to life, even when it would smut to possess no
value. Tien, mustering all her energy, she pushed for-
ward, 'taming the several deserted workings, and through
as many doors, very imprudently forsaken by their attend-
ant trappers, while some were lett open, as if abandoned in
haste. . . . .

Brooks," or "A Treatise on the Tides of llumkt's Sea
of Troubles." Surely it is time to stop.

The Poetical Works of Dr. Goldsmith, with Thirty Illustra-
Hose, by JOHN AIIsOLON, DIRKET FONTEIC. JAMES
GODWIN, and HARRISON WEIR. Condall told Macy.
It would be difficult to discover any new mode of
praise for the writings of " poor Goldy." From his
friend, the ponderous lexicographer of the last
century. to the humblest reviewer of the present day,
all luive given their tribute of laudation to the
author of the Traveller" and the lh,t.rted
Village." Open a volume of sehetions from
English poets, and one name and one's poems you
will surely find, whoever else may lw absent ;
talk about poetry in company, or high or low, and
one mun's rhymes are known and admired. whatso-
ever else may be neglected or unknown. From the
reader of the "Iliad to the last pupil of the parish
school, through every gradation of English readers,
all know and praise one or other of the works cf
Goldsmith. Little wonder, then, that publishers
produce new editions, large and small, cheap and
dear. Each new issue WEIRS to Nell and to repay
what may be ventured on it. In the present case,
we have a compact book of 1'34 pages, well printed,
with thirty illustrations on wood, front the designs of
some of the best draughtsmen of the day. The fron-
tispiece gives a glimpse of English landscape,
" Auburn,thelovliest village of the plain." its church,
its meadows sloping to a quiet pool, its cottages, and
prospects over fruitful fields. A portrait surmounts
the life of the poet : and then through sueceeding
pages we have a fair variety of subjects chosen for
the remaining illustrations. Amongst others we find
a group round the cheerful hearth,

She new thought that the word, perhaps, had been called
nut while she was talking with Black Jean, and so had lw-en
unheeded, or possibly, in the hurry of a general alarm, she
had been forgotten ; and the fearful reflection occurred
that she was curolt from assistance., and, even if she escaped
with life, would have to pass the night in the mine.
She war now in the lust headway, opening into the prin-
cipal passage, and from a rushing sound of water, streaming
down the Mack walls into a drain, she knew she must be
near the first trap. With outstretched hands:she moved on,
bruising her knees on splinters of coal, spillage from the
day's trains, and often grazing her head against the timber-
work above, supporting the mountain roof. But now the
trap was reached, and, raising the click, she drew it open,
when a terrific crash—a loud, roaring, tremendousthunder-
clap, starting and expanding a myriad echoes, drove
through the mine, shooting her headlong into the gate-
road, stunned and breathless.
For a moment she lay perfectly stupified, but than sprang
up, fully recollecting her situation. She had been thrown
where, against re dead-gap, or line of deserted workings,
the scam of coal being exhausted, the props which
sustain the roof had been removed, and vast masses of earth,
tuck, and waste mineral, prey. d by the enormous over-
weight, hint fiction in, forming crude and fantastic heaps,
with continual interstices, which realised the confusion of
clean . She knew that these randorian recesses generate
the baneful stythe, or choke-damp, always following close
on explosions, and which, rolling forth like a fog, carries
death to the remotest nooks ; and she instantly r„.sumed her
fiipht.
fhe way was so intersected by sleepers, supporting the
tramroad, here, in consequence of the greater width, made
to run waggon, that it might he thought impossible to pro-
ceed rapidly; but in king for life obstacles are hale
heeded. ith her hands raised overhead, to beat hark the
foul air, now lacoming more and more stifling, innocent
darted down an inclined plane, nearly dashing against a
row of empty waggoner rata the bottom. Still advancing, she
looked with straining eyes for the least tram of light, as
marking the distant shaft; but all war Idarkness—darkness
visible and tangible., such in made Phoroah succumb.
At last, a feeble streamy flickering, like a meteor, then a
kind of dim light, could be fairly discerned ; but it was not
sufficient to reveal any object, or show even the outlines of
the passage. But Millicent, seeing the shaft so nigh, nerved
herself for a luat etthrt, though, us there were no means of
leaving the mine, escape was apparently hopeless. Already,
indeed, the deadly stythe was rolling by ; her head swam ;
her breath stopped ; a thousand columns of fire Hushed be-
' fore her eyes ; and she fell to the ground senseless.
Millicent escapes one danger only to fall into
others. Beset by her old enemy, " Black Jim," and
• the equally dangerous advances of her master's son,
she is accused of crime—and rescued only through
the exertions of a benevoli•nt surgeon, who coveys
her from the scene, and procures for her
situation—as a domestic servant. Her beauty,
and, above all, her gentle purity—preserved
the midst of her ignorance and rough rearing—
excite the sympathy of her widowed and wealthy
mistress, who finally adopts her. A fashionable
boarding-school dues the rest. The poor colliery girl
becomes a lady, admired and courted, with the noblest
of the land at her feet,—and this in spite of a whis-
per of her origin getting abroad, and sonic humi-
liating rencontres with her old associates. She
even triumphs over the pride of the nephew of
her patroness, whom, however, her conscientious
feeling causes her to reject. In the midst of
these triumphs her benefactress dies. The will
which she has made in favour of her: daughter
she has not had time to sign; the heir-at-law
steps in, and the young girl is left penniless.
Her miseries now begin afresh, and she is rescued,
when nearly on the verge of starvation, by a weaver,
nearly as poor as herself, whose family enable her to
share their wretched mode of subsistence. Sur-
rounded by squalor and penury, she is discovered by
her former lover, who renews his proposals, but
takes advantage of her altered fortunes to accompany
them with a degrading condition. Prostrated by this
crowning sorrow, she is again raised through the
delicate and unavowed agency of a rival of the man
she has loved. The constancy and faithful de-
votion of the brilliant and admired Lord Childers
has in the meantime won her heart. Her hand,
however, she still refuses, her pride not permit-
ting her to subject him to the odium of a Ines-
alliance. This difficulty is overcome in the end by
the death of the heir-at-law of her benefactress, and
her succession to a large fortune. Such arc the main
materials of the story as immediately affecting the
heroine. Some of the most impressive parts of the
book, however, arc those relating to the criminal
course of Belwood, the heir, and afterwards the sue-,
cessor to the mine, and the evil genius of Millicent
throughout. Considered'as a story, the book is dra-
matic and interesting; as a novel of character it has
• considerable merit • and as a delineation of life among
the poor and labouring: classes, it has some higher
claims to attention. It is certainly. not necessary
that every novel should be written with what is in
common parlance " a purpose." Literature, so long
as it elevates and refines, is surely its own reward,
however indirect the gain may be, and unequal,
according to the tendencies and tastes of the reader.
Nevertheless, it must be admitted that fiction is a
powerful weapon in the hands of the reformer and
the philanthropist, and its employment is certainly
not among the worst signs of the times. And should
Mr. Fullom's work contribute, in however slight a
degree, to aid the cause of the poor and ignorant, by
calling attention to their sufferings and sins—he has
surely not written in vain.

Where wont :nut pain ripair,

Ana every stranger finds a ready chair;
a very poetical-looking pilgrim, leaning on his
alpen-stock; a charming glimiNe of a field of ripen-
ing corn; a morsel of a more southern landscape,

When Apennine ascends,
Bright as the summer, ltsly extends:
a bittern, excellently drawn, upon the margin of a
great sedgy brook ; the boys in a N. Maw school; and
a group of cattle in a pool, by H. Foster, which is a
a perfiet little Cuyp. All honour and much profit,
we say, to the men who thus bring art to giro
another charm to good poetry; and profit, too, for
they deserve it.

Masters and Workmen. A Tale. Illastratire °jibe Social
and .tloral Condition of the People. By Lunt 11. Newby.
In the preface to this book we find the author's
political opinions. Ile attributes the pauperism which
afflicts the country to the luxury cultivated by
the upper and middle classes, and the fearful dis-
proportion between the price of the idleness of tho
aristocracy and the labour of the por; and he would
warn us to return to a more primitive condition of
society. Ile is clearly one of the torah party ho
would walk backwards. How fur hack it is his
pleasure to retreat we cannot determine. Whether
he would, if he had his will, discard his tailor, and
bring back the days of paint and red ochre, is a ques-
tion on which we entertain grave doubts. Front his
philosophic height, he perceives that the rich are de-
grading the poor, and that the poor are dragging
society down with them ;" in short, he appears to be
haunted with the uncomfortable idea that he and his
fellow-countrymen are everlastingly standing upon
the edge of a precipice. In spite of these peculiar
and sombre opinions, the work ham interest. Ilis
hero is—a returned convict, who, when the story
opens, has just set his foot once more in England,
after an absence of fourteen years at the expense of
government. This hero, Charles Seaton, has been,
of course, wrongfully condemned, and on coming buck
finds the real offender in the enjoyment of consideru-
, ble wealth.
We cannot follow him through his three volumes
of trouble, closed, as the novelist is in duty bound
to close his work, with the triumph of virtue,
the punishment of villany, and the marriage
of the hero. The adventures of Seaton in search of
his rights are varied, naturally introduced, and told,
if not with the tact of an artist, at least with tho
grace of an amateur. The sympathies of the writer
entitle him to respect; but it is necessary to caution
the world now-a-dars atptinst those who would draw
angels in rags and demons in silks and satins, and
say, behold the mirror of the time. Must false is that
doctrine which would reduce society to a dead level;
and impossible is it to retrograde from civilisation to
barbarism without utter ruin.
We had marked one or two passages for extract,
but the space we have already ceded to Lord
11. prevents us from quoting theta. We cannot
add that the author of " Masters and Workmen" is
a profound thinker, who promises great things in
the future, but we may affirm, in conclusion, that ho
might write some amusing sketches if he would be
content to resign to abler hands the difficult purpose
which he professes to have in view.

The Girlhood of Makspeare's Heroines. 1. Portia, the
Heiress of Belmont ; 2. The Thaneallatiohtcr ; 3. Idkna,
the Physician's Orphan. By Maui COWDEN CLAIM.
W. H. Smith and Son.
To count the number of lines in Shakspeare, would
be as hopeless a task as counting the lamps at N'au-- ,
hall, or the schemes for paying off the National Debt.
But we may safely assume that, for every line that
the poet has written, about an octavo volume has
been concocted by his commentators. Ever since
the time of Schlegel and Haslitt, we have
seen Ingo proved virtuous, Ophelia quite the
reverse, and, very likely, Goneril and Regan
injured persons. We have seen the lightest and
most careless of the poet's passages elevated into
oracles, and the very mistakes of the press tortured
into beauties. But it was reserved fur the last few
years to criticise contingencies. And the present
I fashion is to comment, not upon what Shakspeare
has written, but upon what he might have written,
had he not thought better of it. It has been very
clearly shown by one ingenious person that the
Nurse in " Romeo and Juliet" might have been
. a principal person in the drama if Shah-
apeare had " written up" the character a