The Express.
London, England, 1860-04-17 00:00:00

THE EXPRESS, TUESDAY EVENING, APRIL 17, 1860.

•
and Mr,. Fairbenk were married in April, 1600, that
shortly afterwards they prooseded to Jamaiew, and returned
therm in 1646. He then settled at Donmatar to peaches
Eta' of
a surgeon. At time he bed a
of three daughters. one .if whom .übsequently
died. and is We/ Emotes, the object al Mae
rim* application, wan born. That nulasequently to
hie NMI at Duncuater he and him wife had various
owing to the intemperate habits of his wife.
art the 2%th of September lad Mrs. Fairbank left
am% taw" g with her their youngent daughter, and that
rniebenk bed not been able to diacover the whereabouts
iof Me algid ewer since. There wan no doubt, however,
Uri Mn. rairbeak knew where she 11161/, for in the course
11111111. proceedings in the county court iu November kid
an sorb en to that effect. In conclusion. Mr.
Fabsak stated thAt Mn.. Fairbank being without Maas,
an Well es on ,of her habit., wan An unfit pawn
to lave the matedr of the child.
Mr. Overriel. now *hewed called againat the rale.
Prima facie it moat be admitted a lath., was in all cases
entitled to the custody of his child : it must also be
admitted that the Add France.. Fairhank had been
removed by her mother from beneath Mr. Vairbank's roof.
but that was dote entirely for the pr..tection of the child,
to aye her from being contaminated by the grow. immora-
lity of Mr. Fairhank as well as from his cruelty. Mr. Fair.
hank not only lived in adultery with Another woman, but
he hail actually introduced the adultery.. into hi, hoiwe,and
had thua been guilty of the conduct which in the eye, of
the law disentitled him to the custody of
his children. About five yearn ago Mr. Fair.
bank took ono of the union workhouse a young ,
woman named Vietori, Kendall, who WAY then 16 year, of
age, and nuide her a servant in hi. hone. After three
year. hail elapsed there was no doubt Mr. Fairbank formed
an adultenein connexion with this young woman. This
allegation was supported be the affidavit,. of Mn Fairbank,
the two Mien Fairlunki. and Jane Broughton, another
servant in the family. Upon one feecreeion ictoria Ken- ,
dell'. bedmoini door wa, forted locked, awl oho herself was
miming. Mr. Fairhank was alai mooing although petiente
were waiting for him. Not had he left the hotter, for all •
hi. bat. were hanging up in the hall. Victoria Kendall',
door rem einol cared for three hours, and Mr. Fairbank re.
rimmed hid for three hour.; and until at length one .4 the •
ihnieghter., hearing a "creaking mare" on the stales, wand
out .f her num, and aim her father proceeding Irma
the direction of Victoria Kendall'a room. This she
04111111101110 A to her mother. From a subsequent
inventigation by Mn, Fairbank nod Jane Broughton, no •
doubt woe. left upon their mind. that upon the occasion
of her being n,i.wl Kendall hail hail a miscarriage in her
ro.M, 101.1 til.tt Nlr. FAirlannk wan in attendance upon her.
.lane Broughton depoaent to sleeping in the acme room
with Victoria Kendall, and having twitted her with being in
the family war, and recomineutled her, elf vuch wan
the caw, 10 mention the matter to Mn. Fairhank. To that
Victoria Kendall replied that she mull not .1.. so, as Mr. Fail--
bank might have something to nay to it. Victoria Kendall
had declared upon a preerol4loccuainn to Jane Broughton that
ohm hoed Mr. Fairbank. la consequence of the relation. aut..
states' between Mr. Fairhank and Viet...lie Kendall, as well
an on account .4 her ilinramectful manner to her mietrem,
• Fairbank itincharged her from her servioe upon the
Ist of May last. And to show what were the feelmp of
Mr. Fairbank both toward. his wife and towards Victoria
Kendall, four affidavit. were put in stating that after
Victoria Kendall bad left, Mr. Fairhank's diary wan found
exposed upon his table,and this entry inserted on one page
•• Victoria Kendall has left my howl° thin day,
after four year.' gaol and faithful 'berme." while
on the oprnite page appeared in Mr. Fairhank's
bandwritin4. Mn. Fairhank will awn he blazing in hell."
Flutmememtly a fragment of a letter wee picked up
which wan in Mr. Fairhask's handwriting. It eornmenced
" Dear Kendall." and appointed a meeting with Victoria
Kendall on the platforn, of the York station.
The Lord l'hief Justice law, it appear that Mr. Fair.
hank is living with Victoria Kendall now!
Mr. (teemed-- my tont. After Mrs. Fairbank with.
drew from her hu.laud. home, Victoria Kendall was re.
called, and she had been living there ever since. The elder
daysiden had likewise withdrawn from the house. but
they bad so objrntion b. return if Victoria Kendall was
dismissed.

Mr. IludiDriest said that Mr. Pairbank denied in the
moot distinct moaner that he had ever maintained as
adulterous co nnexiva with Victoria Kendall, or that he had
ever been in 11..1. loodroorn. Also, from his experience as a
surgeon, he moth, take upon Isimaelf to state it wu highly
impodsitile that.he had had a • upon the ceerion
referred to, inunitich a. it would have impossible for
M to have subsequently proceeded with her work, an it
was admitted she had done. And if opus any occasion be
W rocomumendod that Victoria Kendall should sot be
called spoor to do hued work or to carry heavy burtheas, it
was bursa w was swain she hail a weak ankle. V for
Ibo wiry in his diary, is which it was stated that
bo wired so much ill feeling towards Mrs. Pair.
hands, swlasattno suss Nut Mrs. Pairbank was is
the SsSN of constantly telling her servants they
" would Nam in hell i" and that what he wrote
yea not that Victoria Kendall bad that 43y left
hi home after four year.' good and faithful service,
sod that Mee FUrbook would shortly blaze in hell, but that
Viliosia Kendall had left his house after four years'
Wahl service, and that for that she did not doom
lo Mom is hell (alluding to the expression so coostead4
la the mouth of Mrs. Tairbankl. Tina it mu troe he did
=Neatly write to Victoria Kendall in the terms
but he afterward. thought better of
Um matter, and he 431 not proceed to meet
her. It was likewise true he I,,toroil Victoria Ken.
dal ho Ms aerides after Km Furlunk had left, but that
was bosun also had hero exeeedingly valualde to him, and
had boos roost useful in iiiiitiros his utienta.
The Mee losti, 4 ',mid not some arrangement be come
to that would oloint • the ticoessiti of going into all those
dereills„ which Inuit Ir premdieial to the best intereste of
faniili •
Mr. Justice Hill Is the child in London? It i. most
Important she dumbl be in the neiglituurh4s .1 of the court.
Mr. Overend saki she was not, but Mr.. Fairhank would
undertake she should be in tows by to-miim..• morning.
After emu further diem.= it nu speed that the rule
elimakl be made alsiolute, that is to say, the child is to be
restored to Mr. Ku rhauk, sulquet to aa suidortaia. g from him
that M would dismiss Victoria Kendall from his service, and
that Km lei:bank, the mother, should be allowed all rea-
sonable access to the child- -the time. and periods of their
imiterviews to be regulated be a third person to be named by
the counsel on both sides.

THE
FIGHT FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP.
(THIS DAY.)

A telegram received in town this morning states
that the fight between Sayers and Heenan resulted'
in a drawn battle. Th.. content !anted two hours
and five minutes, and wan of a moat desperate cha-
racter.

The !scene of the fight was at a place near Farn-
borough.
Heenan in repremeuted to have been much
punished.

Another and later account says :
" The tight commenced at 7.30 this morning, near
Aldershot, and lasted two hours and eight minutes;
forty rounds were fought ; a severe contest, end-
ing iu the ring being broken into. The battle un-
decided."

GREAT TIRE AT WIZENWICH.-(THIS DAY.)

This morning a fire broke out in the extensive
mamma of Mr. W. Huntley, sash maker, and known as
N9lsel's Wharf, Greenwich. Vast streams of water were
thrown upon the blazing pile, bat the flames continued to
defy the exertions of all present, And mounted so high as to
be distinctly seen from almost every part of London. The
fire was not extinguished until the premises of Mr. J.
Huntley, Mr. P. Corbett, boat builder, Mr. .1. Stapleton,
smith, Mr. .t. Tearer, mast maker, Mr. J. R. Hooter, coal
merchant, Mr. S. Thomas, chandler, Mr. E. Thomas, Mr.'
J. Showells, and Nos. ti, 7,8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, and 15,
on the opposite side, and let out in tenements, were cos-
sidenily darnagod. Part of the loss will fall on the Phcenix,
Sus, and other offices. Raise is due to the military sad
police for their assistance.

MONEY MARKET -THIS DAY.

Two olhooi.

The funds this morning have been well sup-
ported, although very little business is going for-
ward. Console are now quoted a trifle cheaper
than at the cleft yesterday. in the share markets
there is no variation worthy of notice. The general
appearance of the Stock Exchange is firm.
At Paris this morning, according to Mr. Reuter's
telegram, the Three per Cent. Renter were quoted
70fr. 20c., being lie. lower than at the close yester-
day.

The New Victoria Six per Cent. Debenture« are
quoted 104 to f. Business in these secmities
may be said to be for the moment suspended
pending the adjudication of the new loan. The
tenderer; are now aaaembling at the London and
Westminster Bank.

Consols are officially marked 94 audit for money,
and 94/ for the account. The present quotations
are 941 to for cash, and 941 to 1 for
the 9th of May. Bank Stock has been dealt
in at 225 and 223 ; the Three per Cents.
Reduced, at 931, 1, 93, and 1 ; the
New Three per Cents., at 531, 93, 1,
and 93 ; the Indian Five per Cent. stock
of 1869, at 1064, and ; the Five
per Cent. enlaced rupee paper, at 98 and
984 ; ditto Five-and-a-Halt per Cent. at
1031 and ; the Indian Four per Cent. Deben-
tures, of 1868, at 98j, 97, and 981 ; India Bonds,
Si.at die. ; and Exchequer Bills, at 7a. and
prem.

The foreign stock market is quiet, but steady.
Turkish Bonds are fairly supported at yesterday's
improvement, the issue of 1854 being quoted 74 to
77, ex div., and that of 1868, 6111 to 62. Spanish
Bonds retain an upward tendency. Mexican are
quiet, at 211 to 3. The scrip of the New
Brazilian Loan is quoted • f die. to par.
Sales are recorded as follows : Brazilian Four-
and-a-Half per Cents., 1860 (scrip), par ; Chilian
Four-and-a-Half per Cents., 86, 87 ; French Three
per Cent. Routes, 69fr. 26c. (exch. 25fr.); Portuguese
Three per Ceuta., 1853, for account, 43, 431; Russian
Four-and-a-Half per Cents., 97f ; ditto Three
iper Cents., 1869, 66A ; Spanish New
Deferred Three per Cents., for account, 36 ; Turkish
Six per Cents., 1854, 76f ; ditto Six per Cents.,
1858, for account, 611.
Under the influence of a fuller supply of money,
the discount market yesterday was somewhat easier.
The best short bills were taken at the Bank
minimum. Unexceptionable paper maturing within
three or four weeks was even discounted at a frac-
tion lower. For longer periods, however, the
former rates were current, and six months bills
could scarcely be negotiated below 6 per cent. At
the Bank a fair amount of business was done.

Advices from Caracas to the Bth ult. state that
the extraordinary council has authorised the go-
vernment of Venezuela to negotiate a loan for five
millions of dollars, intended for the London and
continental markets.
The Suffolk has arrived from Melbourne with
129,0001. in gold, a considerable portion of
which will probably remain here, in the absence of
demand for the Continent. The City of Manchester,
from New York, has brought 23,0001.
The bar silver by the Tasmanian has been sold at
its. 1 la. per ounce standard, showing no change in
price.. . .

• Owing to the =seasonable weather, English
wheat sold yesterday in Mark-lane at an advance of
2s. to 3e. per qr. over last Monday's rates.
The South Eastern Railway traffic return shows
this week an increase of 4,0791., and the Brighton
an increase of 4,2011, owing partly to the Easter
traffic.

The weekly traffic return of the Great Western
Railway of Canada, just received, shows an in-
, crease of 1,2001. sterling.
I A call of 11. is to be paid on the shares in the
Metropolitan Railway Company by the 16th of
May ; a call of 11. 7s. 6d. on the shares in the Buf-
falo and Lake Huron Railway Company of the
issue of April, 1859, by the 15th of May ; a call of
21. 10a. on the extension shares in the Portadovrn,
Dungannon, and Omagh Junction Railway by the
16th of May ; and a of 51. on the 6 per cent.
preference shares in this undertaking by the same
day
e Atlantic Royal Mail Steam Navigation Com-
pany have announced a call of 31. per share, making
91. paid.
A preliminary meeting of shareholders in the
Antwerp and Rotterdam Railway Company is called
for the 20th inst., in London. . .

The eighth annual meeting of the Madraa Rail-
way Company is called for the 3rd of May.
The half-year's interest is advertised on the City
of Melbourne Loan.
The next oolonial wool sales are fixed to com-
mence on Thursday, the 3rd of May. The fresh
arrivals since the Ist of March last comprise :
Sydney, 4,934 bales ; Victoria, 17,655 ; Van
Diemen's Land, 3,602 ; Adelaide, 10,101 ; Cape of
Good Hope, 6,265—t0ta1, 42,567 bales. Of this
quantity 2,000 bales of the Port Phillip are to be
sold at Liverpool on the 18th inst., but further
considerable arrivals from the several colonies are
expected before the 3rd of May.
The Alboni, Australia, and James Lemon have
arrived from China, with 1,774,4001 b. of tea and
606 bales of silk.

MONDAY EVENING.

Consols, which closed on Saturday at 941,
"sellers," for the 9th of May, opened this morn-
ing at 941 to f , rose to 943 to 1, and closed at
Si 11-16 to 13-16, or 943. For money the last price
was 941. The official business report is as follows :
Three per Cent. Consols, for money, 941, ;
ditto for amount, 941, 1,1; Three per Cents
Beducadt 93, 931, ; New Three per Cents., 93,
931 ; Thirty Years Anna. expiring in April, 1885,
171, Bank Stock, 223, 224 ; the Indian Five
per Cent. Stock, 1869, 1061, ; the Five per Cent.
enfaoed " rupee paper, 98 ; ditto Five-and-a-Half
Iper Cent., 1031, f ;4
the Indian Four ler Cent.
Debentures, IMB, 9 ; ditto 1859, 963, .
The Indian rupee paper was quiet. he Indian
Five per Cent. Stoat of 1859 met with more in-
quiry. Exchequer Bills show • recovery of ls.,
closing at 7s. to Ile. peem.
Foreign stocks went firm. An improvement of
to per cent. occurred in Turkish, the Loan of
1854 being quoted 761 to 77 ex div., and that of
• 1868, 611 to 62. An improvement has also
taken place in Spanish. Mexican Bonds were like-
' wise more inquired for. The scrip of the new
Brazilian Loan was marked 1 dis.
The New Victoria Six per Cent. Debentures
were firmer, at 104 to it. The adjudication of the
balance of 1,078,000!. takes place at 2 o'clock to-
morrow. It may be well for subscribers not to
omit from their calculations the possible effect of
this large demand upon the money market.
Bank shares to-day were quiet, but steady.
Those of the Chartered Mercantile Bank of India,
London, and China were quoted rather lower.
Bank of Turkey were marked If dis. Madras Irri-
gation shares continue in demand. East and West
India Dock stock was marked 119.

The quotations for the shares in new under-
takings were as follow ;—Oce►n Marine Insuranoe,
21 to 21 prom ; Universal Marine, 7-16 to 9-16
Prem. ; London and Provincial Marine, 5-16 to II
prem. ; and Great Northern Palace, i to I- prem.

Tll3 COTTON AND Como PLANT& —Atieonsta
are now being made to introduce the cotton and es
plant. to New Zealand. Coffee-berries how Ceylon sad
cotton-seed from China have arrived at Auckland, and both
are now deposited in the ground in the faith of yielding
profitable results. Seeing that orange. and lemma, and
other delicate fruits, are already successfully cultivated in
the northers portion of the colony, sad that grapes of the
best quality are grown in the province of Auckland, there
is so masc. wk the ooffee and tha coons-plants should not
be oho cult:vated in this land of promise.—
I NM Sodom{ (Load* ESOlll4l4lr, April IA

THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. *

Perhaps the must obvious and easy form of criti-
cism upon a new author, whose fame is. befflzming
to disturb the sleep of the Princes and Dominations
of the literary world, is to remark "a sad falling off."
The public are as glad to be delivered from admira-
tion as from a debt. In the Voltaire and D'Alem-
bert correspondence there is a letter from the phi-
losopher in Paris to the philosopher in Switzerland
describing the reception of a new tragedy by the
author of Mallow& "Of course," writes D'Alem-
bert, "they say of it as they say of everything you
publish, this is the weakest thing be has done.'"

The first thing the public are ready to perceive is "a
falling off," and this shrewd perception is sometimes
stimulated by critics, who of minim are never by
any chance dissatisfied or neglected rivals. For it
is well known that " the literary world," properly so
called, is peculiarly free from any taint of envy,
walk)°, or uncharitableness. However this may
be we are obliged, after a second reading of the
"Mill on the Floss," to express our delighted gra-
titude to the author for a book not only not infe-
rior but in some respects superior, to " Adam
Bede," and it would be impossible to select a higher
stanard of comparison. Adam Bede " was a
revelation to the public of a genius at once brilliant,
subtle, and profound, which discerning eyes had
already discovered in those exquisitely humorous and
pathetic "Scenes of Clerical Life.', The highest
and choicest gifts were seen in those pages allied
with the largest and finest culture ; a Shaksperean
universality adorned with the learning of all the
schools—a learning so lightly and gracefully worn
as to seem nothing more than the natural expression
of a refined and polished intellect ; a wit penetrating
and lambent rather than caustic and consuming ;
an intense psychological insight into the recesses and
byways of human character and motive •, a faculty
of observation wonderfully familiar and acute ; a
suppressed emotion breathing through deep thought
like a contagious atmosphere of sympathy, and a
style unsurpassable in its finished and melodious
simplicity. Here was something very different
from the staple products of the circulating
library. The coarse carpentry which passes for
construction, the sentimentality and smart-
ness which pass for passion and wit : the violent
and stale improbabilities which are called "situa-
tions," the waxen dummies which serve for heroes
and heroines, all the tawdry and tedious conven-
tionalisms of vulgar novelists were wanting here,
and in their stead nature and truth appeared at the
magic summons of a chastened and consummate
art. This is how "Adam Bede" took all hearts by
storm, and surprised thousands of sickened novel-
readers into enthusiasm. The book was felt to be
something new in its poignant truth no less than in
its power, fresh out of the depths of feeling and
experience.

" The Mill on the Floss" is pre-eminent in all the
qualities that have made " Adam Bede" a classic
in the literature of English fiction ; in force of con-
ception, in thoroughness of workmanship, in feli-
city and finish of style. From the first page to the
last it would be difficult to fix upon a trivial or
vulgar thought, an idle, conventional, or care-
less phrase. And yet the design of the story, the
characters, the scenes and the situations, are stu-
diously unromantic, and on the canvas of a less
skilful artist would be considered "common."
Your ordinary novelist, working in the spirit of a
playwright, selects his scenes, his characters and his
situations from the theatrical point of view, with an
eye to "dresses, decorations, and appointments."
Were he to take them from the daily life around him
in town or country, he would never pierce through
the outward rind of circumstance to the core of
mystery within. Renee the factitious, artificial,
unreal life of novels ; hence the moral and intellec-
tual mischief of which novels—now that they have
almost superseded poptry and the drama—are some-
times susceptible. The author of the " Mill on
the Floes ' belongs to an exceptional order of
writers who never sacrifice their art to
• moral, or their moral to art, because their
art is always an expression of the purest
morality, and their morality is always consistent
with the highest art ; and the two are inseparable.
They never preach, and yet through all they write a
searching and subtle ;Fee runs ; and the
reader is insensibly stre ened, refreshed, and
elevated by the vigour, ealthfulness, and sin-
cerity which are stampc:d on every page. It is a
striking characteristic of this author's genius that
it willingly selects its objects from the vulgarest
and dullest class of society—the class, we mean,
of well-to-do, " proper," and correct people, from
whose beaten and narrow path of creeping cares
and sordid comforts all the wellsprings of emotion
and romance seem for ever intercepted and shut
out. In " Adam Bede" the scene was laid among
very rustic , and simple people in a midland
county, and the hero was a carpenter. To be sure,
we have very high authority for this preference,
and it is the privilege of true insight to fashion
out of the dullest and coarsest materials one of the
eternal dramas of human joy and sorrow.
The weaker sort of novelists fly at " high
life," or plunge into very low life in search
of superhuman beauty and ugliness, virtue or
vice, in castles or in hovels, in muslin or in rags.
Not so a writer of the George Eliot order. Such a
writer as this is at once a poet, a seer, and a com-
poser ; • poet to create, a seer to divine and inter-
pret, and a composer to set to noble words the
" still, sad music of humanity." The intimate
harmony of all forma of art is curiously illustrated
in these pages. What cunning draftsman or potent
colourist ever drew and painted with a broader and
firmer hand, or with a surer and more sensitive
touch, a landscape so thoroughly English as " Out-
side Dorloote Mill," or " Garum Firs," or " The
Red Deeps," or an interior so life-like and minutely
real as " Mr. and Mrs. Glegg at home " 1 These
pictures start into life as we read, and haunt the
memory like • vision of early days. How different
from the daubs of careless and ill-taught hands !
Here is no extravagance, no excess, no sacrifice of
truth to " effect," but while the method of the
artist eludes perception, we find that every touch
has helped to bring out a perfect result. Observe, too,
how the broadening "Floes" runs through the story,
as it does through the scenes in which the story moves,
like one of those mysterious recurring themes in
Beethoven's symphonies, or like a chorus in the
ancient tragedy, at once a monitor, a witness, and a
messenger of fate. The catastrophe with which this
story ends is no sudden or hasty caprice of an
author embarrassed with his own creations ; it is
neither forced nor hurried • from the very first page
it is prefigured and foreshadowed • and, painful as it
is, we could hardly, even in poetical justice, wish it
to be otherwise. For though it may be the fashion
of the circulating library and of the stage to resolve
all things into final bliss and marriage, it is not
so in the world of fact • and, after all, there are
complexities, and calamities, and heartaches in this
world of ours, from which death is not only the sim-
plest and happiest, but the only possible release. The
eternal struggle between love and duty is only one of
the commonest of these complexities. If Maggie
had lived to marry Philip, and Stephen Guest to
marry Lucy, each with a divided heart, Mrs. Grundy
might perhaps consider such a termination cor-
rect and satisfactory (and it would certainly
have the weight of precedents in its favour),
but to our thinking it would have been not the lees
painful and repulsive because hearts are perjured
every day.
The " Mill on the Floes," taken as a mere
novel, surpasses nine-tenths of the productions of
inrnea:;:ein*ustai dialunedlocoigniesere:thitne
gstitnpharoriintnengesgpe?switoon:afus,ticiinnugnssreadtzwiactrbtihloesnune7dut,of
tears ;
mereturn turns;
novel
irresistibly
t(pßamhuesertushtbainarepseg omwtdthepliansaicressedceouptotihnoeanatenipolyomqw:,ulliresinisegisons,bm&Ayedtaagßedmoer:
),
than a novel. You cannot, it is true, drop it until
yito:ant haved
to retteititthiroipunghs,inbuatnydouagtainrill ,datry you willtokee
be continually surprised to find how much of large-
hearted and gentle wisdom, of profound and tender
meaning it contains for those who can read " be-
tween the lines."

• The Mill ea the Flom By George Eliot. author of
" Scenes of Clerical Life" and' Adam Bede." 3 vols.
illackvssod sad Sous, Idisburgh and London.

We had marked several menages for extract, but
on referring to these pencil marks we are distressed
rgs
to find that at least tin - ,of the three volumes
are included in their : In this difficulty,
where are we to begin end I Fortunately we
are speaking of a book` *filch Meat already be fa-
miliar to many thousands of readers, and which
not to have read will, a few weeks hence, be a most
unenviable distinction. Idro give an abstract of the
story of "The Mill on the Flues" would be to
give a very inadequate idea of its merits ; for the
i story, ntereltiug and absorbing as it is, is sim-
plicity itself. It is the wonderful abundance and
variety of what we may call characterisation that
makes "The Mill on the Flom" seismic. Taketke
" Boy and Girl ".in the first book, for example : the
wayward, tinPulsive, fretful, impatient, passionate,
atmaitive girl ; the sturdy, doinmeeritig, practimd,
unsentimental boy; was the mind of boyheed and
girlhood ever so dissected and laid bare ? Female
novelists are fond of making men of their heroines
and women of their heroes. Geome Eliot never
commits that wilful and ridiculous mistake.
" Torn," the boy, is " father of the man," and
" Ma4e," the child, ix woman to the core.
Mr. Tolliver, farmer and miller, seemingly pros•
perm; but sunk in embarrassment, always "at
law," and cursing lawyers as the agents of Satan,
more and more convinced that this Istria is a pas•
cling business, sad determined to give his boy a
" scolard's oldie:4lon ;"—Mr. Riley, the sleek, and
Mr. Wakern, the sharp, lawyer ; Jobs. Tuiliver, the
plump, affectionate, feeble, and mildly peevish, and
Her three sisters, "all Dodson* ;" Mrs. Clegg, the
bitter ; Mrs. Pullet, the tearful ; Mrs. Thyme, the
sallow and sour, with their husbands, art- not un-
worthy of the hand that drew Mrs. Poyser. Who-
ever has lived in the country, or in a country town,
knows them well, and recognises* the likeness of each
distinct in its individuality. Even naughty and know-
ingßoh .lakem, who " knew directly he saw abird's
egg, whether it was a swallow's, or • tomtit's, or a
yellow banuner's, found out all the wasps' nests, and
could set all sorts of traps ;" who could " climb the
trees like a squirrel, and had quite a magical power
of detecting hedgehogs and stoats"—with what a
true loving hand this well-known comrade of our
early days-0 f Jodi comiteeque—is drawn ! Then
the "schooltime," the "first half," the "holi-
days," and the awful miseries of grammar mid
Euclid to a boy with a concrete and practical turn,
under the auspices of a classical tutor who believes
in no other sort of training for the young idea ; how
we live over again our boyish troubles when we
accompany Tom to the parsonage of that broad-
chested, healthy, and kind, though incompetent
preceptor, the Rev. Mr. Stelling ! Philip Wakeza,
the deformed son of the hard lawyer, who has the
perception of an artist, the heart of a poet, with
almost womanly tenderness and capacity foe
suffering, is a pathetic character, and it is a mas-
terly stroke of art that makes the need of love in
that withered life immense, and snatches the object
of his hopeless passion away. What are we to say
of the love imbroglio between Stephen Guest and
Philip, Maggie and Lucy 1 Are we to object that
Mr. Stephen Guest is somewhat too refined and ac-
complished a cavalier for the son of • provincial
wharfmger ; rides too well, sings too well, dances
too well, talks too well, and is altogether superior
to oilmills ? No doubt he is a little exceptional
in these respects ; but had he not been exceptional
in taste and culture, he might indeed have jilted
poor little Lucy, but he could hardly have taken
the passionate heart of Maggie by storm. Such
cross-purposes in human affections are unhappily
by no means unusual, but never were the per-
plexities and contrarieties of passion, the feints and
artifices, the self-deceptions and the conflicts of a
divided heart seized with more consummate skill,
or by a subtler hand. Maggie may seem to justify
once more that merciless epitome of her sex, "acorn-
pound of duplicity and self-sacrifice;" but where is
the woman that will throw the stone, or the man
who will not pardon her ? Besides, she is an ex-
ample of selfish passion overcome and of virtuous
devotedness triumphant, and she dies innocent and
pure as when a little child she stood and
with we know not what presentiment of lovtlzan
death, ou the river rushing to the sea. We could
ill spare fur the sake of any happier conclusion the
final chapters in this surprising book—a book that
will most assuredly live.