The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1824-11-25 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

ALICE ALLAN AM) OTHER TALES.
Qv ALEMANDVM WILSON.
0. R. WM:taker.

This is an amusing little volume, consisting of six In-
terestingly-told tale:, the very names of which have a
lightsome and commendable air Aiwa them:—Alice Allan
—My Aunt's Arm Chair--Poor Parents—The Country
Town—Fanny West---anel Imrotiuction to London. Judg-
ing by certain internal evidences, we should conclude our
Author to be a new aspirant to literary fame. There
seems to have been a Lind of limitation and sloubtfeemera
prevailing in mind when touching en seine of the most
(l. !Mate of cur sympathies, and which prevented him from
drawing with a bold hand those primary and half-hidden
features of the human heart, of whose nature it is evident
he is by no mans unconscious. This misgiving of his
own powers has, therefore, caused hill] to sketch his cha-
racters, in some instances, in somewhat too rapid and
evanescent a manner; we regret this, inasmuch as we are
convinced, by what be has given us, that Mr. Alexander
Wiliam possesses ample qualiticatioas to pourtray the full
developines of the vatic(' passions of the mind and heart
of man. This want of decision, too, has obviously been
the occasion, in one or two instances, of what in other
writers would be considered the effect of carelessness.
But these are trifling matters, for which we are fully com-
pensated in other respects. We are precluded by our
limits from taking a critical review of each Tale, and meet
tht rcfore content oniselves with a general glance at the
whole of them. The first thing that struck us in the
le instil of this volume was its smooth, flowing, and un-
at:lcsed style. Without drat, or even an appearance of
the leaye attention to construction, there is a euphony,
and an easy finished rounding to almost every sen-
tence, that gives a grace and a charm to the simplest
recital, and the moat familiar observation. The tran-
sitions, too, are equally happy; there are no abrupt di-
gressiens ; no suddon changing of the flow of thought,
hut each succeeding part seems gradually and naturally
to giuw out of the former, so that the mind of the
reader is impemptihly led on to matters which are in reality
the most remote from those on which it was first engaged.
It is. however, questionable, 'A:ether this facility of vary-
ing the subject be not rather a defect than othcrwite., inas-
much as it prevents the writer front dwelling sufficiently
lung on the one which should be the most prominent, by
te ttt t tire: hint to diversify too frequently, and thus in effect
reduce. the main plot of Itia story to a mere Episode. But,
be it S. d, feet or not, it has Arun:A the author before us
an opportunity of giving in his "Introduction to London"
a ercater variety of scare and eventfulness of history, than
aro to he met with in many of our most celebrated writers
of Talcs, whose anipliticattuns requite the space of 4 vols.
octavo to encompass them. We were happy at finding a
chastened spirit pervading the whole of this work. There
is a metal retribution observed throughout; virtue is not
•!..prtssed, nor vice exalted, as is too of ten the case, as well
is hooka as in real life. This is a feature too much ne-
glected by our best authors; who seem to imagine that the
unite distorted and outri: their personages are, and the more
outran tout and conirattictory to nature, and the actual oc-
currences and experiente of tl:e world, are the events they
relate, the greater will be the Mal their imagination will
receive, and the inure ample the range for their genius to
display itself. We by no means advocate the straight-
laced morality of those who deem poetry an abomination,
and the Stage the very sanctum auncturum of Satan; but
there is a mural fitness to be observed in all that emanates
from the mind, especially when it comes from those gifted
with the highest pi ivileges ef intellect,—a rich imagination,
a discursive fancy, anu a genius at once towering and pro-
found. The following extract front "My Aunt's Ann
Clair " has a peculiar pathos at its close that tells to the
heart inure irresistibly than a whole lecture of cold dog-
matical morality would do. M•Alton had committed
forgery, and, escaping
.from prison, had sought refuge in
America. it was at this point that the narrative of •• My
Aunt" terminated.

" A few years after, I learnt aomething of my uncle Robert,
which was particularly interesting to toe. It was communicated by
an old Cairo: Orient' of his, woo many years before had served
in the Briiisti American tinny :
• One day, tarn' Meath:cry I went to the House cf Represenia.
lives to hear a taw specimens ut Itepubiican eloquence, before my
return to England. The debate was opened by au old man, one of
she Ministers, in a rude, but forcible siieech--he was folloaed by
an officer more diAtingult.lted fur his zeal titan his talent. After the
latter had ut down, a ono, pause emitted, when a graceful young
man addressed the a scutbly iu a modest style tit eloquence; at
lion he was out listened to with much att.:noon ; but as he pro.
ceeticil, the silence of the house accompanied Min, tall it was broken
by a general and enthusiastic cheat, ankh gradually swillid into
one of the most ere Wagrig shouts that I aver head. The im-
pression made upon me uy the speech of the young crater was so
grett, that I was anxious to learn his name—tt wit given me as
Hubert itl'Alton-1 remeniutred my old triend, of whose late I
had brand, and whose valour 1 had witnessed iu the war of inde-
pendesiee ; it inunahately occurred to me that the prolog min
whose maiden speech I had been delighted with, was the sun of
my friend ; and I therelure lust no lime in making myself known
to lion. He recited inc with an unaffected sincerity, and stren_
. marl/ insisted on soy accompanying lima the neat matting to the
country house of his lather. • .%tt English tried, said the youth,
• will gladdest my ladier's Ileille—tut his heart is with Etighinu
still.'

My ride into the country wi•ls young M•Alton was an ex-
tremely pleasant one: i.e gave me abutment information on the
mantiers sat the people, and progress ui the Union towards civiliza-
tion red stability. It was evet.iug a hen we approached his father's
Orel:nig. • 'l'nere arc of lily mum,' said my companion, as
we descended into a pleasant vale. They came to meet us, and
were aeznnipaue:il by a sweet girl, whose welcotne•was given to us
with a feeling not to be mistaken. The plantations through which
we passed were laid out with much tare and taster the natural
beauty of the spot had been effectually iniptuv,d ; nod round the
lake, !itch un that evening was as eaten as it well could be, the
hark willow and the Virginia elm were scattered amongst *liver
poplars, maple, sassefras sett sumac tiee-a: here and thete the wil-
-1 'wit bait lir titer It. water, and semen to rest upon the quiet
Liosan id the lake. It was Indeed a sweet *pus, and when contrasted
with the breadth of usiefiatated country around, it *rimmed lake a
isradise in rite wailernese

Char, plactil Leman ! contrasted lake
• With WC Wide wur.d I dwelt in, seems a thing
• That wane, hie with its *Witless to lursake
• k.....rth's truublai waters fur a purer spring.'

As we Peered the cottage, the youngest daughter suddenly left
My hand, whizli sac had involuntarily tales when her hi other said,
• Kate, this is a friend of papa's, front England,' and bosomed be-
fore us to thedweli i g, joymily reclaiming, as she Oe w her auburn
locks over her slivuktr, • 111 tell them you are coining.' lily old
friend met us tat lair fAor t be instantly recognised me, with a
warmth of feeling for which he bad always been distinguished. I
had seen his ilevoied wile when she was in the
.pride of youth ; and
now that site was the neither of a Ono family, and that years had
been freely added ti her life, I thought that she appealed av beau-
tiful as ever. I had known your uncle when at college, and nato.
rally pictured to myself the friend in advanced years ; but I was
disappoisitel 11e appeared happy, more happy, as far es the con-
stancy of Ins wile, anal the love and proiniNe tat his children, could
make hint 1 brif 111(11: MIS Is chastelord tielanrlsely im Ids air that
told me he sail Marc with him same deep nusesalara .1 CC that maid
rut be Wiled out—
• (Inc fatal remembrance—one sorrow that throws

• Its bleak shade alike o'er our joy; and our woes.'
Wit took an early and frugal supper, and shortly afterwards
Marianna and her daughters withdrew for the Main, leaving my
trivial!, his son, and myself to converse till we were tired. The
feeling which I have alluded to was visible in all the actions of your
unek ; and the devotion of his family seemed silently to re .roach
him for the errors of his youth. was particularly moved by his
conduct. when I saw the man whose valour was worthy of that
Republic which he had done so much to establish, bonie down in
his declining years by the consciousness of an early crinte. Iktore
they kit the room, ins daughters came round his chair, and em-
braced I • mint affectionately. • (loud 'might, my I= papa,'
they both exclaimed, as their arms were toNetner twined round his
neck. Ile lusecil diem, and a tear of gratitude rolled down his
check as he koked upon his wile, and said, • You arc like your
mother, my sweet girls.' The second sou, a boy, about fourteen,
then took hi. father by the hand, and before he wi...ted him good
utglit, lookA at me, and earnestly said. • let tiw English gentle-
Man hunt with us to-morrow, papa.' lii, tether promised that it
should be so, and the boy went away delighted.

• When iv; were left done, your.uncle-went over did history of
same poriion of his life, awl dwelt, with the deepest feelings, on
the °Quire which had tiro en hint (tutu his native country. ' Eng-
land,' he observed, • is my hinne—it was the of my fathers__
and though, in this line acrd free Itipublic, every blessiog seems to
surround Me, my heart is English still. Here I stn removed from
my friends: there was my mother, who died unconscious of the
stain that hail so deeply sullied my r'iaramer. I had hoped to have
closed her eyes is pate ; but instead of doing so, the mystery tit
my tate hastened her mid, and ha last words were, • My son Ito..
bert!"these words reproach me yet ; and the lore of that dear
being who makes this home a home of happiness, though it pours
peace into toy wounded heart, still it silently reminds me of that
crime, which made me a wanderer and an exile ; and throws a
tinge of melancholy over my character. Yet, my friend, do nut
think that I run unhappy ; of I weep, it is from a sense of grati-
tude fur the blessings that surround my table. Hut I sin monied
with an ulleuce, sod feel it here. I pray Clod to preserrs sty clod_