The Sun.
London, England, 1852-04-16 00:00:00

-4n-iVgrt NV:M
DR.
A A-111 GRAB AIE-I.O7IIOSSGRAY. By the
-Author of " illerklandr6.c. 3 Tols, Colburn.
The nunteroussidaureli atm, anthems, who have
lingered in the plpoaut:Sf.,;ottish home of Mrs. Mar-
garet 11taitland,,or_ watched the -development of the
deeper histori_of the
_joys and sorrows of Merkland,
and thrilled witttirter,-;.st,andadnakration of heroic
lives of Caleb l'idd and his daughter, will hail the
appearance of thesevoluines with-pleasure and expec-
tation: - They will not be disappointed. Lis an un-
common work, not only in the'stibthied power of the
style, in the eloquence of the 4igresip,n§,_in the. inte-
rest of the narrative, or in the delineation of character,
but in the lessons it teacheS, and the- truths the more
ferciblitold,because they areunostentatiouslyadvanced,
less us the advice of the isiptior than The words spoken
by the characters theniaeies. Tne first volume con-
tains the memoirs op '4,.-datn Graeme, hcving

been forsaken by his plighted brklc-,,, and deeply
wronged by his cousin and only. relative, retires to
pass his lire in solitude and seclusion; resolving never
to see the
,children of those:who had so injured biro,
though the injurers themselVes had passed away. But
.his resolution changes; he receives a letter from her
whom he, had almOst,'W:orhipped, written when on
her deathbed, committing her only child, an orphan,
to his charge. He accepts: the trust, and
the- quiet, gentle Lilias Maxwell beeonies the
companion and ward Af,:the old man, rvvlao had de-
termined never to see her. ;His feelings also undergo
a change with respect to the son of his cousin, who is
the last-Of the race, and who, being a very different
charack to his fatheri sugfceecis iu eff‹ctually remov-
ing Adam Grearae's,prejudice respecting him. The
gentle Lilias, however, is not the chief attraction.
The eager, variable,:aud; energetic Helen Buchanan
is the -.heroine -who :most excitesiour sympathy.
Slighted- by the society Fendie,' as being only a_
poor: schoolmistress,. toiling in poverty and anxiety,
and the only suppOrt of her mother, sensitive and
proud, feeling joy and.sorrow keenly, she has yet
another and heavier trial; Mr. Oiwald, the banker of

.he town, bad once been the partner of her father, and
on account of some unhappy dispute-they had parted
in anger. Mr. Buchanan, a weak---minded, delicate
man, totally different from his daughter, died, and
the self-willed and unkirgiving banker refused to
allow Helen Buelianan to becoMe the bride of Wil-
liam Oswald. The, e4n_ traat is striking between the
pale and' quiet Lilias—calm evenin - her sorrow, for
she is not without trials—and the: earnest, excitable
Helen," whose' -varyingr moods and. changing temper
render her so susceptible of pleasure and pain. But she
is strong-minded and independent notwithstanding,
andber spiritlrises tonieet t he-diffioulties which surround
her, while Lilies droops and yields. The other cha-
racters are also well drawn each . complete in itself.
.
The gentle LairdOQVlOtisgray, whO gives his name to
the work, the honest light-.hearted Halbert Graeme,
the resolute banker, and his active sensible daughter
Hope, who schemes and plans most ingeniously, and
who finally meets the -success she 'deserves, and the
grave, earnest William,: are all striking in their indi-
viduality. Nor must we forget those in humbler
life—the stern old fisherniati, who thought'his vow of
unforgiveness for the faults, of 'hia son held him to its
fultiimenti or Isabel Broln, the old housekeeper,
who still believed ber.tnistress, young, and when she
returned, after the absence Of many years, refused to
credit that the grey-haired lady could be her " Miss
Lucy." The earlier part of -the • work:, the history
of Mossgray himself, is full of eloquent writing and
description. The follnwing is an extract
yes,- it is in youth, :pi::2perly so called, that the true
age of poetry is. The priesthood of nature, the mood
that can hold communion with her in-- every place and
time—these come only w hen the, boy's material age is
past, and the childish dreams ciants, back, mightier now
and clearer, to clothe with their rare grace the expanding
growing soil, Is it well that this rarliatice should ny and
by, fide into the light of common day? Let us be
content, the old man is of kin to:the youth; perchance
if the harsher meridian time did not intervene, it would
scarcely be so. But now the:vision splendid travels with
hirheverywhere. There
.is a glory about the, hills and
in the sky—there is:rottsie;-all the more clear that it is
ioartioutste, in every;-run-tang strearn7—there is, highest of
'n wonderful light and truth, and love, and nobleness,
over all human things—motives,
grand sod sublime,
labour generous and great; worthy of the marvellous
position held by this mortal race. The whole universe
vibrates to his ear with heroic marches andnoble chimes
and music, to which his soul thrills and his step keeps
time. True, indeed, there are falsehood- and selfishness
and change here, er, whence those tales and sorrow, and
this general indignaionahat swells within him against
the wrong that is to be conquered? but these are not
near him. In his own especial atmosphere there is per-
feet truth, open at all points to the-eye of day. His
ideal covers and veil:avail Ineanirliults--in the objects of
hiS chivalrous affection; and he:pities men who are
smarting Under neglect, 6r- incousistenay and worldliness
of friends, tis those pi!-y whoieel their 'own blessedness
made all the greater by the contrast." •-•
The little band asChi:A-fellows who form the heroes
of the memeirs are sadly diatieraed and parted. But
Mos9gray remains the same, and when his youth and
its trials have passed away we find him still watching
his own -dearly--loved stream, the same generous,
poetical nature, and the same kind and gentle heart.
The subjoined is from the parting scene of William
and Helen, when the former is going to Edinburgh :
" I grant you that,' said 'William, 'but suppose,
Helen, a man should distrust his own powers, and think
it most expedient to keep himself apart from all strug-
gles—to withdraw far away from the evils he has not
strength to contend with—whit then?' -
" 'Then he does no 0•8161 his end,'- -said the rapid,
eager voice—' which is not to flee from natural tempta-
tions and difficulties, but bravely to resist and do battle
with the same. I know one feels ones heart sink often.
It may not be so with you who are strong; but I feel
that -to cease such work and warfare as one is called to
do, does bring a perilous sinking of the heart. It is not
well—surely it is not well to withdraw from the evils
. which are in us and about us; we are bound to do battle
with them, William—not to stand on our defence alone,
but to carry the war into the camp- of- the enemies. I
think sometimes that the state of war must be the only
good state for those who have sin.,nataral to them as
we have;; and that if these words' resist -and struggle
were,: withdrawn from our language we should, be no
longer human; for when we lot our: arms fall, our hearts
fall, and weariness comes upon us, ,and distrust and
gloom;' and out of the living, moving world we come
into the narrow chamber of ourselves—and the sun sets
upon us, William.'
" The sun had set in the 'changeful -face upon • which
William iaswald looked, and for the moment its waning
colour • and. downcast eyes proclaimed the unmistakable
sinking of the heart. She did not perceive the look that
dwelt upon her, nor its language—language 'uncon-
sciously
.powerful—‘ and this, Heleu,_ is your philoso-
phy.' The words fell dreamily upon her-ears, echoing
through a , lung silence. The philosophy was not hers
alone. • Kindred thoughts had risen-in the young minds,
as they grew together Had the early flush of maturity,
and now she sent him forth a knight:"

OLD ENGLISH CO UiviT-PROVERB

(From Eliza:fjook's journal.)
61d proverbs are tatf;e_otieentriated esaence of popular
wisdotb. They have
,j)een 'struck out by. theoretic know-
ledge, and confirmed ht practical -experience. The
people who lived long ago in times when printed books
did not:exist, embodied their views of lift-in -proverbs,
which were banded down from father to son, through
many generations. They !live among us still. To thin
ray proverbs copiaitute the literatiirie of, the unlearned.
And even the most learned of taiTh May often gather
wisdom', from these old saws of our forefathers. Row -
much practical knowledge, for inattinceji to be found in
the Preverbs of Solomon ;=,-75vhs4 clear insight into life!
what Olden maxims for the up-bringing of youth! what
noble thoughts for self-culture and home happiness!";"
-George Dawson' in: his clever. -lecture on Popular
Proverbs, has said of them, that, they are usually the
, witty utterances, by wise melt, .of the wisdom of 'the
inany. They became current benause thiy ably, briefly,
quaintly, or energetically expressed what men had long
_thought. The best of theta are shorta.and they are short
'because they felt themselves to ba true,—because many
of them are, as Emerson has pointed out, utterances of
those under!) ing laws of lite around which, as around a
magnetic pule, our actions group-themselves. They
are the'great spiritual utterances of mankind, and may
be regarded as a kind of gauge to the` thinker, to show
how far spiritualism has beewsticcessfui in getting into
life. They are the antiwar of the streets, to the pulpit.
.They have become a current method of teaching great
truths. ; Thus Feanklini• $a his Poor Richard, drew
forth a: whole budget-of _them; in enforcing the duty of
provideneta.' -Tay .yiereall, ready-made to his hand.
You 'fled. the best OrProleibi common to nearly all
countries' Proierbi'have--their equivalents- in all lan-
guages.. The English,, Scotch, Dutch;- Germans,' and
Spanish, are espectally,rinh in .proierba; and,- at some
future OpportiMity,' we may Haw from their ample bud-
gets. At present our, task ie_ .9f a humbler kind;
namely, to draw fOrth a few_ of` the old"county proverbs
and current sayings of England; 'which are, in many re-
spects, curiously illostratire --of the old life, habits, and
customs of the country. We may mention that we take
them from a book 'about:oo hundred-years" old,'entitled
hAnglerun,l Speculum, or, the Worthies of England in
land toahis 44y. ,• - - .
irch
and.
Stale'
The' proverbs, or sayings; there-
fore,_ which we areabout.to_cite, were in use centuries
Z;Vo-landnuart of them are current In the several noun-
The, a
was once lay.pvlltrd)' th ellioghemshire "Bread and" Beef, the one
' °.-otherlut a still . •
cslves,.., ~ -,Aft.,;,-!, is peaverinal. So are "Essex
Weobly ae (EC' milii,'!.: anti 'lJeanititer bread and
`-`Bean-belly Leicestershire"
the beans rattle in his Veri-ple collar, and you shall hear
Leicestershire roams and may be, so still; "Shake a
-C1 oilneheater-" use.
red herring), " Nortotk Y,' "Yarmouth capon" (or
..aili
vlt? those who multiply
(cheese and cakes), and .! aToing.,,, 'tool,by veal"
What is necessary in their
and a gallon of water" (appriFert,h_am g nine grits
eaeiraflevueorpuir,abaseneesdf {
)8
still
that -
--current -
The pro-
show that the .operatives of
by sprats,
manufacturing place, were much more poorly o'ff than
a
dwy
iehs.,-cabi ra'i arl
s'::)1:'
they are now., '
tlie
..A• Jack of Dover" wasphrase applied to focd
that had been cooked Wirer' and over again, and also to
: repetitions of useless phraseology i 'n speech,
El
" e that
1 would eat a buttered fagot, let bun go to Northampton"
—that town t'bin g (.miafel-"thi)laclveat of rail•vay,) the
, Idnareitao.aa:ia ,Engiara'; foTILIOi, - 'lle "1116 V°Wrk being
far fromtheisea;*'?ystera past hate grown stale before