The Sun.
London, England, 1839-06-01 00:00:00

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

--
Mrs. Trollope's " Widow Married" is the great gem
of this number. The Burnaby comes out in fatuous
style in the chapters descriptive of her voyage home from
mouthof
uxoriousness.
Th am
We ( . S 100 evince
vin Australia, with her dashing, black-whiskered husband ;
and her lamentations for the loss of his splendid whis-
kers and mustachios, which he heartlessly shaves off
ucpeon a
most while
sailing
a delectable
pspiritthe
the plump Widow, with her great flashing dark eyes,
her well-oiled ringlets, black as the raven's wing, and
her incomparable assurance, which nothing earthly could
disturb, as one of the best and truest portraits to be
found in the whole range of modern fiction. In this
sort of character Mrs. Trollope is quite at home ; but
she fails in the sentimental, and when attempting to be
Pathetic, becomes maudlin by mistake. The two en-
gravings illustrative of her present chapters, hit off the
widow, her husband, and their promising daughter, to
the life. We quote Mrs. Barnaby's—alias O'Donog-
hough's—lament for the loss of her spouse's whiskers :
" Good Heaven 1 Major Allen," was her first involuntary
exclamation, " what on earth can have induced you to
make such a figure of yourself ?"
The gentleman suddenly ceased to smile as she spoke,
and answered in a low growling voice, which showed that
he bad not, like Samson, lost his spirit witn his hair,
" And what, madam, can make you call me by a name which
I have commanded you never to utter again ?"
Poor Mrs. O'Donagough was really frightened, and not-
withstanding the high spirit upon which she prided herself,
condescended to say, Oh, dear me 1 Mr. O'Donagough,
don't be angry 1 I will never say it again, upon my word
and honour. And nobody heard me, you know—that's a
comfort. But what did you cut off your beautiful whiskers
for ?"

" You are a fool, Mrs. Allen O'Donagough," was the
short reply ; and never again was the circumstance alluded
to between them. But it cannot be supposed that Mrs.
O'Donagough forgot it ; or that she could avoid feeling
rather uncomfortably anxious as to what motive could have
induced so very handsome a man to disfigure himself so
dreadfully.
" If it bad been only his mustaches," thought she, " I
should not have cared•• and indeed I know that it would
have perfectly necessary_how else could he possibly
pass himself off for the Reverend Mr. O'Donagough ? No
reverends ever do wear mustaches, that's quite true ; lout
those beautiful whiskers that gave him so completely the
air of a man of fashion 'there could have been no occasion
to shave them ! I know the irreaular clergy, like my last
poor O'Donagough, wear whisker's quite as often as not—
not little shabby whiskers either, such as a bishop might
wear, and no harm done—but just; such full noble-looking
whiskers as the Ma—as this foolish mans wore—however,
it's no good to fret. If any thin. was to happen to him,
and I vas to marry again, I'd take good care to know, if
'twas in the old world'or the new, whether there was any
likelihood of the man's wanting to, scrape his skin, for all
the world like a pig prepared for roasting. This one only
wants singeing a little, to make him perfect."
" A Stir in the Household" is a smart domestic
sketch—or rather a series of sketches—illustrative of
the injurious effects of selfishness in a husband and wife
who are at the head of a large establishment. The
author of this clever story is Mr. Theodore Hook, and
account of this p o p ulous city,
he has not often wielded his pen withpore effect.
4. Westminster of Old" is, as the title implies, an anti-
quarian as it existed some
centuries ago, when " Chariog" was a rural little village
about a mile from London, and the Strand abounded in
fruit and flower gardens sloping down to the Thames.
" Boar hunting" gives some spirited details respecting a
long day's chase amorr, the hills and forests of India.
The death of the wild boor is an impressive bit of de.
scription. " The Life and Times of Peter Priggins"
developes no ordinary powers of ready dialogue. " A
Domestic Scene" is a vamped-up anecdote of Nepoleon,
Maria Louisa, and the sculptor Canova. " The Carol

of Content" is gracefully versified by Sir Lumley
Skethiigton.

BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.

There are many graphic touches of descripiion in the
present chapters of Jack Sheppard, which show that
Mr. Ainsworth is an adept in the ad captandurn style.
His account of Jonathan Wild's museum of professional
curiosities, though perhaps verging on the extravagant,
is very effective ; and not less so, his sketch of the
great thief•taker, whom he somewhat quaintly calls
.• the Napoleon of knavery." Here is our author's
catalogue of the items in Jonathan's Museum :
Following his guide, Sir Rowland found himself in a large
and lofty apartment, the extent of which he could not entirely
discern until lights were set upon the table. He then looked
around him with some curiosity ; and, as the thief-taker was oc-
cupied in giving directions to his attendant in an undertone,
ample leisure was allowed him for investigation. At the first
glance he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of
rarities, there were So many glass cusses, so many open cabinets
ranged against the walls: but the next convinced him that if
Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary
channals. Trenchard was tempted to examine the contents of
some of these cases, but a closer inspection made him re-
coil from them in disgust. in the one he approached
was gathered together a vast assortment of weapons, each
of which, as appeared from the ticket attached to it,
had been used as an instrument of destruction. On
this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his
father ; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood . on that
a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband
had beaten out his wife's brains. As it is not, however, our
intention to furnish a complete catalogue of these curiosities,
we shall merely mention that in front of them lay a large and
sharp knife, once the property of the public executioner, and
used by him to dissever the limbs of those condemned to
death for high,-treason ; together with an immense two-pronged
flesh-fork, likewise employed by the same terrible functionary to
plunge the quarters of his victims in the cauldrons of boiling
tar and oil. Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared
to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoin-
ing cabin, so well was it stored with skulls and bones, all pur-
porting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their day.
Halters, each of which had fulfilled its destiny, formed the
attraction of the next compartment; while a fourth was occu-
pied by an array of implements of housebreaking almost innu-
merable, and utterly indescribable. All these interesting
objects were carefully arranged, classed, and, as we said, labeled
by the thief-taker.

Mr. Ainsworth's character of Jonathan is quite as
vigorously and consistently maintained as Fielding's, but
it wants those sparkling and lively touches with which
the latter has relieved his portrait. It is too stern and
sullen—in short, all shadow, without a single sun-burst.
The interview that takes place between Jack Sheppard
and his mother, after the young thief has made his
escape from Willesden cage, appeals to some of the best
and tenderest feelings of our nature ; but its effect is
somewhat marred by the sudden melodramatic appear-
ance of Jonathan Wild, whose " satanic countenance"
peeps out from the " back of the bed," too much after.
the 0. Smith fashion. " Vincent Eden" improves greatly.
If we mistake not, this tale will become popular, for it
is a lively, unexaggerated picture of Oxford life. The
incident of the grave proctor, Doctor Burnaby Birch,
and the basket in which was a fine baby sent him by
way of present, is a rich bit of drollery. " Rambles
among the Rivers," is a string of very pleasant, gos-
sipping anecdotes, gleaned with praiseworthy diligence
from local guide-books, and divers other sources. The
" Night-Watch" is an affecting tale from the pen of
poor Haynes Bayley, who paid the penalty of genius
the other day, by dying, as we have heard, in a state
of utter destitution. It suggests a train of very pain-
ful ideas, to think that while he was lying helpless and
hopeless on that bed from which he was never more to
rise, thousands of the young, the hippy, and the
affluent were, at that very time, seated in the most
picturesque of attitudes, and with the most sentimental
of faces, at the harp or the piano, singing his plaintive
ballads ! The " Veterans of Chelsea Hospital" is a
clever idea, cleverly worked out by Mr. Gleig.
Sonic Passages in the Life of Olinthus Jenkinson" is
just a passable narrative, and no more. " Legacies of
Intellect" is a neatly told anecdote, and points a useful
moral. We should be glad to see more of these sort of
tales, for the " Miscellany" is too much taken up with
minute, piquant, and scientific records of the exploits of
thieves, fences, burglars, and highwaymen. Indeed,
after perusing Oliver Twist and Jack Sheppard, with
the attention due to the shrewd ability they display, it
must be the reader's own fault if he have not acquired
all the knowledge necessary to make him an accom-
plished cracksman. " Colin Clink" is excellent. We
like the healthy, manly spirit that pervades this story,
which is a picture of genuine English country life,
painted with the combined truth and energy of a Mor-
land and a Gainsborough.