The Sun.
London, England, 1863-02-03 00:00:00

outlines, and most natural in its plot. Doubtless
hundreds have been similarly situated, and the same
sad tale of suffering has been again and again
enacted in the dark annals of the world. It is the
touching manner in which these sorrows are de-
scribed that gives a pathos and an interest to this
narrative. It is the forcible manner in which
selfishness is exposed that imparts the excitement
to its course, and keeps up the attention till its close.
Gifford Mohun was a man of a very common stamp.
His name is legion. They rarely do any very kind
action, and they never perform any sacrifice of self,
but they keep up a decent appearance, conform to
the laws of a society never requiring great exertion
on the part of its wealthy members, hence they live
and die respected, if nothing extraordinary is re-
quired of them. But let any of those mental trials
or moral shocks occur to them which try the inner-
most heart and prove the boldest spirit, and they do
not come out unscathed from the fiery ordeal. They
are not found not wanting when weighed in the
balance which tests the sterling from superficial,
and only allows real metal to stand, not counter-
feit presentments. Jane Grand is a charming cha-
racter, not from outward attractions or superior gifts
in a mental capacity, but from her gentleness,
her truthfulness, and her decision. She did not
fathom facts or question motives ; she only acted
up to her own convictions of right and wrong, and,
if all took her standard, how different would be the
course of events and the destinies of mortals. This
simple country girl might have taught the proudest
and grandest. It is a pretty picture that meets our
eye at the outset, when she was " in the pride and
fulness of her youth, a soft-faced girl of twenty,
standing beneath the shade of broad-leaved forest
trees, and with the gloss of a June sunset lighting
up her lips and eyes and hair with radiant gold."
This is pleasing, some may exclaim, but of
such are heroines ! lied Jane been happy in her
choice, had she married Gifford without any shadow
of evil overcasting her, she might have passed her
life in a hum drum sort of manner, but, as it was,
she was elevated, sanctified, and purified. The
trial that proved her showed her to possess qualities
whose existence robbed disappointment of its
sting, and took from sorrow its victory. She saw
and recognised that there were other things than
happiness for the traveller through this world's
wilderness. Having learned this lesson, she was
a gainer and not a loser, and when succeeding
years and subsequent events taught their crowning
mercy in showing Gifford in his true colours, and
she put the false idol of her youth from the shrine
he had so long and so unworthily held, she was not
to be pitied but envied, inasmuch as she had recti-
fied an error and retrieved a false srep. Had she
married G fford, either she would have recognised
his weakness and want of principle as years turned
the youth into a man, or else she would have gra-
dually sunk down unto his level. For this world
she could hardly have had a more uncomfortable
and undesirable lot than to find it impossible to re-
spect her husband, and for a better state of being she
could hardly have been more unfitted than by mix-
ing her pure faith and high sense of rectitude
with the material notions and selfish doctrines
of such a one as Mohun. For such an unat-
tractive and in some senses repulsive being as
Matty Fergusson was, there seemed re-
served a sort of special mission to perform in
the quiet village to which her ambitious views had
taken her. We cannot regret any amount of an-
noyance that Gifford was doomed to suffer in his
union with such a person as Matty, when we reflect
how he had introduced, by his cruel coldness and
hard selfishness, the blight that had destroyed
the flower, and the canker worm that had eaten
into the freshness of Jane Grand's youth. Her best
and brightest years were spent in mourning, and
if the result ended in blessing to her, it was but
fair that a curse should rest on him who had
marred the order of things as arranged by the
beneficent hand of Providence to give sunshine to
the spring of youth and gentle gales to fan the
path of those not yet strong enough to
bear the wintry blast of adversity. Mr.
Follett, the vicar, though not intended to be
otherwise than dull, prosaic, and solemn, really
seems quite an attractive character with his straight-
forward manner and his precious gilt of compre-
hension and ready tact. When nine out of ten would
have made the sufferer worse by his officious
meddling, he wisely ieft the afflicted one to her
God and herself. When at last she allowed him to
visit her, he never mentioned her trouble, but told
of his own agony far away in the days of his youth,
but too deeply impressed not to retain its memory
to the extremest verge of extended existence.
chis is the secret of strength to the weak,
the source of consolation to the a 3 icted, to let
them see that others are crushed as they have been
trampled upon, and yet by the mercy of Heaven
have seen something on this fair earth again to
engage their attention. Jane Grand listened to the
tale, and the recital was of service to her. It would
have been well for her had she then possessed suf-
ficient principle to recognise the unworthiness of
nor heart's idol, but that was not to be expect d
from one so young and so inexperienced ; perhaps
it was more in accordance with her gentle heart and
gracious spirit, that she should go on heaping up
treasures on the shrine of memory instead of weav-
ing garlands for the chaplet of hope. The past
threw a dark shadow on the present, which might
have been bright with the promise of the future,
Great blame is attached to the friends and ad-
visers of Jane Grand. They could not have done a
more cruel or mischievous thing had they meant to
be the destroyers of her peace. They furnish a
striking instance, and present an excellent warning
to well-meaning but weak persons, who are always
trying to put off the evil day, and circumvent or
substitute in some way rather than be downright
and straightforward. Concealment never yet did
any good, but in a thousand cases has created in-
numerable evils, and wrought direful calamities.
It is a sort of nightmare in the waking life of those
whom it concerns, and they come to their senses to
find that the real is worse than the imaginary
evil. So it was with our poor heroine, when she
sat in the lawyer's room at Russell-square. That
scene is admirably pourtrayed which tells of the
momentous interview between the young girl, just
fresh from the country, and her simple routine,
and the old man, versed in the shuffling of a crooked
career and steeled to the encounter of sorrow, shame,
and suffering es they met bira in the dark ways of
his profession. There is an impressive passage
which points out some of the opportunities that
men of Mr. Clitheroe's profession possess of ob-
seiving the great struggles of humanity in their
engagements, that involve some of the saddest
and hardest trials of mortals. " Talk of what
phsicians, of what clergymen see of humanity
in extrentis. Uhe physician sees us only when
bodily weakness has robbed mental suffering of the
pasaionate vitality of life, the parson, when we
have reached the senile days of repentance or de-
spair. The lawyer sees men and women in the
heat and burden of the fight, sees them in their
greatest strength, and greatest weakness, in their
intensest interest, in their utmost self-abnegation,
in paroxysms of basest fear, in moments of most
sublime and heroic moral courage. The healers of
soul and body often hear half truths, but to his
lawyer what man ever lied ? Mr. Clitheroe's halt
century of ordinary solicitor's work had brought
him face to face with as many difficult situations,
as many varied phases of deep passion as would sul-
fite to make any dramatist immortal, could he but
embody them in art." This work can be fairly re-
commended to the reader, in the full assurance ani
confident expectation that it will interest him from
its truthful pictures of humanity, its pathetic de-
scriptions of suffering, and its real and earnest views
of life and its highest interests, " A Point of
Honour" exposes some of the greatest errors into
which men fall wilfully, or accidentally ; and also
tells of the highest attributes that can adorn this

William and .Rachel Russell. A Tragedy. By
Andreas Munch. Translated from the Norwe-
gian by J. H. Burt. Trubner and Co.
Sir Aberdour ; or the Sceptic. By W. J. Purcell,
Esq., of the Inner Temple. Pickering.
Short Poems. By F. O. 'W ilson. Hurst and Blackett.
Parv'eia. A few little E.hymes. By Minitnus.
Trubner and Co.
There must be something very fascinating in the
art of writing verses, since so many attempt it to
whom the occupation is neither likely to bring
fame nor profit. It is to be conjectured that on the
principle of " virtue being its owu reward.," the
satisfaction of thinking oneself a poet is sufficient
repayment ; and, probably, in most cases an ad-
miring and non-captious public may surround the
writer and listen with awe-struck attention to
spasmodic tragedy, halting verse, and incompre-
hensible sonnet. If the publications before us
do not exactly come into this category, they
are certainly not far enough removed from it to
soar very much above mediocrity. The tragedy of
Lord and Lady Russell appears under the great
disadvantage of a translation, but it is not entirely
devoid of power, and we can readily fancy that in
its native form it might be a thrilling and effective
piece. The story turns upon the offence given by the
refusal of the pure and high-minded Lady Russell
to receive the worthless Duchess of Portsmouth
when she visited her house. This belongs to those
appendages to history known as " embroidered
facts," and it is not probable that with Lady Rus-
sell's fervent devotion to her lord, and calm sense,
she would so far have outstripped the borders of
prudence. The work is written with care, and rises
in power towards the close, indeed the last scenes in
the noble victim's prison are almost eloquent. The
translation has received the approbation of the poet,
so we must conclude that it is faithful to the text,
and it is interesting as introducing us to a part of
that Scandinavian literature whose strong sym-
pathies with our own are manifested by the subject
of this very play.
Of " Sir Aberdour, or the Sceptic," there
is not much to say, except that it is a very
poor imitation of Childe Harold, if, indeed
we may compare such an indifferent production
to one of the masterpieces of the English tongue.
The hero is a sceptic, who has forfeited the favour
of a fair maiden of high estate for that reason, and
consequently betakes himself to wander over the
continent and muse on the destinies of Italy,
with a result more gratifying to himself than to the
reader. We should decidedly advise the author to
abandon the profession of letters for the more lucra-
tive one which he claims on the title page, and
rest his hopes of distinction on briefs and pleaders,
rather than on such rhymes as " mamma" and
" saw," or such Aiexandrines as
"Ay tremble; the Calabrian fiends here may flock."
We have heard a r iyrning dictionary gravely re-
commended to an ambitious versifier by a well-
meaning but unpoetic friend, and really the advice
would not always be unprofitable. We leave Sir
Aberdour and his Dandreary transformation of " a"
into " aw" and we come in Mr. Wilson's " Short
Poems" to such exquisite melody of words as "Italy"
and " bitterly," and still more astonishing, " armies"
and " calm is." Truly double rhymes under such
circumstances are questionable advantages. We
begin to wish for the regulation NI hick proves so
great a fetter to French poets, by making the
rhyme to consist of the three last letters of the
words being the same. It is not often that either
writer we have mentioned offends in this way, but
once is once too often. We fear that for misdi-
rected ambition they are scmewhat on a par,
though Mr. Wilson's work, from being much less
pretentious, is much the more pleasing. There is
certainly neither original thought nor elevated ex-
pression, but many of the verses flow melodiously
enough. It is when he is simplest that the
writer is most successful, when he sings the
lament of the little orphan shepherd boy, or tells the
thoughts of the dying girl looking wistfully over
the meadows ; but when he aims at effect, and de-
scribing his lady-love toying with the waters, in-
forms us that—
"The old river shook with a terrible delight,"
we are less sensitive than the river, and decidedly
not impressed. The little volume" Parvula" comes
before the public with the disadvantage of an ab-
surdly affected title-page, which prejudices the
reader at the outset. It is manifestly the work of
a very young writer, and as such gives grounds for
hopes of future improvement. Notwithstanding
many defects, it has something of the freshness and
spirit of a genuine singer, but it is extremely un-
equal, and if ever the author hopes to do better
things, he must study carefully and prune his com-
positions with an unsparing hand. Diffuseness is
one of his great faults, but the equally common
error of extravagance is not met with. Indeed, he
is often too plain in his language, as when he
begins a poem—
"l walk'd too far the other day."
Studied simplicity may be very effective under the
pen of au experienced writer, but such lines as this
are not poetry. He is sometimes happy in his
images, and we will cite one as a favourable speci-
men. He is just fresh from a course of astronomi-
cal study, and goes out on a starry night co " con-
sider the heavens." He is surprised to find a
little peasant girl, apparently bent on the same
errand, and questions her.
"Those eyes assumed unwonted light,
I'm thinking, Sir,' said she,
If Heaven's wrong side be so bright
What must the right side be 1'
How vain is knowledge then, I thought,
E'en though to Heaven it reach,
If that which science never taught,
A little girl can teach I

And ye who live in peace and health,
Twin blessings from above,
And revel daily in the wealth
Of friendship and of love;
Oh, think when joys like these delight
Though this side Heaven are ye,
If Heaven's wrong side be so bright
What must the right side be 1"
If " Minimus " will be content to carry out his
objectionable title, and write only a " few" rhymes
for some time to come, he may, with care, produce
something better. Let him not aim at writing
much, but at writing a little well, and instead of
" Parvula," let him endeavour to describe his next
volume as " Multum in Parvo."

The Newspaper Press Directory and Advertiser's
Guide. By C. Mitchell and Co. With the

Newspaper Map of the United Kingdom.

There is little room for criticism with regard to
this old-established Directory, which bears the same
regard to the newspaper press of the United King-
dam as Kelly's monster volume does to the citizens
of the great metropolis. Opening with a summary
of the law of newspapers, which will be useful to
novices, we come, after the alphabetical index, to
the London papers, the provincial papers, the
Welsh, Scotch, and Irish papers, followed by a list
of the journals published in the British Isles, and a
catalogue of the ever-increasing company of maga-
zines, reviews, and periodicals. The journals num-
ber 1,206, the magazines and quarterlies 53'7, of
which no less than 217 are of a decidedly religious
character. The information giving respecting each
of these periodicals is very serviceable to adver-
tisers, and entitles the Directory to assume the ap-
pellation of " The Advertiser's Guide." We must
not omit to mention the newspaper map, showing
the newspaper representation of each county, and
coloured so as to distinguish the agricultural, min-
ing, and manufacturing districts. The map is
boldly drawn and effectively coloured, and, is
occon-
junction with the Directory, affords very clear
comprehensive information respecting
theFaorurth
Estate.