The Sun.
London, England, 1863-05-21 00:00:00

a friend to protect or a " charac to recommend
her, the unhappy girl endeavours to earn her bread
in vain. She stands—as so many, young and inno-
cent as she, have stood—alone, on the slippery bor-
ders of destruction. Not a hand outstretched to
"save." "Lost" for time and for eternity, as far
as the cold world cares—" lost," for any help from
human charity, from man or woman either—only
preserved from sinking, only endued with courage to
endure, for the sake of that little, frail, fragile
existence, cradled within her arms--the cause at
once of her hope and of her despair. The following
passage is full of painful truth—" Thou shalt not
bear false witness against thy
neighbour"—hoW
many of us are without sin in this respect P
Not that the world in general had any particular spite
to the Brookes, but that it is the universal practice of that
corporate body " Society" to strain at a gnat when good is
recorded, and swallow a camel when there is any evil gossip
afloat. People run each other down as though they could
make pedestals of their neighbours' characters, and stand
upon them. No inquiry is made into facts, no allowance
for circumstances. In this world accusation is condemna-
tion. Nothing is so fallible as human judgment, but no-
thing is so pitiless. It is the one black spot in our hearts
(the devil's share in us), that the general impulse is to be-
lieve the worst, Mercy and peace are kissing each other in
some more heavenly habitation, certainly not here, Here,
the mass are for ever learning from their dark mister' how
to tarnish, and where to sting; and truly he has reason to
be proud of his scholars, even among nominally religious
and self righteous folk. There is nobody so abased the. he
is not tall enough to look down on others—doing unto his
neighbour what he would particularly reaeut his neighbour
doing unto him; and scorning his fellow-Christian "with
all his heart and with all his mind, with all his soul and
with all his strength."
Yet we know who is the master and teacher of scorn—
Scorn is of Devils I Meek compassion lies
In Angel words, mad beams from Angel eyes.
And angels have been God's messengers from all time.
They are not His messengers who go to church (strict
Sabbatarians I) and patter out loud litanies to the "Author
of Peace and Lover of Concord" to "deliver them from pride,
vain glory, and hypocrisy—from envy, hatred, and malice,
and all uncharitableness—to comfort and help the weak-
hearted, and to raise up them that fall"—and who then re-
turn home to sit in judgment on their neighbours. Yearn-
ing for power to punish other men's sons ; slan-
dering and sneering at other men's daughters ; and fiercely
condemning the Beatrices whose true history is to them a
sealed book.
Who art thou that judgest another? To his own
master he standeth or falletb.
But Beatrice is " saved." The title of the book
proclaims this fact, and we are betraying no secret
in recording it. We are not content, however, with
the manner of her "saving." We are disap-
pointed with the conclusion of the story both
as a work of nature and as a work of art.
It is not true to nature surely that s.
heart so passionate and so tender, having loved
once so intensely and so truthfully, should, under
any combination of circumstances, love again! The
only palliation for the faults of Beatrice is the over-
mastering power of one great affection. To admit
the possibility of a second passion is to remove all
excuse for the imprudence of the first. As a work
of art, to "point the moral" of the world's harsh
judgment, the story should rather have had a tra-
gical or at least a melancholy conclusion. We are
rejoiced, however, that Beatrice is saved, only we
would rather she had never met with Ludovic
Sforza! We leave her happy in her Italian Pa-
l'ozza, and the third volume concludes with the vale-
dictory prayer of the grateful Parkes. We have
passing glimpse at the
ontohterroocmharfaocrtemrso,re haantdyn a
yet
they are worthy, many
of them, of an attentive scrutiny. First in order of
precedence, by every right and every reason, must
come " the Marchioness"—in her own opinion, and
in that of all who approached her, about the very
greatest lady in the land. " Her sisters called her
the Marchioness, as the servants did. Her husband
called her the Marchioness. It seemed as if there
was no other marchioness in the world." Very
humorous is the portraiture as it appears through-
out the story, for the Marchioness plays a promi-
nent part in this history, as she does in the
world at large. As a foil to her resplen-
dent ladyship is little Parkes, the humble
companion—Parkes, whose ancles are swe:led with
hours of standing holding pins during the toilet of
the grand lady. " I never ask her to do anything
menial," says the Marchioness; "I did not engage
her to do anything menial. I don't call pincushions
menial !" In the hour of her bitter distress poor
Beatrice finds Parkes a true friend. Next in order
to the Marchioness of Updown comes her sister, the
Lady Eudocia—the model of a match-making
mamma, blest with no son, but with five golden-
haired daughters, whom she calls her five Disap-
pointments! Lady Eudocia exercises a very bane-
ful influence on the fortunes of Beatrice; but more

fatal is the influence of Lady Nesdale, or Milly, as

she is generally termed. Milly Nesdale is the bonne
amie of Montagu Treherne, and the heart's devotion
of poor Beatrice is far outweighed by her false
rival's glittering and meretricious charms. There

is something singularly repulsive about the portrait
of Milly Needsle ; and her aunt, Mrs. Myra Grey,

is even more revolting, and assuredly, for the credit

of human nature, let us hope, more untruthful.
Mrs. Myra Grey, on a slight provocation,
_ .

administers poison as if it were water!

The chance entrance of her child, and his mother's
horror as he is about to drink the deadly beverage,
is another instance of Mrs. Norton's dramatic skill,

but the age of the child ie surely an anachronism,

Mrs. Myra Grey having been an adept in the art of
poisoning when in India, before the birth of Maurice

Llewellyn, the man she was now seeking to destroy.
Sir Bertie Llewellyn, the father of Maurice, and his
wife, Lady Diana (another sister of the Marchioness)
better known as " Dumpty," are both most love-
able characters. The old Earl of Caerlaverock and
his sponse the Princess Gouglokeff, with her tur-
quoises and her broken English, are a very different
p sir. Even the minor characters reveal the artist's
master hand—witness that little glimpse of the
servant's hall on Helen's wedding day, when the old

nurse exclaims—" T'ant a coronet as'll keep off the
headache, nor a star won't keep your heart from

acheing neither"—to which the butler indignantly

rt joins that " at least them as has a coronet—if so

be things don't go smooth, have got something
to fall book upon," which was unanimously held to
be a much sounder opinion than nurse's ! We must
perforce conclude our notice of these very delightful
volumes. The pleasant style and the tender senti...
meats will linger as an agreeable memory, in spite
of the sad story which they narrate.

presents%
Independentya:ntdhaa especial
ctiha le
Court .Tournas
THE DRAWING Roon.—Tbe Court Journal
complete resume of
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W. Thomas, 26, Brydges-street: Covent-garden, and all
newsagengoodts,
EATIIER AND TEE CROPS.--The rain has
at last, and it m be truly said, in its own
.
w e
a last
n x i
eat yy
Come
weekhad been felt at the long and
took pen in hand on this
protracted absence of rain
of the A pring. April hadsobee usual during the early part
and May had set IA
apparently steadily in the like on dry,
course, and
vigorous,and althougdh the crops
were generally booking well
raising, it was fully obvious that each day o droughtenbegpan
ro-
tbo tell its tale. As a rule, the wheats bore it well, bat eats
arley, beans, peas, and pastures, all exhibited symptom&
proving that injury must surely ensue unless a change W'Aill quickly felt. It must, therefore, have been with a Peel-
ing of absolute relief that our agriculturists viewer.i the
heavy showers of the 11th bast , supplemented by the fur-
ther rain which fell two days subsequently. With the
downfall of rain there happily also came a rise in the tem-
perature, and both combined have already done a vast deal
in improving the appearance of the crops ant imparting a
great stimulus to vegetation generally. No details are neces-
sary; every square foot of cultivated soil throughout the
country furnishes an index to the progress and improvement
that have taken place. Apparently we ars now getting the
showers considered to be more properly belonging to the month
of April; and the warmth of a May sun and a May tem•
perature being superadded, it is not easy to estimate the
enormous advantage to crops of every kind and descriptivm.
The accounts from the hop gardens are encouraging, This
crop, however, is so precarious that little real reliance can
be placed on any estimates made at so early a r i d
~er o
i 3 f the
year; at the same time it is satisfactory t
plant is in most cases healthy and •
past season has been taken aclyp -vigorous, and that the
culture.—Sussex 41dvor ttprr ..stage of to attend to careful