The Sun.
London, England, 1865-06-09 00:00:00

LITERATURE

Alec Forbs, of Howglen. By George Mac Donald,
M.A. Author of " David Elginbrod." 3 Vols.

Hurst and Blackett.

A pleasant story-teller is George Mac Donald,
and we close the last volume of his book with regret.
We are loth to part with the group of very various
but very original characters to which it has intro-
duced us; we miss the earnest tones of the narrator's
homely voice, but many a happy recollection lingers
pleasantly in the memory. As a story " Alec
Forbes" is a great improvement upon " Adela
Cathcart. The interest is more concentrated,
and the characters are very forcibly and naturally
developed. The first volume is principally devoted
to the childhood of the hero and heroine, of Alec
Forbes and gentle Annie Anderson. Alec Forbes,
although holding thathonourable position is, iu fact,
anything but a hero. He is, when we first know
him, a gay, careless, high-spirited, generous-hearted
Scottish laddie, not gifted with any great intellec-
tual powers, and at the close of his recorded history
he is still much the same, but Annie—how shall we
describe her, the simple loving child, with earnest
anxious heart, and restless inquiring brain. Very
few such heroines as Annie Anderson are to be met
with in the pages of romance. In her isolation and
her unworldliness she is like some tenant of a
better world,- who is only here as a stranger seeking
for her home—a description which should per-
haps apply to all the inhabitants of earth.
In the opening chapter we find Annie, a
lonely child of nine, on the day of her father's
funeral, seeking for comfort and companionship
with the dumb inmates of the farm-yard—" Nae-
body mindit me, an' sae I came to you, Broonie,"
and she laid her cheek-white, smooth, and thin—
against the broad, flat, hairy forehead of the friendly.
cow." These innocent consolations are speedily in-
terrupted, the little country lassie, the playmate of
the farm-yard, is sent to live in the town in most
ungenial companionship. Here she attends the day
school ; and here, among the scholars, she becomes
acquainted with Alec Forbes, the only son of the
widowed Mrs. Forbes of Howglen. The character
of the schoolmaster, his severe discipline, and his
cruel brutality, is perhaps natural and typical of a
class now, let us hope, extinct, but the description of
his doings is singularlyrevolting. Alec, the favourite
of the schoolboys, by whom he is styled " General,"
constitutes himself the champion of little timorous
Annie, and the grateful devotion of her tender
heart repays his services with interest. Alec goes
after a while to a distant college, and becomes sepe-
rated from the companions of his boyhood; even his
dearest friend " Curly"—a capital specimen of
honest, faithful friendliness and fealty—recognises a
difference in their relationship. We must not fol-
low the history step by step. It is in the inner
rather than in the outer world, however, that the
chief trials and difficulties of both hero and heroine
take place. As the Scottish dialect plentifully per-
vades the pages of Alec Forbes, so also does the
strong religious feeling of the North hold a
prominent place in the history. One Sunday
evening the little earnest-hearted maiden goes to
the missionary church so heartily commended by
honest Thomas Crann, the stonemason, himself one
of the most religious but intolerant of mortals.
Here poor Annie is overwhelmed by the awful de-
nunciations to which she listens. Once before,
when in want of a book, she had fearlessly called,
though then unknown to him, on the clergyman of
the parish—to him she goes in her new perplexity.

When Annie descended from her hateful eminence, just
before her final prayer, it was with a deeper sense of de-
gradation than any violence of the ta wse on her poor little
hands could have produced. Nor could the attentions of
Alec, anxiously offered as soon as they were out of school,
reach half so far to console her as they might once have
reached; for such was her sense of condemnation that she
dared not take pleasure in anything. Nothing else was
worth minding till something was done about that. The
thought of having God against her took the heart out of
everything. As soon as Alec left her, she walked with
hanging head, pale face, and mournful eyes, straight to
Mr. Cowie's door.

She was admitted at once, and shown into the library
where the clergyman sat in the red dusky glow of the
firelight, sipping a glass of wine, and looking very much
like an ox-animal chewing the cud; for the meditation in
which the good man indulged over his wine was seldom
worthy of being characterised otherwise than as mental
rumination.

"Well, Annie, my dear, come away," said he, "I am glad
to see you. How does the boat get on ?"
Deeply touched by a kindness which fell like dew upon
the parching misery of the day, Annie burst into tears.
Mr. Cowie was greatly distressed. He drew her between
his knees, laid his cheek against hers, as was his way
with children, and said with soothing tenderness—
" Walawa! what's the matter with my dawtie ?"

After some vain attempts at speeeh, Annie succeeded in
giving the following account of the matter, much inter-
rupted with sobs and frefh outbursts of weeping.

"Ye see, sir, I gaed last nicht to the missionar kirk to
hear Mr. Broon. And he preached a gran' sermon, sir. But
I haena been able to bide mysol' sin' syne. For I doobt
I'am ane o' the wicked 'at God hates, and I'll never win'
to haven at a' for I canna help forgettin' whiles. An'
'the wicked 'll be turned into hell, and a' the nations
that forget God. That was his text, sir. And I canna
bide it."

In the bosom of the good man rose a gentle indignation
against the schismatics who had thus terrified and bewil-
dered that sacred being, a maid-child. But what could he
say. He thought for a moment, and betook himself, in his
perplexity, to his common sense.
" You haven't forgotten your father, have you, Annie?"
said he.

"I think aboot him maist ilka day," answered Annie.
"But there comes a day now and then when you don't
think much about him, does there not ?
"Yes, sir."
"Do you think he would be angry with his child
because she was so much taken up with her books or
her play—"
" I never play at onything, sir."
" Well—with learning songs to say to Alec Forbes and
Willie Macwha—do you think he would be angry that
you didn't think about him that day, especially when you
can't see him ?"

'Deed no, sir. He wadna be sae sair upo' me as

that."
" What would he say, do you think ?"
" Gin Mr. Bruce war to cast it up till me, he wad say,
' Lat alane the lassie. She 'll think about me the morn—
time eneuch."
" Well, don't you think your Father in heaven would
say the same ?"
" Maybe he micht, sir. But ye see my father was my
ain father, and would mak' the best o' me."
"And is not God kinder than your father ?"
" He canna weel be that, sir. And there's the Scrip-
ter !"
"But he sent his only Son to die for us."
" Ay—for the eleck, sir," returned the little theolo-
gian.
Now this was more than Mr. Cowie was well prepared
to meet, for certainly this terrible doctrine was perfectly
developed in the creed of the Scotch Church—the assembly
of divines having sat upon the Scripture egg till they had
hatched it in their own likeness. Poor Mr. Cowie ! There
were the girl-eyes, blue, and hazy with tearful question,
looking up at him hungrily. 0 starving little brothers
and sisters ! God does love you, and all shall be, and
therefore is, well. But the minister could not say this,
gladly as he would have said it if he could ; and the
only result of his efforts to find a suitable reply was that
he lost his temper—not with Annie, but with the doctrine
of election.
"Gang ye hams, Annie, my bairn," said he, talking
Scotch now, "and dinna trouble yer heid aboot election,
and a' that. It's no' a canny doctrine. No mortal man
could ever win at the boddon o' I'm thinkin' we haena
muckle to do wi"t. Gang hame, dawtie. and say yer
prayers to be preserved frae the wiles o' Sawtan. There's
a sixpence to ye."
His kind heart was sorely grieved that all it could give
was money. She had asked for bread, and he had but a
stone, as he thought, to give her. So he gave her it with
shame. Ho might, however, have reversed the words of
St. Peter, saying, "Spiritual aid I have none, but such as
I have give I thee ;" and so offered her the sixpence. But,
for my part, I think the sixpence had more of bread in it
than any theology he might have been expected to have at
hand ; for, so given, it was the symbol and the sign of love,
which is the heart of the Divine theology.
Annie, however, had a certain Scotchness in her which
made her draw back from the offer.
"Na, thank ye, sir," she said, "I dinna want it."
" Will ye no tak' it to please an auld man, bairn ?"
"Deed will I, sir. I wad do a hantle mair nor that to
please you."
And again the tears filled her blue eyes as she held out
her hand—receiving in it a shilling which Mr. Cowie, for
more relief to his own burdened heart, had substituted for
the sixpence.
" It's a shillin,' sir !" she said, looking up at him with
the coin lying on her open palm.
"Wee], what for no ? Is a shillin' no a saxpence ?"
" An sir. It's twa."
" Weel, Annie," said the old man, suddenly elevated
into prophecy for the child's need—for he had preme-
ditated nothing of the sort'.-." maybe when God offers

us a saxpenee, it may turn oot to be twa. Good nicht, my
bairn."

But Mr. Cowie was sorely dissatisfied with himself. For
not only did he perceive that the heart of the child could
not thus be satisfied, but he began to feel something new
stirring in his own bosom. The fact was that Annie was
further on than Mr. Cowie. She was a child looking
about to find the face of her Father in heaven ; he was but
one of God's babies, who had been lying on his knees, re-
ceiving contentedly and happily the good things he gave
him, but never looking up to find the eyes of him from
whom the good gifts came. And now the heart of the old
man, touched by the motion of the child's heart—yearning
after her Father in heaven, and yet scarcely believing that
he could be so good as her father on earth—began to stir
uneasily within him. And he went down on his knees and
hid his face in his hands.

Annie does not rest here. Very beautifully and
very truthfully is the progress of her inner life pour-
trayed, and we will not mar the completeness of
the development by any further isolated fragments.
Turn we now to Alec, at the University, where he
makes an enemy and finds a friend, and meets also
with a lady-love to supersede poor homely Annie.
The friendship which Alec makes is at first sight an
unfortunate one. His new friend is Mr. Cupples,
one of the most original characters in the book.
Mr. Cupples is a sort of librarian to the College.
He is a great scholar, and would be a very dyer
and excellent man were it not for his almost con:
tinual intoxication. Conscious of the enormity of
the evil, while he is himself its victim and its slave,
he endeavours with a vehement persistency to save
Alec from the same temptation. He will willingly
give Alec as much " Greek" as he likes, but (even
while continually emptying the tumbler himself)
not one drop of " toddy." Here is an example :

" Wee], Mr. Cupples," Alec ventured to say, "what for
dinna ye sen' the bottle to the deevil ?"
" What, my sin auld tappit hen !" exclaimed Mr. Cup-
ples, with a sudden reaction from the seriousness of his
late mood ; "Na, na, she shanna gang to the deil till we
gang thegither. Eh ! but we'll baith hae dry insides or
we win frae him again, I doobt. That drouth's an awfu'
thing to contemplate. But speyk o' giein' ower the drink!
The verra attemp'—an' dinna ye think that I haena made
it—aich 1 What for sud I gang to hell afore my time ?
The deils themselves compleen o' that ? Na, na. Ance
ye hae learned to drink, ye canna do wantin"t. Man,
dinna touch 't. For God's sake, for yer mither's sake, for
ony sake, dinna let a drap o' the hell-broth gang ower yer
thrapple—or ye're damned like me for ever and ever. It's
as guid's signin' awa' yer sowl wi' yer ain han' and yer ain
blude."

Mr. Cupples lifted his glass, emptied it, and, setting it
down on the table with a gesture of hatred, proceeded to
fill it yet again.
But when some of the troubles of youthful life befall
Alec, when he is disappointed in his dream of love,
he weakly yields to the influences around him, and
not in the society of Mr. Cupples, however, puts the
enemy within his mouth. Great is the grief and
indignation of the poor frail Mentor, and noble at
last the heroism of his friendly devotion. On one
occasion Mr. Cupples endeavours to restrain Alec in.
the midst of his dissipation, and the unhappy youth
mad with drink strikes his devoted friend to the
ground. Then follows a scene which is the turning-
point in the life of Alec Forbes. We give it with-
out comment, it requires none.
When Alec woke in the morning, it rushed upon his
mind that he had had a terrible dream ; and he reproached
himself that oven in a dream ho should be capable of
striking to the earth the friend who had just saved him
from disgrace, and wanted to save him from more. But as
his headache began to yield to cold water, discomposing
doubts rose upon his clearing mental horizon. They were
absurd, but still they were unpleasant. It could be only a
dream, that he had felled the man twice his age, and half
his size, who had once shed his blood for him. But why
did it look so like a fact, if it was only a dream ? Hor-
rible thought ! Could it ?—lt could—lt must be—lt was
a fact!

Haggard with horror as well as revelry, he rushed to-
wards the stair, but was met by Mrs. Leslie, who stopped
him and said :

"Mr. Forbes, gin you and Mr. Cupples gang on at this
rate, I'll be forced to gie ye baith warnin' to flit. I oucht
to hae written to your mither afore noo. Ye'll brack her
hert or a' be dune. Eh ! it's a sair thing when young
lads tak' to drink, and turn reprobate in a jiffie (mo-
ment)."
" I dinna gang to your kirk, and ye needna preach to
me. What's the maitter wi' Mr. Cupples ? He hasna ta'en
to drink in a jiffie, has he ?"
"Ye scorner ! He cam hame last nicht bleedin' at the
heid, and i' the han's o' the watchman. Puir man ! he cud
hardly win up the stair. I canna think hoo he cam' to fa'
sae sair ; for they say there's a special Providence watches
ower drunk men and bairns. He was au awfu' sicht, honest
man ! A terrible mixter o' reid and white."

" What said he about it ?" asked Alec, trembling.
" Ow, naething. lie had naething till say. Ye maunna
gang near him ; for I left him fast asleep. Gang awa bean
to yer ain room, and I'll be in wi' yer brakfisz in ten mi-
nutes. Eh ! but ye wad be a fine lad gin ye wad only gie
up the drink and the ill company."
Alec obeyed, ashamed and full of remorse. The only
thing he could do was to attend to Mr. Cupples's business
in the library, where he worked at the catalogue till the
afternoon lecture was over.

Nobody had seen Beauchamp, and the blinds of Kate's
windows were drawn down.

All day his heart was full of Mr. Cupples ; and 'as he
went home he recalled everything with perfect distinct-
ness, and felt that his conduct had been as vile as it was
possible for conduct to be. Because a girl could not love
him, he had ceased to love his mother, and had given him-
self up to Satan, and had returned the devotion of his
friend with a murderous blow. Because he could not have
a bed of roses, he had thrown himself downin the pig-stye.
He rushed into a public-house, and swallowed two glasses
of whisky. That done, he ran straight home, and ran up
to Mr. Cupples's room.

Mr. Cupples was sitting before the fire, with his hands
on his knees and his head bound in white, bloodstained.
He turned a ghastly face, and tried to smile. Alec's heart
gave way utterly. He knelt at Mr. Cupples's feet, laid his
head on his knee, and burst into very un-Saxon but most
gracious tears. Mr. Cupples laid a small trembling hand on
the boy's head, saying,
"Eh ! bantam, bantam !" and could say no more.
"Mr. Guppies," sobbed Alec, "forgive me. I'll cut my
throat, gin ye like."

"Ye wad do better to cut the deevil's throat."

"Hoo could Ido that ? Tell me, and I'll do 1."
" Wi' tho broken whisky-bottle man. That's at the root
o' a' the mischeef. It's no you. It's the drink. And eh !
Alec, we micht be richt happy thegither efter that. I wad
mak' a scholar o' ye."

"Seel, Mr. Cupples, ye hae a richt to demando' me what
ye like ; for henceforth ye hae the pooer o' life or deith
ower me. But gin I try to brak throw the drinkin', I mama
hand oot ower free the smell o't ; an' I doobt," added Alec
slyly, "ye wadna hae the chance o' makin' muckle o' a
scholar o' me in that case."

And now the darkroots of thought and feeling blossomed
into the fair flower of resolution.

"Bantam," said Mr. Cupples solemnly, "I sweir to God,
gin t'e'll gie ower the drink and the lave o' yer ill gaits,
I'll gie ower the drink as weel. I hae naething ither to gie
ower. But that winna be easy," he added with a sigh,
stretching his hand towards his glass.
From a sudden influx of energy, Alec stretched his hand
likewise towards the same glass, and laying hold on it as
Mr. Cupples was raising it to, his lips, cried—
" I sweir to God likewise.—And noo," he added, leaving
his hold of the glass, "ye daurna drink it."
Mr. Cupples threw glass and all into the fire.
" That's my fareweel libation to the infernal Bacchus,"
he said. "Let it gang to swall the low o' Phlegethon.
But eh ! it's a terrible undertakin'. mair nor Hercules
himsel' could hae made anything o'. Bantam ! I hae saicri-
feesed mysel' to you. Haud to your pairt, or I canna haud
to mine."

It was indeed a terrible undertaking. I doubt whether
either of them would have had courage for it, had he not
been under those same exciting influences 'which, under-
mining all power of manly action, yet give for the moment
a certain amount of energy to expand. But the limits are
narrow within which, by wasting his capital, a man secures
a supply of pocket-money. And for them the tug of war
was to come.

And here at this crisis we take leave of Alec Forbes,
commending his history very heartily to our readers.
They will find in it, as the above examples testify,
vigorous writing and genuine feeling. The charac-
ters, in their weaknesses and waywardness, in their
faults and frailties, are true to nature, to poor
human nature ; but the silver lining as well as the
cloud is revealed, and the divine aspirations which
ennoble the weakness and efface the failings are
felicitously interwoven by the appreciative care of
one who to the tender sympathy of the poet unites
the vital faith of the Christian. All who thought-
fully peruse Alec Forbes will corroborate this
eulogium, and unite with us in cordial congratu-
lations to its author.

THE BISHOP OF DURHAM AND THE SCOTTISH
CLERGY.-At a recent meeting of the clergy of the rural
deanery of Belford, it was agreed to ask the Bishop of
Durham how far they might go in occasionally availing
themselves of the assistance of clerical friends ordained in
Scotland without troubling his lordship with special appli-
cation for leave. in his reply Bishop Baring said :—"With
reference to your question respecting clergy of the Episcopal
communion in Scotland, I beg to inform you that I do not
allow any clergyman to officiate in my diocese'who is not
ordained by some bishop of the United Church of England
and Ireland."

-
(ttfutt Cir Tat

HER MAJESTY.

BALMORAL, June 7.
The Queen, accompanied by Princess Louise,
drove out yesterday morning.
In the afternoon her Majesty, with Princess
Louise and Prince Leopold, attended by the
Duchess of Athole, went to Alt-na-Guithasach.
Princess Helena and Prince Arthur, attended by
Mrs. Gordon and Miss Bowater, ascended Ben Y
Baurd.