The Sun.
London, England, 1849-05-07 00:00:00

manlier,

FRANK FORBSTER AND HIS FRIENDS.
By TV. IL Herbert. 3 Vols.
The author of " Cromwell" and of " Field Sports in
the United States," two very dissimilar works to be
written by the same pen, has now united the sportsman
with the novelist, and produced a book which possesses
equal attractions for the lovers of field sports, and
for the general reader. Mr. Herbert is evidently an
enthusiastic votary of the " noble science of Wood-
craft," as he terms it. According to the revelations
of Frank Forester, it would seem that a thorough
sportsman is something of an admirable Crichton.
He can turn his hand to anything. The stern ap-
prenticeship, which an American sportsman must go
through, endues him (according to Mr. Herbert, and
very probably he is right to a certain extent,) with
almost universal knowledge, or at least it obliges him
to make use of all his powers of observation,
and all his reasoning faculties, and consequently he is
(naturally enough) the very man for an emergency.
bNroi nmg aat tme ru
rwhatder e r tthoe
justice,difficulty
oor to
tm ay
"makebe,
twhethertwo
loversto
happy," tne sportsman's ready ingenuity and in
stinctive quickness of perception igonn overcomess•alt v
e it
triumphantly. In proof of this peculiar t
may cite two instances in which Frank Forester'snle
sporting friend, Harry, greatly distinguished himself.
Frank and Harry, and an old huntsman, were out
shooting in the forest when, hearing a shot fired at a
little distance u fromse;
them, em
his, Houmarpryaniurnasn oonverttoakiug
in-
quiretheya knownfound himto contemplating the corpse
bofim a n
m
evi-
dently 1
bullet
et been
had
pkiielrlecded his brain, the shot just fired.
thbern
all, who had evi-
rain, and was found in a
tree at a little distance his
lay by his side, it seemed
ordinarygun,thatthehadhuntsman,committed
suicide.
spectator would
Surprise and grief
keen
have thought; but not so Harry.
tbe observation.b
bullet in no wise diminished his powers
ofthan
thtae
He bade his friends notice that
descended in traversing the skull, the aperture
back of the dead man's head being lower
front. Had he shot himself the gun would havet abtein
been
pointed upwards, and the bullet would conse-
quently have ascended. Then making Fran
stand at the corpse's feet, in the very place where the
victim had stood when receiving the shot, he bade
the old huntsman go to the tree where the bullet
had lodged, and, looking at Frank, take the direction
from whence the shot must have come. These pre-
liminaries being concluded, and it being evient twos
murder had been committed, Harry's next d
care was
to discover and trace the footsteps of the criminal.
This was accomplished with some difficulty, the
murderer having made use of the Inand leaves dian's dodge
but
of
covering his footsteps with branches
Harry was acquainted with this trick also, and with
a little trouble got upon the fugitive's traces. We
will not follow him in his perilous'pursuit ; from what
we have said it may be seen that Frank Forester's ad•
ventures are in no way deficient in interest,
but that interest is not always of such an appalling
character ; for example, on the other occasion to which
we alluded above, when one of Frank Forester's friends
found it necessary to " run away " with his promise;,d
bride, in consequence of her brother's invincible
objection to her wedding an Englishman, Harry
conducted the elopement with his usual skill. We
will not, by abbreviating it, spoil the very excitiny
description of how Harry drove the runaways in his
sledge at full speed through field and forest, with the
angry brother close upon their heel s.. The denouementis

SHAKSPERE QUOTATIONS. By E. J.

Walbran.
The title-page of this little volume describes it as a
"dictionary of Shakspere quotations; being a collec-
tion of the maxims, proverbs, and most remarkable
passages i❑ the plays and poems of Shakspere, ar-
ranged in alphabetical order." As a work of refe-
rence this compilation will be useful to those who
possess a copy of Shakspere's works, while to persons
not possessed of such a. treasure, or not well ac-
qutlintecl with the great dramatist, this epitome of
the wit and wisdom scattered throughout his pages
will prove an inestimable advantage. It is beautifully
printed, and " well got up," and well adapted to the
drawing-room table, where it would serve as an
admirable source of profitable employment for an idle
minute, or as a topic of conversation when the
changes of the weather are exhausted. " A word in
season, how good is it," and many a word in season
meets the eye of the casual turner over of these pages
—words of comfort to the afflicted, of hope to the
despairing, of reproof to the erring, vide a few ex-
amples chosen almost at random. "Forbear to judge,
for we are sinners all"—" Men shut their doors
against a setting sun"—" 0 that men should put an
enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains"—
" 'Tis the mind that makes the body rich,
And as the sun breaks through the darkest cloud,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit."
" 'Tis one thing to be tempted, another thing to fall"
—"Tell truth and shame the devil "—" Talkers are no
good doers"—" Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow"
" It is better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief
And wear a golden sorrow. '
But our columns would soon be full to the exclusion
of more important (?) matter if we attempted to
quote all the wise sayings of Shakspere. We will-
ingly refer our readers to Mr. Walbran. He is
well-qualified to perform the office of cicerone
through this labyrinth of treasures.

LOFODEN ; or the Exiles of Norway. By E.
W. Landor, Author of " The Bushman." 2 Vols.
In the preface of " Lofodeu" we find the following
startling anecdote, related as an illustration that
truth is stranger than fiction ever dares to be :
" Early in the summer of 1846, two Englishmen were
travelling in an open carriage in the south-east of
France. Whilst descending a mountain of terrific steep-
ness, down the side of which the road wound in a zig-
zag fashion, the wheel got jerked out of the skid-pan or
drag, and the horses gradually increasing their pace,
flew at full speed down the almost precipitous road. The
travellers, perceiving the awful danger to which they
were exposed, threw themselves down at the bottom of
the carriage. Suddenly the leading horses shied at some
object before them, and instantly dashed over the low
wall at the side of the road, followed by the others,
while the postilion threw himself on the ground. Down
below was almost a sheer precipice of two or three hun-
dred feet. Over went the horses and carriage. One of
the travellers afterwards described to me (Mr. Landor)
his sensations. He said there was scarcely time to think,
but he was perfectly conscious they were going down the
precipice, and expected to be instantly dashed to pieces,
when suddenly there was a violent jerk which almost
shook them out of the carriage, their descent was
arrested, and they seemed to be almost hanging in mid
air. They both raised themselves cautiously to recon-
noitre their position. Looking down the precipitous
slope of the mountain, they saw far below them
the horses lying together in a heap in the lower road,
apparently dead. Looking upwards they saw above
them the broken wall ; in a few moments the blank and
terror-stricken visage of the postilion was seen peering
hopelessly over. On perceiving them it was illuminated
with delight, which, the next instant, gave way to
horror. The dreg of the carriage bad become jammed
in a crevice of the rock, and now sustained the whole
weight of the vehicle as it hung upon the slope of the
precipice. Ropes were procured, and the travellers were
rescued."
" This," observes the author of "Lofoden," " is an
incident of real life, such as the most daring romance
writer would not venture to introduce into a work of
fiction." He has, apparently, cited it at the very
commencement of his work in order to protect him-
self against the charge of improbability, for the pages
of " Lofoden " abound with startling adxen-
tures. The first volume opens with a , little
incident that powerfully excites the reader's
interest, a great thing for the first chapter of
a novel, which is generally a most hum-drum affair.
A wanderer is pursuing his way through a desolate
tract of country, and his footsteps are closely fol-
lowed by a wolf, which is patiently waiting till dark-
ness and fatigue have rendered the lonely traveller
his prey. A violent snow-storm obliges the fugitive
to take shelter in a small cavern, where the wolf fol-
lows him, but is kept at a distance from his destined
prey by a light which is kindled by the traveller.
The wretched man seas the protecting fire gradually
expiring, and his enemy grimly watching him. He
endeavours, while a spark of light yet remains, to
frighten the wolf from the cave. At his
loud shout the cowardly animal rushes to
the entrance—it is blocked up by the
newly-fallen snow. This incident, which would
have seemed to be the stranger's destruction, proves
his safeguard. The wolf, no longer seeking to
molest the man, rolls upon the ground in an agony of
terror. A foot note reminds the reader of a fact in
natural history, on which this incident is founded.
" The most ferocious wolf, when it falls into a pit
from which there is no escape, becomes overwhelmed
with terror, and offers no resistance to the hunter,
who descends and leisurely dispatches him. When
this animal finds his retreat cut off, he displays the
most abject cowardice." This adventure is narrated
with a minuteness and simplicity that gives it an ap-
pearance of reality, we almost see the wolf's eye
glaring upon his companion as he stands at the en-
trance to the cave. The author of " Lofoden"
possesses a power of description which gives
a peculiar force and interest to the ter-
rible and exciting scenes of which he tells.
The catastrophe, notwithstanding the adventure of
the English travellers, we cannot but think somewhat
improbable, and the character of Lofoden himself in
no wise excites our interest or sympathy. Such a
character, nevertheless, is a likely result of the cruel
treatment which embittered the life of the exile ; we
do not like him nevertheless. Beyond these two re-
servations we have no fault to find with "Lofoden."
The old pastor and his daughters, the gentle Grace
and the excellent Ellinor, interest us in their behalf,
while the unhappy prisoners in the mines, virtuous
men condemned from political causes to a punishment
never awarded to the most heinous guilt, alternately
excite our indignant horror and our heartfelt commis-
seration. These scenes and characters Mr. Landor has
described with a masterly hand, for example, the picture
of the captive father and son—the stern baron, too
proud to exhibit the tenderness and sorrow which
overpower him, and the gentle Orla, a victim of
filial love fading away by his father's side, both re-
fusing to make any attempt at escape, because the
punishment of such an attempt will be separation, is
most admirable and truly pathetic. If Lofoden indi-
vidually do not very greatly excite our sympathy,
the volumes which bear his name contain a variety
of very interesting and attractive characters—the
most attractive of which is.the wronged peasant-girl
Olga. The baron's welcome home forms a worthy
pendant to the harrowing scene of his captivity, but,
alas! the gentle Orla is then beyond the reach of par-
don. We have spoken only of the scenes and charac-
ters of " Lofoden," but before taking leave of it we
must not omit to remark that the principles which it
enforces, and the thoughts to which it gives expres-
sion, are as excellent and beautiful as its incidents are
startling. It is as good as it is interesting, and that is
saying a great deal.

LADY ALICE; or, the New Una. 3 Vols.
We sympathise deeply with the anxiety naturally
felt by the novel-writer to find some new subject for
his pen. Now-a days, when there are almost as many
novel-writers as novel-readers, the difficulty must be
almost insurmountable. The author of " Lady
Alice" has, however, hit upon a rather unusual expe-
dient. He tells us boldly in his preface that he does
not aim at beings natural—a very unnecessary piece
of information to any one who may peruse his pages.
We will not proceed to discuss the various interesting
or uninteresting scenes and characters of "Lady
Alice," the tout ensemble of the novel is
brilliant and amusing, we admit, but on
this point we take our stand :—Should or
should not a work of fiction bear the sem-
blance of reality ? Here we beg to differ from the
author of " Lady Alice." To give a literal narrative
of common-place events v'vould, we allow, be a some-
what low aim for a man of genius ; on the contrary,
we agree with this writer in his high estimate of the
ideal excellence which should be the object of t'
true artist. But, his error lies in the notion tha,
the real and the ideal are contradictory terms. There
is a chapter in " Zanoni" (if we mistake not) which
treats of the nice distinction between these terms,
and we recommend its perusal to the author of "Lady
Alice." Let him bear in mind that the ideal is not a
contradiction to, but an improvement on, the real ;
for example, how did the artists of Greece produce
those ideal perfections which posterity still contem-
plates with " admiring despair ?" It is well known
that they made use of real models—they copied the
excellences of a hundred different beauties—the brow
of one, the lip of another, the smile of a third. When
the statue was completed, its lorious beauty hno
earthly prototype, yet who should dare to call itad un-
natural? It was reality idealised. And so it should
Let
he in the world of fiction.the poet or the novel-
ist present us, if he will, with
someimaginary crea-
fections, that we may admire and
ture of ideal per
let him give us, if he will, super-
strive to imitate—
human nature purified and
natural excellence,