The Sun.
London, England, 1847-11-04 00:00:00

BENTLEY.

The present number of Bentley opens with an in-
teresting biographical sketch of ThorwaHsen, from the
pen of Hans Christian Andersen, translated, at the
desire of the author, by Mr. C. Beckwith. It is il-
lustrated with engravings by Cooke, from Horace
Vernet's celebrated portrait of the great Danish
sculptor. " The Fltmeur in Paris" brings his some-
what desultory but most amusing sketches of Pa-
risian life to a conclusion in this number, as does
Mr. Maxwell his novel of " Brian O'Linn." Cooper
continues his " Captain Spike," and seems preparing
for a catastrophe. The Swash is moored alongside
the wreck of the schooner, and Spike is endeavouring
to weigh her, to secure the doubloons ; in the
meantime the Poughskeepie, with Mulford and Rose
on board, is advancing from the Dry Torturgas to-
wards the place where the S wash is moored. The
most interesting paper in this number is the one
entitled " The Marriage of Philip 11. of Spain and
Mary of England," and is a Spanish account of the
marriage and of the negotiations by which it was pre-
ceded. It consists principally of translations from
the letters of Count Egmont, Simon Renard, the
Spanish Ambassador, and Rui Gomez de Silva, a
gossipping nobleman, who came over to England in
the suite of Philip 11. Mr. Duncan continues his
account of the "Niger Expedition," and Mr. Marvel
his "Gallop through South Austria." Albert Smith
contributes a humorous poetical epistle from an Old
Country House, and Charles Whitehead gives us a
paper on the " Wooden Walla of Old England,"
which is illustrated by a quaint engraving from
Froissart, of the Expedition of the Knights of France
and England to Africa in 1390. The number con-
cludes with three exquisite Latin translations of the
nursery rhyme, " Twinkle, twinkle, little Star."
The first into hexameters, the second into pentame-
ters, and the last into sapphics. Of these the last
is the most elegant.

DOMBEY AIVD SON. No. XIV. By Charles
Dickens.

Chapter the forty-second, being " Confidential and
Accidental," recounts the installation of Rob the
Grinder in the household of Mr. Carker the Mana-
ger, every one of whose glittering teeth seem to the
imagination of that young gentleman to Ise perpe-
tually " finding him out, and taxing him with every
fancy of his mind." Mr. Dom bey breakfasts one
fine morning at Carker's, and in the course of a pom-
pous conversation, entrusts his agent with an insolent
message to Edith. After the breakfast the great
merchant and his crafty menial proceed townwards
on horseback, Mr. Dombey, in his dignity, not only
riding with very long stirrups and a very loose rein,
but very seldom condescending to look down to see
where his horse went. In consequence of which it
happened that Mr. Dombey's horse, while going at a
round trot, "stumbled on some loose stones, threw him,
rolled over him, and lashing out with his iron-shod
feet, in his struggles to get up, kicked him." He is
conveyed home with divers contusions and several
lesser ribs broken. Florence creeps into her
father's chamber in the dead of the night, and kisses
him while he is sleeping. The scene is exquisitely
drawn. The terrible Mrs. Pipchin has been duly
installed as housekeeper, and is described by Susan
Nipper as among those Mrs. Pipchinses " who keep
guard at Mr. Dombey's door like crocodiles—only
make us thankful that they lay no eggs !" Susan
can stand this state of things no longer, and rises
next morning resolved to penetrate into the awful
presence of her master, and have speech with, that
gentleman alone. " I have often said I would,: she
remarks, " and now I will." This she accordingly
does. She reminds Mr. Dombey of her long attend-
ance on Miss Floy, and her consequent fitness to
judge of the real character of her young mistress.
" I may not be Meethosalem," she says, "hut I am
not a child in arms." Mr. Dombey is aghast, and
Nipper,
however, her to leave the room. The relentless
however, declares her resolution to say her say out—
"I may not be an Indian widow sir and I am not
and I would not so become but if I once made up
my mind to burn myself alive I'd do it !" She stays
accordingly, and opens a brisk fire of eloquence upon •
the sick gentleman on the sofa. Mr. Dombey, in a
gartehaetrle than
ngth nothing.onthe d,2s Miss Nipper
of h
paroxysm of rage, makes a gra3p at the bell-rope
that was not there, and, in its absence,
epulls his hair,
r
claimsat
t
Florence, and de-
clares that she has long seen her wretchedness—"l
may not be a peacock'," is her illustration, " but I
nave my eyes," In the
Midst of this harangue, the
excellent ogress who presides over the establishment,
as housekeeper bursts into the apartment:—
" Why, hoity toity!" cuffed the voice of Mrs.
Pipchin,
es the black. bonab2zeen garment; of that fair. Peruvian
Miner swept into tho room. " What's this, indeed!"
Susan favoured Mrs. Pipchin with a look she had ,

invented expressly for her when they first became ac-
quainted, and resigned the reply to Mr. Dombey.
..;" What's this!" repeated Mr. Dombey, almost foam-
ins,. Whnt'.3 rhia, 'cite-lem? y-eq, rhr. fire mr the head
01 tills ii,u.eehold, awl leafed to keep it in order, have
reason to inquire. Do you kno.v this woman?"
" I know very little good of her, Sir," croaked Mrs.
Pipchin. " How dare you come here, you hussy? Go
along with you!"
But the inflexible Nipper, merely honouring Mrs.
Pipchin with another look, remained.
"Do you call it managing this establishment,
Madam," said Mr. Dombey, " to leave a person like this
at liberty to come and talk to me! A gentleman—in his
own house—in his own room—assailed with the imper-
tincncies of women servants!"
" Well Sir," returned Mrs. Pipchin, with vengeance
in her hard grey eye, " I exceedingly deplore it;
nothing can be more irre,s„,sular; nothing can b 3 more
out of all bounds and reason; but I regret to say, Sir,
that this young women is quite beyond control. She
has been spuiled by Miss Duinb..v, and is amenable to
nobody. You know you're net," said Mrs. Pipchin,
sharply, and shaking her head at Susan Nipper. " For
shame, you hussy! Go along with you!"
"If you find people in my seethe,' who are not to be
controlled Mrs. Pipchin," said Mr. Dombey, turning
back towards the fire, " you know what to do with
them, 1 presume. You know what you are here for?
Take her away !"
" Sir, I know what to do," retorted Mrs. Pipchin,
"and of course shall do it. Susan Nipper, snapping
her up particularly short, "a month's warning from this
hour."
" Oh indeed!" cried Susan, loftily.
" Yes," returned Mrs. Pipchin, " and don't smile at
me, you minx, or I'll know the reason why! Go along
with you this minute!"
"I intend to go this minute '
, 3 ou m rely upon it,"
said the voluble Nipper. "I have been in this house
waiting on my young lady a deem year and I won't
stop in it one hour under notice from a person owning
to the name of Pipchin trust me, Mrs. P."
"A good riddance of bad rubbish!" said that wrath-
ful old lady. " Get along with you, or I'll have you
carried out!"
" My comfort is," said
Susan lookin back at Mr.
Dombey, "that I have told a piece of t back
this day
which ought to have been told long before, and can't
be told too often or too plain, and that no amount of
,
Pipchinses—l hope the number of'em mayn't be great"
(here Mrs. Pipchin uttered a very sharp " Go along
with you!" and Miss Nipper repeated the look) " can
unsay what I have said, though they gave a whole year
full of warnings beginning at ten o'clock in the forenoon
and never leaving off till twelve at night and died of the
exhaustion which would be a Jubilee!"
With these words, Miss Nipper preceded her foe out
of the room; and walking up stairs to her own apart-
ment in great state, to the choaking exasperation of the
ireful Pipchin, sat down among her boxes and began
to cry.
From this soft mood she was soon aroused, with a
very wholesome and refreshing effect, by the voice of
Mrs. Pipchin outside the door.
"Does that bold-faced slut," said the fell Pipchin,
"intend to take her warning, or does she not?"
Miss Nipper replied from within that the person de-
scribed did not inhabit that part of the house, but that
her name was Pipchin, and she was to be found in the
housekeeper's room.
"You saucy baggage!" retorted Mrs. Pipchin, rat-
tling at the handle of the door. "Go along with you
this minute. Pack up your things directly! How dare
you talk in this way to a gentlewoman who has seen
better days?"
To which Miss Nipper rejoined from her castle, that
she pitied the better days that had seen Mrs. Pipchin;
and that for her part she considered the worst days in
the year to be about that lady's mark, except that they
were much too good for her.
" But you needn't trouble yourself to make a noise at
my door,"
said Susan Nipper, "nor to contaminate the
key-hole with your eye, I'm packing up and going you
may take your affidavit.
The Dowager expressed her lively satisfaction at this
intelligence, and with some general opinions upon
young hussies as a race, and especially upon their de•
merits after being spoiled by Miss Dombey, withdrew
to prepare the Nipper's wages. Susan then bestirred
herself to get her trunks in order, that she might take
an immediate and dignified departure; sobbing heartily
all the time, as she thought of Florence.
Susan Nipper is soon afterwards conveyed away
in a hackney-coach, escorted, at the request of Flo-
rence, by Mr. Toots. Previously, however, to her
departure from London to her brother's at Essex,
Mies Nipper is hospitably entertained at the chambers
of Mr. Toots, where she is introduced to the Game
Chicken, recently discomfitted in single combat with
the Larkey Boy:his visage being in such a state of
dilapidation as to he hardly presentable in society
with comfort to the beholders :.
The Chicken himself attributed this punishment to
his having bad the misfortune to get into Chancery
early in the proceedings, when he was severely fibbed
by the Larkey one, and heavily grassed. But it ap-
peared from the published records of that great contest
that the Larkey Boy had had it all his own way from
the beginning, and that the Chicken had been tapped,
and bunged, and had received pepper, and had been
made groggy, and had come up piping, and had endured
a complication of similar strange inconveniences, until
he had been gone into and finished.
At the coach-office Mr. Toots pops his head in al
the coach-window :

"I say, Susan! Miss Dombey, you know—"
" Yes, Sir.".

"Do you think she could—you know—eh?"
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Toots," said Susan, "but I
don't hear yon."
"Do you think she could be brought, you know--
not exactly at once, but in time—in a long time—to—
to love me, you know! There!" said poor Mr. Toots.
" Oh, dear no!" returned Susan, shaking her head.
" I should say, never. Ne—ver!"
Thank'ee!" said Mr. Twits. " It's of no conse-
quence. Go )d night. It's of no consequence, thank'ec! '
Chapter the forty-fifth tells of the interview between
"The Trusty Agent" and Mrs. Dotnbey. The aim
of Carker's slyness is here disclosed more palpably.

DOLMAN.
Not a single paper from the old contributors—from
Mr. Keegan, Mr.Jerningham, Mr. Buckingham, or
the rest—is contained in the number for November.
Even the editor has lapsed into silence, excepting in
the compilation of " Catholic Intelligence,"
where he
takes occasion to commend in a few earnest words the
glorious social and political reforms adventured upon
by Pope Pius. An American writer, in the first
article, commences a series of " Irish Gleanings,"
and imparts to a familiar theme something like an air
of novelty, seeing that Flibernia is there regarded as
it appeared to an United States' man. " The Mixed
Marriage" is rather an induction to a story than a
story itself—the pith of the narrative being reserved for
December. This induction, however, is smartly told,
and in a new manner, being the conversations of the
occupants of a railway carriage. " The Adventures
of a Schoolboy," by a Convert, is an odd passage of
autobiography, which will be pleasant reading even
t hoef
Na largeru m
e isg growth. But e a
ded ,t,hTe
hbest
Catho-
licity
con-
tributiontocioldfrEeinnnglish Poetry." It is a graceful effusion.

THE METiroPoLITAN MAGAZINE.
Pleasant stories and scraps of versification are, as
usual, the principal contents of the Metropolitan.
Among the poetical contributors Mrs. Crawford is
the most prominent, and among the tales the best are
"Geraldine O'Donnell" and " The Unfounded Sus-
picion," The editor of the magazine embellishes its
pages with a brief,, but suggestive paper on "2Esthe-
tical Criticism.

THE ECLECTIC REVIEW.
The navigation laws and the education question
are again discussed, with an ability which must
render the articles agreeable reading even to those
who are sated with the numerous arguments penned
and spoken upon both themes. The revival of Pro-
testantism in France, and the travels of Wilson and
Tischendorti in the East will be perused with interest
by the Nonconformists.