The Sun.
London, England, 1856-11-04 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

Little Dorrit. No. XII. By Charles Dickens.
The Dorrits are still upon their Italian travels
—a-pleasuring. The principal portion of the No-
•'ember number for 1856 (No. xii.) is occupied by
a circumstantial account of their doings in the pa-
laces and among the grandees of Venice. Mr.
Dorrit being " much among Counts and Mar-
quises." Mr. Tinkler, his valet, being in attend-
ance. Mrs. General being accessible at stab. 1
times to the valet, and anybody else connected with
the great House of Dorrit, seated in one of the
Venetian palace-halls, with her feet on " a little
square of carpet, so extremely diminutive in re-
ference to the size of her stone and marble floor,
that she looked as if she might have had it spread
for the trying on of a ready-made pair of shoes ;
or as if she had come into possession of the en-
chanted piece of carpet, bought for forty pieces by
one of the three princes in the Arabian Nights,
and had that moment been transported on it, at a
wish, into a palatial saloon with which tip had no
connection." Gondolas and gondoliers attached
to the establishment of the Dorrit Family, ever
swinging drowsily in a little forest of piles in the
grand canal hard by their temporary residence—
prepared at any moment to glide away over the
surface of the silent highways of the Fairy City
of the Adriatic at the behest or for the behoof, at
the beck and at the bidding, of Mr. Dorrit, late
of the Marshalsea—of Edward Dorrit, Esquire, ex-
Tip of the London billiard-rooms and stable-yards
—of Frederick Dorrit, Esq., until very recently
of the suburban clarionet—of Miss Dorrit, the ex.
danseuse, and of dear little Amy Dorrit—Little
Dorrit, in faet,—the ex-milliner. Besides the
Dorrits, we are introduced again at Venice to the
Gowans—and between these two groups of the
Gowans and the Dorrits there flutter out upon our
view, every now and then, the wonderfully con-
trasting characters of Sparkler the noodle, and
Blandois of Paris, otherwise Rigaud, the mur-
derer ! "Something Wrong Somewhere " (ch. v.)
reveals to us little Amy placed at a disadvantage
by all her relations with the single exception of
old Uncle Frederick. A comatose old gentle..
man, who wakes up nobly in her defence one
fine morning at breakfast. Striking the
table with a great blow (directly she has left
the room), and protesting against her disparage-
ment solemnly, " in the face of God," as against an
act of evil pride and heinous ingratitude. Speak-
ing thus, gesticulating thus, denouncing thus the
miserable family pretensions—(writes our author)
—" As his hand went up above his head and came
down on the table, it might have been a blacksmith's."
Adding—" After a moment's silence it had relaxed
into its usual weak condition." " Something
Right Somewhere" is scarcely so comprehensible a
title to the next chapter (vi.)—revealing to the
reader, as it does, first of all,Sparkler fairly brought
to the feet of Miss Fanny—and secondly, Blandois
of Paris and Lion, "the objectionable dog," sud-
denly at loggerheads—" Instinct," in the latter
instance, proving, as we are told, " stronger than
Training." Lion, in fact, attempts to tear the
unknown murderer in pieces—only to be himself
murdered, poisoned, by the treacherous white hand!
" Mostly, Prunes and Prism" is the heading of the
other chapter (vii.), completing the present number
(xii.) of " Little Dorrit"—a wholly bewildering
phrase, of course, to any and every one who has

not previously had his laugh out in an earlier page
(356), over Mrs. General's correction of Little
Dorrit's Marshalsea vulgarism in calling her Father
—" Father."

"Papa is a. preferable mode of address," observed
Mrs. General. " Father is rather vulgar, my dear.
The word Papa, besides, gives a pretty form to the lips.
Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes, and prism, are all very
good words for the lips ; especially prunes and prism.
You will find it serviceable, in the formation of a de-
meanour, if you sometimes say to yourself in company
_ . •

—on entering a room, for instance—Papa, potatoes,
poultry, prunes and prism, prunes and prism."

Wherefore, "Mostly, Prunes and Prism," as the
title of chapter seven, merely implies by the
suggestion of a ludicrous inference, the develop-
ment of a " surface" in Amy's regard, under the
varnishing influence of Mrs. General, seated upon
her elevated coach-box, keeping the proprieties
well together ! Towards the close of the number

the scene is changed from Venice to Rome—from
Tenice, with its "prevdiling odor of bilge water
and an ebb-tide on a weedy shore," to Rome, "a
city, where everything seemed to be trying to stand
still for ever on the ruins of something else!" An-
ticipations are held out to us, by the way, of two
very astounding events in the istory of the Dorrits
—the probable marriage of old Mr. Dorrit and
Mrs. General, of the Varnish and the Proprieties,
and the Prunes and Prism surfacing !—and the
possible absorption, a little later on, of the sud-
denly acquired wealth of the family, in—what
one of Mr. Merdle's, the Great Merdle's the Mer-
dle's gigantic speculations. We shall see. The
former of these two astounding turns of the wheel
is plainly spoken of—the latter is merely vaguely,
dimly, hinted at ! Who knows—perhaps the
Dorrits, after all, may sett. down again in their old
quarters at the Marshalsea.

Mr. Arle. 2 Tole. Hurst and Blackett.
This tale is apparently the work of a young
writer, one who has insufficiently studied the art of
novel writing, and who, though not devoid of
ability, is wanting in the tact and discretion ac-
quired by experience. The skill with which
a higher order of novelists unravel their plots, and
by turns thrill the reader with sympathy, or excite
his eager interest by painting faithfully the real
sufferings of life under the garb of fiction, or by
inter weaving with their tale some of those startling
events that sometimes prove that "truth is stranger
than fiction," is wanting here. The story is not
without interest, nor the, characters without indi-
viduality, but they are sometimes more eccentric
than attractive. Two children who are introduced
are, perhaps, the least pleasing persons in the book.
One of them is of a Spanish family, and, being a
lonely orphan, it is natural that she should be pe-
culiar and unchildlike. But the other, a little
brother of the heroine, is without such excuse. The
heroine is the most attractive person, the hero
being, of course, Mr. Arle. She is the daughter of
Mr. Stanton, a cleq,iyrna,n, who leaves the church
from conscientious scruples. Hilda Stanton feels
herself bound to break off her engagement with the
heir of the neighbouring manor, owing to the
great change in their worldly position. Her lover
is a weak and vacillating individual, whose family
strongly urge him to agree in her decision. The
engagement is, however, renewed conditionally ;
but before the end of the time of probation the
gentleman meets an heiress of great attractions,
and renounces his former attachment. Mr. Stan-
ton and his son and daughter remove to a quiet
country spot, where Mr. Arlo appears on the scene.
The acquaintance between him and Hilda is very
much in the style of those quarrelling lovers who have
lately been the fashion. Mr. Arle has also met
with a disappointment from the falsehood of his
betrothed, and finds in Hilda a more worthy object
of affection. He manifests it in a very eccentric
way, however, and as Hilda often resents his lec-
tures and satires their acquaintance is anything but
harmonious. He proves himself a true friend to
them notwithstanding, and on her father's pre-
carious health rendering a warmer climate neces-
sary he invites him to accompany Min Sp
ain.
His His daughter, strange to say, does not_ go with
them, and has the bitterness of hearing
TOM Mr.
f
Arlo that her father lies in a foreign grave.
.On
Arle and Hilda
his return after some delays,
Mrtheir troubles are
arrive at an understanding,
of the story, but
over. This is the main thraeuadd
there are many minor characters and
are only two vo-
lumes, events. There
is no lack of incident, for h
do well to avoid the
sentences and re-
flections.l frequentum e s, but
introduction
writer
of would
or
of undoubted truth are
Thoughts
often presented ; but eithout great care in their
and expression,
weary instead of impressing the
novelty of
l is not at all inferior to many
reader. The novel theyintro introduction i oanp
ta
to
od force w
appear every season. It is because
t ces of power and ability that
the reader
it
tf
showsthose wfrheiqc
is rendered more criticaltowards the
Let. the writer exercise more j udg-
inferior parts.
me time that he makes less effort,
ment at the same
and he will no doubt achieve. for himself many
successes in the world of fiction.
frequent .traces

The reports brought by the overland mail regarding
the fresh goldfield discovered in New South Wales wilt
cause further arrivals from Australia to be looked for
with great interest.
The spot is at Rocky River, near
Bathurst, which lies in the interior, about 120 miles from
Sydney, and is close to a district marked as extensively
auriferous in the official map published in the Govern-
ment blue-hook on the goldfields in January, 1853.
According to some of the statements in the Sydney
papers, the amounts obtained were larger and the suc-
cess more universal than bad been experienced at any
other mines, diggers from Victoria being of opinion
that it would prove the richest field yet discovered in
any part of the world. As these allegations aro repre-
sented to have been made after several thoutsanthdse
per..
sons had been for some days on th
a pus eibility they may prove be r.
majority of such accounts. One other hand the
!
at
people of the adjoining colony of Victoria were
that the whole affair had been grosslye exaggerated
that great disappointment would suit
e r af E

BOST NIT PIO STATES.

( Prom tke Times' Special Correspondeid.)

BOSTON, OCT. 19.
Those who gave the name of New England to
this group of the northern provinces of America
were happier in their choice than most of the dis-
coverers and settlers who have dispersed the names
of the Old World over new regions with little
meaning and much confusion of geography. New
England might at first be only the expression of
remewbiance, but time has converted it into much
more. The people worked in the spirit of the laud
they left ; there has been less infusion of the
foreign elements that may be tracad in other parts
of America, and gradually New Dagland has
grown into a very close reproduction of the old.
Both in town and country an Englishman finds
much quite familiar to him. Landing at Boston,
he was to rub his eyes slightly and recall the waste
of ocean he has traversed before he thoroughly
" realises" the fact that he is not at home ; the dif-
ference is so slight and to be remarked mostly in
minor peculiarities. In New York, but for the
language, he might be puzzled to say exactly where
be was ; over that cosinopolite capital two or three
European cities seem to have been shaken, and
then stirred up with it. There is something of its
Dutch origin ; the tree-planted streets, minus the
canals, for instance, are importations from Holland,
and among the best things the Dutchmen have left
behind them. There is much that is German, still
more that is French, in taste, dress, and decora-
tion, and there are localities at once new and
dilapidated, regularly built but squalid and dis-
orderly, settlements that are the ragged fringe of
its purple, which repeat but too faithfully the fea-
tures of the Liberties and St. Giles. The most
distinctly British contribution to New York is,
unhappily, the least favourable, a fact not forgot-
ten in any account struck between the nations. But
the capital of New England, Boston, has only one
character ; it is solidly and steadily English, set-
tled down into an English mould, and hardened
in it. It has refused admittance to foreign fashions,
or admitted them only with considerable modifica-
tion of their original type. The thoroughly French
cafe you are delighted to find is still an exotic, it
only throws a few innovations into the confec-
tioner's ; the completely German speisekeller, it is
a pleasure to remark, does not flourish, not getting
much beyond oysters ; nay, even the American
bar-room, with its gay decorations and elaborate
apparatus, is chastened and, so to speak, sobered ;
much subdued in light and colour, it retires into
back shops and premises so unobtrusive that often
it is only known to the initiated. In this resist-
ance to foreign institutions there may be much
that is merely provincial, but something must also
be ascribed to a kindred and commendable preju-
dice against things un-English, as there is an evi-
dent adherence to the national character in greater
matters. The way of conducting business is quiet
and orderly ; in New York it is a rage, everybody
appears to be running over each other, and the
bustle of its traffic looks at times like a scramble.
The city is not finished, and its people have never
done work ; they are restless and feverish, always
pulling down and building up, pressed for space,
and ready to move Acheron to•obtain it, digging
two storeys below the street, and throwing up six
floors toward Heaven in as many weeks, ruthlessly
demolishing, but restoring with marvellous ra-
pidity. Boston has done with all that ;it has
passed through the cycles of change and renova-
tion New York has yet to fulfil ; having taken its
permanent form, it has only to extend outwardly,
without continually tearing its interior to pieces to
remodel it. It has not the immense commerce of
New York, but, relatively, the arrangements it
• has established for conducting it appear More
complete than those of the metropolis. A more
perfect waterside quarter suffices to prevent the
traffic from running over into- and choking the
thoroughfares ; the streets belong to the public,
while in New York the community is, to a
most inconvenient extent, ignored, and the front-
age sections of the public ways are appro-
priated by somebody as their private premises.
Boston, as it now exists, promises to endure. The
abundance of granite in the State has favoured a
very solid, though rather rough style of building.
Many of the warehouses have a massive rugged ex-
terior ; but they are what they appear to be, not
brick imposed on the world as marble by architec-
tural veneering. There can be no doubt of their
substantiality ; this is indeed the characteristic of
the city, and the tourist disposed to find resem-
blances may note that too as an English quality.
Another feature of Boston that may be even rpore
confidently claimed as a trace of the old county is
the arrangement or non-arrangement of the streets,
which display the true Saxon contempt of plan and
uniformity. They have grown up and extended
according to the caprice of the builders and the ne-
cessary concessions to icdividual property, with a
striking freedom and independence of each other,
which has produced lanes, courts, alleys, nooks,
and no thoroughfares, the duplicates of which may
be found in any old English city. In this respect
Boston is Saxon, New York is Roman, and has
been controlled ever since it began to spread, so
that beyond its original boundaries it is all uniform,
with straight lines and right angles, like the roads
of a town section of the interior. Boston is a la-
byrinth in which you lose yourself, and say, "how
English." The streets, too, are named, not num-
bered, an innovation Boston rejects or cannot
adopt, not having that regular order which must
pre-exist to render the system of numbering pos-
sible. It is a most convenient plan where it can
be adopted ; the only advantage of the old method
is that it compensates for its intricacy by recalling
much of the history of a place, its celebrated names,
and many of its traditions, to all which mere arith-
metic is fatal.