The Sun.
London, England, 1867-05-29 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

NEW NOVELS.

Irene's Repentance. By Christian Eyre, 2 vole.

Hurst and Blackett.

This is a charming little domestic tale, very
simple, and as the title-page tells us " unenriched
with strange events," and yet, as the ssme autho-
rity with equal justice adds, " not unfit for the
fireside or for the summer shade." When we first

meet Irene she is almost a school -girl, and is per-
suaded by her mother, who is starting for India, to
consent to a hasty marriage, which, according to
the proverb, is generally the prelude of a leisurely
repentance. How Irene does repmt, and how,
better still, she wisely repents of her repentance, we
3hall not here relate. Young maidens and young
wives may both learn a lesson from her story, and
the story itself is so natural, aril is so delight-

Lily told, that its perusal will afford pleasure to

many readers. The very disagreeable sisters of the
hero are, we cannot but think, overdrawn. Their
rudeness to their sister-in-law almost amounts to
insolence, and is beyond the bounds of probability.
Mrs. Cunningham, the formidable mother-in-law,
is more natural. This lady is a model
housekeeper, and is delighted to instruct and
victimise the ignorant bride. Some of her
advice, however unpalatable to Irene, is neverthe-
less sufficiently practical and sensible in the main.
" My dear," exclaims the matter-of-fact mother-in.
law, on one occasion, " if you begin to talk of your
spirits at nineteen by the time you are twenty you
will be talking of your nerves. In my old-fashioned
opinion, spirits is only the modern word for what
used to be called tempers, and nerves the polite term
for whims. Our grandmothers never had spirits or
nerves. Take my advice, and when your spirits
are bad turn out a closet, or make a pudding, or dust
your drawing-room, or label your jams. You will
soon forget your spirits. But beware of one thing
—never think to cure them by sal volatile, or cam-
phor julep, or weak brandy and water, or bottled
ale. Nothing is more certain to make them return.
Throw your heart into your duties. Take a pride
in your house, and make your husband's 2omfort
your first thought, and you won't have time for
nerves." Mrs. Cunningham, in other words, recom-
mends that infallible receipt for the " Spleen."
so pregnant with epigrammatic wit and practical
wisdom—" fling but a stone, the giant dies." We
have said enough to assure our fair readers that
they will have no cause to repent an acquaintance
with " Irene's Repentance."

the Loyalist's Daughter. By a Royalist. Four

Vols. Adams and Francis.

A novel in four volumes is a very unusual sight
in the present day; but it is no mere book-making
that has lengthened out this very interesting his-
torical romance. Its composition has evidently
been throughout a labour of love. The author tells
us at the conclusion, with somewhat of an explana-
tory apology, that the story had extended itself
from two volumes into three, and from three into
four, almost imperceptibly, and quite unavoidably
on his part. lie did not write for the sake of pro-
ducing a book, but because he had something to
tell, and so wrapt up were his thoughts in the inte-
rest of his narrative that the manner of the
narrative became forgotten in the matter. Those
who read the tale will not be disposed to criticise its
length. It is full of intense interest throughout.
As an historical work relating to the civil wars in
England in the time of Jamei IL it possesses con-
6iderable value. The intricate mazes of historical
romance are pursued not only with a very remark-
able ingenuity, bat in a spirit of moderation and
justice which cannot but commend itself to readers
of all parties and all opinions. IVe do not propose
to enter into the plot of the story. A few lines of
explanation could not do jusice to a narrative of
four volumes, but we may very heartily commend
the impartial spirit in which the book is written,
ind the very great ability with which the historical
romance h is been constructed.

Constance Rivers. By Lady Barrett Lmnard.

Three Vols. Hurst it,nl Illackett.

Whatever other merits or demerits may be pos-
3CSSed by this' new novel, it may cert'tinly lay claim
to being the fastest, the most dashing, and the most
daring of the fast sensational novels of the day.
With the spirit and the impetus of an express en-
gine the narrative rushes on, but not like an express
engine within a given range ; to quote the title of
another recent novel—it is "Off the Line" through-
out—off
the line of probability and even of possi-
bility--off the line of conventional decorum and
even of moral propriety ! The vivid descriptions of
a soldier's life in the Crimea and in India will, for
the moment, rivet the attention of the reader, but
the wonderful improbability of the tale and the glar-
ing impropriety of some of the scenes and incidents
are such that we cannot predict for " Constance
Rivers " either respect as a work of sentiment or
admiration as a work of art.

~Ilec's Bride. By the author of " St. Olave's."
Three Vols. Hurst and Blackett.
No two books could be more dissimilar than the
story we have just been considering and this tale of
" Alec's Bride." The one was " fast" in the
very fastest possible interpretation of the word, and
the other, although written by the very charming
author of " St. Olave's" and " Janita's Cross," and
other very delightful works, is so quiet and so
unsensational, as almost (as a story) to merit tho
epithet of slow. Like Canning's knife-grinder, of
famous memory, the author of " Alec's Bride" might
well exclaim " Story ! Lord bless me, I have none
to tell." Yet quiet and uneventful as is the tenour
of her way, the history of Alec's Bride is
not wholly devoid of interest and attraction. There
is a pleasure in contemplating such pictures of still
life, when drawn by a hand so skilful and so delicate
in its minute touches as is that of the gifted author
of " St. Olave's. " Very delightful is the portrait of
Miss Phillis Chicory, the good maiden aunt, who
has the care of the somewhat impetuous and self-
willed heroine. Aunt Phillis, we are told " had
long ago learned the wisdom—than which
the very greatest philosopher on earth can
find no greater —of doing the duty which
lay nearest to her, and trusting for light
when that was done to see the next. If every
woman did her duty as faithfully, and trimmed
her little lamp as constantly as Aunt Phillis did,
not murmuring that the duty was so mean or the
limp so tiny, there would be less stumbling in the
world, less crying out for light, fewer complaints
over the darkness and dreariness of the way."

Briars and Thorns. A Novel. By Blanche Marryat
Three Vols. Saunders, Utley, ani Co.

Full of briars and thorns indeed are the path-
ways in this novel. In real life we are fain to be-
lieve that every cloud has a silver lining, that
thorns and roses, briars and blooms, are ordinary
although incongruous companions. Not so, however,
in the histories of the hapless heroines of the tale
before us ; no sunshine enlightens their cloud-land ;
no roses are mingled with their thorns. • Thorns and
briars alone mark the unhappy course laid down for
them by relentless fate and an inexorable authoress.
The only comfort we can experience in the con-
templation of these sufferings, and a poor comfort
it is, is the knowledge that their troubles, in the one
instance at all events, are richly deserved. In the
melancholy chapter entitled " Retribution," in which
a sad catastrophe roLz a mother of her children, we
cannot but remember while she heart-broken
with anguish that the , children's life was a
!natter of more affliction than their death ; for
her forsaken husband is in a distant land, and
the father of these children, her companion in sin
and sorrow, has, for her sake, deserted another wife.
Well may briars and thorns spring up in a foot-
path so selected. The descriptions in this narrative
are some of them full of interest, but the story itself
is singularly unattractive.

Proverbial Philosophy. Third Series. By Martin
F. Tupper. One vol., pp. 311. Moxon.

After thirty years' silence, the Proverbial Philo-
sopher again addresses his friends and admirers.
To them, and their name is legion, these fresh
utterances of wit and wisdom--quaint, and even
at times uncouth, as is their expression--will be