The Sun.
London, England, 1861-09-06 00:00:00

Bentley's Miscellany.

" The Population and Trade in France," by
Frederick Marshall, i 3 continued, and chapter six
treats of the coal trade. Mr. Marshall enters into
full detail on this subject as he has hitherto done on
other subjects. This series of interesting papers,
when completed, will form a valuable book of
reference on French statistics. The Biographies of
Madame de Krudener, who figured at the end of the
last, and the beginning of the present century, and
of Chevalier Bunsen are well written, 9nd
many curious incidents in the lives of these in
dividuals celebrated in such opposite spheres,
" American Young Ladyism," by J. G. Kohl
is an amusing sketch of the Ladies of America
but we do not consider that :Mr. Khol has done
justice to the transatlantic beauties. He purports
to give a sketch of their character, but only fur-
nishes the dark side of the picture. There is no
denying that the women in the United States do
not hold the same social position that an English
woman does, notwithstanding that they are held in
such high consideration, and allowed priority in all
things. It is not natural that a man can have the
same respect for a wife who spends her life in a
rocking chair at an hotel, as for ope who attends to
her household duties. At the same time there are
many points in the American character deserving of
commendation. Dudley Costello furnishes us with
unquestionably the best contribution we have yet
had of " The Adventures of Lorn Loriot." Poor
Smudge proves to be Lorn's best friend, and her
character comes out in striking relief against the
mercena!y and swindling individuals who surround
her. Having found Lorn in the House of De-
tention, she goes to his late employer, Mr. Squirl,
the pawnbroker, and seeks his aid; and he having
promised his assistance, the following dialogue
takes place
I'm so glad," she said, " to hear you say so, Mr.
Squirl ; for he's low, very low, I'm sure, at nobody dont'
nothink for him, and all the time he's as hinnercent as thel
babe unborn. I think it a great shame that pleecemen s
words, and such as them, should be taken afore otherses,
when it's what they're paid for to find the real bad 'uus out
as goes about contrivin' and layin' traps for 'onest folks to
fall into."
Though somewhat circuitously expressed, Mr. Squirl
saw that Smudge's thoughts pointed in the direction his
own had taken,
" You won't mind," he asked, " saying what yort
know
about this here Count to a lawyer, or in a court of justice,
if necessary p"
" Mind !" returned Smudge. " I shall only be glad to!"
4, I'll take you, then," said Mr. Squirl, 6' to
a friend of
mine—an attorney, who does a good deal of business in this
line—and we'll be ready for 'ern when the oaeo owes oil

•
again. It will cost something, though, to pay him for his
trouble."
" How much ?" inquired Smudge.
" A matter of five pound, perhaps."
Smudge's countenance fell. Her worldly wealth was
not a third of that sum, but had it been double the amount
she would have freely given it.
" Here's all I have got I" she said, taking out a steel
purse, and emptying the contents on the counter. " He's
welcome to this if he can get Lorn out of prison."
Mr. Squirl was not often the slave of attendrissement,
but there were moments in his life, and this was one of
them, when he yielded to the melting mood. hough un-
acquainted with the Latin poet, he sometimes acknowledged
that he was a man.
" No, no, miss," said he, with real respect; " put up
your money. We shan't have no call for that, anyhow.
There's them as can afford it better."

There was feeling in this speech, though, after all, no
very great merit in the declaration, for Mr. Squirl was
already on velvet, and well knew that anymoney he wanted
would be forthcoming if required. Still it was something
for a pawnbroker to restrain his hand from contact with
coin ; something for such a pawnbroker as Mr. Squirl to
pay even a modified tribute to generosity in the person of
a penniless servant-girl.

"Look after the shop, Cramp," said Mr. Squirl, putting
on his hat. " Come, my dear, we've no time to lose."
So saying, he offered Smudge his arm, and they went out
together.
Mr. Cramp never opened his lips till they had been gone
at least five minutes, but stood in an attitude of deep re-
flection. At last he gave utterance to his thoughts in
phrase brief but expressive :
" Blest I" he said, " if she ain't a nice 'un I"
6' Ouida" furnishes, as usual, one of his high-life
stories, entitled, "A Double-down Leaf in a Man's
Life ;" and "The Constable of the Tower" (which
we will notice hereafter at length) is concluded,
and concludes the magazine.

The Corniiill Magazine.
Philip's independence of spirit is rendering him
uncourteous and at times unbearable. He himself
asks Pendennis, " As for me, haven't you remarked
that since I have not a guinea in the world, I
swagger and am a much greater swell than be-
fore?"—" And the truth is," adds his biographer,
" that a Prince Royal could not have called for
his glass with a more magnificent air than Mr.
Philip, when he summoned the waiter and paid
for his petit verre." Little Charlotte suffers, too,
from the jealousy and arrogance of her lover.
" Such sentiments as Mr. Philip felt strongly, he
expressed with an uproar." We cannot say
that Philip Firmin, with many good qualities to
admire, improves upon acquaintance. The same
remark might apply to the narrative of his adven-
tures. Pleasant as it is to hear Mr. Thackeray
discourse, and full of truth (not always plea-
sant) as are his discourses, he suffers himself
at times to fall into a rambling style, repeating
himself, and recounting twice told tales. Like
the king of old, too often he "fights all his
battles o'er again, and thrice he slays the slain."
Admiring Mr. Thackeray so genuinely as we do,
we are the more disappointed when we see him
thus frittering away his powers—powers so well
qualified to charm, and instruct, and elevate. In the
present instalment the writer turns away (as is his
wont) from the current of his story to describe the
character and difficulties of Madame Smolensk, the
lady of the Boarding-house in Paris, where General
Baynes and his fatally are staying. So well is this
done that we almost pardon the digression; e.g., here
is a picture of the hostess :