The Sun.
London, England, 1850-01-12 00:00:00

CHRISTMAS BOOKS

FRIENDS AND FORTUNE : a Moral Tale.
By A. H. Drury.
We class this volume as a Christmas book, because
the incidents which it relates are supposed to have
occurred during some Christmas holidays; and also
because it contains a very beautiful " Song of Christ-
mas ;" but otherwise the story itself is so full of in-
terest, and the manner of the narrative is so exceed-
ingly attractive, that " Friends and Fortune," like
the originals of its title, will be welcome to many all
the year round. Few three-volumed novels are more
interesting than this " Moral Tale." It relates
some very momentous passages in the life of one
Margaret Armadale, a young heiress, very beautiful,
very accomplished, and a little self-willed. The high
spirit of the somewhat haughty damsel is, however,
tempered by a gentle and loving heart. At the opin-
ing of the tale the young heiress, who is an orphan,
and having attained her majority is her own mistress,
has just arrived in England after a long sojourn on
the Continent. She is accompanied by an elderly
companion, 111iss Martin. Margret, accustomed to
continual adu!ation, which she justly attributes, in
part at least, to her great wealth, begins
to wish to be loved for her own sake. She wishes to
prove it' friends and fortune are indeed inseparable.
Having received an invitation to pass Christmas
time with the family cif the Craw fords, old friends of
her father's, the capricious heiress resolves upon
changing places with Miss Martin, and visi-ing the
unknown family, not as the rich Miss Armadale, but
as Miss Armadale's poor attendant. Such is the
foundation of the tale, and the manner in
which it is carried out is marvellously ex•
cellent. Mrs. Crawford pays due court to
the supposed heiress ; the eldest son, a vain fop, makes
love to her, while all the family, excepting two
younger sons, treat their humble companion with
neglect. It is a hard but a useful lesson for Margaret.
Her pride is humbled by continued slights and petty
persecutions ; while, at the same time, her heart is
softened by a close acquaintance with the hitherto
unknown troubles of the poor. The benevolent
rector and his charming daughter Mary are beauti-
fully drawn characters. Alfred Crawford, a shy,
sensitive poet, is also sketched with a graceful and
accurate hand. Theodosia Crawford, a vain and
very malicious young lady, jealous of the superior
attractions of the poor Esther (Margaret's feigned
name), seeks on every occasion to annoy her. At
last Esther is discovered signing a cheque with the
name of " Margaret Armadale. What a triumph
for Theodosia! The heads of the family are out, and
so the supposed criminal is locked up, awaiting their
return, while Alfred rushes off on horseback to hasten
them. The denouement is very dramatic :
" The hail was filled with servants, among whom were
Nisbett and Antoine; the former with red eyes, nose,
and checks, boiling with indignation ; the latter, in a
state of irrepressible glee, for in every stroke aimed at
his mistress, he saw an acceleration of the denouement he
panted for. When the dining-room door was opened,
the general excitement overcame conventional forms, and
ono and all made their way in. All eyes turned on
Margaret, who as she passed through the door, seemed
to leave behind her every sensation of languor and de-
pression. Sho withdrew her hand from Nelson's arm,
and advanced towards the table, her stately figure erect,
and her downcast eyes gleaming with light. Mr. Craw-
ford, seated in his chair of judgment at the head of the
table, looked at her over his spectacles, and hemmed two
or three times. am grieved, young lady,' he began,
to have so unpleasant a duty to perform, but I under-
stand you appealed to me, and I need not say you shall
have the fairest treatment, and every indulgence we can
allow you.'
" Margaret bowed, and stole one look at Miss Martin
under her eyelashes, to prepare that lady for what was
to follow.
" Theodosia now stated her case, and related what our
readers already know— her previous suspicions, the steps
she had deemed it right for all their sakes to take, and
the manner in which she had convicted her in the act;
adding a few remarks on the terror Margaret exhibited
on her arrest. At this Miss Armadale looked at her,
and again with that cold dark smile that had perplexed
ber before. She turned to her associates, and Shipton
and Katy bore witness, each in her owe peculiai style,
and a groan ran through the audience. Mrs. Crawford
looked at Miss Martin with uplifted hands, and mur-
mured. What will the world come to?'
" Is this all true, Miss Esther?' said Mr. Crawford.
There was a pause.
Very nearly true, sir,' said Margaret.
" Very nearly? were the circumstances as they have
been stated?'
" Yes, sir—the circumstances certainly were.'
" And this cheque,' said the judge gravely, consider
what you are saying—did you fill it up, and subscribe it
Margaret Armadale?'
" I did, sir.'
" ' With the intention of getting it passed?'
" Yes, sir.'
"Everybody looked aghast : Theodesis glanced tri-
umphantly at Nelson, who bit his lip: Katy muttered,
Oh ! then she's a natural innocent, to go confissing
like that!'
" Attendez un pee,' said Antoine.
" Silence there!' cried Mr. Crawford, hastily. his
face aas purple with agitation, and with some difficulty
he addressed himself again to Margaret.
"' This is very dreadful, young lady, but I am glad,
if you are guilty, that you do not deny it. It makes one
hope you are young in fraud, and I trust this may be the
first and last time such a thing may occur. And now
the best thing you can do, to induce Miss Armadale to
forgive you, will be to confess without reserve the mo.
fives that led to this gross act of—l must give it its
right name—felony. Let me advise you as a friend, to
speak the truth, without seservation and without fear.'
I will, sir,' said Margaret, in the same calm,
dignified tone in which she had first spoken, it is now
time that the whole truth should be heard. The zeal of
these ladies has only hastened by a day or two the con-
fession I had purposed to make. I did read those letters
—I did open that writing case—l did write that cheque .
—for the letters, and the writing case, and the cheque.
book are mine—and I am Margaret Armadale
" If an electric battery had been discharged into the
assembly, it could not have produced a more instan-
taneous shock. Her look—her voice—her erect and
stately bearing—the calm acquiescence of her comps.
nion—all carried complete conviction to every bosom that
she spoke the truth: but what was the effect of such a
conviction it would be difficult to describe. Before any
one had found breath to do more than gasp, Margaret
addressed her bewildered hostess, ' Yes, Mrs. Crawford!
it is I whom you invited to your house, and who have
presumed upon your goodness by entering it in disguise.
I dare hardly hope you will pardon me, for I feel I do
not deserve it: the only palliation I can offer for my
conduct is the forlorn position in which I am placed.
It is so precious to be loved for your own take: so bitter
to see your possessions preferred! I have been a spoiled
child all my life, and having been in the habit of indu'g •
Mg every whim, I did not hesitate in this, my earnest
wish to know you without being known. lam sensible
now of my fault: I had no right to wrong your hospi.
taliry: and if you turn me now from your door in dis-
grace, I can but say, I have my desert. Still, when I
tell you that during this period of disguise, I have
learned more than in my whole life of prosperity, that
scenes, and duties, and characters have even laid before
me, which otherwise might have been ever concealed: that
it has been the turning point in my moral existence, and
that to my dying day I may have occasion to bless the
events that led me to your fireside, I venture to hope
you and Mr. Crawford will not refuse the forgiveness,
which I moat sincerely ask for the sake of your old
friend.'

Mortified heartstricken, overwhelmed with amaze-
ment and vexation, poor Mrs. Crawford looked in her
lace, and attempted to make some reply, but the words
died on her lips, while a crowd of intolerable thoughts
rushed through her brain. Truo to her maternal sym
patbies, the first of these was Ferdinand: she dared not
turn her eyes to him: she could not, in tact, tnce any-
body—she had never felt quite so annoyed in all her
life, and after a brief struggle for composure, her morti-
fication overcame her self-command, and throwing her-
self into a chair, she burst into tears. Mr. Crawford,
petrified at first, now sprung up from his seat and seiz-
ing M-agaret by both hands, assured her of his hearty
forgiveness by as hearty a kiss. . .
" Ferdinand waited to hear no more; he struck his
forehead with both bands, rushed out of the room, half
beside himself wi!h fury, and coming violently into con-
tact with somebody in the hull, nearly knocked him over.
It was Alfred, deadly pale, and covered with blood. He
clung to his brother's arm. ' What has been going on?
she is innocent! tell me she is innocent!'
" Innocent?' cried the exasperated fortune-bunter
innocent ? a vile—beggarly impostor!'
" Alfred let go his arm, and staggered to the parlour,
where at the sight of his ghastly appearance, every one
uttered a cry of alarm. He rushed to the centre of the
group, and seizing his mother's arm, sobbed convulsively
for breath.

Alfred! dear Alfred! comr 050 yoursell r said Mrs.
Crawford soothingly, it is laid his hand on
her mouth, and by a violent ( ffort, regained his ♦oice.
Not a word, mother! not a word!—you have been pre-
judiced: you are all blinded—you cannot see goodness
without gold, or beauty without ornaments—you are
blind—deaf—stony of heart—or you would love her as
I do!'

" His manner was so vehement, his voioe so heart-
rending, no one could find a tongue to interrupt him;
and if they had attempted it, he would not have listened.
"' I ought not to speak like this, I know: reverence
for her modesty ought to seal my tongue; I meant—l
r( solved that it should be sealed, until I found a fitter
time and Lilac.: but you have driven me to de,peration:
and now I declare before you all, if deceived by the evi-
dence of enemies, who have laid, I know it, this pit-fall
for her feet, you drive her from your society, and cast
her from your friendship, you cast away a son too!
Her lot shall be mine: her path shall be mine! I will
work—l will slave for her maintenance—l will plead
Lefore earth and Heaven her integrity: till at length a
day may come when she may at last confess, there is a
heart that can love her; in spite of poverty—and in
spite of shame!' He turned to Margaret, who covered
her face with her bands.
" Yes, Et ther—l love you !—I loved you from the
first moment we met, when you were left neglected
among the servants in my th( r's hospitable hall! I
loved you more and more as the days went on;—your
face haunted my dreams—.3.mur voice was my sweetest
music: I saw you bearing insult with patience, and
neglect with good humour:
.helping the friendless,
comforting the orphan, striving in every shape to be a
dispenser of blessing to others, at the time that your
own cup was fu 1 of bitterness, and your prospect dim

with poverty! Let them say, prove, swear, what they
will! I believe you from my soul to be innecent, and it
life and strength are granted me, I will mtActi your in-
nocence plain! Oh forgive all I have said: forgive my
abruptness, madness, inconsideration: I am well nigh
mad, I know—but there is no madness in my love, what-
ever there way be in my words!'
"`There is plenty in them, sir!' now brake in his
father, who had been rubbing his bands nervously
during all this scene—' mad?' yes, to be sure you are!
stark mad—that you go on raving there, and won't hear
any one speak. Do you know, sir, who and what this
young lady is, you have been addressing so passion-
ately ?'
" Yes, sir, I do know—and whatever'—
" Hold your tongue, sir, will you? you know nothing
at all about it. Why, boy, who should it be but Miss
Armadale herself, the real Miss Armadale, who, to play
us an unfair trick, passed off her friend as herself, and
came among us as the poor Esther!'
"For an instant Alfred grew paler than before: then
the colour rushed to his temples: ho made a vain at-
tempt to speak; turned to leave the room, and fell sense-
less to the ground.
" Margaret's woman nature *could not stand this:
pride, reserve and prudence would not suffer her to
spe.:k: but she sprung to his assistance before even his
mother could reach him, and thick and fast fell her
tears upon his face. The world might wonder—‘rienels
might disapprove—relations might mt.ke themselves
disagreeable: it mattered little now, for her high heart
was won!"
The interest is well sustained throughout the volume,
and the lights and shadows of the various characters
contrast admirably with each other. The love-story
of the gentle Mary and Nelson Crawford is second
in interest only to the fortunes of Margaret. Thyoed
these attractive features, the tone of the whole book
is of a pure and elevating character—it is a volume
that wise friends would gladly put in the hands of
youth, for it pourtrays religion and virtue in their
appropriately attractive colours. " The Sang of
Christmas" is an improvisation of the poet Alfred.
Its tone is most eloquent, and its teaching full of
beauty :
" ' Children of the earth—young and old--listen to
the song of Christmas!
" 'I am come among you again; with my fresh keen
blast, and my holly-bough, and the snow crackling
beneath my feet, and the hoar-frost dripping from my
hair:—and I see around me again the sight I love to
see—the bounding step, and the merry laugh, aid the
warm-pressing hand—and the lip that quivers with
remembered blessing: and the heart that glows with
good deeds done, kept there for God alone. I see the
blazing log, and the plentiful board, and the throng of
friendly faces: I hear my name echoed as a watchword
of rejoicing, and I feel that lam loved as ever. And is
this all?
"' Children of the earth—revellers at the feast—
listen to the song of Christmas!
" Was it only for this that I came among you first?
—only to crown your banquets with jubilee? Was it
that Ste yule log might burn, and the wassail-bowl might
foam, and the table be crowned with plenty—that they
who feasted all the year round should feast still higher
today? Is there nothing nobler in my cheering voice
—nothing holier in my song of joy—than the mirth
that blazes for an hour, or the dissipation that will
weary you to-morrow? Children of the earth—triflers
with reality—listen to the song of Christmas!
" When I came among you first, ye were a sorrowing
race :—the winter came and went again, but brought no
blessing with it—the sun looked down upon you with
pity, but kindled you not to praise—ye had no Saviour
—ye knew no God t I broke this chain of darkness—l
let in this glorious light—l said to the Eastern shep-
herds, Rejoice!—to the wise men, Your King is waiting!
I brought on the wings of my glorious message the
blessings of the Father of spirits, and shed them like
dew upon your path, that ye might be glad in the joy
of your salvation. I shed peace on your consciences—
comfort in your tribulations—light on the way wherein
ye should walk—hope on the bed wherein ye must die—
all this I did—yea, and greater than this, when I told
you your Saviour was born!
"'Children of the earth—ransomed of the Cross!
listen to the song of Christmas !
" The wilderness and the solitary place are glad be-
cause of me; the desert has rejoiced, and blossomed as
the rose:—fruit has sprung up in the waste places of the
earth, and well-springs from the rock and stone! There
has gone forth a voice like an angel's trump, from
which sorrow and mourning flee away, and every note
of its thrilling melody repeats the Redeemer's name!
Well then may ye rejoice, for whom that name was
given; fill up your cup with gladness—pour forth your
voices in song—the utmost ye can give will fall short of
the due amount, of the gratitude and praise He has
deserved at your hands. Be glad, ye children of Z:on,
and rejoice in the Lord your God—be has clowned the
year with goodness—He has glorified the earth with
deliverance: if ye should rejoice in the Lord elway,
above all should ye do so now; only take heed that ye
rejoice aright—that Christmas drown not the nan:e of
Christ: that in the joy of the Saviour's birth, ye neg'ect
not His great salvation!
Children of the earth, probatioters for eternity:
listen to the song et Christmas!
" Shall the children of the bride chamber feast, only
when the Bridegroom is not with them? shall the sons
of the heavenly inhe:itanee shrink from their natice
air? Shad the Prince's birthday he kept us an universal
jubih e, and rte Prince Himself be banish° I from the
gladness his birth has given? Will ye fill the bowl
with merriment, and heap the board with hospitality,
d in your eager gathering of the earthly leas esings,
he fallen leaves of the Tree of Li'e, gii on index 1 for
the healing of the nations, but not suffie her their
immortal sustenance,—pass over the fruit of holii e,s
and grace, as though no tears had been shed, to blocd
teen pourel, to gLeneh the flaming sword of the
Cherubim?

" • Children of the earth, exiles from Eden's bowerv,
isten to the song of Christmas!

" Is it such st—least that I have chosen: a day for a
WWI to forget his soul? is it to choke up his gratitude
with sell-indulget.ce, and to shackle his religion with
worldly bonds? Wilt thou call this a feast, and an ac-
ceptable day unto the 1.,,rd? Is nut this the feast that I
have chosen—to bre ,k off the yoke of sin; to crush the
head of evil habits; to lay up comfort against the evil
hour, and gather blessing and gladness that fade not
away ? To give with both hands liberally; to love with
the whole heart fervently ; to press onward, onward
still, in the pathway of joyful obedience, bringing heart
and soul and at, ength and intellect as offerings to the
Bridegroom's table; and drinking here on earth of the
cup of felicity, that shall crown the marriage supper of
the Lamb? . • . . . • • • •
" Children of the earth, wild olives of the Gentile :
listen to the song of Christmas!
"' Yes, there are hearts that love Him, and find their
joy in His favour: a joy whe.ewith no stranger in.er-
meddleth, and which nu stranger can understand. Who
ale they that wake the Nativity morning with the
loudest and sweetest carols: that fill the Lord's courts
with Learning faces, and bring ri e brightest smile and
the happiest laugh for the meeting of affection at home?
Who but they to whom my annual return is a
pledge of their purchased :ecurity, and who fee:
as each year glides away b neath my wing, that
they are only so much nearer to heaven? Who but
they that go from house to house, where the poor
man is too desolate to smile; lighting up the empty
hearth and covering the starving board, and giving the
naked clothing, and finding the destitute a home: that
every suffering member of the great redeemed family
may be glad on the birthday of their Brother? Yes, to
you I turn, ye sowers and reapers of mercy : sour mirth
shall nut turn to heaviness, nor your sacrifice be counted
a mockery; for the joy of the Lord is your shield and
,trength, and the God of the poor man is a guest at your
feast of love!

" Children of the earth, hells of immortality: listen
o the song of Chrnitroair "

ACTING CHARADES. By theßrothers Mayhew.
It is difficult with pen and ink to describe these
" Acting Charades ; or Deeds not Nerds." The
manner in which the " deeds " are set forth by the
pencil of Mr. Hine, requires to be seen, rather than
to be described. As an explanation of "Charades in
Action," we quote from the introduction :
" The French have made themselves singularly famous
by their 'petits jeux' as they call them. 'Their inability
to sit still tor more than halt an hour has forced them to

invent a long list of amusing excuses for locomotion.
They have their ' Pigeon Vole,' and Main Chaude' or
Berlingue and Chiquette,' and a thousand other receipts
for making a long evening short.
"But the most celebrated of all these petits jeux ire
their Charades en Action.' Pigeon Vole, and all the
rest, have given way to these Acting Charades. No
birth-day is allowed to pass without playing at them.
The young and the old both delight in the game; and
invariably choose it. The old people lay aside their
dignity with a look of jovial martyrdom, and laugh
more than any one else; whilst—as if to apologise for
their apparently unbecoming levity—they tell you they
do like to see young people enjoying themselves.'
" Some persons have even acquired a kind of reputa-
tion as Charade actors, and are in such request that in-
' vitatious shower down from all quarters; and if they
can only be engaged, it is looked upon as a kind of cer-
tificate that the party is sure to be a good one.
"Lately, the game has been introduced into the draw-
ing-rooms of a few mirth-loving Englishmen. Its suc-
cess has been tremendous. Cards have been discarded;
and la!ind-man's-buff, forfeits, and bunting the ring been
utterly abandoned. On Christmas-day, it has been
looked forward to, and entered into with as much energy
as the sainted plum-pudding itself. We have seen it
played among literary circles with unbounded mirth.
We have seer philosophers and poets either acting their
parts with all the enthusiasm of school-boys, or puzzling
their brains to find out how they could dress as
Henry VIII., with only a great coat and a gibus.'
" This game is, as its name expresses it, a Charade
acted instead of spoken. The two most celebrated per-
formers of the party chore their sides,' and, whilst the
one group enacts the charade, the other plays the part
of audit nee. A word is then fixed upon by the corps
dramatigue; and my first, my second, and my whole'
is gone through as puzzlingly as possible in dumb
show, each division making a separate and entire act.
At the conclusion of the drama, the guessing begins on
the Rat of the audience. If they are successful, they in
their turn perform: if not, they still remain as audience.
" The great rule to be observed in acting charade, is—
silence. Nothing more than an exclamation is allowed.
All tho rest mus: be dune in the purest pontomitne.
"If in the working out of the plot there should be
some sentence that it is impossible to express in dumb
show, and yet must be made clear to the audience, then,
placards may be used. As Hamlet says, they must
spf ak by the card.'"
And as a specimen of the style of these " Charade.,"
let us give the first (very imperfectly, however, as