The Sun.
London, England, 1842-02-01 00:00:00

AINS WORTH'S MAGAZINE.

So far as we can form a judgment from a first
Number, this Magazine promises well, and
we are the more inclined to augur favour-
ably of it, from the singular circumstance
of the Editor indulging in no lavish pro-
fessions in his " Preliminary Address." He is,
in truth, modest and reserved to a degree very
unusual in the editorial character, winch is cer-
tainly by no means remarkable for any uneasy
and oppressive sense of bashfulness. He hints,
however, that he may possibly at times be meta-
physical—that is to say, " as occasion serves, he
may institute bold and original inquiries into the
great ends for which books were written, and into
the mind which they feed and fashion." Now there
is no earthly use in instituting metaphysical in-
quiries into a question of this sort, for it is an-
swered and explained in a word. Books, what-
ever might have been the case formerly, are now
written for no other purpose than to ensure the
writer a handsome sum from his publisher. As
for " feeding and fashioning" the reader's mind,
they are—with a few exceptions—intended only
to enable him to pass away an hour or two that
might otherwise hang heavily on his hands. The
majority of us no longer read to be instructed,
but to be amused; and a periodical, to be suc-
cessful, must deal almost exclusively in matters
of entertainment. With these few preliminary
remarks, we pass to a consideration of the Maga-
zine before us. It opens with a tale entitled the
" Miser's Daughter," which is from the pen of
the Editor. The incidents of the narrative are
supposed to have occurred towards the close of
the last century, and they are entered on at once
without any formal note of preparation being
sounded. The sketch of the Miser's house, or
rather den, is marked by many of Mr. Ains-
worth's minute, graphic touches, which give the
force of reality to his narratives—in fact, are their
redeeming excellence, for, generally speaking,
lie is not happy in his attempts at discriminating
character. Yet we must confess that Jacob Post
bids fair to be an exception; and we suspect that
pretty, plump, little Thomasine, the mercer's
daughter will become a favourite with novel
readers. " A Flight upon Flying," is a fanciful,
rambling prose essay " upon everything and no-
thing," by Mr. Martin. Tupper, who exhibits no
mean powers of thought, though he is apt occa-
sionally to be vague and crotchety in his ideas.
As there is nothing, new on earth—lie should
have made a reservation in favour of new taxes,
with which we are threatened—he tells us that
he will take a flight into the air; and at the
word, he is off among the clouds, where he dreams
and speculates in a manner very suitable to his
locality. " Sultan Stork" is a lively Eastern
story, of a bustling and comic character, and
concerns the fortunes of a Persian King and his
Premier, who, from some neglect of duty, were
transformed into storks, and compelled to hop
through life on one leg in a truly grotesque
fashion. The metamorphosis of a Prime Minister
into an ass or a rat is nothing remarkable; modern
English history abounds in instances of such
transformations; but the present ingenious me-
tamorphosis is new to us. The " Snow Storm" is
a simple, well-narrated domestic story by the
author of " Ferrers." The " Tour of Love and
Time" is art elegant little poetic allegory ; and
the lines to an "Andalusian Beauty" contain
some graceful thoughts and images neatly and
pointedly expressed. A word now on Cruik-
shank's Illustrations. The serious ones have
much less stiffness than is usual with him, and
there is both vigour and character in the sketch
of the old Miser—especially in his earnest atti-
tude of inquiry. " Rosamond's Pond," too, is a
pleasing picture, not wanting in picturesque effect.
The grouping of various figures in the Mall ar-
rest attention by their ease and propriety. But
the three dancing •Storks is our favourite illus-
tration. With what a coquettish, languishing
air the female stork eyes her partner in the waltz !
And how vigorously he pirouettes oil his left
foot, by way of showing off before his feathered
sweetheart ! By way of quotation we select a
passage from the " Miser's Daughter" descriptive
of a fashionable pedestrian lounger in St. James's
Park, in the year 1774 :
Having passed through the Gate House, they entered
the Park by a small door at the end of Prince's-court.
It was now noon, and a warm and genial day. The paths
between the avenues of trees then extending between
this point and Rosamond's Pond were crowded with per-
sons of both sex, and of all ranks, summoned forth by the
fineness of the weather.

Randulph was greatly amused by all he saw, and gazed
with much curiosity at all presented to his view. Pass-
. ing by the Decoy, the party skirted the great canal, and,
leaving Rosamond's Pond on the left, proceeded towards
Buckingham House.
Just at this juncture, Uncle Trussell caught sight of a
gay party approaching, and exclaimed, in a joyful tone,
to his nephew, " As I live, we are most fortunate. There
is the leader of the fashion, Beau Villiers, coming to-
, wards us. You shall know him, nephew—you shall know
him. The ladies he is walking with are Lady Brabazon
and the Hon. Clementina Brabazon : a fine girl, Clemen-
tina---a remarkably fine girl; perfect in style and man •
ners—quite a toast among the sparks. The old fellow at
her side, Sir Singleton Spinke, was a great beau in his
time, though never equal to Villiers, who far surpasses
even his prototype, Beau Fielding, in style and taste.
You shall know them all."
" And nice acquaintances you will make," remarked
Uncle Abel, sneeringly.
" Never mind him, Randulph," whispered Uncle Trus-
sell. "If you know this set, and they like you, you may
know whom you please. Beau Villiers commands all
society, from the highest down to—to"
" Mr. Trussell Beechcroft," replied Uncle AbeL
" Well, down to me if you please," rejoined Uncle
Trussell, "and that shows it does not extend too low.
But, Randulph, J beg you to look at the beau. Did you
ever see a finer matt?',
" He is very handsowlet certainly," replied Randulph,
" and remarkably well dreS,sed.”
"He is a great coxcomb, a jreat rake, and a great
gamester, Randulph," said Uncle " beware of him."
" Tush, never mind what he sap rejoined Uncle
Trussell, who really wished to have the ,-clat of intro-
ducing his handsome nephew to the great be, " Come
along!"
So saying, he took his nephew's arm, and hurriCd him
forward. Pushing their way through the throng, sr hen
near the sentry box opposite Buckingham House, the.,"
encountered the party m question. Beau- Villiers, who
was, indeed, a remarkably handsome mans and dressed
in the extremity of the mode, wore a light-blue embossed
velvet coat, embroidered with silver, with broad cuffs
similarly ornamented; 2 white waistcoat, of the richest
silk, likewise laced with silver; tawny velvet breeches,
partly covered with pearl-coloured silk hose, drawn
above the knee,.and secured with silver garters. His
dress was completed by shoes of black Spanish leather,
fastened by large diamond buckles, and a superb Ra-
inillie of the lightest flaxen hair, which sot off
his brilliant' complexion, and fine eyes, to admiration.
He carried a three-cornered hat, fringed with feathers,
and a clouded cane, mounted with a valuable pebble.
Near the beau walked Lady Brabazon, a gorgeous dame
of about five-and-forty, and still possessed of great per-
sonal attractions, which she omitted no means ofdisplaying.
She wore a hoop, and a white and silver satin sack. Struck
by,Randulph's figure at a distance, she had pointed him
out, to the beau, who thereupon vouchsafed to look to-
wards him. Behind Lady Brabazon came her daughter
Clementina, a very pretty and very affected blonde of
two and twenty, with an excessively delicate complexion,
fair hair, summer blue eyes, and a very mincing gait.
She was exquisitely dressed in the last new mode, with
a small escaloped lace cap, her hair curled at her sides,
a triple row of pearls round her neck, and a diamond
cross attached to the chain; and though she pretended to
be interested in the discourse of the old Knight, it was
evident her regards were attracted by the handsome
young stranger. As to the old beau, he was, indeed,
supremely ridiculous. He was attired in a richly em-
broidered cinnamon-coloured velvetcoat, with fur cuffs of
preposterous size, each as large as a modern muff. His
pantaloon legs were covered with pink silk hose; his
wrinked features were rouged and bepatched; and his
wig was tied with a large bow, and had such an immense
cue to it, that it looked as if a great dragon fly had
perched on the back of his neck. Lady Brabazon was
attended by a little black page, in a turban and eastern
dress, who had charge of her favourite lap-dog.