The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1852-08-14

Zs Persons abroad from the city car have the
Dispatch sent to them for any period OF ume tesy
may desire, by leaving their orders and paying 'ne
cash for the time specified.
Two more parts Of the tAmerican) ABB
boisford edition Of The Waverley Novels "o'"
the press of Lippincott, Grambo q Co., nave
been sent us by Messrs. Nash q WOOD
house. The style of the publication is not very
elegant, the wood cuts are wretched' ana Inc
print small, but il is offered at a very moderate
price. and will, no doubt, find many Purcha-
sers. After all, what matters il whether the
typography be good or bad, when we are to
read . novel Of Sir Walters' No writer, it is
.rue, who ever drove quill, better deserves the
honors of luxurious printing than he, but how
little does the reader, who, for the first time
sits with eyes rivetted to the pages of any Wa
verley Novel, heed the appearance of the 70.
lune which delights him
The immense number of editions through
which the Waserley Novels have passed-and
all in space of thirty five years-exceeds
that Of any other series Of volumes in literary
history. We question even if Don Quixote
HAS DCcu muiIpiiCu tiiiO 90 many SoP'No 10 nv
Bride of Lammermoor. And this is, of itself,
a sufficient evidence ofthe transcendent genius
of the author. A work of the most shallow
wit may, indeed, flourish for while, and meet
with larger sale than any of its cotempora-
ries-as for instance that delectable string of
nonsense, known as Proverbial Philosophy
which has been sent over the United States by
hundreds ofthousands, but its day is soon over,
and it falls forever into the limbo of forgotten
things. But when we see all classes OF peo-
Pile, the learned and the iIlierate, the wise and
the simple, the rich and the poor, hanging with
delight over the creations of an author long
after his generation has gone of the stage, we
need no learned critic TO assure us that here is
q man of genius, of whom the record will not
be readily wiped out by the hand of Time.
Sir Walter Scott is such man. In his
wonderful fctions we recognise a perennial
source of intellectual pleasure for all who,
in after ages, will read the English Lam
guage. And not only does the multitude
his editions verify his greatness, but il is shown
in the inexhsustibe material he has worked
painters are to day engaged in depicting
scenes whose only existence was in the brain
of Walter Scott. But for him. therefore,
these men must have been employed in other
and ito us) les pleasing occupations.
The parts Of the new edition which we have
now before as, contain Guy Mannering, the
Black Dwarf and Old Mortality. Guy Man
nering first appeared in 1915, before the enthu-
siasm which greeted the publication of Waiver
ly the year previous had settled down into
quiet admiration. As the work exhibited a
wider range of power than its predecessor, so
did itgreatly heighten the public curiosity to
find out who could have written it. The task
was more difficult one to invest imaginary
characters With absorbing interest than to en-
list sympathy with historical personages al
ready known for high and attractive qualities.
But perhaps in the whole of Scott's works
there is not one in which the characters are
more clearly drawn, and more strikingly con-
trasted, than in Guy Mannering. The authors
every day experience OF life and his obser-
walton oflegal proceedings supplied him doubt.
less with much of the common and vulgar in
cident Ofthe story, but we are lost in admiring
the wonderful skill with which he has avoided
that extreme of the improbable that the use of
such material is so apt to produce.
The Black Dwarf which was published the
year after, has been generally, and we think
properly, considered as one of the least sue
cessful of Sir Walters books. The subject of
the story itself was Deus er naackina, which
SO great writer ought 10 have dsdained to
employ. Nevertheless there are passages in
the work of great power, and the phases Of
border character have been rarely presented
with so much felicity and fidelity, us in Elliott
and Weslburnaat.
As for Old Mortality, we will not attempt, in
these hurried remarks, to say what we think
of such a masterpiece of invention. 1t is a
perfect novel in all respects totus teres atque
rOtundus. For accurate knowledge of the
human heart, for the most exquisite delinea-
lions OF rural lie, and for the tenderest pathos
that ever brought tears to the eye of reader,
it is unsurpassed even by anything its gifted
author subsequently produced.