Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1859-03-18
Book Notices.

"THE New PRIEST IN CONCEPTION Bar
Phillips. Sampson & Co., 2 vols.
This work has been upon our table for
some weeks, but until recently we have not
had time to read 1t.
The scene of the story is upon the desolate
and cherries Island of Newfoundland. The
plot of the novel is simple and natural turning
almost wholly upon the spriting away of a
young girl by Jesuitical Priest. It's char
acters are, tor the most part. among the ig-
norant and uncultiyated fishermen of the
Island. A more uninviting field for the
novelist could hardly have been selected; and
yet the author has made a most agreeable
and readable book.
With poets fancy he has touched things
common and lowly, and identifying them,
has presented pictures fresh, bright and
glowing to the minds Of his readers.
His deincations of character are truthful
and life like, but we think that it is in his
descriptive writing that he most excels.-
Take the following as an example:
These little waves have crossed the ocean,
tumbllng like porpoises at play, and taking
on a savage nature in the GREAT Wilderness,
have Numbered in close ranks and countless
numbers. against mans floating fortress;
have stormed the breach and climbed up over
the walls in the ships riven side; have fol-
lowed, bowling and hungry as mad wolves.
the crowded RAFT; have leapcd upon it,snatch
ing off, one by one, the weary. worn-out
men and women; have taken up and borne
aloft as if on hands and sh Dulders-the one
chance human body that is brought into
land. and the long spar, from which mans
dangling cordage wastes, by degrees, and
yields its place To long. green steamers much
like those that chung to this tall. taper tree,
when it stood in the northern forest.
after u sickness has been finished in a
death, and after the burial is done, those
who are left miss very much the round OF
duties that is SO utterly at an end. They
start at tancicd calls, they find themselves
putting their hands to things no longer
needed; they lower the voice. they listen
sometimes, and then recollect tina: there is
no one now whose isht sleep may be broken
or whose throbbing head may thrill at a
slight sound. there is none now whose breath
in- may give token of rest from pain. or
whose liant words can scarcely wing flight
in the still air.
And then the thought Of earlier hours ,anf
happier comes up, when the departed one
had the same home and the same hous hold
thiag> with them, and shared their jews AMI
soIrJws Now it is not ~. One form
whose head has lain upon our bosom. whpsr
hair our fingers played with whose eyclids
We have kissed, who's lips have found our
checks. whose arms have held US, whose
hands have done 50 many pretty things OF
played us such sweet tricSs If mcrrheod -
whose look. whose laugh. whose sleep. whose
waking, had each snch beauty Of its own
has gone like morning mist melted in air,
like the blue cloud OF sinnk, scattered torcy-
er, like the word spjkeA, like the bubble
broken
The morbid taste and ,i,iatei cravings Of
the nd.scriminate novel reader will be littlr
satisfied with this fiction. but tn, cultivated
and refined will find in it beanty and excl
/ nee. And tosIch We caecr;uily commend
ii as richly worthy their pora>,l.