The Press. — 1857-11-14 (London, England)

" You don't know what you are talking of," observed Brian sententiously; " when I go out 1 shall buy a lot of land, and take out a lot of good stout labourers and a useful wife." Here Rupert burst out laughing, and Brian looked injured and contemptuous, ti 1 the family sense of fun overcoming his resentment, he could not help joining in the laugh, • • • •  Work and talk proceeded merrily ; Henrietta singing scraps of songs between times, Keene taking them up fur a bar or two as she dropped them, while the notes of the canary made themselves audible above all. " Dora, I shall certainly exterminate that pet of yours some day," said Keene," where is he now ? Oh, judiciously perched on a picture-frame precisely his own colour. I saw you trying to make out where the row came from, Charles."  " Row !" said Dora, "poor dear Blonde] !" "Poor dear how much?'' inquired Charles. " Blonde]," said Keene ; " that you must know is the name of Dora's fat minstrel up there." "Henrietta would he an invaluable cage bird," said Charles," she would sing all the year round. I heard her all this morning, over her drawing." " Did I ? I forget." " A true bill," said Keene.; " you don't always know when you do it." " I like your saying anything about it, Mr. Keene !" said Henrietta.  " What were you singing this morning ?" asked Charles. " I don't know—ull manner of scraps. What did you think it was ?"  " Well," said Charles, laughing too, " I acknowledge to having no more ear than a post. I don't think I should know the National Anthem when I hear it, if people did not take their hats off." Rupert began on this hint to whistle it, and Keene taking up a second, it really sounded so pretty that all, including Charles, exclaimed in admiration. " You should hear Keene and Henrietta sing," said Dora, " you never hare yet." "It ought to be Shining River,' " said Alice, looking at the view visible from the windows, " do, Keene."  "Well, Henrietta," said Keene, an•l very sweetly did the brother and sister sing the little duet.  3. " Riverston " is one of a class of stories which have lately been written with peculiar success. It is the autobiography of a governess. But " Riverston," though not without much original merit, is far too close an imitation of "Jane Eyre" to deserve unTialifieo commendation. There is a wide difference between a disciple and a plagiarist. " Anne Sherwood," for instance, is one of that school of which Miss Brontë may be said to have been Ithe founder; but the story is perfectly independent. We cannot say the same of " Riverston " The courtship of the heroine and Uncle Gilbert follows so closely i:i the wake of Jane and Mr. Rochester as to transcend those limits which divide from appropriation For those readers who can forget that "Jane Eyre " was ever written, " Riverston" will probably be a very entertaining story. The plot, indeed, is meagre, but the narrative never flags, and the incidents are striking and diversified; among them may be mentioned suicide, seduction, and duelling. The matrimonial fortunes of the two Miss Wynters, the elder sisters of Miss Haig's pupil, and those of Miss Haig herself, form the staple of the story. One is a desperate girt, engaged to a quiet young curate, whom he goads to frenzy by her conduct towards a stalwart captain of dragoons. The following scene shows dramatic power. The news of her lover's fate is brought to Miss Helen at breakfast, the night after a grand ball at her father's house:— "I am too tired to be hungry," Helen said. "Do you know, papa, I danced sixteen times last night?" Tired she was certainly ; bt.t as I noticed her look and tone, it struck me that something more than common weariness ailed her. The intoxication of last night was beginning to bring its reaction: I saw that, and with little Fit!. Yet, whatever her conscience might be whispering, she did her best to drown its voice. As we sat round the breakfast.table she talked so incessantly, that, in the course of one five minutes, I thiee times noticed Mr. Vt ynter look up from his newspaper as though about to speak, and twice turn back, baffled by her volubility, before be could finally succeed in delivering himself of the question with which he was laden. But it came out at last.  " Now, in the midst of all this," he said, " is there any one who can ter me what became of Edward Beresford ? Was he hiding himself all last night, or where was her Helen's lips gave ont no sound ; the only sign that she heard her father's question appeared in her risen colour. 1 was the only other person who was capable of giving a reply to ➢ir. Wynter's question; when, therefore, she did not speak, I said— _ _  " He came late and went early ; I saw both his entrance and his exit."  7 _ _ At,ain Mr. Wynter addressed Helen, and there was in his tone a mixture of gravity and jesting. " What did he do that for. Nelly ? liecau,e he did not get much encouragement to stay; was that it?" 

Article type: NotIncident