we have such an abundant supply under the general name of novels. Mr. Erskine and Mr. Card, it seems, wished for some kind of title, which might hold a respectable rank "above that' of a novel, and which, whilst it amused the good and wise, would secure them from being dubbed novel 'readers or novel writers; a title which would give some degree of dignity to the reader of the tale, to the tale itself, and to the author of it. But, as such a regulation is not at present in force, Mr. Card must content himself with the appellation of a novel writer," which does not appear to sit very easy upon him; but Mr. C. need not be dis"tressed at what he thinks such a misnomer, for we will venture to say, that if the generality of the writers of novels were as circumspect as Mr. Card has been, in admitting nothing but what may be of service to good morals and good breeding, we should not be so often annoyed by the various nothings and worse than nothings, which we are compelled to peruse. Mr. Card's male characters are well educated gentlemen; his females are genteel polished women, more conspicuous for their good sense and correct manners, than for their sprightliness or gaiety. But though Mr. Card may be deficient in that display of life and humour, which throws a lustre on this description of tale-writing, it must be remembered, that he does not offend by vulgarism; nor does he insult the understanding by those slang phrases which it is now the fashion to call toit, and which is by the ignorant and trifling part of the community mistaken for that quality.

The characters of this novel are placed in genteel, and most of them in high life. We meet with no out of the way incidents, no miraculous escapes; and the love-business is carried on quietly after the old jog-trot way that is, a little contradiction, a few flusterations, a good deal of honourable perseverance on the part of the lovers, and frowns and angry menaces on the side of papa. Then comes a little conciliation, then a reconciliation, then a joining of hands, and then a taking for better and worse, with which, of course, the book closes. The dramatis personæ, are Earl Altamont, a proud peer and a great politician, Lady Emily Clairville, his daughter and heiress, Lady Meeresfield, his sister, Mrs. Eaglehurst, his lordship's cousin, Doctor Glebmore, his lordship's domestic chaplain, Beauford, the hero of this tale, Miss Beauford, his sister, and Mr. Colebrook, his uncle, with other worthies of less importance, to whom we shall make our bow en passant if necessary. AT 75

Charles Beauford is the son of an officer, who lost his "life by being stationed with his regiment in an unwholesome climate. His wife soon followed him to an early tomb, leaving Charles and his sister to the care of her brother, Mr. Colebrooke, an amiable bachelor, who has not acquired in the lonely path of celebacy any of those queer, comical, annoying beyond all endurance qualities, which are now and then to be met with in the society of antiques of this description. This worthy personage brings up his sister's children with parental care and tenderness, and this fatherly attention is repaid by the utmost affection on the part of his youthful relatives. Young Beauford, to every manly grace and virtue that the fondest parent can wish, joins extensive learning and a commanding eloquence, which enlist all hearts in his favour. He is sent, at the usual age, to Oxford to finish his education, and to form those connections which may advance him in life. For, Mr. Colebrooke having lost part of his fortune, which he had set apart as a portion for his nephew and neice, by "the failure of a mercantile house, is under the necessity of acquainting Beauford, that by his exertions alone he can hope to attain that fame, fortune, and honours, which he at present bids so fair to accomplish and appears so well to deserve. Beauford passes his three years at Oxford with great advantage and credit to himself. It so happens, that in reciting in the Theatre at Oxford one of his exercises which has gained him a prize, the Earl Altamont is so struck by his eloquence, that he offers him the situation of his private secretary. This appointment is in unison with Beauford's best wishes and fondest expectations.

Our hero's uncle finding him so well and so honourably settled, quits England for the south of France, hoping to amend his health, which had been failing for a considerable time. Miss Beauford is left under the protecting care of his neighbour, Mrs. Eaglehurst. As private, secretary to a great man, Charles Beauford found he had to write and answer letters, to compose speeches which his master got by heart to repeat in the House of Lords, to correct his lordship's ungrammatical diction, and to, write spirited pamphlets in his lord's defence whenever he was attacked. But that our readers may have some idea of what a politician may be composed, we give Mr. Card's character of the Earl Altamont.

His lordship had succeeded to the title and estates of his brother in the thirtieth year of his age; and had he continued a younger brother, the mediocrity of his talents would never have

distinguished him from the vulgar mass of men. But forty thousand a year, the nomination of several boroughs, the possession of that talent in common speech, called discretion, and an ambition extremely active and inordinate, had converted him into a minister of state. In his eager desire, however, of being somebody in the political world, nothing strikes us so strongly as the untrodden path which he took to climb the steeps of greatness. Disqualified by nature and a neglected education from acquiring the reputation of an orator and a debater, he affected to be so passionately addicted to rural sports, to social and convivial joys, and to all fashionable gaieties and amusements, as to have little time, and less inclination, to engage in public business. To support this appearance, he kept horses for racing, though he took no delight in that sport; he built a tennis court, though he never struck a ball; he maintained a fine pack of fox-hounds, though he rarely followed a chace; he gave the highest prices for pointers of any man in the kingdom, though he never handled a gun; he kept an open table, though he seldom did the honours of it: and he surpassed every other noble family in the county, in the frequency and splendour of his musical entertainments, though he was conscious of deriving not the smallest enjoyment from them.

While his political friends, therefore, thought him immersed in a round of dissipation and pleasures, he was indefatigable in his private library, and preparing public speeches with great pains and deliberation. In delivering, however, his sentiments in the house, it was his great aim to set them forth as if they were the suggestions of ready genius and a quick perception; so that though he seldom spoke, and never upon occasions where a reply was expected, yet by that contrivance, what he did say, carried with it very great weight. Still further to secure the name of a statesman, he secretly expended very considerable sums, in obtaining information respecting the views of the different cabinets in Europe. By which means, it sometimes, happened that he gained intelligence of important events before they had reached the ears of the ministry when, in communicating them, he ever artfully managed to give his penetration the appearance almost of intuition. He thus was able to delude even the best judges of talents and the acutest observers of character among his colleagues, into a thorough belief, that there were few persons who more completely understood the relative interests of Europe than himself; and that if he were less a man of pleasure, the quickness of his parts and the solidity of his judgment would render him ene of the most leading members of administration.

To cajole also the world into an opinion, that he had an infinite fund of various and almost universal knowledge, he treasured up in his mind a number of anecdotes, repartees, good sayings, and humourous incidents, which with great industry he

had collected from rare books; when under the appearance of careless indifference, he was anxiously watching an opportunity of introducing them at a proper time and place. He had the method also of escaping from an 'untenable position, 'and from arguments which he could not refute or invalidate, in a very peculiar way. Being rather of a corpulent habit of body, he affected to doze, when he could not reply; and continued in a sort of lethargic state, until an opening was made for him to put in a hit of retaliation. Little then did his acquaintance suspect, when they expressed their surprise at his acquisitions made in a condition of visible negligence and gaiety, what a deal of labour it cost him to obtain their praises. To create a reputation among the reading and thinking part of society, the assistance of men of letters was indispensably necessary. Accordingly, 'he became a Mæcenas in one sense of that word; he gave excellent dinners to those who were supposed to direct the public taste. Upon these also he practised the same trick of lolling back in his chair, in seeming drowsiness, when the 'stock of his ideas was exhausted, and there was the least possible hazard of committing himself. But ever vigilant and attentive in his prudential silence, he lost no idea that was started 'or hint which could be useful to him; while such were the fears' of this diligent collector of hints, that any valuable remark might elude him in consequence of the badness of his memory, that he never went to bed, however late his company might separate, without first writing down whatever fell from their lips that could in the remotest degree be instrumental to the gratification, of his reigning passion for being reckoned a great statesman.

Without having a particle of real charity in his whole composition, his name was enrolled in all public benefactions, under the notion that it would give him popularity among the subordinate classes of the community. Nor could any one be mentioned of his rank and power in the state who appeared so often as the promoter and president of patriotic institutions, He was here indeed upon his very strongest ground. He could upon such occasions make a speech without incurring the risk of being disconcerted by an unexpected objection; and having the strength of an Herculean constitution, he could swallow deep potations without producing any inebriety, while the passions of those around him were just in that fit state to be gratified exceedingly by those attentions which he knew so well how to time and where to apply. His civilities of this kind (for those to whom he paid them generally, wanted nothing else of him), rarely failed of producing the desired effect; that of rendering him a general favourite among a body of men who, by a variety of minute and circuitous channels, had a considerable influence over the minds of their fellow-subjects. Móre circumstances to give a person a great reputation among his 'contemporaries, and little or none with posterity, cannot easily be imagined.

J

The temper of Earl Altamont was, in consequence of his domineering passion for politics, very uncertain and precarious. He was as often offended as pleased; but his hatred was always more violent and lasting, than his benevolence. To his dependents, especially of that description whom death alone could remove from his controul, he was a complete tyrant; indeed, hardly a single trait of kindness of heart or generous philanthropy, can be produced to be cast into the scale against the several acts of oppression, arrogance, and selfishness, they experienced from him. His notions of friendship, therefore, we may suppose, were not of the most exalted kind. For he had breathed too much of the air of a court to think, that the sacred and venerable name of friendship was any thing more than mere varnish and pretext; and that self-interest was not the real spring and motive of all those actions which the world accounted to be of a pure and disinterested nature. Reasoning from this principle, all the good offices he did, were primarily for the sake of his own accommodation. It therefore never conce entered into his head to bestow any peculiar marks of his beneficence where he did not expect to gather the fruits of that beneficence with a tenfold increase. Upon which account his friendship was more offered to the rich and great, than to the wise and virtuous. There might be said indeed to be only two persons upon earth to whom his heart was susceptible of that feeling, and these were his sister and his daughter; yet even with these he could not enjoy (so much had the habit of acting with the utmost wariness and art in every possible public circumstance and situation, gradually weakened the feelings of nature), that delicious sympathy, and that confidential ease and -openness which constitute the charm and soul of family - affection.'

Beauford fills the situation of private secretary with honour to himself and credit to his employer. But it so happens, that this lord has a beautiful daughter, who has no other failing under heaven than what she inherits from her papa, namely, consummate pride and arrogance. This young lady thinking most naturally, that her father's se cretary must necessarily be some good sort of a body, who could write a good hand and spell his Dilworth with much facility from Abbot to Absalom, was not a little astonished, when Mr. Beauford was introduced, to find an Adonis in 1 form, and a high bred man of fashion in manners, instead of a quill driver. Like a wise woman, therefore, she is determined to shut the stable door, unconscious that the Esteed is stolen, and treats Beauford with the utmost indifference, haughtiness, and contempt. But Beauford, from one magnanimous action or the other, throws her ladyship off her guard, kicks Mr. Pride out of doors, and walks into