A PAIR OF NOVELS.* Thraldom opens well. We are introduced
at once to the hero— a thoroughly English youth—brave, honest, simple, affectionate,
• (1.1 Thraldom. By Julian Sturgis. 1 rot London Longman. Green, and Co. —(2.) Hiss Gascoigna By Mrs. J. H. Riddell. 1.51. London: Ward and Downey. with a good conceit of himself, as the Irish say, and passionately fond of hunting. He is sanguine, and "one of those who expect to get things which they do not expect." The sketch of his father, an English hunting squire, is as good, and the relations between father and son are admirably and humorously drawn. " When old Tom Fans grumbled at the frost in a comfortable, matter-of-coarse way, his son surprised him by cursing it with conviction." Tom junior's assurance of success in courtship, and immeasurable though quite simple-minded self-confidence, are also described with power and humour. "He was always too ready to beat the drums of the conqueror, and to plant his banner on the walls. He had hardly left hold of the little hand when he saw the faint rose deepen on his lady's cheek as the butler announced the entrance of Mr. de Conley. Tom kicked a hole in all his drums, and stuffed the flag of victory into his pocket, and all his glad confidence went down into his patent-leather boots, as his host presented him to their new neighbour." After an animated opening and proof of real power, what a sad disappointment to find ourselves almost im- mediately in a witch's cauldron of mediums, mesmerism, Obeah men and women, with their bottles, toads, spiders, cooking-pots, harmless-looking leaves, and other things that make ordinary humanity " wither and pine." The heroine is subdued by mesmerism and spirited away ; the hero is pricked by the sharp and poisoned nail of the Obeah woman (whose mother had lived two hundred years), and is like to die, but is of course rescued; so is the heroine, and they are united and are happy ever after. The agent in this very natural story is a wicked lady who has lost her West-Indian plantations, and schemes to secure, by mesmeric and other influences, a rich man's daughter for her fascinating eon. If any one likes to read 247 pages for the sake of the first 37, let him by all means order this novel.
There are three points of resemblance between Thraldom and Miss Gascoigne. First, they are both in that never-tu- be-too-much-praised form, one volume ; secondly, they are both disappointing, but whereas Thraldom has a good beginning and is otherwise poor, Miss Gascoigne has a bad ending and is otherwise good ; and thirdly, each story has in it an amiable young man brought from a foreign country and an indulgent home to take his chance of life in England. But here these unimportant resemblances cease, for Mrs. Riddell's story is, till near the close, delightful. Miss Gascoigne herself is charming, but only remarkable through being charming ; otherwise she is a natural woman, warm-hearted, sympathetic, sensible, kind, and good ; and she is beautiful, though not very young,—altogether, the picture of her is very clever and very attractive. She finds herself in the quite possible, but very unusual position of care-taker to an equally attractive gentle- man, who is not very old,—in fact, there are ten years between their ages on what is called " the wrong side." An old friend of Miss Gascoigne's father writes, after a quarter of a century's silence, to ask if he will take charge of his son, who is, from temperament and constitution, unfit for their rough Canadian life, and who has money, left to him by his mother. Old Mr. Gascoigne has long been dead, and our heroine, having ample means and no one to care for, undertakes the charge of the "lad." The " lad," on arrival, turns out to be a handsome young man of one-and-twenty. The drift of the story will easily be guessed. Admiration, gratitude, and the charm of contrast between the rough Canadian home and the refinement and cultivation of Miss Gascoigne's surroundings, throw a glamour over the young man which ripens into a deep and well-founded devotion. Everything goes merrily as a marriage-bell, and we cannot express too deeply our vexa- tion and indignation and sense of personal injury when the cruel authoress makes this lady so morbidly fastidious as to wreck her own life's happiness, and that of her lover—losing suddenly all her calm good-sense and religions faith and trust— because she accidentally hears some one say that God makes marriages between the young, man makes them between old men and young women, and the devil makes them between old women and young men. Having broken off her engagement, she makes a " suitable " marriage herself, but is hurt to learn that her young lover has also married. Mrs. Riddell tells us very little about this eligible husband, and evidently has not realised and personified him herself, for she calls him, in- differently, Mr. Tracey and Mr. Tracy. But here our strictures shall end, for the main part of the story deserves nothing but praise, save for some defective English and careless punctuation and printing. Mrs. Riddell's sketch of the social life of a small
eonntrrtown is so lively and true, that it even reminds us of Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford. Boys are evidently favourites with
Mrs. Riddell. Humphrey Wolcombe is a very lively sketch; he and five other small boys appear at Mies Gascoigne's the morning after the hero's arrival, to make the acquaintance of the new " lad," and to show him the lions. It is an amusing call, followed by a walk, in which the young man becomes a hero to the small boys. When the others have dispersed to their dinners,— '"I'll go with you as far as Cliff House,' answered Humphrey. 'I won't be late for dinner ; I shouldn't care if I were, though, there's nothing but resurrection pie to day.'—Cyril thought of Mrs. Gray's alluring cakes, and his conscience again smote him for a lost oppor- tunity. If they were only passing through the High Street once more ! he thought. But he really could not propose to go back, though he longed to give the boy something. With Humphrey, how- ever, there was no fear of occasions not presenting themselves. He constantly made his occasion, and he did not neglect to do so now. With his cap well pushed beak off his head, his coat flying wide, and his hands buried in his pockets, he began a lamentation to earth, sea, and sky, apparently not addressing, or even looking at, his companion. I wish I had some money—I do wish I had some money ; there are such a lot of things I could buy if I had money...—. What do you so particularly want money for P. asked Cyril.' 0, I could scarcely tell you, but there's the jolliest knife in Medway's window. It is a pruning-knife and penknife, and a corkscrew and a button-hook, and it has a thing for taking the stones out of a horse's hoof—awfully useful, you know ; and I would give the whole world for a dog- whistle, and I am in terrible need of a pocket-book, and some fine hooks and flies ; bat it is no use wishing. Pa won't give me any money, and ma won't give me any money, and Hetty won't neither. I'll have to wait till I'm a man, and can get some for myself ; and by that time the knife will be sold, and if it isn't, perhaps I cha'n't care for You think you will make money when you are a man ?'— ' Bare to. Wouldn't it he fine if I could wake rap a man to-morrow morning ? Everybody says I have twice as many brains as pa, but they are no good to me so long as I am only a boy. They won't tell me how to get any money now.'—Young Mr. Crayleigh felt exceed- ingly uncomfortable. Might he, or might he not, venture to offer Master Woloombe money ; and if he might, how much ? He had no precedent to guide him, for money was scarce where he came from, and tips scarcer, and a sum that would have delighted
his brothers might probably offend his companion Miss Gascoigne has heaps of money,' resumed Humphrey, and, if I asked her, she would give me ever so mach, I know ; bat I'd have a life of it at home afterwards, for Hetty worms out everything ; so
I suppose have to do without what I want;' and the boy heaved a heavy sigh.—' It would be a great pity for you to have to do that,' said Cyril.—' It is what I always have to do. Ma and pa and Hetty can get all they like, and it is a shame. I often tell them so, and they only laugh. Sometimes I think I'll drown myself. Perhaps they'd be sorry then; I'm not sore, though.'—' Were I you I certainly should not drown myself on the chance,' advised Mr. Crayleigh, laughing; bet his merriment did not elicit any answering mirth. Humphrey only walked doggedly on, kicking the loose stones before him, considering the suicide or some other question. Meantime, Mr. Crayleigh had decided that he would risk offending his young friend. If he did not, he knew that shortbread, that wonderful knife, that made( pocket-book, those hooks and flies—to say nothing of many other articles incidentally mentioned in the course of their walk— would haunt his dreams. Extracting a sovereign from his pocket, he ventured to say, 'Perhaps this may help to bay what you want:— Humphrey took the coin and looked at it. Do you mean this for me ?' he asked.—' Yee, if you will have it.'—' All of it ?'—' Certainly.'
Well, you are a tramp r— Cyril almost expected the boy to turn instantly, now be had secured what he wanted ; but Humphrey showed no desire to part company. He marched determinedly on till they reached the gates of Cliff House, when be said, ' I'll not go in; if I do, Mise Gascoignewill make me stay, and she might think I'd come back expecting to be asked.'—` Good morning, then,' answered Cyril, cheerfully; 'I am greatly obliged to you for showing me the town.' —.0, that's nothing,' returned the boy, walking slowly away ; then he paused, and retraced his steps. Look here,' he began, ' don't you go and marry any of the Granland girls. They'll all be making up to you ; but have nothing to do with them, more especially Hetty;' after which burst of grateful advice he sauntered down the hill"
Miss Gaacoigne's early life had passed in a home of poverty, and she makes some very pertinent remarks, which may be
wisely taken to heart by many a poor and conscientious murmurer, whether grumbling at it aloud, or enduring it in silent and soar rebellion :-
" She was a sad, quiet reolase, yet there had no doubt been a time when the voices of singing-men and singing-women, the sound of merry jesting, light laughter, and whispered lovers' vows, would have seemed pleasant, if such things bad chanced to come in her way. In lien of mirth and love, however, she made acquaintance with galling poverty—the poverty which only those who come of decent people ever know—which bound the whole family in chains they dared not break, and doomed them to a life in which they sacrificed most things worth having for the sake of a social Juggernaut, which crashed them daily as they lay supine. They were well-born—they were accomplished—they were presentable ; yet not one of them ever took much, if any, enjoyment oat of life. 'If we had only money, how happy we should be !' they had said, in turn and in doleful unison ; and behold, when the money came, disease and death came with it. The chance was ours once,' thought Miss Gascoigne, as she looked seaward. 'We were young and healthy ; if we had not been always thinking about our poverty, we might have mixed among people, and enjoyed ourselves in a simple way. The sun shone then as now, and the wind was fresh and bracing, and we had this dear old house, and we were all together ; and yet we never seemed contented. I cannot —cannot imagine why we allowed ourselves to sink into such a state of despondency merely because we were forced to practise close economy. God knows, if we had not got into the habit of being miserable, I think I could have been light-hearted enough.' " Miss Gascoigne does not let her regret remain unfruitful. She becomes the source of life and happiness, as well as a comforter, to her friends and neighbours, and the centre and originator of endless innocent amusements. Before closing our notice of this exceedingly pleasant story— save for its absurd denouement, which we consider a temporary aberration of Mrs. Riddellls—we mast draw attention to the clever episode of the vulgar and conceited young curate, and his attentions and repeated proposals to Miss Gascoigne, as well as to her spirited treatment of him and them.
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