REAL PEARLS IN A FALSE SETTMG,

Iln.tas about the same relation to the generality of novels as the broadest farce does to comedy. Separately many of the incidents may have occurred, but the whole is morally impossible. Of this the author seems to be conscious in his title ; " Real Pearls" ap- parently implying the reality of single scenes, whilst the " False Setting," verv needlessly, indicates that the whole is not to be taken as an " ower true tale."

The staple material of the volumes is such as may be supposed to have been picked up by a man whose professional avocations have thrown him into various company, from which a native wag- gery of no very delicate kind has prompted him to extract the ludicrous qualities, to fin-nisi' forth "good stories" or " capital jokes" for after-dinner telling. Life and characters at watering. places and in public conveyances, with the odd occurrences that arise timin the native dispositions of peculiar individuals, or the art by which farceurs contrive to bring them out, are interwoven into a sort of story ; the heroes being a city knight of forty, in search of health by recreation, and a younger companion, who would have no objection to advance his fortunes by a rich wife. In the course of their pilgrimage, they meet with old acquaintances or make new ones ; and the different incidents which befall each party are told in a manner which somehow or other relates them to the principal persons, though not by a structure which a devotee of the unity of action might approve of

The merit of the writer has been indicated already. Tic has the quick perception of the ridiculous, and the power of making it effective in narration, which belong to most good story-tellers. Like them, too, he is very much given to dwell upon externals, to linger over the description of creature comforts, and to be not over-

nice how he raises a laugh ; sonic of his jests of action being too broad to read aloud in a mixed company. In the not easy task of

seizing and developing character or sustaining dialogue, he is be- yond the general run of that class of men who pass their lives or their leisure in observing others to turn them into jest. M. de Beaureste, the French tourist in search of information, with his broken English, his note-book, and his unvarying good-humour save when he fancies an insult intended, though not altogether novel, is amusing and true. Captain Gunner Gunster is a caricature, and an oddity, almost belonging to another age ; but he has marks of life about him, and is ludicrous. Widow 0 Toole and her daugh- ters, husband-hunting at Cheltenham, read like a transcript from broad Irish life ; but are more fitted for the meridian of the Eme- rald Isle than for the aristocratic watering-place, to which they have probably been transplanted. Sir Walter Closet, the knight, looks like an invention in all that regards his city career ; but his character, as developed in the " False Setting," is a consistent and skilful creation. He is made " commonly ridiculous, but never contemptible ;" his benevolence preserving our good-will.

The reader must not run away with the idea that the " Real Pearls" are altogether worthy of their name. On the con- trary, none of them are of the first water, many are somewhat cloudy, and sonic are mock articles, whilst the thread which strings them together is none of the best ; or, to drop metaphor, some of the incidents are dull and devoid of character, a good many of the jokes flat, and all of them verging upon caricature, whilst the story is frequently prosy. But, though foolish and &Meal, the better part of the volumes are laughable, for those persons who are not too refined for broad grins. 1 o prevent mistakes, however, it will be best to offer a few samples of what Real Pearls in a Falde Selling are likely to supply.

A BRACE OF MISTAKES.

" Bravo; d—d good!" escaped from Captain Gunner Gunster ; adding, "James, open that marischino, and hand it round : how do you like it, Sir Walter?"

Sir Walter Closet nodded his head after tasting it, and said but little. " Connor, how do you find it ?" inquired the good captain.

" So so, by the holy poker," replied Mr. J'olin Connor, laying down his glass. " Try it, Mounseer," said the Captain ; " I got it from the cellar of George the Fourth ; it has been forty years in bottle ; hirtv do you find it ? Eli ? The polite Frenchman tasted the proffered glass, and said, "

cieux—vary gout—bravo—pretty well."

" Give me a glass, James," said the Captain ; but on applying it to his hp's, he 'withdrew it speedily, brought it near his nose, and then -dashed both glass tutd.contents on the old Turkey carpet, exclaiming, " Castor oil, by God In the agitation of the moment, poor Sir Walter's nature showed itself; for he exclaimed, " Never mind; it's an old Turkey—I can paint your Turkey, and it will make a handsome floor-cloth!" and then the knight blushed, as fee remembered his shop. There was a short etnbarrassing silence, but soon Cap- tain Gunner Gunster broke it, by- " The fact is, George the Fourth, confound him, sometimes kept his castor oil for the sake of freshness in his cellar ; and at the time of the auction, some of these d—d unctuous bottles must have slipped in amongst the liqueurs." " Puts me in mind of when I was dining one day at a widow's in town," said Mr. Springer, tt whose husband had left her a splendid cellar of wines, but in some confusion. Some much vaunted hock was -handed round to the ladies I in green glasses : they liked it better than ladies like hock in general; but when it came to my turn, I found it was very fine old gin. I ought to have kept my counsel, and the ladies would have enjoyed the remainder and residue of the bottle; but like a Marplot, I named it to our widow Lady President, and so spoilt sport.

CAPTAIN GUNNUR GUNSTER'S TASTE IN PAINTING.

"None of your absent fits, Mr. Daniel Pimple! Are yoti any relation to Lord Cork?"

"Egad! that's enough to make his blood Boyle.," roared Captain Gunner Gnnster, whilst those conversant with the Peerage laughed, nod the Captain continued.: "Mrs. G. G.," for he sometimes indulged in these lottres majuscules, - as the French say, by way of an abbreviation to the name he had bestowed on his espoused, "Mrs. G. G., I say, what's the next month to February ? " Mrs. Gunner Gunster, who seemed to have rehearsed this before enacted her part well, and took the hint to " march," by casting a meaning glance at Mrs. Fitzherbert O'Toole' who, not having her husband to obey, lingered a little before she understood it. Mrs. O'Toole then east a look at, and gave birth to a sigh for Sir Walter Closet ; then she arose majestically, and with swanlike demarehe, followed by her cygnets, made for the sortie, and dropping a drooping curtsy to Mrs. Coffin, whispered to her daughters, "Stand back, and let the Coffin pass ;" whereupon Mrs. Coffin, heedless of the remark, because she did not hear it, proceeded, followed by the rest of the fair ones, and a funny little blue-spotted dog came running into the room, as if to replace the ladies, awl the door was closed.

"The ladies, three times three !" roared the Captain through an enormous speaking trumpet, that he had previously kept concealed!under his chair. This conceit had a double object ; first, that the ladies might hear him give the toast ; and secondly, he gratified by it his own pride, that rejoiced in reverting to any thing that once belonged to his ship. Three times three were given in style, accompanied by the incessant barking of the little blue-spotted dog. "Come here, my little chanticleer," said Mr. John Connor, taking the spatted dog up by the ribs, and placing him on his knee ; but singular to relate, the dog imparted of his cerulean tints to the hands and trousers of Mr. John Connor, who dipped his hands in the finger-glass, but to no avail, for the stain was indelible. rhen he smelt his fingers, and exclaimed, " Oil again, Gunster! what the devil's the matter with your dog ? blood and 'ounds !be comes off." And after these few emphatic words, down he threw the quadruped ; whereupon Captain Gunner Gunster rang the bull furiously, and James answered it, pale at the violent summons.

" You d—d land lubber," said the Captain furiously, " didn't I tell you not to let that dog out till he was dry ? Don't stand there, Sir, grinning like a Cheshire cat, but bring some turpentine"—(and then turning to Mr. John Connor in a tone of apology)—" My dear Sir„I beg ten thouguid pardons; it's James's fault ; I'm in the habit of painting my dugs a bit in oil, and that one was not near dry." The whole party now burst into an access of laughter, which did not cease till the essence of turpentine had been rubbed into -Mr. Joins Connor's hands and trousers to his complete satisfaction. As the noise of mirth ceased, Mr. Daniel Pimple ventured to ask Captain Gunner Gunster what his motives could be for painting his dog, addressing him thus dryly. "My dear Sir, excuse me, pray may I ask you, not as a matter of im- pertinent curiosity, but as a means of research in my anxiety to derive know- ledge and information, as fur as lies in my power, in case I tun returned for Hounslow,—I repeat again, may I ask what could have induced you to paint that little terrier with sky-blue spots?" "Certainly, Sir," replied the Captain; first of all, I am very fond of sky blue as a colour ; perhaps I may have contracted this predilection from hash; been so long on the Mediterranean station ; then, Sir, all my numerous efforts to obtain a sky-blue spotted dog have been hitherto baffled, so I determined to make one for myself. Surely, gentlemen, altering; the colour of the outer ease does not detract from the merit of the race ; if that dog had been thordugla dry, he would have lasted for six months, and he would have been flattered: by the admiration of thousands. I have been in many countries, gentlemen where all the men and women subjected their skins to artificial changes at colour: we need not go abroad, gentlemen, for examples : if we are to baste celebrated historians, our own ancestors, painting themselves each one to his own taste, must also have dabbled in oils. Gentlemen, I am very fond of painting, and as I ant but a poor draftsman, I paint the animals themselves; it saves me sketching, and the outline is then sure to be correct.

A HINT FOR SWAINS.

" Ah, my dear Pimple," continued Mr. Springer, at the end of his narrative, " I hope it will be all right ; but between you and Inc and the post, I think there has been a devil of a bother about an inch of hair ; if every lock I tree had given to me had created so much confusion, it would have been a regular ehay-os over again. I had at one thee women's hair enough to have made ray fortune, if I could hare sold it at is penny an inch. I remember a young had's governor writing to me one day in a great rage, demanding back his daughter's hair by return of post. I sent him up a bundle of integuments by the mail, and wrote to him, as I had 1;ggetten the exact shade, I begged lie would match it out of the lot. That's the way to treat people that bother you about hair; why it is only lit to mix with mortar after all."