ACTOF BELL'S TENANT Or WILDFELL HALL.

Tan volumes of fiction that some time since appeared under the name of Bell, with three several prtenomens, had such a generic resemblance to one another that several reviewers remarked it. The first and most striking affinity was of substance. Each of the Bells selected the singular both in character and incident. The persons were such as are formed by a natural peculiarity of disposition, influenced by an ego.' peculiarity of circumstances, or produced by strong passions running their course unrestrained in the freedom of a remote country place, at time which permitted greater liberty to individual will or caprice than is vouchsafed even to brutal and isolated squireens in these days. The corn

position—not mere diction, but the arrangement of the incidents and per

sons, as well as the style of the things themselves—was extreme and wild ; jacking to base effects on the startling, without much regard either to probability or good taste. A rough vigour characterized the whole batch of Bells; but Currer Bell, the author or editor of Jane Eyre, exhibited rather the most cultivated taste and decidedly the most literary skill. Nearly one half of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, by Acton Bell, forms a sort of setting to the main story, and is pitched in a more natural key than the author's previous novel, though not without occasional roughness. In escaping from his extreme and violent manner, however, he loses somewhat of his strength and interest. There is nature, undoubtedly ; but it is of a common kind. The daily life of a young and selfsufficient gentleman farmer and his family, with the characters and gossip of his neighbourhood, are scarcely enough to sustain the reader for a volume, even with the addition of the aforesaid farmer's love for the mysterious tenant of Wildfell Hall. The tale of this lady, which she has written down apparently for her lover to read, is a story of suffering in married life, arising from the licentiousness, drunkenness, and downright blackguardism of her husband and his associates. She is provoked by his profligacy, disgusted by his habits, and surrounded by tempting gallants ; and scenes founded on such subjects -form the narrative of the tale, till she secretly escapes, and takes refuge near her brother • whom Gilbert Markham, the farmer lover, has mistaken for a favoured swain, and ferociously assaulted. In due time Mr. Huntingdon the husband dies : his widow's possession of property causes a considerable delay in the denouement ; but it comes at last.

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, like its predecessor, suggests the idea of considerable abilities ill applied. There is power, effect, -and even nature, though of an extreme kind, in its pages ; but there seems in the writer a morbid love for the coarse, not to say the brutal ; so that his level subjects are not very attractive, and the more forcible are displeasing or repulsive, from their gross, physical, or profligate substratum. Ile might reply, that such things are in life : and probably glimpses of such a set as Huntingdon and his friends are occasionally caught in Doctors Commons cases, and tradition pictures such doings as not very rare in the early part of George the Third's reign,—although Mr. Bell paints them as contemporary. Mere existence, ,however, as we have often had occasion to remark, is not a sufficient reason for a choice of subject : its general or typical character is a point to consider, and its power of pleasing must be regarded, as well as its mere capabilities of force or effect. It is not only the subject of this novel, however, that is objectionable, but the manner of treating it. There is a coarseness of tone throughout the writing of all these Bells, that puts an offensive subject in its worst point of view, and whicli generally contrives to dash indifferent things. From the nature of the work, any scene from The Tenant of Wildfell Hall will be of rather a -broad 'kind. The following exhibits a Mr.

liergreve, having worked himself lap to a phrensy in making love to Mrs. Huntingdon, suddenly surprised by the husband and friend. "I never saw a man so terribly excited. He precipitated himself towards me. I snatched up my palette-knife and held it against him. This startled him; he stood and gazed at me in astonishment: I dare say I looked as fierce and resolute as he. I moved to the bell, and pat my hand upon the cord. This tamed him still more. With a half-authoritative, half-deprecating wave of the hand, he sought to deter me from ringing.

'Stand off, then!' said I. He stepped back. "And listen to me. I don't like you,' I continued, as deliberately and emphatically as I could, to give the greater efficacy to my words; 'and if I were divorced from my husband—or if he were dead, I would not marry you. There now! I hope you're satisfied.'

"His face grew blanched with auger.

"I am satisfied,' he replied with bitter emphasis 'that you are the -most coldhearted, unnatuntl, ungratefal woman I ever yet beheld!'

"'Ungrateful, Sir?' " Uogratefnl: "No, Mr. Hargrave; I tun not. For all the good you ever did me, or ever wished to do, 1 most sincerely thank you: for all the evil you have done me, and all you would have done, I pray God to pardon you, and make you of a better mind.'

"Here the door was thrown open, and Messrs. Huntingdon and Hattersley appeared without. The latter remained in the hall, busy with his ramrod and his Enn: the former walked in and stood with his back to the fire, surveying Mr. thrgrave and me, particularly the former, with a smile of insupportable meaning, accompanied as it was by the impudence of his brazen brow, and the sly, malicious twinkle of his eye. "'Well, Sir?' said Hargrave interrogatively, and with the air of one prepared to stand on the defensive.

" ' Well, Sir,' returned his host. "'We want to know if you're at liberty to join us in a go at the pheasants, Walter,' interposed Hattersley from withoutCome! there shall be nothing besides, except a pass or two; I'll vouch for that.'

"Walter did not answer, but walked to the window to collect his _faculties. Arthur uttered a low whistle, and followed him with his eye& A slight flush of elver rose to Ilargrave's cheek; but in a moment he turned calmly round, and said carelessly, '1 came here to bid farewell to Mrs. Huntingdon, and tell her I most go tomorrow.'

" 'Humph 1 You're mighty sudden in your resolution. What takesamo off so soon, may ask ? ' " ' Business,' returned he repelling the other's incredulous sneer with a glance Of somnfal defiance. " "Very good,' was the reply; and Hargrave walked away. Thereupon, Mr. Huntingdon, gathering his coat-laps tinder his arms, and setting his shoulder against the mantelpiece, turned to me, and, addressing me in a low voice, scarcely above his breath, poured forth a volley of the vilest and grossest abuse it was Possible for the imagination to conceive or the tongue to utter. I did not attempt to interropt him; but my spirit kindled within me, and when he had done, I re If your accusation were true, Mr. Huntingdon, how dare you blame me?'

" She slut it, by Jove!' cried Hattersley, rearing his gun against the wall; audd, stoping into the room, he took his precious friend by the arm, and attempted t3D blame her, away' Come, my lad,' he muttered, true or false, you've no right me her, you know—nor him either—after what you said last night. So come along.'

There was something implied here that I could not endure.

f.L. Dare you suspect me, Mr. Ilattersley ? ' said I, almost beside myself with 'Nay, nay, [suspect nobody. It's all right—it's all right. So come along, Runt:mgdon, you blackguard.'

"'She can't deny it ! ' cried the gentleman thus addressed, grinning in min glad rage and triumph. She can't deny it if her life depended on it ! ' and, muttering some more abusive language, he walked into the hall, and took up his hat and gun-from the table.'

"'I scorn to justify myself to you!' said I. 'But you,' turning to Hattersley, if you presume to have any doubts on the subject, ask Mr. Hargrave.' " At this they simultaneously burst into a rude laugh, that made my whole frame tingle to the finger's ends.

"'Where is he? I'll ask him myself!' said I, advancing towards them. "Suppressing a new burst of merriment, Hattersley pointed to the outer door. It WBS half open. His brother-in-law was standing on the front without. "'Mr. Hargrave, will you please to step this way ? ' said L

"Be turned, and looked at me in grave surprise.

"'Step this way, if you please!: I repeated, in so determined a manner that he could not or did not choose to resist its authority. Somewhat reluctantly he ascended the steps, and advanced a pace or two into the hall. "'And tell those gentlemen; .I continued, 'these men—whether or not I yielded to your solicitations.'

"'I don't understand you, Mrs. Huntingdon.' " ' You do understand ma, Sir; and I charge you upon _your honour as a gentleman, (if you have any,) to answer truly. Did I, or did I not?' " No; muttered he turning away. 4eak up, Sir; tiey can't hear you. Did I grant your request ? ' " You did not.'

" ' No,111 be sworn she didn't,' said Hattersley, 'or he'd never look so black.'

" 'Tm willing to grant you the satisfaction of a gentleman, Huntingdon,' said Mr. Hargrave, calmly addressing his host, but with a bitter sneer upon his Countenance.

" Go to the deuce!' replied the latter, with an impatient jerk of the bead. Hargrave withdrew with a look of cold disdain, saying, You know where to find me, should you feel disposed to send a friend.'

"Muttered oaths and curses were all the answer this intimation obtained. "'Now Huntingdon, you see!' said Hattersley; clear as the day.' "'I don't care what he sees,' said I, 'or what he imagines; but you, Mr. Hattersley, when you hear my name belied and slandered, will you defend it? " 'I will. Blast me if I don't.' "