Louisa. But, unable to bear the thought of separation and delay, he importunes her to marry privately, and escape from bome. All, however, that he can obtain is, an assurance that she will come to some determination by the following day. Taking it for granted that she will yield, he flies to his friend, to consult on the means of carrying his plan into execution. Here he meets with a rebuff; the old stationer gives a blunt refusal, and Howard's eloquence is exerted in vain.

"It will be your ruin,' swore he, both one and t'other of you. Meet her in welcome, pretty dear: dry the tears from her soft eyes, after you have by your fine speeches fairly set her a weeping. Swear constancy to her upon holy Moses, if you will; and whenever you can afford to maintain a wife, return and claim her in open day-in broad sunshine, as a body may say; but none of your raking pots of tea-none of your moon-light fittings for me: was'nt have my neighbour's daughter, whom I have known since she war' at the size of a turf on Cloghaneelly mountain, and my old landlord's son, stealing away with packs on their backs, like a couple of tinkers, and living all their lives afterwards like beggars. Love won't do alone; no, no, love alone won't do: good thing for a main-mast, but the vessel won't sail far without being victualled-sky-scraper, and no ballast in the hold, would soon set her keel uppermost. Despise riches as much as any man, -wouldn't turn my heel where my toe stands, to be head cashier of the bank of England, or partner in the house of Prescot, Grote, Culverden, and Hollingsworth. But love won't do, tell you must be something to make the pot boil.-Cupid's arrows— old fool that I am, to be talking about Cupid-kill no game; and as I recollect reading, when I used to trot, a little bare-legged boy, to Paddy Gallaugher's school, under the cairn by the side of Lough Salt-Venus freezed'-forget the rest, but know it means she'll soon turn tail upon you, unless you clap into her hand a potatoe, and treat her to a mouthful of whiskey.'

The old man winds up his harangue by swearing instantly to disclose the secret to the father, if Howard will not desist from his intention; and the latter, as he cannot act without him, reluctantly acquiesces. Delighted with having gained his point, the stationer promises to win the father's consent within twelvemonths, and to invite him to supper that night, in order to enable Howard to take leave of Louisa.

The result of this evening is fatal to the peace of both.Louisa falls a victim to her tenderness; and her lover, wher reason again assumes its empire, is no less miserable than herself. On the following morning, he hurries to see her, resolved, before his departure, to repair, at all risks, his fault by an immediate marriage; but, unluckily, he finds it impossible to obtain an interview. Flaving lingered much past the hour at which

he

he ought to have dined with his patron, he proceeds to keep his appointment. That gentleman, seeing his agitation, endeavours to learn the cause of it, which, however, Howard has not courage to tell; and at length, his patron, who begins to suspect that he is not remarkable for prudence or punctuality, thinks it necessary to insist on seeing him to the coach, which is to convey him from London, lest the situation which he has obtained for him should be lost by delay. The lovers are thus separated, without again seeing each other.

We now reach the second volume, which, by a sort of Hibernian arrangement, opens with what is in reality a preface to the work. By the defence which it contains, of a certain class of novels, we cannot say that we are at all edified or convinced. At his ideas of Reviewers, we cannot condescend to be angry; they are only calculated to excite our contempt. Where is his proof, that" Reviewers' opinions, in general, are known not to be fairly given?" Mr. Gamble declares that he does not read reviews; and, while he declares this, he strongly reminds us of the sapient bird, which thrusts its head into a bush, and believes that no person can see it. One thing which Mr. Gamble tells us, entitles him to our pity. "There is," he here 66 says, a rapid alternation in my mind of levity and gloom." And, in another place, he adds, "it is not every mind can pass from levity to gloom, and from gloom to levity with the rapidity of mine. It is not a desirable state of mind." Not desirable, indeed! It approaches too closely, we fear, to the confines of insanity.

During an absence of some months, Howard receives several letters from Louisa, each of which is written in a more despond ing tone than the preceding; but delicacy prevents her from giving more than very obscure hints of the terrible situation in which she now stands. At length, he perceives the danger to which she is exposed; and the bare idea of the consequence drives him nearly to madness. While he is in this constant agony of mind, his dreams and forebodings (Mr. Gamble is fond of dreams and forebodings) are full of terror. One of his visions, full of appalling images, Mr. Gamble describes. In the gloomy and the horrible Mr. Gamble delights; and it must be owned that he excels in painting them. By this dream, Howard is so fearfully agitated, that he has a severe attack of illness, which brings him to the brink of the grave.

On his recovery, he finds another letter, which confirms his apprehensions; and now, regardless of every thing but the peace and reputation of his Louisa, he hastens to England, and, while detained on the road, writes, to inform her of his arrival... When he reaches London, he watches near her father's dwelling,

in

in the hope of seeing her; and, at last, overcome by alarm at the silence and darkness of the house, determines to knock at the door. It is opened by his friend, the old stationer. A conversation takes place, and Howard is informed that his friend, through whose hands all the letters had been transmitted, finding an English post-mark on the last letter, had suspected Howard's Intention, taken the liberty of breaking the seal, and, conceiving him to have violated his promise, had communicated the whole to the father, who had carried Louisa down into the country, without hinting to her the reason of his so doing. Howard finally succeeds in prevailing on him to name the place to which she is removed, which is to her uncle's, at Litchfield.

To Litchfield he begins bis journey. At the inn, at Birmingbam, where he stops for the night, there is a ball, which he cau see from his window; and, as he stands listening to the music, and gazing on the light figures flitting before him, be soliloquizes in a mournful strain on the vanity of human pleasures. The sound of a pistol arouses him from his meditations; he descends into the vard, perceives on the ground an officer who has been wounded in a duel, and speedily discovers that it is his friend, the dissipated ensign. One by one, the spectators depart, and leave Howard and the dying man alone. To his astonishment, Howard learns the perfidy of his friend, but he generously forgives him, and, at his earnest request, promises to stay and see him buried.. Through the night he watches the struggles of his once gay companion; and he again soliloquizes, in a still more despondent and reprehensible tone than before." Oh! creature!" exclaims he, speaking of man in general, " doomed, to misery, and exposed to every variety of suffering and pain, for you, I fear there is no other world; and if there be only this one, surely, of all creatures, you are most miserable." Towards break of day, the ensign expires, and Howard, after having performed the last duties to him, pursues his journey.

The delay which this occasions, he has abundant reason to lament. It is dark, and a heavy rain has come on, by the time that he reaches a village in the vicinity of Litchfield. Here he resolves to pass the night, at a small public house. The conversation of the persons around him relates to the circumstance of a young and beautiful woman, who, having recently thrown herself into the river, has been rescued early enough to save her life, though she is still so weak, as to be unable to give any account of herself. Howard hears this without any feelings of alarm, till all his fears are at once roused by the reason which one of the persons assigns for her having committed this rash

act.

He flies to the cottage, whither she has been carried, and finds that it is indeed his beloved Louisa.. Her father also

arises;

arrives; and the terror, which his anger against Howard excites in his daughter, occasions the premature birth of a dead child. This scene, a pathetic one, and described pathetically, is, like many others in the book, disgraced and marred by the intrusion into it of Mr. Gamble's disgusting sentiments. "At this moment," exclaims Howard, she would be a lifeless corpse, if chance (he called it Providence, for grief as well as fear makes us religious,) had not saved her."

From a long and severe illness, Louisa at length almost recovers; Howard obtains from his benevolent patron a more eligible appointment; and the father gives his consent to the marriage of the lovers. Every thing now seems to wear a propitious aspect. The wedding is to take place in a fortnight, on his return from a visit which he is compelled to pay to the country. But it never takes place. Mr. Gamble cannot bear the idea of making any of his characters happy. A letter reaches Howard, which contains only the words, "come quick, if you would see her alive." In the agony of her feelings, on being subjected unexpectedly to a cruel insult, a blood-vessel had burst, and her death was become inevitable. He hastens back in distraction, just soon enough to receive her last sigh. Insanity seizes him; and he ultimately recovers from it, only to drag a life of deep and cureless sorrow.

This story, simple as it is, is told in a manner which excites a powerful interest. That interest, indeed, remains undiminished, even by the circumstance of the catastrophe being divulged almost at the beginning of the work. But to the literary merit alone of Mr. Gamble, can any praise be awarded? After the specimens which we have given, it is needless to say, that nothing can be worse than his doctrines. Their direct, their inevitable tendency is to make man at least discontented, wretched, and incapable of exertion; for who will exert himself, when he believes that an over-ruling fate laughs all his efforts to scorn? Well would it be, were these their worst effects. But it is impossible not to see that they remove all the restraints on the vices of mankind, and that, therefore, they cannot fail to be the fruitful parents of innumerable crimes. In vain would Mr. Gamble plead, that he intends his novels to show the direful consequences which arise from the commission of a single guilty act.-He bas dis qualified himself from urging this plea. Has he not laboured to destroy the strongest motive for loving virtue, and abhorring wickedness ; and has he not likewise, over and over again, taught the lesson that man is the sport of an invincible necessity, against which all his prudence will not avail him in the "slightest degree." With Mr. Gamble's principles, it is as much a mockery to talk of the "fault" of Howard, as to talk

VOL. IV. OCTOBER, 1815.

Ff

of

of the fault committed by a bayonet or a bullet. Before we part with him, we must advise him, and we do it in perfect sincerity and kindness, to beware that his principles do not ultimately exclude not only all "levity," but also all feeling of comfort from his mind, and involve it in profound and irremediable gloom." We fear that he may not be quite as safe from such a tremendous infliction, as perhaps he himself will imagine.

ART. IX. The Evidence of Authority of the Christian Religion. By the Rev. Thomas Chalmers, Minister of Kilmany, Edinburgh. 8vo. 266 pp. 7s. 6d. Longman. 1814. THE contents of this volume have already been presented in part to the public, under the article CHRISTIANITY, in the Edinburgh Encyclopædia. We are happy to see it republished in its present form, as we are persuaded that it cannot be read without producing the most serious and heartfelt conviction of the truth of that holy religion which it is designed to defend. The evidences of Christianity are so numerous and overpowering, that no one writer can enter at large upon every ground of defence, but each man takes that department, to which the natural teudency of his mind peculiarly directs him. Mr. Chalmers dedicates the chief part of his labours to the exposition of the historical evidence, and the ground which he has thus chosen is defended both with accuracy and with skill.

The work is divided into ten chapters, I. On the Priuciples of Historical Evidence, and their Application to the Truth of Christianity. II. On the Authenticity of the different Books of the New Testament. III. On the internal marks of Honesty and Truth to be found in the New Testament. IV. On the Testimony of the Original Witnesses to the Truth of the Gospel Narrative. V. On the Testimony of Subsequent Witnesses. VI. Remarks on the Argument from Prophecy. VII. Remarks on the Scepticism of Geologists. VIII. On the Internal Evidence and Objections of Deistical Infidels. IX. On the Way of Proposing the Argument to Atheistical Infidels. X. On the Supreme Authority of Revelation.

The distinguishing feature of this volume is the calm and convincing manner in which it speaks to the common and practical sense of the reader. We trust that it will have its due share of readers, who cannot fail of deriving much useful and satisfactory knowledge from its perusal. Mr. Chalmers is a clear-beaded man, and understands the laws of evidence well, but we could wish that he had not decried the mode of defence pursued by

Dr.