modern plays. There is merit in the writing, but I'll have no glittering gewgaws stuck about you, much more in that dramatic science which disposes To stretch the gaping eyes of idiot wonder, character, scenes, and dialogue with minute attention And make men stare upon a piece of earth to theatric exhibition.' Holcroft wrote a great As on the star-wrought firmament-no feathers number of dramatic pieces-more than thirty be- To wave as streamers to your vanitytween the years 1778 and 1806; three other novels Nor cumbrous silk, that, with its rustling sound, (Anna St Ives, Hugh Trevor, and Bryan Perdue); | Makes proud the flesh that bears it. She's adorned besides a Tour in Germany and France, and nume-Amply, that in her husband's eye looks lovely— rous translations from the German, and French, and The truest mirror that an honest wife Italian. During the period of the French Revo- Can see her beauty in! lution he was a zealous reformer, and on hearing that his name was included in the same bill of indictment with Tooke and Hardy, he surrendered himself in open court, but no proof of guilt was ever adduced against him. His busy and remarkable life was terminated on the 23d of March 1809. JOHN TOBIN. Jul. I shall observe, sir. Duke. I should like well to see you in the dress I last presented you. Jul. The blue one, sir? Duke. No, love-the white. Thus modestly attired, JOHN O'KEEFE-FREDERICK REYNOLDS THOMAS MORTON. JOHN O'KEEFE, a prolific farce writer, was born in Dublin in 1746. While studying the art of drawing to fit him for an artist, he imbibed a pas sion for the stage, and commenced the career of an actor in his native city. He produced generally some dramatic piece every year for his benefit, and one of these, entitled Tony Lumpkin, was played with success at the Haymarket theatre, London, in 1778. JOHN TOBIN was a sad example, as Mrs Inchbald has remarked, of the fallacious hopes by which half mankind are allured to vexatious enterprise. He passed many years in the anxious labour of writing plays, which were rejected by the managers; and no sooner had they accepted The Honey-Moon, than he died, and never enjoyed the recompense of seeing it performed.' Tobin was born at Salisbury in the year 1770, and educated for the law. In 1785 he was articled to an eminent solicitor of Lincoln's Inn, and afterwards entered into business himself. Such, however, was his devotion to the drama, that before the age of twenty-four he had written several plays. His attachment to literary composition did not withdraw him from his legal engagements; but his time was incessantly occupied, and symptoms of consumption began to appear. A change of climate was recommended, and Tobin went first to Cornwall, and thence to Bristol, where he embarked for the He continued supplying the theatres with West Indies. The vessel arriving at Cork, was new pieces, and up to the year 1809, had written, in Most of these detained there for some days; but on the 7th of all, about fifty plays and farces. December 1804, it sailed from that port, on which and some of them enjoyed great success. The Agree were denominated comic operas or musical farces, day-without any apparent change in his disorder able Surprise, Wild Oats, Modern Antiques, Fontain to indicate the approach of death-the invalid ex-bleau, The Highland Reel, Love in a Camp, The Poor pired. Before quitting London, Tobin had left the Honey-Moon' with his brother, the manager having given a promise that it should be performed. Its success was instant and decisive, and it is still a favourite acting play. Two other pieces by the same author (The Curfew, and The School for Authors) were subsequently brought forward, but they are of inferior merit. The Honey-Moon' is a romantic drama, partly in blank verse, and written somewhat in the style of Beaumont and Fletcher. The scene is laid in Spain, and the plot taken from Catherine and Petruchio, though the reform of the haughty lady is accomplished less roughly. The Duke of Aranza conducts his bride to a cottage in the country, pretending that he is a peasant, and that he has obtained her hand by deception. The proud Juliana, after a struggle, submits, and the duke having accomplished his purpose of rebuking the domineering spirit of her sex,' asserts his true rank, and places Juliana in his palace This truth to manifest-A gentle wife Soldier, and Sprigs of Laurel, are still favourites, He the most voluminous of dramatists, author of sevenFREDERICK REYNOLDS (1765-1841) was one of teen popular comedies, and, altogether, of about a hundred dramatic pieces. He served Covent Garden for forty years in the capacity of what he called thinker'-that is, performer of every kind of literary labour required in the establishment. Among his best productions are, The Dramatist, Laugh when you Can, The Delinquent, The Will, Folly as it Flies, Life, Management, Notoriety, How to Grow Rich, The Rage, Speculation, The Blind Bargain, Fortune's Fod, &c. &c. Of these, the Dramatist' is the best. The hero Vapid, the dramatic author, who goes to Bath histo pick up characters,' is a laughable caricature, in which it is said the author drew a likeness of himself; for, like Vapid, he had 'the ardor scribendi upon him so strong, that he would rather you'd ask him to write an epilogue or a scene than offer him your whole estate-the theatre was his world, in The following passage, where the duke gives directions to Juliana respecting her attire, is pointed out by Mrs Inchbald as peculiarly worthy of admiration, from the truths which it contains. The fair critic, like the hero of the play, was not ambitious of dress: which were included all his hopes and wishes.' Out of the theatre, however, as in it, Reynolds was much esteemed. Another veteran comic writer for the stage is THOMAS MORTON, whose Speed the Plough, Way to Get Married, Cure for the Heartache, and The School of Reform, may be considered standard comedies on the stage. Besides these, Mr Morton produced Zorinski, Secrets Worth Knowing, and various other plays, most of which were performed with great applause. The acting of Lewis, Munden, and Emery, was greatly in favour of Mr Morton's productions on their first appearance; but they contain the elements of theatrical success. The characters are strongly contrasted, and the scenes and situations well arranged for effect, with occasionally a mixture of pathos and tragic or romantic incident. In the closet, these works fail to arrest attention; for their merits are more artistic than literary, and the improbability of many of the incidents appears glaring when submitted to sober inspection. Various new pieces have since been produced in the London theatres by Messrs Poole, Theodore Hook, Planche, Jerrold, Buckstone, &c. The novels of Sir Walter Scott and Mr Dickens have been dramatised with considerable success; but most of these recent productions require the aids of good acting, music, and scenery, to render them tolerable. There is no want of novelties; but the wit, the sprightly dialogue, and genuine life of the true English comedy, may be said to be extinct. NOVELISTS. and, fed upon such garbage as we have described, it was scarcely less injurious; for it dwarfed the intellectual faculties, and unfitted its votaries equally for the study or relish of sound literature, and for the proper performance and enjoyment of the actual duties of the world. The enthusiastic novel reader got bewildered and entangled among love-plots and high-flown adventures, in which success was often awarded to profligacy, and, among scenes of pretended existence, exhibited in the masquerade attire of a distempered fancy. Instead, therefore, of Truth severe by fairy Fiction dressed, we had Falsehood decked out in frippery and nonsense, and courting applause from its very extravagance. The first successful inroad on this accumulating mass of absurdity was made by Charlotte Smith, whose works may be said to hold a middle station between the true and the sentimental in fictitious composition. Shortly afterwards succeeded the political tales of Holcroft and Godwin, the latter animated by the fire of genius, and possessing great intellectual power and energy. The romantic fables of Mrs Radcliffe were also, as literary productions, a vast improvement on the old novels; and in their moral effects they were less mischievous, for the extraordinary machinery employed by the authoress was so far removed from the common course of human affairs and experience, that no one could think of drawing it into a precedent in ordinary circumstances. At no distant interval Miss Edgeworth came forward with her moral lessons and satirical portraits, daily advancing in her powers as in her desire to increase the virtues, prudence, and subIn prose fiction, the last forty years have been rich stantial happiness of life; Mrs Opie told her pathetic and prolific. It was natural that the genius and the and graceful domestic tales; and Miss Austen exsuccess of the great masters of the modern English hibited her exquisite delineations of every-day Engnovel should have led to imitation. Mediocrity is lish society and character. To crown all, Sir Walter seldom deterred from attempting to rival excellence, Scott commenced, in 1814, his brilliant gallery of especially in any department that is popular, and portraits of all classes, living and historical, which may be profitable; and there is, besides, in romance, completely exterminated the monstrosities of the as in the drama, a wide and legitimate field for Minerva press, and inconceivably extended the circle native talent and exertion. The highly-wrought of novel readers. Fictitious composition was now tenderness and pathos of Richardson, and the models again in the ascendant, and never, in its palmiest of real life, wit, and humour in Fielding, Smollett, days of chivalrous romance or modern fashion, did it and Sterne, produced a few excellent imitations. command more devoted admiration, or shine with The fictions of Mackenzie, Dr Moore, Miss Burney, greater lustre. The public taste underwent a rapid and Cumberland, are all greatly superior to the ordi- and important change; and as curiosity was stimunary run of novels, and stand at the head of the lated and supplied in such unexampled profusion second class. These writers, however, exercised but from this master-source, the most exorbitant delittle influence on the national taste: they supported vourers of novels soon learned to look with aversion the dignity and respectability of the novel, but did and disgust on the painted and unreal mockeries not extend its dominion; and accordingly we find which had formerly deluded them. It appears to be that there was a long dull period in which this de-a law of our nature, that recreation and amusement lightful species of composition had sunk into general are as necessary to the mind as exercise is to the contempt. There was no lack of novels, but they body, and in this light Sir Walter Scott must be were of a very inferior and even debased description. viewed as one of the greatest benefactors of his In place of natural incident, character, and dialogue, species. He has supplied a copious and almost exwe had affected and ridiculous sentimentalism-plots haustless source of amusement, as innocent as it is utterly absurd or pernicious-and stories of love and delightful. He revived the glories of past ages; honour so maudlin in conception and drivelling in illustrated the landscape and the history of his execution, that it is surprising they could ever have native country; painted the triumphs of patriotismi been tolerated even by the most defective moral and virtue, and the meanness and misery of vice; sense or taste. The circulating libraries in town and awakened our best and kindliest feelings in favour country swarmed with these worthless productions of suffering and erring humanity-of the low-born (known from their place of publication by the mis- and the persecuted, the peasant, the beggar, and the nomer of the Minerva Press' novels); but their Jew; he has furnished an intellectual banquet, as perusal was in a great measure confined to young rich as it is various and picturesque, from his curipeople of both sexes of imperfect education, or to ous learning, extensive observation, forgotten manhalf-idle inquisitive persons, whose avidity for ex- ners, and decaying superstitions-the whole embelcitement was not restrained by delicacy or judgment. lished with the lights of a vivid imagination, and a In many cases, even in the humblest walks of life, correct and gracefully regulated taste. In the numthis love of novel-reading amounted to a passion as ber and variety of his conceptions and characters, strong and uncontrollable as that of dram-drinking; | Scott is entitled to take his seat beside the greatest masters of fiction, British or foreign. Some have excelled him in particular qualities of the novelist, but none in their harmonious and rich combination. We had now a new race of imitators, aiming at a high standard of excellence, both as respects the design and the execution of their works. The peculiarities of Scottish manners in humble life, which Scott had illustrated in his early novels, were successfully developed by Galt, and in a more tender and imaginative light by Wilson. Galt, indeed, has high merit as a minute painter: his delineations, like those of Allan Ramsay, bring home to his countrymen traits of undefinable expression, which had escaped every eye but that of familiar affection.' His pathos is the simple grief of nature. In this painting of national manners, Scott's example was allpotent. From Scotland it spread to Ireland. Miss Edgeworth, indeed, had previously portrayed the lights and shades of the Irish character, and in this respect was the preceptress of Scott. But with all her talent and penetration, this excellent authoress can scarcely be said to have reached the heart of her subject, and she stirred up no enthusiasm among her countrymen. Miss Edgeworth pursued her high vocation as a moral teacher. Miss Owenson, who had, as early as 1807, published her Wild Irish Girl, continued (as Lady Morgan) her striking and humorous pictures of Irish society, and they were afterwards greatly surpassed by Banim, Griffin, Lover, Carleton, and others. The whole soil of Ireland, and its races of people, have been laid open, like a new world, to the general reader. English history was in like manner ransacked for materials for fiction. Scott had shown how much could be done in this department by gathering up the scattered fragments of antiquarian research, or entering with the spirit and skill of genius into the manners and events of a bygone age. He had vivified and embodied-not described the past. Many authors have followed in his train-Mr Horace Smith, Mr James, Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer, Ainsworth, and other men of talent and genius. Classic and foreign manners were also depicted. The Valerius of Lockhart is an exquisite Roman story; Morier and Fraser have familiarised us with the domestic life of Persia; Mr Hope, in his Anastasius, has drawn the scenery and manners of Italy, Greece, and Turkey, with the fidelity and minuteness of a native artist, and the impassioned beauty of a poet; while the character and magnificent natural features of America-its trackless forests, lakes, wild Indian tribes, and antique settlers have been depicted by its gifted sons, Irving and Cooper. All these may be said to have been prompted by the national and historical romances of Scott. The current of imagination and description had been turned from verse to prose. The stage also caught the enthusiasm; and the tales which had charmed in the closet were reproduced, with scenic effect, in our theatres. The fashionable novels of Theodore Hook formed a new feature in modern fiction. His first series of Sayings and Doings appeared in 1824, and attracted considerable attention. The principal object of these clever tales was to describe manners in high-life, and the ridiculous and awkward assumption of them by citizens and persons in the middle ranks. As the author advanced in his career, he extended his canvass, and sketched a greater variety of scenes and figures. Their general character, however, remained the same: too much importance was, in all of them, attached to the mere externals of social intercourse, as if the use of the silver fork,' or the etiquette of the drawing-room, were the be-all and the end-all' of English society. The life of the accomplished author gives a sad and moral interest to his tales. He obtained the distinction he coveted, in the notice and favour of the great and the fashionable world; for this he sacrificed the fruits of his industry and the independence of genius; he lived in a round of distraction and gaiety, illuminated by his wit and talents, and he died a premature death, the victim of disappointment, debt, and misery. This personal example is the true handwriting on the wall,' to warn genius and integrity in the middle classes against hunting after or copying the vices of fashionable dissipation and splendour! Mr Ward, Lord Normanby, Mrs Trollope, Lady Blessington, and others, followed up these tales of high-life with perfect knowledge of the subject, wit, refinement, and sarcasm, but certainly with less vigour and less real knowledge of mankind than Theodore Hook. Bulwer imparted to it the novelty and attraction of strong contrast, by conducting his fashionable characters into the purlieus of vice and slang society, which also in its turn became the rage, and provoked initation. 'Dandies' and highwaymen were painted en beau, and the Newgate Calendar was rifled for heroes to figure in the novel and on the stage. This unnatural absurdity soon palled upon the public taste, and Bulwer did justice to his high and undoubted talents by his historical and more legitimate romances. Among the most original of our living novelists should be included Captain Marryat, the parent, in his own person and in that of others, of a long progeny of nautical tales and sketches. The last and, next to Scott, the greatest of modern writers of fiction, is Mr Charles Dickens, who also deals with low-life and national peculiarities, espe cially such as spring up in the streets and resorts of crowded cities. The varied surface of English society, in the ordinary and middle ranks, has afforded this close observer and humorist a rich harvest of characters, scenes, and adventures-of follies, oddities, vices, and frailties, of which he has made a copious and happy use. In comic humour, blended with tenderness and pathos, and united to unrivalled powers of observation and description, Dickens has no equal among his contemporaries; and as a painter of actual life, he seems to be the most genuine Eng lish novelist we have had since Fielding. His faults lie upon the surface. Like Bulwer, he delights in strong colouring and contrasts-the melodrame of fiction-and is too prone to caricature. The artist, delighting in the exhibition of his skill, is apparent in many of his scenes, where probability and nature are sacrificed for effect. But there is a spirit of goodness' at the heart of all Dickens's stories, and a felicitous humour and fancy, which are unknown to Bulwer and his other rivals. His vivid pictures of those poor in-door sufferers in populous city pent' have directed sympathy to the obscure dwellers in lanes and alleys, and may prove the precursor of practical amelioration. He has made fiction the handmaid of humanity and benevolence, without losing its companionship with wit and laughter, The hearty cordiality of his mirth, his warm and kindly feelings, alive to whatever interests or amuses others, and the undisguised pleasure, ‘brinming o'er,' with which he enters upon every scene of humble city-life and family affection, make us in love with human nature in situations and under cir cumstances rarely penetrated by the light of imagi nation. He is a sort of discoverer in the moral world, and has found an El Dorado in the outskirts and byways of humanity where previous explorers saw little but dirt and ashes, and could not gather a single flower. This is the triumph of genius, as bene ficial as it is brilliant and irresistible. It will be remarked that a large proportion of the admiral; the second son, Charles Burney, became a celebrated Greek scholar; both the daughters were novelists.* Fanny was long held to be a sort of prodigy. At eight years of age she did not even know her letters, but she was shrewd and observant. At fifteen she had written several tales, was a great reader, and even a critic. Her authorship was continued in secret, her sister only being aware novelists of this period are ladies. There are some things,' says a periodical critic, which women do better than men, and of these, perhaps, novel-writing is one. Naturally endowed with greater delicacy of taste and feeling, with a moral sense not blunted and debased by those contaminations to which men are exposed, leading lives rather of observation than of action, with leisure to attend to the minutiae of conduct and more subtle developments of character, they are peculiarly qualified for the task of exhibiting faithfully and pleasingly the various phases of domestic life, and those varieties which chequer the surface of society. Accordingly, their delineations, though perhaps less vigorous than those afforded by the other sex, are distinguished, for the most part, by greater fidelity and consistency, a more refined and happy discrimination, and, we must also add, a more correct estimate of right and wrong. In works which come from a female pen, we are seldom offended by those moral monstrosities, those fantastic perversions of principle, which are too often to be met with in the fictions which have been written by men. Women are less stilted in their style; they are more content to describe naturally what they have observed, without attempting the introduction of those extraneous ornaments which are sometimes sought at the expense of truth. They are less ambitious, and are therefore more just; they are far more exempt from that prevailing literary vice of the present day, exaggeration, and have not taken their stand among the feverish followers of what may be called the intense style of writing; a style much praised by those who inquire only if a work is calculated to make a strong impression, and omit entirely the more important question, whether that impression be founded on truth or on delusion. Hence the agonies and convulsions, and dreamy rhapsodies, and heated exhibitions of stormy passions, in which several of our writers have lately of the circumstance. In this way, it is said, she indulged. Imagination has been flattered into a self- had composed 'Evelina' when she was only sevensufficient abandonment of its alliance with judgment, teen. The novel, however, was not published till to which disunion it is ever least prone where it has January 1778, when little Fanny' was in her most real power; and" fine creations" (well so called, twenty-sixth year; and the wonderful precocity of as being unlike anything previously existing in na-Miss in her teens' may be dismissed as at least ture) have been lauded, in spite of their internal doubtful. The work was offered to Dodsley the falsity, as if they were of more value than the most publisher, but rejected, as the worthy bibliopole accurate delineations of that world which we see declined looking at anything anonymous.' Anaround us." other bookseller, named Lowndes, agreed to publish it, and gave £20 for the manuscript. Evelina, or a Young Lady's Entrance into the World, soon became the talk of the town. Dr Burney, in the fulness of his heart, told Mrs Thrale that our Fanny' was the author, and Dr Johnson protested to Mrs Thrale that there were passages in it which might do honour to Richardson! Miss Burney was invited to Streatham, the country residence of the Thrales, and there she met Johnson and his illustrious band of friends, of whom we have ample notices in the Diary. Wherever she went, to London, Bath, or Tunbridge, 'Evelina' was the theme of praise, and Miss Burney the happiest of authors. In 1782 appeared her second work, Cecilia,' which is more highly finished than 'Evelina,' but less rich in comic characters and dialogue. Miss Burney having gone to reside for a short time with Mrs Delany, a venerable lady, the friend of Swift, once connected with FRANCES BURNEY (MADAME D'ARBLAY). FRANCES BURNEY, authoress of Evelina and Cecilia, was the wonder and delight of the generation of novel readers succeeding that of Fielding and Smollett, and she has maintained her popularity better than most secondary writers of fiction. Her name has been lately revived by the publication of her Diary and Letters, containing some clever sketches of society and manners, notices of the court of George III., and anecdotes of Johnson, Burke, Reynolds, &c. Miss Burney was the second daughter of Dr Burney, author of the History of Music. She was born at Lynn-Regis, in the county of Norfolk, on the 13th of June 1752. Her father was organist in Lynn, but in 1760 he removed to London (where he had previously resided), and numbered among his familiar friends and visitors David Garrick, Sir Robert Strange the engraver, the poets Mason and Armstrong, Barry the painter, and other persons distinguished in art and literature. Such society must have had a highly beneficial effect on his family, and accordingly we find they all made themselves distinguished: one son rose to be an * Edinburgh Review for 1830. Frances Burney. * Rear-Admiral James Burney accompanied Captain Cook in two of his voyages, and was author of a History of Voyages of Discovery, 5 vols. quarto, and an Account of the Russian Eastern Voyages. He died in 1820. Dr Charles Burney wrote several critical works on the Greek classics, was a prebendary of Lincoln, and one of the king's chaplains. After his death, in 1817, the valuable library of this great scholar was pur chased by government for the British Museum. love scenes are prosaic enough, but in showing [A Game of Highway Robbery.] When we had been out near two hours, and expected While she was reading it, he rode round to the other window, and, making a sign for secrecy, put into my hand a slip of paper on which was written, Whatever happens, be not alarmed, for you are safe, though you endanger all mankind!' I readily imagined that Sir Clement must be the author of this note, which prepared me to expect some disagreeable adventure: but I had no time to pender upon it, for Madame Duval had no sooner read her claimed, Why, now, what a thing is this; here we're own letter, than, in an angry tone of voice, she excome all this way for nothing!' the court, and who now lived on a pension from their majesties at Windsor, was introduced to the king and queen, and speedily became a favourite. The result was, that in 1786 our authoress was appointed second keeper of the robes to Queen Charlotte, with a salary of £200 a-year, a footman, apartments in the palace, and a coach between her and her colleague. The situation was only a sort of splendid slavery. I was averse to the union,' said Miss Burney, and I endeavoured to escape it; but my friends interfered-they prevailed-and the knot is tied.' The queen appears to have been a kind and considerate mistress; but the stiff etiquette and formality of the court, and the unremitting attention which its irksome duties required, rendered the situation peculiarly disagreeable to one who had been so long flattered and courted by the brilliant society of her day. Her colleague, Mrs Schwellenberg, a coarse-minded, jealous, disagreeable German favourite, was also a perpetual source of annoyance to her; and poor Fanny at court was worse off than her heroine Cecilia was in choosing among her guardians. Her first official duty was to mix the queen's snuff, and keep her box always replenished, after which she was promoted to the great business of the toilet, helping her majesty off and on with her dresses, and being in strict attendance from six or seven in the morning till twelve at night! From this grinding and intolerable destiny Miss Burney was emancipated by her marriage, in 1793, with a French refugee officer, the Count D'Arblay. She then resumed her pen, and in 1795 produced a tragedy, entitled Edwin and Elgitha, which was brought out at Drury Lane, and possessed at least one novelty-there were three bishops among the dramatis persona. Mrs Siddons personated the heroine, but in the dying scene, where the lady is brought from behind a hedge to expire before the audience, and is afterwards carried once more to the back of the hedge, the house was convulsed with laughter! Her next effort was her novel of Camilla, which she published by subscription, and realised by it no less than three thousand guineas. In 1802 Madame D'Arblay accompanied her husband to Paris. The count joined the army of Napoleon, and his wife was forced to remain in France till 1812, when she returned and purchased, from the proceeds of her novel, a small but handsome villa, named Camilla Cottage. Her success in prose fiction urged her to another trial, and in 1814 she produced The Wanderer, a tedious tale in five volumes, which had no other merit than that of bringing the authoress the large sum of £1500. The only other literary labour of Madame D'Arblay was a memoir of her father, Dr Burney, published in 1832. Her husband and her son (the Rev. A. 'I think we should turn to the left,' said the foot- 1 D'Arblay of Camden Town chapel, near London) both predeceased her-the former in 1818, and the To the left!' answered the other; 'No, no; I'm latter in 1837. Three years after this last melan-pretty sure we should turn to the right.' choly bereavement, Madame D'Arblay herself paid the debt of nature, dying at Bath in January 1840, at the great age of eighty-eight. Her Diary and Letters, edited by her niece, were published in 1842 in five volumes. If judiciously condensed, this work would have been both entertaining and valuable; but at least one half of it is filled with small unimportant details and private gossip, and the self-ad-terbury; we had best go straight on.' miring weakness of the authoress shines out in almost every page. The early novels of Miss Burney form the most pleasing memorials of her name and history. In them we see her quick in discernment, lively in invention, and inimitable, in her own way, in portraying the humours and oddities of English society. Her good sense and correct feeling are more remarkable than her passion. Her she need not trouble herself to go to Mr Tyrell's, as quietly for near an hour that I began to flatter my- Why, I ain't sure,' said the coachman; but I'm afraid we turned wrong.' 'What do you mean by that, sirrah?' said Madame Duval; why, if you lose your way, we shall be all in the dark.' man. "You had better make some inquiry,' said I. 'Let's try this road,' said the footman. Why, that's the direct London road,' returned 'Pardie,' cried Madame Duval; why, they wont go one way nor t'other; and, now we're come ail this jaunt for nothing, I suppose we shan't get home to night.' 'Let's go back to the public-house,' said the footman, and ask for a guide.' 6 |