followed the carriage, and afterwards had conducted his master to the convent. The old soldier resolved to storm the convent that very night, and to rescue the daughters of Marshal Simon. The author gives a long account of this midnight expedition, but interrupts his narration in the middle, without any cause, only leaving us reason to think that the attempt was unsuccessful. Then follows the history of General Simon, after his expulsion from Poland. Hatred of the English, is also, as it appears, a requisite in novels, as well as in parliamentary harangues, and in the leading articles of the newspapers. General Simon labours under an incurable Anglophobia, ever since the battle of Waterloo; and, in order to take his revenge, he repairs to India, and offers his services to the king of Mondi (a kingdom of the creation of M. Eugene Sue), against the British invaders. Of course, his services are accepted, and the general has the gratification of exhibiting his courage and military genius, on many occasions. We have room only for the beginning of one of his bulletins addressed to his wife :-'I have already mentioned the two good days we have had this month. The troops of my old friend, the Indian prince, under European discipline, have effected wonders. We routed the English, and they were obliged to abandon a part of the unfortunate country invaded by them, without law and justice, which they continue to ravage without pity, for this is English warfare. A few days after this success, however, the English, in their turn, routed the army, so well disciplined; the old king was made a prisoner, and deprived of his crown. His son, Djalma, and the general, both badly wounded, succeeded, however, in making their escape, and in reaching Batavia.

Djalma, as we have already seen, was one of the Rennepont family, and the Jesuits determined to prevent his being present in Paris, had beforehand commissioned their agents in the Dutch colony, to get rid of this obnoxious claimant. They found no other means than to apply to some Thugs (stranglers), who had taken refuge in the island, and whose operations are related at length. One of them succeeded in tattooing on the arm of the young prince, while he was in a profound sleep, the signs, which, according to our author, distinguish the Indian murderers. He afterwards enticed him into a cave, where three or four of them had fixed their residence, and where he was arrested with them, and, as evidently one of them, by orders from the governor, and put into a dungeon, where our author leaves him, until, on a sudden, we find him on board the second ship, the Black Eagle, wrecked on the coast of Picardy, which ship sailing from Alexandria to Portsmouth, through the straits of Gibralter, had touched the Azores !'

Gabriel, the young priest, was on board the same vessel, on his return from America. His doings in the new world are not related in the novel. The only thing we find concerning his career as a missionary, is, that some of the savages he endeavoured to convert to Christianity, had crucified him. How his life was preserved, we have no means of ascertaining; but he not only was saved, but also, in the shipwreck on the coast of France, succeeded in saving Blanche and Rose from a watery grave. This young priest, though the Jesuits had discovered his lineage, was a sort of foundling, whom the wife of the old soldier Dagobert, although very poor, and having a son of her own, had reared up from his infancy, until her confessor placed him in a clerical school, to make a priest of him, in spite of himself, and a Jesuit beside. In the last chapters of the published part of the work, Gabriel, disgusted with the doings of his superiors, and convinced of their treachery, determines to leave the society; and, in order to obtain his release from the obligations of his vows, transfers on the provincial, d'Aigrigny, all his rights to the property of Rennepont, without knowing its amount; which inconsiderate bargain he, of course, deeply regrets, when he hears from Dagobert, and his adoptive mother, that, by it, he had deprived Rose and Blanche, and some other claimants, of their legitimate share in the property.

Mademoiselle Adrienne de Rennepont de Cardoville's history is, in some sort, the most curious of all. This young lady, of an eccentric and fanciful character, is the realization of the femme libre of the St. Simonists. Endowed with a supreme contempt for superannuated notions of propriety, and for public opinion, she does what she pleases, and in what manner soever she pleases; taking care, however, to do nothing as any body else. Her dress, her habits, her tastes, are all complacently portrayed; and probably, at this present moment, many musical French ladies of fashion, in imitation of this heroine, blow the French-horn on a golden instrument. Adrienne, though not of age, yet having lost both her father and mother, is allowed by her aunt, the Princess of St. Dizier, to live as she likes, and to expend her income as she choses; so that she might, in the shortest time possible, qualify herself for a residence in a mad-house, or at the least, afford a pretence for inflicting that seclusion upon the thoughtless girl. Her lost lap-dog is found by Agricola, a blacksmith, the son of Dagobert, who, seeing the name of the owner on the collar, takes the spaniel to her mistress. She immediately offers a handsome reward in money, which is unhesitatingly refused with an air of such dignity, that the young lady, begging his pardon, presents him with a most beautiful and odoriferous camelia, lying upon the table, promising at the

same time that, in any circumstance, he might apply to her, and rely upon her best services. The very next day Agricola was in need of her good offices. Our blacksmith was at the same time a poet, and composed popular songs. France is not now governed by Mazarin, who used to say of the satiric songs composed against himself: 'It matters little if they sing and laugh, since they pay. At present the French people pay, they do not laugh; and if they sing, it is at great peril to themselves. Such was the case with Agricola. One of his songs was seized by the police, in the room of another mechanic implicated in some plots against the government, concocted by a secret association. The songster was immediately made an accomplice, and orders to arrest him were issued. Under such circumstances, and aware of the impending danger, Agricola repaired to the hotel of Miss Adrienne, who secreted him in a closet near her apartment, until she could obtain the revocation of the warrant. Unfortunately the blacksmith had been followed by the officers, who discovered his place of retreat, from whence they took him to a prison, while his fair protectress was driven to a private lunatic asylum, by the false friend whom she had requested to accompany her to the residence of a minister, to whom she intended to apply in favour of the mechanic.

In connection with the history of Adrienne, we have that of the Princess of St. Dizier, and of the Marquis-Abbé d'Aigrigny. We cannot pollute our pages with even an outline of the scenes of depravity which are exhibited in this portion of the work, and, for the same reason, we forbear from entering into the particulars of the reckless career of James Rennepont the mechanic, and another claimant to the property. Numerous chapters are devoted to the illustration of the abandoned life of this man, and of his queen of the revels,' and we confess that disgust compelled us to turn over many pages.

There is scarcely anything concerning M. Hardy the manufacturer, and the last of the claimants, with the exception of some hints, on the part of the Jesuits, to get him out of their way, on the 13th of February, and to undermine his credit and reduce him to insolvency, by any means in their power, as the only commensurate atonement for the uprightness of his principles and of his conduct, for his patriotism, and his hatred of their society, as much as on account of his being entitled to the property which they coveted.

Around all these personages group many others, too numerous to be mentioned, whose history and doings are equally recorded, so that the principals are generally lost sight of. Such, however, is the poverty of the author's imagination, wild and mad as it is, that the already bulky volumes he has pub

lished of this novel, would be reduced to a common sized octavo of three hundred pages, if he had not, in the catch-penny fashion, swollen the matter by the description of every one of his personages, of the localities, and of the most insignificant circumstances. Sun risings and sun settings are in abundance. Moonlights and stormy nights occur every two or three chapters, without much variety in their characteristics, however different the climate. Every room, every part of the furniture is described, as well as the posture of the actors in the scenes. When we say described, we do not use the proper word, for the description of the author generally does not resemble anything that has ever been seen. Countries, localities, national manners, history, natural phenomena; in one word, every thing is boldly set at defiance, by the descriptive system of Eugène Sue.

In order to enable our English readers to form an opinion of the merits of Eugène Sue, in this respect, we beg leave to say a few words of another of his novels, in which he describes the manners of England. In his 'Godolphin Arabian' the principal events take place in England. It is no longer the old soldier, with his horse of the imperial guard, and his dog, but a mute Arab, Agba, with his horse Sham, and his cat Grimalkin, (animals always play a great part in Eugène Sue's novels). A rich quaker had picked them all up in some street in Paris, and brought them all home, to his country residence, Buryhall, on the banks of the Thames,' for the only purpose of making them comfortable and happy. The good-natured quaker was baffled in his designs, by the obstinacy of the horse, which would allow nobody to ride him, except his master and friend, Agba. The quaker tried, and was thrown; which misdemeanor on the part of the animal he generously overlooked. All his servants were treated in the same manner, and did not shew the same forgiving disposition, but they dared not manifest their resentment too openly. Unfortunately, a reverend clergyman, Dr. Harrison, who had married the only daughter of the kind-hearted quaker!! -and who was proud of his own equestrian abilities, attempted to ride the insubordinate beast, and with no better success than his predecessors. The quaker could no longer bear with the restive spirit of the arabian stallion, and summoned Agba before a sort of court martial, composed of himself, his daughter, Dr. Harrison, and his friend the landlord of the Crowned Lion, the principal public-house of the village. The sentence passed unanimously was, that 'Sham should be sold;' and it was carried into execution. As the companionship of Agba with his horse was considered the principal cause of the stubbornness of the animal, it was determined that they should be parted, and the horse was taken to London, where every means were employed to tame it.

But Agba, who could not live happy without his friend, went to town to see it, and being constantly refused admittance, resolved to escalade the house and the stables, during the night, just as Dagobert, in the Wandering Jew,' escaladed the convent to rescue Rose and Blanche, but with no better success. Nay, even more, his failure was attended with worse consequences; for he was taken as a burglar, and sent to Newgate, where, two or three days after his imprisonment, in a fit of despair, he was going to hang himself, when he was providentially saved by the visit paid at the prison by Lady Sarah Jennings, the widow of the great Duke of Marlborough, attended by her eldest son, Lord Godolphin!! The doings of the lady, and the gross language of her son, are in keeping with the strange notions just exhibited of the English manners, and of our aristocratic families. Is is with the same knowledge and the same accuracy that our author describes, in the 'Wandering Jew,' the habits and manners of the several countries to which he chooses to transport his personages.

On reaching the end of the published part of this equally disgusting and absurd publication, we entertained some hope that the author had exhausted his store of filthy reminiscences, and that the continuation of the work would be comparatively free from the demoralising pictures which fill the first part; but we were soon disappointed. Eugene Sue takes great care to stimulate the depraved appetite of his readers, by promising something still more abominable than that on which he had hitherto fed them. All the events related in the first part were the produce of the combinations of the profligate Marquess Abbé d'Aigrigny, and as they had not succeeded in obtaining the desired results, his successor in the management of the plot, Rodin, convinced that the failure is owing only to the scruples of his late unprincipled master, reproaches him for his want of skill and determination, and expounds his own plans in the following terms:

'You have had recourse to rough and physical measures, instead of acting upon noble, generous, and elevated feelings, which, when united, offer an invincible phalanx; but divided, may successively be overcome by surprise, seduction, artifice, or by any other common mode of attack. Now do you understand me? ... Did any one ever die from despair? Will not gratitude and happy love lead to the very limits of insane generosity? Are there not some deceptions so horrible, that suicide is the only refuge against these dreadful realities? May not an excess of sensuality lead to the tomb, by a slow and voluptuous agony? Are there, in human life, some circumstances so terrible, as to bring the most worldly, the most strongminded, nay, even the most impious characters, blindly to throw