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We shall not enter into the defence of the illegal and arbitrary acts-the usurpation, or the alleged ambition of Cromwell. The Protector's own pithy explanation is, we conceive, enough; "while Parliament deliberated, the nation would have had its throat cut." He stepped in, though unlawfully, and saved England from so fatal a catastrophe; and this is his brief yet ample vindication.

A few sentences from the summary of the Protector's character, which follows a long account of his deathbed, will serve to show what the author's opinions are, and whether the reader may concur in them all or not.

"It is seldom that a great man is a Christian; but Cromwell was both. The result has been, that men of the world have scouted him as a hypocrite.

"What most distinguishes Cromwell above all great men, and especially above all statesmen, is the predominance in him-not only in his person, but also in his government-of the evangelical and christian element. He thought that the political and national greatness of Britain could not be established in a firm manner, unless the pure Gospel was communicated to the people, and unless a truly christian life flowed through the veins of the

nation.

"Although in the bosom of Protestant nations evangelical Christianity is far from having reached the perfection it ought to possess: it is sufficient to compare these nations with others, in order to perceive that such is, in general, the effect of those principles of which Oliver was one of the most eminent advocates. In Great Britain and Spain we have a signal illustration of this truth.

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"If Cromwell salutes the English nation, as a very great people-the best people in the world'—it is because they are a people that have the highest and clearest profession among them of the greatest glory, namely Religion.' If some who desire to have horse-races, cock-fightings, and the like,' say, They in France are so and so!' Oliver replies: Ilave they the Gospel as we have? They have seen the sun but a little. We have great lights!...... He declares what has been the principal means employed by him to effect the good of the British nation: I have been seeking of God-from the great God-a blessing upon you (the parliament), and upon these nations.' In his closet alone, and on his knees, he wrestled with God to promote the good of his people. One cause was with him superior to all the political interests of his people-the cause of Christ!"

For some occult reason of climate, latitude, or local boundary, Dr. Merle D'Aubigné, singularly enough, considers Presbyterianism quite unsuited to England, and imagines that what had once very nearly been the established religion of that country can never again take root, or thrive on the south side of the Tweed. Nor does he seem, in the abstract, greatly to admire the Presbyterian form, though, from particular circumstances, he is at present more disposed to fraternize with the Free Church, which holds by the principle of Establishment, than with the Scottish Voluntaries, who approach more closely to his own opinions on Church government, and of the many evils necessarily attending the alliance of Church and State. He certainly pays no compliments to our Covenanting ancestors, at the expense of historical truth. Charles I. had flattered himself that the quarrels of his enemies, the Puritans and Presbyterians, would lead them to extirpate each other, but this hope failing, he rather

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leaned to the Puritans, who had the English army with them, than to the Presbyterians, who were bound by their covenant to extirpate Episcopacy," while the Puritans i. e. Independents, believed, that if the Presbyterians got the upper hand " they would tyrannize over conscience as much as the bishops themselves had done." And our author does not consider this alarm groundless, when he roundly asserts.

In fact the presbyterians, whenever they offered to treat with the king, always proposed that steps should be taken to suppress the Independent opinions, as well as those of other sectaries."

In the famous manifesto of the Parliamentary Army, a principal point insisted upon was ligious liberty."

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The independents consented that the presbyterian religion should be the religion of the nation, thus granting to the latter body a superiority over their own party; but they claimed for all Christians the full enjoyment of civil and religious rights. This, says Lord Clarendon, was their great charter, and they were determined not to lay down their arms until they had obtained it. The independents had shed their blood for parliament in maintaining the liberties of England, and they thought it strange they should be allowed no other liberty than that of expatriation. The presbyterians in the English Revolution represented, generally, order, moderation, and respect for the Constitution; but the independents, it must be acknowledged, knew much better than they the great principles of religious liberty. If we call to mind the manner in which presbyterianism afterwards vanished from England, leaving behind it only a small number of Unitarian congregations, we cannot help thinking that some bad principle must have crept into this party. Scotland is the true country for this system of church constitution, which has never been able to maintain its footing on the south of the Tweed.”

This ill adaptation of the south to the Presbyterian form-which is elsewhere termed an "exotic" in England-appears a remarkable fact, though it must not hold true at all times, as in a corrective foot-note we are informed that "a young Presbyterian Church in England, professing the principles of the Free Church," is taking root in the ungenial southern soil, and is already, in numerous congregations, "bringing forth fair fruits." We had always understood that the various bodies of Scottish Presbyterian Dissenters, now known as the United Secession Church of Scotland, had many vigorous and thriving off-sets in the south long before the Free Church came into existence. But this is an error into which a foreign writer may easily fall, and along with others it may be corrected in that narrative of his travels in Britain which Dr. Merle D'Aubigné announces, and which will probably be a work of greater temporary interest than the present hasty volume, from the freshness of its facts and the imposing array of contemporary proper names. We have seen the original manuscript of part of this work, and found it highly interesting, though, like the present, in which D'Aubigné draws evidently from Neale's "History of the Puritans," not always a fair historical work; it is sometimes inaccurate in matters of detail.

No one at all conversant with the history of Cromwell and his Times can consider the present work either as an original, philosophic, and impartial treatise, or a searching and well-digested

and at the same time candid among them, must possess better means or opportunities of comprehending the exact degree of danger to be apprehended from the spread or ascendancy of Popery in Britain than the Genevese Divine, we would hope that profiting by the lessons of freedom of religious opinion given by Cromwell, and exercising their own understandings, they will surmount all idle terrors of either the Pope or Mr. If the soil and air of England can

historical and biographical narrative; and it might with far greater propriety and effect, we should think, have appeared in France or Geneva than in this country. Yet it is adapted to a large class of readers among us who consider Dr. Merle D'Aubigné a high authority, and who might never have been induced to look into a better book upon the same subject, if wanting the stamp of a popular religious name. What we have ventured to deprecate as its great leading fault-Newman. its attempt farther to arouse the already active not foster, as Dr. Merle D'Aubigné thinks, Presand embittered spirit of religious animosity in byterianism, much less are they favourable to these islands-some of its readers will consider Romanism. its chief merit. But as all who are intelligent,

I LISTEN to my heart at times

Until I hear it beat;

ECHOES.

BY CALDER CAMPBELL.

And then methinks it rings and rhymes
In symphony complete:

A music, born of pulse and vein,

And fever in the blood.

How awful is this human strain!
How little understood!

If art could teach the Man of Art

To tell, by such vague sounds,

The thoughts that rush from brain to heart,
As through wild woods mad hounds-

I would not let one loved one's ear
Press fondly on my breast,

Lest that which fills my soul with fear
Should thence be heard or guess'd.

The tongue may tell its tale of truth
To loveful, pitying ears,

And Age confess its sins of youth,
With eyes that weep no tears;
But each, and all of us, have that
Within us we would hide

From even the tenderest friend e'er sat

In kindness at our side.

The birds within the forest sing
Till Echoes-all around-
Repeat such melodies as bring

A balm on each glad sound:

The leaves that fall, in falling breathe
Out music-and the breeze
Wakes cadences that sweetly wreathe
Song-garlands o'er the trees:-

The sea sends music to the shore,
And Echo gathers all

Those different harmonies, till o'er
The world in song they fall;

But human hearts, whose throbs are rife
With joy, and grief, and pain-
What are their echoes? Mortal life
Shall hear them-but in vain!

Enough to know, our hearts lock up
Such thoughts as-were they told-
Might bitter make Love's sweetest cup
And mar its brightest gold!

We seek for sympathy 'mongst men,
But, when we find it, know
It soothes us for our lesser ills,
Not for our greater woe.

That greater woe within us dwells,
Known but to God and us,
We dare not ope the secret cells
Where we enclose it thus:-

And so I listen to my heart,

At times when all is still,

And think it well Art hath no art
To syllable cach thrill.

And thus I pine for sympathy,

And tell my lesser woes;

Still meeting kind and patient friends

To pity me for those:

For just as music on the wind,

Or murmur on the flood,

Echoes there are amidst mankind
As well as in the wood!

A MONUMENTAL FIGURE IN A CHURCH.

EVER kneeling, ever praying,

'Neath thy canopy of stone

Ever mouldering, ever graying,

Ages thou hast dwelt alone. Stony Image! Knight or Lady

For I know not what thou wastTime hangs o'er with wing so shady,

That thy very sex is lost. Shield and scutcheon in their places

Might be carved around thy tomb,
But of these there are no traces,

Here there rests an equal gloom.
Crest or trophy might have granted
Tidings that I fain would know;
Name and fame alike are wanted,

And unanswered I must go.

Clifford, Nevile, Fane, or Percy,

Whatsoe'er thy rank or line, Needing, like the humblest, mercy—

Like the weakest, help divine,

Were thy sins so great and grievous,

Thou should'st pray through all the past?

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THE LATE ROBERT MACKENZIE DANIEL.

THE late Mr. Robert Mackenzie Daniel, author of the | viands for the intellectual palate, he resembled the hardYoung Widow," the "Scottish Heiress," and other working labourer, who, returning from his day's labopopular works of fiction, was best known to general rious toil, devours his evening's meal without questioning readers, through his soubriquet of the "Scottish Boz." its quality, On quitting Aberdeen, he removed to EdinWe think it was the Literary Gazette which first desig-burgh, from the desire of his friends that he should now nated Mr. Daniel by that title; and from its aptness, as indicating the peculiar quality of his talents, it was at once adopted aud received as just, by the general reading public. Not that his style was in anything akin to that of the distinguished author of "Pickwick," for never, perhaps, in that respect alone, did two authors differ more widely than the "Scottish Boz," and the original "Boz," but rather that the name being already in the market, as the head of a class of literature, original in the real sense of the term, and distinctive for the deep and varied acquaintance with human life which it displayed, it appeared to the mind of the critic, the most aptly descriptive of an author, who, without possessing attributes of genius at all comparable to Dickens, yet owned, in common with his great prototype, the quality of treating the subjects which he chose as the groundworks of his novels, in a manner truly original, and totally devoid of the violations of truth and nature, so characteristic of fashionable works of fiction. Mr. Daniel finished his career but a short time ago, and a posthumous production from his pen, entitled the "CARDINAL'S DAUGHTER," has just made its appearance. Sir Egerton Bridges remarks, that in perusing any literary work, the reader is always anxious to know something of its author-how he thought, how he spoke, and what were his habits; and if such curiosity is excited in the case of books in general, how much more so in the case of one whose author has ceased to exist before his hand was allowed to give the last polish to its pages, and whose final moments-his brain now torn and dismembered by the stern necessities of his position, a wife and children looking for that support, which his exertions were inadequate to supply, was enshrouded amid the clouds of dark insanity!

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Robert Mackenzie Daniel was born in Inverness-shire in the year 1814. His father was a small landed proprietor or laird, within a short distance of the county town, and Robert was the youngest child of a rather numerous family. His school education having been completed at Inverness, young Daniel was sent at the age of fifteen to Marischal College, Aberdeen. Here he remained for the space of three years diligently pursuing his studies, and though he was by no means what is generally styled an "arduous student," still the basis of general knowledge which he acquired was scarcely inferior, nay, perhaps, superior, to that which the utmost ardour in most other youths could have supplied. After years built a superstruction of information upon this basis surpassed but seldom. Even in boyhood there were few subjects of an intellectual nature in which he was not tolerably conversant; and a strong inclination to a desultory mode of study continued with him through life. Unlike most men who have their peculiar "hobby," instead of regarding merely one subject as worthy of particular attention, he ever "looked with appetite of keenest edge" upon everything alike. No epicure in the choice of

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direct his studies with a view to the bar, which was also
his own inclination at this period. In prosecution of
this object, he entered the office of a writer to the Signet,
at the same time attending the law classes of the Univer-
sity. His legal studies were pursued with unremitting
vigour, although he by no means neglected the cultivation
of his mind in other respects. For the space of several
sessions he was a constant attendant upon the prelections
of Professor Wilson, and had a strong taste for a literary
life deeply engendered in his mind by the illustrious ex-
ample he saw before him. After a residence of four
years at Edinburgh, Mr. Daniel began to abandon the
idea of following the profession of an advocate. Although
he had hitherto devoted himself to the study of Scottish
jurisprudence with zeal, his more matured thoughts, as
already hinted, at length began to manifest a decided
tendency to a literary occupation. Perhaps the resolu-
tion of abandoning the bar was confirmed by other
circumstances of even
a more pressing nature than
strong inclination towards a different mode of life.
The tardiness of success at the Scottish bar to any
bnt those of powerful connexion amongst writers or soli-
citors is proverbial. You are sure to meet with some
degree of success if you wait long enough for it, and this
probationary process of waiting must be gone through
according to the strictest letter of what the Scotch call
gentility." It was precisely the inability to find the
mcans to support this "gentility" which Mr. Daniel was
in want of. He looked before him, and beheld in the
vista of professional struggle long years of obscurity and
neglect. He bethought him that he might meet with suc-
cess as a literateur in London, and, accordingly, we find
him there in the latter part of 1836. His fate at first as
a literary man in the great metropolis, was similar to that
of most men at their outset he wrote for periodicals by
the dozen, but his communications were very often re-
jected. After a season of trial and vexation, he was for
a brief period engaged in connexion with the "Courier,"
a deceased evening paper. This situation he subsequently
exchanged for the editorship of the "Court Journal," on
the establishment of that weekly, which he conducted for
the space of two years. Of Mr. Daniel's ephemeral pro-
ductions, poetical and prose, we can take no account,
scattered as they are over numerous London magazines,
to which he in time found admission. His maiden novel
was the "Scottish Heiress," which was produced in 1842.
The marked success which attended this, his first con-
siderable attempt, encouraged its author to another effort
in the following year, and accordingly the "Grave-
digger'' appeared in 1843. His second production, how-
ever, was scarcely received with the same amount of
popular applause as his first, and it was always regarded
by its author as a failure. In 1844, Mr. Daniel having
recently married, removed from London to Jersey, hoping
that, amid the Elysian beauties of that ancient islet, he

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In estimating the merits of Mr. Daniel as an author, it would perhaps be untrue to say, that (although his pages are undoubtedly, in a remarkable degree, exempt from the usual sickly sentiment, and other nameless unnatural characteristics of the great mass of novels devoted, more or less, to the portraiture of fashionable life) he was the best and most skilful writer of his class. In dealing justice to the author of the "Young Widow," let us not be unjust to others who have pushed themselves into notoriety in the same field. Be it sufficient, therefore, to say of him in the laudatory strain, that he was a writer of great talents and great promise. His style of language, clear, copious, and severely adorned, was at all times calculated to express, in the noblest accents, the varied thoughts and emotions of his intellectual mind. The "Cardinal's Daughter," to which reference, as a posthumous work, has al

tation its author had already attained in one department of novel-writing, he was destined, had time and opportunity been permitted, to achieve fame loftier and more enduring in the higher historical walk.

"The

The Cardinal's Daughter" is the only work of Mr. Daniel of which the basis is taken from history. It is ushered in by a preface, to which we must make slight allusion, as it explains the reason for which (not to speak of the protracted illness and death of its lamented author), it had not received final corrections at his hands. The work was, in fact, written before his malady commenced, but its correction and publication had been delayed for some time, in order that he might, by editing Poor Cousin," introduce his wife to the notice of the public, probably, under the apprehension, "that in a short space she would be left to obtain, by her own exertions, for herself and children, that livelihood which, though at most severe sacrifices of mind and body, he had hitherto supplied." Happily, "The Poor Cousin" met with that success which its editor so anxiously desired, and the widow is now fairly embarked in the career from which the husband has just been removed. A new work is advertised as shortly to appear from her pen; and, from the ability evinced in her former production, we are justified in anticipating that the same meed of approval won by the first effort, will not be denied to the second.

might find that quiet and repose so requisite to continuous literary labour. There, in a short space of time, he produced the " Young Widow," which, from the universal favour with which it was greeted, at once placed its author in a distinguished position amongst popular novelists. He was now in regular demand at the circulating libraries-a work by the " Scottish Boz" was sure to command a sale, and he needed no longer indulge misgivings as to his prospect of success in that department of literature which he had adopted. His next effort was the "Young Baronet," which was fated to be the last published in its author's lifetime. It was published in November 1845, and fully supported the opinions which the best critics had already expressed of Mr. Daniel's talents. We have said that the subject of our notice retired to Jersey, in the hope of finding that quiet and repose, which continuous literary labour so necessarily re-ready been made, evinces that, notwithstanding the repuquires; and such enjoyments would have been his, had he kept aloof from extraneous pursuits by no means congenial to his mind. It happened, in an evil moment, that Mr. Daniel, in January 1845, accepted the editorship of a paper then started in Jersey, designated the Jersey Herald." In the small community of the Channel Islands, the tide of party politics runs to an inconceivable height; and any individual occupying the position of editor of a public Journal, is always regarded as the rightful devoted victim of personal abuse, from all who differ in opinion from that system of policy which he advocates. There are two political parties in Jersey-the Rose party, and the Laurel party. They are so called from the distinctive badge which the adherents of each respectively wear in their buttonholes on gala days. Their politics of course have nothing to do with the politics of England; but originate entirely within their own little circle. The Rose party may be regarded as the Whigs of the locality, and very illiberal Whigs they are the Laurel party may be called the Tories and, if there is a pin to choose between them, the latter are decidedly the more liberal of the two. Such is the virulence of party faction, and the personal danger to which an editor of a newspaper is exposed, that the luckless wight who occupies this distinguished position is obliged to be always armed, on the street and in his office, with a lifepreserver, or oaken cudgel, in order to be prepared against the anticipated attacks of those upon whose political escapades he has descanted in his columns. Mr. Daniel was the editor of a Rose paper, and the numerous nose-pullings and cudgellings of which he was the victim, at the hands of the Laurelites, embittered the existence of a man not adapted for, at least, that species of partying character therein. One Ralph Brandon, a purely strife. Mr. Daniel conducted the "Jersey Herald" till September, last year, when, immediately subsequent to Her Majesty's visit to the island, he was overtaken by a mental malady which, six months afterwards, resulted in his death. On the appearance of the malady in question -which, by the way, had for some time previously been foreshadowed by unequivocal symptoms-he was removed by his friends to England, where, notwithstanding the unabated exertion of the most eminent medical skill, his disease underwent no alteration for the better. The decay of his physical powers keeping pace with the daily increasing hopelessness of his mental recovery. Mr. Daniel, unconscious of every thing passing around him, gradually sunk, till at length his career terminated at the early age of thirty-three. His death took place in March last, in Bethlehem Hospital.

The "Cardinal," alluded to in the title, is Cardinal Wolsey, and the "Daughter" is Henriette, a nun, said to have been the offspring of that celebrated dignitary. Although the "Daughter" gives name to the work, yet the Cardinal himself is the most prominent and interest

fictitious character, is also introduced, and occupies a very important position among the actors in the drama. He is the Cardinal's secretary, and passionately in love with Henriette, whom, at the anticipated dissolution of the monasteries, he intends to marry. The chief interes of the story consists in the detail of the fresh obstacles the Cardinal every day devised to frustrate the ultimate designs of Brandon. The latter has imbibed the principles of the reformed faith, then rapidly gaining ground, and this difference of opinion from his master, furnishes the opportunity of numerous hits at the state of the Church at that period. Space, however, will not permit us to give even a hasty outline of the story, and the reader who is curious to learn the full details of the

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Cardinal's Daughter," must consult the work itself

The tale is artistically put together, and exhibits, on the part of its author, great power as a historical romancist.

"But the Cardinal

"Will fall with the Church which he madly upholds.' "And thou?'

"I will grieve for my lord, but rejoice that the hated rule of Rome is at an end-I will joy for thee, my loved one, but mourn for poor Katherine, banished from wedlock and a throne, at the caprice of a tyrant's will. "Ralph this is the heretic's creed.'

One would almost fancy that the writer who could adopt for the title of a work a name so peculiar as that before us, meant to make it a handle for exposing the immorality of one of the greatest men in former times. In this idea, however, he would be mistaken. Instead of "I reck not. The crimes of the Church are odious regarding Wolsey as, in any degree, unworthy of his voca- in the sight of God, and their rule is tyranny to man. tion as a priest, our author considers the priesthood as The splendour that decks their stately domes is purchased highly honoured, and illustrated by possessing him within with the orphan's bread-the rich lands that smile around them are shut against the poor man's kine-their learning its pale. Mr. Daniel is, in fact, the most unqualified ad- is cloistered as a precious thing, and their knowledge mirer of the butcher's son, we remember ever to have met serves but to bind with stronger shackles the consciences, with. He talks of "that glorious mind which had burst the thoughts, the mind, the bright immortal soul of man. like prisoned flame over difficulties which environed it, When a boy I cursed them. I longed to grapple with the men that threw a holy mantle over a heart of guile : they and snapped the iron chains which bound it to neglect are a load upon the land-England rots beneath their that lightning energy of character which had rendered sway-let the day come, I will be foremost to tear them him triumphant at home and abroad, feared by those who from their lofty seats-to bear the crafty secrets of their hated him, and respected by those who derided his birth; around the foot of power, and make merchandise of man's hallowed dens. I know them; they are hounds that whine and which had stamped upon the countenance of Wolsey, devotion to his God. There is a handwriting on the wall a character of greatness which no bearing could disguise."-this kingdom has departed from them, and the hearts Some writers have stigmatised the Cardinal, as one, who, like Richard the Third, possessed neither "love nor pity," and who, in order to gain his own personal ends, would hesitate at no means which craft or dishonesty could devise. Our author, on the contrary, avers, that "generous, vigorous, and lofty as his character was, tempestuous, and daring as his life had been, there were still elements of the richest affection in Wolsey's heart," and instead of falling in with the representations of those who describe him as avaricious, he advocates the old man's part by assuring us that "his nature was bountiful as the day." The following is the author's conception of the character of Brandon in conjunction with that of Wol

sey :

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They might have formed a study for a painter, Wolsey's bold expressive features now perfectly exposed -the noble forehead and curled grey hair-the large clear eyes, so full of fire, yet changeful as a woman's-the fine broad chest and manly air, which the guise of priesthood could not conceal, and the insignia of his dignity lying spurned, as it were, at his side-showed, or might have seemed to show, something of the trinity of his character -the judge, the statesman, and the priest while he wore upon his countenance a stamp of genius which also showed that he was fitted for them all. Brandon, too, had something in his aspect that made one look on it again. Deformed in person yet handsome in features, slightly built yet of a frame indicating strength and activity-young in years, and of an expression of countenance denoting impetuosity even to fierceness, there was yet blended with it a firmness and a haughty gravity, which, far from weakening the general effect, gave it a vigour and a character of determination eminently its own. Both knew each other well; the one had almost attained the summit of his ambition-the other had but entered upon the race, yet was conscious of possessing those qualities which lead to the greatest success: both were superior to the times in which they lived-the one, indeed, had all the passions and enthusiasm of youth to an intensity that was his curse-the other had none of these, yet it is not saying too much to affirm that there was something of fellowship between the young secretary and his priestly lord."

Mr. Daniel, throughout all his works, evinces great power in the use of passionate declamation when occasion calls it forth; but no subject which he has previously treated, afforded so frequent opportunity for the display of his talents in this respect as the present. We think he could have made a good dramatist. In the following Brandon and Henriette are engaged in colloquy upon the crimes of the Church :

of good men will exult in liberty. Oh! it is a foul blot on this beautiful world that man should thus become a god to man, and deal heaven's curse and pardon with a palsied hand-an old dotard in a scarlet gown! Let the day come, I will be the first to welcome it. I long to see my countrymen free in soul-liberty they will have-a tyrant now sits upon the throne, but superstition aids him not, and when the channels of knowledge are unbarred, men will then canvass the royal power, its limits and its rights. Yes, my Henriette, I long to see the day, when England shall shake off her vassalage to Rome-when these greedy in holy ministering, and the English peasant can raise his churchmen shall be taught that splendour is not needed brow to heaven, heedless of a dull priest's frown!'

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This is the language of the heretics,' repeated Henriette, gazing earnestly upon him.

"It matters little, sweet one, if it is the language of truth. I tell thee, my Henriette, that a day is at hand when the nests of these proud birds shall be rifled and their plumage torn.'”

Scarcely inferior to his power of declamation already referred to, are the abilities of our author in description. Many of the descriptions in the "Cardinal's Daughter" are very effective; the appearance of London in the reign of Henry the VIII. is especially so. Conducted by Mr. Daniel, we wander in imagination along the fields, skirting the 'Strand" of the river Thames, till we arrive at a "Convent" whose "Garden" is the "Covent Garden" of to-day, the mart for vegetables and flowers. London of the sixteenth century is called up before us in vivid colouring, at every page. Every spot, associated in immortal history with the events of the period in which the scene of the present work is laid, is compelled into our presence, and made to appear just as they severally appeared then; old St. Pauls, Whitehall, Westminster Abbey, and its then surrounding sylvan country of green fields and wooded hills. Among the characters secondary to those already named, may be mentioned the "Bluff Harry' himself, and his ill-fated consort, Anne Boleyn; both equally necessary for a work founded on any subject connected with the career of Wolsey. How true to fact such characters are drawn, we leave to readers of history to determine.

The prominent faults of the "Cardinal's Daughter" are those incident to all literary productions writte against time. The necessities of his family demanded that he should write rapidly and incessantly; while earlier portion of the sheets was going through the press,

the

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