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It cometh ! hence, away,

quoted from, is but the first part of a Leave to the elements their evil prey ! poem; but it is likewise a poem, and Hence to where our all-hallow'd ark uprears å fine one too, within itself. We conIts safe and reckless sides."

fess that we see little or nothing obThe angels seeing the coming doom, jectionable in it, either as to theologiwish to carry off Anah and Aholiba- cal orthodoxy, or general human feelmah to an untroubled star;" but are ing. It is solemn, lofty, fearful, told by Raphael, that it is in vain to wild, wicked, and tumultuous, and war with the commands of God. Aza- shadowed all over with the darkness ziel and Samiasa, however, as the wa- of a dreadful disaster. Of the angels ters descend, and distracted mortals who love the daughters of men we see come flying for refuge, soar off with little, and know less—and not too their mortal maidens; and Japhet ex- much of the love and passion of the claims,

fair lost mortals. The inconsolable Japh. They are gone! They have dis

despair preceding and accompanying appear'd amidst the roar Of the forsaken world ; and never more,

an incomprehensible catastrophe, perWhether they live, or die with all earth's

vades the whole composition, and its life,

expression is made sublime by the Now near its last, can aught restore

noble strain of poetry in which it is Anah unto these eyes.”

said or sung. Sometimes there is heaviA chorus of mortals then raise a ness—dulness—as if it were pressed woful and tumultuous song—and in on purpose, intended, perhaps, to “The Waters rise: Men fly in every denote the occasional stupefaction, direction; many are overtaken by the drowsiness, and torpidity of soul prowaves; the Chorus of Mortals disper- duced by the impending destruction ees in search of safety up the Moun- upon the latest of the Antediluvians. tains; Japhet remains upon a rock, But, on the whole, it is not unworthy while the Ark floats towards him in of Byron-might have been published the distance.”

by Murray-and is proof against the It appears that what we have now Constitutional Association.

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THE ENTAIL.* When a man gets the right sow by how few could create ? There is more the ear, we think he does wisely to absolute talent, knowledge, invention, pull away at it as long as the animal required to write a book that shall only appears to trot willingly in hand ; and be tolerable, than to deliver the best therefore the author of “ The Entail” oral critique that ever charmed a coshews his sense in thus lugging along terie, or to scribble a leading article the Public. For many years Mr Galt for the Edinburgh Review. We who was not a very successful writer, al- have written many books only tolerable, though all his works that we have seen (two or three first-rate) and many arexhibit no ordinary grasp and reach ticles fit for insertion even in this Maof thought. But the truth is, that gazine, know by experience the truth unsuccessful authors are a numerous of this assertion. But to write a good race, and this gentleman, if he ever book—an excellent book—a genuine belonged to the clan, had many clever book, there comes the rub; and he who and acute persons to keep him in com- can do so, may turn up his nose, or pany and countenance. It is only when his little finger, ad libitum, at all the a man becomes distinguished, that we critics that ever snarled, from Aristarwonder why he was so long rather ob- chus to Mr Jeffrey. scure. Many are those of whom we Nuw, Mr Galt has written many think very highly, and who, without such books— books that do not lie tordelusion, think very highly of them- pid upon counters or tables, or doze selves, who will continue obscurish away their lives upon shelves, but that writers all their born days. But who keep circulating briskly as the claret is entitled to scorn them on that bottle at one of our monthly meetings ground? Of those who proudly, and at Ambrose's. Thousands of people even judiciously and ably criticise, delight in them—thousands admire

The Entail; or, The Lairds of Grippy. By the Author of Annals of the Parish, Sir Andrew Wylie, &c. 3 vols. 12mo. Blackwood, Edinburgh ; Cadell, London. 1829.

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them—thousands like them—thou- and enjoyments, and sufferings, which sands undervalue them out of spite they necessarily bring along with them, and thousands despise them out of Mr Galt gives us such insights into the pure stupidity. This is to be a po- constitution of human nature, as are pular author. His name comes to the at once interesting and useful, and ear with a sort of fillup. “ Ah! Galt? enlarge our knowledge of its original ay, he is a clever, famous fellow that tendencies and powers, acted upon and Galt; his Sir Andrew Wheelie is rich, modified, and varied by the pursuits sir ; why, in some things he treads on and plans, and institutions of civil sothe heels of the Great Unknown.”_ ciety. “ He tread upon the heels of the Great It is not very easy, in a work picUnknown! no such thing; I hateWylie, turing human life, not upon any siinhe is a cursed bore: but his ' Annals of ple and classical theory of representathe Parish,' if you had spoken of them, I tion, but by fragments, and, as it were, would have been your man—so natural large piecemeals of existence, to say --so humoursomeso pathetic even. I who is the principal character the knew old Micah Balwhidder perfectly chief hero. In the works of the Auwell; I attended his funeral one snowy thor of Waverley, accordingly, we find day in February, and I remember we no one leading spirit influencing and dined at widow Howie's on corned stamping the destinies of all, towards beef and greens.”—“ You night have one great consummation. Each does dined on stewed pole-cat, with tobacco- his own work, and sometimes the work stuffing, my man; but the Provost for of each is the most important and digmy money, auld Tam Pawkie. If that nified. The want of a hero, therefore, eunning cadger had gone southwards is, we think, a great excellence, in all in his youth, he would have been works of this kind; for, thereby, they Lord Mayor of London.”—“But what are liker reality, and keep us among sort of stuff is this Entail ? I suppose, our own experiences. Where every the same eternal stuff over and over thing is to be bent and moulded to again, like a seventh-day-task. I am meet our ideas of proportion, fitness, , wearied-perfectly worn out with Galt beauty, and so forth, in a composition, and his everlasting volumes.” our mind is apt to feel that art and

Since this gentleman or lady, and nature are two different things, and many others beside, wish to know that the latter is sacrificed to the forwhat sort of a book is this “ Entail,” mer--the stronger to the weaker-that we shall tell them; so, meanwhile, of which we care little, for that of Molly, my dear, make me another which we care every thing. This is tumbler, and hoist that half-hundred- the case, (to speak of smaller works, weight of a lump of coal from the though not small, with the very greathearthstone on the fire. Take your est) with the “ Entail.” It has many knitting, my love ; hold your tongue, leading characters, according to the if you can, for one hour; if not-Í disposition of the mind that reads it ; think I hear the children crying—so and while one person will think old take a look into the nursery.

Claud the hero, another may, perhaps, These volumes, then, contain the fix upon poor Wattie the Natural. history of the Walkinshaws, a family However, old Claud Walkinshaw is, in the “West Country ;” and without if not the hero, certainly a hero in his any attempt at fancy or imagination, way, and a very original hero. He either in the contrivance of incidents was the sole surviving heir of the or the delineation of passions, that his- Walkinshaws of Kittlestonheugh. His tory affords many vividly and strongly grandfather, the last laird of the line, drawn pictures of human life. Per- having been deluded by the golden haps, if our eyes could penetrate tho- visions that allured so many of the roughly into the domestic economy of Scottish gentry to embark their forany one family whatever, of human tunes in the Darien expedition, sent beings, we should see much to agitate his only son, the father of Claud, in one and interest. The personages here are of his ships, to that ruinous Isthmus. all merchants; and, in the exhibition He perished ; the old man was ruined; of the mercantile mind, in its intensest the wife of the young adventurer died; or milder states of money-wishing, Kittlestonheugh was sold; and infant with all the accompanying affections, Claudl was taken, by his grandfather, to the upper story of a back house in souled, stiff-backed packman do next? Aird's close, in the Drygate, Glasgow. Why, marry to be sure, to beget a son,

Claud Walkinshaw, therefore, was (for daughters are not in such a case the poor, almost the beggar son of an worth mentioning) who shall one day old family; and he is described as ha- yet be kittlestonheugh. Accordingly, ving been supported in his boyhood by he looks about with the eye of a Walan old female servant. As he grew up kinshaw and a packman. He fixes his he came to know of what blood he keen, grey, money-making Kittlestonwas sprung, and that if it had not been heugh eye upon Grizzy Hypel, a gem for the malice of fortune, he might of the first water, a maid of the Mohave been Kittlestonheugh. Endowed lindinar, a sylph of the Saltmarket, a by nature with a strong intellect, and grace of the Gallowgate, and a very with a heart certainly not callous or “ creature of the element” of the insensible, but capable of contracting Candleriggs. Her character, as it is and concentrating all its feelings to one most admirably pourtrayed, we shall selfish and yet honourable purpose, not endeavour to sketch. It is a rich young Claud' became a packman, and original. The ingenious editor of the internally bound himself, by an oath, Inverness Courier, (one of the best to retrieve the fortune of his family, newspapers in Scotland) exclaims over and by his own parsimony, industry, Grizzy Hypel, “What exquisite deperseverance, and enterprize, to stand light must she have afforded our bioin his grandfather's shoes. This is liis grapher, as coyly and by reluctant deruling passion; and ch a character grees, her various charms of character is no fiction. All packmen are not in- unfolded to his imagination! We have deed like Claud Walkinshaw, ncither her in all relations from a blooming are all packmen like Wordsworth's bride to a reverend grandmother ; but pedlar. But we humbly conceive that " age cannot wither her. Our author's Galt's hero is a more natural, and per- fancy seems to have run riot with liaps not a less powerful, although cer- Grizzy Hypel, and he has ransacked tainly a less poetical personage than every element to find some name and Wordsworth's. Through storm and appropriate attribute to adorn this pet sunshine, on plain and over mountain, heroine, till she comes at last a perfect by day and by night, hungry and with a counterpart of the lovers of Apellesfúll stomach, drunk at others expense, a thing coinpounded of every creaand sober at his own—in town, vil- ture's best.” lage, grange, clachan, and solitary farm- Children of course are born, and house, Claud Walkinshaw, the pack- Claud gloats over the hidden hoard of man, travels with his wares on his his ideas of uniting at last Plealands, back, sells them cheap, dear, or mo- the estate of his wife's father, with his derate-cheats, we suppose, occasion- own, which he hopes will one day comally, and sometimes is strictly honest, prehend Kittlestonheugh. He is not till at last, cheered all the time by the an ordinary miser; ground, land, soil, uncommunicated solitary joy of one earth, old stedfast property of houses, stedfast purpose, he gathers together a fields, and trees, that had belonged to few hundred pounds. Then he sees Kit- his ancestors, but had been blown out tlestonheugh, not in the hopeless per- of the family by the very winds that spective of imagination, but he almost wafted his grandfather's ship over the touches with his ell-wand, the gable- seas to death and perdition--these are end of the hereditary house. Then he the solid permanent objects of his imadoffs the pack, is erratic no more, and gination, and to repossess these, and to sets up a shop in Glasgow-a city im- send into the gate of the old hereditary mortalized by the saving genius of its house a son of his own loins,--this is population, and by the destroying ge- the fire that burns perpetually in his nius of this Magazine. Claud Wal- heart, and flings its light over his kinshaw waxes rich; and with a pas- strong-box. But old Plealands, his

; sionate and gloating joy, which all who father-in-law, is a man somewhat of read Galt will see searchingly deline- the same kidney, and destines that ated, purchases a farm-part of the property to Claud's secor

son, on very Kittlestonheugh estate, and be- condition of his taking the soft, sweet, comes absolutely, and bona fide, Laird ancient, and august name of HyOF GRIPPY.

pel. Here we have good fellows well What shall the close-fisted, strong- met; and Claud Walkinshaw, disap

pointed of a long cherished scheme of born, (he who had been disinherited
ambition, feels all his purposes sent and died of a broken heart,) succeeds
back upon his heart to gnaw it with at last to the property, being, as his
unavailing and angry repinings. But name imports, an heir-male. He had
the devil in that heart suggests a coun- inarried a pretty girl, Helen Fraser;
ter-plot, and Claud disinherits Charles, and after all his toil and trouble, double
his eldest son, on the plea of an im- double, things go all right at last, and
prudent marriage, and executes a deed the young Laird of Grippy has a
ct entail, (hence the name of the gude houff;" and, as nothing is said
work,) which settles all the property to the contrary, begets sons and daugh-
on the second son Walter, an idiot; ters.—Sic transit gloria mundi.
and failing him, to George the young- Now this is indeed a very slight
est. He therefore marries Watty, the sketch or outline of the “Entail," and
idiot,-ay, Wattie, the idiot,—to one perhaps not a very good one. But the
who is no idiot, but a bonny bouncing truth is, that we read the work, on its
lass, one Betty Bodle, that they may first publication, through from begin-
raise up seed to inherit both Grippy- ning to end in one day; and about a
Kittlestonheugh, if it should be so fortnight afterwards, we glanced it all
and also the Plealands. But Betty over again, devouring all the prime
Bodle dies in childbed, and her child bits. But of all people that ever lived,
is only a daughter. The old man is we are the worst at comprehending a
thus baffled by death. Charles, his story. No doubt we have its meaning,
eldest son, dies of a broken heart; its soul, and of that we miss nothing.
and George, the youngest, is married, But the outs and ins, the expressions,
but has no male children. Claud, there the means, instrumentalities, and so on;
fore, with all the thoughts, feelings, why, of these we never know enough in
desires, and passions of his strong any book to be able to give any thing
and seemingly unnatural or denatu- like a rational account of them, even to
ralized heart, is left thwarted, disap- the Silly. But farther, in such works
pointed, baffled, enraged, and despair- as the “ Entail,” we know an ana-
ing in his old age ; but, though ready lysis to be unnecessary; and, therefore,
to curse God, is not ready to die. that it would be foolish. People will

Preyed upon now by remorse for his read it for themselves. We have said
injustice to his eldest son Charles, enough just to let those into whose
whom he had disinherited, and awaked hands it has not yet fallen-for it
to a sense of his own hard-hearted takes a book at least six months to
folly, the old man is at last stricken make the rounds—know what they
with palsy, and gives up the ghost. may expect; and " ex pede Herculem,
Wattie, the idiot, has been cognosced Foot from his toe.
-that is, proved to be an idiot in a court Indeed what is the value of a inere
of justice, and dies—as does also his one-page sketch of a work in three vo-
daughter, “ little Betty Bodle," and lumes ? Especially when its chief in-
the Plealands estate goes to George terest lies not in incidents, but in the
- the youngest son, who assumes the delineation of character, and in pic-
title of Laird of Grippy-a chip of the tures of passion. There is little gain-
old block; but he is drowned some- ed when we merely state what such
where or other in a storm off the or such a character is; we must see how
north of Scotland. An extraordinary it has been made, how it acts, and what
character is now introduced ; a lady, fruit it bears. Claud Walkinshaw, for
whom we beg leave to cut courteous- example, might be said to be this,
ly as a considerable bore, although, that, and the other thing; and we
as she has the second sight, we pre- could compose many excellent senten-
sume she is a great deal cleverer than ces on the old Packman. But to see
ourselves, and worthy the admira- " the Jew whom Mr Galt drew” read
tion of novel readers. Great part of the “Entail ;" and then you will see
the third volume is about her; and how a man of observation and genius
Odoherty thinks that her history and can give even a tragic interest to the
character shew great imagination. We lowest passions of our nature, by com-
are happy to hear it, so let the Adju- bining them with others that are not
tant make the most of her and all la- low,andshewing their united operation
dies of her class. Charles Walkin- in the soul of a travelling dealer in
shaw, the eldest son of Claud's eldest small wares, afterwards a shopkeeper,

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and then a smallish laird ;-and last of all, death-stricken at the heart by that iron-handed fiend Remorse, who unites alike princes and pedlars, and stirs up from the depths of the human spirit, feelings that with the "lofty equalize the low." So might we tell who Wattie Walkinshaw was-how he wept over both his Betty Bodles-was cognosced, dwined away, and died.

But all that is told in about a volume by Mr Galt; and it must not be expected from us in half a page.

We must, however, give a couple of good extracts, and then take leave of our dear Public with a few observations on the said "Entail," and some other matters.

"Immediately after the funeral, Claud returned home to Grippy, where he continued during the remainder of the day seIcluded in his bed-chamber. Next morning, being Sunday, he was up and dressed earlier than usual; and after partaking slightly of breakfast, he walked into Glasgow, and went straight to the house of his daughter-in-law.

The widow was still in her own room, and not in any state or condition to be seen; but the children were dressed for church; and when the bells began to ring, he led them out, each holding him by the hand, innocently proud of their new black clothes.

"In all the way up the High Street, and down the pathway from the church-yard gate to the door of the cathedral, he never raised his eyes; and during the sermon he continued in the same apparent state of stupor. In retiring from the church, the little boy drew him gently aside from the path to show his sister the spot where their father was laid; and the old man, absorbed in his own reflections, was unconsciously on the point of stepping on the grave, when James checked him,

"It's papa-dinna tramp on him.' "Aghast and recoiling, as if he had trodden upon an adder, he looked wildly around, and breathed quickly and with great difficulty, but said nothing. In an instant his countenance underwent a remarkable change his eyes became glittering and glassy, and his lips white. His whole frame shook, and appeared under the influence of some mortal agitation. His presence of mind did not, however, desert him, and he led the children hastily home. On reaching the door, he gave them in to the servant that opened it without speaking, and went immediately to Grippy, where, the moment he had seated himself in his elbow-chair, he ordered one of the servants to go for Mr Keelevin.

"What ails you, father?' said Walter, who was in the room at the time; ye

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speak unco drumly-hae ye bitten your tongue ?' But scarcely had he uttered these words, when the astonished creature gave a wild and fearful shout, and, clasping his hands above his head, cried, Help! help! something's riving my father in pieces!

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"The cry brought in the servants, who, scarcely less terrified, found the old man smitten with a universal paralysis, his mouth and eyes dreadfully distorted, and his arms powerless.

"In the alarm and consternation of the moment, he was almost immediately deserted; every one ran in quest of medical aid. Walter alone remained with him, and continued gazing in his face with a strange horror, which idiocy rendered terrific.

"Before any of the servants returned, the violence of the shock seemed to subside, and he appeared to be sensible of his situation. The moment that the first entered the room he made an effort to speak, and the name of Keelevin was two or three times so distinctly articulated, that even Walter understood what he meant, and immediately ran wildly to Glasgow for the lawyer. Another messenger was dispatched for the Leddy, who had, during the forenoon, gone to her daughter-in-law, with the intention of spending the day.

"In the meantime a Doctor was procured, but he seemed to consider the situation of the patient hopeless; he, however, as in all similar cases, applied the usual stimulants to restore energy, but without any decisive effect.

"The weather, which had all day been lowering and hazy, about this time became drizzly, and the wind rose, insomuch that Leddy Grippy, who came flying to the summons, before reaching home was drenched to the skin, and was for some time, both from her agitation and fatigue, incapable of taking any part in the bustle around her husband.

"Walter, who had made the utmost speed for Mr Keelevin, returned soon after his mother; and, on appearing before his father, the old man eagerly spoke to him; but his voice was so thick, that few of his words were intelligible. It was, however, evident that he inquired for the lawyer; for he threw his eyes constantly towards the door, and several times again was able to articulate his name.

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At last, Mr Keelevin arrived on horseback, and came into the room, dressed in his trotcosey; the hood of which, over his cocked hat, was drawn so closely on his face, that but the tip of his sharp aquiline nose was visible. But, forgetful or regardless of his appearance, he stalked with long strides at once to the chair where Claud was sitting; and taking from under the skirt of the trotcosey a bond of provision for the widow and children of Charles, and for Mrs Milrookit, he knelt down, and began to read it aloud.

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