66 6 Are you pleasantly lodged?' inquired the princess. Why, mem, pretty fair, compared with where we were at Hamburg; but the stoves give Mr. Digby the headache, your royal highness!' "We know you English never find on the Continent the comforts which you enjoy in your own country,' said the princess politely. "No, indeed, mem, we don't; and as for-' your royal highness, that's what "Are you attached to any embassy?' inquired the prin cess. "No, mem, not yet, but I believe we shall advertise for something of that sort; my relative, Lord Clew, was-' "She was cut short by a very affable courtesy on the part of the princess, and an exceedingly significant look from the grande maîtresse on one side, and Madame de Godeau on the other, intimating that her interview was over. She accordingly made a salutation, such as, in her mind, fitted the rank of the person she addressed, and her own character as a perfectly fine lady, who had at length arrived at the very summit of the ho-tong; and, ignorant of the conspicuous violation of etiquette of which she was guilty, she stepped away, turning her shoulder and back directly in the princess's face. "That lady not noticing, or not seeming to notice, the last manœuvre, turned towards Mary, who stood the next in the circle. The grande maîtresse led the trembling girl forward. Her timidity was so obvious, and she turned so pale, that the benevolent heart of the princess was interested in her behalf; and she addressed her so kindly, and led and sustained the conversation with so much consideration for her youthful and not ungraceful distress, that Mary found herself fully exempted from the necessity of making other remarks than her usual 'yes' and 'no.' "The next object which attracted Claude's attention was Digby, the perspiration standing on his forehead, his face always rather rubicund from the vivifying effect of good English beef and beer, now heated beyond itself by the anxieties and horrors which, poor fellow, he had undergone in his attempts to be presented. Unacquainted with the faces of the royal personages, even when by their side, he sometimes ran against a prince, and sometimes made an inquiry of a princess. Some one whom he had never seen before was every moment wheeling him violently round with, Prenez garde! sa majesté !'or, Monsieur, la princesse !' At length, tired, terrified, and internally swearing that no one, not Mrs. Digby herself, should ever catch him again in a scene for which his habits of life had so little fitted him, his knees aching, and his feet in a state of torment from the effect of a pair of high-heeled and very small new boots, which his wife had persuaded him to purchase for the occasion, he reached a broad crimson sofa, glittering with gold, and occupied on the other end by a lady and gentleman. Throwing himself down in an exhausted state, he muttered half aloud, Well, thank God! I'm here at last. Here sit I till din "Taking out a yellow silk pocket-handkerchief, he deliberately wiped the moisture from his forehead and blew his nose; and he had just finished taking a comfortable pinch of snuff, and was proceeding to offer the box to his neighbour, when he was struck with the intensity of astonishment with which a little military officer, with an enormous pair of mustaches, an exceedingly rich uniform, a multitude of orders, a high chapeau under his arm, and a long sword, fixed his eyes sternly upon him. In some surprise, not to say consternation, he hastily put up his handkerchief and snuff-box, and looked around to see what he had done, when he perceived that several others, —indeed, all the surrounding spectators, were regarding him attentively, and with visible tokens of amazement. Among others, a person half behind him, and partly withdrawn within the embrasure of a window, began to make him significant signs and violent gesticulations, and, at length leaning over, addressed him. The remark was lost, however, in a language which he did not understand. At length he came to the conclusion that he had torn his clothes, and, horrified at the idea, he proceeded to examine his elegant court suit, when his perplexity was terminated by Claude, who, perceiving his dilemma and the cause of it, approached him from behind and whispered, - "Get up. You are sitting with the prince and princess.' "If a bombshell had fallen at the poor fellow's feet, he could not have been more alarmed. He started up, and was darting off to hide his humiliation in some distant corner, but Claude with a strong hand very quietly withheld him. "Good God! what now? said Digby, afraid to move. "You are running directly against the prince royal!' "For Heaven's sake, then, let me go this way!' And, with a spring, he would have run full tilt against another member of the royal family, had not Claude again checked his course. He remained, therefore, motionless, and resumed the task of wiping his forehead. "Well, I say, Wyndham!' he muttered, if this is Mrs. Digby's ho-tong-!' The circle dispersed and Claude released his prisoner. It was not long before he observed him planted in a corner, with his back held resolutely against the wall, standing as straight as a grenadier under review, occasionally making a wry face at the pressure of his new boots, and now and then applying his handkerchief to his temples."- Vol. 1. pp. 107-112. The work shows a deep sympathy with human nature, as well as a familiar acquaintance with the higher forms of European social life. The author has not been dazzled by the trappings of royalty and aristocracy, though he can describe them all so well. The virtues and the vices of high society are set forth by him with impartiality and force; and we rise from his pages with a cordial respect for his abilities, a sympathy with his views of life, and an admiration of the moral purity which is shed over the scenes he has so vividly placed before us. --- C. C. Felton. ART. IX. The Rural Life of England; by WILLIAM HoWITT, Author of the "Book of the Seasons," &c. In Two Volumes. London. 1838. 12mo. THESE two volumes are among the most attractive and entertaining that have appeared lately from the British press. To Americans the subject can never be destitute of interest. We have too many common feelings with the English, too much pride in our common ancestry and our common literature, too much veneration for the land of our forefathers, ever to be indifferent to the welfare of those who speak the same language, and who uphold the same principles of liberty with ourselves. We may have a family quarrel now and then, in which sundry hearty cuffs will be exchanged; foolish tourists may and will provoke an angry feeling from time to time, by some profound disquisition on silver forks, and the different modes of eating eggs; serious questions may, from time to time, be presented, requiring mutual for bearance and confidence to adjust; but the exercise of those sentiments may now be looked for; the great national heart is sound, and beats to the voice of national friendship. The accomplished minds of both countries are constantly interchanging visits, and ripening the indefinite attachment springing from similarity of lineage, into the warmer sentiment of personal regard. We are no longer left to judge of the English character by the Fauxes, the Fearons, the Trollopes, or the Halls; but the gentlemen of England are not unfrequently seen among us, and the writings of such men as Murray are taken as an authentic report of the condition and character of the United States. American travellers in England have ceased to be chiefly the representatives of the money-making classes, persons unfit by education or the habits of their daily life to appear to advantage in the polished circles of European society; but distinguished professional men, illustrious statesmen, writers whose fame has transcended the limits of provincial popularity, have made themselves felt among the foremost minds in the British Empire, and have been received with open arms and splendid hospitality. Surely a better period of international intercourse is already commenced; a more thorough mutual appreciation, and a higher mutual respect, have begun to mark the tone of manners between the two nations; and the chances of future hostile collision between the two great branches of the kindred race are rapidly diminishing every day. Humanity, letters, and religion will feel the blessed effects of this new and beneficial order of things. In a period of this general good will, a book like Mr. Howitt's is particularly well timed, and has been accordingly very well received among those of us who have had an opportunity of reading its agreeable pages. Mr. Howitt writes in a style of much beauty, but free from all elaborate stateliness. It is polished, and correct, and copious, but at the same time sounds like the conversation of an accomplished man, describing the peculiarities of manners, the sports and pastimes, the labors and enjoyments, of his own countrymen. The work shows a minute personal acquaintance with every subject on which it touches; Mr. Howitt delineates, with the lively distinctness which none but the eyewitness can exhibit. A tone of genial fellow feeling with the pleasures and amusements of the English people runs through the book, and strikes pleasantly upon the imagination of the reader; and we feel, while lingering over his pages, that we are in the presence of a cordial and sympathizing friend. An air of truth reigns throughout the book, which commands our confidence and respect; and a vein of enlightened humanity is perceived there, which wins at once our affection. This work is not, however, to be regarded simply as a book of entertainment. It has other and higher uses. It is an excellent interpreter of many portions of English literature, that noble inheritance to which, thank God, we Americans are born. In an ancient country like England, the habits of the people assume a permanent form; century after century rolls away, and opinions, superstitions, observances, national feelings, are scarcely touched by the hand of time. All these are the choicest materials of the poet and the writer of fiction; by incorporating them into his works, by embellishing them with the ornament of his genius, he reaches the national heart, and lives in the affectionate remembrance of generation after generation of his countrymen. To men of a different nation all these hues of nationality, which constitute some of the highest beauties of national literature, become faint and dim, and can only be brought out by careful and laborious study; as we come to perceive the exquisite character of the great poetical works of antiquity only by a minute investigation of the national manners, arts, social usages, and mythologies, under whose influences they were produced. But, though we do not stand to English literature in the relation of foreigners, there can be no doubt that we require not a little of this sort of commentary, if we would fully appreciate the power of the English muse. We speak, it is true, the English language, and we have in general the same Anglo-Saxon cast of thought, and intellectual peculiarities, with our English brethren; still we have been so long politically independent, we are, comparatively speaking, so young a people, and we have had so little time to settle down. into a fixed national character, in the midst of the pressing cares of life, with which the youth of a nation, like the youth of a man, is so closely besieged, that many of the habits, usages, and ceremonies, whether religious or social, to which our ancestors were accustomed under the roof of the old homestead, have faded from memory, and vanished from the theatre of popular life. The most national of the English poets, there |