yet we hesitate to draw any positive conclusion, sensible that a character dashed off as the representative of a certain class of men will bear, if executed with fidelity to the general outlines, not only that resemblance which he ought to possess as "knight of the shire," but also a special affinity to some particular individual. It is scarcely possible it should be otherwise. When Emery appears on the stage as a Yorkshire peasant, with the habit, manner, and dialect peculiar to the character, and which he assumes with so much truth and fidelity, those unacquainted with the province or its inhabitants see merely the abstract idea, the beau idéal of a Yorkshireman. But to those who are intimate with both, the action and manner of the comedian almost necessarily recall the idea of some individual native (altogether unknown probably to the performer), to whom his exterior and manners bear a casual resemblance. We are, therefore, on the whole inclined to believe, that the incidents are frequently copied from actual occurrences, but that the characters are either entirely fictitious, or if any traits have been borrowed from real life, as in the anecdote which we have quoted respecting Invernahyle, they have been carefully disguised and blended with such as are purely imaginary. We now proceed to a more particular examination of the volumes before us.

They are entitled, Tales of my Landlord: why so entitled, excepting to introduce a quotation from Don Quixote, it is difficult to conceive: for Tales of my Landlord they are not, nor is it indeed easy to say whose tales they ought to be called. There

is a proem, as it is termed, supposed to be written by Jedediah Cleishbotham, the schoolmaster and parish-clerk of the village of Gandercleugh, in which we are given to understand that these Tales were compiled by his deceased usher, Mr Peter Pattieson, from the narratives or conversations of such travellers as frequented the Wallace Inn, in that village. Of this proem we shall only say that it is written in the quaint style of that prefixed by Gay to his Pastorals, being, as Johnson terms it," such imitation as he could obtain of obsolete language, and by consequence, in a style that was never written nor spoken in any age or place.”

The first of the Tales thus ushered in is entitled

the Black Dwarf. It contains some striking scenes, but it is even more than usually deficient in the requisites of a luminous and interesting narrative, as will appear from the following abridgment.

Two deer-stalkers, one the Laird of Earnscliff, a gentleman of family and property, the other Hobbie Elliot, of the Heugh-foot, a stout Border yeoman, are returning by night from their sports on the hills of Liddesdale, and in the act of crossing a moor reported to be haunted, when they perceive, to the great terror of the farmer, the being from whom the story takes its name, bewailing himself to the moon and the stones of a Druidical circle, which our author has previously introduced to the reader's knowledge, as a supposed scene of witchery and an object of superstitious terror. The Black Dwarf is thus described :—

"The height of the object, which seemed even to decrease as they approached it, appeared to be under four feet, and its form.

so far as the imperfect light afforded them the means of discerning, was very nearly as broad as long, or rather of a spherical shape, which could only be occasioned by some strange personal deformity. The young sportsman hailed this extraordinary appearance twice, without receiving any answer, or attending to the pinches by which his companion endeavoured to intimate that their best course was to walk on, without giving farther disturb. ance to a being of such singular and preternatural exterior. Το the third repeated demand of Who are you? What do you here at this hour of night?'''-a voice replied, whose shrill, uncouth, and dissonant tones made Elliot step two paces back, and startled even his companion, Pass on your way, and ask nought at them that ask nought at you.'

"What do you here so far from shelter? Are you benighted on your journey? Will you follow us home' (God forbid ! ejaculated Hobbie Elliot, involuntarily), and I will give you a lodging?'

·

"I would sooner lodge by mysell in the deepest of the Tar. ras flow,' again whispered Hobbie

"Pass on your way,' rejoined the figure, the harsh tones of his voice still more exalted by passion. I want not your guidance I want not your lodging-it is five years since my head was under a human roof, and I trust it was for the last time.'"

After a desperate refusal on the part of the misanthropical dwarf to hold any communication with the hunters, they proceed on their journey to Hobbie's house, of Heughfoot, where they are courteously received by his grandmother, his sisters, and Grace Armstrong, a fair cousin, with whom the doughty yeoman is described to be enamoured. The domestic scene is painted with the knowledge of the language and manners of that class of society, which give interest to the picture of Dandie Dinmont and his family in Guy Mannering. But we do not think it equal to the more simple sketch contained in the earlier novel. This must frequently be the case, when an author, in

repeated efforts, brings before us characters of the same genus. He is, as it were, compelled to dwell upon the specific differences and distinctions, instead of the general characteristics, or, in other words, rather to show wherein Hobbie Elliot differs from Dandie Dinmont, than to describe the former as he really was.

The mysterious dwarf, with speed almost supernatural, builds himself a house of stones and turf, encloses it with a rude wall, within which he cultivates a patch of garden ground, and all this he accomplishes by the assistance of chance passengers, who occasionally stopped to aid him in a task which seemed so unfitted for a being of his distorted shape. Against this whole tale we were tempted to state the objection of utter improbability. We are given, however, to understand that such an individual, so misused by nature in his birth, did actually, within these twenty years, appear in a lone valley in the moors of Tweeddale, and so build a mansion without any assistance but that of passengers as aforesaid, and said house so constructed did so inhabit. The singular circumstances of his hideous appearance, of the apparent ease with which he constructed his place of abode, of the total ignorance of all the vicinity respecting his birth or history, excited, in the minds of the common people, a superstitious terror not inferior to that which the romance describes the appearance of the Black Dwarf to have spread through Liddesdale. The real recluse possessed intelligence and information beyond his apparent condition, which the neigh

bours, in their simplicity, were sometimes disposed to think preternatural. He once resided (and perhaps still lives) in the vale formed by the Manorwater which falls into the Tweed near Peebles, a glen long honoured by the residence of the late venerable Professor Ferguson.

The Black Dwarf is consulted (from an opinion of his supernatural skill) by many in his vicinity, which gives opportunity to the author to introduce us to his dramatis persona:—these are Willie of Westburnflat, a thorough-paced Border robber, who is perhaps placed somewhat too late in the story, and Miss Isabella Vere, daughter of the Laird of Ellieslaw, betwixt whom and Earnscliff a mutual attachment subsists. But, as is usual in such cases, her father, who belonged to the jacobite party in politics, and was deeply concerned in their intrigues, was hostile to the match. This unaccommodating sire had resolved to confer the hand of Miss Vere upon Sir Frederick Langley, an English baronet, of his own political creed, and whom he wished to bind yet more closely to his interest. These, with a confidante cousin of no importance, and a gay cavalier called Mareschal, who embarks in his kinsman Ellieslaw's plots with as much lively heedlessness as could be desired; and, finally, a grave steward called Ratcliffe, who receives and accounts to Mr Vere for the rents of some extensive English estates, which had belonged, as was supposed, to his deceased wife, fill up the dramatis persona. This list of personages is not numerous, yet the tale is far from corresponding in simplicity