At Easter Time the Baron de B.-W. visits his friend
The Peer of Brighton.
Henceforth Florence Warden will do well to get away from the rusty bars, bolts, chains, trap-doors, and cellars, from ruined castles, as grim as that of Udolpho, "of which," as Sir Walter said in his preface to Waverley, "the Eastern wing had long been uninhabited, and the keys either lost, or consigned to the care of some aged butler or housekeeper, whose trembling steps, &c., &c." Accidentally, turning from "White" to "Black," the Baron took up the first volume of the excellent re-issue of the Waverley Novels, by Messrs. Adam and Charles Black, called The Dryburgh Edition, and commenced reading the introductory chapter of Waverley, which at that time, gave the death-thrust to the melodramatic horrors of romantic tales, whether evolved from the inner consciousness of English writers, or openly acknowledged as "taken from the German."
In view of the sensational romance of the present day, towards which, when really good, the Baron owns to having a decided leaning—it is interesting to note how brave Sir Walter defied the existing fashion in novels of his own time, spurned the sentimental "Mordaunts," the "Belvilles," and such like played-out names of ancient chivalry, laughed at the heroine "with a profusion of auburn hair and a harp," and, like the Magician of the North that he was, boldly gave to the world his historic novels, in which, where History doesn't suit the requirements of fiction, it is so much the worse for History. Are there very many of the present generation who have not read Sir Walter Scott's novels? If there be any—and there must be, or where would be the demand to occasion this new and admirably devised supply—let them at once put aside modern sensationalism, and commence Walter Scott as a study. The Baron knows personally one man of mature years, who has read neither Waverley nor several others of the series, and him he envies, for, as the student in question has already set himself to the task, he has the greatest literary pleasure of his life yet to come. Type, size of book, excellent as a library edition; and the illustrations, so far as they have gone, are good, and not too distracting. And so, after this unequivocal expression of his sentiments, he signs himself, The Bold Baron de B.-W.
A LESSON IN ALTRUISM.
Always be kind to Dumb Animals—their Lives are short, and should be made Happy and as Comfortable as possible—even at the cost of a little Temporary Discomfort to yourself.