1830.] 



Domestic and Foreign. 



711 



into an'act of forgery, to relieve the parent he 

 has so deeply injured. He is sentenced to 

 Botany Bay, whither he is conveyed, mixed 

 up with the lowest of the human race. The 

 scene opens at Sydney. He is quickly as- 

 signed as a labourer on a farm, in the interior, 

 where he finds some relief in being separated 

 from his odious companions. He resolves to 

 make the best of his condition, and conciliate 

 the good will of his master by diligence and 

 usefulness. Unluckily he has a most un- 

 tractable animal to deal with. The colonist 

 was one of the middle class of English farmers 

 honest, but rough and uncultivated just 

 enough, but coarse and prejudiced. He made 

 no distinctions ; a convict was a felon, and 

 he knew nothing of the early history of his 

 slave, and cared nothing. His family con- 

 sisted of a sister and a niece, both of them 

 comparatively civilized ; the young lady, espe- 

 cially, seemed, in that lonely spot, one of the 

 loveliest of human beings. By degrees the 

 youth contrives to make some of the accom- 

 plishments of his superior condition known to 

 the ladies, and is beginning to excite at least 

 something like sympathy, when the jealousy 

 and vengeance of afemale convict, whose over- 

 tures to closer acquaintance he had rejected, 

 infuses some suspicion into the farmer, and 

 he, in the rage of the moment, loads him with 

 abuse, and accompanies it with a blow. This 

 is not to be borne : the young man flies from 

 the house, and takes refuge among the bush- 

 men, with whom, a few weeks before, he had 

 had an accidental encounter. In a few days 

 the gang propose to levy contributions on the 

 farmer. The youth, for the sake of the ladies, 

 warns the farmer of the approaching attack ; 

 a kindness which he repays by betraying him 

 to his associates. From the indignation of 

 these desperadoes he narrowly escapes by 

 darting into the woods, and eluding pursuit. 

 In his forlorn condition, he joins a small 

 party of the natives, and again, from some 

 misunderstanding with them, he with diffi- 

 culty escapes being speared. After roaming 

 for some time in the woods, exposed to a va- 

 riety of perils, he is suddenly arrested by a 

 party of soldiers in search of an outlaw, 

 and by them conducted to Sydney, where he 

 finds his mother, who had procured his eman- 

 cipation. With her he continues for some 

 time at Sydney, and is by the liberal party 

 admitted into society. Here he encounters 

 again his old master's niece, whose affections 

 he speedily wins, and is finally prevailed upon 

 to visit the uncle, and endeavour to propitiate 

 him. The attempt is attended with fatal 

 consequences. He proved inflexible, and was 

 that very night murdered by a bushman 

 a fact which threw suspicion upon his visiter. 

 Though not convicted of the crime, in the 

 course of the trial, his flight from his master 

 and intercourse with the bushmen became 

 known, and he was in consequence doomed to 

 the public works at Paramatta. Reduced to 

 a more deplorable condition than ever, he 

 joined a party in an attempt to seize a sloop 

 and escape; they were pursued, and in the 



conflict the miserable youth was shot. The 

 tale is entitled the False Step, and the pur- 

 pose of the writer is to trace its irretrievable 

 consequences. The moral is good in prin- 

 ciple, but it must of course fail in exact pro- 

 portion to the excessive rigour with which it is 

 pursued. 



The Inland Bride, in Six Cantos, l>y the 

 Rev. Hobart Counter, B. D. A little ro- 

 mantic tale, with few incidents, and those 

 chiefly of the decisive kind, but abundance of 

 gentle sentiment and charming scenery. It 

 is a poem to be read only at leisure and at 

 ease, by the young, by those whose imagina- 

 tions are still in the clouds, and not yet 

 brought down to the grovelling realities of 

 life. Almost in any part of the volume a 

 favourable specimen might be taken at ran- 

 dom ; what we give, sweet as it is, is not 

 above the general run of the piece. 



Here Bertha dwelt for heaven, and all was rest 

 Within a bosom not yet warped by guile; 

 The very throbbings of her gentle breast 

 Were peace's lullaby ; and, when the smile 

 Played round her lips, it seemed as if the while 

 The sunlight of her soul was beaming there 

 Its God's bright reflex. How should guilt defile 

 A thing so pure ? and yet was she as fair 

 As she was good oh ! that like her all women were ! 



There was a sweet unconsciousness about her, 



An utter absence of all pride, all art: 



Who heard her clear soft tones could never doubt 



her, 



They were the echoes of a guileless heart. 

 Truth hung upon her lips, whence brightly dart 

 Its rays divine : so seraph-like her air, 

 That her pure frame seemed of her soul a part- 

 Fit casket for a work so passing rare, 

 For innocence had fixed its fairest impress there. 



Within the circle of her native glen 

 She passed, without a care, the live-long day : 

 No wish was hers to join the " hum of men," 

 Who while' in sensual dreams their lives away. 

 With the young rustics at their evening play 

 She'd mix, partaker of their merry glee, 

 And oft-times join the artless roundelay, 

 Or thread the dance, with footstep light and free, 

 Her life, without its din, one constant jubilee. 



The National Portrait Gallery, XII. 

 Nos. This can scarcely fail of proving a 

 very popular publication. It is got up with 

 great care and elegance. The portraits, the 

 main feature of the work, are all of them 

 excellent, and many of them very striking 

 specimens of the correctness with which a 

 likeness is transferred from canvas to copper : 

 the art of engraving surely can no further go. 

 The accompanying memoirs are of course all 

 of the laudatory cast ; they are done by Mr. 

 Jerdan, and under the restrictions imposed, 

 indispensable, we suppose, in cases of this 

 kind, very respectably " done." We do not 

 understand the principles which guide the 

 publishers in their selection, unless a Na- 

 tional Gallery is meant to express an Omnium, 

 Gatherum. The Duke of Beaufort, Lord 

 Grantham, and the Marquis of Ormonde 

 can have no particular claim to distinction, 



