542 
has no title—which in reality belongs to this 
very youth, who, however, knows nothing 
yet about the matter. He is supposed to be 
the illegitimate son of one who died intes- 
tate, to whose property this person succeeded 
as heir-at-law. He had educated the youth, 
and finally, on discovering a growing pen- 
chant between him and his daughter, dis- 
missed him with a certain sum, and thus 
won the character of prodigious liberality 
from admiring friends. Hearing, through 
his agents, of the youth being in the neigh- 
bourhood, and of his associating with Hyde 
the smuggler, whom he well knew—and 
whom, as magistrate—such things we sup- 
pose do occur—he had protected—grew sud- 
denly alarmed—and issued a warrant for the 
apprchension of both parties, as dealing in 
smuggled goods. The constable was a 
friend of Hyde’s, and had often given hints 
all was not right with his employer; and 
the story of the youth still further roused his 
suspicions. He resolves to fathom the mys- 
tery, and not being troubled with scruples 
in the process, he makes the constable tipsy, 
and worms from him the secret. The con- 
stable had been one of the usurper’s agents, 
and had received £500 for his assistance, 
and a lawyer £2,000, which lawyer proves 
to be Hyde’s own father. Though checked 
a little in his ardour by this discovery, he 
soon recollects how little he is indebted to 
him, and boldly prosecutes his purpose. 
The father, though reduced to a state of 
sottishness and eternal remorse, stands out, 
till Hyde, who knew his man, offers another 
£2,000, which clinches the business, and 
produces the marriage-certificate, which legi- 
timates his friend. Of course all obstacles 
disperse—the usurper resigns—the youth 
marries the daughter, and has no greater 
pleasure than sharing his fortunes with the 
impetuous and generous smuggler. We 
have hung too long over this. 
The longest tale, occupying a full volume, 
is entitled Letitia. She is a very beautiful 
girl, the daughter of a small farmer, and 
living as a sort of companion with the wife 
of a large one, whose only son falls in love 
with her. The mother of the youth is a 
very termagant—she violently expels the 
young woman, and rails at her son, till he is 
driven to flight, and the same night is found 
drowned in the neighbouring inundated 
marshes of Essex. Though with no de- 
finite grounds for the suspicion, the poor 
girl is impressed with the conviction of his 
having been murdered, and thinks herself 
preserved solely for the detection of the 
murderer. She pines and mopes, but 
neither actually loses her senses, nor her 
powers of exertion. Her father is seized 
with paralysis, and large demands are made 
upon the little property ; but the conscious- 
ness of coming want rouses her to many 
noble acts of energy. While thus exerting 
herself, a younger sister, as beautiful as she 
had been herself, going to a dance at a 
farmer’s in the village, attracts the admira- 
Monthly Review of Literature, 
[May, 
tion of a stranger, who suddenly presented 
himself to the party. This person proves to 
be the run-away son of wealthy people in 
the neighbourhood — distinguished, before 
his flight, for profligacy—and now returned, 
from nobody knows where, nor from what 
employment, to claim his father’s property. 
He is a dashing sort of fellow—rude and 
rough in language—with a fierceness and 
air of command not easily accounted for— 
but very capable of softening in the pre- 
sence of women. Recovering his property, 
and apparently settling quietly in the neigh- 
bourhood as Capt. Glennon—though re- 
ported occasionally to be entertaining very 
strange companions—he presented himself 
to Letitia’s sister, and quickly won the sim- 
ple girl’s heart. Letitia is deeply distressed 
at this event, but knows not how to enforce 
her objections. It was true, he had as a 
saucy boy, before he left his home, offered 
her personal rudeness, and had his head 
split with a spade; but as to his being the 
murderer of her lover, though deeply im- 
pressed with the conviction, she had no 
means of supporting the charge. She, how- 
ever, resolutely rejects all his proffers of 
assistance for herself and her father; but 
when finally they come to their last bit of 
bread, and Glennon still presses his suit, 
she at last reluctantly gives her consent to 
the sister’s marriage. - The wedding-day 
arrives, and the ceremony begins, when sud- 
denly a face appears through the window, 
which startles Glennon, and he rushes out 
of the church ; but quickly returns to apolo- 
gize and complete the solemnities. The 
parties drive immediately towards his resi- 
dence, when half-a-dozen strange-looking 
fellows on horseback in foreign dresses meet 
him and accompany them home. ‘To his 
great apparent vexation, he is obliged to 
absent himself with them, and does not re- 
turn to the wondering bride till ten at night, 
when they sit down to dinner, and in com- 
pany with these rough and odd-looking 
persons. In the meanwhile, near midnight, 
appears at Letitia’s cottage, a dying person, 
who, on being admitted, proclaims Glennon 
the murderer she felt he was—and the hus- | 
band of another. To rescue her sister, she 
rushes to Glennon’s house, finds her in bed, 
and Glennon every instant expected. He 
comes, and Letitia challenges him as a mur- 
derer, and calls upon her sister to shrink 
from pollution. A passionate scene en- 
sues, in which Glennon confesses himself 
the guilty person, but still implores the fond 
bride to abide by him. Letitia’s importu- 
nity finally prevails with her, when Glennon 
summons his myrmidons—they were a gang 
of pirates, and Glennon their Captain—to 
carry the bride by force to the vessel, now in 
the river. A ruffian seizes her—Letitia 
clings—and Glennon maddening at the ob- 
struction, is on the point of plunging his 
sword into her bosom, when a tumult from 
without arrests the blow. This proceeded 
from a posse of the police with a warrant of 
