652 
densio Hesis now nearly eighty years” of 
age; and for the last twenty years-has had 
a) pension from the crown; which has re- 
cently been augmented—a personal favour 
which may account’ for, and extenuate, the 
fulsome ‘hyperbolies of his loyalty. He has 
-been, unhappily, blind for very many years, 
and now resides at Chichester. 
O'Keefe is one of those who, we sus- 
pect, has ruined the drama by clap-traps— 
boring us with British superiorities—feel- 
ings, generosity, frankness, and valour— 
till the perpetual recurrence of such absur- 
dities has disgusted and revolted the good 
sense of the nation, and left the theatres 
a source of amusement—for children and 
shop-boys. 
We indulge the lovers of puns with one 
of O’Keefe’s. During the run of the ‘ Lon- 
don Hermit,’ he met Mr. Merry and Mr. 
Andrews somewhere or other ;—‘ Why the 
devil,’ says Andrews, ‘do you make Jack 
Bannister (Young Pranks) j jump’ over the 
table ??—* Aye,’ says Merry, ‘ your most 
exquisite reason for that ?”—‘ Odd enough,’ 
‘says O'Keefe, ‘that a jumping Pranks 
should be objected to by Merry Andrews.’ 
The Tor Hill; by the Author of Bram- 
bletye-House ; 3 vols. 12mo.—The writer 
sketches vigorously and works well upon 
points, but he exhibits no grouping powers ; 
the subordinate agents do not gather well 
round the main figure. The interest is dis- 
tracted, and the effect weakened by the 
want of concentrating force. With high 
executive powers and extensive knowledge 
of the times—got up for the occasion, per- 
haps—but no matter—the tale nevertheless 
is ill and clumsily told. The failure, how- 
ever, is fairly attributable to the effects of 
haste. The mischief lies at the door of 
the existing system of writing and publish- 
ing—the fruits of trading and puffing. Mo- 
ney, money must be made. ‘There is a 
present demand, and the article must be 
supplied. Though flimsy in texture, it is 
brilliant in appearance; it shews well if it 
will not wear well; it is fashionable—it 
takes—it sells ; the maker has aname, and 
he is a fool who will not, in the phrase of 
our changeable climate, make hay while the 
sun shines. It is with writing, as itis with 
our manufactures: time and material must 
be spared to the utmost. One volume is 
printed before a syllable of the third is 
written. The first conceptions—crude and 
indefinite—must thus be worked up; no 
opportunity of reconsidering, of remodelling 
of reducing, is given. Want of compact- 
ness is inevitable ; and consistency must be 
brought about by accommodation, by patch- 
ing and tinkering. The effect is visible in 
the changes of character and changes of 
agency. The character which at one time 
seemed destined to lead, another super- 
sedes or eclipses, and in its turn soon yields 
to a third, or to the revival of the first, with 
features which can with difficulty be recog- 
nized ; and persons again are introduced in 
Monthly Review of Literature, 
| EDec. 
the early part for wlrom'the writer — ehang- 
ing his views as he proceeds; and deprived 
of the power of cancelling—finds no ade- 
quate employment.) “Mr. Smith:has floated 
his vessel in the same;waters with Sir: Wal- 
ter Scott, and expects) evidently: to’ pass 
the rapids of ‘the ‘stream with the same 
sweeping ‘andsuccessful navigation... We 
doubt’ thats success: | With 'many. of) the 
capabilities ofa good: novelist} he: is. too 
precipitate and impetuous forthe amount 
of his experience: ’ He wants,the national 
caution of his predecessor. fis first efforts 
were his best. Mr. Smith’s| first. efforts 
remind us too strongly of the other’s last. 
Sir Walter ends carelessly ; Mr. Smith be- 
gins so—and what chance is there of his re- 
trograding to the point: of diligence. and 
Jabour ? Defeat, besides; will teach: him 
caution in yain; time will be lost—compe- 
titors will whip up; andhe a be: dis- 
tanced. ) onl i 
The scene opens in’ Calais, ‘at® the: time 
that place was oceupied’ by the English in 
the reign of Henry the Eighth, with Sir 
Giles Hungerford ‘and his’ nephew Poyns 
Dudley. Within the English lines nume- 
rous vagabond ‘adventurers’ were permit- 
ted to harbour, who contrived to live by 
predatory excursions to the French terri- 
tory. In one of these excursions consi- 
derable numbers were  intereepted’ and 
slaughtered. Sir Giles, who’ is ‘the “lieu- 
tenant-governor of Calais, and longing for 
nothing so much as opportunities’ for fight- 
ing, makes an oath of revenge. ~ He sallies 
out with some of Lis own men and the sur- 
viving adventurers, and'takés his meditated 
vengeance; but unluckily, in returning, he 
encounters a ‘superior foree, ‘a skirmish ‘en- 
sues, and he is mortally | wounded.’ ‘On his 
death-bed he imposes upon’ his nephew 
Dudley the charge’ of carrying his last 
wishes to the knight who has the manage- 
ment of his estate, and the guardianship of 
his only son, yet aminor.| This nuncupa- 
tive will, devising his property, in ease of 
the death of his son to the guardian, Dud- 
ley reduces to writing, and gets the dying 
man’s signature. 
Of Calais and its turbulent scenes we 
hear no more; Dudley proceeds forthwith 
to England—to Tor Hill—the seat of the 
dead Sir Giles, in the neighbourhood ‘of 
the noble abbey of Glastonbury. On his 
way he turns aside to see ‘the Wokey-hole 
in the Mendip-Hills. Im its dark recesses 
he gets entangled—the light, of Na by 
some accident or other is moe a uishied— 
and is finally extricated by the d rection ‘of 
a being from above, who has the’ ‘air of 
something unearthly, who sings’ efichant- 
ingly, and, from the hasty glance’ Sad bat 
taken of him, is youthful and singul but 
who vanishes before Dudley ‘gets'”2 above 
ground again, On arriving at Wells, hod 
sundry difficulties, he hears” a ‘very mi 
rious and very alarming “account” of" 
Lionel Fitzmaurice, the guardian” oF his 
