Then let us rightly learn to know Number One. 4. Agrarian Stories. Fanny Forrester. Philadelphia; Joseph Latimer. 18mo. 1837. THIS little story is the first of an intended series. The design is admirable. It is to expose the folly, wickedness, and miserable consequences of the immoral and disorganizing principles that of late years have been so industriously spread among the more ignorant classes. The present number contains the story of a servant girl, brought up in a kind and virtuous family, and afterwards married to a mechanic, who had, unknown to her, imbibed these foolish and hurtful doctrines. His wretched career illustrates the proper influence of these doctrines in sapping the foundations of religion, morality, and industry, and thus destroying individual happiness as well as law and public order. But, much as we commend the design of the proposed series, and deeply as we are interested in every effort made by wise men and true lovers of our country to check the progress of corrupt and destructive principles; just so anxious are we that the work should be well done, done in the way to do the most extended and effectual good. He does not In this respect we fear the writer will fail. seem to understand for whom he writes. The style is wanting in that simplicity and clearness of expression which ought, above all things, to mark writings intended to do good among the less cultivated classes. In this little story of thirty-six pages we marked some forty words and forms of construction which should never have been found in such a tract; such as "adscititious aids "_" inauspicious group" of children-the body"returning through the process of corruption to its ori ginal dust"-" profluvium of words," &c., &c. "Cousin Isabelle" ought not to have been made to talk in this way. Her style of conversation is as far from the simple elegance which is the greatest charm of a truly cultivated woman as it is unfitted to do good in the quarter for which the story is intended. In conclusion, we earnestly recommend the author to study Hannah More's Cheap Repository tracts, writ They ten with a similar praiseworthy purpose as his own. are a model for this sort of writing. They did immense good in England; and the writer of the Agrarian Stories, if he can succeed in imitating their clearness and simplicity, truth and spirit, will be a great benefactor to this country. 5. Live and Let Live; or, Domestic Service Illustrated. By the Author of "Hope Leslie," "The Linwoods," "The Poor Rich Man and the Rich Poor Man," &c. New-York: Harper & Brothers. 1837. pp. 216. WE respect Miss Sedgwick for the motive and intention of her later writings, and for the most part we admire their tone and spirit. We freely own that the narrowness, injustice, and sectarian bitterness-joined at the same time with an arrogation of superior enlargement and liberality—which marked her "New England Tale," and traces of which appeared in some of her subsequent works, excited our disgust. Of all the cants of this canting world, the cants of religious "liberality," which finds its chief scope in drawing revolting pictures of individuals of a different faith, and setting them forth as true por. traits of a whole body, is the most disgusting. There is this to be said, however, in extenuation of Miss Sedgwick's earliest writings, that such a fashion of liberality was exceedingly prevalent in those days among those with whom she thought and lived. They have improved a great deal since then, we are glad to admit it but Miss Sedgwick herself has risen entirely above that narrow spirit into the freer air of a genuine philanthropy and true Christian charity. In her later writings, whatsoever there is of a religious utterance, is the expression of "religion undefiled" by the faults to which we have adverted. But it is not of this that we intended chiefly to speak. We think Miss Sedgwick is entitled to the respect and gratitude of the good and right-minded for the special direction which she has recently given to the exertion of her high talents. Her later writings are eminently useful, in a good and high sense. of that much-perverted word: they are calculated to do good in a wide and much-neglected sphere. There is a sound, wholesome moral tone in them. They are admirably fitted to free the mind from the slavery of fashion, of false and unenlightened opinion; to make us more like rational beings in our desires, aims, and maxims of living; and to diffuse those principles and sentiments which are the nurse of the best virtues, and the security for the truest happiness of life. The first of the series to which we refer was "Home," an excellent little book, though inferior in spirit and interest to those which follow it. Then came "The Poor Rich Man and the Rich Poor Man," full of interesting incident, nice and accurate observation of life and human nature, fine traits of delineation of character, rich humour, and occasional touches of exquisite pathos. It made us laugh, and it made us cry; and, what is more, it has made us better; and we are persuaded that it has made thousands better-elevated them in the character of rational and moral beings-made them wiser, freer, happier, by teaching them what there is in life worth living for, and where to look for the purest sources of earthly well-being-not in things, but in ourselves-in the performance of life's every-day duties, and in the exercise of the affections and charities that centre in a virtuous home. To that has now succeeded the "Live and Let Live,”—written with the same praiseworthy spirit. It is designed to expose and correct the faults of masters and mistresses in their relations to their servants. The story of Lucy Lee, reduced by her father's vices and follies to the neccessity of going to service, carries us through the several families in which she successively served. The establishments of the vulgar and niggardly Mrs. Broadson, the good-natured but indolent and thoughtless Mrs. Ardley, the frivolous and fashionable Mrs. Hartell, furnish many a graphic sketch: and give, we fear, an over-true picture of vices and follies that abound in fashionable life, and especially of that heartless inconsideration and indolent selfishness in the treatment of servants from which spring so large a share of the vexations that form the burden of complaint among house-keepers. There is many a page in which the faults and follies of higher life are mirrored with so true a reflection, that we imagine more than one face must have burned with shame at the sight. Finally, in the character and house-keeping maxims of Mrs. Hyde, the author gives us her ideal of a true lady and good mistress; and, on the whole, it is a very good one, though Mrs. Hyde is a thought too much of apattern woman-the slightest approximation in the world to a precieuse. By a little over-drawing in two or three particulars, the author has made her what Miss Edgeworth calls a little "prejinct." It would be impossible to give a clear view of the contents of this volume by analysis and extracts. We prefer to re commend the book itself to all mistresses who have not read it. Mean time we give two extracts as a specimen of the spirit and manner in which it is written : "One raw, disagreeable day, when the mercury was just enough above the freezing point to allow a heavy snow to thaw, Lucy came into the nursery with the two little girls whom she had led from school, that being one of the duties included in her odds and ends.' 'My dear Belle,' said her mother, why are you crying?' "It's so cold, mother, Lucy could hardly help crying. Lucy, please make haste and take off my rubbers.' Lucy did her best, but her hands were benumbed, and she was less dexterous than usual. What ails you, Lucy? your fingers are all thumbs.' 6 "I should think they would be, mother,' said little Belle, who had inherited her mother's constitutional kind-heartedness; she had not any gloves, and she could not keep her hands under her cloak, because she had to take hold of our hands, you know; and besides, her shoes have holes in them, and her feet are wet.' "My dear, if girls will go out with ragged shoes, they must expect wet feet. Why did you not change your shoes, Lucy?' "I have no others, ma'am.' "Then pray buy a pair the first time you go out; but, in the mean time, look in my closet; you will find a basket there with half a dozen pairs more or less worn-take them all, if they suit you.' "Oh, thank you, ma'am! May I give a pair to mother, Mrs. Ardley?' "What an idea! Your mother wear my shoes! did you ever notice my foot, child?' "Yes, ma'am, but mother's is very small too; and noise troubles father so much, that a pair of light shoes will be a great comfort.' "Do what you like with them, child, you are both welcome to them. But don't let me see you with holes in your shoes. If there is any thing that I can't put up with, it is an untidy-looking servant. That's just the way,' continued Mrs. Ardley, after Lucy had gone in quest of the shoes; 'servants never provide themselves with walking-shoes, and they go spattering about in the wet, and then bark, bark all winter-it is too annoying to hear them.' Poor Lucy, the immediate cause of this denunciation, having, before earned, predestined every cent of her wages to her mother's necessities, had looked with dismay upon her decaying shoes. If the generosity with which Mrs. Ardley had lavished half a dozen pairs of but half-worn delicate kid shoes upon Lucy had provided her with a single pair of stout walking-shoes, the child would have been saved from such discomfort and suffering. But she had not yet learned that it was her duty to know the actual condition of her domestics, to watch over their health, and, as far as she was qualified by superior judgment, to regulate their expenses. If she had even inquired into Lucy's, she would have been touched with the child's virtue; for Mrs. Ardley was far from being an unfeeling woman; she was only thoughtless, indolent, and self-indulgent. Few women are exposed to glaring vices, but let them beware of the moth and rust that consume their virtues. "The consequence of Lucy's exposure was soon apparent in a severe cold. The running up and down stairs in the irritated state of her lungs gave her pain, and, ignorant as she was of diseases, sad forebodings. "After crawling about for two or three days with a burning cheek and short breath, she was laid on her bed, and Mrs. Ardley's physician being summoned, he pronounced her very ill with inflammation of the lungs. The virtues of Betsy (Sophy's successor) were now called into requisition, and they amply atoned for the want of the graces that belong to polished service. Like most American bred domestics,* she had been accustomed to multifarious service. Her talents had been developed by a life of exigencies. She used her head as well as her hands, and, as Lucy found, her heart for the direction of both. 'What is your mother's number, Lucy?' asked her kind attendant; Mrs. Ardley says David shall go for her.' "Oh, please, Betsy, don't send to mother-she cannot come, and it will only make her miserable to know that I am sick. I will give you as little trouble as I can-set the drink by my bed—that is all I want.' 666 It is not the trouble I mind, Lucy, but your mother is the fittest person to be with you. Why cannot she come?' Lucy explained the sad why, and Betsy, brushing off a tear, said, 'You are right-we must not put another drop in a cup too full already. If Mrs. Ardley will only allow me time, I can do every thing for you. Let me see your blister.' The blister was just opened, when Mrs. Ardley's bell rung. 'There I must go-let it be till I return.' Betsy went down two pairs of stairs to Mrs. Ardley's room. was Miss Anne rang the bell, Betsy-tell Betsy what you want, my dear.' 'It "Have you seen my doll's muff, Betsy?' Betsy had not. 'Just look for it, please, Betsy.' 666 Dolly can wait, I guess-I must go back to Lucy's blister.' "Look first,' interposed the mother. 'Miss Anne wants to take her doll down Broadway. Have you sent David for Lucy's mother?' Betsy explained why she had not. How annoying!' resumed Mrs. Ardley; how is she to be taken care of here?' 666 "Oh, I can manage well enough if the children won't ring me down to wait on their babies. There's your dolly's muff, Anne; and now, if you will go up our sky-parlour, and see poor Lucy's blister, you'll be sorry for her.' We once heard an Englishwoman, a competent judge, say that the very best domestics she had ever seen, excepting the Scotch, who did not surpass them, were the American female domestics in Boston. |