But this is not all-not only must the repentant Ellen relinquish every hope of obtaining such a companion and protector as the virtuous Maitland might have been to her -she is now called to resign also her incstimable monitor, who expires in the triumph of Christian assurance!

Bereaved of Miss M. she is again cast upon the world -"without an eye to pity. She wanders from place to place, enduring a variety of suffering-still patient-still submissive! In the conclusion-she again meets with Maitland in the highlands of Scotland; his real name was Graham-the son of a chief-and the beloved of his family. To him she is united; for he found her now "no longer the arrogant girl, whose understanding, dazzled by prosperity, was blind to his merits-whose heart, hardened by vanity, was insensible to his love-no longer the thoughtless being, whose hopes and wishes were engrossed by the most unsubstantial of all the cheats that delude us in this world of shadows-but a humbled creature, thankful to find in his sound mind and study principles, a support for her acknowledged weakness—a traveller to a better country, pleased to meet a fellow pilgrim, who animating her diligence, and checking her wanderings, might sooth the toils of her journey, and rejoice with her forever in its blessed termination."

We have purposely avoided any thing like a detailed view of the incidents of this tale, but confined ourself to the " bringing out" of its main object. The web of the narrative, however, is woven with sufficient skill to detain the idle, and, we hope, it may arouse the careless to serious meditation on the important moral which it is intended to inculcate.

NO FICTION; OR, THE TEST OF FRIENDSHIP.

THE singular title at the head of our page would seem to imply a story-it is therefore asked on all hands-Is it a Novel? If a Novel mean a fiction, the author says it is "No Fiction." If a Novel means a new story-then it is a Novel, for the book contains a story, with a beginning, middle, and end, and powerfully sustained throughout. If this intimation should induce our readers to take it up, the result will probably be, that the serious will read it, every page with delight and edification, whilst another class, will run their eye from page to page to pick out the story, and will declare at last that the whole is overstrained! To apologize for this anticipation, we must now tell them that the staple of the book, is deep, genuine, religious reflection. We are not, ourselves, very fond of this mode of conveying religious instruction. Let us sit down to theology under its own proper name-and let us have a Novel for a lighter hour, always premising however, that piety should be the governing principle of every Novel to which we would give our sanction. Perhaps no writer of Novels has deserved more respect than Mrs. West for this characteristic of her works. All her best characters are religious.

"No Fiction" bears the stamp of truth, at least so far as the incidents are concerned-they are exceedingly interesting, but neither romantic nor surprising; all flow easily and naturally, from the circumstances. The actors are

few, and they act like human nature-but some of them we fear, are made to speak and feel as human natureseldom does. Douglass and Lefevre were friends. Both were young, and alike possessed of a taste for literature, for the grand and beautiful in nature-and an ardent desire to improve their minds, and increase their religious knowledge. Douglass was a settled christian. Lefevre of more susceptible temperament, but with the most honourable and upright intentions, often mistook passion for reason and fell into her snares. His falls, his affections, his recoveries, and the noble and unconquerable attachment of his friend, form the entertainment prepared in this narrative.

Lefevre's account of his first leaving home, to go into business in London, will be read with sympathy by every mother.

"Of my residence and relations I need say nothing; and the events of my boyish life would scarcely have any thing to distinguish them from those of most boys at the same period of existence. Perhaps the first occurrence that is worth mentioning, is my departure from the maternal roof. I retain, and shall ever retain, a lively impression of the feelings of that day. I seem to hear the stage-coach rattling up the paved street. I seem to feel my mother's kisses-first impressed in the parlour-then renewed in the passage-and finally repeated on the steps at the door. I fancy I see her standing on the spot where we last embraced; the tears running down her cheek, as she said, 'My dear Charles, beware of the snares of London!'-and then, as we separated, clasping her hands and

looking towards the heavens, regardless of spectators, earnestly exclaim, 'God Almighty keep my child!" Vol. I. page 38.

Having been soberly educated, the habits of his young acquaintances in the Metropolis were somewhat shocking to his feelings.

"Perhaps one of the worst effects of this intercourse was, that it begat light thoughts of religion and of the sabbath. I well remember the feelings of one sabbath, which I had devoted to recreation and amusement; and which, as my companions insisted, were so needful after the confinement and labour of the week. I returned, in the evening, to my dwelling, more fatigued than by the duties of any common day, and dissatisfied with pleasures which my heart told me were mixed with sin. I retired to my chamber. Former days came to my mind. The words of my mother-Beware of the snares of London! sunk in my heart. I sighed-I thought I would beware in future—I kneeled down and prayed to God to be my keeper.

"Must I tell you, my friend, how soon these impressions were removed, and my vows broken!-that they were often renewed, and as often violated, with more carelessness of the consequences each time!-so that I know not what I might have been at this moment, but for a season of affliction."

His early principles however, are sustained by a timely acquaintance with Douglass, assisted by two excellent people with whom he lodged, who are thus finely described.

"Mr. Russell was unusually tall, portly, and of fine presence; with such an appearance of strength and dienito

as to excite unmixed awe in the mind, had it not been united with a remarkable expression of meekness and benevolence in his countenance. His dispositions were, habitually calm, contemplative, and devotional. He had become almost 'the man of one book;' that book was the Bible; and on this he seemed rather to feed than to speculate. Religion with him was not so much an object of pursuit, as the element in which he constantly dwelt. Its influence appeared to raise him above this life; and you would have thought him unconnected with earth, had it not been for the affection he discovered as a husband, a father, and a friend. He passed through the world as a pilgrim, ignorant of its cunning, and unruffled by its uproar; and, if, in his passage, some events had power to agitate the surface of his passions, like the deep sunk well, he seemed to contain beneath, those fresh springs of happiness which were inaccessible to all external accidents.

"On the whole, there was something highly apostolic about him. Frequently, after Douglass and Lefevre have witnessed his serene and heavenly piety, rendered impressive by a majestic figure, crowned with locks bleached to the whiteness of snow by the hand of time, have they repeated these beautiful lines of Goldsmith:

"Like some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm: Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head."