cannot extract something at least tolerable, which, preceded by high praise, printed in italics, pointed up, and followed by notes of admiration, is thought very fine indeed by the generality of readers, who take our opinion on credit, and never form one themselves."

Still," said Lucy, "when you review a novel and give an abstract of the story, you cannot do it without reading a good deal of the tale."

"Headings to the chapters are a great help to the reviewer in that respect," replied Grinlay Snarl," and those authors who neglect to put headings' and use mottoes in verse, in the old fashion, must take the consequences, and be often misconceived; but a few pages at the beginning of the book, and a peep at the catastrophe (if the headings are judicious), are quite enough for a practised reviewer."

"Ah," said Lucy, "that may be the way experienced critics, who are often, indeed, I hear, generally, disappointed authors, set to

work, but this can only come with disappointment, which sharpens malice, and time, which blunts the dislike to give pain, and renders the conscience callous to the sense of literary injustice."

"Bravo!" said Grinlay; "she'll do, Mrs. Blair, she's got it in her, she'll give it 'em well in time, and, en attendant, let me tell you, Miss Lucy, an honest, impartial review, from a clever young writer, with a sound judgment and a kind heart, comes in very well occasionally; and you may say just what you think about this little Hand-book of Etiquette, and this poem called 'LUCILE,' by Owen Meredith. I have chosen them out of piles and piles of works, sent to the office for reviewing, because we are not as a party or a clique bound to attack either the authors or publishers of these works, and have no reason for cutting up their books; then I know, too, how you would shrink from severity of criticism, most beginners do (like young surgeons

VOL. III.

E

who faint at a first incision, but cut you up neatly without wincing after a time), and I really think an unprejudiced critic, who wishes to be just, can give the highest praise to John Cassell's little Hand-book of Etiquette, and for the small sum of one shilling, make sure of not committing any blunders in his intercourse with society; while, on the other hand, I have no doubt so enthusiastic an admirer of the poet's father as Miss Lucy is, will find it a labour of love to do justice to the son, and to prove that genius is hereditary, in a review of Lucile."

little idea of the form in which these things are done?"

and you say,

"Simply thus; you take up this little book, "The Hand-book of Etiquette,' Cassell, Petter, and Galpin,10, La Belle Sauvage Yard; and then I give you carte blanche to say what I am sure you will think of the little work in question. I know you will see how com

pletely Christian principle is the basis of the author's fabric; how good feeling and good taste united give birth to tact; how in true politeness, idle ceremony and futile affectation yield to simplicity of manners and kindness of heart, and how many useful hints are collected, mooted points decided, and knotted ones unravelled. Why, to many people it's worth ten times the price of the book to know exactly how to address noblemen, great people in office, and persons in different ranks of society, and to feel certain as to what is comme il faut with regard to visiting, &c. In short, I think you may say that there is no one, from the Peer to the Peasant, who may not learn something from this little volume, and that it should not only find its way into every house, but into every hand. With regard to Lucile, I need not warn you (as I do our 'subs' at the office), in a general way to avoid the common-places of criticism."

"What do you call common-places ?" asked

Lucy.

"Such remarks as these:-' The best роет of the season.' 'We have read this book through with breathless interest, and at a sitting.' We congratulate the public, the author, and ourselves. No one can rise from the perusal of this admirable work without feeling himself a wiser and a better man.' 'We have to record the appearance of a new star of the first magnitude in the literary firmament.' 'This poem appeals alike to the head and the heart of the reader, and is an evidence of the existence of the highest qualities of both in the gifted author.' Mr. So-and-so will go forth like Lord

Byron after the publication of Childe Harold, to find himself famous.'

"I have often read such critiques as those," said Lucy," and I quite understand now what you mean by the common-places of criticism; those notices convey no distinctive idea to one's mind."