sonable to expect that where such a commencement is realized, the beginnings will be small. That Mr. Medhurst is an able and zealous servant in the cause cannot be doubted; and his book furnishes one among many instances where piety, chivalrous enterprise, knowledge, and literary skill, have all united to adorn and dignify the character of the Christian missionary.

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ART. IX.-Homeward Bound; or, the Chase. A Tale of the Sea. BY J. FENIMORE COOPER, Esq. 3 Vols. London: Bentley. 1838. To produce a novel worth reading now-a-days we consider to be one of the most considerable efforts of genius. All the requisite talents required for this end we hold are seldom found in one individual. The successful novelist must combine in his own person the qualities peculiar to the poet, the philosopher, the historian and the dramatist; he must invent discriminately, narrate judiciously, and give a correct portraiture of character and passion, acting in their various scenes and producing their wonted effects. Untrammelled by the shackles which surround the poet from the neces, to sity he lies under of arranging his ideas in verse, the novelist is therefore required to show a greater fidelity in his exhibitions of yo nature. He must not exceed a becoming and useful exaggeration, nor must he ever wrap his ideas in a misty cloudiness of languagehe must be distinct, graphic and true. Incidents are to be imagined not so trifling as to create weariness, nor so extravagant as to engender doubts as to their reality; in fact, a novel must be a picture of life, and the characters presented in it must have that diversity without an excessive mixture of the wonderful which is found in the ordinary course of things. Unity of action is essential; the story must have a beginning, middle, and end. A string of events connected by no other tie than that they happened to the same individual, which is often put forth as an historical novel, is far from being so we consider the most exalted name that can be given to works of this sort is a fictitious history or memoir; they certainly approach not our idea of what a novel should be.

Having imagined a series of connected events, all tending to one point and depending upon a simple action, and drawn also a group of ideal characters, this is not all nor perhaps the most difficult portion of the task the novelist has to accomplish. In doing this he has but chosen the canvas and sketched in outline his intended picture. It remains to regulate the whole, and to invest the figures, with the hues and colours of life; to make a proper distinction of light and shade according to the relative importance of the scenes introduced; and to charm the eye of the beholder with a pleasing variety, taking particular care not to offend it by any forced or sudden contrasts. Propriety in garb and manners must be preserved, according to the time and place which the artist aims to present. If he goes back

to a former period, he must combine the knowledge of the antiquary with that of the historian, or the keeping of the work will be defective, and it will belong to the class of modern antiques. He must identify himself with the spirit of the olden time, before he can bring others into the illusion. A traveller's acquaintance with distant scenes must be attained, before he can divert his reader's imagination from the view of his native plains and hills. If he prefer remaining at home and sketching domestic scenes, he will find it hard to dignify what is common, and to excite interest without violating probability. Events and characters in humble life must be ennobled by the elevation of passion and sentiment, or invested with the soft charm of affection and quiet, or rendered lively by ridicule and humorous contrast. The monotony of rank and society, the uniform and decorous manners of the higher classes, among whom enthusiasm does not exist, must be varied by wit and disquisition, or exposed by satire. The personages must be individualized and painted at full length, so as to command the sympathy of the most careless beholder with their actions and feelings, while the novelist must leave them traits enough in common to stand as the representatives of a class. From all that we have said it may be inferred that the field which the novelist has open before him is extensive, and the effect which he may hope to produce vast. Indeed there is no mode of talent or kind of information which is not available to him, and of these materials the genuine novel writer constructs a philosophy of life, more true than any that may be gleaned from the pages of the historian. The reputation of Mr. Cooper, the well-known author of the volumes before us, is such that it would be almost a work of supererogation to make any very lengthy remarks upon his manner of writing. His style is sprightly, pointed, easy, correct, and expressive, without being too studiously guarded against the opposite faults. It is without affectation, parade, or labour. If we were to characterize a manner, which owes much of its merit to the absence of any glaring characteristic, we should perhaps say, that it is, above the style of all other writers of the day, marked with an expressive elegance. He never buries up the clearness and force of the meaning under a heap of fine words; nor on the other hand does he think it necessary to be coarse, slovenly, or uncouth, in order to be emphatic.

The number of his works in this department of fiction is very numerous. About eighteen years have elapsed since he published "Precaution," his first work, but one of little merit, and which soon passed quietly into oblivion. "The Spy, a Tale of the Neutral Ground," came next, and at once established his reputation for ability, and excited confident expectations of his future success. Then followed, in rapid succession, "The Pioneers," "The Pilot," "The Last of the Mohicans," "Lionel Lincoln," "The Prairie," and "The Wept of Wish-ton-Wish,"-all relating to American

scenes and characters. One of these, "The Pilot," and two others subsequently published, "The Red Rover," and "The Water Witch," are the fruits of several years' connexion with the American navy, and attest the writer's thorough acquaintance with the men and things of the sea. During his residence in Europe, he produced four novels of a European character, "The Bravo," "The Heidenmauer," "The Headsman," "The Monikins," and that of which the title stands at the head of this article. These make up the full list of Mr. Cooper's novels.

It would be unjust to ascribe much of our author's success to the fact that he entered an untrodden field, and was the first to employ the copious materials for fiction afforded by the history of his native country, and the character of its early inhabitants. Endowed with considerable power of observation, a talent for lively description, and great facility in imagining incidents and weaving them together in clear and spirited narrative, he was sure of exciting curiosity and giving interest to whatever subject he touched. He has that skill in narration, the first requisite of a novelist, which, fastening the reader's attention on the issue of events immediately before him, will not allow him to observe any improbability in the plot, or incongruity in the character and actions of the agents. Take, for instance, that scene of breathless interest from "The Last of the Mohicans," the attack and defence of the island at Glenn's Falls. When we almost hear the sharp crack of the rifles, mingling with the sullen and continued roar of the cataract, and see each new expedient of the savage assailants met and foiled by the skill and activity of the scout and his Indian associates, who can pause to think on the gross improbability of the events, by which the party were betrayed into their exposed situation? It must be owned, however, that the author abuses his power. The imminent dangers and hair-breadth escapes occur too frequently, till we lose to the feeling of concern and suspense, and confide too much in the courage and sagacity of the actors, for effecting their own deliverance.

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Of all Mr. Cooper's novels, those relating and sketching life on the ocean find most favour with us. It is in them that he appears to be in his proper and appropriate element, and upon them we believe his reputation will ultimately depend. In these productions, he has opened a new mine of romance, accomplishing for the sea and sailors what had before been done by others for the land and landsmen; giving us real pictures of life upon the ocean, and displaying before us with a vigour which has not been equalled, the interest that attaches to a sailor's occupation; and executing in a manner hardly to be surpassed, graphic and picturesque delineations of the manners and habits of those beings who spend their lives upon the vasty deep. Man, in his sea novels, is presented before us, energetic, daring, and skilful; the sport

of the waves in their wildest moments, or eluding their blind force by his ingenuity.

The contest of human skill with the angry elements, carried on upon the noble theatre of the illimitable waters, is no theme to be touched by a faltering and unskilful hand. The sublimity is in the subject, and no artificial colouring is required to heighten the effect. Simple, but picturesque strokes of description, and thorough acquaintance with the different aspects of the heavens and the ocean, with the management of a ship, and the peculiarities of sailors, are the secret of this writer's success in his maritime sketches.

We pass now to our immediate subject, "Homeward Bound." This novel is among the best of our author's sea-tales; it contains many exciting incidents, and lively as well as vigorous sketches of life on the ocean. The pictures presented are faithful both in their grouping and separate individuality. The story consists of a detail of the adventures of the vessel" Montauk." The tale begins with a list of the crew and passengers, whose various peculiarities are in proper keeping to produce the diversified scene in which they are shortly to be the actors. This will, perhaps, suffice to explain the sort of material Mr. Cooper has worked with, and produced, as we think," a most spirited sketch of nautical manners and habits. The voyage. of the packet commenced with the unsuccessful attempt of an attor ney who wished to capture one Robert Davis, a passenger, who had married his bride without the consent of her guardians; certain other passengers having sided, however, with him, his pursuer is foiled and the ship sails. But scarcely had the vessel shoved off, when it was thought that a more powerful emissary of majesty was in chase, and it was presently discovered, past all doubt, that the Foam was in pursuit of the liner. A desire, not to be impeded in his passage, appears to have prevailed with the captain to quicken the ship's pace, and keep a head of his pursuer, but, in the end, he had to pay dearly for this trial of skill. Perhaps before going any further into detail, it would be as well to present our readers with a sample of the work. Here is then a dialogue showing the sufferings of stewards from the inquisitiveness of passengers :

Steward,' called out Mr. Dodge, through the blinds of his state-room; ' whereabouts, are we?'

"In the British Channel, sir.'

"I might have guessed that myself.'

So, suppose, sir; nobody is better at guessing and divining than Mr. Dodge.'

But in what part of the Channel are we, Saunders ?'

About the middle, sir.'

How far have we come in the night?'

From Portsmouth Roads to this place, sir.'

Mr. Dodge was satisfied, and the steward, who would not have dared to be so explicit with any other cabin-passenger, continued coolly to mix an omelette. The next attack was made from the same room, by Sir George Templemore.

are?'

Steward, my good fellow, do you happen to know whereabouts we

Certainly, sir; the land is still quite obvious.'.

Are we getting on cleverly?'

"Nicely, sir;' with a mincing emphasis on the first word, that betrayed there was a little waggery about the grave-looking mulatto.

"And the sloop-of-war, steward ?*

"Nicely too, sir.'

"There was a shuffling in the state-room, followed by a silence. The door of Mr. Sharp's room was now opened an inch or two and the following questions issued through the crevice:

Is the wind favourable, steward?'

"Just her character, sir.'

"Do you mean that the wind is favourable?'

"For the Montauk, sir; she's a persuader in this breeze.';

"But is she going in the direction we wish?'

"If the gentleman wishes to perambulate America, it is probable he will get there with a little patience.'

** Mr. Sharp pulled-to his door, and ten minutes passed without further questions; the steward beginning to hope the morning catechism was over, though he grumbled a wish that gentlemen would turn out' and take a look for themselves.-The next door that opened was that of Paul Blunt, however, who thrust his head into the cabin, with all his dark curls in the confusion of a night scene.

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Steward!'

Sir.'

"How's the wind?'

"Quite exhilarating, sir.'

But, from what quarter?'

About south, sir.'

"Is there much of it?'

"A prevailing breeze, sir.'

"And the sloop?"

She's to lecward, sir, operating along as fast as she can.' "Steward!'

!

Sir,' stepping hurriedly out of his pantry, in order to hear more dis

The steward is a true sailor and a bit of a wit; there is a quietness and repose in his manner which give an appearance of truth and soberness to the narrative, and make us think the scene described more real than those of a similar nature found in Captain Marryatt's