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THERE is not certainly any thing more pleasing in the hour of relaxation from severer studies, or when the mind seeks relief from a constant and rigid attention to the worldly affairs of the day, than the perusal of a moral and entertaining novel. Nothing indeed can be considered as more unfounded nor invidious than the outcry which has been so unjustly raised by a certain class of individuals against that particular species of literature, and the severe injunctions which have been issued against the introduction of a novel into the hands of the rising generation, is the mere effect of the

grossest prejudice, and the most narrow minded illiberality. A well written novel is a faithful picture of human life, with all its lights and shades, its sun-shines and its storms, and although at times some grotesque figure may

be delineated, which not only borders on caricature, but resembles some hideous nondescript on the boards of a Theatre, yet with the endless diversity of human character, who will pretend to affirm that its prototype is not to be found. The mariner who is kept in ignorance of the rocks on which his vessel may be wrecked, resembles the individual who is launched upon the dangerous ocean of life, without the chart of experience to guide him, and wholly a stranger to the snares which beset him at every step, to subvert his principles and his virtue. In this respect, the uses and advantages of a novel are very apparent; the vices which disfigure human nature are there exposed in all their native deformity, and the virtues, the practice of which throws such an enlivening charm over human society, are held forth as the only rule of moral action, from which real happiness can possibly emanate. If it be urged, that the general tendency of a novel is to pourtray vice triumphant, and virtue persecuted, we have only to turn our eyes to the actual scenes of life, to discover, that it is perfectly consistent with truth, and conformable to the actual condition of man, as established by his Maker, which consists in a severe and incessant state of trial, and in which he is exposed to continual temptation, in order that he may overcome it, for therein consists the dignity of human nature. The virtue which has not undergone the ordeal of temptation, is but a negative.virtue at best, and although in the novel as in life, virtue may be for a time assailed, persecuted and oppressed, the time will come, when the hideous front of vice will be exposed, and virtue reap the just reward of its noble struggle.

On these principles are founded the scenes of the “ Brothers," and if on their perusal any one should say—“this is meant for me,” —the wish of the Author will be fulfilled, if by the delineation of the consequences resulting from a career of vice, the individual should commence the reformation of himself, and at the end of his earthly sojourn, he should sleep the sleep of the virtuous, and die in the fullest hope of forgiveness from his God.





Prepare to hear
A story, that shall turn thee into stone;
Could there be hewn a monstrous gap in Nature,
A flaw made through the centre by some god,
Through which the groans of ghosts might strike thy ear
They would not wound thee as this story will.

IT is a tale of the times of old !-Death has long since had its victims, and corruption its tributethe deeds of the virtuous are numbered the acts of the criminal stand in record against him;

- When the dreaded book is opened—well for the former !_Woe to the latter!

On the eastern shore of the Lake of Geneva, stood in proud but decaying magnificence the

Vol. 1. No. 1.

Castle of Niolo. It stood in gloomy grandeur frowning on the scene around it. The upper branches of the oaks which surrounded it, declared their third century was come, for seldom the axe had been heard in the woods, and seldom were the forests stripped to satisfy the extravagance of a spendthrift heir. During a long course of generations, it had been the abode of the powerful family of the Lindamores, and since their accession to the estates, it had been their pride and boast, that they had descended from heir to heir uninjured and unincumbered.

The present proprietor, Count Frederic Lindamore, was far advanced in years, and of the most sober and retired pursuits. He had been a widower from an early age, and the loss of the woman whom he loved, rendered the solitude in which he lived doubly dear to him. He was the father of two sons, Frederic and Leopold, and it was his hope, that they would be the support of his declining age, and smooth his passage to another world. As, however, they advanced towards manhood, that hope by degrees was blighted. The vicious and untractable dispositions of Leopold manifested themselves at an early age, and parental controul appeared to him an usurpation of power not to be endured.

The temper of the two brothers was most opposite—that of Frederic was mild, peaceable, and conciliating-whilst on the other hand, that of Leopold was stabborn, boisterous, and pas

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