LITERATURE.

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 4, Issue 186, 12 April 1860, Page 4

LITERATURE.

The Nut-brown Maids ; or, the first Hosier and his Ilosen. A Family Chronicle of the dayß of Queen Elizabeth. London: John W. Parker and Son. In these days of novel writing .and novel tending, it is desirable to take special notice of those tales that have a healthy tone, and show some degree of genius. This is one of that class. It is a domestic story, and is full of those touches of nature that “ make the whole world kin.” The dramatis person* are Mr. Yorke,

a country squire of gentle blood and considerable learning, but under the pressure of the “ res angustse domi,” his daughters Cicely and Nan; the elder, with whom the story has chiefly fo do, having all the grace, dignity, and sobriety that make a woman admired, making up her m.ind that “ none will come to seek the daughters of the ruined Bar'ne-elms, fo.r what man weds without portion or power to buy his I condescending hand ?” and saying, “ Well, Nan' and I will be no nut-brown maids, to go sum? and begging for husbands ; we will work, and laugh, and say our prayers, and tell our tales, and grow wizened and grey-headed, verily after a bright instance, that of our godly and illustrious queen.” The younger, Nan, of a less sober temperament, who delights in teasing her courtier cousin Dick, when he pays them a ■‘L'i n £> visit ; and Was. Lee, a poor clerk of Cambridge, who falls in love with Mistress Cicely. Days of adversity come. Mr. Yorke is accused of dealing in the black art, and Dick is accused of complicity in Arundel’s conspiracy against the queen. They flee for safety to the continent, accompanied by Nan, who previously marries ber cousin, and Cicely is sent to relatives of her father at Crossley hall, who

nowever decline to x’eceive her, and, desolate and forlorn, she returns to her deserted ho.me. J here she meets with William Lee, to, whom she is immediately wedded, and shares with him, who loses his fellowship in consequence of his marriage, many years of bitter poverty, at the end supporting her family by stocking knitting, uuril brighter days begin to. dawn on them after his invention of the stocking loom. As a specimen of the beauty of some parts of the book we give the following scene, in which, after it is found that Yorke and Dick must ilee, Nan pleads with her father to go along with them, as she and Dick love each other; and the father has said, Nay, child, it cannot be.” 1 “ ‘ Nan/ interposed Dick, hoarsely, * say no more. If we be true, we may be reunited! when our blood is tbin, and our eyes are dim,! and our lips and hands and hearts are alike parched and withered—when we have but strength to totter into, each other’s arms, then I may have Nan, and she may have Dick. Great as his provocation has been, Master Yorke will not gainsay me in this/ “‘ A living death V raged Nan, ‘ Father, father, wilt break my heart before thy face ?’ Master Yorke passed his hand oyer his eyes. “ I do not doom thee, daughter—child Nan, that pulled the pied daisies a few short years ago—a woman crying for her lover ere I wisaed. What God hath joined I will not put asunder. Hey for new lands, a soldier’s bag gage or a beggar’s wallet for Nan—and ease and sumptuousness, and an old couple’s fondness, in the hall of Crossby for Cicely !’ “ ‘ Nay, father/ interrupted Cicely, ‘thou wilt not be unjust. Nan has loved Dick a few days, or weeks, or months, and I thee these many years. You will not leave me alone behind ?’

“• * It is a different love and a different portion, my Cicely. There is no equality between the-old and the young, and therefore no cleav: ing of the heart-strings, which, if snapped, the rupture leaves the rich world worthless.” “ ‘ You wrong my love, father,’ wept Cicely, * to think that I do not cal-e for thee more than the whole world besides-—that I can ever forget thee.’

“ 4 Sweet, innocent soul, thou dost care for me much ; I have marked it, Cicely; my heart has swelled in answer many a time, and thy Father in heaven will pay thee hacfe the debt pf thy father on earth,, Dost mark me, mOsc care for me much, I say— hut thy mother cared for me more; »uci so wilt thou one day learn to regard thy husband, my good, daughter.’ “ ‘Father,’ said Cicely,.violently, for the poor child’s heart was oppressed with the heavy. calamity and smitten with a sense of undeserved injury, and burning with swift jealousy, *if thou acceptest Nan’s company and rejectest mine, what am I to think ? lam the elder. Wherein have I come short of my duty ? In what did she outdo me ? When did I fear hardship ? Is it because she deceived us, and had Dick for her lover without ■ asking your consent, yea, without our privity ? Is she to be honoured and promoted, and am I to he set aside, forsaken, given over to the cold charity of strangers to sight if not to fclood ? I ever did my best. Is this all that duty and devotion have won, father ?’ “ Master Yorke at last arose and approached his daughter, put his trembling hand on her shoulder, and whispered earnestly in her ear —‘ Cicely, it is clean impossible. lam not able to support any one ; and if I could, for how long u'ould the strength last ? Dick will have enough to do to bear the burden of his wedded wife. I should be consigning thee to suffering and degradation—it might be infamy. Child, child, I dare not. Ask it not of me; do not inflict on me such killing anxiety. Accept the' good heritage which is provided for thee. Deliver by roolnardiness, but seeing my'children' ruined: likewise* and driven to curse him as the cause i Put it as you say—l stoop to share Nan’s de-l votion to her lover—l am content to take but 1 the remnant of her affections—and tv., n , VylJ i

I require sacrifice. But if so, count you which is the dearest boon ; and though I have not wished to deal unfairly, judge you which is the best beloved child.’

“ And Cicely, tortured though she was by family sorrow', by private personal aggravation,! was too true and great to resist this appeal; She flung herself on her knees before her father, and putting her clasped hands in his, forfeited her rights with unsullied tender words.

“ I will stay, father, if it is best for thee take Nan and Dick, and leave me behind Father, do with me what thou wilt.’”