To write a book which is intended, and calculated, solely for the readers of fiction, and prefix to it an apology addressed to the non-readers of fiction, appears somewhat paradoxical; yet as a member of a religious society, whose sentiments are openly and professedly at variance with works of this description, I would not willingly oppose the peculiarities of many whom I regard with gratitude, esteem, and admiration, without offering in my own vindication some remarks upon the nature of fiction in general.

Fiction may, or may not be, subservient to the purposes of moral instruction. The following are some of the abuses to which it is most liable :-the delineation of unnatural characters, by the combination of such qualities as never did, and never could exist in one human being; and the placing such creatures of imagination in scenes and circumstances where the common sympathies of our nature find no place; and where the mind of the reader, in order to follow them with interest, must be elevated to the highest pitch of absurdity, and the feelings strained beyond their proper and healthy

an amiable heart, without the assistance of religion, or the control of good principle, I am willing to allow that fiction has often been, and is well calculated to be, a most powerful engine of demoralization.

On the other hand, when a writer keeps steadily in view the development of moral truth, when his characters are all of our "mixed essence," drawn from the scenes of every-day life, animated with our feelings, weak with our frailties, led into our difficulties, surrounded by our temptations, and altogether involved in a succession of the same causes and effects which influence our lives, his productions may be called fictitious, but they cannot be false. To me they appear at least as lawful as those of the painter, and for this reason I have ventured to call my stories, Pictures of Private Life.

Suppose, for instance, an artist wished to exhibit to the public a personification of old age. Perhaps he would paint an old woman in her cottage. But this would not be all. In order to present the idea more complete, he must place before our eyes the interior of her habitation, her ancient furniture, the old fashioned chair on which she is resting, her crutch at her side, her knitting, or her spinning wheel, her kettle and her cat. Now though such an old woman, with her furniture, such a chair, spinning wheel, crutch, kettle, and cat, never did exist, yet the picture may be true; because the idea of old age could not well be conveyed without the representation of the scene being thus filled up;

and in proportion as the subject is more. complex, the collateral circumstances will be more studied, and frequently more nu

merous.

In the same way the fictitious writer labours, and for the same end; with this advantage, that the supposed lapse of time, affords him an opportunity of tracing causes to their effects. If, for instance, his subject be virtue, that virtue must be tried; and therefore he brings in a variety of circumstances all subservient to one purpose. Virtue must be contrasted with vice; and therefore other characters are introduced, and made to speak, and act, in a manner the most opposed to the words and actions of virtue. Virtue when allied to clay, must not be complete, and without flaw, because that would be unnatural, and convey an idea of a superhuman being; virtue must therefore sometimes fall away from its high purpose, in order that it may learn humility, and look more earnestly for the guiding hand of Providence; and, lastly, virtue must have its reward. In this manner the writer is involved in a great variety of imagery, and may sometimes have the management of characters, which, if separately and independently considered, would not be worth his while to delineate.

Various means may be employed to produce the same end. As individuals we must all labour according to our calling. Some preach virtue, some only practise it, some make a picture of it, and some a poem, and some (perhaps the lowest in the scale of moral teachers) adorn it with the garb of fiction, that it may ensure a welcome, where it would not otherwise obtain an entrance.

To meet with an attentive and willing listener is no less difficult than to find an able teacher. Fiction may be compared to a key, which opens many minds that

would be closed against a sermon. Nor is it without authority in the writings of sincere and zealous christians. The wide range of allegory affords innumerable subjects for instruction and delight, and many a weary wanderer through the valley of the shadow of death, has been cheered by the remembrance of Bunyan's pilgrim. But the Scriptures themselves afford the highest evidence that this style of writing may be made serviceable, as a means of reproof and conviction. Let us confine our attention to one example. Where can we find anything comparable to the affecting story of the ewe lamb? Had the prophet Nathan addressed the king of Israel at once as a violator of the laws of virtue, honour, and generosity, he would probably have found him so effectually defended by the pride of human nature, as well as by the dignity of his office, that he would have failed to reach his heart; but by the simple story of the ewe lamb, he touched at once upon that chord of feeling, which seemed ever ready to vibrate with sweetest melody, in the soul of the Royal Psalmist; and then followed that emphatic application "thou art the man!"

It is in this manner, by the contemplation of ideal characters that we are sometimes led on towards conviction; our feelings become softened in sympathy with theirs, we unconsciously pronounce our own condemnation, and conscience makes the application.

Although willing to allow that fictitious. writing is the most humble means of moral instruction, I am still earnest in endeavouring to maintain its utility, especially on the ground that it finds its way to the dense multitude who close their eyes upon the introduction of purer light.

Happy, happy is it for those whose hearts are open to receive "Christ as their

Schoolmaster," who have learned to desire the "sincere milk of the word." In their select and privileged communities, the bible spreads before them a wide field of never ending wonder and delight, and religion is a hallowed word, uniting all their sympathies into one bond of peace and love. Let us look into the next stage of advancement towards moral excellence, and here we see religion obscured by the mists of party prejudice, still worshipped, but frequently disguised, and misunderstood. A little lower and religion holds a disputed sway, contending with the spirit of the world, for a small portion of the heart. Lower still, and her power and her excellence are called in question; but before we arrive at that class by which her image is dethroned, and her institutions violated, let us regard that immense mass of beings whose perceptions are so imperfect, whose

minds so unenlightened, and whose feelings so absorbed by the trifling affairs of a busy world, that they can hardly be said to have learned to think. It is from amongst these that I have ventured to lift up my voice; it is for these that I have thought, and felt, and written. In vain. might instruction be laid before them in a weightier form. Their pursuit is pleasure, their food excitement. And since books of fiction are a kind which thousands will continue to write, and tens of thousands to read, I have endeavoured to do my little part towards blending with amusement some of those serious reflections, which in the often shifting scenes of a restless life, have occupied my own mind; not without earnest longings, that I myself were amongst those who are already prepared to receive truth without fiction, light without clouds, good without alloy.

"So far from forgetting it," continued her friend, "she strove continually to impress upon my mind, the importance of imbibing, and retaining, her own notions of that distinction of birth and education which she valued so highly; and, above all things, warned me against forming any low connexion in marriage."

"But did she make you understand exactly whereabouts in society to place yourself? for that must clearly be made out, before you can know whether you look above or below you; and in my opinion it is one of the worst evils arising from alliances such as your mother's, and one which those who enter into them must have bitterly to lament, that their offspring occupy a doubtful and

father. But I fear my advice is not agreeable to you."

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"Excuse me," replied Anna, endeavouring to look polite, because she really felt angry; excuse me, Mary, if I say it is not quite agreeable; not because I cannot bear to hear the truth, but because you have not the kind of tact which is requisite to render advice pleasing.

"And excuse me, Anna, if I say that I do not believe any tact can render advice pleasing to those who do not mean to follow it.

After this, there was a long pause between the two friends, during which, Anna tried to forget what had passed, while Mary struggled to subdue her personal feelings, so that she might speak calmly and seriously, what she was determined her friend should hear.