with it, through the intermedium of fiction, amongst that vast class of readers whose attention is most readily secured by amusing it. It appeared also to the author, that the form of fiction was better calculated than one more serious to convey vivid impressions of the spirit of society in the despotism he was depicting. A serious work even if containing nothing but literal facts and rigidly rational inferences, ressembles a Daguerrotype portrait, whilst a fiction in which the same elements are entertainingly embodied, and brought into effective contrast may rather be compared to those sketching likenesses in which the characteristic lines, slightly exaggerated, still constitute a portraiture which forcibly recalls the original and conveys an idea more complete of the personage it represents, than could be derived from the Daguerrotype reflection which art has reduced. to inalterable fixity.

As the tale was the mere vehicle by which he sought to communicate certain impressions to the reader, its merit was only matter of

secondary consideration, and though, in one sense, the writer may have reason to be flattered by the manner in which it has been noticed by the press, he cannot but observe with some concern, that many, whilst recording favourable opinions of the fiction, seem in their appreciation of it, as a literary production, to have somewhat lost sight of its moral object. He is hence induced to draw the attention of the reader, more especially to the fact, that in the volumes. before him, he has used no improbable incidents, situations or characters to give point and interest to the tale he was constructing; on the contrary, he repeats the assurance that he has not embodied in its plot, nor introduced in the episodes, into which he has diverged, one character, nor occurrence, without having the originals of both in his mind's eye.

Unhappily the reality furnished him with stores from which he might have gathered any amount of such materials as he used. A writer more able and experienced might have drawn from the same source facts far more impressive,

and colours more startling to weave into his narrative without trespassing beyond the circle of actuality.

NOVEMBER 20, 1845.

THE AUTHOR.

THE WHITE SLAVE.

CHAPTER I.

It was between the acts of a favourite opera, the attention of a little knot of exquisites, distinguishable amongst the vulgar Parisian audience of the pit, was obviously directed towards a box, which seemed singularly to attract their notice and curiosity. This box contained one solitary inmate, a lady in all the luxuriant bloom of beauty; but a cane, an opera-glass, and a Spanish cloak upon a chair, seemed to indicate that a cavalier had just left her.

It was not the first time during the evening,

that the eyes

VOL. I.

and opera-glasses then turned to

B

wards her, after travelling eagerly round the house, had settled dubiously and inquiringly upon that very box; but its two occupants up to that moment had been so concealed by its curtain, that they could see without being seen. But now, the curtain being withdrawn, suddenly revealed to the full gaze of those who an instant before were struggling to obtain a obtain a transient glimpse, the object of this anxious scrutiny.

The lady whose appearance acted so magnetically on all these eyes was not unworthy of attracting them; she was beautiful, and of that stamp and degree of beauty which no variety or singularity of taste can cavil at or deny. Why attempt to describe that expression-the soul and spirit of beauty-which is to loveliness of countenance what the odour is to the flowerwhich it is obvious that words can never paint, any more than the pencil can depict the perfume of the rose; or at least let us leave the description to the enthusiastic lips of a lover? But it may be observed that her beauty was in that rich maturity, which some women never reach, and which others only attain in exchange for