one reader of "Hamlet" there are a hundred of "The Tempest."

We have said that Miss Ophelia rises above the somewhat monotonous uniformity of Mrs. Stowe's characters; but her peculiarities are rather of manner than of substance. She is a strong-minded, clear-headed, unimpassioned New Englander, with an accurate perception of her duties and a firm resolution to perform them. The qualities which individualise her are, an exterior preciseness and coldness, concealing warm affections; and a sympathy for the slaves, as oppressed and degraded, somewhat at variance with her national antipathy to them as negroes.

The great merit, however, of Ophelia is as a contrast to St. Clair. He is drawn with a much bolder outline, and finished with much finer details. The foundation of her character is conscientiousness; the foundation of his is benevolence. Her defect is a want of imagination; his is a want of self-control. She endeavours to be useful only to the circle of persons with whom she is in immediate contact; and she succeeds. Her object is a small one, but it is accurately marked out. She knows what she wishes to do, and what are the proper means, and she employs them resolutely, perseveringly, and efficiently. St. Clair's purposes are vast and lofty; they are to affect the fortunes of millions of human beings, through centuries after centuries; but they are vague and undefined. He looks on the existing state of his country with horror, and on his own share in maintaining it, with repentance. A half-formed resolution to reform it is never absent from his mind. But his meditations seldom carry him beyond a wish-never beyond a hope. He never advances even so far as to form a definite plan; but drifts on, amiable, intelligent, but useless; doing no harm to his slaves, except

by over-indulgence, but doing them little good; and, from mere indolent procrastination, leaves them, when he dies, to the chances of sale, and to the miseries of slavery, aggravated by the lax discipline and careless kindness to which he had accustomed them. His levity is characteristic of a mind ill at ease. He is gay because he cannot trust himself to be serious. An attempt at indifference is his only resource against fierce indignation or remorse.

A horrible case of slave-murder occurs:

"It is perfectly outrageous,"" says Ophelia to him: "It will bring down vengeance upon you.'

"My dear cousin,"" he answers, "I didn't do it, and "I can't help it. I would if I could. If low-minded "people will act like themselves, what am I to do? "They have absolute control-they are irresponsible "despots. There would be no use in interfering. "There is no law that amounts to anything, practically, for such a case. The best we can do is to "shut our eyes and ears, and let it alone. It is the "only resource left to us.'

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"How can you shut your eyes and ears? How "can you let such things alone?'

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My dear child, what do you expect? Here is a "whole class, debased, uneducated, indolent, provok"ing, put, without any terms or conditions, entirely ""into the hands of such people as the majority of "the world are; people who have neither considera"tion nor self-control, who have not even an enlight"ened regard for their own interest for that's the "case with the largest half of mankind. Of course, "in a community so organised, what can a man of "honourable and humane feelings do but shut his eyes all he can, and harden his heart? I can't "buy every poor wretch I see. I can't turn knight"errant, and redress every case of wrong in such a

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city as New Orleans. The most I can do is to try "and keep out of the way of it.'"*

The rest of the conversation, with the exception of some socialist nonsense about capitalists starving their work-people to death, is a fine piece of rhetorical poetry. It is admirable as a history of St. Clair's mind, and still more admirable as a condensed, luminous picture of the system, made still more odious by its apologists, which he has too much virtue to tolerate, and not enough to resist.

St. Clair's scepticism is well conceived. His mind is one of those on which religion is easily impressed. He is sensitive, affectionate, and imaginative. He is educated by a mother whose virtues and talents he inherits, and whose piety he imbibes while he is under her influence. But his religion, founded on feeling not on reasoning, fades away when he goes out into the world, and finds the Bible habitually quoted as an authority for systematic cruelty and oppression. His scepticism is not described as arising from his having thought that he had discovered any defect in the evidences of Christianity, for it does not appear that he ever examined them. It does not seem to occur to him, indeed it does not seem to occur to Mrs. Stowe, that faith ought to repose on conviction, and that conviction is an affair not of the heart but of the intellect.

His attempts to combat his doubts by his wishes are well painted.

"Oh," says Tom to him, "if mas'r would only "look up, where our dear Miss Eva is, up to the "dear Lord Jesus.'

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Ah, Tom, I do look up; but the trouble is, I "don't see anything when I do. I wish I could. It

* Chapter 19.

""seems to be given to children and poor honest fel"lows like you, to see what we can't.'

"Thou hast hid from the wise and prudent and "revealed unto babes,'" murmured Tom.

"Tom, I don't believe—I can't believe-I've got "the habit of doubting,'" said St. Clair; "I want "to believe this Bible, and I can't.'

"Dear mas'r, pray to the good Lord,-do, do, "dear mas'r, believe.'

"How do you know there's any Christ, Tom? you 666 never saw the Lord.'

"Felt him in my soul, mas'r,— feel him now.'"* Even Mrs. Stowe does not seem to perceive that she has engaged her hero in a contest in which, as he manages it, success is impossible. Minds unaccustomed to reasoning, habituated to bow to authority, and to take their opinions on trust, may believe because they are told to believe, or because they have always believed, or because those about them believe, or because it is happiness to believe, or because it is a sin not to believe. But reasoners, men who cannot accept conclusions without premises, however they may wish to be satisfied without proof, cannot be so. And the more earnest their desire, the more certain is their failure. The more they wish to arrive at a given conviction, the more anxious becomes the craving for evidence, the more arduous seem the difficulties that are to be got over, the more obstinate are the lurking doubts. The cure for St. Clair's scepticism would have been an earnest and impartial study of the arguments, and the evidence, for and against Christianity. We say for and against, because a man who has once doubted will never be effectually convinced as long as he knows, or even suspects, that

* Chapter 27.

there is a side of the question which he has not examined. He who is afraid to do this is not a real believer, though he may think himself one.

The only remaining character on which we need dwell is Topsy. She is, perhaps, the most popular of all Mrs. Stowe's dramatis persona, probably because she is the most original. Nature intended her to be intelligent and affectionate, but she has grown up to girlhood without having ever received instruction or experienced kindness. So far, perhaps, she does not differ much from many of the outcast children that are thrown up from time to time in our police courts. But she is marked by a peculiarity not to be found in Europe, unless it be among the Cagots, if any are left, of the South of France, the feeling that she belongs to a degraded caste. "There can't nobody love niggers, and niggers can't do nothing," is the creed which a life of twelve years in New Orleans has taught her. Though she cannot be loved, however, she can be admired and feared. All the children are delighted by her drollery, grimace, and mimicry; and the elder members of the servants' hall find that whoever casts any indignity upon Topsy, is sure to meet with some inconvenient accident shortly after. Her great pride is in her wickedness.

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"Lor, you niggers,' she says to her young admirers, "does you know you's all sinners? Well you is"every body is: white folk is sinners too - Miss "Feely says so; but I spects niggers is the biggest "ones: but Lor ye an't any on you up to me. "so awfully wicked, there can't nobody do nothing "" with me. I spects I's the wickedest critter in the "world.' And Topsy would cut a somersault and "come up brisk and shining, and evidently plume "herself on the distinction."

The way in which this hardened nature, after hav

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