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THE EFFECTS OF THE PERUSAL OF NOVELS, ON THE CHARACTER AND HAPPINESS OF STUDENTS.

WHATEVER may be the deleterious effects of novel reading on minds in general, or any class of individuals in particular, in no case does it prove so disastrous, as when indulged in by a student. Far be it from me to condemn, without reserve, every species of fiction, as unworthy of perusal and injurious in its tendency. Fiction may be, and, to the honour of the present age, has begun to be, the medium of conveying much useful instruction, especially to the young. My remarks have reference only to those books generally termed novels, and which, by this name, are too well known to need description.

The propriety and utility of this species of reading is generally maintained on some of the following grounds:

1. It fills up pleasantly an idle hour.

2. It creates an ease and elegance in common conversation.

3. It tends to form a neat and proper style in writing.

Historical novels may be said to have an additional recommendation-that of conveying useful knowledge.

As to the first of these reasons -A student has, or ought to have, no idle hours to spare. Either proper exercise or proper reading must be excluded by such an intrusion. Besides, an idle hour' devoted to this fascinating employment, but paves the way for the devotion of the succeeding hour, which ought not to have been idle, to the same amusement.

As to the second-That it creates an ease and elegance in conversation-it may well be replied, that if the books are actually unworthy of perusal, the topics which they will afford for conversation, are not worth the

having. They are rather a positive injury, inasmuch as they exclude those subjects, which, in themselves, are really useful; and so far from its being an accomplishment for a student to be familiar with such topies, I am persuaded that it ought to be considered a disgrace, and so it is by all whose good opinion on such matters, is worth possessing.

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The other reason-That it tends to form a neat and proper style in writing is the most plausible; nevertheless, it cannot bear the test of scrutiny. Those who read novels know well that the style of the narrative is seldom or never thought of. It is the story-the story, that engrosses all their attentionnor is it expected to be otherwise. It has been the author's highest aim to have his novel of a fascinating character; and did it not in measure possess this character, it would be thrown by in disgust. But the question ought not to be, whether this species of reading tends, in any degree, to the formation of a good style-but whether it does so, more than that for which it is substituted, and this, in case of a student, if his time would otherwise be employed as it ought to be, none can pretend to maintain. As for the useful knowledge, said to be derived from the perusal of historical novels, it is, at best, but a mixture of fiction and fact, of falsehood and truth, and before the reader can be supposed to be able to distinguish between the one and the other, he must be supposed to be acquainted with the true history; in which case, of course, he does not stand in need of such information.

I have now considered some of the grounds on which this kind of reading is justified, and it is time to examine whether there are no

positive evils resulting to the student from this practice.

In the first place, it tends to form a habit of reading other works superficially. For, as novels are almost universally perused with great rapidity, the reader acquires the habit of perusing other books in the same manner, than which nothing can be more destructive to a student's progress. It will also make him disrelish all other kinds of literature. He finds in novels a vivacity, an inexpressible something in the narration, even of melancholy tales, which, for the time, ravishes the soul, and holds the mind in perfect thraldom, but which he will look for in vain in other writings. Let a student but become what may be termed an habitual reader of these productions, and then those books which ought to be his delight, will be to him what water is to the drunkard, and wholesome food to the epicure. Though his better judgment tells him they are useful, he hates them;-like many other medicines, they are bitter.

Nor is this all. For while such reading creates in him a disrelish for all that is wholesome, it also robs him of his time-intrudes upon almost every lesson, and unfits the mind for the accomplishment of its approaching task; so that the that the severer studies will be early thrown aside to give place to this favourite amusement.* In these books vice is clothed in the garb of virtue, or,

*The introduction of the Waverley Novels into Christian families, has produced a very injurious effect, by indisposing the minds of the young for historical reading. It is surprising how little our standard historians are now read. Hume, Rapin, Clarendon, &c. are almost neglected books. The miserable result has been painfully manifested in the erroneous notions promulgated by divines and senators, with reference to popery, &c. in the various discussions which have attracted public attention. The careful study of Clarendon alone would have prevented many of those rash innovations which have been loudly hailed under the name of REFORM.

SEPTEMBER 1833.

at best, of innocence. In them we read of the innocent oath,' and of the noble, manly spirit, that could not brook an insult.' The vices of the heroes and heroines of the tale, are set up for the imitation of others. They are not mentioned in that uncoloured way in which the bible pourtrays the failings of good men, but they are clothed in a garb of poetry and romance, and so palliated by excuses, that they assume, to the youthful mind, rather an air of nobleness; and thus that is unwittingly taken into the bosom, which, at the last, shall bite like a serpent, and sting like an adder.

In these books too, not unfrequently, religion is described by those who know little or nothing about it, and, in a manner according rather with the author's fancy than with the word of God, and more calculated to fill the mind with pride, than the heart with humility.

The novel-reader is thus introduced into an ideal world-where the stream of life flows smoothly along-where disappointments are not vexatious, and where peace without holiness crowns all the exertions of man-a state well suited to our degraded nature. After having soared to such a world as this, it is hard to descend to this grovelling earth, where sickness, sorrow, and disappointments are realities. He is on the contrary filled with desires that can never be gratified, and with murmurings against the providence that has assigned him such a lot his fellow-beings appear to be unfit companions for him-the sources of their hilarity and happiness are husks to his soul-discontent and melancholy are depicted on his brow-his peace is disturbed-his mind distractedand he becomes altogether unnerved by what at first appeared an innocent, but what will invariably be found a dangerous recreation. G. O.

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Review of Books.

A MEMOIR OF MISS MARY JANE GRAHAM, late of Stoke

Fleming, Devon. Newton, Suffolk. Seeleys. 1833.

By the Rev. Charles Bridges, M. A. Vicar of Old
Second Edition, with a Portrait. 12mo. pp. 448.

THE public approbation of this interesting piece of biography, has so far anticipated our notice of the volume by the rapid sale of the first edition, that it may appear almost unnecessary for us to occupy our pages with the recommendation of a work whose extensive circulation is already fully secured. Nevertheless, as there may be some readers of our publication who have not yet perused Mr. Bridges' Memoir of Miss Graham, and many more who have not bestowed it the attentive study it deserves, we shall not think our time ill-bestowed, in -even thus late-presenting them with a short account of it.

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Mary Jane Graham was born in London, in the year 1803. A few years before her death, she retired with her father (on his relinquishing business) to the village of Stoke Fleming, near Dartmouth, in Devonshire-a spot which was chosen chiefly from regard to her delicate state of health. She was the subject of early religious convictions, and even at the age of seven had acquired habits of secret prayer. The following is an extract from her own account (in a letter to a friend written at the age of twenty-three) of this early work of grace on her heart.

I knew [she writes] a little girl, who was much like other children, as full of sin and vanity as ever she could hold.... The God of love did not think this sinful child too young to learn of Jesus. He so ordered it, when she was just seven years old, that she was led by a pious servant into some alms houses belonging to Rowland Hill, who had just been preaching at them. The servant and an aged woman entered into a long conversation together,

to which the little girl listened, and wondered what could make them like to talk about such things. But, at the close of it, the old woman took the child affectionately by the hand, and said to her- My dear child, make the Lord Jesus your friend now that you are so young; and when you come to be as old as I am, He'll never leave you nor forsake you.' God the Spirit sent these simple words to the poor sinful child's heart. She walked home in silence by her nurse's side, thinking how she could get Jesus to be her friend. Then she remembered how often she had slighted this dear Saviour; how she had read of Him in the Bible, and been weary of the subject: how she had heard the minister preach Jesus, and wished the long dry sermon over; how she had said prayers to Him without minding what she said; how she had loved her books, her play, and her toys, and her play-fellows-all, all better than Jesus. Then the Holy Spirit convinced her of sin. She saw that no one good thing dwelt in her, and that she deserved to be cast away from God for ever. Would Jesus love her now? would he ever forgive her? She feared not, but she would try! She would make herself very good, and then, perhaps, Jesus would be her friend. But the more this little girl tried to be good, the more her naughty heart got the better of her; for she was trying in her own strength. She was led to give up trying in that way; and many long nights did she spend in praying, with strong crying and tears, to Jesus, that He would teach her how to get her sins pardoned.... He put it into her heart to read the Bible.... One day her attention was fixed on these words, "The Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.'. .. Who can describe the raptures which filled the bosom of this little child, when made to comprehend that "the blood of Jesus cleanseth from all sin." Now she knew that He had loved her and given himself for her; now the Spirit of God shed abroad the love of God in the heart of a weak and foolish child, and

"filled her with peace and joy in believing.".... Since then she has spent nearly seventeen years of mingled happiness and pain. But she has had Jesus for her friend, and He never has, and never will forsake her.-Pp. 3-7.

Her school career commenced

soon after she was seven years old. About the age of ten she was placed at a school where her religious impressions were cherished by the familiar exhortations of the husband of her preceptress, and by devotional exercises with her companions. At this time she committed to

memory

the whole of the prophecy of Isaiah; and at the age of twelve, the whole Book of Psalms, during

an interval of two months' illness which occasioned her removal from school. She now enjoyed, at home, the ministry of the late excellent Mr. Crowther, vicar of Christ Church, Newgate Street; under whose faithful instruction she was brought to Confirmation, about the

age of sixteen. In the following year, her mind underwent an extraordinary and afflicting change, of which she has herself given a detail, in a work entitled • The Test of Truth.'

She conceived that her mind received an injury from adopting, in her thirteenth year, Doddridge's form of covenanting with God. (See his Rise and Progress, chap. xvii.) Mr. Bridges judiciously cautions his reader against the conclusion that this mode of dedication necessarily partakes of an unevangelical character, though in Miss Graham's case (as in some others) it may have ministered to a legal spirit; and he refers the unhappy change of views, which we are about to notice, to the metaphysical form of her mind, unfavourable to a simple reception of truth.' She fell into the snares of infidelity. 'The Divinity of Christ became to her " a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offence." Though repeated examination had fully satisfied her that it was the truth of the Bible, yet

so repulsive was it to her proud heart, that she was led to question the truth of the Bible itself.' Her vigorous understanding soon, however, acquiesced in the clear evidences for the Inspiration of the Scriptures; but her heart resisted her convictions; and thus, for a season she departed from God, and sought for peace of mind in forgetfulness of the great concern, and in giving herself up to intellectual studies. This season of darkness was but transient. Through the Divine mercy she was, after a few months' captivity, brought out of her prison house to the full light and liberty which this return to her first love of Scriptural truth. The means by

were effected, were partly the conflict of her own mind, partly some severe providential afflictions.

Her whole life, (says Mr. Bridges) now appeared to be one continued act of sin and folly. Her convictions, however, of sin-being wholly unconnected with any discovery of the way of forgiveness-natu

rally tended to despondency."-P. 20.

The sentence which we have quoted in italics appears to us to be altogether irreconcilable with the account which we have extracted above of her early faith in Christ, and of her perfect knowledge of the way of forgiveness; an account, be it remembered, given by herself at a period of life when her judgment respecting her early views and impressions might have been supposed to have been mature. Mr. Bridges has briefly noticed this apparent inconsistency, remarking, that 'her infidelity was a black cloud, intercepting all present apprehensions of faith and intelligence, but this is scarcely a satisfactory solution.' The cloud of infidelity was at this moment dispersed; and though a person who, for the first time, is brought to deep conviction of sin, and who is anxiously seeking forgiveness, might for a season be left in painful conflict, or even in complete ignorance of the way of accept

ance, yet it seems to us quite impossible that an individual, who had for ten years (with the short interval of a few months of unbelief) held sweet communion with the Saviour as the only refuge of her soul, should, on her return to the guide of her youth, be in utter ignorance of the way of acceptance. We are rather disposed to attribute this manifest discrepancy of narrative, to some confusion and indistinctness in Miss Graham's own mind respecting the actual state of her religious views at different periods of her life, when taking a retrospect of them at the time of her drawing up her little volume, entitled the Test of Truth,' and when describing them in letters to her friends at a riper age.

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Whatever might be the exact steps by which the returning prodigal found her way to her Father's house, she did not long "wait at the posts of his doors" without admittance. She was soon enabled to believe unto righteousness; and she found the best proof of the credibility of the Christian revelation in the character of Christ, whom she again embraced as her All in all. After this deliverance she resided in London, where the ministry of the Rev. Watts Wilkinson was eminently conducive to her advancement in knowledge and experience of scriptural truths, and she became actively devoted to God. Her intellectual pursuits were still a source of high gratification to her; but, with Christian simplicity and watchfulness, she kept them subordinate to better things, and the glory of God was the object dearest to her heart. That she was qualified to excel in the highest pursuits of the human mind, is evident from the extracts which Mr. Bridges has given from her writings and letters; but the features of her Christian character, which her biographer has well delineated, form the most attractive and valuable part of the volume.

For

Those graces which had been matured in the school of affliction, were beautifully displayed in her last illness; during which she was unusually favoured with a remarkable sense of the Divine presence. The prospect of death was to her divested of its terrors. a little moment, indeed, a cloud was permitted to spread itself over her soul; but it was soon dispelled; and peace and joy resumed their reign within, till, without a sigh or a struggle, she entered into her everlasting rest, Dec. 10, 1830.

Our limits render it impossible to give any adequate idea of this amiable character; we subjoin, however, two extracts, which will, we trust, stimulate many to procure and peruse the work for themselves. The first shall be from an excellent letter, written in 1827, to a friend on worldly amusements:—

With regard to the theatre, and amusements of this kind, Christians must have little to do if they can find time for them. But if they could find time, I confess I am at a loss to see what business they can find there........ I was once induced to attend 'Matthews at Home,' and shall never forget the sensation I felt, when he told us how his father, who was a good kind of man, but too religious, had tried to keep him from coming on the stage. When I looked round, and saw the merriment expressed in every face, I could not help saying to myself, 'This is no place for me; there are no lovers of Christ here; for charity rejoiceth not in iniquity," as these poor deluded people are doing.' And now, I have proposed many privations to you; and what have I to offer you in return? Nothing, but the love of Jesus...... Let us study all the sweet relations in which he has revealed himself in the Scripture-Father, Brother, Friend, Husband, Lover......It is but a little ray of this love that has as yet warmed my heart; yet I can tell you that it is worth renouncing ten thousand worlds for.-Pp. 264-266.

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The following passages are in a loftier strain; in tenderness of sentiment, in glow of imagination, and in the descriptive beauty of

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