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“Miss Sinclair is a well-known writer, and her various works display a piquant liveliness and a keen sense of the ridiculous, while in general they are very practical in their tendencies. If we have not here “Tales of a Grandfather,’ we have at all events ‘Legends’ by an Aunt; and if Sir Walter's ‘Tales' were more true than the ‘Legends,’ the fault lies not with Miss Sinclair, but with the Chuch of Rome, which has, for her own crafty and covetous ends, virtually endorsed them all. The subject of the miracles and ‘lying wonders’ which form one of the grand characteristics of the apostasy, has been very prominently before the public mind of late years. What between Lord Shrewsbury's ‘Exstatica” and the winking statue of Rimini— and especially with Dr. Newman's unblushing avowal of his conviction of the credibility of the Munchausen stories of saints sailing on their cloaks over the sea and raising the dead to life—we have had sufficient to excite in all honest minds the inquiry whether Christianity itself is not emphatically in danger, from those who profess to be her exclusive guardians and advocates. And it is most desirable that, amid the ‘deceivableness of unrighteousness,” which, like , a miasma, is poisoning the moral atmosphere, there should be furnished to the young a popular idea of those pious frauds by which the sorceress is seeking to betray and destroy them. The work before us will largely meet this want, and at the same time will furnish an antidote from the Word of God itself. A great amount of useful information will be-found in this handsome volume; and from its animated style it is likely to be very acceptable and useful to the class for whom it is specially designed.”—
- Christian Times, March 26, 1852.
“If authors must write, they had better compose
IN THREE WOLUMES.
LONDON : -
“Alack, now, that all the world should be out sightseeing and saint-making, and we laid up here, like two lame jackdaws in a belfry !”—Saints' Tragedy.
NIGHT and morning Lady Edith was determining to set off with Beatrice from the cold and stately halls of Eaglescairn to their own little peaceful warm-hearted home, but night and morning found her yet a most unwilling prisoner in the gloomy Castle of Eaglescairn, where the cold, proud, tranquil incivility of its hostess became every day more intolerably galling to one like Lady Edith, who lived but for the exchange of kind affections and friendly good offices. She had now learned so to distrust Mr. Ambrose that she would not even have had an honest-hearted quarrel with him about his clandestine conduct respecting Beatrice. One morn
ing Lady Edith found a note from him dropped WOL. III. B