The story of Hugh Trevor is less connected and interesting than that of Anna St. Ives: the excellence of the work is to be judged of from detached scenes and passages, rather than from considering it as a whole. Among the most striking passages are the description of Oxford, Wakefield’s conversations with Hugh Trevor, the disputes with Trotman on the study of the law, the character of Olivia’s aunt, which is in the best style of the old novels, the scene in the stage-coach between the aunt, Olivia, and Hugh Trevor, the description given by Glibly of the characters at the playhouse, and some of the scenes which occur in the history of Wilmot. The dialogues in Hugh Trevor are almost all of them highly spirited, and full of character, and the language exactly that of animated conversation. Mr Holcroft would (as it might be expected,) have an advantage in this respect over novel-writers in general, from his habit of writing for the stage. Perhaps the finest things in Hugh Trevor, are, the account of an author, found in Wilmot’s pocket, after he had attempted to drown himself, and the song of Gaffer Gray. Both these I shall extract, as they are short and detached, and, in my opinion at least, exquisite pieces of writing. The paper found in Wilmot’s pocket, after the rash, and almost fatal, act, to which he has been driven by repeated disappointment, and extreme distress, is as follows. ‘This body, if ever it should be found, was once a thing, which, by way of reproach among men, was called an author. It moved about the earth despised and unnoticed; and died indigent and unlamented. It could hear, see, feel, smell, and taste, with as much quickness, delicacy, and force, as other bodies. It had desires and passions like other bodies, but was denied the use of them by such as had the power and the will to engross the good things of this world to themselves. The doors of the great were shut upon it; not because it was infected with disease, or contaminated with infamy; but on account of the fashion of the garments with which it was cloathed, and the name it derived from its forefathers; and because it had not the habit of bending its knee where its heart owed no respect, nor the power of moving its tongue to gloze the crimes, or flatter the follies of men. It was excluded the fellowship of such as heap up gold and silver; not because it did, but for fear it might, ask a small portion of their beloved wealth. It shrunk with pain and pity from the haunts of ignorance, which the knowledge it possessed could not enlighten, and from guilt, that its sensations were obliged to abhor. There was but one class of men with whom it was permitted to associate, and those were such as had feelings and misfortunes like its own, among whom it was its hard fate frequently to suffer imposition, from assumed worth and fictitious distress. Beings of supposed benevolence, capable of perceiving, loving, and promoting