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THE DARING EXPLOITS OF A MOORISH AND A CHRISTIAN CAVALIER.

"When the Moorish knights beheld that all courteous challenges were unavailing, they sought various means to provoke the Christian warriors to the field. Sometimes a body of them, fleetly mounted, would gallop up to the skirts of the camp, and try who should hurl his lance farthest within the barriers; leaving his name inscribed on it, or a label affixed to it, containing some taunting defiThese bravadoes caused great irritation; but still the Spanish warriors were restrained by the prohibition of the king.

ance.

and cimeters, and defying them to single combat, which they found themselves most unwillingly obliged to decline. The "Chronicle" then proceeds thus:

THE FATE OF THE MOORISH CAVALIER.

"While this grim and reluctant tranquillity prevailed along the Christian line, there rose a mingled shout and sound of laughter near the gate of the city. A Moorish horseman, armed at all points, issued forth, followed by a rabble, who drew back as he approached the scene of danger. The Moor was more robust and brawny than was common with his countrymen. His visor was closed; he bore a large buckler and ponderous lance; his cimeter was of a Damascus blade, and his richly ornamented dag

"Among the Moorish cavaliers was one named Tarfe, renowned for his great strength and daring spirit, but whose courage partook of fierce audacity rather than chi-ger was wrought by an artificer of Fez. He was known valric heroism. In one of these sallies, when they were by his device to be Tarfe, the most insolent, yet valiant, skirting the Christian camp, this arrogant Moor outstrip- of the Moslem warriors; the same who had hurled into ped his companions, overleaped the barriers, and, gallop- the royal camp his lance, inscribed to the queen. As he ing close to the royal quarters, launched his lance so far rode slowly along, in front of the army, his very steed, within, that it remained quivering in the earth, close by prancing with fiery eye and distended nostril, seemed to the pavilions of the sovereigns. The royal guards rush-breathe defiance to the Christians. But what were the ed forth in pursuit; but the Moorish horsemen were already beyond the camp, and scouring in a cloud of dust for the city. Upon wresting the lance from the earth, a label was found upon it, importing, that it was intended for the queen.

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"Nothing could equal the indignation of the Christian warriors at the insolence of the bravado, when they heard to whom the discourteous insult was offered. Fernando Perez del Pulgar, surnamed he of the exploits,' was present, and resolved not to be outbraved by this daring infidel. Who will stand by me,' said he, in an enterprise of desperate peril?' The Christian cavaliers well knew the hair-brained valour of Del Pulgar; yet not one hesitated to step forward. He chose fifteen companions, all men of powerful arm and dauntless heart. In the dead of the night he led them forth from the camp, and approached the city cautiously, until he arrived at a postern gate, which opened upon the Darro, and was guarded by foot soldiers. The guards, little thinking of such an unwonted and partial attack, were for the most part asleep. The gate was forced, and a confused and chancemedley skirmish ensued. Fernando del Pulgar stopped not to take part in the affray. Putting spurs to his horse, he galloped furiously through the streets, striking fire out of the stones at every bound. Arrived at the principal mosque, he sprang from his horse, and, kneeling at the portal, took possession of the edifice as a Christian chapel, dedicating it to the blessed Virgin. In testimony of the ceremony, he took a tablet, which he had brought with him, on which was inscribed in large letters, Ave Maria,' and nailed it to the door of the mosque with his dagger. This done, he remounted his steed, and galloped back to the gate. The alarm had been given; the city was in an uproar; soldiers were gathering from every direction. They were astonished at seeing a Christian warrior speeding from the interior of the city. Fernando del Pulgar, overturning some, and cutting down others, rejoined his companions, who still maintained possession of the gate, by dint of hard fighting, and they all made good their retreat to the camp. The Moors were at a loss to conjecture the meaning of this wild and apparently fruitless assault; but great was their exasperation, when, on the following day, they discovered the trophy of hardihood and prowess, the Ave Maria, thus elevated in the very centre of the city. The mosque, thus boldly sanctified by Fernando del Pulgar, was eventually, after the capture of Granada, converted into a cathedral."-Vol. ii. pp. 327-30.

The matter did not end here. Shortly afterwards, Isabella rode out from the camp to take a nearer view of the town of Granada. She was attended by a retinue of knights, who had the strictest orders not to leave her side under any circumstances. Many Moorish horsemen came galloping towards them, brandishing their lances

feelings of the Spanish cavaliers, when they beheld, tied to the tail of his steed, and dragged in the dust, the very inscription, Ave Maria, which Fernando Perez del Pulgar had affixed to the door of the mosque! A burst of horror and indignation broke forth from the army. Fernando del Pulgar was not at hand to maintain his previous achievement, but one of his young companions in arms, Garcilasso de la Vega by name, putting spurs to his horse, galloped to the hamlet of Zubia, threw himself on his knees before the king, and besought permission to accept the defiance of this insolent infidel, and to revenge the insult offered to our blessed Lady. The request was too pious to be refused; Garcilasso remounted his steed; he closed his helmet, graced by four sable plumes; grasp. cd his buckler, of Flemish workmanship, and his lance, of matchless temper, and defied the haughty Moor in the midst of his career. A combat took place, in view of the two armies, and of the Castilian court. The Moor was powerful in wielding his weapons, and dexterous in managing his steed. He was of larger frame than Garcilasso, and more completely armed; and the Christians trembled for their champion. The shock of their encounter was dreadful; their lances were shivered, and sent up splinters in the air. Garcilasso was thrown back in his saddle, and his horse made a wide career before he could recover his position, gather up the reins, and return to the conflict. They now encountered each other with swords. The Moor circled round his opponent as a hawk circles when about to make a swoop; his Arabian steed obeyed his rider with matchless quickness; at every attack of the infidel, it seemed as if the Christian knight must sink beneath his flashing cimeter. But if Garcilasso was inferior to him in power, he was superior in agility; many of his blows he parried, others he received on his Flemish buckler, which was proof against the Damascus blade. The blood streamed from numerous wounds, received by either warrior. The Moor, seeing his anta gonist exhausted, availed himself of his superior force; and, grappling, endeavoured to wrest him from his saddle. They both fell to the earth; the Moor placed his knee on the breast of his victim, and, brandishing his dagger, aimed a blow at his throat. A cry of despair was uttered by the Christian warriors, when suddenly they beheld the Moor rolling lifeless in the dust! Garcilasso had shortened his sword, and, as his adversary raised his arm to strike, had pierced him to the heart. It was a singular and miraculous victory,' says Fray Antonio Agapida; but the Christian knight was armed by the sacred nature of his cause, and the holy Virgin gave him strength, like another David, to slay this gigantic champion of the Gentiles.'"-Vol. ii. pp. 335-38.

We have room for only one extract more. It describes, in moving and eloquent terms, the departure of Boabdil, the last Moorish King of Granada, together with his fa

mily, from that splendid palace which his forefathers had built, and which stood in the midst of that princely city he was never again to revisit :

"It was a night of doleful lamentings within the walls of the Alhambra, for the household of Boabdil were preparing to take a last farewell of that delightful abode. All the royal treasures, and the most precious effects of the Alhambra, were hastily packed upon mules; the beautiful apartments were despoiled, with tears and wailings, by their own inhabitants. Before the dawn of day, a mournful cavalcade moved obscurely out of a postern gate of the Alhambra, and departed through one of the most retired quarters of the city. It was composed of the family of the unfortunate Boabdil, whom he sent off thus privately that they might not be exposed to the eyes of scoffers, or the exultation of the enemy. The mother of Boabdil, the Sultana Ayxa la Horra, rode on in silence, with dejected yet dignified demeanour; but his wife, Zorayma, and all the females of his household, gave way to loud lamentations, as they gave a last look to their favourite abode, now a mass of gloomy towers behind them. They were attended by the ancient domestics of the household, and by a small guard of veteran Moors, loyally attached to the fallen monarch, and who would have sold their lives dearly in defence of his family. The city was yet buried in sleep, as they passed through its silent streets. The guards at the gate shed tears as they opened it for their departure. They tarried not, but proceeded along the banks of the Xenil, on the road that leads to the Alpuxarias, until they arrived at a hamlet, at some distance from the city, where they halted, and waited until they should be joined by King Boabdil.

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"Having rejoined his family, Boabdil set forward with a heavy heart for his allotted residence, in the valley of Porchena. At two leagues distance, the cavalcade, winding into the skirts of the Alpuxarias, ascended an eminence commanding the last view of Granada. As they arrived at this spot, the Moors paused involuntarily, to take a farewell gaze at their beloved city, which a few steps more would shut from their sight for ever. Never had it appeared so lovely in their eyes. The sunshine, so bright in that transparent climate, lighted up each tower and minaret, and rested gloriously upon the crowning battlements of the Alhambra; while the vega spread its enamelled bosom of verdure below, glistening with the silver windings of the Xenil. The Moorish cavaliers gazed with a silent agony of tenderness and grief upon that delicious abode, the scene of their loves and pleasures. While they yet looked, a light cloud of smoke burst forth from the citadel; and presently a peal of artillery, faintly heard, told that the city was taken possession of, and the throne of the Moslem kings was lost forever. The heart of Boabdil, softened by misfortunes, and overcharged with grief, could no longer contain itself, Allah achbar! God is great!' said he; but the words of resignation died upon his lips, and he burst into a flood of tears."-Vol. ii. p. 372.

This hill, from which Boabdil looked back, for the last time, on fair Granada, is still known in Spain by the poetical name of El ultimo suspiro del Moro, or "the last sigh of the Moor."

To those who love to dwell on all that is brilliant and chivalrous, and to whom the glories of the old days present a theme for rich and splendid thought,-to those who love to study the romance of real life, and to forget their own misfortunes in the far more startling reverses with which the men of forgotten generations were familiarized,—to those who love to see the tedious details of history woven into a narrative, which, in many respects, rivals in interest the most cunningly devised fable, we heartily recommend Washington Irving's "Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada."

Trials and other Proceedings in Matters Criminal before the High Court of Justiciary in Scotland; Selected from the Records of that Court, and from Original Manuscripts preserved in the General Register House, Edinburgh. By Robert Pitcairn, W. S. Part I., from the commencement of the reign of King James VI., to July 22, 1590. Edinburgh: published by William Tait, and by John Stevenson. London: by Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green, and by John Cochran. 1829.

THERE are two very different classes of readers who find pleasure in perusing the records of a criminal court. The mere lover of the interesting or the horrible, who runs over their contents as he would the Mysteries of Udolpho, looks merely to the tale, the truth or falsehood of which it is the object of the proceedings to elicit, and his pleasure is derived from the shuddering interest all feel in the story of fierce passion and crime, heightened occasionally, and rendered more piquant, by the naive manner in which a witness may deliver his evidence. The student of man and society, however, finds in such pages a wide field for deep reflection. The very forms of judicial procedure-the mere abstract canvassing of points of law, interest him; for, in following them out through a lapse of years, he sees how the principles of justice, at first vaguely conceived, become more and more distinctly apprehended; how gradually a comprehensive and consistent system emerges out of a few apparently unconnected rules; and how long practice gives fitness and efficiency to the institutions for enforcing law. In the deeds which are submitted to the investigation of the court, in the bearing of the perpetrators, nay, in the manner in which the witnesses, subject to bias and misapprehension, vary and perplex the tale, he learns to know the human heart in all its waywardness. It is this that makes the law of a nation, and particularly that part of its law which takes cognizance of crime, one of the most instructive chapters in its history.

The present number of the work, the name of which we have transcribed above, will be found possessed of comparatively few attractions for the former class of readers. It is more likely to be rightly appreciated by the latter, who, devoted to historical research, and the study of human nature, know how to value every piece of additional authentic information, completing with it the knowledge of some point which they had already acquired, or storing it up, broken and fragmentary as it is, in the hope, at some future period, to be able to reunite it to the mass from which it has been shivered. Even to this class, the work may possibly not yet appear so valuable as it will hereafter prove, when eked out by the selections from the earlier part of the records, which we are told, in the Prospectus, are to follow.

Part I. contains the proceedings before the Court of Justiciary in Scotland, during the stormy period which intervened between the accession of James VI. to the Scottish throne, and his return from Denmark with his Queen in 1590. We must confess that we have not received so much information respecting the principles of law which dictated the decisions of the Court, or respecting the forms which it observed, as we had anticipated. We are not quite certain whether the Editor be altogether free of blame for this. It is true, as he tells us in the preface, that the "Books of Adjournal" must have been very carelessly kept during the period which it embraces; that the proceedings are often recorded" in a very brief and unsatisfactory manner;" and that, in many instances, the minute books alone have been preserved. It is likewise true, that there is strong ground of suspicion, that in some instances portions of the Record have been suppressed by one or other of the prevailing factions. At the same time he confesses, that along with the minute books, "the dittays, evidence of witnesses, and other productions," have been preserved. It

might have been difficult, even with all these "appliances | frequency and aggravation, shrewd guesses may be made and means to boot," to have got up such a detailed state- at the progress of a nation in population and in wealth,— ment of some of the cases on record, as would have shown, in luxury, refinement, and knowledge, and in the consewith some degree of clearness, the form of procedure ob- quent more marked and felt inequality of rank. served by our Justiciary at that period; but still it was pos- The picture presented to our view, is such as the presible; and, for such an attempt, it is natural to suppose that vious history of Scotland would have led us to expect. Mr Pitcairn's habits, as a regular bred lawyer, would The long and frequent minorities of its kings,—the conhave been of advantage to him. No attempt of this kind, centration of wealth and power in the hands of a not very however, is made: and this we are inclined to regard as numerous nobility,-the close union of these few into a neglect not very pardonable in the editor of a work of clans, by means of frequent intermarriages, had been sucsuch national importance. We have not, after two care- cessful in keeping the executive too weak to organize and ful perusals of the book, been able to ascertain from Mr quiet the country. Literature and science had for some Pitcairn's selections, at what stage of the proceedings, time found their way into the nation; but they were as or in what manner, the witnesses were examined, or even yet only struggling for a firm footing, even among the whether it were thought necessary to examine them at wealthier and more easy classes. A few bright lights all. We could have wished more clear information on this there were, but the mass of the nation remained as yet particular, for, from what appears, we are inclined to sus-dark-neither softened nor warmed by their ray. Turpect that the officers of the crown were at that time in bulence and rudeness, but, to counterbalance them, a want the practice of receiving the information, upon which of the more polished vices, were the characteristics of sothey proceeded, on oath; and that if the "dittay" bore ciety. Among the people had been kindled the zeal of that the communications were so made, or, if the king's an ascetic and intolerant system of religion. The deep advocate swore to the truth of the facts therein stated, devotion which it recommends as the motive of every acthe assize required no further evidence. The only infor- tion, the rigid correctness of life which it enjoins, were mation we obtain on this point is :-first, in the case of destined, at a later period, to form a peasantry of high "William Huchesoun, and his spous," (p. 43,) where we and severe moral worth; but, at that time, they seem but find the woman's prelocutor calling upon the King's advo- to have exaggerated the unquiet and harsh features of the cate to swear to the truth of one of his assertions ;-in the Scottish character. case of Grahame of Fyntrie, (p. 74,) where the "preloquitor" for the panel produced, after the "dittay" was read, a letter from one of the pursuers, declaring "that he was onlie moueit be malice of utheris personnis to persew the same;" which does not seem to have been attended to;-and lastly, in the case of Johnne Mayne, (p. 82,) where the "testimoniallis and writtis" produced both for and against "the pennall" are inserted at full length, but without any notice how or when they were laid before the assize. The only other ground we have to go upon, is the general form of recording the verdict; from which it would seem, that the assize were in the habit of retiring immediately after the reading of the libel, and the conclusion of the pleadings to the relevancy, taking with them the “takinnis and depositioneis produceit," and making up their minds among themselves. This, joined to the possibility (vide case of Megot and Dobye, pp. 4 and 7) that months might elapse between the commencement and termination of a case, during the whole of which period the jurors were mixing in society as usual, left great room for undue bias and misrepresentation. For the sake of having some elucidation of this point, as well as for the great skill and subtlety shown in the drawing of some of the indictments and pleadings on the relevancy, we could have wished a greater degree of fulness in the selections; and we hope to find this wish gratified in future numbers.

A good number of our readers will, in all probability, give us small thanks for dwelling so long on this subject. We can only say, in our defence, that it seemed important; and we now turn to that view of the work in which all take an interest-the picture it gives us of the age.

From what we have said of the nature and form of the Records, the reader will easily conceive that we hear in them, as it were, but the echo of the waves of society which were at that time lashed into such noise and commotion. We see the facts through the cold medium of abbreviated legal forms; and, moreover, the selection of the editor is confined almost exclusively to offences of a political nature, or connected with political feuds, or originating in the superstition or bigotry of the age. We are not very conversant with the records of our Justiciary Court, and cannot, consequently, say from experience whether the kinds of crime which now-a-days keeps it exclusively employed, were then thought scarce worthy its notice; but if theft, fraud, and such matters, are to be found in the original, we should have liked to have found some notice of them here; for, from their comparative

In accordance with this sketch, we find, in the book now before us, a court of justice, timid and dilatory in its proceedings; interrupted now by the non-appearance of the culprit, now by a deficiency in the number of those who ought to have taken a part in its deliberations, and not unfrequently by the interference of the King. Most of the offences, we have already said, originated in the disturbed political state of the country. We have frequently instances of men called on to underly the penalties of law for absenting themselves from the King's army-from the raids, as they were then called. The Court of Justiciary seems not unfrequently to have been used by political parties as a means of wreaking their malice upon each other, after the civil power had wrested their weapons from their hands. In the numerous cases of "slauchter," when we find a number of men put to the bar for a murder, we may be almost sure that, in the course of a page or two at furthest, we are to find the kin of the murdered man arraigned for killing a friend of the first accused. Comparatively few of these cases of slaughter and oppression seem to have had their origin in private brawls, and these few are confined, in a great measure, to the Highlands and Borders, which, from very different causes, seem to have been equally behind the rest of the country in civilisation. Of treason, we have ample store in these pages. The murder of Darnley, and of the two regents, Murray and Lennox; the execution of Morton and the Raid of Ruthven, occupy a goodly portion of them, and some interesting and authentic, if not exactly new information, on these points, is given. The book bears testimony, in like manner, to the zeal with which priests and their favourers were hunted out. With regard to private criminality, we are sorry to say that three very improper connexions with married women have a prominent place; and that the money and plenishing of the jolly dames seem in all the three to have been the chief object of the gallant, as their waste seems to be the chief topic of the husband's complaint. In the case of the Mongomeries of Scotstoun, we have a tale of the most unmanly and brutal violence that ever disgraced a country's annals, (p. 60.) The only remaining matters that can have any interest for a general reader, are three rather minutely detailed cases of witchcraft. The first is the case of Bessie Dunlop, (p. 49.) This poor woman seems to have been a visionary: there is nothing malicious in her self-delusion, nor impure in the feelings upon which her day-dreams seem to have been founded. Though all had been true that was laid

to her charge, we cannot for our life see its guilt. Her ists-11th, Church Establishment-12th, Blencathrastory contains an interesting exposition of the popular Threlkeld Tarn-The Cliffords-Privileged Orders-The superstition of the time. The case of Alesoun Peirsoun American Government-13th, The River Greta-Trade(p. 161) is yet more pitiable. She seems to have been-Population-Colonies-14th, The Library-15th, The alike weak and sickly in body and in mind. The fearful Conclusion-A number of learned Notes and an Appendix reality with which her nightmare dreams presented are added. themselves to her fancy, is the only crime that we find brought home to her. There is not even an allegation that she ever did, or wished, harm to any human being. Yet both of these women were burnt by the orders of men, who showed themselves in other matters noways deficient in strength or acuteness of intellect. The case of Lady Fowlis is one of a more criminal cast. It is one where we admit the justice of the ultimate sentence, notwithstanding the ridiculous by-ways by which it is come

at.

This is a dreary view of human nature; but what else is to be looked for in the records of crime? On the whole, this book is an interesting one, and worthy of the public attention. If some parts of the detail of its execution be amended in the future numbers, it will prove highly valuable.

It will thus be seen that a great variety of subjects come under discussion, on all of which something is said worth reading, though on some of them Mr Southey holds peculiar tenets, with which we are by no means disposed to agree, and his enlarging upon which, may prevent his book from becoming so popular, as on the whole it deserves. The conversations are supposed to take place between the spiritual essence of Sir Thomas More (who is allowed to revisit the glimpses of the sun for this special purpose) and Mr Southey himself, under the fanciful name of Montesinos. We must refer our readers to the work for any accurate notion of its contents; but one or two short and detached passages we shall have much pleasure in extracting, as specilates to one of his own lakes, mens of our author's truly excellent style. The first re

DERWENTWATER.

We have felt considerably interested (and perhaps our feelings may be shared by some of our readers) to find, in pe"A tall, raw-boned, hard-featured North Briton said rusing these volumes, those whose names we have been acone day to one of our Keswick guides, at a moment when customed to meet with only in the narrative of high poli- I happened to be passing by, Well, I have been to look at your lake; it's a poor piece of water, with some shabby tical emulation, or (higher yet) in the poet's song, dischar-mountains round about it.' He had seen it in a cold, dark, ging quietly the ordinary avocations of life. That the names cheerless autumnal afternoon, to as great a disadvantage as, of Darnley, Morton, and Gowrie should occur, and that our I suppose, from the stamp of his visage, and the tone and distinguished lawyers should play a distinguished part in temper of his voice, he could have wished to see it, for it these annals, was to have been expected; but among the light it up. I have visited the Scotch Lakes in a kindlier was plain he carried no sunshine in himself wherewith to jurymen also, we meet with old acquaintances. We have disposition; and the remembrance of them will ever be only time to specify George Heriot, goldsmith. His ha- cherished among my most delightful reminiscences of natubit of serving as juryman, sufficiently accounts for the inti- ral scenery. I have seen also the finest of the Alpine lakes, mate acquaintance he displayed in after life with the law of and felt on my return from both countries, that if DerScotland, as the reader may find recorded in the pages of wentwater has neither the severe grandeur of the Highland that true history, "The Fortunes of Nigel." waters, nor the luxuriance and sublimity and glory of the Swiss and Italian, it has enough to fill the imagination and to satisfy the heart."-Vol. i. pp. 237-8.

Sir Thomas More; or Colloquies on the Progress and Pros-
pects of Society. By Robert Southey, Esq. LL. D. Poet
Laureat, &c. &c. &c. with Plates. Two vols. London.
John Murray. 1829.

Our next quotation we consider a passage of much beauty:

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH.

"Surely to the sincere believer, death would be an obTHE purity of Mr Southey's style, and the varied stores ject of desire instead of dread, were it not for those ties of his information, make him the best writer of English those heart-strings-by which we are attached to life. Nor prose now living. We do not mean to apply this praise so indeed do I believe that it is natural to fear death, howmuch to his matter, as to his execution; for though the for-ings I have little right to judge; for, although habitually ever generally it may be thought so. From my own feelmer is commonly far above mediocrity, it is seldom so conspicuously excellent as the latter.

mindful that the hour cometh, and even now may be, it has never appeared actually near enough to make me duly appreThe work which the Poet Laureat has now given to the hend its effect upon myself. But from what I have obserpublic, is of no small dimensions, and bears the traces of ved, and what I have heard those persons say whose procareful and laborious composition. The great research which fessions lead them to the dying, I am induced to infer that he displays in the course of it, and the extent of reading and the fear of death is not common, and that where it exists, learning which he calls to his aid, without ostentation or from any principle in our nature. Certain it is, that among it proceeds rather from a diseased and enfeebled mind, than pedantry, are perhaps its most prominent features. With the poor, the approach of dissolution is usually regarded many parts of it we have been much pleased. The tone of with a quiet and natural composure, which it is consolatory the whole is grave and dignified, and at the same time be- to contemplate, and which is as far removed from the dead nevolent and gentle. We cannot, however, say that, after palsy of unbelief, as it is from the delirious raptures of a pretty attentive perusal, we have been so much struck fanaticism. Theirs is a true unhesitating faith; and they are willing to lay down the burden of a weary life in the with the profundity or originality of the author's views, as sure and certain hope of a blessed immortality. Who, inwith the copiousness of his illustrations, the fine English deed, is there that would not gladly make the exchange, if he richness and vigour of his style, and the interesting man- lived only for himself, and were to leave none who stood ner in which lighter and more imaginative writing is occa- in need of him, no eyes to weep at his departure, no sionally dovetailed into the serious disquisitions and abstract hearts to ache for his loss? The day of death, says the reasonings in which the work abounds. The Colloquies, of Preacher, is better than the day of one's birth,-a sentence which there are fifteen, bear the following titles: 1st, In- that he has not lived ill, must heartily assent. to which, whoever has lived long, and may humbly hope The exceltroduction-2d, The Improvement of the World-3d, The lent Henry Scougal used to say, that, abstracted from the Druidical Stones-Visitations of Pestilence-4th, Feudal will of God, mere curiosity would make him long for anoSlavery-Growth of Pauperism-5th, Decay of the Feudal ther world.' How many of the ancients committed suicide System-Edward VI.-Alfred-6th, Walla Crag, Owen from the mere weariness of life, a conviction of the vanity of Lanark―7th, The Manufacturing System-Sth, Steam of human enjoyments, or to avoid the infirmities of old -War-Prospects of Europe-9th, Derwentwater-Ca-state, not with the hope of change, for in their prospect age! This, too, in utter uncertainty concerning a future tholic Emancipation-Ireland-10th, Crosthwaite Church there was no hope; but for the desire of death."-Vel. i. -St Kentigern-The Reformation-Dissenters-Method- pp. 241-3.

The following will be read with interest :

MR SOUTHEY'S LITERARY CAREER.

"Never can any man's life have been past more in accord with his own inclinations, nor more answerably to his own desires. Excepting that peace, which, through God's infinite mercy, is derived from a higher source, it is to literature, humanly speaking, that I am beholden, not only for the means of subsistence, but for every blessing which I enjoy ;-health of body, and activity of mind, contentment, cheerfulness, continual employment, and therewith continual pleasure Suavissima vita indies sentire se fieri meliorem; and this as Bacon has said, and Clarendon repeated, is the benefit that a studious man enjoys in retirement. To the studies which I have faithfully pursued, I am indebted to friends with whom, hereafter, it will be deemed an honour to have lived in friendship; and as for the enemies which they have procured to me in sufficient numbers, happily I am not of the thin-skinned race: they might as well fire small-shot at a rhinoceros, as direct their attacks upon me. In omnibus requiem quæsivi, said Thomas à Kempis, sed non inveni nisi in angulis et libellis. I too have found repose where he did, in books and retirement, but it was there alone I sought it: to these my nature, under the direction of a merciful Providence, led me betimes, and the world can offer nothing which should tempt me from them."-Vol. ii. p. 346.

We subjoin only one other extract on an important subject, and on which no one has a better right to deliver an opinion than Mr Southey :

Biographical Sketches and Authentic Anecdotes of Dogs; with a copious Appendix on the Breeding, Feeding, Training, Diseases, and Medical Treatment of Dogs; together with a Treatise on the Game Laws. By Captain Thomas Brown, F. R.S.E., &c. Edinburgh. Oliver and Boyd. 1829. Pp. 570.

WHEN Pierre says that he is "a friend to dogs," he gives for his reason, that they are "honest creatures." Now "honesty" implies virtue, and virtue implies reason, and reason mind, and mind soul, and soul immortality. This is just the point we wish to come to ;-we cannot help believing that dogs have souls, and that those souls are immortal. Put an intelligent dog by the side of a silly man, and what will be the result of the comparison ?-unquestionably this, that in all things the quadruped is superior to the biped, only, that the one, possessing accidentally the power of speech, which has been denied to the other, has been enabled, by the facilities thus afforded for mutual co-operation with his fellow-men, to make farther advances from a state of primitive nature. Yet even with the vast advantage to be derived from the power of uttering articulate sounds, are the naked savages of central Africa-men though they be entitled to look down with proud contempt upon the Newfoundland or the shepherd's dog? Deprive these savages of speech, and we question very much whether they would conduct themselves with so much moral and intellectual propriety as dogs generally do. And, on the other hand, give speech to dogs, and thus enable them to form themselves into communities, and we see nothing chimerical in "More lasting effect was produced by translators, who, supposing, that their progress in civilisation, science, and in later times, have corrupted our idiom as much as, in early the fine arts, would be great and rapid. Intensity and arones, they enriched our vocabulary; and to this injury the dour of feeling are universally allowed to lie at the foundaScotch have greatly contributed; for, composing in a language which is not their mother tongue, they necessarily tion of the brightest achievements of genius; and where do acquired an artificial and formal style, which, not so much we find such devoted attachment-such unshrinking fidethrough the merit of a few, as owing to the perseverance of lity-such unhesitating confidence such generous heroism others, who for half a century seated themselves on the such disinterested friendship, as in dogs? We ask the bench of criticism, has almost superseded the vernacular question with a grave and melancholy conviction, that the English of Addison and Swift. Our journals, indeed, have answer must be "Nowhere!" Man, it is true, can give been the great corrupters of our style, and continue to be so; his sentiments expression, clothing them in the pleasant and not for this reason only. Men who write in newspapers, and magazines, and reviews, write for present effect; garb of flowery language, and thus attach to them an imin most cases, this is as much their natural and proper aim, portance which they do not possess, and an apparent duraas it would be in public speaking; but when it is so, they bility which is no part of their nature; but then how are the consider, like public speakers, not so much what is accurate virtues which he can thus occasionally display alloyed and deor just, either in matter or manner, as what will be accept-based by the continual intermixture of more sordid elements! able to those whom they address. Writing also under the excitement of emulation and rivalry, they seek, by all the Dogs cannot blazon forth their good deeds, nor can they artifices and efforts of an ambitious style, to dazzle their write sonnets to the lady of their love; but if their lives are readers; and they are wise in their generation, experience more obscure, they are far less characterized by the indulhaving shown that common minds are taken by glittering gence of vice and unholy passions. Far better to shake the faults, both in prose and verse, as larks are with looking-honest paw of a dumb Newfoundland dog, than to grasp the glasses.

THE CORRUPTION OF ENGLISH STYLE.

"In this school it is that most writers are now trained;

hand of many a plodder through the tawdry meanness of his selfish life!

and after such training, any thing like an easy and natural movement is as little to be looked for in their compositions, If any one wishes to entertain enlarged and enlightened as in the step of a dancing-master. To the views of style, opinions regarding this noble class of animals, (whether he which are thus generated, there must be added the inaccu- coincide in the sentiments we have just expressed or not,) let racies inevitably arising from haste, when a certain quanti-him peruse these " Biographical Sketches" and " Authenty of matter is to be supplied for a daily or weekly publication, which allows of no delay,-the slovenliness that confidence as well as fatigue and inattention will produce, and the barbarisms which are the effect of ignorance, or that smattering of knowledge which serves only to render ignorance presumptuous. These are the causes of corruption in our current style; and when these are considered, there would be ground for apprehending that the best writings of the last century might become as obsolete as ours in the like process of time, if we had not in our Liturgy and our Bible, a standard from which it will not be possible wholly to depart."-Vol. ii. pp. 390-3.

These volumes are got up in a manner which reflects credit even on Mr Murray, and are enriched with several beautiful engravings. There can be little doubt that they will still farther increase the well-earned reputation of one of the most industrious, learned, and zealous authors of the present age.

tic Anecdotes" just published by Captain Brown. He will here find, besides a mass of highly useful and delightful information regarding the natural history and habits of every species of dog, upwards of two hundred and twenty anecdotes, illustrative of their dispositions, and all of the most entertaining kind. Captain Brown has pursued his subject with indefatigable industry and enthusiasm, and hesitates not to express his conviction, that the dog "possesses intellectual qualities of a much higher nature than mere instinct, and that many of his actions must be ascribed to the exercise of reason, in the proper sense of the word." Elsewhere he dwells on the unsullied and inviolable ardour and purity of the dog's attachment,-on his anxiety to execute, and even to anticipate, his master's wishes, on his dread of giving offence,-on his zeal, vigour, and gratitude for the little kindnesses he receives,-on his firmness in submitting to punishment, and on his indignation at unmerited injury. With such dispositions and capabilities, give dogs language, and

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