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but they want power, which we are afraid Hervey's compositions will always want. The Rev. Charles Hoyle has a number of sonnets scattered through the volume; but they are all as dull as they can be: we do not say they are destitute of talent, but they are terribly dull. James Montgomery continues to write pretty profusely in the Annuals; but we cannot say that his minor pieces appear to us in general worthy of their author. Alaric Watts has himself three or four very pleasing and beautiful poems in his Souvenir. "The Anniversary," in particular, is one of his happiest efforts.

Who the author

of" Lillian" is we do not know, but it is evidently a person of considerable poetical ability, as the following touching and original composition proves :


By the Author of " Lillian."

"How shall I woo her?-I will stand
Beside her when she sings;
And watch that fine and fairy hand
Flit o'er the quivering strings:
And I will tell her I have heard,
Though sweet her song may be,
A voice, whose every whisper'd word
Was more than song to me!

"How shall I woo her?-I will gaze In sad and silent trance,

On those blue eyes whose liquid rays
Look love in every glance;
And I will tell her eyes more bright,
Though bright her own may beam,
Will fling a deeper spell to-night
Upon me in my dream.

"How shall I woo her?-I will try
The charms of olden time,

And swear by earth, and sea, and sky, And rave in prose and rhyme;— And I will tell her when I bent

My knee in other years,

I was not half so eloquent,-
I could not speak for tears!

"How shall I woo her?-I will bow

Before the holy shrine ;

And pray the prayer, and vow the vow,
And press her lips to mine;
And I will tell her when she parts
From passion's thrilling kiss,
That Memory, to many hearts,
Is dearer far than bliss.

"Away! away! the chords are mute,
The bond is rent in twain ;-
You cannot wake that silent lute,
Nor clasp those links again:

Love's toil, I know, is little cost,
Love's perjury is light sin;

But souls that lose what I have lost,-
What have they left to win?"

There is a good poem by Barry Cornwall, called "The Ruins of Time;" and a very respectable one by Mr Moir, called "Flodden Field." Thomas Haynes Bayley has some humorous stanzas called " Vanity Fair," and some graver and better ones called "The Neglected Child." We like also " Lunacy," by John Bowring, "The Legend of the Drachenfels," by Winthrop Mackworth Praed, the "Sonnets to Columbus," by Sir Aubrey de Vere, Bart., and the "Address to certain Gold Fishes," by Hartley Coleridge, a young man of great genius, but we are afraid never destined to turn it to good practical account. The three poems by the three American poets are all interesting. "A Summer Scene," by Robert Morris of Philadelphia, is one of the best things in the volume, and certainly calculated to make some of our own minstrels look to their laurels. We have room for only one other quotation, and it shall be a lively anonymous piece, entitled,..

AIR-" Sweet Kitty Clover."

"Where is Miss Myrtle?-can any one tell?
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
She flirts with another, I know very well;
And I-am left all alone!

She flies to the window when Arundel rings;
She's all over smiles when Lord Archibald sings;
It's plain that her Cupid has two pair of wings;
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
Her love and my love are different things;
And I-am left all alone!

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"Whenever we go to the Downs for a ride,
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
She looks for another to trot by her side:
And I-am left all alone!

And whenever I take her down stairs from a ball,
She nods to some puppy to put on her shawl:
I'm a peaceable man, and I don't like a brawl ;-
Where is she gone, where is she gone?

But I would give a trifle to horse whip them all;
And I-am left all alone!

"She tells me her mother belongs to the sect,
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
Which holds that all waltzing is quite incorrect,
And I am left all alone!

But a fire's in my heart, and a fire's in my brain,
When she waltzes away with Sir Phelim O'Shane;
I don't think I ever can ask her again;

Where is she gone, where is she gone,

And, lord! since the summer she's grown very plain,
And I-am left all alone!

"She said that she liked me a twelvemonth ago,
Where is she gone, where is she gone?

And how should I guess that she'd torture me so?
And I-am left all alone!

Some day she'll find out it was not very wise,
To laugh at the breath of a true-lover's sighs;
After all,-Fanny Myrtle is not such a prize!
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
Louisa Dalrymple has exquisite eyes:
And I'll be no longer alone !"

We have scarcely said any thing of the prose Tales; and the reason is, that we have only read one or two of them. We can easily perceive, however, that some of them are excellent. They are contributed by Mr Fraser, the author of "The Kuzzilbash,"-by Mr Leitch Ritchie, the author of "Tales and Confessions,"-by Miss Mitford, by Mr Macfarlane, the author of "Constantinople in 1828,"-by Derwent Conway,-by William Howit,and by the authors of "Selwyn" and "Tales of the O'Hara Family." There are three anonymous sketches, called "The Last Man in Town," "The Discovery," and "Morning Calls," which appear to us very poor, and which we wish had been omitted. Take it for all in all, however, this is a volume calculated to afford amusement for many a long winter night.

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year, I have never ceased to remember that information may be blended with amusement, and that Religion is always most powerful when she is made to delight those whom it is her office to instruct." The present volume, which is the fifth of the series, does no discredit to those which have preceded it. The prose contributions are,"The Two Delhis," a spirited Turkish tale,-a paper entitled, "Are there more Inhabited Worlds than our Globe?" by Edward Walsh, M.D. Physician to his Majesty's Forces, a little commonplace, and rather long,—— "Annie Leslie, an Irish Tale," by Mrs S. C. Hall, whose style is a pleasant union of the excellences of Miss Edgeworth and Miss Mitford," The Glen of St Kylas," by Mr Carne, the author of " Letters from the East," "The Lost Life," a clever sketch by Miss Jewsbury,—“ A Tale of Pentland," by the Ettrick Shepherd, full of graphic power and strong interest, like nearly all Hogg's tales,"We'll see about it," another Irish sketch, by Mrs Hall,— "The Anxious Wife," by her husband, Mr Hall, "The First Invasion of Ireland, with some account of the Irish Herculaneum," by the Reverend Robert Walsh, "A Castle in the Air," by Miss Mitford,-and "The Austral Chief," by the Reverend William Ellis, author of "Polynesian Researches."

The poetry is not less varied, The best pieces are the following:- "My Native Vale," by Allan Cunningham, "The Unknown Poet's Grave," by L. E. L.,-" Å Lay of the Martyrs," by the Ettrick Shepherd,-" The Human Heart," by the Honourable Mrs Norton,-" An Old Man's Story," by Mrs Howitt, and " A Domestic Scene," by Mrs Hemans. There are also poems entitled "The Fisherman's Children," by Charles Swain,-" The Tenth Plague," by E. W. Coxe," The Banks of the Dove," by M. T. Sadler, M. P.,—and “Thoughts on Flowers," by Henry G. Bell. To show that a member of Parliament may be thought a good politician, and be but a poor poet, we shall give, as matter of curiosity, Mr Sadler's verses:


By Michael Thomas Sadler, M. P.


My happiest moments are flown;

I must leave the retreats that I love,
For scenes far remote and unknown:
But wherever my lot may be cast,

Whatever my fortunes may prove,
I shall dwell on the days that are past,
And sigh for the banks of the Dove.

"Ye friends of my earliest youth,
From you how reluctant I part!
Your friendship was founded on truth,

And shall ne'er be erased from my heart,
Companions, perhaps, I may find,

But where shall I meet with such love?
With attachments so lasting and kind,

As I leave on the banks of the Dove?

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They fled, but their Memory remains, Nor shall from my bosom remove; As the fugitive flood still retains,

Reflected, the banks of the Dove.

"But I go! for the Dove's crystal wave
Now murmurs, commixt with my tears;
My mother is laid in her grave,
Where yon hallow'd turret appears;
Ye villagers, think of the spot,
And lay me beside her I love;
For here, in my birth-place forgot,

I'll sleep on the banks of the Dove!

"Till then, in the visions of night,

O may her loved spirit descend;
And tell me, though hid from my sight,
She still is my guardian and friend!
The thought of her presence shall keep
My footsteps, when tempted to rove,
And sweeten my woes while I weep

For her, and the banks of the Dove!"

We are often provoked, in looking over the Annuals, to see how feebly and poorly some of the beautiful embellishments are illustrated by the accompanying poems. This is painfully conspicuous in one or two instances in the Amulet. The engraving alone of the "Minstrel of Chamouni" cost 145 guineas, and that of the "Crucifixion" 180, the rest in proportion; yet there is not one of them to which any thing like justice is done. "The Gleaner,” which is a glorious picture, is almost destroyed by some namby-pamby verses of Bernard Barton; and the "Minstrel of Chamouni" hardly escapes any better out of the hands of Mrs Pickersgill. Many of the others are not noticed at all. Leslie's painting of the " Sisters of Bethany" is a splendid production, and has been substituted for another since we noticed the plates. This is all we can say of the Amulet at present, but it is a very hasty and imperfect notice.

Friendship's Offering; a Literary Album, and Christmas and New Year's Present, for 1830. London. Smith, Elder, & Co. 1830. 12mo, pp. 384.

MR PRINGLE, the Editor of Friendship's Offering, which is the second oldest of all the Annuals, the Forget-me-Not, which started in 1823, being the oldest,-informs us, that since Allan Cunningham's Anniversary is off the field, he is desirous of making his work more decidedly Scottish in character than any of its competitors. This is of itself a circumstance sufficient to make it favourably received of this side of the Tweed, independent of the fact, that, in point of embellishment, none of the Annuals surpass the Friendship's Offering; while, in point of literary contents, it need scarcely fear a comparison with the best. Besides most of the authors we have already mentioned, we find contributions in this work, both in prose and verse, from the amiable Editor himself,-William Kennedy, whose healthy manly style we always recognise with pleasure,Henry Mackenzie, whose classical pen we feared had been laid aside for ever, and the very clever and always amu"Authors of the Odd Volume.'" All these are of sing the "North Countrie," and afford no mean accession of strength to the work. We can find room just now for only the following spirited lines:

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By William Kennedy.

"Summers I've number'd three times ten,
I'm a fitting mate for the goodliest men ;
Yet the blood red-rushing from my heart,
With a flood of life to each colder part,
Recoils like a steed from hostile spears,
When I think of what will be in Thirty Years.

"In thirty years, these locks so gay
Will be thinn'd, or grizzled, or worn away;
This eye, like a long-forsaken hearth,
Will sparkle no more with the fire of mirth ;

O'er the smooth white of an ample brow

Will lie frequent tracks of Time's rusty plough:
The rose will fly from my sinking cheek,
My mellow tones will wax sharp and weak;
The limb, that seems turn'd in ivory,
Will sink like the branch of a blasted tree;
And the faithful face of the looking-glass
Will show but the phantom of what I was.
"Nor is it the worst, that a noble form
Must yield up its core to the canker worm;
Other and darker change may come,
With dismal signs of a certain doom;
Age can fix its stern control

Over the heart and over the soul;

It can sweep the heart of its high-wrought feelings;

It can rob the soul of its bright revealings;

The hate, that roll'd like Hell's sulphur tide,
May to a stagnant pool subside;

The love that blazed, a celestial flame,
May wane to a glimmering of shame;

A wretched flicker, that guides to gold,
For which the dotard's peace is sold—

And the spirit-the spirit !-whose far-away flight
Mocks the tardy motion of light,
Which, by its own great impulse driven,

Roams free in the limitless walks of Heaven-
May quiver and fall like a butterfly,

When a storm has blacken'd the summer sky,
A thing of pitiful hopes and fears,
Crush'd by the trample of Thirty Years,
"Thirty summers, past and gone,
Are crumpled by Memory into one;
Still doth thy screech-owl, Memory! hover
Around, and shriek, The best is over!'
The torch of the harpy years has tainted
The glorious banquet Fancy painted;
As a felon, whose day of Hope is done,
Who meets his farewell morning sun,
I see that my sands will soon be flown,
While in life's cold hall I must watch alone,
With nought to remind me of bygone hours,
But dying torches and fading flowers,
And bread that hath polluted been,
And fruit all rottenness within,

And wine that turns young smiles to tears-
Such is the promise of Thirty Years."

This can scarcely be considered as a notice of Friendship's Offering. We shall do it more justice by and by.

The Gem, a Literary Annual. London. W. Marshall. 1830.

We have just received the Gem, and have looked over it with much pleasure. It is evidently greatly superior to what it was last year, when it was edited by Thomas Hood. The present editor conceals his name, but we have reason to know that he is a young man of much promise. The embellishments are, for the most part, very happily chosen; and in the literary contents there is a freshness, and often a vigour, which we do not find so conspicuous elsewhere. We observe, that in addition to the greater number of the names we have already mentioned, Horace Smith, John Malcolm, Miss Isabel Hill, William Jerdan, E. M. Fitzgerald, James Kenney, and others, are contributors. We shall gratify ourselves and our readers by noticing the contents more fully as soon as we can command time; and we anticipate, that in the scale of the comparative merits of all the Annuals which we intend giving this year as we did last, the Gem will hold a high and respectable place.

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there is, among other things, a delightful paper by Mrs
Barbauld, and one or two pictures of children enough to
make old men young again-so full are they of life, na-
We also discover, among a
ture, happiness, and beauty.
great deal of very pretty poetry, some verses by our own
"Gertrude," already known to the readers of the LITE-
RARY JOURNAL, which we think not the least interesting
in the volume, though we say it who should not say it.
-In Mrs Watts' New Year's Gift, we find things no
less delicious; but, instead of speaking of them, we shall
quote, in the first place,



"In which I give a few particulars of my own life and character, but withhold my name.

"I shall not commence, like most autobiographers, with an account of my birth, parentage, and education.

"The first and second I have important reasons for concealing; and the third, education, was to me unnecessary. I was a natural genius,-my powers were all innate. În my earliest infancy, I enlightened and improved more human beings than the wisest sages and profoundest philosophers ever hoped to do, in their fondest schemes for the benefit of the human race.

"Do not suppose that I conceal my origin from false shame. On the contrary, I can outvie in antiquity the proudest prince on earth; and if the Chinese can prove that their first king, Puon-ku, reigned ninety-six millions of years before the Christian era, I can bring undeniable proof that I reigned before him.

"I am a great and rapid traveller. It is recorded, that Euchides, a citizen of Platæa, walked to Delphi, and returned with the sacred fire, before sunset-having walked one hundred and twenty-five miles in one day. I performed the journey in less than half the time!

I have heard of riding wagers,

Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
That run i' th' clock's behalf.'

I have excelled them all! I visited America long before
Columbus was born. I have long ago anticipated Captain
Parry, in making the north-west passage to China ;-if he
had followed my path, he would have found no interruption
from the ice. My constitution can endure extremes-heat
and cold are alike indifferent to me; I have, therefore, gone
farther into the interior of Africa than Park or Bowditch
ever attempted. I have also crossed the Andes, with more
ease and expedition than Captain Head.

"Some Irishman said, that no man could be in two I have been places at once, barring he was a bird.' I can. in more than two hundred places at the same time! "Do not think that I assume to myself an attribute of Deity. There are more than two thousand places where I

am not!

"I have been an eye-witness of many of the most remarkable events in history, sacred and profane.

"I was present at those most sublime and awful periods, I was present with St -the Resurrection and Ascension. Paul, at his conversion; and also when he made Felix tremble. I accompanied Titus, the delight of mankind,' in all his deeds of mercy, and was present when he gave up his property for the relief of the sufferers from an eruption of Mount Vesuvius. I was inseparable from King Alfred. I witnessed the devoted affection of Queen Eleanor, who sucked the poison from her husband's wound at the risk of her own life. I was also at Calais, when Queen Philippa used her benevolent influence to preserve the lives of six citizens who had offered themselves to save their city. "You have already guessed that I am the Wandering Jew-You are mistaken. He was present at the Crucifixion-I was not.

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It is my greatest glory, that I have seldom been present at outrageous deeds of sin and wickedness; indeed, my very presence is often sufficient to deter men from deeds of evil. Plots, contrived with the greatest secresy, are sooner or later brought to me, and I am generally enabled to subvert them.

"As candour and sincerity are my distinguishing characteristics, I may affirm that I have no dark side in my own disposition or conduct.

"I may also declare, without conceit, that I excel in painting; and that Raphael and Rubens were as much indebted to my instructions, as Reynolds and Lawrence have been in later times. I have no ear for music, nor can I produce a note, though I am well versed in the science of harmony.

"It is to the science of optics that I chiefly devote myself,

and have done more to its elucidation than most practical men. I owe a debt of gratitude to Sir Isaac Newton: his discoveries and writings have developed my faculties, and enlarged my capacity. "Poets of renown have celebrated my praise; but to the best of poets, Homer and Milton, I was almost a stranger I am not known as an author, and I never preached a sermon; yet my Reflections on Mankind' have been of incalculable benefit to the human race. Critics will tell you that these reflections are not solid, in fact, have no weight, though they confess they bear some colour of truth.

"I will confess my want of gravity; but I have other properties or qualities, which supply that of solidity. I have an unvaried rectitude of principle, and pursue that line of conduct which leads me directly to my object. My power surpasses that of the greatest potentate on earth; yet so far from exciting fear, or terror, by my presence, fear flies at my approach. I am the harbinger of joy; and it is only in my absence that men turn pale with affright!

My form is slender and agile. I can pass through the narrowest passage; yet I am, at times, so large, that the most spacious chamber will not contain me.

"I cannot describe to you the garb by which to recognize me, as I vary it continually, both in form and colour; and without vanity or extravagance, I conform to every variety of fashion. My constitution is such, that I cannot exist in a dungeon, nor even in a room, if the shutters be closed, and have no aperture. But I must now conclude with a most humiliating confession: you have heard the German story of a man who had no shadow-I am in the same predica


To this, we shall add the following little poem by Mrs Hemans, which ought to be set to music immediately, and sung everywhere:

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tinctly than he has done. As to his impartiality, we confess we were not altogether so sure; for we were well aware that the natural tendency of the education of a clergyman of the Church of England was to foster every and the obstinate enemy of all prelacy. But we are hapkind of prejudice against the leader of the Independents, py to say that our fears have proved unfounded, and that as far as we can judge from the contents of the first volume, which takes us down to the death of Charles I., Dr Russell has allowed himself to be led away by the prepossessions neither of one party nor the other, but has throughout expressed his opinions candidly, temperately, and, we think, justly. Thus, while his style is characterised by great precision, and that useful strength which arises from the rejection of all superfluous ornament, the reader, who is anxious only to investigate the truth, may safely take him for a guide, and will find him one who thinks for himself, without being either too tame or too violent. We do not, of course, mean to say that the book contains no statements which may not be cavilled at by the partisans of either side; but only that the author is fairly entitled to claim to himself the merit of having avoided the two extremes, and of having given "an impartial view of Cromwell's conduct, in his early life, in his first entrance upon public business, in his achievements as a soldier, and in his rise to political power." That he will be equally impartial when he comes to speak of his government of the three kingdoms, we have every reason to hope, his character throughout being made to depend upon his actions, and the reader being constantly supplied with evidence, by means of which he may not only form his own judgment, but may also ascertain the accuracy of the opinions which have been propagated by others.

Such being the view we entertain of Dr Russell's Life of Cromwell upon these essential points, we need scarcely add, that we look upon it as likely to prove, when com pleted, a valuable and excellent work. The period of British history which it embraces is, without question, the most important in the annals of this country; and though a great deal has already been written upon it, the story can afford to be told over and over again every fifty years; for every new generation likes to have these great events put into their own language by some of their own contemporaries. It is, of course, needless to enter here into any analysis of Cromwell's career; and we shall reserve some farther remarks, which we may have to make upon Dr Russell's work, till the appearance of the second volume. Meantime, the following passage, descriptive of Cromwell's Parliamentary abilities, and of his personal appearance, affords a fair specimen of our author's style:

"No wise panegyrist of Cromwell will maintain that, in point of wealth, learning, eloquence, dress, or any external accomplishment, he could bear a comparison with the majority of the members even of the Long Parliament. The secret of his elevation, therefore, must be sought for in the

We have, at present, given our readers only a few ge-exercise of talents which were entirely independent of those neral ideas regarding these delightful books; but they will not be surprised at our not being more minute, when they consider that we are not only the first in Scotland to speak of them at all, but that we have also the start of the London Periodical Press.

outward advantages, which, in the first instance at least, conciliate attention, and bespeak a favourable hearing even in the most factious assembly. Fervour, zeal, and knowledge of the subject under debate, command at length the most reluctant auditor, and confer the charm of oratory on a bare statement of facts. We find accordingly that he soon gained the respect of the House by the depth of his arguments, though delivered without grace, eloquence, or even clearness; and he gradually rose in the favour of the more discerning of the members, by his penetration, his unwearied himself to the dispositions of the leading persons of his own diligence, his courage, and perseverance. He accommodated side; he studied carefully the views and temper of every one whose influence was likely to shape the determinations of his compatriots; and he availed himself equally of the strength and of the weakness of character which he found

Life of Oliver Cromwell. By the Rev. M. Russell,
LL.D. In two volumes. Vol. I. being Volume
XLVII. of Constable's Miscellany. Edinburgh, 1829.
WHAT the readers of a popular work like Constable's
Miscellany naturally look for in a Life of Oliver Crom-
well, is clearness and impartiality. From what we know
of Dr Russell's literary acquirements, we never entertain-
ed any doubt, that in the first of these respects his book
would be exactly what it ought to be. We find, accord-prevailing around him.
ingly, that to great simplicity of narrative he unites great
accuracy of information, and that no one could have told
the story of Cromwell's extraordinary carcer more dis-

history of Cromwell, may be properly concluded with a "This chapter, which has been devoted to the domestic short description of his person. He is said to have been in early life of a robust make and constitution, and his aspect

manly, though clownish. At a later period, he became what Noble calls rather a coarse-looking man.' He had suffered much from the fatigues of a military life, from the anxiety which surrounded the high station to which he ultimately attained, and perhaps from the disappointments incident to an ambition which aspired to a still more lofty eminence. His countenance was usually weather-beaten, his complexion sallow, his features strongly marked, and his nose of a flaming red. In a volume entitled Butler's Remains. it is said that Cromwell wants neither wardrobe nor armour; his face was naturally buff, and his skin may furnish you with a rusty coat of mail; you would think he had been christened in a lime-pit, and tanned alive.' There is much more abuse of this contemptible kind to be found in other royalist writers, who, when the government was restored, thought they could not supply too strong food to gratify the appetite for revenge which the severities of the Protectorate had excited. It is not to be questioned, however, that his physiognomy must have presented a particular conformation. Clarendon says, 'that he had something singular and ungracious in his look and appearance. And a lady, who records her recollections of him in the Annual Register, remarks, that when she saw him, his face was very pale, and his nose of a deep red."

added to his knowledge, and matured his judgment. In regard to posthumous publications, however, the very reverse of all this is to be apprehended. The first selection from the papers of the deceased will naturally comprehend such as are of most value; and if, by the success of one' volume, the editor is tempted to add a second, his choice is now limited to the pieces which he formerly rejected. It was perhaps owing to his consciousness of lying under this disadvantage, that the editor has sought to give interest to the present volume, by something of novelty in It consists, its arrangement, and variety in its contents. for the most part, of Discourses, so arranged with their appropriate prayers and psalms, as to form a sort of Directory for Presbyterian worship. All this is, in our opinion, a little unnecessary, since such an arrangement and such materials, being suited to the service of the Sabbath, and the less circumscribed time of those who assemble for the purpose of public worship, will not be found available for family devotion; nor can we allow that, even on the score of curiosity, such a formula can be of value, since, it may be presumed, that it is already sufficiently faTo this, we may add another passage, indicative of the miliar to those who are likely to be readers of Mr Gracie's volume. We are not aware that our established church tone of impartiality which pervades the whole work: "But it must not be concealed that, associated with the holds so mean a place among Christian communities, as extravagance and affectation which deformed a large portion to be in danger of letting its form of public worship be of English society, there was much sound principle, virtue, forgotten, or saved from becoming the subject of antiquaand patriotism. On both sides we see many things worthy rian research, only by the existence of the publication now of admiration. On the one hand, a brave and intelligent under review. Besides a complete Communion Service, people are about to take the field in the cause of liberty, upon this volume contains several miscellaneous Discourses, and which the recent practice of the government had unquestionably made some serious encroachments; and, on the an Essay on the Reasonableness and Advantages of Prayer, other, a generous nobility, supported by the great body of which, though not quite equal to some of the Discourses the minor barons of the kingdom, present themselves in the in his former volume, are all marked with that winning attitude of defending their sovereign against the fury of de- simplicity, good sense, and occasional warmth of feeling mocratical ambition, which threatened to tread the crown and eloquence, which characterise all that we have seen and sceptre in the dust. If on either part there was an error, it arose from the undue intensity of a laudable motive. of Mr Gracie's pulpit compositions. The Prayers, of which As in the physical constitution of the atmosphere, the prin- there are several, are not among the least creditable parts ciples which compose the invisible fluid which ministers to of the work: they are neither frigidly elaborate, nor life may, by a slight excess of one of the ingredients, be carelessly familiar; they are generally appropriate, eloconverted into a most virulent poison; so in the temper of quent, and sufficiently enriched, though not cumbered, the British people, at that important crisis, the infusion of with Scripture phraseology. Mr Gracie appears to have an intemperate zeal for matters of inferior consequence, pre-entertained a proper sense of the dignity of his profession, cipitated the most virtuous nation in Europe into the miseries of a civil war.

We have no hesitation in again recommending his Discourses to the favour of the public.

and the importance of its duties.

Greenock. Daniel Weir. 1829. 8vo. Pp. 126.

Before concluding, we may remark, that we are not quite pleased with the manner in which the important bat:le of Marston-Moor is described. The whole details are copied from an imperfect account given by a weekly History of the Town of Greenock. By Daniel Weir. Journal of that day, called the Mercurius Britannicus, instead of being taken from various sources, and moulded by the author into a distinct narrative of his own. battle of Naseby is much better told, and shows what Dr Russell can do when he chooses. If his second volume be as good as his first, we scarcely know any work which has yet appeared in the Miscellany that we shall look upon as more entitled to popular favour.


Public Worship and Miscellaneous Discourses. By the late Rev. Archibald Gracie. Edinburgh. Waugh and Innes. 1829. 8vo. Pp. 459.

We had occasion, about the end of last winter, to notice at some length a volume of Sermons selected from the MSS. of the late Mr Gracie. We are happy to find that the favourable opinion which we expressed of these Sermons has been confirmed by the public; and the editor pleads the approbation with which the former volume was received as his apology for now presenting us with some more of his brother's papers. This is rather a hazardous experiment, in so far at least as the reputation of the deceased is concerned. In the case of a living author, one successful publication naturally leads us to expect equal, or even greater, excellence in his next performance. We may reasonably hope that he will have profited by the hints of friendship, and the strictures of judicious criticism—that he shall have acquired greater correctness in composition that experience shall have

THIS is, of course, a work more of local than of general interest. Mr Weir is well known, in the West country, as an amiable and modest writer, and the author of a number of very pretty verses. His History of Greenock, though the contents are somewhat deficient in lucid arrangement, for which, indeed, he apologises in the Preface, is sensibly written, and is creditable to his industry and research.

Its present popula

At the beginning of the 18th century, Greenock was merely a single row of thatched houses, and, in the year 1716, it contained only four slated tenements. A harbour, however, was built, and the town continued to increase slowly. In 1755, the population did not exceed 3800. Soon afterwards, however, its increase became more rapid, and it started up into a flourishing seaport, a character which it has ever since maintained. tion may be estimated at about 27,000, including seamen. Its inhabitants, as was naturally to be expected, have been always more remarkable for opulence and commercial spirit, than for their attention to literature and science. In 1769, the Magistrates, before they admitted Mr John Wilson to the superintendence of the Grammar School, stipulated that he should abandon the "profane and unprofitable art of poem-making." In 1792, a literary society was commenced, but existed only for about eighteen months. Several other societies for the encouragement of arts, science, or literature, have been attempted since, but have nev

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