CRITICAL NOTICES.

The Young Rifleman's Comrade; a Narrative of his Military Adventures, Captivity, and Shipwreck. Philadelphia. Carey & Lea. 1827. 12mo pp. 308. THOSE who found entertainment in the "Adventures of a Young Rifleman," and of a "French Sergeant," will be pleased with this volume. It purports to be the narrative of a private soldier, who served first in the armies of France under Bonaparte, and afterwards in those of England. In regard to the truth of the events related, it is probably much on a level with its prede cessors, having, like them, a strong appearance of probability, and being, it is likely, in the main a statement of facts; though the fitting up is undoubtedly by a more skilful hand than that of the pretended narrator. This book is amusing, as much so, we should think, as the "Young Rifleman," though inferior to the "Adventures of a French Sergeant. The author began his military life among the French troops which entered Spain in 1807, ostensibly to protect the country from the English, but in fact to secure it for Bonaparte. He gives an interesting account of the disgust with which they were received by their protegés, and of the bloody strife which it soon kindled. In the course of the struggle our hero was taken prisoner, and transported, after much suffering from close confinement, to the island of Cabrera. He gives a brief description of the situation of the prisoners there, so well set forth in the "Adventures of a French Sergeant." After remaining here three years, the wish for freedom induces him to enter the English service, and he sails with a detachment for Sicily. As a specimen of his manner, we extract a part of his remarks on that country, which, however, so far as they relate to the inhabitants, are not to be received without considerable allowance.

1

66 Sicily, in truth, is one of the few countries which may be called rich, even to superfluity, in the various necessaries and luxuries of human life. Every fruit of the earth is produced in abundance: oranges, figs, carobs, Indian figs; all sorts of vegetables; wines of the most agreeable strength and flavor;-the whole are to be had without requiring the aid of much tillage of the ground, which, if it be but slightly cultivated, returns with tenfold interest the seeds entrusted to its bosom. To counterbalance this prodigality of nature, however, the inhabitants of the country are extremely indolent, using no exertion to make the most of its indigenous advantages. For

the last century no improvement whatever has been made in the manners or genius of the natives of Sicily; the same ploughing utensils, the same carts, the same vestments, all continue, and will still continue, at least so long as the government shall remain in its state of reprehensible supineness. I have several times inquired of young, active-looking boys, begging about the streets, for what reason they did not endeavour to get work? to which the universal reply was, 'We don't want it; we receive our dinner at the convent of San Dominico, and make provision for other wants as chance directs;' that is to say, they unite the praiseworthy occupations of begging and stealing. The dolce far niente ('the sweet trade of doing nothing') is, in fact, highly popular among all classes of the people; and the come sta which salutes your ears at every moment, should be taken literally, as to stand still seems the most delightful enjoyment of a Sicilian's existence. You may constantly see a number of persons sauntering about the livelong day, in order to offer articles for sale which scarcely amount to the value of two or three farthings, their principal object being to overreach you by every means in their power. pp. 124-126.

From Sicily he went to Naples. The following ludicrous incident occurred during the voyage.

"On board our ship was an ape, the property of the captain; and by the curious tricks of this animal we were greatly amused. An old gentleman of Naples was likewise on board, in the character of a passenger; he wore a perruque, and the ape had for a long time cast wistful glances thereon; his intentions were obviously to abstract it, but they were foiled by the watchful diligence of the proprietor. One day, however, when we had just passed the Stromboli, and every one's attention was absorbed by the view of Etna, which lay before us, the mischievous monkey took advantage of our reveries to spring upon the Neapolitan, to seize the unfornate wig, and to bound, before any one could intercept him, up to the cross-stay of the middle-mast. The lamentations of the bereaved old gentleman, whose bald pate was thus left unprotected, excited, on the one hand, our universal commiseration ; but, on the other, when we looked up at the ape, who had put on the perruque the wrong side foremost, we burst into involuntary shouts of laughter, which after a while infected the good-natured loser himself.

"It was quite impossible to catch the thief, who climbed successively to the very highest point of the mast, making so many grimaces that we were fairly compelled to hold our sides. In the evening he descended, bearing with extreme carefulness the stolen perruque under his arm, and hastening to his crib, which was situated under the step of the cabin, where we secured him, and rescued the wig, which we restored to its disconcerted owner." pp. 161, 162.

He subsequently goes to England, and engages on board an East-Indiaman to make a voyage to China. The account of the voyage, of the wreck of the ship soon after doubling the Cape of Good Hope, and of the situation and conduct of the crew left on a sand bank in the midst of the ocean, are taken, we are told, from the journal of a midshipman belonging to the ship, a friend of our hero, and form altogether as interesting a story as any of the kind that we remember to have met with, though much given, in our younger days, to reading "The Mariner's Chronicle." Our hero and the other survivors are finally released from their desolate abiding-place, and carried back to England, from whence he returns to his native country. We are inclined to think, on the whole, pretty well of this book. The gleanings of a private soldier, it is true, cannot add much to the stock of knowledge already accumulated respecting Spain, Sicily, and England. But the incidents which fell under his observation are related in a natural and amusing manner, and, as half the reading which is done in this world has amusement for its object, any book may be considered useful which is harmless, and contrives at the same time to serve up some valuable information in a shape that will not offend the fastidious palates of a generation of novel-readers. It is indeed refreshing to meet now and then with a book which pretends to deal in matter of fact. How far this book is actually deserving of credit, we do not pretend to say, but it really merits encouragement for not being ashamed of professing to tell the truth.

Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland. Philadelphia. Carey & Lea. 1827. 12mo. pp. 257.

THIS is a very amusing volume, consisting of stories common among the peasantry of Ireland, in some cases given in the very words of the peasant narrator, and in all retaining much of the raciness of his manner. It is somewhat similar to the collection translated from the German of MM. Grimm, and republished in this country a few months since. The stories in the book before us, however, are not so exclusively nursery tales, but fictions which amuse or affright the grown up children of the lower classes. These legends make us acquainted with several different classes of spirits.

The Sheffro, or moonlight fairy, common to the popular fictions of so many countries, is a capricious little spirit, doing good or ill to the individuals of the human race, as the caprice of the moment prompts, given to stealing infants, and substituting some ill-favored sprite in the room of the mother's darling.

The Cluricaune, a species of the fairy race, which appears to be indigenous in Ireland, the head-quarters of convivialty. The favorite resort of the Cluricaune is the wine cellar, where he stands sentry over the casks of good liquor, and frightens the servants who come to draw it. There is no such thing as getting rid of him; for when his tricks have made the house too unquiet to stay in, and the good folks have packed up bag and baggage, and are on the point of " flitting," he will be seen on a cart-load of wine casks, popping his head out of a bung-hole, ready to decamp with the rest of the family.

The Phooka is a spirit who frequents solitary places, and is apt to make free with night-wanderers, especially those who have more wine than wisdom in their heads. These she is fond of whisking away on journeys to the moon, or tumbling down precipices. In fact, every man who breaks his nose under the influence of whiskey, throws the blame upon the evil spirit Phooka.

The Banshee is only seen or heard just before the approach of death to the individuals of particular families. She is not often visible, but her presence is usually announced by loud wailing near the chamber of the dying.

Besides the tales which relate to these classes of spirits, there are several others of beings dwelling in splendid abodes at the bottom of lakes, and occasionally appearing on the surface of the earth.

These stories are told with much spirit, and present a lively picture of the popular superstitions of Ireland. They exhibit the workings of strong imaginations, unchecked by reason or knowledge, but, perhaps, on that very account more picturesque and original. Out of such materials, men of genius have constructed the most entertaining fictions. They afford, moreover, much food for serious thought. The picture of human weakness is interesting, as well as that of human power. The spectacle of undisciplined minds running into wild vagaries, which impair their strength and diminish their happiness, is impressive and mournful, and places in a strong light the benefits of intelligence, the advantages of education. These visions belong to the night, and vanish with the dawn. It is humiliating to reflect, that a large part of Europe, which calls itself the most enlightened portion of the globe, is still given up to the superstitions of a darker age. The difference in intellectual light, between the men of education and the great body of the people, is immense, unnatural, pernicious, and could result only from a vicious political organization. The witches, fairies, and apparitions, which frightened the people of Europe in the fifteenth century, have not lost their terrors in the nineteenth, and never will until wealth and power, and consequently intelligence, are

more equally distributed among the inhabitants of its several states. If we turn to our own country, we shall be gratified with seeing that these chimeras have little hold on the minds of our people. They have fled before the wide-spread intelligence produced by our happy political condition. This reflection may console us for the comparative scantiness of our popular fictions. If we are compelled to admit that such a collection as the one before us could not be made in this country, we may look at the reason, and be satisfied. Our countrymen do not see ghosts, because they are not shut up in the dark.

Tales of a Voyager to the Arctic Ocean. In Two Volumes. Philadelphia. Carey & Lea. 1827. 12mo.

THIS book purports to be the narrative of a valetudinarian, who, finding a voyage necessary for his health, embarked on board a Greenland whaler, and braced his languid frame amid the rigors of the Frozen ocean, instead of seeking the sunny skies of Italy or the south of France. The account of the voyage, however, occupies but a small part of the volumes. They consist mainly of stories, which the writer professes to have heard from his companions on shipboard, and the officers of other whalingships whom he met. That the writer has actually made such a voyage as he describes, is very probable from his familiarity with nautical manners and northern icebergs, and we may even admit that he heard the outlines of his stories from his comrades and acquaintance in the expedition. They must, however, have undergone subsequently a great deal of filling up and polishing before they assumed their present form, for several of them have no small degree of merit. The writer is evidently a man of talent and cultivation, with a strong conception of character, and uncommon powers of describing external nature. The situation of a ship in a storm on the Arctic ocean among tumbling icebergs, the eagerness of the whalers in the chase of their gigantic game, a battle of a boat's crew on the water with three polar bears, and in fact most of the sketches of nautical scenes contained in these volumes, are given with very considerable effect. The habits and manners of the sailors, and their Greenland frolics, are described in a lively way. The stories are all of them worth reading, which is more than we can say for a large part of the number with which the world is favored, and several have much more than ordinary merit. "The Nikkur Holl," a tale of a Shetland fisherman, seduced by avarice to commune with demons, for the sake of discovering shipwrecked treasure, and perishing in