saved Rome-of the sibylline oracles, one volume was nevertheless spared. Who knows but fancy, who governs love, may decide for me, or that the last page in Fortune's book may be the luckiest?' Concentrating the rays of vision into one focus, that he might ascertain with more certainty the exact distance at which a small skiff lay anchored on the north side of the lake, Evelyn, with an elastic bound, hurled a large pebble, which fortunately alighted in the middle of the boat.

"That's right,' cried he, exultingly, as he bent over the water, tossing back from his forehead the clustering locks which waved in negli

gent disorder to the passing breeze; my part

is done; and now, Fancy, for yours;' addressing at the same time some words of encouraging import to the watchful animal. Fancy obeyed the summons, and plunging into the water, swam towards the opposite shore. For a length of time she kept head above, turning about to satisfy herself that her heroic exertions were not unnoticed, and answering, by renewed activity, the cheering acclamations of her master, whose whole soul seemed intent upon the result. The struggle soon became serious, for the lake was both wide and deep. The muscular powers of poor Fancy gradually relaxed, and, baffled by the current proceeding from a small river which ran into the lake, she suddenly dived under the water, and disappeared. Evelyn, regardless of anything but the danger of his faithful attendant, prepared to plunge after her; but, when a few tremulous moments were over, the poor creature raised her dripping head, and making a desperate effort, reached the boat; couched herself at the stern, tenaciously holding out her forepaw to secure her prize, in a state of panting and breathless exhaustion. Evelyn called to the boatman to drag her out on the opposite side; but Fancy, understanding his halloos as a farther stimulant, rallied her sinking powers, jumped out of the boat, laden with the ominous pebble, and being assisted by the current, reached the shore, deposited the fatal gift at her master's feet, and, after two or three convulsive gasps, expired. Evelyn stooped to raise up her head, and gazed with heartfelt grief upon this hapless victim of a heedless frolic. The men were summoned, and restoratives tried, but in vain.

"And this is what I have gained by my folly!" thought Evelyn, as he stroked the wet silky coat of the spaniel, whose glazed eyes no longer recognised the form on which they had loved to dwell, and placed her fore-paw upon his bended knee: 'Poor Fancy! thou hast paid the penalty of my rash diving into futurity;-the oracle, if indeed it bode good, has been too dearly propi

tiated!'" ii. 312-16.

Observations on the Mussulmauns of India, Descriptive of their Manners, Customs, and Habits. By Mrs. Meer Hassan Ali.

[Second Notice.]

nuptial ring, placed on the forefinger of the right hand. The ear-rings, the gold tissue dress, and the deputtah followed; and when the money-offering-as essential as any of the other articles-was presented, Mrs. Ali fed her fair little friend (a girl of twelve years of age,) with seven pieces of sugar-candy, and retired after giving the first embrace.

After an exchange of dresses, ceremonies, and processions, the youth is at last introduced into the Zenana:

"The ladies crowd into the centre hall to witness, through the blinds of bamboo, the im

portant process of dressing the young bridegroom in his bride's presents. The centre purdah is let down, in which are openings to admit the hands and feet; and close to this purdah a low stool is placed. When all these preliminary preparations are made, and the ladies securely under cover, notice is sent to the male assembly that, Dullha is wanted;' and he then enters the zeenahnah court-yard, amidst the deafening sounds of trumpets and drums from without, and a serenade from the female singers within. He seats himself on the stool placed for him close to the purdah, and obeys the several commands he receives from the hidden females, with child-like docility. The moist mayndhie is then tied on with bandages by hands he cannot see, and, if time admits, one hour is requisite to fix the dye bright and permanent on the hands and feet. During this delay, the hour is passed in lively dialogues with the several purdahed dames, who have all the advantage of seeing, though themselves unseen; the singers occasionally lauding his praise in extempore strains, after describing the loveliness of his bride, (whom they know nothing about), and foretelling the happiness which awaits him in his marriage, but which, in the lottery, may perhaps prove a blank. The sugar-candy, broken into small lumps, is presented by the ladies whilst his hands and feet are fast bound in the

bandages of mayndhie; but as he cannot help himself, and it is an omen of good to eat the bride's sweets at this ceremony, they are sure he will try to catch the morsels which they present to his mouth and then draw back, teasing the youth with their banterings, until at last he may successfully snap at the candy, and seize the fingers also with the dainty, to the general amusement of the whole party and the youth's entire satisfaction."

When all this is over

"The dinner is introduced at twelve, amongst the bridegroom's guests, and the night passed in good-humoured conviviality, although the strongest beverage at the feast consists of sugar and water sherbet. The dancing-women's performances, the display of fireworks, the dinner, pawn, and hooka, form the chief amusements of the night, and they break up only when the dawn of morning approaches." i. 281-2.

The procession to "bring home the bride" is very magnificent; but the marriage cere

is singularly simple. The bride, it will be remarked, has never yet been seen by her

wooer.

kites, in which each party endeavours to cut his adversary's string, and whirl him down from his "pride of place" :

"Having provided themselves with lines, previously rubbed with paste and covered with pounded glass, they raise their kites, which, when brought in contact with each other by a current of air, the topmost string cuts through the under one, when down falls the kite, to the evident amusement of the idlers in the streets or roadway, who with shouts and hurrahs seek to gain possession of the toy." ii. 14-15.

Pigeon-fancying is another great amusewhen they can possibly help it, cock-fightment; and to a people who never walk ing, pigeon-shooting, the dumb bells, wielding the sabre, and darting the lance, vie in attractions with a moderate ride on horseback or on the elephant. The bow and arrow are also greatly in use; and the pellet-bow offers at once an amusement and a necessary occupation:

"The pellet-bow is in daily use to frighten away the crows from the vicinity of man's abode; the pellets are made of clay baked in the sun, and although they do not wound they bruise most desperately. Were it not for this means of annoying these winged pests, they would prove a perfect nuisance to the inhabitants, particularly within the confines of a zeenahnah, where these impudent birds assemble at cooking-time, to the great annoyance of the cooks, watching their opportunity to pounce upon anything they incautiously leave uncovered. I have often seen women placed as watchers with the pellet-bow, to deter the marauders the whole time dinner was preparing in the kitchen. The front of these cooking-rooms are open to the zeenahnah courtyard, neither doors, windows, nor curtains being deemed necessary, where the smoke has no other vent than through the open front into the courtyard.

"The crows are so daring that they will enter the yard, where any of the children may be taking their meals (which they often do in preference to eating them under the confinement of the hall), and frequently seize the bread from the hands of the children, unless narrowly watched by the servants, or deterred by the pellet-bow. And at the season of building their nests, these birds will plunder from the habita tions of man, whatever may be met with likely to make a soft lining for their nests; often, I am told, carrying off the skull-cap from the children's heads, and the women's pieces of calico or muslin from their laps when seated in the open air at work." ii. 19-21.

The Indian-Mohammedans take great pleasure in making elephants drunk, "by certain drugs mixed up with the wax from the human ear," and setting them to fight. Tigers and elephants also enter upon the arena in mortal combat, and tigers and buffaloes, or aligators; or, in the absence of such lofty excitement, it is deemed an amusing pastime to throw in a tame antelope or stag, and see it torn to pieces by a leopard. Tigers and leopards are frequently tamed and brought into the room after breakfast, as an English gentleman would exhibit a favourite spaniel.

As for the ladies, they play at dice, draughts, and cards, or listen to stories like those of the Arabian Nights till they fall asleep :

"Persons of rank are shampooed by their slaves during the hours of sleep, whether it be by day or by night; and if through any accidental circumstance the pressure is discontinued, even for a few seconds only, the sleep is immediately broken: such is the power of habit."

Domestic slavery is represented by Mrs.

Ali as being peculiarly mild among the Mussulmauns; and she tells the following characteristic anecdote of a punishment inflicted upon a female slave :

"I have heard of a very beautiful female slave who had been fostered by a native lady of high rank, from her infancy. In the course of time this female slave had arrived to the honour of being made the companion of her young master, still, however, by her Begum's consent, residing with her lady, who was much attached to her. The freedom of intercourse, occasioned by the slave's exaltation, had the effect of lessening the young creature's former respect for her still kind mistress, to whom she evinced some ungrateful returns for the many indulgences she had through life received at her hands.

A stout silver chain was therefore made, by the Begum's orders, and with this the slave was linked to her bedstead a certain number of hours every day, in the view of the whole congregated family of slaves." ii. 88-9.

Among the medical recipes mentioned by Mrs. Ali, we select two for the benefit of the faculty. The first is, "Drinking the moon":

"A silver basin being filled with water, is held in such a situation, that the full moon may be reflected in it: the person to be benefited by this draught is required to look steadfastly at the moon in the basin, then shut his eyes and quaff the liquid at one draught. This remedy is advised by medical professors in nervous cases, and also for palpitations of the heart."

"I have seen this practised," adds our author; "but I am not aware of any real benefit derived by the patient from the prescription,"

The next is somewhat more practical as well as practicable:---

"The usual application in India to a fresh wound, is that of slacked lime. A man in our employ was breaking wood, the head of the hatchet came off, and the sharp edge fell with considerable force on the poor creature's foot; he bled profusely and fainted, lime was unsparingly applied to the wound, the foot carefully wrapped up, and the man conveyed to his hut on a charpoy (bedstead), where he was kept quiet without disturbing the wound; at the end of a fortnight he walked about, and in another week returned to his labour." i. 299.

their mouths; but, alas! their tender throats were so swollen, that not a drop passed beyond their mouth. They died within a few minutes

of each other." i. 188-9.

We think that young monkeys have the advantage according to the following report:

"The female monkey is remarkable for her attachment to her progeny, which she suckles until it is able to procure food for its own sustenance. When one of her young dies, the mother is observed to keep it closely encircled in her arms, moaning piteously with true maternal feelings of regret, and never parting with it from her embrace until the dead body becomes an offensive mass: and when at last she quits her hold, she lays it on the ground before her, at no great distance, watching with intense anxiety the dead body before her, which she can no longer fold in her embrace, until the work of decomposing has altered the form of the creature that claimed her tender attachment." ii. 225.

We close these volumes in the belief that no description of the manners of India can be made complete without their perusal.

[Second Notice.]

A few words by Mr. Hunt, in explanation of his views in writing this work, ought certainly to be read before the work itself, and as we presume our country friends are just now about to cut the leaves of his pleasant volumes, we think it well to give to his explanation the currency of our pages.

"The work is a novel, and was intended to be one; but a novel of a particular sort. The author despaired of equalling the interest excited by the admirable productions of the writer with whose name all the world is familiar; but as that interest had created a demand for as much as other writers could supply, he cast in his mind how he should render his novel as new as possible, upon some other grounds compatible with probability; and as he happens to be one of those whose studies give them a sort of passion for truth, and by consequence for verisimilitude, he determined, first, to make his work as close a resemblance of an autobiography as was com

There is an exceedingly curious and inter-patible with a novel; and, secondly, to depart esting notice of the first fast of children, who are sometimes permitted, for a day or two during the month of Rumzaun, to test their powers: the trial is said to be very distressing, particularly in the hot season; and one melancholy proof is here given :

in no one instance, however small, from historical fact. He did his best to do both; and it was consequently his wish that the work, while avowedly fictitious, should bear on its face all the helps that could be given it to complete the look of a real memoir. His name was not to appear in public; and he recommended the bookseller to put nothing in the title-page that should interfere with the novelty intended. The title, if he could have had it to stand as he

"The children bore the trial well throughout the morning, and even until the third watch of the day had passed, their firmness would have reflected credit on people twice their age, mak-wished, would have been ' Memoirs of Sir Ralph ing their first fast. After the third watch, the day was oppressively hot, and the children evinced symptoms of weariness and fatigue; they were advised to try and compose themselves to sleep; this lulled them for a short time, but their thirst was more acute when they awoke than before. The mother and her friends endeavoured to divert their attention by amusing stories, praising their perseverance, &c. The poor weak lady was anxious that they should persevere; as the day was now so far gone, she did not like her children to lose the benefit of their fast, nor the credit due to them for their forbearance. The children endeavoured to support with patience the agony that bowed them down-they fainted, and then the mother was almost frantic, blaming herself for having encouraged them to prolong their fast against their strength. Cold water was thrown over them; attempts were made to force water into

Esher, a Gentleman of the Court of Charles the Second, written by himself, and including those of his friend Sir Philip Herne.' There was always a difference of opinion between the author and the bookseller on this point; the title is now given to the public in the ordinary novel shape, and it has been thought proper by the bookseller to publish the author's name. The consequence is, that the reader is apt to look for more of the novel, and less of the autobiography, than the writer intended; and there is a gratuitous air of inconsistency pervading the whole work, arising from the appearance of notes with the signature of Editor,' from which the announcement of the author's name has taken the least show of mystery.

"The author does not mean to be querulous on these points with his publishers, with whom he is on good terms; but simply to do himself and the book what service he can, after his own

way of thinking. Perhaps they know best what the public like, and what the reader is prepared to make allowances for; but as the author has taken pains to put forth a work upon a peculiar model, he is naturally anxious to have his design understood. He was so scrupulous in the matter of verisimilitude, that he invented an occasion for supposing the MS. to have been written in French, in order that the English, in which it is given to the world, should in no respect appear inconsistent with the times in which it is supposed to originate."

Having reverted to these volumes for the purpose of giving this explanation, we shall avail ourselves of the opportunity to extract one of those touching stories referred to in our former review, and, as best suiting our limits, shall give that of the Young Citizen who recovered from the plague by the care and generous devotion of the lady whom he loved.

"A young merchant in the city was seized with the symptoms of the disorder, just as the day had been fixed which was to unite him with his mistress. Some difficulties had been thrown in the way of the union by a crabbed guardian; and many hours had not elapsed from their removal, and every thing been settled (which the lover hastened to see done with the greatest impatience), when the terrible spots appeared

that were to cut him off from communion with the uninfected. It is supposed, that the obstacles in the first instance, and the hurry afterwards, threw his blood into a ferment, which exasperated the attack. He wished to make light of the matter, and to go about his ordinary concerns; but the strangeness of his sensations, and the thought of the peril that he might bring to his mistress, soon made him give up this pretension. He said, that his horror at first inclined him to cry aloud, to tear his hair, and dash himself against the wall of the room; but the thoughts of her again controlled him, and he resolved to go through everything as patiently as might be, lest he should add to his chances of losing her. He sent her a message to that effect, bidding her be of good heart, and then in a passion of tears, which he resolved should be his last, but which, he said, seemed to give him a wonderful kind of humble support, betook himself to his prayers, and so to his bed. He was soon left

alone with none but an old nurse to attend him; but as he did not sleep, and the good woman, observing him tranquil, slept a great deal, he thought next day he might as well rise and go into the garden for a little air. The garden, though in the city, was a very pretty one, and as it abutted on some grounds, belonging on one side to a church, and on the other to a field where they shot at butts, was removed both from sight and noise, and might be called even solitary. He found himself alarmingly weak; and the air, instead of relieving, seemed to bring the weight of an oven with it; but there was grass and roses; and he thought it would add to the grace of his memory with her he loved, if he died in so sweet a spot, rather than in the house. Besides, he could not bear to think of dying in what, he hoped, would have been his bridal bed. These reflections made him again shed tears in spite of himself, and he lay down on a bench under a tree, wishing he could melt away in that tender despair. The young gentleman guessed that he had lain in this way a good hour, during which he had a sleep that a little refreshed him, when he heard himself called by his name. He thought it was the nurse, and looked towards the house, but saw nobody. The name was repeated twice, the last time with the addition of an epithet of tenderness, which he knew could come from no such person. His heart began to beat; and his ear guiding him

'what a blessing to find you here, and nobody to hinder me! I have cheated them, and slunk away-my love! my life! Our lover said, these

last little words had a wonderful effect on him. With all her tenderness, his betrothed bride had never yet indulged it so far as to utter such 'conjugal' words (that was his phrase). He said, they seemed to give her a right to join him; and they filled him with such love and gratitude, that the very languor of his illness became confounded with a bewitching pleasure. He confessed, that the dread of her being infected, though it still recurred to him, was much fainter than before. However, he the more thought it was his duty to urge it, and did so. But the lady had no such dread. She had come on purpose to brave it. In vain he spoke as loudly as he could, and rose up and began to drag his steps towards her; in vain he made signs to her not to descend. 'Dearest Richard,' said she, if you cannot help me down, it is but an easy jump, and do you think anything will induce me to go back? I am come to nurse you, and make you happy.' 'You will die,' said the lover, in a faint voice, now arrived within hearing, and still making signs of refusal. 'Oh no: Heaven will bless us,' cried she: I will not go back, mark me; I will not indeed; I cannot, much less now I have seen you, and in that sick gown. But I see you cannot help me down. You are unable. Therefore I come.' With these words she made the jump, and the next minute was supporting him in her arms. She put her arms round him, and took his repelling hand into hers, and raising herself, kissed him on the mouth, saying, 'Now I belong to you. Let me seat you on the bench, and get you some drink. I am your wife now, and your dear servant, and your nurse.' Their eyes were filled with tears, and the lover could only lift his head towards heaven, as much as to say, that they should at all events live there.' Not being able to reach the bench, he sat down in a thicket of roses. The young lady went to get him some drink, and returned with the news that she had waked the astonished nurse, and sent her to tell her guardian where she was. Nobody expected him to venture to come and fetch her, and he did not. He told the gentleman who had these particulars from him, that this behaviour of his betrothed bride, put him in a state so new and transporting, that he conceived an alteration of his blood must have taken place very speedily after her return from the house; for though he could hardly bear his delight, he began manifestly to get better within an hour afterwards. The lady never received the infection. Their friends said she would, and that two would die instead of one. physician prophesied otherwise. Neither the lover nor his mistress, however, would quit their retreat, till all doubt of the possibility of infecting others was more than done away. In the course of six weeks they were man and wife; and my acquaintance told me, not as many days ago, that they were still living, and a pattern of love and esteem."

The

Le Livre des Cent-et-Un. Vol. III. Paris, 1832. Ladvocat.

THE interest of this delightful work increases with every succeeding volume. The third, received last week, is full of clever papers, and, as the work advances, the genius of the several contributors seems to develope itself. In the present volume, besides Chateau

The Baotians of Paris.

"On the idle part of our Boulevards, in the beautiful walk of the Tuileries gardens, upon the pavement of the Champs Elysées, in the dust of the Bois de Boulogne, in the dress circle at the theatres, in every place, in fine, where there is time to show oneself, you must have remarked a host of spruce, elegant, and perfumed coxcombs, as extraordinary in their manners as in their dress-whose fashions are not of to-day, still less of yesterday, but of to-morrow! These individuals may be compared to the beautiful purses in shop windows-utterly empty-not an idea, not an intellectual farthing to be found.

"But before I go farther, let me define what I mean by idea, and consequently by a thinker and a non-thinker.

"I do not call ideas those ready-made conversations, that talking matter, which the first comer may make his own, and which is a species of stucco, serving only as a covering for folly, or to fill up the cracks of idleness. By idea, I mean a perception of the mind, not weak, fluctuating, mutilated, or fugitive-but clear, brilliant, entire, and lasting; copious enough to keep the brain in a state of turgescence, and prevent it from collapsing like an empty bladder; strong and large enough for meditation to repose upon-not a glimmering, a mere twilight, but a broad and beautiful day-a parent thought engendering a thousand others a pivot, around which a world of secondary imaginings logically gravitate-the centre or sun of an entire intellectual universe.

"Now, how many of such suns shine under the pomatumed pates of the coxcombs you have observed? Not one. If there were only one, their glassy eyes, so like those of stuffed animals, would beam at least with a little light; their faces would have less the appearance of wax, their gait be less indolent, their words less insipid, and their cravats more twisted. At a ball, perhaps, or a play, or a concert, they would feel the same emotions as others do; and you would no longer see them in a stage-box wiping their eye-glasses or biting their walking sticks, when the pit is convulsed with laughter; nor drawing on their gloves or adjusting their whiskers, when the rest of the audience are affected to tears: no longer would they be cold, insensible, and unchangeable, amid the electrical effects of highly-wrought passion or true comic humour, as if their stupidity were a tripod, upon which they stood elevated above all sympathy with the million.

“We have next the great family of plagiarists, a race of dolts, who do not even think with their own faculties, but with those of others-who borrow your brains as they would borrow your hat.

"The first species among them is the manmonkey, who speaks when you speak, holds his tongue when you are silent, and would, I imagine, cut his throat if he saw you commit so rash an act. He is a mere echo. If you say, 'Peace is an excellent thing, when it does not

cost more than war,' he answers, cost more than war.'

"Second species-the man-parrot, who every morning collects here and there, or from the mouth of some clever man, a series of thoughts, which he retails, as long as the day lasts, in every house he enters. He is like the organ which, at the corner of every street, repeats Auber's melodies.

"Third species-the man-vulture, who fattens upon you. It matters not with him whether you be a young author, or the possessor of a celebrated name; if in his presence you utter anything good, it is like taking out your watch before a pick-pocket. You are robbed of your idea, and you may be sure that, before the morrow, all Paris will know it by heart. If you should afterwards repeat it, you are heard with asmile and considered as the plagiarist. This is pleasant!** But he will rob you before your face, and you shall not have a word to say. Fancy yourself in a numerous assembly, seated near him. The conversation runs upon operadancing. Each gives his opinion, and you give yours, and say without the least pretension, 'With Taglioni's legs and Noblet's arms an accomplished dancer might be made.' Unfortunately you are hoarse and your words are not heard; but they are not lost to him, for with a voice which drowns every other, he lustily exclaims, 'An accomplished dancer might be made with Taglioni's legs and Noblet's arms.' A murmur of applause follows these words; and you, who alone do not applaud, are set down as a stupid fellow incapable of comprehending the point of what has been uttered. And who knows?-he may even be so obliging as to repeat to you your own idea, in order that you may be better able to understand it. *

"We now come to the facetious man; the Voltaire of milliners. We shall call him the man-porcupine-an animal so covered with points that no one can touch him without being pricked. His stupid witticisms are borrowed from the Anas of the day, or collected at the pits of the minor theatres.

"The droll-fellow is a variety of this species. The only difference is in the manner of action. The droll-fellow has many of the minor accomplishments; he knows Mayeux by heart-can carry a chair with his teeth-hold a heavy weight at arm's length-and walk upon his hands with his feet in the air. He is likewise a virtuose in face-making, and can take off admirably My Lord Pouf, whom the company never saw. He can use twelve different accents-can bark, mew, and imitate a saw. He is acquainted with the best traditions of La Bourbonnaisse, can recite the part of Orosman, sing Le point du jour, swallow cigar smoke, and play the flagolet with his nostrils.

"All that I have detailed, constitutes the least of his merits. You know that the whale, the crocodile, every animal in short, has a natural enemy in some other animal, which by instinct follows, pursues, attacks, and kills it. Now, to a peaceable man the persecuting animal is the droll-fellow. His whole life is spent in embittering yours. He crushes your fingers when he shakes hands with you-trips you up as you pass-conceals the object you are looking fordraws away the chair upon which you are going to sit-strews chopped horse-hair between your sheets, and locks you in when you are in a hurry to go out. Sometimes he sketches your countenance, to which he adds ass's ears, an elephant's trunk, and stag's antlers, and then writes your name under it. He has also a trick of lining the glasses of your spectacles with paper, putting poudron into your snuff, decorating your back with a paper tail, and sticking a pin upright in the seat you commonly use. At the play he blows his nose during the most pathetic scene. In a crowd he pushes you, then

says in an angry tone, 'Pray, Sir, don't push so.' He takes your arm in the street, induces you to look up, and then leads you against a heap of stones, places you under a rain-spout, or makes you walk in the kennel."

I don't at all mind going without it. I understand nothing of the sort is allowed here.'

"Pooh! pooh! nonsense! do the rascals think a gentleman is to go without his wine because he happens to be in quod?-no, no, a d-n to the whole set of them-they fancy we are to live on bourgu, black broth, psalm sing

The Opera. By the Author of Mothers and Daughters.' 3 vols. London, 1832. Colburn & Bentley.

The Algerines; or, the Twins of Naples. By W. Child Green, Author of 'Alibeg the Tempter,' &c. 3 vols. London, 1832. Newman & Co. THE first of these works is "entrusted with some degree of confidence, to the countenance and support of the English nation;" so we learn from a preface dated Van Diemen's Land-and it certainly ought to be received with kindness and courtesy, as the first fruits of imaginative literature from the press of that colony.

-a

A tale, "founded upon incidents of real occurrence," from Van Diemen's Land, brought to our recollection the convict histories of Barrington, and the autobiography of Hardy Vaux. Quintus Servinton, however, at least the two first volumes, might have been written here or anywhere-it is compounded after the old receipt, and is very like a hundred other novels, which it has been our misfortune to read, and good fortune to have forgotten. But, towards the close of the second volume, the brewage has a smack of the "particular"sprinkling of Old Bailey. The story, by names and circumstances, recalls the fate of a Bristol merchant, whose case, at the time, excited considerable interest; and, in the third volume, the scene changes from Newgate to the Hulks, and in due process of time and law, to New South Wales. This third volume is the only one worth reading, and might have been infinitely better, had there been a spice more of human infirmity, either in Newgate, the Hulks, the Transport, or in the Colony: but really we, who have not had the advantages of such society, nauseate a little at so much unadulterate virtue --it wants the seasoning of vice and error. We shall extract a short scene from on board the Hulks:

"He descended the steps leading to his quarters, with tolerable cheerfulness: and was speedily introduced to the unfortunate soldier officer-as he had been called, and who was now to be his companion. It was certainly a relief to him to find upon entering the apartment, which was one of several, formed by divisions of the lower decks of an old seventy-four, that by the style of its principal inmates, manner and address, he was a gentleman; and Quintus, adapting himself to his circumstances with the best grace he could assume, they were soon engaged in general conversation, with as much life and energy, particularly on the part of the ci-devant officer, as if they had known one another for years, and had now re-met in a state of mutual prosperity.

"It was not long until Quintus discovered that, strict as were the rules and regulations of this den of misery, they were capable of being evaded; and that, notwithstanding the restraints that were imposed with the view of making it really a place of punishment, such of its experienced inmates as had the command of money, and who chose to pay the price at which connivance might be purchased, were enabled to introduce various luxuries that were positively forbidden by the authorities. Mr. Spendall presently alluded to the subject, by feeling his companion's pulse, as to his inclination for a bottle of wine; to which Quintus replied, ‘I like it well enough at proper times and seasons, but

haven't served three campaigns in North America for nothing-every dog has his price, and I'll soon show you how I manage things.' "With this he gave three raps upon the wooden partition, that divided the apartment where they were sitting from the one adjoining, and, in the course of a few minutes, one of the guards entered; a man whose duty it was to search all persons at their ingress and egress, to and from the hulk, and generally to watch the prisoners. Shutting the door with caution, and looking around him, he made a sort of half bow, and said, Well, my noble tain, what's your pleasure?'

66 4

cap

Why, you imp of the Devil you, don't you know we have a new chum, a gentleman, a man of birth and education, eh, you rascal! and can you ask what my pleasure is? Presto, hie, begone! and let's have something fit to put before a gentleman.'

"The guard looked significantly, and answered, But I say, captain, is he real thoroughbred? Does he know how to treat gentlemen when they run risks for each other? Waur hawks among partridges! I know you, captain, but I don't know him.'

"Get thee gone, thou prate-a-pace, and do as thou art bid. Have I lived so long, ate with gentlemen, drank with gentlemen, fought with gentlemen, cursed, swore, and gamed with gentlemen, and do I not know a gentleman by instinct? Begone, and take me for thy surety that 'tis all as it should be.'

"The man retired with a grin upon his countenance, and saying in an under tone, but which did not altogether escape Quintus, 'Aye, and haven't you cheated gentlemen-and will you not pluck this pigeon too, if you are able?' And, in about a quarter of an hour returned, bearing a small basket, from which he took a cold fowl, bread, butter, various et ceteras, and two bottles of wine, for which he was paid by Mr. Spendall one guinea and a half.

"If you want a drop of something comfortable by and by, for a night-cap,' the fellow said, as he pocketed the money, I can serve you-but I say, my new friend,' addressing Quintus, mum's the word, or else look out for squalls.'" iii. 60–66.

as if a double hunt were heard at once," till the critics must have noticed him; and the wit,

brilliancy, satire, and interest of the Algerines' would have been so blazoned and placarded, that the said critics must have treated him with respect and deference, lest they should seem to contradict the universal judgment. As it is, we must report that the Algerines' is a novel of the old school, with Turks and Italians, priests and bandits, sonorous names and melo

dramatic scoundrels; but as an old actor is often welcome, out of respect to age and our early recollections, so had we rather read another such novel than another Opera.

WAVERLEY NOVELS.-VOL. XXXIII. St. Ronan's Well. 1832. Edinburgh, Cadell; London, Whittaker.

THIS new volume has prefixed to it, Mr. Watson Gordon's admirable portrait of Sir Walter -a treasure in itself, and worth more than the cost of the work. The Vignette also, by Leslie, deserves a good word, as full of character. The introductory chapter, though pleasant, as all writings must be, which develope the mind and feeling of such a man as Scott, hardly admits of extract, and there are but few notes-one, however, on the Building-feus in Scotland, is illustrative of Scotch laws and customs, and worth transferring here :

"In Scotland a village is erected upon a species of landright, very different from the copyhold so frequent in England. Every alienation or sale of landed property must be made in the shape of a feudal conveyance, and the party who acquires it holds thereby an absolute and perfect right of property in the fief, while he discharges the stipulations of the vassal, and, above all, pays the feu-duties. The vassal or tenant of the site of the smallest cottage holds his possession as absolutely as the proprietor, of whose large estate it is perhaps scarce a perceptible portion. By dint of excellent laws, the sasines, or deeds of delivery of such fiefs, are placed on record in such order, that every burden affecting the property can be seen for payment of a very moderate fee; so that a person proposing to lend money upon it, knows exactly the nature and extent of his security.

"From the nature of these landrights being so explicit and secure, the Scottish people have been led to entertain a jealousy of buildingleases, of however long duration. Not long ago, a great landed proprietor took the latter mode of disposing of some ground near a thriving town in the west country. The number of years in the lease was settled at nine hundred and ninety-nine. All was agreed to, and the deeds were ordered to be drawn. But the tenant, as he walked down the avenue, began to reflect that the lease, though so very long as to be almost perpetual, nevertheless had a termination; and that after the lapse of a thousand years, lacking one, the connexion of his family and representatives with the estate would cease. He took a qualm at the thought of the loss to be sustained by his posterity a thousand years hence; and going back to the house of the gentleman who feued the ground, he demanded, and readily obtained, the additional term of fifty years to be added to the lease." p. 24.

MEDICAL WORKS.

The Cyclopædia of Practical Medicine. Part I. Edited by John Forbes, M.D., Alexander Tweedie, M.D., and John Connolly, M.D. London, 1831. Sherwood & Co.

A work like this has been long wanting. The French, besides 'Le Dictionnaire des Sciences Médicales,' in sixty volumes, have a compendium of it in fifteen, another dictionary in twenty-one, and they are now: publishing one of Practical Medicine. It was certainly time that something should be done in this way in England, and this first Part does honour to the profession; it conteins some articles, among others we would instance the first, which could hardly be improved. As the Introduction is not published, we know nothing of the plan which the editors intend to follow; and must therefore remark, considering this first Part as a speci

men, that if in the French dictionaries there are some superfluous articles, there will be, we fear, in the English some wanting, and that the length appears to have no relation to the comparative importance of the subjects, particularly in the Materia Medica, the few articles on which are much inferior to the rest. If we are correct,

this error should be guarded against immediately. The work however was so much wanted, that, instead of urging our objections further, we shall recommend it as deserving extensive patronage.

The Principles and Practice of Obstetric Medicine. By David D. Davis, M.D., Professor of Midwifery in the University of London. Parts 1. & II. London, 1832. Taylor. FEW were so competent as Dr. Davis to undertake a work of this nature; he has been long known as an excellent teacher in extensive practice, and his experience cannot fail to add much to our knowledge of this branch of medical science. These first parts are necessarily occupied by anatomical descriptions, which are clear, concise, and accurate, and the accompanying lithographic plates are very excellent.

A Series of Experiments performed for the Purpose of showing that Aarteries may be obliterated without Ligature, Compression, or the Knife. By Benjamin Phillips. London, 1832. Longman & Co.

THIS pamphlet contains a series of experiments to prove that aneurisms can be cured without the use of the knife. When we consider the dangerous nature of the disease, and how painful and uncertain is the operation necessary for its removal, we cannot but recommend Mr. Phillips's pamphlet to the attentive consideration of our eminent surgeons, and express an anxious hope that the author will repeat his experiments, and by confirming his opinions justify a claim to the high honour of so important a discovery.

An Inquiry into the Medical Properties of Iodine partly translated from the Latin of Schroeder Van Der Kolk. By C. J. B. Aldis. London, 1832. Published by the Author.

Punch and Judy. Illustrated by George Cruikshank. 3rd edition. London, 1832. Reid. A third edition of this popular exhibition requires no comment on the part of the critic: his lucubrations are rendered yet more unnecessary, by the lore mustered in the preface, by the author of the Decameron.' The sketches, by Cruikshank, are as amusing and life-like as possible and, with the dialogue, make this Don Juan in wood, this puppet Falstaff, Mr. Punch, very laughable, if not very edifying.

The Etymological Spelling-book and Expositor. By Henry Butler, Author of Gradations in Reading and Spelling,' &c. 4th Edition. London, Simpkin & Marshall.

Gradations in Reading and Spelling. By H. Butler. 4th Edition. London, Whittaker, Treacher & Co.

THE acquisition of any language is much facilitated by a knowledge of the etymon of its words; but whether this facility can be taught a child, having a very imperfect knowledge of its mother tongue; and whether Mr. Butler pursues the most eligible plan, we think very questionable. The first two parts of the Spelling-book are, no doubt, improvements upon many of the old primers; but of the third, the Etymological part, we are much mistaken if it be not entirely out of place. Should it be

| learned, an air of pedantry, an unmeaning show of scholarship, will be imparted to the child, by constant reference to a language, with the very characters of which he is unacquainted. Let grammar in all its branches be pursued; but let our elementary schools be preserved from etymological pretence.-To Mr. Butler's 'Gradations' we can give, and are happy in doing so, our unqualified approbation.

ORIGINAL PAPERS

DIRGE FOR A DEAD PAINTER.

A Tribute to the Memory of the late Henry Liverseege.

BY MISS JEWSBURY.

DEATH, grim death, when shall we see
This broad earth no more thy city?
GRAVE, deep grave, when shall it be

Thou wilt close thy lips in pity?
When shall love's subduing prayer,
When shall genius, yet more rare,
Mind and worth in blended beauty,
Woo ye from your cold stern duty?

When shall sweetness win back one?
Never, never-he is gone!

Yet, swift hunter, couldst not give

Summons ere the hart was stricken?

Grave, that on death's prey dost live,
Could thy hungry silence quicken
Into no foreboding knell
Ere the unconscious victim fell?
Could ye not give leave to plight
Farewell, ere his day grew night?
Might not sorrow's need have one?
Ye were ruthless! He is gone!
Yesterday, scarce yesterday,

Bright dreams through his brain were flowing, And his hand with cunning play

To the world those dreams was showing.
Yesterday and in his eye
Fame had writ her prophecy;
Now in dark and mute eclipse;
Sealed it on his flexile lips,
Could not genius save her son?
Wherefore question? He is gone!
Speak not of his fragile form,

And his often painful pillow-
What may longer bide the storm
Than the delicate drooping willow?
He was loved, and love can do
Feats physicians never knew,
With its boundlessness of care,
Mighty hope, and fervent prayer:
Hush, O hush-love's power is none-
It is weeping! He is gone!
Dust to dust; now, dust to dust,

And we leave his dwelling lowly;
Not another sigh we must,

If it be not meek and holy;
Whose the arm that smote him down?
Whose the band took off his crown?-
God, alone omnipotent,
Calling back what he had lent-
Come then, friends, and be each one,
Better christians now he's gone!

A BRIEF HISTORICAL NOTICE OF THE POSITION OF WOMEN IN SOCIETY, INTRODUCTORY TO A PAPER

ON MODERN FEMALE CULTIVATION.' THE various modes in which women have

been treated, from the days of the Patriarchs to those of the Paladins, and from the days of the Paladins to these of the critics, is a subject of research at once. curious, mournful, and amusing. Memorials of distinguished individuals afford but a fragmentary basis for speculation; but the history of the sex is the history of civilization. Lunar influences are

not more immediately connected with the ebb and flow of the tide, than the rational estimate and education of women marks national progress or deterioration; not in the arts, nor yet in manners,-but in the emancipation of the understanding from prejudice, in the recognition of principles, and in the desire to ameliorate the human condition.

Hitherto, civilization has been estimated rather by the diffusion of luxury, than by the progress of truth;-by those works of imagination, which gild history with brilliant names, which embellish galleries with pictures and statues, and delight the fancy with gay and gorgeous visions, rather than by those sober triumphs of reason and right feeling, which increase the comforts of many, if their trophies render few immortal. For this reason, almost all history is a work of imagination: the events dispose themselves into striking pictures, the leading characters fill the foreground; the painter becomes a partisan, so does the spectator; our sympathies are riveted on the few; the background is in shadow, and that shadow covers the multitude.

If the quantity of national comfort were made the simple test of civilization, and not the splendour of a court or the perfection of the arts, nearly all the history we have must be taken to pieces; Greece with her literary glories, Rome with her conquests from the rising to the setting sun, even Egypt with her temples, like the dreams of Titans, must resign a large proportion of their fame. But if the treatment of women, another and yet closely-connected test, were instituted, Egypt would have to resign less than any other nation of antiquity,―as, with every drawback, England would have to resign less

now.

The Spartan women were brutalized by the very laws; and if this be attributed to the savage state of the men, Athens, in her palmiest state of literature and the arts, condemned the female citizens to ignorance, confinement and obscurity. Cultivation was a luxury only to be obtained by the loss of character: a courtesan might be buried amongst heroes, and have her statue placed beside those of the gods; but the virtuous wives and mothers of those heroes were kept to the distaff and the spindle. The Romans, though abundantly austere, treated women better than the more imaginative Greeks: if a less refined, they were a more rational people; they had a higher notion of female worth, had less petty jealousy, and nobly recognized the services of their matrons whenever rendered. In the East, however, where now women are most degraded, they were formerly treated with the most consideration. The Hebrews, as a people, were coarse and ignorant, what Moses emphatically called them, "rebellious and stiff-necked;" left to themselves, they would probably have treated females even worse than the brilliant Greeks and the austere Romans-it was their theocracy which lightened the feminine yoke, ing them to inherit property in default of gave women political consideration, by allowsons, and practically proved that souls are equal, by making them occasionally the recipients of the prophetic spirit, and instruments of divine government: at the same time, we never in the Old Testament read of any miracle being wrought by the hand of a woman. It does not appear that they were