sults our understandings, by not even giving us a resemblance of it; he does not even take the pains to give us a counterfeit. We know what such a book should be, but not from him; we know it from real trials, which one reads, when well reported, with such an interest as scarcely any other kind of reading can excite. When a legal point, having any doubtfulness about it, is discussed and elucidated by able men, and made to bear on an important issue, when we know something, too, of the parties interested in that issue, and learn to sympathise in their hopes and fears, the driest subjects become enlivened, the points of the abstrusest study are made intelligible and attractive; the mind grasps easily matters the most foreign to its habits, and masters them with a delightful exercise of power. We follow a master mind, and are pleased and surprised to find that we can follow him, through a train of logical reasoning, to a clear decision; and perhaps, after doing so once, another master will reverse the spell, undo the reasoning, and show us that the decision was a fallacy; but the interest will keep up to the last. The parties, in such a cause, will not be found, as in Mr. Warren's book, all sorted by white and black, all pure and lofty on the one side, all odious and base on the other; there will be degrees and modifications. If we rejoice in the event with those that do rejoice, we shall also weep a little with those that weep. And in the evidence, what a field of study, what a harvest of entertainment is displayed. The vast varieties, cross-lights, and illustrations of co-incidence and discrepancy in a story, the effects of cross-examination, the ingenuity of counsel, the doublings and turnings of dishonest witnesses, the occasional embarrassment of honest ones, the impracticability of the stupid—all this ought to be set forth in a story, as we see it pass before our eyes in real trials, and famous shall he be who will do it well. It would be difficult to do it very difficult, and perhaps no model of the kind, in fiction, now exists. Ten Thousand a Year is not that model; it is a thing to which we return, from our excursion in search of what might be, with an increased feeling of antipathy; tame, flat, and unprofitable. No argument, no evidence, no play or display of character; but, in place of all this, mere wordy and windy assertions, that mighty fine things were said and done, but they have all died unrecorded. Some popularity must attach to a book which has so attractive a name as Ten Thousand a Year; and very many people like this work, as we have hinted before, for qualities which are not in it, but in themselves; they furnish from their own stores by far the greater part of their entertainment. ART. VII.— Temples, Ancient and Modern; or Notes on Church Architecture. By WILLIAM BARDWELL, Architect. London: 1840. J. Fraser. 8vo. "HE that altars an old house," says Fuller, "is tied, as a translatour to the original, and is confined to the phancy of the first builders. Such a man were unwise to pluck down good old building (perchance) to erect worse new; but those that raise a new house to the ground are blameworthy if they make it not handsome, seeing, to them, method and confusion are both at a rate." We wish here to direct the attention of our readers to the lamentable disregard of propriety and good taste that shows itself so conspicuously in our rural church edifices. When, in England, the rage against Romanism was at its height, man's mind rejected all that might tend to keep alive a latent feeling for the accursed thing; and, not being competent, or at least likely to use just discrimination. in any thing pertaining to the matter, to judge between cause and effect, God's worship was conducted with a strict disregard to all that might approach, in the most remote degree, to the pomps and ceremonies that had so long usurped the place of that spiritual communion at which they were aiming. In the deep glen or the broad field, with the blue sky for an arch, England's oaks for columns-in such a temple men listened to the stirring words of those among them whose minds labored with one idea. Wherever their impulses prompted, there they worshipped; and man, and all that pertained thereto, became as nothing to them, when under the influence of these spiritual illapses. Then, some of the "timehonored Lancasters," the ancient temples, fell before the ardor of a rude soldiery-then, too, the lofty spire that points the soul to heaven-all grandeur - all beauty-the swelling organ tones, that peal forth the anthem that, in notes of -- sweetest melody, make us weep with those that weep, or rejoice the soul with their bird-like carol - all form - all order these were abominations, and were rejected as unworthy the notice of the spiritual man. We do not wonder at this; we do not regret it. It tended to rub off the rust, though in the roughest manner, that had eaten into man's soul. But this excitement passed away, and these, again, adopted a manner and habit of worship stern and forbidding in its simplicity. The tendency of these present times is not towards a blind obedience in matters of conscience; and we hail it as an earnest of better things, that man is striving to realize something of the wonder of his own nature; much error, and perhaps excess, will be the consequence; we wish to "prove all things," to "hold fast to that which is good." Religious worship exercises now, as it ever has done, a remarkable influence upon man's mind; and nothing brings the most elevated intellect, in which the might of the Eternal is ever present, into most feeble communion with it so effectually and certainly, as prayer and praise. How much more necessary, then, is some direct and tangible way of bowing down in adoration and thanksgiving, to the great mass of mankind? Will we then say, that the things which refine, elevate, and direct the religious feelings of mankind, shall be altogether disregarded? We will say, with the poet, "The groves were God's first temples." But such temples! Can man's efforts approach them in grandeur, in sublimity, or in beauty? So, too, we can say, the patriarchs dwelt in tents; each man lived as best pleased him, and governed his own family despotically. We do neither. It may be a question with some, whether, in our church structures, architectural or picturesque effect be desirable. Some may fear that the attention will be distracted from that high and holy idea of God, which, in his house, should pervade every soul; a conscientious regard for the expense attendant upon all but the plainest structure, will deter others from an exercise of taste that would characterize their individual operations. We much doubt if these be sound objections. In a new country, the absolute wants of a people walk over every other consideration, and present shelter and security are all that are sought after. But this cannot excuse the barn-like or incongruous structures that now shock the sense and taste in most of our country villages. The de scendants of the pilgrims have been and are insensibly influenced by the feeling and dread which we have mentioned. So much is this the case, that we know instances where musical instruments are admitted in great variety in church worship without a thought, when the mention of an organ will call forth an exclamation of pious horror. Added to this, the dearth of examples worthy of imitation is a source of much evil; and the almost entire want of information upon such subjects, in the persons to whom the selecting of a plan is committed, does not insure much beauty or propriety. These call in the aid of some carpenter, who, with a small glimmering of architectural light, heaps together a mass of columns and cusps, which to the eye of the initiated, or the man of taste, is sometimes irresistibly ludicrous. Architecture now numbers among its professors with us, some who possess not only artistical skill, but taste and elevation of character; to these, in all cases, should the design be submitted. We may then hope to see springing up in our rich valleys and quiet nooks, temples where the poetry in man's heart may kindle itself- houses worthy of the religion we profess. For more than a century had the old wooden church stood, when we first learned to lisp a prayer; in the midst of a grove, surrounded by the grey slabs that told of death, its massive beams, dark only with the tints of time, supported the roof that protected from the pitiless storms the heads of youth and age; birth, marriage and death, had here been commemorated, for generation after generation; from those clear heads and strong arms that first gave God thanks in the forest, fighting against the Indian, through all the changes for good and for ill in their posterity (our progenitors) it had stood; the spirits of the just made perfect here went up as incense, and the tears of the humble and repentant sinner were wiped away; word came here from the wanderer, and prayer or thanksgiving rose for him who, absent in body, was present in spirit. All these lent an indefinable charm to the place. Say what you will, we respect not the man who does not feel the influence of such a place. The evidences of humanity (these as well as others) which man leaves behind, are a bond and sentiment between him and the living man; nor should such be rashly severed. But time walks on, and necessity has now raised up in another spot a better and more enduring structure. But, saddest thing of all, not content with demolishing the building so long held holy and sa cred, these trees that had stretched their arms over it, these silent guards around the temple-these softened shades under which the school-boy had played, and the man fled from the warm greeting of the summer sun-these too were cut to the ground!! The necessity for placing the church in the centre of the settlement no longer exists; great latitude is therefore allowable in the choice of a situation, and in this way advantage may be taken of a grove, or a vista, that will add a charm or a beauty to the whole. We cannot enough insist upon the importance of this. Secluded as it were from the touch of selfishness and vice, the light softened by the cool shades that give a tone of quiet and seclusion to the spot, the soul is certainly more disposed to relax the strained and care-worn. habit of a too selfish every-day existence, and breathe forth in the chant or prayer. Understand not that we would give you the idea that these feelings should influence you at no other time. Is not the grass refreshed by the nightly dews, and mind and body by the sweet influences of sleep? So, too, the Sabbath was made for man. Shall we do away with all sentiment in this matter, and reducing every thing to this ultra-utilitarian standard, ask the smith to mould us beautiful forms from the cold and unyielding iron, that lies dull and dark at his feet? Every where we endeavor to keep alive the feeling for the beautiful and good, in man, who strives in cities, or toils ceaseless on the plain; and shall it be totally disregarded here? 66 Some one style of architecture should be strictly observed in these rural edifices. There is now less danger that this should be violated in cities than heretofore, as the buildings in progress bear witness; but to any one who has paid attention to the subject, the singular mixture of the Grecian and pointed styles must at first excite laughter, and then regret. Unity and fitness," as the artists would say, are the chief points; and when combined with a perception of the picturesque or beautiful, the result will be pleasing even to the uncultivated man, and will give to these churches a higher and more intellectual character than they now possess. Looking upon some, perhaps most, of our country churches, and some in cities, we see all the orders of Grecian architecture somewhere showing themselves; the white wooden columns contrasting violently with the red brick of the walls, and the whole surmounted with the Gothic spire. Here, certainly, |