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author to add three additional volumes to it in the following year, but the continuation is greatly inferior.

[A Prudent Sea Captain-Abuse of Ship Stores.]

[From The King's Own."]

'Well, Mr Cheeks, what are the carpenters about?' Weston and Smallbridge are going on with the chairs-the whole of them will be finished to-morrow.' 'Well?'

'Smith is about the chest of drawers, to match the one in my Lady Capperbar's bed-room.'

'Very good. And what is Hilton about?'

He has finished the spare-leaf of the dining-table, sir; he is now about a little job for the second-lieu

tenant.'

A job for the second lieutenant, sir! How often have I told you, Mr Cheeks, that the carpenters are not to be employed, except on ship's duty, without my special permission.'

His standing bed-place is broke, sir; he is only

getting out a chock or two.'

Mr Cheeks, you have disobeyed my most positive orders. By the by, sir, I understand you were not sober last night?

Please your honour,' replied the carpenter, I wasn't drunk-I was only a little fresh.'

"Take you care, Mr Cheeks. Well, now, what are the rest of your crew about?'

Why, Thomson and Waters are cutting out the pales for the garden out of the jibboom; I've saved the heel to return.'

'Very well; but there wont be enough, will there?" 'No, sir; it will take a hand-mast to finish the

whole.'

Then we must expend one when we go out again. We can carry away a top-mast, and make a new one out of the hand-mast at sea. In the meantime, if the sawyers have nothing to do, they may as well cut the palings at once. And now, let me see-oh, the painters must go on shore to finish the attics.'

'Yes, sir; but my Lady Capperbar wishes the jealowsees to be painted vermilion; she says it will look

more rural.'

'Mrs Capperbar ought to know enough about ship's stores by this time to be aware that we are only allowed three colours. She may choose or mix them as she pleases; but as for going to the expense of buying paint, I can't afford it. What are the rest of the men about?'

'Repairing the second cutter, and making a new mast for the pinnace.'

'By the by-that puts me in mind of it-have you expended any boat's masts?'

Only the one carried away, sir.' 'Then you must expend two more. Mrs C has just sent me off a list of a few things that she wishes made while we are at anchor, and I see two poles for clothes-lines. Saw off the sheave-holes, and put two pegs through at right angles-you know how I mean?' Yes, sir. What am I to do, sir, about the cucumber frame? My Lady Capperbar says that she must have it, and I haven't glass enough. They grumbled at the yard last time.'

Mrs C must wait a little. What are the armourers about?'

"They have been so busy with your work, sir, that the arms are in a very bad condition. The first-lieutenant said yesterday that they were a disgrace to the ship.' 'Who dares say that?'

'The first-lieutenant, sir."

'Well, then, let them rub up the arms, and let me know when they are done, and we'll get the forge up.' 'The armourer has made six rakes and six hoes,

and the two little hoes for the children; but he says that he can't make a spade.'

'Then I'll take his warrant away, by heavens, since he does not know his duty. That will do, Mr Cheeks. I shall overlook your being in liquor this time; but take care. Send the boatswain to me.'

A few other authors have, like Captain Marryat, and adventures. presented us with good pictures of maritime life The Naval Sketch-Book, 1828; Sailors and Saints, 1829; Tales of a Tar, 1830; Land Sharks and Sea Gulls, 1838; and other works, by CAPTAIN GLASSCOCK, R. N., are all genuine tales of the sea, and display a hearty comic humour and rich phraseology, with as cordial a contempt for Bound, or a Merchant's Adventures, by MR HOWARD, regularity of plot! Rattlin the Reefer, and Outward are better managed as to fable (particularly Outhave not the same breadth of humour as Captain ward Bound,' which is a well-constructed tale), but Brace, by CAPTAIN CHAMIER, are excellent works Glasscock's novels. The Life of a Sailor, and Ben and humour. Tom Cringle's Log, by MICHAEL SCOTT, of the same class, replete with nature, observation, and The Cruise of the Midge (both originally published in Blackwood's Magazine), are also veritable productions of the sea-a little coarse, but spirited, and showing us things as they are.' Mr Scott, who was a native of Glasgow, spent a considerable part of his life in a mercantile situation at Kingston in Jamaica. He died in his native city, in 1835, aged about forty-six.

MRS GORE.

and fashionable novels. Her first work (published This lady is a clever and prolific writer of tales anonymously) was, we believe, a small volume containing two tales, The Lettre de Cachet, and The Reign of Terror, 1827. One of these relates to the times of Louis XIV., and the other to the French

Revolution.

They are both interesting graceful tales-superior, we think, to some of the more elaborate and extensive fictions of the authoress. In 1830 appeared Women as they Are, or the Manners of the Day, three volumes-an easy sparkling narrative, with correct pictures of modern societymuch lady-like writing on dress and fashion, and some rather misplaced derision or contempt for This excellent wives' and good sort of men.' novel soon went through a second edition, and Mrs Gore continued the same style of fashionable portraiture. In 1831 she issued Mothers and Daughters, a Tale of the Year 1830. Here the manners of gay life-balls, dinners, and fêtes-with clever sketches of character, and amusing dialogues, make up the customary three volumes. The same year we find Mrs Gore compiling a series of narratives for youth, entitled The Historical Traveller. In 1832 she came forward with The Fair of May Fair, a series of fashionable tales, that were not so well received. The critics hinted that Mrs Gore had exhausted her stock of observation, and we believe she went to reside in France, where she continued some years. Her next tale was entitled Mrs Armytage. In 1838 she published The Book of Roses, or Rose-Fancier's Manual, a delightful little work on the history of the rose, its propagation and culture. France is celebrated for its rich varieties of the queen of flowers, and Mrs Gore availed herself of the taste and experience of the French floriculturists. A few months afterwards came out The Heir of Sehwood, or Three Epochs of a Life, a novel in which were exhibited sketches of Parisian as well as English society, and an interesting though somewhat confused plot. The year 1839 witnessed three more works of fiction

and she regarded it as a propitious dispensation of Providence to her parents and to herself, that the comparative proved a superlative-even a high sheriff of the county, a baronet of respectable date, with ten thousand a-year! She felt that her duty towards herself necessitated an immediate acceptance of the dullest 'good sort of man' extant throughout the three kingdoms; and the whole routine of her afterlife was regulated by the same rigid code of moral selfishness. She was penetrated with a most exact sense of what was due to her position in the world; but she was equally precise in her appreciation of| all that, in her turn, she owed to society; nor, from her youth upwards

Content to dwell in decencies for ever

had she been detected in the slightest infraction of these minor social duties. She knew with the utmost

from this indefatigable lady, The Cabinet Minister, the scene of which is laid during the regency of George IV., and includes among its characters the great name of Sheridan; Preferment, or My Uncle the Earl, containing some good sketches of drawingroom society, but no plot; and The Courtier of the Days of Charles II., and other Tales. Next year we have The Dowager, or the New School for Scandal; and in 1841 Greville, or a Season in Paris; Dacre of the South, or the Olden Time (a drama); and The Lover and her Husband, &c. the latter a free translation of M. Bertrand's Gerfaut. In 1842 Mrs Gore published The Banker's Wife, or Court and City, in which the efforts of a family in the middle rank to outshine a nobleman, and the consequences resulting from this silly vanity and ambition, are truly and powerfully painted. The value of Mrs Gore's novels consists in their lively caustic pictures of fashionable and high society. The more respect-accuracy of domestic arithmetic-to the fraction of a able of her personages are affecters of an excessive prudery concerning the decencies of life-nay, occasionally of an exalted and mystical religious feeling. The business of their existence is to avoid the slightest breach of conventional decorum. Whatever, therefore, they do, is a fair and absolute measure of the prevailing opinions of the class, and may be regarded as not derogatory to their position in the eyes of their equals. But the low average standard of morality thus depicted, with its conventional distinctions, cannot be invented. It forms the atmosphere in which the parties live; and were it a compound, fabricated at the author's pleasure, the beings who breathe it could not but be universally acknowledged as fantastical and as mere monstrosities; they would indeed be incapable of acting in harmony and consistence with the known laws and usages of civil life. Such as a series of parliamentary reports, county meetings, race-horse transactions, &c. they will be found, with a reasonable allowance of artistic colouring, to reflect accurately enough the notions current among the upper classes respecting religion, politics, domestic morals, the social affections, and that coarse aggregate of dealing with our neighbours which is embraced by the term common honesty."* Besides the works we have mentioned, Mrs Gore has published The Desennuyée, The Peeress, The Woman of the World, The-was naturally superior to seeking its pleasures in Woman of Business, The Ambassador's Wife, and other novels. She contributes tales to the periodicals, and is perhaps unparalleled for fertility. Her works are all of the same class-all pictures of existing life and manners; but the want of genuine feeling, of passion, and simplicity, in her living models, and the endless frivolities of their occupations and pursuits, make us sometimes take leave of Mrs Gore's fashionable triflers in the temper with which Goldsmith parted from Beau Tibbs-The company of fools may at first make us smile, but at last never fails of rendering us melancholy.'

[Character of a Prudent Worldly Lady.]

[From Women as they Are."]

Lady Lilfield was a thoroughly worldly woman-a worthy scion of the Mordaunt stock. She had professedly accepted the hand of Sir Robert because a connexion with him was the best that happened to present itself in the first year of her début the best match' to be had at a season's warning! She knew that she had been brought out with the view to dancing at a certain number of balls, refusing a certain number of good offers, and accepting a better one, somewhere between the months of January and June;

*Athenæum, 1839.

course or an entrée-the number of dinners which
Beech Park was indebted to its neighbourhood-the
complement of laundry-maids indispensable to the
maintenance of its county dignity-the aggregate of
pines by which it must retain its horticultural pre-
cedence. She had never retarded by a day or an ||
hour the arrival of the family-coach in Grosvenor
Square at the exact moment creditable to Sir Robert's
senatorial punctuality; nor procrastinated by half a
second the simultaneous bobs of her ostentatious
Sunday school, as she sailed majestically along the
aisle towards her tall, stately, pharisaical, squire-
archical pew. True to the execution of her tasks-
and her whole life was but one laborious task-true
and exact as the great bell of the Beech Park turret-
clock, she was enchanted with the monotonous music
of her own cold iron tongue; proclaiming herself the
best of wives and mothers, because Sir Robert's rent-
roll could afford to command the services of a first-
rate steward, and butler, and housekeeper, and thus
insure a well-ordered household; and because her
seven substantial children were duly drilled through
a daily portion of rice-pudding and spelling-book, and
an annual distribution of mumps and measles! All
went well at Beech Park; for Lady Lilfield was 'the
excellent wife' of a good sort of man!'

So bright an example of domestic merit-and what country neighbourhood cannot boast of its duplicate!

the vapid and varying novelties of modern fashion.
The habits of Beech Park still affected the dignified
and primeval purity of the departed century. Lady
Lilfield remained true to her annual eight rural
months of the county of Durham; against whose
claims Kemp town pleaded, and Spa and Baden
bubbled in vain. During her pastoral seclusion, by
a careful distribution of her stores of gossiping, she
contrived to prose, in undetected tautology, to suc
cessive detachments of an extensive neighbourhood,
concerning her London importance-her court dress
-her dinner parties-and her refusal to visit the
Duchess of -; while, during the reign of her
London importance, she made it equally her duty to
bore her select visiting list with the history of the
new Beech Park school-house-of the Beech Park
double dahlias-and of the Beech Park privilege of
heads of the rival political factions-the Bianchi
uniting, in an aristocratic dinner party, the abhorrent
Neri-the houses of Montague and Capulet of the
county palatine of Durham. By such minute sections
of the wide chapter of colloquial boredom, Lady
Lilfield acquired the character of being a very charm-
ing woman throughout her respectable clan of dinner-
giving baronets and their wives; but the reputation |
of a very miracle of prosiness among those

Men of the world, who know the world like men.
She was but a weed in the nobler field of society.

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Among the other female novelists may be mentioned MISS LANDON (Mrs Maclean), authoress of Francesca Carrara, and Ethel Churchill-the latter a powerful and varied English story: MISS ELLEN PICKERING, whose novels-Who shall be Heir, The Secret Foe, and Sir Michael Paulet, 1841-42-evince great spirit and liveliness in sketching scenes and characters.

In humorous delineation of town and country manners and follies, the sketches entitled Little Pedlington and the Pedlingtonians, by MR JOHN POOLE, two volumes, 1839, are a fund of lively satire and amusement. The Ingoldsby Legends, or Mirth and Marvels, by MR THOMAS INGOLDSBY, 1840; and My Cousin Nicholas, by the same author, 1841, are marked by a similar comic breadth of humour. MR DOUGLAS JERROLD, author of Men of Character, three volumes, 1838, has written several amusing papers in the same style as the above, but has been more successful in writing light pieces for the stage. Mr Jerrold now edits a periodical-the Illuminated Magazine. MR W. M. THACKERAY has published (under the Cockney name of Michael Angelo Titmarsh') various graphic and entertaining works-The Paris Sketch-Book, 1840; Comic Tales and Sketches, 1841; and The Irish Sketch-Book, 1842. The latter is the most valuable; for Titmarsh is a quick observer, and original in style and description.

MISS HARRIET MARTINEAU.

MISS HARRIET MARTINEAU, an extensive miscellaneous writer, published in 1832 and 1833 a series of Illustrations of Political Economy, in the shape of tales or novels. One story represents the advantages of the division and economy of labour, another the utility of capital and machinery, and others relate to rent, population, &c. These tales contain many clever and striking descriptions, and evince much knowledge of human character. In 1837 Miss Martineau published the results of a visit to America, and a careful inspection of its institutions and national manners, under the title of Society in America. This she subsequently followed up by a Retrospect of Western Travel. Her first regular novel appeared in 1839, and was entitled Deerbrook. Though improbable in many of its incidents, this work abounds in eloquent and striking passages. The democratic opinions of the authoress (for in all

but her anti-Malthusian doctrines Miss Martineau is a sort of female Godwin) are strikingly brought forward, and the characters are well drawn. Deerbrook' is a story of English domestic life. The next effort of Miss Martineau was in the historical romance. The Hour and the Man, 1840, is a novel or romance founded on the history of the brave Toussaint L'Ouverture, and with this man as hero, Miss Martineau exhibits as the hour of action the period when the slaves of St Domingo threw off the yoke of slavery. There is much passionate as well as graceful writing in this tale; its greatest defect is, that there is too much disquisition, and too little connected or regular fable. Among the other works of Miss Martineau are several for children, as The Peasant and the Prince, The Settlers at Home, How to Observe, &c. Her latest work, Life in the Sick-Room, or Essays by an Invalid, 1844, contains many interesting and pleasing sketches, full of acute and delicate thought and elegant description.

The following notice of our authoress appears in a recent publication, A New Spirit of the Age: 'Harriet Martineau was born in the year 1802, one of the youngest among a family of eight children. Her father was a proprietor of one of the manufactories in Norwich, in which place his family, origi

nally of French origin, had resided since the revocation of the edict of Nantes. She has herself ascribed her taste for literary pursuits to the extreme delicacy of her health in childhood; to the infirmity (deafness) with which she has been afflicted ever since, which, without being so complete as to deprive her absolutely of all intercourse with the world, yet obliged her to seek occupations and pleasures within herself; and to the affection which subsisted between her and the brother nearest her own age, the Rev. James Martineau, whose fine mind and talents are well known. The occupation of writing, first begun to gratify her own taste and inclination, became afterwards to her a source of honourable independence, when, by one of the disasters so common in trade, her family became involved in misfortunes. She was then enabled to reverse the common lot of unmarried daughters in such circumstances, and cease to be in any respect a burden. She realised an income sufficient for her simple habits, but still so small as to enhance the integrity of the sacrifice which she made to principle in refusing the pension offered to her by government in 1840. Her motive for refusing it was that she considered herself in the light of a political writer, and that the offer did not proceed from the people, but from the government, which did not represent the people.'

[Effects of Love and Happiness on the Mind.] [From Deerbrook."]

There needs no other proof that happiness is the most wholesome moral atmosphere, and that in which the immortality of man is destined ultimately to thrive, than the elevation of soul, the religious aspiration, which attends the first assurance, the first sober ligious aspiration amidst all warmth of virtuous affeccertainty of true love. tions. There is a vivid love of God in the child that lays its cheek against the cheek of its mother, and clasps its arms about her neck. God is thanked (perhaps unconsciously) for the brightness of his earth, on long been parted, pour out their heart-stores to each summer evenings, when a brother and sister, who have other, and feel their course of thought brightening as

There is much of this re

it runs.

his children have won, or looks round upon their inWhen the aged parent hears of the honours reverts to Him who in them prescribed the purpose nocent faces as the glory of his decline, his mind of his life, and bestowed its grace. But religious as is the mood of every good affection, none is so devotional as that of love, especially so called. The soul is then the very temple of adoration, of faith, of holy purity, of heroism, of charity. At such a moment the human creature shoots up into the angel; there is nothing on earth too defiled for its charity-nothing in hell too appalling for its heroism-nothing in heaven too glorious for its sympathy. Strengthened, sustained, vivified by that most mysterious power, union with another spirit, it feels itself set well forth on the way of victory over evil, sent out conquering and to conquer. There is no other such crisis in human life. The philosopher may experience uncontrollable agitation in verifying his principle of balancing systems of worlds, feeling, perhaps, as if he actually saw the creative hand in the act of sending the planets forth on their everlasting way; but this philosopher, solitary seraph as he may be regarded amidst a myriad of men, knows at such a moment no emotions so divine as those of the spirit becoming conscious that it is beloved-be it the peasant girl in the meadow, or the daughter of the sage réposing in her father's confidence, or the artisan beside his loom, or the man of letters musing by his fireside. The warrior about to strike the decisive blow for the liberties of a nation, however impressed with the

82

solemnity of the hour, is not in a state of such lofty resolution as those who, by joining hearts, are laying their joint hands on the whole wide realm of futurity for their own. The statesman who, in the moment of success, feels that an entire class of social sins and woes is annihilated by his hand, is not conscious of so holy and so intimate a thankfulness as they who are aware that their redemption is come in the presence of a new and sovereign affection. And these are many-they are in all corners of every land. The statesman is the leader of a nation, the warrior is the grace of an age, the philosopher is the birth of a thousand years; but the lover, where is he not? Wherever parents look round upon their children, there he has been-wherever children are at play together, there he will soon be-wherever there are roofs under which men dwell, wherever there is an atmosphere vibrating with human voices, there is the lover, and there is his lofty worship going on, unspeakable, but revealed in the brightness of the eye, the majesty of the presence, and the high temper of

the discourse.

THOMAS MILLER.

Mr

THOMAS MILLER is one of the humble, happy, industrious self-taught sons of genius. He was brought up to the trade of a basketmaker, and while thus obscurely labouring to consort with the muse and support a family,' he attracted attention, first by his poetical effusions, and subsequently by a series of prose narratives and fictions remarkable for the freshness of their descriptions of rural life and English scenery. Through the kindness of Mr Rogers, our author was placed in the more congenial situation of a bookseller, and has had the gratification of publishing and selling his own works. Miller's first prose composition was, we believe, 4 Day in the Woods, which was followed (1839) by Rural Sketches, both being somewhat in the style of Bloomfield's poetry-simple, picturesque, and cheerful in tone and spirit. His first novel was Royston Gower, 1838, which experienced such a reception as to induce the author to continue novel-writing. His second attempt was hazardous, from the associations it awakened, and the difficulty of painting historical characters of a distant age; it was entitled Fair Rosamond, or the Days of King Henry II. There was an evident improvement in the author's style, but the work, as a whole, was unsatisfactory and tedious. In 1840 he plunged again into a remote era of English history, requiring minute knowledge and practised skill to delineate with effect: his Lady Jane Grey, a Historical Romance, is defective in plot, but contains some interesting scenes and characters. There is,' says one of Miller's critics, a picturesqueness in the arrangement and colouring of his scenes-an occasional glimpse, now of pathos, now of humour, quaint and popular, but never vulgar-an ease in the use and combination of such few historical materials as suffice for his purpose, which put to shame the efforts of many who have been crammed in schools and lectured in colleges-and afford another evidence that creative power is like the air and the sunshine-visiting alike the cottage and the mansion, the basketmaker's shop and the literary gentleman's sanctum.' Miller's next appearance, in 1841, evinced still more decided improvement: Gideon Giles, the Roper, is a tale of English life, generally of humble characters, but rendered interesting by truthful and vigorous delineation. In 1842 Mr Miller came forward with another novelGodfrey Malverin, or the Life of an Author, detailing the adventures and vicissitudes of a country youth who repairs to London in quest of literary fame and ❘

fortune. Some of the incidents in this work are exaggerated, yet the lives of Gerald Griffin, Dr Maginn, and other literary adventurers, contained almost as strange and sad varieties, and the author's own experience doubtless prompted some of his delineations. About the same time Mr Miller published a volume of poems-a collection of pieces contributed to different periodicals, and, like his prose works, simple and natural in feeling and description. One of these really beautiful effusions we subjoin:

The Happy Valley.

It was a valley filled with sweetest sounds,
A languid music haunted everywhere,
Like those with which a summer eve abounds,
From rustling corn and song-birds calling clear,
Down sloping-uplands, which some wood surrounds,
With tinkling rills just heard, but not too near;
Or lowing cattle on the distant plain,
And swing of far-off bells, now caught, then lost again.
It seemed like Eden's angel-peopled vale,

So bright the sky, so soft the streams did flow;
Such tones came riding on the musk-winged gale,
The very air seemed sleepily to blow,
And choicest flowers enameled every dale,

Flushed with the richest sunlight's rosy glow;
It was a valley drowsy with delight,
Such fragrance floated round, such beauty dimmed the
sight.

The golden-belted bees hummed in the air,
The trees slept in the steeping sunbeam's glare,
The tall silk grasses bent and waved along;
And took its own free course without a care:
The dreamy river chimed its under-song,

Amid the boughs did lute-tongued songsters throng,
Until the valley throbbed beneath their lays,
And echo echo chased through many a leafy maze.
And shapes were there, like spirits of the flowers,
Sent down to see the summer-beauties dress,
And feed their fragrant mouths with silver showers;
Their eyes peeped out from many a green recess,
And their fair forms made light the thick-set bowers;
The very flowers seemed eager to caress
Such living sisters, and the boughs, long-leaved,
Clustered to catch the sighs their pearl-flushed bosoms

heaved.

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One, with her warm and milk-white arms outspread,
On tip-toe tripped along a sunlit glade;
Half turned the matchless sculpture of her head,
And half shook down her silken circling braid;
Her back-blown scarf an arched rainbow made;

She seemed to float on air, so light she sped;
With fair and printless feet, like clouds along the sky.
Skimming the wavy flowers, as she passed by,
One sat alone within a shady nook,

With wild-wood songs the lazy hours beguiling; Or looking at her shadow in the brook,

Trying to frown, then at the effort smiling. Her laughing eyes mocked every serious look;

'Twas as if Love stood at himself reviling: She threw in flowers, and watched them float away, Then at her beauty looked, then sang a sweeter lay.

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One, half asleep, crushing the twined flowers,
Upon a velvet slope like Dian lay;
Still as a lark that mid the daisies cowers:
Her looped-up tunic tossed in disarray,
Showed rounded limbs, too fair for earthly bowers;
They looked like roses on a cloudy day;
The warm white dulled amid the colder green;

66

they should find a voice to complain that we are tyrants and usurpers, to kill and cook them up in their assigned and native dwelling-place," we should most convincingly admonish them, with point of arrow, that they have nothing to do with our laws but to obey them. Is it not written that the fat ribs of the herd shall be fed upon by the mighty in the land? And have not they, withal, my blessing?-my orthodox, canonical, and archiepiscopal blessing? Do I not give thanks for them when they are well roasted and smoking under my nose? What title had William of Normandy to England that Robin of Locksley has not to merry Sherwood? William fought for his claim. So does Robin. With whom both? With any that would or will dispute it. William raised contributions. So does Robin. From whom both? From all that they could or can make pay them.

The flowers too rough a couch that lovely shape to Why did any pay them to William? Why do any

screen.

Some lay like Thetis' nymphs along the shore,
With ocean-pearl combing their golden locks,
And singing to the waves for evermore;

Sinking like flowers at eve beside the rocks,
If but a sound above the muffled roar

Of the low waves was heard. In little flocks Others went trooping through the wooded alleys, Their kirtles glancing white, like streams in sunny valleys.

They were such forms as, imaged in the night,

Sail in our dreams across the heaven's steep blue; When the closed lid sees visions streaming bright, Too beautiful to meet the naked view; Like faces formed in clouds of silver light.

Women they were! such as the angels knewSuch as the mammoth looked on, ere he fled, Scared by the lovers' wings, that streamed in sunset

red.

MR J. L. PEACOCK.

This gentleman has written some lively, natural, and humorous novels-Headlong Hall, 1816; Nightmare Abbey, 1818; Maid Marian, 1822; and Crotchet Castle, 1831. These were republished in 1837 in one volume of Bentley's Standard Library, and no single volume of fiction of modern production contains more witty or sarcastic dialogue, or more admirable sketches of eccentric and ludicrous characters. His dramatis persona are finely arranged and diversified, and are full of life, argument, and observation. From the higher mood' of the author we extract one short sketch a graphic account, in the tale of 'Maid Marian,' of freebooter life in the forest.

'I am in fine company,' said the baron.

In the very best of company,' said the friar; in the high court of Nature, and in the midst of her own nobility. Is it not so? This goodly grove is our palace; the oak and the beech are its colonnade and its canopy; the sun, and the moon, and the stars, are its everlasting lamps; the grass, and the daisy, and the primrose, and the violet, are its many-coloured floor of green, white, yellow, and blue; the Mayflower, and the woodbine, and the eglantine, and the ivy, are its decorations, its curtains, and its tapestry; the lark, and the thrush, and the linnet, and the nightingale, are its unhired minstrels and musicians. Robin Hood is king of the forest both by dignity of birth and by virtue of his standing army, to say nothing of the free choice of his people, which he has indeed; but I pass it by as an illegitimate basis of power. He holds his dominion over the forest, and its horned multitude of citizen-deer, and its swinish multitude or peasantry of wild boars, by right of conquest and force of arms. He levies contributions among them by the free consent of his archers, their virtual representatives. If

pay them to Robin? For the same reason to bothbecause they could not or cannot help it. They differ, indeed, in this, that William took from the poor and gave to the rich, and Robin takes from the rich and gives to the poor; and therein is Robin illegitimate, though in all else he is true prince. Scarlet and John, are they not peers of the forest?-lords temporal of Sherwood? And am not I lord spiritual? Am I not archbishop? Am I not Pope? Do I not consecrate their banner and absolve their sins? Are not they State, and am not I Church? Are not they State monarchical, and am not I Church militant? Do I not excommunicate our enemies from venison and brawn, and, by'r Lady! when need calls, beat them down under my feet? The State levies tax, and the Church levies tithe. Even so do we. Mass! -we take all at once. What then? It is tax by redemption, and tithe by commutation. Your William and Richard can cut and come again, but our Robin deals with slippery subjects that come not twice to his exchequer. What need we, then, to constitute a court, except a fool and a laureate? For

the fool, his only use is to make false knaves merry by art, and we are true men, and are merry by nature. For the laureate, his only office is to find virtues in those who have none, and to drink sack for his pains. We have quite virtue enough to need him not, and

can drink our sack for ourselves.'

HORACE SMITH,

MR HORACE SMITH, one of the accomplished authors of the Rejected Addresses, was one of the first imitators of Sir Walter Scott in his historical romances. His Brambletye House, a tale of the civil wars, published in 1826, was received with distinguished favour by the public, though some of its descriptions of the plague in London were copied too literally from Defoe, and there was a want of spirit and truth in the embodiment of some of the historical characters. The success of this effort inspired the author to venture into various fields of fiction. He has subsequently written Tor Hill; Zillah, a Tale of the Holy City; The Midsummer Medley; Walter Colyton; The Involuntary Prophet; Jane Lomax; The Moneyed Man; Adam Brown; The Merchant, &c. The Moneyed Man' is the most natural and able of Mr Smith's novels, and contains some fine pictures of London city life. The author himself is fortunately a moneyed man. Mr Shelley said once, "I know not what Horace Smith must take me for sometimes: I am afraid he must think me a strange fellow; but is it not odd, that the only truly generous person I ever knew, who had money to be generous with, should be a stockbroker! And he writes poetry too," continued Mr Shelley, his voice rising in a fervour of astonishment-"he writes poetry and pastoral dramas, and yet knows how to

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