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mysticism, and not a little dogmatism-the latter quality we should have considered in ordinary cases as highly offensive, but in this particular instance it is softened down to us by two considerations, the respect we owe to a wise and good man, and the circumstance that his positions are generally so much in accordance with our own sentiments, that we are willing to excuse the reason which in strictness we are entitled to demand. The volume contains twenty-two sermons, the best of which, in our opinion, are the first, on "Christ's Death, and its Effects," the eighth, on the "Doctrine of Assurance," and the thirteenth, "The Consolations of Faith."

If the present volume adds little to our national stock of theological literature, it at least supports the reputation which Sir Henry Moncreiff had already earned as an elegant writer, and a shrewd, well-informed, and orthodox divine. We must not forget to mention that the greater number of the discourses contained in this volume were selected from Sir Henry's papers, and a few of them printed under the revisal of the late Dr A. Thomson, and that there is a short, modest, and elegant Preface, by the author's distinguished son, Lord Moncreiff.

Of Dr Thomson it would be easy to speak at length, and difficult to say any thing new. The part which he acted during the last twenty years of his life was too conspicuous to leave the public ignorant of his character as a public man or as an author. It cannot be denied that he appeared to much greater advantage in his living appearances than in his writings. The former were almost uniformly successful, and sometimes eminently so. His eloquence was not of a very lofty character; at the same time we are willing to admit that this remark must be qualified by many splendid exceptions; but as a debater, we never saw him fairly matched. The same character, though in an inferior degree, belonged to his writings. In personal satire, in controversy, in smart criticism, he was strong, and he was conscious of his strength. In his graver publications he has, to a great extent, failed. This is the more to be wondered at, not merely because he was an extremely popular preacher, for nothing is more common than instances of popular preachers publishing unreadable sermons, but because his popularity was fixed upon the sure and legitimate ground of good sense and practical exposition of divine truth. Besides, he was a practised and a skilful writer; and if his style is distinguished more by vigour than by elegance, this arose rather from the character of the man than from his ignorance of classical composition. Perhaps, after all, the secret of his failure-for his authorship in sermon-writing is a failure-lies in the haste with which he composed and published. With the exception of his "Sermons on Infidelity," his discourses appear to be the very hasty productions of a richly-stored and vigorous mind, satisfying itself with the thoughts which presented themselves first in order, and taking little trouble to exhibit them otherwise than in their original shape. We have mentioned his "Sermons on Infidelity" as an exception to this slovenliness of authorship. They contain more thought, more condensation and pertinence of reasoning, and more careful arrangement, than we find in his other sermons and lectures; but, upon the whole, Dr Thomson's published discourses will add little to his living reputation. We make this remark general, beeause we find nothing in the present volume to deserve particular criticism. It is like the bulk of its predecessors, partaking in the usual proportion of their faults and excellencies.

reams of paper without an eye to publication. Not so with clergymen. They write sermons to assist them in the useful discharge of their duty in instructing their people; and the compositions, when thus used, may effectually serve their present purpose, though they may be totally unfit for the public eye, for which, in fact, they never were intended. Under such circumstances, the fame of the departed, and sometimes even the cause of religion, may suffer from the undue partiality, the ignorance, or the cupidity, of surviving relatives. The injury. to the dead is still greater, when, as in the case of Dr Thomson, sudden and unexpected death overtakes a man in the midst of his usefulness, and without that warning which would have put it into his power to place beyond the reach of relatives papers which were intended for no eye but his own. We know the apology which is generally offered in such cases, but we greatly doubt its validity

at least to the extent to which it is sometimes urged. We offer these remarks here, because we have understood that the publishing another volume (and who will ensure us against another and another?) of Dr Thomson's sermons is in contemplation. The experiment has been sufficiently tried, and we can assure his executors that they are not likely to increase their departed friend's reputation, or their own, by its repetition.

These strictures do not apply to Sir Henry Moncreiff's posthumous volume, because it appears that he had corrected and re-written almost all the Discourses in the volume now published, with an eye to their being laid before the public.

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abused orphan, on the establishment of a Polish nobleWe are first introduced to Ivan as a neglected and

man settled in Bialo-Russia. His treatment here is sketched in a light caustic style that reminds us of the

castle of Thonder-ten-tronckh.

"The first ten years of my life were spent in the house of Mr Gologordoffsky, a country gentleman in BialoRussia: there I was reared like a home-bred wolfling, and was known under the name of The Orphan. Nobody cared for me, and still less cared I for any body. None of the inmates of the house paid me any attention except an old, worn-out dog, who, like me, was left to provide for himself.

"I had no corner of the house assigned me for my lodging, no food nor clothing allotted me, nor any fixed occupation. In the summer, I spent my days in the open air, and slept under the sheds attached to the barn or cowhouse. In the winter, I lived in the bulky kitchen, which served as a rendezvous for the numerous train of servants, and I slept on the hearth among the hot cinders. In summer, I wore nothing but a long shirt and a piece of rope about my waist: in winter, I covered my nakedness with whatever came in my way-any old jacket or Before concluding this short notice, we have a word to fragment of a peasant's coat served my purpose. With say about publishing posthumous volumes of sermons, these articles I was furnished by compassionate people, and we think the present a very proper occasion. In who did not know what to do with their old rags. ordinary cases, when a man leaves any MSS. at his wore nothing on my feet, which became so hardened that death, his executors have a sort of right to publish them, neither grass, nor mud, nor ice, made any difference of as it may be fairly presumed that few men will scribble feeling. My head likewise was left to its natural cover

I

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ing the rain washed out the dust, and the snow cleared away the ashes. I was fed with the fragments from the servants' table, and feasted upon eggs, which I gathered in the neighbourhood of the hen-house, and about the barn; on the leavings in the milk-pots, which I licked with uncommon relish, and on fruit, which I stole by night in the orchard. I was under the command of no one in particular, but every body ordered me about at discretion. In summer, they set me to herd the geese on the pasture, or on the banks of the pond, to protect the goslings and chickens from dogs and kites. In winter, they employed me as a turnspit in the kitchen, and this was to me a most agreeable occupation. Every time that the cook turned his or her back, I would quickly apply my palm to the juicy roast, and under my wrist suck my greasy hand as a bear does its paw. I sometimes very ingeniously snatched pieces of bacon from the dripper, and stole cutlets out of the stewing-pan: my chief occupation was to run errands for all the men-servants, maidservants, and even the footboys. They sent me to the kartchma* for vodky,† placed me on the outlook in sundry places, without explaining their reasons; with orders to whistle or clap my hands on the appearance of the squire, steward, and sometimes even of the other men-servants, or maid-servants. On the first word-' Orphan, run this way or that way, and call this one or that one'-I set off at the gallop, and fulfilled my instructions to a tittle, knowing that the smallest neglect would expose me to an inevitable beating. When they placed me on the watch, and forbade me to look about me-which mostly happened in the garden, during the summer season- -I stood like one buried in the ground, not daring even to lift up my eyes, or make the least motion, till they pushed me from the spot. Sometimes, though very seldom, they rewarded me for my zealous services with a piece of black bread, old bacon, or cheese, and I,

not being famished, would divide it with my beloved dog

Koodlashka.

"Observing how other children were fondled and kissed, I wept bitterly, from an inexpressible feeling of envy and chagrin the caresses and blandishments of Koodlashka alleviated my grief, and made my solitude more tolerable. If other children caressed their mothers and nurses, I would do the same to my Koodlashka, calling him mammy and nursy, lifting him, kissing him, pressing him to my breast, and tumbling with him on the sand. I had an inclination to love my fellow-creatures, particularly those of the other sex, but this inclination was thwarted by fear."

From this thraldom he is emancipated, by the elopement of a daughter of the magnate, whose attendant he has been constituted. From the service of her husband, a young officer, he passes into that of a Jew broker, eking out the gains of his profession by a little smuggling and coin-clipping. This master transfers him to an ex-procureur of a province. While living with this gentleman, he is discovered by an aunt, and emancipated. We have next a history of his schoolboy adventures, first love affair, and sale to slavery among the Kirgheez, "of his redemption thence, and with it all his travel's history." He returns to Moscow, gets inveigled with an actress, and turns gambler; enters the army, and serves with distinction. Settling at St Petersburg, he discovers his real parentage, and finds himself heir to a fortune, marries, and becomes an honest man.

We have already said that the style of this work is that of a tempered satire. Our readers will understand from this that allowance must be made for its pictures of Russian life as verging upon caricature. With this caution, however, they will find it afford them a tolerably correct idea of the mechanism of that great empire, where

A Polish hostelry is called a kartchma.

+ Vodky is an ill-tasted sort of whisky, made from malt and rye four.

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excess of refinement and utter barbarism, superstition and infidelity, ardent aspirations after improvement, and contented filth, stupidity, and beggary, are placed in the most harsh contrast and startling collision, and held in this unnatural juxtaposition by the grasp of an iron despotism. Russia is not advancing in civilisation. She has gone as far as she can in the path she has struck into, but that is a blind alley, and she has reached its termination. Her improvement, wretched and superficial as it is, has been effected forcibly from without-it is not the spontaneous growth of the national mind. All reforms brought about by power, instead of conviction, have a selfcounteracting effect, which in a brief time checks their progress. Russia is at this moment a moral petrifaction nothing short of a great internal revolution can breathe into her rigid frame the relaxing and inspiriting breath of life.

It is chiefly in the portraiture of the domesticated virtues and vices that the author of Ivan Vejeeghen is most at home. There is a want of power and wildness in his scenes of savage life. But his good country gentlemen, amiable women, dupes, and gamblers, are drawn with the hand of a master. Being rather in a cynical mood today, we incline to loiter in the gallery of fools and knaves. What follows is a happily-conceived picture of a not uncommon mania both in Germany and Russia.

"The landlord, Falalay Gloopáshkeen, never intermitted his endeavours to play the part of an English lord. His wooden house was luxuriously fitted up with the most fashionable furniture, with pictures, statues, and bronzes. His stable contained more than a hundred

English horses, and he had upwards of three hundred hounds of different breeds. Among his attendants he had a number of foreigners-English, Germans, and French. For a companion, he kept a Frenchman, under secretary to an Englishman he paid a high salary, the denomination of a litterateur, who was his private merely to talk with him, and perfect him in the pronunciation of the English language. An Italian, an old He enjoyed rogue, lived with him as a sort of friend. the reputation of being a connoisseur of painting, antiques, and music. The Italian traded in the most paltry Itawith that was a usurer and messenger of gallantry. A lian pictures, mosaics, counterfeit antiques, and along German librarian served for a small salary, being attract ed by his love for catalogues, of which there was a num ber in the library. Gloopáshkeen bought a whole company of players from an amateur of the drama, by name Kbarakbóreen, who had squandered away his property, but consoled himself for the loss, by performing in all private theatres, and managing his old troop. Gloopáshkeen's orchestra was also composed of serfs, whom he had collected from different private orchestras. In the house there were about five hundred inmates fed at the expense of Gloopáshkeen, and serving merely for his diversion. It was difficult to keep from laughing at seeing the grave air of the beardless fool, who, fancying himself a great man, spoke about every thing in a decided tone; pronounced his opinions upon politics in sentiments borrowed from his English companion; delivered lectures upon literature in the words of his Frenchman, and spoke upon the arts under the prompting of the Italian. Many of the guests, without having the least idea of the subjects on which he spoke, and knowing the sciences merely by name, looked upon him as a miracle of wisdom, and, while they enjoyed the luxuries of his table, loudly proclaimed that Russia would be happy if Gloopáshkeen were minister."

The absurdities of the middle class-if the term be applicable in Russia-are sketched in a manner not less felicitous.

"In an hour and a half the elder brother requested his guests to return into the gala-rooms, informing them that there would be a performance of a French comedy,

for a surprise to their papakin and mammakin (so he called his father and mother). Chairs were placed in the diningroom: in the buffet were assembled the domestic performers, that is to say, the Moshneen family, and some friends of the young ladies. At the end of the room were fixed movable side-scenes, and a curtain of carpets stitched together was hung up. In place of an orchestra, the youngest daughter's music-master played wretchedly enough upon the pianoforte. When all the guests were seated, according to their ranks, Mr and Mrs Moshneen took their places in the first row of armchairs, seating between them the French governor of the younger children, to translate what was to be said, and explain every thing which should occur. The same governor, Monsieur Furet, was the author of the drama about to be performed, under the title of The liberal Parents, or the good Children.' Although the title of itself was quite enough, nevertheless there was no want of applause, but the clapping of hands was repeated at every word, or at least at every couplet. The substance of the piece was as follows:-A rich merchant spares no expense in the education and outfit of his children; allows his sons money for treating their friends, for equipages, &c.; extends the same munificence to his daughters for dresses; and, besides that, takes them to all the promenades, theatres, and masquerades, and gives balls and fètes at home. In the last act, his daughters are married to princes, counts, and generals; while his sons attain the highest ranks in the service. The sons and sons-in-law, out of gratitude, join together in procuring a title of nobility for their father, who is at last complimented with the style of Right Honourable.' It was a sight worth seeing to behold the ecstasy of the worthy couple during the performance of the piece. The governor translated faithfully every phrase and every couplet which reflected honour on the parents, and tears of tenderness ran in torrents down their cheeks. Notwithstanding that the two oldest sons, heated with wine, bungled in the acting, that the two oldest daughters knew nothing at all of the parts which they had to perform, and that the voice of the prompter drowned the speeches of the actors, who, besides that, sang quite out of tune, the performance went through gloriously, and attained the object in view, that is to say, it convinced Moshneen that children should not be grudged money to supply their extravagance, as it all tends to the elevation of the family."

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We conclude our extracts with the description of a

usurer:

66 Rubopereen went with me to the money-lenders. We first entered a small hole of a shop about seven feet square, crammed to the ceiling with old tattered books in all languages, ancient and modern, covered with dust and spiders' webs. At the other end of this kennel were slumbering, cheek by jowl, a lean tom-cat and the shopboy. Rubopereen awakened the sleeping sentinel with a fillip on the nose, and asked for Taraseetch. You know, in the morning he goes about the courts and public offices, but now it is almost the time when he should be back here.'-' How can the tenant of this beggarly hole be a monied man?' asked I of Rubopereen. Three hundred thousand at command, neither more nor less,' replied Rubopereen. This shop is nothing more than a pretext, a corner for meetings and bargains, a signboard of the residence of Taras Tarasoveetch Kashtcheyeff. It is a pity that this is not Saturday, the day of settling and paying the debts of the week among merchants; you would see how the shopkeepers and owners of rich warehouses and magazines flock about this hole, how they wink to Taras Tarasoveetch, and beckon to him to call at their shops; he takes only three per cent per month on pawn from people that he does not know, and to safe people he lends also upon their own bill.'"

We recommend Ivan Vejeeghen to the notice of every reader who wishes to acquaint himself with the character

of that huge western colossus, in which a moral pestilence is festering into existence, threatening its civilized neighbours with ten times more danger than our good friend the Englishman's pet bugbear of the cholera-morbus.

Ornithological Dictionary of British Birds. By Colonel G. Montagu, F. L. S. Second Edition. With a Plan of Study, and many New Articles and Original Observations, by James Rennie, A. M., A. L. S., Professor of Natural History, King's College, London, &c. 8vo. Pp. 592. London. Hurst, Chance, and Co. 1831.

WE hail with pleasure this new edition of Montagu, a book which has for a number of years been out of print; and this appears the more extraordinary, as it was eagerly sought after by ornithologists, and bought at a price fre quently above double its original cost.

The present differs from the first edition in several important particulars. The introduction has been taken to pieces, and scattered through the work in alphabetical order; and a new introduction and plan of study, by the editor, has been substituted in its stead. He has pretty fully discussed the merits of various systems, and we generally agree with him in his opinions, but cannot assent to the views he entertains of their being in a great measure useless in studying natural objects. They are the best means which have yet been devised for enabling the naturalist to come most readily at the names and characters of known species. In his (Mr Rennie's) total condemnation of the quinary system, we most cordially concur; and if we had not the everyday experience that even Joanna Southcot, with hosts of other fools who entertain equally absurd doctrines, have their followers, we would wonder how it could have obtained a single proselyte, especially amongst naturalists, whose whole systems are founded on an accumulation of facts.

As far as we comprehend this system, it can have no reality in nature that all animals, from man downwards, should be formed, or connected in bunches of fives, arranged in a circular series, is too absurd a notion to be entertained for an instant. The five members, composing these groups, are said to be composed of two normal or typical, and three aberrant ones,-for example, the vultures are thus:

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"The quinary system," says Mr Rennie, "under con- error, are avoided, and the only danger is from what he sideration, while it professes to reject the strange doctrine quaintly denominates prejudices of the dens (idola specus), of Darwin, which he borrowed from Epicurus, at the meaning thereby, the imperfections of an individual's insame time adopts its very language in the most unequi- tellect, whether natural to him or produced by education. vocal manner. Though nature, says M. Vigors, with Here it is that the utility of books becomes obvious. You peculiar elegance of illustration, nowhere exhibits an witness, in a field excursion, a certain incident or pecuabsolute division between her various groups, she yet liarity of action in some animal, which strikes you as displays sufficiently distinctive characters to enable us to being worthy of being chronicled in your notebook.” arrange them in conterminous assemblages, and to retain The editor has added all the newly discovered species, each assemblage, at least in idea, separate from the rest. with much useful and authenticated matter, extracted It is not, however, at the point of junction between it from the works of ornithologists who have written since and its adjoining groups that I look for the distinctive the first edition of this work appeared, and enriched it character. There, as M. Temminck observes, it is not with some extremely valuable observations of his own, to be found. It is at that central point which is most culled with much discrimination from the great book of remote from the ideal point of junction on each side, and Nature. He has made some important and judicious where the characteristic peculiarities of the groups, gra- alterations in the arrangement of words, having discarded dually unfolding themselves, appear in their full develope- several that were rather clumsy. He has corrected ment; it is at that spot, in short, where the typical cha- | several errors in the synonymes, and given importracter is most conspicuous, that I fix my exclusive atten- ant notes; with the addition of a list of authors who tion. Upon these typical eminences I plant my banners have written on this branch of science, arranged under of distinction, round which corresponding species may three heads, namely-I. Rudimental Naturalists; II. congregate, as they more or less approach the types of each. Literary Naturalists; III. Philosophic Naturalists; and In my pursuit of nature, I am accustomed to look upon original observations. The book is beautifully and corthe great series, in which her productions insensibly pass rectly printed, and a variety of interesting and neatly into each other, with similar feelings to those with which executed woodcuts have been interspersed throughout the I contemplate some of those beautiful pieces of natural work. scenery, where the grounds swell out in a diversified inThe republication of this deservedly popular work is terchange of valley and elevation. Here, although I can a boon to the naturalist, and we think there are few who detect no breach in that undulating outline, over which will not avail themselves of the valuable information it the eye delights to glide without interruption, I can still contains; for it is made up of the essence of all that is give a separate existence, in idea, to every elevation be-known of British ornithology. In this department, and fore me, and assign it a separate name. It is upon the points of eminence in each that I fix my attention, and it is these points that I compare together, regardless, in my divisions, of the lower grounds, which imperceptibly meet at the base. Thus also it is that I fix upon the typical eminences, that rise most conspicuously above that continued outline, in which nature disposes her living groups. These afford me sufficient prominency of character for my ideal divisions; for ideal they must be, where nature shows none. And thus it is that I conceive my groups to be at once separate and united; separate at their typical elevations, but united at their

basal extremes."

In order to understand what M. Vigors means by type and typical, it will be necessary to state that all the species in any particular group are described as possessing particular characters whose general union constitutes what is termed a type. "The cerutrum, or perfection of the group," says Mr MacLeay, "is in fact that part of the circumference of the circle of affinity which is farthest from the neighbouring group, and exactly the same thing which, in Hore Entomologica, has been more happily called type."

In the idea of a "great chain of nature," there is something to warrant the sublimity of the conception, if we make allowance for a few links, which are still undiscovered; but we cannot bear to harbour a thought of the mechanical wheel and pinion regularity of the quinary system, and therefore leave it to its fate; and turn to some further considerations of the volume before us.

also in British conchology, Montagu's works have the chance of standing long unrivalled.

The Cabinet for Youth; containing Narratives, Sketches, and Anecdotes, for the Instruction and Amusement of the Young. Edited by the Authors of the Odd Volume. Edinburgh William Whyte. London: Whittaker and Co. 1831.

THIS is a very pretty little book, and a very amusing little book, and a very instructive little book, and a very proper little book for the shelves of the juvenile library. Young readers will find in it sketches of the peculiarities of the nations most remote in their manners and sympathies from European customs of the Chinese, the American Indians, and the inhabitants of the Tonga Islands. They will find descriptions of animate and inanimate nature, calculated to awaken a love for their several beauties. They will find curious anecdotes of our own and neighbouring countries. And all these varieties, either extracted from the best standard works or furnished by the amiable editors, are given simply and unostentatiously, without any of that adopted childishness of diction which in so many works for the use of young people, without approaching them one iota nearer the juvenile compre. hension, retards the developement of intellect as surely as the lisping and babbling of nurses does the acquirement of intelligible utterance. "The Cabinet for Youth" is a good wholesome moral and intellectual meal, which no parents need fear to dish up to their children. Here follows a specimen :

"A supervisor of excise, named Thomas, was ordered not long since to a town not far from Llanfyllin, in Montgomeryshire, to occupy the district of a supervisor, who had been shifted to another station, as is usual with the servants of the excise department; and having a wife and children, he proceeded on first, in order to select a

Mr Rennie very properly recommends that the study of nature be commenced in the fields, and afterwards the observations which have been made on such objects as present themselves, be compared with books; for, says he, "In books we can only obtain knowledge at second hand, and this, like a story circulated among village gossips, is more apt to gain in falsehood than in truth, as it passes from one to another; but, in field study, we go at once to the fountainhead, and obtain our facts pure and un-suitable house for his family. He had never been in alloyed by the theories and opinions of previous observers. By pursuing such a method, three of the chief prejudices, which Lord Bacon has pointed out as sources of human

*Lucretius, De Naturâ Rerum, v. 795, &c.

Wales before, and, consequently, he met with many inconveniences. The only house vacant was a large old mansion, which stood in decay at the foot of a mountain; and to this the supervisor was directed as the only habitable place that was not occupied. On the first view

of so large a house, all notion of becoming a tenant was abandoned; but as the place had a mysterious curiosity about it, the mansion being large, the garden choked with weeds, the steps leading to the doors moss-grown, several of the windows being broken, and the whole having an air of grandeur in neglect, he was prompted to make enquiries; and an old man, to whom he was referred as being the only owner as long as any neighbour could remember, instantly offered to let him the mansion at the small rent of five pounds a-year. The supervisor did not want so large a house; but as he wished to send for his family, and had been obliged to put up with lodgings in a paltry alehouse he thought it was worth while to go over the old pile, and ascertain whether a few rooms could not be comfortably fitted up for his accommodation, while in discharge of his duty there. The lowness of the rent of course operated as an additional inducement; and having fixed upon four or five rooms up stairs, he struck the bargain, got in a few little things until his wife should arrive with all the domestic equipments of a family, and forth with wrote off for her. The first night of his sojourn he lighted a large fire to dispel the dampness, and having taken his glass of grog, he lay down and enjoyed an excellent night's rest. On his rising in the morning, his first visit was to a barber's shop in the town in order to get shaved, and there several persons enquired most earnestly how he had slept; and when he declared that he had never enjoyed a better night's rest in his life, every one seemed amazed. The mystery was now dispelled, and his eyes were opened by being informed the 'Tee Gwyn,' or White House,' as the mansion was called, had been haunted for fifty years back. The supervisor laughed at this notion, and avowed his utter disbelief in ghosts. The professional shrewdness usually characteristic of his calling, raised a surmise that this same lonely house might be a very snug spot for working an illicit still; and, accordingly, he determined not to be driven out of his new habitation, until he ascertained the fact. He spent the greater part of the day in rummaging the vaults and every hiding-place; but without discovering any thing to confirm his suspicions. As night advanced, he threw an extra log on the fire, and, having borrowed a chair in the town, he sat himself down before it, ate his bread and cheese, and sipped his grog amidst various ruminations. At one time he thought his situation rather dangerous; as, in the event of his suspicions being true, there was no assistance at hand. He might have his throat cut from ear to ear, and his body thrown into a tub; while his wife and family would be none the wiser. Fears of the living, more than of the dead, flitted across his brain, and at length he resolved, in case he heard any thing going on, to remain as quiet as possible, and send all the information he could to the heads of his department. He could see by his watch it was nearly 12 o'clock; but Nature's fond nurse' had forsaken him, and he felt no inclination to sleep.

"On a sudden he heard footsteps on the staircase, and he felt, or thought he felt, his hair lift his hat at least an inch off his forehead. His heart fluttered; the logs did not seem to blaze so brightly; he listened anxiously, but he heard nothing. After chiding his fancy for frightening him, he mustered courage enough to open the door, which he left in that state, and then betook himself to his couch, after a paralytic sort of a poke at the fire. Scarce had the first doze relieved his limbs, when he was awakened by a strange clattering on the staircase, as if ten thousand imps were ascending to his room. In the panic of the moment he jumped up, and rushed to the landing-place, where he distinctly heard the imps clatter down the broad staircase again, making faint shrieking cries, which died away with the sounds of their footsteps as they seemed to gain the vaults beneath the house. It was now manifest that there were other living tenants in the mansion besides himself; and the remain

der of that sleepless night was spent in gloomy conjectures. With painful anxiety did he watch the grey breaking in the east; and when the day burst forth, he commenced a most scrutinizing search. Nothing, however, was to be discovered, not even a footstep on the staircase; although he could have sworn that he really did hear his disturbers ascend towards his room, and then depart. On his visit to the town that morning, the previous day's enquiries were repeated; but he strenuously denied having been disturbed, for fear he should be thought a coward. The next evening, he determined to ascertain whether any thing really did ascend the staircase, or whether it was mere fancy; and for this purpose, he spread a thick coat of sand on every step, imagining, shrewdly enough, that, if his tormentors were really substantial, they must leave some tracks behind them. In the middle of the night the same extraordinary noise was heard; but the supervisor had provided himself with pistols, and being armed with a lamp also, he proceeded down stairs as hard as he could. The imps, however, were too nimble for him, and he could not even get a glimpse of them. Again did he search in every hole and corner, disturbing the poor spiders with the blaze of his lamp; and finding his scrutiny in vain, he was retracing his steps, when he recollected the sand which, in his terrified descent, he had forgotten, when, to his horror, he perceived some five or six hundred cloven tracks! They were too small for old goblins, and much too large for rats, and the poor man was more puzzled than ever. The matter assumed rather a serious aspect, and he determined to write to his wife forbidding her arrival until she heard farther from him. All the day long his brain was racked by conjectures as to the species of creatures that had disturbed his quiet. Fifty times did he conclude that it was perhaps a trick, and as often did he abandon that notion as improbable; but then he could not account for his not being able to see the authors of the tracks; and forthwith he resolved on another project. He had given up every idea that rats could have made such a noise or tracks so large, but he determined to try if a few rat traps could solve the mystery. Accordingly, he procured six, which were all that he could get; and on the fourth night carefully set them in a row on one of the steps of the staircase, so that if the imps ascended in a column, he was sure of catching at least one of them. Still he would not abandon his pistols or his lamp, but determined to be on guard all night. About the mystic hour of twelve, he again heard the hobgoblins jumping or hopping, as it seemed, up the stairs, and while he cocked one of the pistols he heard a trap go off, then another, then another, succeeded by appalling shrieks and the same clattering noise down stairs again. He proceeded to the spot, and there to his infinite astonishment, he found, not an imp, nor any thing supernatural, but three fine fat rabbits, caught by the legs in the traps. The simple fact was, that the inhabitants of an adjoining rabbit-warren used to make their way up through the sewers into the deserted mansion, and their gambols through the empty rooms first gave rise to the story of the Tee Gwynn' being haunted. It is needless to add, that Mr Thomas forthwith sent for his family, and they now enjoy a house, and as many rabbits as they can eat, for five pounds a-year."

A New Illustrated Road Book of the Route from London to Naples; containing Twenty-four highly-finished Views from Original Drawings by Prout, Stanfield, and Brockeden. Engraved by William and Edward Finden. (Part I., containing the Route from London to Paris.) Edited by W. Brockeden, Author of "The Passes of the Alps." Demy Svo. London. John Murray.

1831.

THIS book is evidently the composition of a man who

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