with more just ideas of the author, and with a clearer comprehension of his merits and defects, than they would derive from a consultation of his pages. They are taught to look with a more enlarged vision, and to pass by with a generous disdain, that little eriticism, which, in mean and malignant minds, is usually converted into an engine of torture. In his main criticisms we cordially concur, and we will notice that his strictures on Junius, Marmion, the ballad of Leonora, and on Pope's elegy on the death of an unfortunate lady, have our hearty acquiescence. He has not, in our opinion, been so successful in his analysis on Cato's Soliloquy. For instance, he condemns this passage:

"Or whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,

This longing after immortality."

This he considers as tautologous. The pleasing hope' may be called the positive degree of the mind; the fond desire,' the comparative, and the longing after,' the superlative-all indicating different sensations, more vivid in proportion as the prospect of eternity approaches. Mr. Ogilvie considers these lines,

"Or whence this secret dread, this inward horror

Of falling into naught,”

as terms synonimous. Here the criticism appears to us inaccurate. All of us, for instance, have a natural dread of battle; but what man, in reading an account of an action, ever uttered a scream of horror; it is only in the hour of battle that he can be thus affected. Dread is nothing but fear, of which horror is the climax. Again; Cato says,

"'Tis Heaven itself which points out an hereafter,

And intimates eternity to man;"

which Mr. Ogilvie deems synonimous. Eternity' undoubtedly comprehends an hereafter;' but does it thence follow that every hereafter must ex vi termini be an "eternity?"

Exactly of the same species of criticism, is his censure on this passage:

"The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.'

Mr. Ogilvie contends, that the crush of worlds' is the wreck of matter;' but will he venture to say, the wreck of matter is nccessarily the crush of worlds? This wreck' is evidently a distinct thing, and the poet to show its extent expands the idea, and comprehends in the wreck' the dissolution of the universe.

We have been more particular in reprobating these instances, because we think that this criticism savours too much of that compendious nicety, and lacks that comprehensive character that distinguish the other criticisms of this gentleman.

We have cited these examples, because we wish to speak fairly and impartially; because we profess cordially to concur in his plan, and because we would not have the dignity of analytic criticism debased by punctilious and scrupulous niceties. All his other examples are noble specimens; the artist displays the whole architecture at one view, and does not confine our attention to the flaws discernible in a single block of the marble. Even if the criticism were correct, it is unworthy of Mr. Ogilvie's attention in the sweeping range which he takes of the author, and serves to impair its general effect. How much more forcibly may we urge this objection when the criticism is, as in the above instances, incorrect!

The general scope, and characteristics of the author, are objects only worthy of a genius like the orator's. He has given ample evidence that he is capable of illuminating the brightest passages of the most admired poets, and of bringing out their various beauties in a prouder relief.

In a day like the present, when the rabies politica seems to have eaten into the core of private life, it is with cordial satisfaction that we felicitate the public, that there is at least one place blending instruction with amusement, where our political antagonists may repose upon their weapons, and for a season forget that they ever were enemies. Scrupulously has the orator avoided this ground; he is neither a federal or democratic admirer of Walter Scott.

There is scarcely any valuable institution, either literary or charitable in the United States, whose utility he has not illustrated, and whose funds he has not improved. These are some of the strong claims of this gentleman to public patronage, to which,

we will add, that his lectures are embellished with the charms of fancy, and enforced with the energy of eloquence. At a time when criticism assumes a character so high and imposing, it becomes especially important that the just principles of this art should be known, illustrated, and more generally defined.

A.

FOR THE PORT FOLIO.-FRENCH LITERATURE.

MR. OLDSCHOOL,

I MET lately an amusing work, published at Paris in the year 1811, called " Paris, Versailles, et les provinces au 18me siecle;" and as you devote a page occasionally to French literature, I have transcribed two or three anecdotes, which are at your service.

MADAME GENLIS, in her delightful little book, Souvenirs de Felicie, relates some pleasant anecdotes of the count d'Auterroche, whose youthful heroism, and high-minded sense of honour, remind one of the days of ancient chivalry. Yet this gallant soldier, bred up in camps, was totally ignorant of life, and had hardly an idea of a crime beyond the violation of military duty. One of his men had been in the practice of assuming the dress of a mendicant friar, and of thus defrauding the church of charity intended for its poor. Being detected in this impious sacrilege, the reprobate was thrown into prison. The count, who was at that time a captain in the guards, went, in a great passion, to see him. "Wretch," said he, ❝ do you not know what an unpardonable crime it is to put of your uniform?" "Yes, sir," said the soldier; "and therefore I always kept it on under the frock."-"Oh, that is another matter: if this be really the case you shall be liberated immediately!"

M. de Laverdy, comptroller-general, at the first levce he attended after his preferment, was extremely anxious to show his gratitude to the king; and had taken great pains to prepare him

self to answer, without hesitation, any question that might be put to him in regard to the finances. The king made a full pause before him: "Pray," said his majesty, "are not the fixtures of the comptroller's office gilded?" The poor count was bewildered-he had never thought about such a trifling subject; and, with much confusion, acknowledged he did not know. This scene was not lost on the courtier next him, who happened to be the Venetian ambassador, and he determined to answer with readiness any question, however frivolous. "Can your excellency tell me," said Louis, "how many members your council of a hundred consists of?” "Of ten," replied the precipitate envoy. The monarch moved on, and seemed thankful for an unembarrassed answer, to whose meaning, like that of his own question, he had never in the smallest degree attended.

"What is the reason," said the old marquis of F to his young wife," that you can't enjoy my company at home, instead of running abroad; ought we not to be one person?" "Oh yes," said the lively brunette, "we certainly are so-and I hate solitude."

The count de Merle, a man of very little estimation in society, and still less as a man of talents, was, by some unaccountable accident, sent as a minister to Portugal. Being told that at his presentation he must address some flattering compliments to the king, he ordered his secretary to prepare him something for this purpose, and, above all, to make it very short, as his memory, from want of practice, was very treacherous. The adulatory lines were accordingly made as laconic as possible; yet it appeared that the count had not belied his memory, for in the whole journey from Paris to Lisbon, all his efforts to fix them there proved ineffectual. The address, however, being indispensable, necessity reduced him to the expedient of having it written off, in large characters, and sewed in his hat. Pleased with this ingenious contrivance, our ambassador boldly presented himself at the audience chamber: but the etiquette of this unpolished court quite dashed his fine prospect; for hardly had he begun, after a profound bow, to open his mouth with, "Sire," &c. when the king, according to custom, courteously desired him to cover his head. The ambassador, thinking himself

misunderstood, began again, with "Sire," when the king, who had reasons to wish a good understanding with France, insisted that the count should not so far demean himself as to remain uncovered. De Merle was forced to submit; but so much chagrined was he at this untoward occurrence, that he could not utter a single word; and the next day wrote home, that nothing could be expected from this savage government. Hostilities followed soon after.

The sexton of the imperial church at Berlin, who had great pretensions to clerkship, one day wrote to Frederick the following letter:

"Sire-I have to inform you, 1. That there is a great deficiency of books of psalms for the choir. 2. That there is no wood to warm the church; and 3. Your majesty is informed that the balcony on the river, immediately behind the church, threatens every day to tumble down. SCHMIDT."

Frederick answered immediately:

"I inform Mr. Schmidt, 1. That they who want to sing may buy books. 2. That they who find themselves cold may get wood. 3. That the balustrade on the river is no concern of his; and, 4. That I want no further correspondence with him."

The pious Mr. D, engaging a servant the other day, in place of one he had turned off, mentioned, amongst other instructions, that he must attend the family prayers every evening. This the poor fellow by no means relished, and, at first, absolutely refused; but at length observed, that as his master would no doubt have an eye to it in the account of wages, he had no great objection to make an experiment, it being perfectly understood that he should at any time have liberty to quit.

GENERAL

ORIGINAL LETTERS OF GENERAL GREENE.

Camp on the Pedee, December 29, 1780.

Dear Sir-Your letter respecting colonel Drayton overtook me at Philadelphia, and I have been making inquiry after him