the rate of wages. Now let us test this rule by experience. Wages are higher in America than Great Britain. Why? Because there are fewer labourers in the former country than in the latter; that is, fewer labourers who work for wages. Men who are at once labourers and capitalists, as is the case with a large class of Americans, do not come within the rule, since there is, on their parts, no competition for wages. That the amount of the product is no criterion of the rate of wages is evident, since, if we suppose a country which contained ten masters and one workman, we well know his wages would be higher, and his products less, than a country where there was but one master and ten workmen. Thus, therefore, we see no good reason to change our original opinion, that the rate" of wages depends upon the supply of labour compared with the demand.

We have now candidly stated some of our leading objections to Mr. Everett's new theory. It may possibly be, that our scep ticism has arisen from those preconceived notions which we have long entertained. We are fully aware of the power of habit, and are not perhaps enough on our guard to counteract its frequently pernicious influence. We do not think, however, that any thing has fallen from us which was not dictated by a cool dispassionate view of the subject.

The

The review, which we have already mentioned, of Mr. Everett's work in the North American has exhibited the subject in a rather different light; but the examination of both would have extended this article to an unreasonable length. One single observation, however, we will venture to make. reviewer says, that the phrase, "tendency of population to increase in a given ratio," does not convey a distinct idea to the mind. We will not venture to say it does to others, but to us, it really seems to be as clear as any idea can be. In matter, there is a tendency to gravitate at given points, with certain velocities, and in animated nature there is a like tendency to reproduction. The laws may be suspended by intervening obstacles, but still there is in both cases a principle which will operate the moment the counteracting power is removed; and this is exactly what we understand by a tendency to reproduc tion of the species.

Mr. Everett's "New Ideas on Population," is a model of elegance in style and adroitness in argument. And although we are not fortunate enough to coincide entirely with this gentleman's ideas, in this branch of political science, yet we will cheerfully express our admiration of the benevolent feel, ing with which he has advanced, and the extreme ingenuity with which he has supported them.

Reminiscences of Charles Butler, Esq. of Lincoln's Inn, with a Letter to a lady on Ancient and Modern Music. From the fourth London edition. New-York. E. Bliss & E. White. 1824. pp. 351.

Mr. Butler is well known to the members of the legal profession, in this country and his own, as the continuator of Hargrave's Notes on Coke upon Littleton, the author of Hora Juridicæ Subcecivæ, and editor of Fearne on Remainders. The present volume is, we believe, the first of his miscellaneous works that has been republished on this side of the Atlantic. It is, as he himself terms it, opus senile;' the adversaria of a professional man, advanced in life, who, in the course of long and useful labours, has come often in contact with philosophers and politicians; been led by their affinity to the subjects of his study into the many collateral topics connected with the history of law; and occasionally stolen an interval from severer pursuits, to amuse himself with the gayer attractions of classical and imaginative literature.

On all the themes which have occupied his attention, since his earliest years, the Reminiscent, as he rather quaintly styles himself, makes passing remarks in this volume. It contains, also, anecdotes and characters of the eminent statesmen and jurists of his time. The titles and contents of the author's own publications, which are not few in number, are interspersed among these materials. We cannot discover that the author has adopted any particular principle of arrangement, chronological, or resulting from the nature of the different matters on which he touches, in compiling these' Reminiscences.' The contents of his port-folio have been poured forth, apparently, without much concern as to the order in which they fell into the press; and the author having, at one period of his life, amused his leisure hours with mathematics, has given us here, among his other lucubrations, a solution, by no means ingenious, of an ordinary algebraical problem.

But, notwithstanding the want of method in the book, and although many of the facts mentioned are far from being new to the general reader, the items possess generally an intrinsic interest; and as a whole, we have found the work highly entertaining. It could indeed hardly fail of being so, containing, as it does, the reflections and opinions formed at different periods in the life of a man of great industry and mental respectability. Such a production would be peculiarly interesting from the pen of any enlightened man, who, having been de

voted to a particular profession, and been a disinterested auditor of the opinions and disputes of his times, should record the history of his own mind, from the first active operations of intellect, and the changes it had undergone in its admiration or dislike of men, their actions and their writings. In youth, we look down with contempt on what had constituted our childish ideal of beauty or excellence. In manhood, we reject as fantastic or unprofitable, that which had excited our youthful enthusiasm; while in age, we frequently return with delight to the simple images which pleased us in our infancy. There is, perhaps, an analogy between these variations of individual perceptions, and the changes which public taste undergoes, in relation to its favourites or successful courtiers. Novelty either pleases or displeases on its first appearance; whether it does or does not, is at least as often determined by the influence of accident or caprice, as by the actual merit of the candidate for fame. Fashion gives currency to these first impressions, and its sanction settles the question for a time; but the next generation often revises its decrees, and prostrates the idols of its worship. By and by comes the antiquarian, laudator temporis acti, and rouses from the sleep of ages forgotten wits and poets. National pride, respect for what is old, a proneness to slight what is new, perhaps a jealousy of cotemporary talents, combine to assist his efforts in effecting a resurrection of buried works. Such has often been the changeful aspect of celebrated names-not only of the secondary but of the primary planets in the intellectual firmament.

Mr. Butler's early education on the continent appears to have given to his mind a bias in favour of French literature. He states the relative pretensions of the English and their neighbours, however, with great fairness, as far as his parallels extend.

"Equally subscribing to the decided superiority which the English assign to Shakspeare and Milton over all the poets of France, the Reminiscent yet feels that other nations do not seem to acquiesce in this opinion. This is usually ascribed to their imperfect knowledge of the English language; but it may be observed, that few, who are not natives of France, have that complete knowledge of the French language, which constitutes the difference between a perfect and an imperfect style. It must be added, that both Mr. Fox and Mr. Gibbon, the former a real, the latter a professed admirer of the Grecian School, are said to have preferred Corneille and Racine to the two great English bards.

In the second order of French poets,-none can be compared to Dryden. Boileau and Pope may be considered to be equally balanced; the style of the former is singularly perfect: and his poems have nothing of the useless epithet, the pertness, or the ribaldry which too often disfigure the strains of Pope; but in vain should we seek in the pages of Boileau, for the fire, the

imagination, the dignity, the elegant playfulness, or the occasional, though not frequent tenderness, which Pope displays. Who that reads his happy imitation of the Intermissa Venus Diu of Horace, does not wish he had of tener touched the plaintive chords All the Odes sacrées of Jean Baptiste Rousseau, many of his other odes, and many of his allegories and cantatas, possess an extraordinary degree of merit; we suspect that most foreigners would prefer them to the odes of Gray.*

We have nothing to oppose to the comedies of Moliere, the fables of La Fontaine, or the elegant trifles of Chaulieu or Gresset. In novels,-certainly the most numerous offspring of modern literature,—England,—(at least if we except the two most perverse productions of human talent, the Emile and the Nouvelle Heloise,)-has the pre-eminence.

The French allow the superiority of Bacon, Locke, and sir Isaac Newton, over their own philosophers,—and the superiority of Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon, over their own historians; but they observe that, while Bossuet, Bourdaloue, and Massillon, are to be found in all libraries and on many toilets in every part of the continent where literature is cultivated, scarcely one English preacher or divine is read out of England. With respect also to Sir Isaac Newton, they remark, that, since the death of that great man, the English mathematicians have done little more than slumber under his glories, while d'Alembert, Le Gendre, La Grange, La Place, and Carnot, have pursued his discoveries, have completed the grand edifice which he left unfinished, and may therefore he said to have given him a kind of posthumous domicile in France.

It is scarcely necessary to mention, that many splendid names in English literature are omitted in this brief comparison. Independently of this omission, the modern literati of Great Britain, that is to say, those who have flourished within the last thirty years, are not included in our Reminiscent's estimate. The author's prepossessions and affections are evidently, (and it is natural that they should be so,) with the classics which he loved in his youth, and the actors cotemporary with himself, who have now passed from the stage. We insert the only passage, in which he particularly notices the recent, or living poets.

"The most eminent poets of our own times are confessedly Cowper, Lord Byron, Sir Walter Scott, and Southey. The true poetic character is spread over all their poems: those of Cowper are particularly set off by a general tinge of religious and moral melancholy, which adds to their effect; but a multitude of his lines are rough,-a multitude, prosaic; this renders the perusal of them a task, and the pleasure which attends it does not always compensate the labour. It is surprising that Southey, who has written and still writes so much, should, as in his Don Roderick, have written so well. Lord Byron's poems contain many passages of great sublimity and pathos, and many of exquisite gayety and humour; but he is too frequently obscure, and too often, while the attention is exerted in discovering his meaning, his exquisite poetry evaporates. Sir Walter Scott's poems abound with passages of the highest splendour and animation: he carries

* We would oppose Collins to J. B. Rousseau. The French would then have no one to oppose to Gray.

his reader into the scenes which he describes, and makes him partake of their agitation. An antiquarian picturesque is frequently introduced, which, particularly to those who are skilled in antiquarian lore, has an indescribable charm; but his ease is not always laboured, and the mind of the reader is too much employed in endeavouring to understand his story, and follow the clue of his narrative, to be uniformly alive to the charm of his poetry. May we not apply both to him and Lord Byron, what Cardinal de Retz says of the grand Condè, that he did not do justice to the greatness of his own merit?" We hope, and we believe, that neither has yet produced his greatest work.

It seems improbable that this hope will be realized by the production of another poem from Scott; and the harp of Byron is silent forever. But France, in her literary annals, can find no parallel for the narrative and descriptive powers of the former, or the fire and pathos and sublimity of the latter. Her language is incompetent to embody in verse the inspirations of either. The Vicompte D'Arlincourt has indeed attempted, in inflated prose, a sort of travestie on both; but has only succeeded in producing certain things, which are ridiculous per se. The works of Byron, to be expurgated by the hand of time, belong to the classics of his country; and it is no rash prediction, that posterity will rank them with those of Milton and Spencer and Shakspeare-with the great original poets of a land, prolific in 'immortal verse.' Whether he died too soon or too late, as regards the greatness of his fame, is a question, which it were idle now to agitate.

Mr. Butler has had constantly in view, through life, the situation of his Catholic brethren; and has devoted much of his time and talents to the assertion of their claims upon the good faith, as well as the professed liberal spirit of the British parliament. The list of his writings on this subject, and on others connected with the history of the church and its defenders, proves his persevering zeal and unwearied industry. He has had the satisfaction of co-operating with men, whose eloquence was felt, and whose appeals were not to be answered, except on the ground of a doubtful policy. Genius and argument have, however, hitherto but slowly advanced the cause of Catholic emancipation. As the natural friends of liberal feelings and liberal government over all the world, the people of this country must sympathise with the author in the hope he indulges, that another generation may see this cause triumphant.

The most edifying parts of this work are those in which the writer comments, cursorily, on the laws of France and England, and speaks of the eminent lawyers, with whose history and character his professional associations have made him familiar. We shall venture on another extract, from his cha