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to such a degree, that she survived little more than a week | stated, that the person who dreamed the dream is now alive ; or ten days.

the witnesses to whom he made known the particulars of it at “ In the night of the’llth of May, 1812, Mr Williams of the time are also living; and the whole comes, therefore, Scorrior House, near Redneath, in Cornwall, awoke his under the denomination of a special and undoubted type or wife, and exceedingly agitated, told her that he had dreamed warning of what afterwards happened. The great respectthat he was in the lobby

of the House of Commons, and saw ability of the parties, who are ready (as they have assured a man shoot with a pistol a gentleman who had just entered the author) to make oath on the subject, sets aside every the lobby, who was said to be the Chancellor ; to which Mrs appearance of wishing to impose upon public credulity. It Williains naturally replied that it was only a dream, and is here recorded as a matter of fact, which may cause the recommended him

to be composed, and go to sleep as soon sceptic to pause ere he pronounces all dreams as the offspring as he could. He did so; but shortly after he again awoke her, of the imagination, or the effects of bodily infirmities."and said that he had, a second time, had the same dream; P. 30-5. whereupon she observed that he had been so much agitated The question being then settled beyond a doubt that with his former dream, that she supposed it had dwelt on dreams are prophetic, what a treasure did not the Editor his mind, and begged of him to compose himself, and go to

of this book discover when he found the ancient and cusleep, which he did. A third time the same vision was repeated, on wbich, notwithstanding her entreaties that he

rious manuscript, entitled The Regal Boke of would'lie quiet and endeavour to forget it, he arose, then be- Dreemes ; a marvellous and faythefule expounder of tween one and two o'clock, and dressed himself. At break

ryghte visiones.” We have seen nothing like it. The fast, the dreams were the sole subjects of conversation, and oracles are the truest we ever met with. We have tried in the forenoon Mr Williams went to Falmouth, where he them again and again, and they have never get deceived related the particulars of them to all his acquaintances that We consult the book the first thing we do every he met. On the following day, Mr Tucker, of Kematon

morning; and we advise all our readers to do the same, Castle, accompanied by his wife, a daughter of Mr Williams, called at Scorrior House, when Mr Williams be

unless they have greater confidence in a tea-cup and saugan to relate to Mr Tucker the circumstances of his

cer, which is an excellent invention also. dream, and Mrs Williams observed to her daughter Mrs Tucker, laughingly, that her father could not even suffer Mr Tucker to be seated before he told him of his noc

The Undying One, and other Poems. By the Honourable turnal visitation; on the statement of which, Mr Tucker

Mrs Norton. London. Colburn and Bentley. 1830. observed, that it would do very well for a dream to have We have not yet had time to prepare a review of this the Chancellor in the House of Commons, but that he work. The following extracts from it, however, will be would not be found there in reality. And Mr Tucker then asked what sort of a man he appeared to be, when Mr Wil-read with interest and pleasure. The two first are of a liams described him minutely; to which Mr Tucker re

grave and sentimental character. plied, “ Your description is not at all that of the Chancellor, “ None remember thee! thou whose heart but is certainly very exactly that of Mr Perceval, the Chan.

Pour'd love on all around; cellor of the Exchequer; and though he has been to me the Thy name no anguish can impartgreatest enemy I have ever met with through life,' (for a

'Tis a forgotten sound. supposed cause, which had no foundation in truth, or words Thine old companions pass me by to that effect,). I should be exceedingly sorry indeed to hear With a cold bright smile and a vacant eye, of his being assassinated, or of any injury of the kind hap

And none remember thee, pening to him.'

Save me ! “Mr Tucker then enquired of Mr Williams if he bad ever seen Mr Perceval, and was told that he had never seen him, “ None remember thee! thou wert not nor had ever written to him, either on public or private bu

Beauteous as some things are ; siness; in short, that he had never any thing to do with No glory beam'd upon thy lot, him, nor had he ever been in the House of Commons in his

My pale and quiet star. lifetime. At this moment, Mr Williams and Mr Tucker, Like a winter bud that too soon hath burst, still standing, heard a horse gallop to the door of the house, Thy cheek was fading from the first and immediately after, Mr Michael Williams of Trevince

And none remember thee, (son of Mr Williams of Scorrior) entered the room, and said

Save me! he had galloped out from Truro, (from which Scorrior is seren miles distant,) having seen a gentleman there who “ None remember thee ! they could spy had come by that evening's mail from town, who said that

Nought, when they gazed on thee, he was in the lobby of the House of Commons on the even

But thy soul's deep love in thy quiet eyeing of the 11th, when a man, called Bellingham, had shot

It hath pass'd from their memory. Mr Perceval; and that, as it might occasion some great The gifts of genius were not thine, ministerial changes, and might affect Mr Tucker's political Proudly before the world to shine friends, he had come out as fast as he could to make him ac

And none remember thee, quainted with it, having heard, at Truro, that he had passed

Save me! through that place in the afternoon in his way to Scorrior. “ After the astonishment which this intelligence created

« None remember thee! now thou'rt gone, had a little subsided, Mr Williams described most minutely

Or they could not choose but weep, the appearance and the dress of the man that he saw in his

When they think of thee, my gentle one, dream fire the pistol at the Chancellor. About six weeks

In thy long and lonely sleep. after, Mr Williams, having business in town, went, accom

Fain would I murmur ihy name, and tell panied by a friend, to the House of Commons, where, as

How fondly together we used to dwellhas been already observed, he had never before been. Im

But none remember thee, mediately that he came to the steps, at the entrance of the

Save me!" lobby, he said, “This place is as distinctly within my recollection, in my dream, as any room in my house;' and he

“ We have been friends together, made the same observation when he entered the lobby. He

In sunshine and in shade; then pointed out the exact spot where Bellingham actually

Since first beneath the chestnut trees stood when he fired, and which Mr Perceval had reached

In infancy we play'd; when he was struck by the ball where he fell. The dress

But coldness dwells within thy heart, both of Mr Perceval and Bellingham agreed with the de

A cloud is on thy brow : scription given by Mr Williams, even to the most minute

We have been friends togetherparticulars.

Shall a light word part us now? “ The foregoing dream is the more marvellous and astonishing, on account of the striking conformity of its details

“ We have been gay together; to those of a contemporaneous event, which was performed

We have laugh'd at little jests; nearly three hundred miles from the person of the dreamer.

For the fount of hope was gushing Moreover, to silence all those doubts, which those who fancy

Warm and joyous in our breasts. they can theorize upon dreams continually offer to the pub

But laughter now hath fled thy lip, lic, when any thing of the kind becomes realised, it must be

And sullen glooms thy brow;

We have been gay together

Shall a liglit word part us now?
“We have been sad together,

We have wept with bitter tears,
O'er the grass-grown graves, where slumber'd

The hopes of early years.
The voices which are silent there

Would bid thee clear thy brow;
We have been sad together-

Oh! what shall part us now?” That Mrs Norton possesses versatility of genius, and an excellent perception of the humorous, is sufficiently established by the following amusing jeu-d'esprit.

Ile took it amiss that I
The defects of his form should spy.
Perchance he had borne a few jeers
On the purple hue of his ears;
But to say that his legs were small !
Oh! his heart's blood was turn'd to gall.
So, leaving his bottle, he swore
That he never would enter my door.
And I chuckled within my own heart,
Snapp'd my fingers, and saw him depart:
But, alas ! now I've lost him, I find
There was no one so much to my mind.
I have now got a good-temper'd fellow-
But he tells me my face is grown yellow.
I have now got a new friend that's clever-
But he's brewing his good things for ever :
Another, who talks at a rate
That is frightful, of church and of state,
And never will give in a jot,
Though you reason and bawl till you're hot :
Another-but why should I bring
Of friends, as of onions, a string
To my dinners, except that I feel
No number can make a Joe Steel!
When they're lively, I think it a bore;
When they're silent, I miss him the more.
I miss him when I would recall
Some fact of my youth to them all.
Not one of my friends seems to care
If I once had a head of black hair-
Not one of them seems to believe
How the pretty girls once used to grieve
When they miss'd me amongst them,-Oh! no,
I can have no friend equal to Joe!
I miss his round, red, surly face
I miss his short legs from their place-
I miss him- I'm growing quite sad ;
I think my old port is turn'd bad-
I miss him and draw this conclusion,
(Though others may think it delusion,)
That, with all their worst faults at their back,
(And I'm sure poor Joe Steel had a pack,)
Though they never can alter or mend,

There's no friend like a very old friend!” We shall give our readers some more extracts, and a fuller account of this work, next week.

DESCRIPTION OF A LOST FRIEND, " Lost--nenr the 'Change in the city, (I saw there a girl that seemed pretty,)

Joe Steel,' a short, cross-looking varlet, With a visage as red as scarlet : His nose and chin of a hue Approaching nearly to blue: With legs just the length and no more, That will trot him from door to door; And a most capacious paunch, Fed with many a venison haunch. Whoever will bring the same To a tailor's of the name Of Patterson, Watson, and Co., Shall receive a guinea or so. And that all may understand, And bring him safe to hand, I subjoin as well as I can The character of the man. He's a grumpy sort of a fellow Till liquor has made him mellow; The sort of man who never Wishes your guests to be clever When he's ask'd to come and dine, But only wants his wine. He is but a stupid ass Even when he's fill'd his glass, And emptied it too, a dozen Times, with some civil cousin. I don't remember his saying Aught that meant more than braying. We met and we talked together Of politics and the weather, Of the taxes and the king, And that silly sort of thing; But he never would give an opinion As to the sort of dominion He should like to live under, if we To think of such things were free. He said it was all speculation, More harm than good to the nation. Ile wouldn't abuse the Commons, Nor admire a pretty woman's Ankle, that tripp'd through the park When it wasn't light or dark. Laugh at him-he turn'd sour; Talk gravely-his brow would lour. Sometimes he wish'd to grow fat (I'm sure it was needless, that) When he was over-led, Or out of spirits, he said. Sometimes he wish'd to be thin, (When he pour'd fresh spirits in): But he never, when we were alone, Said any thing new of his own. The merrier you were, the more He grumbled, and fumed, and swore; The happier you were, the less He cared for your happiness. We never agreed for a day, Except when one was away. And meeting too often of late, It was my peculiar fate To say something bitter and bad About wives being not to be had When a bachelor got a red nose, And his short legs were shrunk in his hoseIt was witty; but cost me my friend; For being too late to amend,

Tam O'Shanter and Souter Johnny, a Poem, by Robert

Burns. Illustrated by Thomas Landseer. London, Marsh and Miller. 1830.

George CRUIKSHANK is a man of true genius. His works are not mere caricatures-mere distortions of humanity. There is soul in every thing he does ; his figures have an independent existence and worth of their own, laying aside the consideration that they are witty and malicious misrepresentations of something else. We admit the most grotesque of his creations to the privileges of entity; for there is not a scratch that does not aid in bringing out their feeling. Nor has he, even in his most exaggerated moods, ever published any thing that was valuable, solely as an extravaganza. His grouping, and the general arrangement of his pieces, always indicate a fine perception of the beautiful; as, witness even that most violent of all his caricatures, his illustration of the organ of philoprogenitiveness. But more than this, his individual figures are often fine conceptions. We seldom meet with such an elegant expression of the most triumphant gentlemanly malice, as in the husband welcoming the safe arrival of the fat Cardinal at his wife's apartment, in the first part of the Points of Humour; or with a finer woman than his Miss Jenny, in his latest publication. In addition to these qualifications, he is undoubtedly the best illustrator we have. He enters so completely into the mind and feelings of his author, as to identify himself with them. Almost every painter has a certain character by which we recognise his figures Cruikshanks is not exempt from this. But his illustrations of any author are all a character peculiar to thein

selves-differing from his original works, and from each The plates in which Tam himself is introduced, are other. The Jolly Beggars are not like the House that four in number the alehouse scene—the first view of Jack Built, nor are the Scenes from Bath like either the Alloway Kirk--the peep through the window-and the one or the other.

gaining the keystane of the brig. We shall first examine Bat what has this to do with Thomas Landseer ? the characters throughout, and then speak to the merits Much. The success of Cruikshank- or, to select a more of the different pictures. In the scene of his jovialty we generous motive-the desire to emulate what they felt to can recognise no other expression in Tam's face than a be excellent, has stirred up a number of artists to work maudlin grin of delight at the landlady ;-on seeing the in the same style. George Cruikshank may now be con- kirk apparently in a blaze, he looks as if painted from a sidered as standing at the head of a school ; but, as is ge- Sadler's Wells representative of the tailor riding to BrentDerally the case with imitators, it is only the outside that ford ;---in the kirk, we can see by his parted lips that he they are capable of apprehending. It is much easier to is roaring, and nothing more; when clearing the bridge, wear a blue surtout and wbite nether integuments, than he reminds us of the face, in some old caricature, of a to plan the passage of the Douro. And it is much easier clown terrified by a turpip-lantern. There is no indito caricature humanity with a sketchy graver, than to viduality of character in Landseer's Tam. We see a man produce such works as George Cruikshank's.

laughing,--struggling against the wind,-roaring, and The number of pretty little books, with sixteen pages in a horrible fright, but we see nothing more of him, and of letter-press, and half-a-dozen engravings in this style, there is not even any very strong reason for saying it is the which have of late been published at various prices from same person in all these situations. It may be remarked one shilling to half-a-crown--is quite astonishing. Mon- here that the vignette, intended to represent Tam, may sieur Tonson, Monsieur Nongtongpaw, Tom King, Tam pass for an Irishman (fed up for a show) Aourishing his O'shanter, and a host of others, have come pouring upon shillelah, or for some English drunkard, pot-valiant from us in quick and dazzling succession. Now, we are far the White Horse, but it has nothing of the Scoteh farmer from wishing to deny that the authors of the illustrations in it. The figure next in prominence to Tam is Cuttyin these little works are men of spirit and talent. We sark, who appears in two of the illustrations. The "winmerely mean to say, that if they have abandoned a style some wench and walie” of Burns is metamorphosed in of their own, to adopt what they believe to be that of Mr Landseer's hands to something not unlike one of Cruikshank, they have allowed a good substantial hock Fuseli's most fantastic fays. Her waist is compressed to of bread to swim down the water, while they have been a gossamer thread—her legs are “ winnle-straes," and snapping at the moonshine in it. We feel ourselves called she is placed in the attitude of a frog, which some goodupon to set them right in this particular, partly by a fool-for-nothing urchin has “spang-hewit."* The idea must ish pity for them, and partly in virtue of our office, by have presented itself to the artist while labouring under our assumption of which we are pledged to tell people a night mare, to which recollections of some opera-dancer disagreeable truths.

gave a visible form. Such a creature could never have With respect to Robert, the brother of George-the made a Carrick farmer “ tyne his reason a'thegither." perpetrator of the greater number of that class of works In the print where she is represented plucking off the we are speaking of—we do not mean to quarrel with him. horse's tail, she is a mere hideous phantasma. Neither He has assisted his brother in a great many of his pro- Landlord, Landlady, nor Souter-the only other promiductions, and has worked himself into his manner. He nent personages-suggest any further remark than that is exactly like him, except that he is a great deal feebler. the two males are exaggerated and the female wooden. They are to each other in such a degree of resemblance as Viewed as a composition, the first of these pictures does Byron's living and dead Greece. When you see one of not afford any great scope for remark. The figures are Robert's works,

well arranged, but the strong contrast of narrow patches

of deep shade and strong light gives an unpleasing and You start, for soul is wanting there."

unsubstantial effect. The action of the horse, in the seAs, however, Robert never had any manner of his own, cond print, is spirited, the light from Kirk Alloway well bor most probably would have had so good a one as he managed, and the accessories judicious; but there is a has got but for the sedulous care with which he formed want of keeping betwixt the quiet of the sky and the himself upon his brother, we may spare ourselves the racket among the trees, indicative of the cause why Tam trouble of preaching to him; and as he not unfrequently holds so fast by his bonnet. The lightning, too, is injudihits upon a good thought, we will take what we can get ciously managed—it seems to be striking the traveller's from him, and be thankful.

head, The scene within the kirk is the worst of all. The No such considerations occur to plead for Mr Thomas failure in two of the principal characters we have already Landseer ; and so have at him! We confine ourselves to noticed. Of Satan—a great lubberly brute,—we cannot the present work, as, by this means, our strictures will say that he seems either to “glower,” or “fidge fu' fain." be, if not so universal in their application, more intelli- There is a want of arrangement in the whole, and the gible from their speciality. To this end, we advise our effect is misty and unsatisfactory. Retzch's incantation readers to study this article, with Landseer's Illustrations scene seems to have furnished some hints. With regard of Tam O'Shanter before them; and to further this end, to the final scene, we have to remark, that the action of we advise them to purchase the book, by which advice the figures seems to us a total misconception, Tam was we secure the good-will of the publishers—a very import- hurrying on for life or death, too anxiously encouraging ant consideration in these bad times. It is no shame to his steed, to have time even bad he dared to look beany Englishman that he is unacquainted with Scottish hind. The witch, in attempting to detain the steed becharacter. Even an artist cannot be expected to seize it fore it overleaped the boundaries of her empire, wrenched by intuition. But it argues something of presumption off the tail which she had seized for this purpose. The in one who is totally ignorant of it, to pretend to illus- action here is simple, natural, and intense. In Landseer's trate a Scottish tale. Mr Landseer is, we presume, one print, these three great requisites are wanting. Tam of those unfortunate Cockneys who have been taught, by looks back like a paralysed lubberly clown, roaring out, their nurse, that the Celtic Society is Scotland. Else he as if that could avail him ; while Nanny stands on the would scarcely have introduced a creature in the High-mare's hock, making faces at him, and pulling out the land garb into an Ayrshire alehouse, where such an inde- hair of the beast's tail by repeated handfuls. This is tocent exhibition has not been known for centuries. But this, and some other inaccuracies, we will forgive, if, on * An amiable pastime of our well-trained Scottish schoolboys. A a farther examination, we find any thing of the fire and frog is placed on one end of a board, which is balanced over another

placed upright; the opposite end is struck smartly, and froggie sent fervour of genius in his composition,

ilting into the air,


tally devoid of the tragic earnestness with which Burns has question. It is to be hoped, that the other minor reviewers embued even his grotesque personale.— The froutispiece, and magazine-writers who have attacked him, will be so we find, is meant to embody these lines,

polite as to permit my marshalling their more light-armed

squad of reasonings under these Coriphæi.” “ Our sulky sullen dame,

Mr Clarkson has argued his side pretty well ; but his Gathering her brows like gathering storm,

pamphlet is a piece of special pleading from beginning to Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.”

end, and, as such, much more ingenious than sound. Until we consulted the page and line to which we are referred, the character and expression of the female figure, the howling attitude of one dog, and the snufiling of the Four Years Residence in the West Indies. By F. W. other, togetber with the visionary cauldron almost enve N. Bayley. London. 1830. loped in smoke, had impressed us with the idea that this

There is a good deal of amusing gossip in this book, was an original design by Landseer, intended to repre- plenty of flippancy, and a considerable quantity of nambysent a witch preparing for her aerial flight.


We make one extract : It seems to us to result from these remarks, that Mr Landseer is an artist of considerable skill, with occasional indications of power, but that he has attempted a line in « Literature in the West Indies is at a low ebb. Book. which he is not fitted to succeed. The most grotesque of sellers are hardly known, and books little patronised. George Cruikshank's figures are, in one sense, true and Reading is by no means a favourite amusement among real—they embody his vivid feelings, and no more. Mr the inhabitants. Many of the planters and private genLandseer bas no such intensity in his character, and de- tlemen have tolerable libraries, and superb bookcases to signs his exaggerations, knowing and feeling them to be contain them ; but I am inclined to think that the valuasuch. The consequence is, that, far from being amusing, ble volumes, cased, as they generally are, in gilt calf, or they are cold and hollow. Why will he attempt to make Russia, are more for ornament than use ; they contribute himself what nature never meant him for ? Fields of to furnish the rooms, but very little to improve the unart, at least as fair, lie within his reach.

derstanding, of the West Indians ; the fact is, the climate is too hot for study, and their minds are too much fa

tigued with the cares of business to lead them to seek for Robert Montgomery and his Reviewers. With some Re- relaxation in any but very light reading, and very little marks on the Present State of English Poetry, and on

even of that. Were I asked, I should give it as my opi. the Laws of Criticism. By Edward Clarkson. Lon- nion, that the coloured people read more than any other don. James Ridgway. 1830. Pp. 164.

class of inhabitants in the Antilles. They have an innate

desire for information, and a wish to acquire knowledge, This is an attempt to bolster up Mr Montgomery's re

which is always most praiseworthy, and very often most putation, to put oourt plaster upon all his wounds, and

successful. pour down his throat a little of the cordial Balm of Gilead,

The publications printed in the West Indies are seldom to make up for the bitters he has been obliged to swallow any other than newspapers and almanacks. Of the former, of late. We cannot have the slightest objection to Mr there are usually two published in each island; though Edward Clarkson thinking Mr Montgomery the first of in Jamaica, Barbadoes

, and the larger colonies, there are bards, and shall not therefore set ourselves to controvert

perhaps more. In these, the leading articles are some of his arguments. If his opinions are conscientious, which them well written, the political remarks strong and indethey, no doubt, are, he is the denizen of a free country, pendent, and the general arrangement of matter often and let him retain them by all means. Of all Mr Montgomery's critics, he has singled out two, and thinks that talent, however, varies greatly in the different islands;

considerable, and seldom uninteresting. The standard of if he answers them he does quite enough. These two are

and there are a few that display a vast saperiority over Fraser's Magazine and the Edinburgh Literary Journal. the rest. Among these, I think I may number the St His reasons for paying us this compliment are expressed Vincent Gazette, by Drape, in which the articles are in the following fair and handsome terms :

generally as well written as they are badly printed, ex“ The London Literary Gazette is opposed, on this occa- hibiting vast talent but little care ; and the St George's sion, to the Edinburgh Literary Journal; and Fraser's Chronicle, in which both care and talent are mingled to a Magazine to the Imperial. Many others have laboured hard to show the venomous potency of their criticisms ; but very creditable degree. it would be mercy to let them rest in oblivion, distinguish

"The almanacks are commonly of two kinds; one printed as they are for nought but their intrinsic' want of pre-ed on a sheet for pasting up in the counting-houses of the ponderance, when weighed against the all but uniform de- merchants, and one in a small volume-containing a good cision of the town and provincial press. Among other con deal of useful information for the pocket. trasts, I might have opposed the Edinburgh Literary Ga “The almanacks published in Grenada are the most perzetle* to the Dublin Literary Gazette; but without calling fect that have yet appeared, both for the elegance of their into question their relative talents, this would only uselessly enlarge the field of enquiry. It is not for the sake of giving typography and the usefulness of their contents; that undue importance to Fraser's Magazine and the Edinburgh printed by Baker is illustrated by a neat lithographic Literary Journal, that I confine myself, in this section of drawing, and he deserves great credit for having been the my subject, to them, but because, first, they are really the first to produce one with such an embellishment. most talented of all Montgomery's assailants; second, they “ I have often thought that a good monthly periodical concentrate all the charges which the others bring against would do well in the West Indies; but I have been told him, and thereby save me the trouble, and the reader the that, where the attempt has been made, it has usually irksomeness, of a devious chase after various literary insects, which, after all, it might be deemed unmanly to crush; proved unsuccessful, from having fallen into personalities,

so generally disliked, and yet so difficult to be avoided, in • Who breaks a butterfly upon the wheel ?'

a small community.” Again, these two periodicals are appealed to by their friends with shouts of triumph, as the most able and triumphant of Mr Montgomery's adversaries—as, in short, settling the A Guide and Pocket Companion through Italy.


William Cathcart Boyd, M.D. London. Whittaker. * The Edinburgh Literary Gazette is a publication of so extremely

1830. limited a circulation, that we seldom hear of it, and are indeed uncertain whether it is still going on. Its chief pretensions consisted in

A Capital travelling companion, on a new plan, to the affecting to deny a knowledge of our existence.

sunny clime of Italy, This “ Guide” describes the usual

grand tours, gives the posts and distances, rates of post- steps by which we ascended from the street to the door

ing, monies, expenses of living, directions and hints to of our dwelling. A bean had dropped into it by accident, = travellers, and a brief description of the most interesting and finding a small portion of earth at the bottom, had

objects of antiquity, as catalogues (Mr Boyd tells us) of struck out roots and leaves. This was a treasure, but the paintings and statuary are always to be had for a one day some heavy-footed monster trampled upon itmere trifle, at the different towns. We think this hand- it withered. Not Jack himself, had he seen his miracusome little pocket-companion may be referred to with lous bean-stalk cut down as he was about to attempt his confidence. There is a new feature, too, in this work ; voyage of discovery to its summit, could have suffered Dr Boyd's medical hints will be found valuable to the more than I did. traveller The typography of the book does credit to When about ten years of age, it was judged expedient

the London press, and a correct map of Italy accompa to send me to a school at some distance from home ; and z nies it. A few pictorial embellishments would not have there I at last attained what I had so long ardently co

been amiss in a work so worthy of our best recommenda- veted. Each boy had a border allotted to him in the tion.

master's large garden, which he was allowed to manage according to his own fancy. Was I not happy? I felt,

as I stood in my little territory, the first dawnings of A Companion to the Lakes of Cumberland, Westmoreland, the pride and pleasure of ownership. I watched with un

and Lancashire; in a Descriptive Account of a Family wearying interest the progress of every plant from its apTour, and Excursions on Horseback and on Foot. Se- pearance above the soil, till I collected its ripe seed. "I cond Edition. By Edward Baines, Jun. London. changed continually the arrangement of my flowers. My Hurst, Chance, and Co. 1830. 12mo. Pp. 312. leisure moments, my little pocket money, all were devoted

Me Baines has succeeded in combining in this volume to my garden. There was a tall tree in the centre of it. the accuracy of a Guide-Book, with the liveliness and in- During summer, I used to con my tasks, or read Robinterest of a Personal Narrative. In the present edition,

son Crusoe, seated up among the branches. My favourite he has made some judicious alterations and useful addi passages were those that described Robinson's horticultutions. Knowing something of the districts of which it ral attempts. treats, we are the better able to recommend the volume

Old fool that I am! What bas carried me back just 2 with confidence to our readers.

now to the days of my boyhood, and set me to describe childish trifles with an eager and accurate gravity, as strongly contrasted with the trifling objects of descrip

tion, as the wonderful wealth of art lavished by some History in all Ages. London, printed for the Proprie- Flemish painters upon their pictures of still life, with tors of Publications on Christian Principles. Joseph the meanness of the pots and pans which compose them? Ogle Robinson. 1830. 12mo. Pp. 520.

Strange how trifles will at times assume a burlesque imThe object of this work is to present an accurate sum- portance in our estimation! I have experienced many mary of the history of the world. It is written in the

crosses of life, but at this moment none touches me so shape of question and answer, and seems well adapted for nearly as that it has never been in my power to indulge the use of schools, and young people in general.

my passion for gardening. That little spot of groundmy first, my only garden-stands out with a brightness among the recollections of my life, akin to that which,

in the mind of our first father, must have attached itself MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

to the only spot where he tasted unalloyed happiness.

I have, however, in the course of my life, managed to A CHAPTER ON GARDENS AND GARDENERS.

derive much enjoyment from the conversation of gardeners, and from lounging about in the gardens of others.

Bartoline Saddletree was never happy but when he was I Have a love for every thing in the shape of a garden. in the Parliament House, seeing causes managed, if he Even that little square plot at the back of my house, had none to manage himself. I bave known people to which from the narrowness of its superficies, and the whom the monthly perusal of the Sporting Magazine was height of its walls, looks not unlike a draw-well, and a sufficient succedaneum for their inability to join in the where a few straggling blades of grass find with difficulty sports of the field. Every body has at times met with air and sunshine enough to keep them alive, has a corner younkers who wear spurs on Sunday, and who, in my affections. This love I am inclined to regard as

“ When the circling glass warms their vain heads, in some sort an elementary feeling-an innate attach

Can talk of horses which they never cross'd, ment, born with me, and wanting but the presence of a

And fancy fox-hunts where they ne'er shall ride." suitable object to call it into full activity. From the first moment I knew what a garden was, I felt a long- I acknowledge myself to be free of the corporation of ing for some patch of earth, however small, where I “ Would-be's,”—one of those who long for what they can might turn up the mould, and plant and water.

It was

never have, and seek at times to cheat themselves, by long before I had an opportunity of indulging my in- dint of conversing with the more fortunate, into a balf belination. Window-boxes were recommended ; but they lief that their wishes are attained. A more innocent selfproved sorry substitutes. I could not stand in them. delusion than mine can scarcely well be. There was a cellar in my mother's house in which the They are a pleasant set of fellows, your gardeners—both rotatoes were kept. One or two of them had rolled into the professional gentlemen and the amateurs. The for| corner, and having lain there unnoticed for a length of mer in particular are less known than they deserve to be. ime, they shot out, at last, some long white runners. They belong, in virtue of their breeding and employment, These could scarcely be called vegetation--they were co to the labouring classes; but there is something in the ourless and leafless—but they were something growing, scenes by which they are surrounded, and in the objects nd upon the ground, and I watched them as a florist upon which their labour is expended, calculated to awaken rould do his rarest flower. Our housemaid was one of the sentiments of romance, and the aspirings after knowhose unfortunate persons who are troubled with a pro- ledge, which are in general trodden down and stifled by ensity to tidiness, and one day when I was at school, the dull routine of mechanical exertion.

When was a le swept away my subterraneous garden bodily. I wept, grocer ever known to have his love of learning excited by nd refused to be comforted; till one day I observed a a curiosity to know the natural history of the articles he reen leaf protruding through a chink between the two deals in? But where shall we find a gardener who las


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