Tales of the Early Ages. By the Author of " Brambletye House," &c. 3 Vols. Colburn and Bentley.

The notice which we gave last week of this curious and variegated work, was accompanied with an extract from its pages; but we recur to it for the sake of offering to our readers another specimen of its stores, which we think they will hardly do otherwise than accept with pleasure. It is a passage which includes as poetical a description as we recollect to have seen given, of a very singular locality.

While they were thus discoursing, the moon rose above the rock in which they were ensconced, throwing such bright lights and deep shades upon the fantastic crags before them, that their confused masses seemed to be alternately compounded of ivory and ebony, or rather to resemble the lighted billows of the ocean. Aaron, still cherishing a notion that they would emerge from this mountain pass upon the neighbourhood of Ramath Succoth, asked his daughter whether she felt sufficiently strengthened by the rest she had taken to resume their journey, and upon her answering in the affirmative, they quitted the chasm, and advanced in the same direction as before, Mariamne shrinking from the sound of her own voice, as if it were irreverent to break the deep solemn silence of night and nature. Soon, however, she noticed with satisfaction that they began to descend, and that the rocks gradually diminished in height, whence she concluded that they would shortly come upon the open country. This they did even sooner than they expected, suddenly finding themselves upon a rugged slope, that shelved down to a vast mass of waters, dimly gleaming with a sickly yellow lustre, and shut into their dungeon by wild haggard precipices on every side. Shield and protect us, O Jehovah Tsebaioth!' ejaculated Aaron' stopping short, and arresting his daughter by his arm, I know where we are now, and we must indeed have wandered far to the eastward, for lo! my child, the waters before us are the dead Lake Asphaltitis, the spot upon which once stood the five accursed cities of the Canaanites that were destroyed with fire; and see!-behold! -mark you not yonder pale column, sending its dreary shadow down to the water's edge? It is the Pillar of Salt, into which Lot's wife was turned for her disobedience !'

"Although this frightful lake was within a trifling distance of Jerusalem, it was rarely visited by any of the Israelites, not only on account of its desolate and revolting character, but from the fear-fraught associations connected with it. It was considered sinister and ominous, almost profane, to intrude wantonly upon a spot which Heaven had smitten with such a terrible vengeance, and cursing it with irremediable sterility, had condemned it to everlasting execration and solitude. Participating fully in this general feeling, the hearts of the travellers thrilled with fear and awe as they gazed upon the Dead Sea, wearing a ghastly hue in the wan light of the moon, and lying, as it were, in a sepulchre of rocks, with the silenee and loneliness of death all round about it. Not a breath of air was felt; not a wave rippled; the whole mass looked like molten copper; not a blade of grass grew upon the shore, or upon the rocks; no object moved-no sound was heard. Something terrific hung over the spot, as if nature, in this scene of desolation, had suffered a violent and dreadful death, and presented to the spectator her ghastly corpse. Even the moonlight assumed a sickly tone: the rocks took hideous and appalling shapes; and the spectral column of salt, with all its dread reminiscences, comgleted the portentous and withering solemnity of the scene. For a while Aaron and his danghter remained immoveable, grasping one another, and gazing before them with a mingled reverence and fear which, almost suspending their breath, became still more incense when dark masses of bituminous matter, somewhat resembling human bodies, slowly upheaved themselves from the waters, and exploded with a noise resembling dismal groans. So startling and mysterious was the aspect of these apparitions, so appalling the uneartly sound they emitted, that Mariamne, in an agitated whisper, entreated her father to return immediately amid the rocks. To this proposal he willingly acceden, observing that they might pass the night in some such sheltered ncok as that to which they had previously betaken themselves, and that, as he now knew the bearings of the country, he had no doubt they would be easily enabled to find Ramah Succoth in the morning.

"A recess, tolerably well adapted to their purpose, was soon

discovered, and the way-worn travellers having first committed themselves to the protection of heaven, at length sank to sleep. Mariamne's slumbers, however, were disturbed by a hideous dream, suggested doubtless by the scene she had so lately witnessed. She imagined herself to be standing once more upon the borders of the Dead Sea, at the borders of which, so transparent were the waters, she could plainly distinguish the five submerged cities, their towers, temples, palaces, and dwellinghouses, all scathed and blackened by the evening fire that fell from heaven. From the ruined portals of these buildings, spectres and skeletons, wearing the garb of kings, priests, nobles and others, came forth in ghastly procession, and floating upward to the surface of the waters, groaned with sepulchal voices a prayer to heaven, imploring a remission of the pangs they were still suffering. To Mariamne's fancy this scene did not present itself at moonlight, but in the face of day. The sun, however, appeared to throw over the lake and its encircling rocks a dull baneful glare as of an eclipse, all nature seemed aghast and horror-stricken, the groans of the phantom figures poured into her ear, and fell upon her heart with a harrowing loudness, and as she turned her eyes aside towards the margin of the sea, the pillar of salt heaving and rocking, as if slowly animated with life, gradually assumed a distorted human form, upstretched its petitioning arms to the sky, and uttered a shriek of anguish that seemed to pierce, as with a sharp instrument, the very nerve of the sleeper's ears.

"The cry of terror with which Mariamne instantly reponded to this fearful creation of her dream, awoke both herself and her father, to whom she related the cause of her agitation, still trembling vehemently, and clinging to him for protection. Some time elapsed before she could again compose herself, but she at length sank into sleep, and her slumbers remained unbroken till the morning."

Aldine Poets, Vol. XX. The Poems of Shakspeare. 8vo. London, 1832: Pickering.

The taste of the age is materially altered since a commentator upon the Bard of Avon pronounced that an Act of Parliament would be necessary to compel the public to read the Poems of Shakspeare. These productions have been narrowly examined, and found strewn with beauties-not quite so thickly, perhaps, as his plays are; but still in such numbers as would alone establish an undying fame. The Sonnets, which were the especial objects of the commentator's contempt, have been justly elevated to the highest rank in public estimation, and pronounced by competent judges, as the best in the language; some have, indeed, considered them as second to Milton's productions of the same class--but to Milton's only. Foreign critics, who are among the most discriminating of the great bard's admirers, have also awarded the highest mead of praise to these sweet poems.

The present beautiful edition of them is ushered in by a biographical sketch of Shakspeare, from the pen of the Rev. Alexander Dyce, who has exhibited good diligence in collecting his materials, and good taste in using them; but has, as he himself observes, found little more to say of the subject of his labours, than George Steevens had very summarily said before him. "All that is known with any degree of certainty regarding Shakspeare, is-that he was bon at Stratford upon Avon-married and had children there-went to London, where he commenced actor, and wrote poems and plays, returned to Stratford, made his will, died, and was buried.

Had our limits permitted us, we should gladly have quoted Mr. Dyce's observations, with specimens of the sonneteers previous to Shakspeare; but we have barely room to recommend to our readers this most interesting and beautiful edition of the first efforts of Britain's greatest bard.

Letters on Dancing, reducing this elegant and healthful exercise to easy scientifle principles. By E. A. Theleur. London, 1832. Sherwood and Co. 4to. pp. 104.

The publication of a dissertation on the saltatorial art appears to us to be a new step in the profession. Whether or not we are right in this conjecture, we feel sure that we are quite so in stating that Mr. Theleur bas managed this feat in such a way, as to give us a high notion of his capabilities for regulating the feet of others. We pronounce this opinion unhesitatingly, although we have never been deeply initiated into the mysteries of the art, and cannot be classed among those admirers of it who would “go to church in a galliard and come home in a corante.' But we do this, because, if we should ever extend our imitation of Socrates to his love of dancing as well as his philosophy, we should take especial care to procure the instruction of M Theleur, whose volume, with its numerous illustrative plates, ought, we think, to find a place in every “salle a danser," in the kingdom.

米吉

FINE ARTS.

EXHIBITION AT THE EGYPTIAN HALL, MR. HAYDON'S PICTURES OF XENOPHON, THE MOCK ELECTION, ETC We are happy to see Mr. Haydon's continued endeavours in the arduous and ill-compensated historic line of art, and have only to regret that now, as well as in so many former instances, he should have thought it necessary to mix up his own claims to public notice with invidious mention of others, and to disturb our pleasure in the contemplation of his works by the intrusion of those written expressions of disappointment or annoyance which, it is natural to imagine, can only tend to divert him from the profitable employment of his professional talents. We would by no means refuse our sympathy to the difficulties with which Mr. Haydon has to contend; but we are persuaded that we are not singular in disliking to have them thrust upon our notice in a Catalogue. Mr. Haydon needs to be reminded, that the dignity of art is little consistent with the querulous tone in which he is so apt to indulge.

The picture representing Xenophon and his companions in arms, which is placed foremost in this Collection, has fewer of the extravagances which have depreciated this artist's general merits than most of its predecessors. It has the vigour of conception and breadth of execution we have been accustomed to see in his performances, with a smaller admixture than usual of the coarse and the clumsy, and with less hardness of outline. In colour also it is rich, and less heavy than is Mr. Haydon's wont, but yet somewhat deficient in transparency. The figures in the fore-ground are grouped with freedom and effect, and the animation infused into them well characterises the exulting moment when the discovery of the sea gladdened the hearts of the adventurous ten thousand. The grey horse, carrying the officer who supports his wife, is splendily painted-an animal of singular beauty, transferred to the canvass with all the spirit of vitality. The action and expression of the trumpeter, conveying his noisy signals to the rear-guard, are full of character. There is, however, one figure that we cannot away with: it is the helmetless aged father, piously borne on the back of his son. He looks like Falstaff in a fit of melancholy, and appears to constitute a sadder burden than the adhesive old man who held such tedious occupation of the shoulders of Sinbad the Sailor.

The Mock Election forms the real choice, as we think, of this Exhibition. There is a certain tendency to excess or caricature in Mr. Haydon's pencil which here falls in happily with the subject itself; while the soberer part of the picture has a moral expression which is rendered exceedingly beautiful by the contrast. We shall not, however, expatiate on a composition with which so many persons have had previous opportunity of becoming familiar. We will but mention one point in regard to it-namely, the artist's omission, after painting a

figure seven feet high in relation to the rest, to mention the circumstance in his Catalogue, where he is obviously so copiously descriptive. We allude to the gentleman with the tremendous head, something between Byron and Bonaparte." The other pictures exhibited are all on a considerably smaller scale, and in general are the worse for it, as Mr. Haydon's style of handling does not include with its freedom any of the delicacy desirable in cabinet specimens. Where finish is out of the question, as in the slight sketch of Silenus intoxicated, he shows to greater advantage.

The Xenophon is, it appears, to be raffled for, when the subscription, which is in a progressive state, shall be completed. This, for the artist's sake, we hope will prove of speedy accomplishment.

+*+ MUSIC.

THE GLEE CLUB.

The Glee Club met on Saturday last, for the first time since the death of its lamented president, Mr. Groombridge. That gentleman had been an active member of the society for the period of two-and-forty years, during twenty-six of which, he never missed a single meeting of the club. After Non nobis Domine had been sung, the Chairman, J. Capel, Esq., M. P., in a feeling and appropriate speech, proposed "The memory of the late President," and an elegy by Mr. Horsley was admirably sung by all the members present. The only new glees were, one by Attwood, and one by Walmisley, with a very spirited and effective last movement.

Among the professional members present, were Horsley, Leete, Hawes, Evans, Sale, King, Bellamy, Goss, Attwood, Collyer, Walmisley, Hobbs, and Bradbury. The meeting passed off very pleasantly, although the room was changed, not much to the satisfaction of many of the members present. It was indeed a rallying day, to which, perhaps, the excellence of the dinner and wines contributed not a little. We are sure the club will find a very worthy and active successor to the late Mr. Groombridge, in the gentleman who has been called to fill the chair, and who has long been well known and esteemed by every member of the musical profession.

Madame Vestris, herself, delivered the following farewell address, which was written very trippingly and pleasantly on the occasion by Mr. Dance; several of the points were very effective, and were highly applauded.

"Ladies and Gentlemen,-the last night of our second season having arrived, I again present myself before you to take leave. I might easily do so in the set phrases which custom prescribes, but something beyond custom might reasonably be expected of me.

In my last address I undertook to win from you an admission that "the women are the best managers, after all." Ladies and Gentlemen, I have won it, and in its most pleasing and substantial form-your attendance.

"This admission has been freely given; and, the public press excepted, it has been the only admission given for this house. There has been no order in the theatre since I became its lessee, but the good order which has characterized the audiences who have done me the honour to visit it. The breath of your approving voices has been my only puff-your applause has been engraved upon my memory, not printed in my bills-and the use of the word "overflow" has been reserved to describe the feelings of a heart grateful, indeed, to overflow, for your unceasing patronage and support.

"It would be affectation to talk of doing better next season. I shall be contented if we can do as well-and so, you have taught me to believe, will you. The same style of entertainments will be presented to you, and they will be acted by the same, or nearly the same company. Above all, I am happy to be enabled to promise you the re-appearance of him who, for six months, has here reigned supreme in the kingdom of merriment-of him who is at once a pupil of nature and a master of art.

"Devils of all denominations have been struggling for the mastery at the various theatres of the metropolis, but if the success of a devil be measured by how much a 'devil takes,' assuredly ours are the most successful, for our Olympic Devils have taken more than any other.

"My last season was only three months-my present has extended to six; and, however unusual in theatrical matters, its property doubled with its extent. The old adage must explain it, last year I was only the fortunate Mistress of the Revels," this year I have had the devil's luck and my own.'

"Ladies and Gentlemen, accept my sincere and hearty thanks for the kind and unvarying support you have accorded to this establishment. and allow me to add those of the performers generally. Until October shall again bring us face to face, for the mutual exchange of mirth and good humour, I respectfully and gratefully bid you farewell."

ADELPHI THEATRE.

In the absence of theatrical matter this week. it may not be amiss to offer a few comments on Mr. Yates's Monological entertainment, called "Views of himself aud others," to which we have before only adverted in general terms. The success to which this singular species of diversion had previously attained, appears to attend Mr. Yates's efforts this season. Whether any part of this success, however, may be due to the "Tableaux vivans," to which resort has now been had, we are hardly aware. Mr. Yates's performances of " All Work," are, as before, productive of much amusement; but we must remark that the characters and portraitures which they include are of thinner and slighter composition than previously, and exhibit in their oddities somewhat less of nature.

Among the early incidents of his career, with which Mr. Yates favours us, his intercourse with Mathews makes a pleasant figure, and the imitations which he gives of that able comedian are closely ingenious. Mr. Damper Yates, and his divers discouragements of his kinsman in regard to every mode of living, are very effective. The "Christ Church Cobler" is but meagre shadow: he has no approach to reality. "Mr. Felix Fact" is not happy: his literal acceptations are pushed to an extreme, that leaves us no room for credence. The story of the Exhibitant's own simulation of sickness, in order to smuggle over a tea-pot to Boulogne, for the wife of the author of "Highways and Byways," is very diverting-and so is the description of Vauxhall and its frequenters on a rainy night -with the reservation of one point, namely, that Mr. Yates's voice, in the imitation of women and children, is so tormentingly shrill.

Mr. Yates is a vivacious, expert, and versatile mimic; yet he wants the truth, the richness, and mellowness of Mathews. He has the faults, too, of exaggeration and iteration, in no very slight degree; but with all this, his imitative qualities are sufficient to ensure him numerous admirers.

**

BREVITIES AND LEVITIES.

BLUCHER'S GALLANTRY,

A very characteristic trait of the interesting Blucher is comprised in the little incident that follows. In the year 1814, when this great bear was made such a lion of in London, he was one evening at a party, where a lady, who participated largely in the intense curiosity with which he was inspiring so many of her sex, was so far led away by her enthusiasm as to lay furtive hands on his pocket-handkerchief, which he had happened to lay down on a vacant chair. Having presently afterwards occasion to use it, he used little ceremony in demanding its restitution, when slily informed by one of the company that the lady had become its possessor. The lady, instead of returning it, and unaware of the immediate reason for the demand, presented him with a delicate scarf which had decorated her own fair neck. The substituted article was accepted by the gallant Blucher, and applied at once to the usual office of the mouchoir!

EPIGRAM ON A MAYOR THAT WAS KNIGHTED.
(NOT SIR JOHN KEY.)

To see a corporation stuff'd is surely far from rare;
And surely 'tis not strange that such should have too the
Knight Mayor.
H. L. B.

A DENTAL ANECDOTE.

An elderly gentleman, having much classical ingenuity, but only two remaining teeth (and those rather of a saffron than a white hue), was nevertheless troubled with the toothache in such a degree as compelled the extraction of one of the precious twain. The dentist (a polite man) was civil or sly enough to assert his regret at the old gentleman's loss, but was consoled by the sufferer himself, who expressed his unconcern in the following extract from Virgil:

"Uno avulso, non deficit alter aureus !”

EPIGRAM.

"Tom, you're the biggest fool I know, And I know many a foolish elf.""That may be; but your saying so, Proves that you do not know yourself."

BLUCHER A CRITIC!

T.

The following little anecdote is from an eye-witness of the occurrence. During the march of the Prussians into France, when they had some partial fighting to encounter, it chanced that a French colonel was, with his party, made prisoner near Soissons. Conducted to the quarters of General Blucher's staff, he was presented to that bluff veteran himself, who eyed him with that peculiar look, so eloquent of the savage, that belonged to him, and then accosted him with some growling inquiry or other in his own exclusive German. The Frenchman avowed, in Gallic phrase, that he did not understand German; on which the learned Blucher turned from him with sovereign scorn, and gruntingly demanded of his confederates what they thought of a man being a colonel and not knowing German!

PROGRESS OF REFINEMENT.

The keeper of a boarding-house advertised lately for a suitable person of the female sex as upper domestic, to preside over his menage. The following questions were actually propounded as preliminaries to the engagement: -" Are you

fully acquainted with all the requisites to distinguish good mutton, beef, poultry, etc. etc.? Can you undertake to carve, and to keep my company in good humour ?" Lastly

Can you play the piano, and sing for our evening entertainment? Your time will be well employed; but my salary is liberal-you will receive fifteen pounds a year! !"-No wonder our ears are assailed from every green-grocer's or chandler's back-parlour, with the thrumming of some thick. fingered shop.girl upon a worn-out and tuneless piano, if our very servants can expect advancement in their honest vocation only in proportion as they disqualify themselves for fulfilling its duties! What is the Schoolmaster about, that he doesn't whip such follies out of the age?

Part of the House of Lords was discovered in flames last week. This is not much to be wondered at, considering how much fiery matter flashed from all sides, and formed the element of the late debate. Fortunately, however, in both instances, the affair ended in smoke.

Mr. Welsh will preside at the Grand Pianoforte. Particulars will be duly announced. Tickets, 10s. 6d. each, may be had at the Rooms, the principal Music Shops, and of Mr. HOBBS, at his residence, 5, North Terrace, Mount Gardens, Lambeth.

MR. J. B. SALE'S MORNING CONCERT. Under the Patronage and in the Presence of their Royal Highnesses the DUCHESS OF KENT and the PRINCESS VICTORIA.

Mr. J. B. SALE has the honour to acquaint his Friends and the Public, that his Morning Concert will take place at the HANOVER-SQUARE ROOMS, on SATURDAY, the 5th of MAY, when the first musical talent in the country will be engaged.-Full particulars will be duly announced.

Tickets, Half-a-Guinea each, to be had of Mr. J. B. Sale, 18, St. Mary Abbott's Terrace, Kensington, and at all the principal Music shops.

A Collection of JEUX D'ESPRIT, just published by WILLIAM KIDD, 228, REGENT STREET.

I.

THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK,

A humorous story, by one of the Contributors to Blackwood's Magazine. Second Edition, price only 7s. 6d., with numerous Illustrations, by George Cruikshank.

"One of the cleverest and most amusing stories we ever met with. The illustrations are inimitable."-Literary Gazette.

II.

Price only 68. in silk, with gilt edges,
CRUIKSHANK'S COMIC ALBUM,
First Series.

Being a Collection of Humorous Tales, with upwards of Sixty
Illustrations.

"There is enough fun in this elegant little volume to dispel all the blue devils in Christendon."-Courier. "Nor can it fail to draw forth many a hearty laugh from both young and old."-Globe.

III.

CRUIKSHANK'S COMIC ALBUM, Second Series. With upwards of Sixty Illustrations. "In this unique little volume will be found an admirable bur.esque on the Unknown Tongues,' in Cruikshank's happiest vein: this alone is worth the price of the work."-Morning Post. ** The two volumes may now be had, uniformly bound, price 13s. FACETIÆ; A COLLECTION OF JEUX D'ESPRIT, 2 vols., gilt edges, price only 12s.

"A complete Encyclopædia of fun and humour."-Observer.

London: Published every Saturday Morning, for the Proprietors, by G. Cowie, 312, Strand, where Advertisements are received, and all Communications for the Editor (post paid) are to be addressed.

Cowie, Printer, Belle Sauvage Yard, Ludgate Hill.

AN ORATION ON MODERN LITERATURE,

BY THE REV. EDWARD IRVING.

[In what manner this very singular paper has come into our possession we shall not explain, except to the Reverend Mr. Irving himself, should he make inquisitorial application. We need not point out to our discerning readers how characteristically the worthy pastor's course of thought and turn of style are here exemplified. One diagnostic alone might suffice to identify the presence of his "fine Roman hand" in this composition-we mean that abundant and varied power of illustration, which constitutes him more rich in figures of every mould than all the Italian image-boys put together! Indeed, we know of no writer so fertile in tropes and such like "foreign ornament," unless it be old Burton, of "melancholy" memory

and we can only conceive this splendid paper to have been written under the immediate inspiration of Burton himself-or of Burton ale! Its design is evidently to correct the literary follies of the day. Of its success, however, we confess ourselves a little sceptical. The Oration is long-but most people are aware that the reverend gentleman is incapable of a short oration.]

IT doth appear to the mental vision of the author of this oration, that the mighty hand that holdeth the pen of learning, hath inscribed the blushing sentence of its humiliation upon every page of its childish dotage; and that the feeble garrulity of this age of letters, is the cause of the light estimation in which the lamp of knowledge is held. It beseemeth, therefore, the sedulous watchmen of the citadel of wisdom to sound the alarum of reason upon the relaxed tympanum of deluded ears. Be every good and true citizen an eye-book, a hand-book, a horn-book of instruction: his should be the ear-drum of attention, his the speaking-trumpet of warning. We shall, therefore. with our heaviest artillery,

Price 3d.

enter upon the field of warfare-with our sharpest arguments open up the question-with our most intellectual plenipotentiaries draw up a treaty for the conscience of every individual to sign with the hand and seal of truth and reason.

It appertaineth to our willing duty to speak of the power of the press-the glory of the press-the liberty of the press -the abuses of the press. Would we could give a faithful impression of the stereotype convictions of our mind, and publish them, like the daily new-born ministers of news, in the face of every political man-on the breakfast-table of every family man-in the counting-room of every commercial man-in the closet of every Christian man-in the study of every literary man-in the haunts of every scientific man-every travelling man - every idle man-every labour. ing man. Would that we could down-bear with the multitudinous waves of truthfulness the dykes of ignorance, of prejudice, of sophistry! that we could liberate the landlocked vessels of ancient lore, and float them upon its tide into the docks of the mind; that we could fill the store-houses with hogsheads of scholastic Bacon, chests of nutritious Beveridge, chambers of Coke and Blackstone! that we could show forth the patient skill of a Hooker, the strict rules and measures of a Taylor, the fitness and richness of a Spenser, the strength and bravery of a Shakspear! Where are the Baxters, and the Flavels, and the Doddridges, and the Romaines, and the Watts's of this age? Where the Newtons, the Lockes, the Addisons, and the Johnsons ?-They are not in town-they are not in the country-they are not abroad,they are dead! Their works rebuke the neglectful readers, the disdainful hearers, the scornful writers of this our degenerate day. From the dusty shelves on which they slumber, they mock the puny strength of mind, the dwarfish stretch of intellect that would reach them. Their images frown in solemn bronze upon the brazen impudence of modern empi. ricism; their hollow, awful, sacred voices are heard by the idlers who give bribes for admission to the consecrated edifice where their bones lie crushed to dust beneath the masses of sculptured stone; and thus they speak their admonitions,