But now grim shades around me press And when I seek Sleep's soft caress They haunt my wearied brain; Sweet Memory's voice alone can bring My life-spring then, in sparkling joy, I sought my joys to tell; But now 'tis choked with sordid care, "Twill never flow so fresh and fair 'Twas Spring-time then, and rosy buds Around my heart were clinging; "Tis Summer now, and yet, alas! Their flowers are not upspringing. They drooped and died before their time, And died with them my boyish hopes, Then, fare ye well, my boyish days, For in my heart the songs of home Will echo never-never; And yet I'd not be very sad, But let my soul go free, For Memory yet shall sometimes bring Those happy days to me. 12. Castles 13. Kt. to Q. B. third 14. P. to K. fifth 15. B. takes Kt. (d) 16. P. to Q. fifth 17. Kt. to Q. fourth (e) 18. Kt. P. takes P. 19. P. takes P. 12. B. to Q. Kt. second 20. K. to K. R. square 30. Kt. to K. B. third 24. K. to K. R. square 25. R. to K. Kt. square 26. Kt. to K. R. third 27. Kt. takes R. 28. R. to K. Kt. second 29. K. takes R. 30. Q. to Q. eighth (ch.) 31. Q. takes Q. (check) 32. Kt. to K. second 33. Kt, to Q. fourth 34. B. to Q. R. third 35. B. takes Kt. LITERARY NOTES. THE "order" whom Sir Bernard Burke, Ulster King-at-Arms, delights especially to honour, would positively consult their own interest, so far as character is concerned, by persuading the worthy knight to call in and suppress the entire impression of his "Romance of the Aristocracy,”*—to "sink, burn, and destroy" every copy of it. So much does the bad preponderate over the good, the frivolous over the earnest, the false, fickle, dastardly, and perfidious, over the truthful, faithful, and brave, in the records, more or less founded on reality, of the acts and careers of notable members of the aristocratic class, that the work seems a monument not of honour, but of shame. So, at least, it would be considered, but for that morbid feeling which causes many people to prefer that their families should be supposed to have sprung even from crime and dishonour than from honest, obscure industry. That Sir Bernard is facile princeps of pedigree-hunters is well London: Hurst and Blackett. known, and his acquaintance with the ramifications of far-off genealogical connexions is sometimes astonishing - the result, we dare say, of long habits of study and inquiry directed to a particular pursuit. We cannot help thinking that from his ample stores of knowledge, he might have made a relation of "romances" more creditable or rather, less discreditable-to the ancestry of his patrons. We feel interested in the honour and fair repute of the great old families of this realm, and this feeling makes us regret profoundly to see a composition, made up so largely of stories of folly, frivolity, and baseness, sent forth as representing the "romance" of aristocratic history. But it may be, after all, that we are wrong that we ought to accept the title as a correct one, there being (it is hoped) more of romance than of truth in these dismal chronicles. TRAVELLERS who have penetrated far into the wilder parts of South America, have sometimes returned with wondrous tales, of what they witnessed in those remote regions. The time is coming when, with the advance of civilization, and its inseparable companion, increased facility of transit, much of the mystery and romance of such narratives will subside into plain matter-offact. Meanwhile, there is a wide field for adventurous exploration and discovery. We are indebted to Mr. E. R. Smith for a curious account of his "Tour amongst the Indian Tribes more especially of his of Southern Peru," sojourn in the country of the Araucanians, a tribe of whom little has hitherto been known, save that they have maintained their independence, their isolation, and distinctive habits, with a sturdiness which the lapse of centuries has not quelled. All the efforts of the Spaniards failed to subdue them effectually: they still exist in their wild freedom, and are amongst the few genuine representatives of the ancient races. The volume is a very interesting one. WE are always glad to welcome any contribution, by an American author, to sound and wholesome literature, and it is pleasant to confess that opportunities for doing so are frequently afforded to us. In almost every department of literary effort, Americans have distinguished themselves. Fortunately for the country, which has produced a Prescott, and a Cooper, that its reputation does not rest on such productions as "Mary Lyndon, or Revelations of a Life." + We notice this concatenation of worthless and mischievous trash for the sole purpose of protesting against the indiscriminate importation into England of every maudlin abomination emanating from unhealthy brains on the other side of the ocean. The system is unjust to America, and insulting to ourselves. Messrs. Low have been the medium through which many excellent American works have been introduced here. We counsel them for their own sake, to exercise some little discernment in lending the name of their firm to transatlantic pollutions. We feel persuaded that if they do not take our advice, they will be losers in every way. 'Mary Lyndon" is a specimen of the most vicious class of Franco-American sentimentalism; and whilst purporting to be a plea for advancing the "rights of women," and exhibiting a violent attempt at "fine writing," is a production as repulsive to good taste and right feeling as any American importation which we have lately encountered. And this, by-the-bye, is saying a great deal, inasmuch as there has been within the last two or three years, an inundation of very much more than questionable effusions of all shapes, reflecting little credit on the moral and intellectual tone of a public amongst which such speculations can pay. DR. R. LOTSKY, in his "Rationale and Rules of Gymnastic Exercise,"‡ comes forward as the champion of what he calls "the great health movement," and opens a sharp campaign against the luxury and indolence which, he maintains, are undermining the stamina of one section of the community, whilst bad air, unwholesome employments, and unsuitable food, are inflicting equal injury on the more numerous portion. As one way of combat London: S. Low and Son. + London, S. Low, and Son. London: Lewis. ing the evil, he recommends an habitual and general cultivation of gymnastic exercises, not with a view to enormous muscular development, or the performance of astonishing feats of strength, but for the purpose of keeping all the functions of the system in a state of healthful activity. The doctor insists that the physique of society in general is decaying under some of the influences of high civilization, and propounds a system which, in his opinion, would prove instrumental in arresting the progress of decay. "* THAT American independence is attributable to a policy literally insane on the part of the mother country is now, we imagine, admitted by the whole world. Abundant has been the controversy respecting the causes which could have led to a persistence in so glaring a violation of the rule of reason. The "Letters of George the Third to Lord North,' published under the vigorous editorial auspices of Lord Brougham, as an appendix to his "Historical Sketches," serve to clear up the mystery. The memory of Lord North has been aspersed by many historians, as if that unfortu nate statesman had been an active instigator of the course pursued. Now, this is not so. North's principal fault lay in his excessive acquiescence in the obstinacy of the miserable king, whose conduct can be paliated only by the recollection of the madness which exhibited itself so fiercely a few years afterwards, and which had probably been all along exercising its influence on his actions. The Minister frequently requested permission to resign; the king exerted all his authority to pre vent him. The monarch is found plumply declaring his willingness to sacrifice every thing to his personal humour. Thus, in one letter, he says, "No advantage to my country nor personal danger to myself can make me address myself to Lord Chatham or any other branch of the opposition." And so the sad game went on. These letters comprise an instructive moral as to the kind of influence which sometimes determines the fate of nations. IT has often been declared that Old England treated her American colonies as a very hardhearted stepmother might be expected to treat children to whom she had conceived a special dislike. Is it one of the indications of that illusage, that it appears from Mr. Usher Parsons's "Life of Sir William Pefferell, Bart.," that the old colonial worthy in question "was the only native of New England who was created a baronet during the connexion with the mother country!" Sir William was a local magnate of the first class -wealthy, loyal, enterprising, hospitable. Like Cromwell, the late Lord Lyndhurst, and many more men of greater note than himself, he turned soldier in ripe middle age, and acquitted himself right gallantly in that character. But it was only for the nonce. When the emergency was past, he returned to the plough, or, perhaps more correctly speaking, to the counting-house, between which and the care of his large landed property, passed a life of not undiguified activity, and kept up state and hospitality in a style becoming his honourable position. But it is not the personal qualities or achievements, however respectable, of London: Longman and Co. + London: D. Nutt. he the good baronet-it is the familiar, intelligent views afforded of the state of colonial society in the age immediately preceding the great Revolution, that impart to this work its greatest charm and interest. Mr. Parsons is an able biographer. He writes doubtless con amore, being a lineal descendant of Sir William, to whose merits he is of course disposed to accord a very ample measure of justice. The baronet lived until shortly before the outbreak of the War of Independence. His family took the "loyalist" or anti-national side in the struggle, lost the greater part of their property in consequence thereof, and after the war received but a poor recompense, if any, from the monarch in whose cause they had sacrificed their fortune. "ARISTOBULUS, THE LAST OF THE MACCABEES," by M. Kavanagh, is a stately, sonorous story, full of gorgeous pictures of Judea during the Herodian era. When we say that it contains a great deal of fine writing, we do not mean writing of that mawkish, bombastic cast to which that epithet is usually applied, on the principle lucus a non lucendo. We mean that it contains many admirable passages of dialogue, description, and imagery, in which the author displays a perfect command of language, and (an endowment much more rare) discretion in its use and disposition. Old Roman and Jewish dignitaries and ceremonials are marshalled before us with an effect which produces very much the impression of reality and the reader's attention is gained and retained throughout. "TALES FOR THE MARINES," + carry out the hint implied by their title. They may answer admirably for "the marines" (the standing impersonations of credulity in sailor-phrase), but would hardly go down with old tars. They present a succession of suggestions startling indeed. Smuggling, piracy, slave-trading, and all the romantic paraphernalia of tropical scenery and romance, are invoked by the author in aid of his own fertile imagination, and the result is an exciting medley, containing, peradventure, a substratum of fact perfectly insignificant in comparison with its superstructure of fiction. The author, however, knows his subject, and thus avoids the fault of clumsy, obvious extravagance, and the tales may fill up a leisure hour pleasantly to persons who k now even less of practical seamanship than do his confiding friends "the marines." with IF it be true that no one is less able to give an accurate description of a battle than a soldier who has taken part in it, it is a not less established fact that the majority of born Londoners know less about London than intelligent provincials who have resided a year or two in the great metropolis. "The Wild Tribes of London," its daguerreotype pictures of painful reality, is a work which cannot fail to astonish many worthy Cockneys, who have passed their lives in profound ignorance of the extent of vice, misery, and all conceivable horror and degradation which exists amongst and around them. It is right, however, that the terrible facts should be known. It is, in • London: T. C. Newby. + London: Ward and Lock. London: Ward and Lock. fact, a valuable and necessary species of knowledge. Some of the articles in the volume have, we believe, already appeared in successive numbers of "Diogenes," a talented facetious weekly, which we regret to say, is defunct. The illustrations, by Watts Phillips, are spirited and appropriate. "BRICK AND MARBLE" is the rather catching title of a book by Mr. Street, a young architect, who shows himself to be an ultra-mediævalist in his tastes, quite as strongly opposed to the classical style and the modern ones founded upon it as Ruskin himself. Decidedly a sectarian-a most bitter and intolerant one-in matters of Art, he must expect to find opponents as well as admirers and adherents. Neither is it likely to satisfy English antiquaries, but rather give umbrage to them, by his commendation of Italian Gothic, which, at the best, is of a very hybrid sortcertainly very far inferior to our own as a style, it being, in comparison with it, but little better than a half-hatched, at least, an unfledged one. Mr. Street talks in rather a high strain about what may be looked for from the new school to which he belongs-"young and earnest," "gathering thoughts from nature, life from the intense desire for reality and practical character, &c." therefore, let us hope that we shall not be disappointed, though such cock-crowing beforehand is not always prophetic of success. We have seen designs by some of the new school, and all of them have struck us as being very queer and crude, and marked by a most disagreeable affectation of uncouthness. IF implicit confidence could be given to the statements contained in a volume entitled "Female Life among the Mormons," and published as the composition of the "wife of a Mormon Elder," the only conclusion at which the most ardent supporter of liberty and freedom of thought and act could arrive, would be that this bevy of sectarians ought to be dispersed and broken up without ceremony, and their practices put down by the most stringent and penal process of law. But there is not the slightest proof, direct or circumstantial, of trustworthiness, either as regards the facts asserted, or the identity or authenticity of the person who asserts them. The book might have been written by any one who chose to take the trouble of going through the various works in which the revolting features of the Mormon system are revealed, and who possessed tact and unscrupulousness sufficient to enable him to make "startling" additions thereto, from the laboratory of his own inventive faculties. In short, its character places it out of the pale of serious criticism. M. GEORGE's "Conversational Grammar of the French Language" + will be found exceedingly useful by persons whose object is to familiarize themselves with the ordinary use of parts of speech and phrases in every-day discourse. But the title itself, to some extent, is a misnomer. Grammar, in its proper meaning, is in great mea London: Routledge and Co. + London: D. Nutt. |