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" It was on board this brig I got the sorest heart I had | have now perused this poem, and are glad to say that we

and suffered anguish so keen that for a time I have not been disappointed in the effort which Mr Aird's was berest of reason. We took on board some passengers genius has made. We knew that in the solitude of his to carry to Grenada ; my heart beat bigh with hope; I was

own thoughts Mr Aird was fond of nursing peculiar e within sixteen leagues of Carriacou ; surely an opportunity would occur by which I might reach this haven of

trains of association, and we therefore also knew, that my hopes. We scudded along; at length Grenada hove in

whatever be wrote would be something out of the beaten siglat, but we did not enter the port; the brig only lay to, track,--something minted in the mint of his own indiviand sent the passengers on shore. At the return of our dual feelings, and not alloyed by the intermixture of that boat, the captain stood for the island of St Vincents. Soon 1 sparkling but worthless dross which at present passes but the island of Carriacou gradually began to rise into view.

too current in the republic of letters. A mode of thinking, The feeling I had only before indulged in by anticipation,

and consequently a style of expression, differing to a conco assumed an overwhelming force. I stood rooted to the

siderable extent from any other mode or style, are among quarter-deck; we approached so close to Ilillsborough I could recognise every object, and the house that contained

the invariable marks of a superior minda mind capable all that my soul held dear. I implored Captain King to of remaining steady in its own strength, and not to be enter the harbour, or allow me to go on shore for a few swayed from side to side by every uncertain and shifting hours. He looked surprised at the intense anxiety I dis. breeze of doctrine, fashion, and opinion. This higher plaved in making my request, but refused, and said, if he characteristic belongs to all Mr Aird's writings. Al

could, he perhaps would do so at our return from St Vin. I though it is evident that their author has read and en. al cents. Shame made me conceal my bitter regret, though

| joyed the works of his illustrious predecessors and most it was allayed by the hope of being soon set on shore; yet Il had not made up my mind to any particular line of con

admired contemporaries, it is no less evident that the duct; only I wished to know if Mademoiselle was alive, channel of his own thoughts runs too deep to be thoroughly 17 and get one glance of that lovely face that was never out of tinged by any accidental hue which they may throw over

my thoughts. I had resolved, in my poor and penniless its surface. The fountain from which his conceptions 101 state, not to make myself known if I could help it, to any | tlow, hid though it may be from the common eye, ren Se one on the island, captain of marines as I was.

tains its crystal transparency uncontaminated. “ Thus I stood gazing until night shut out from sight

There can be no state of existence at all to be compared and the object of my longing ; sadly and slowly I went below, and threw myself down, not to sleep, but to review my life,

with that which the poet enjoys when his whole mind is **“ which had been spent in pain and disappointment.

| engrossed with his first poetical undertaking. To him " We remained a few days at St Vincents. Long and the world is the mere platform over which he walks ; heavily they hung upon my hands, yet the inhabitants were he is as much beyond its miseries as he is independent of very kind and civil to us. At our departure, we fired a its pleasures. His universe and his eternity are within salute, which was not answered ; but they hoisted their

: his own soul. He communes with thoughts, which he

his ow colours in reply. The evening was setting in as Carriacou

can summon at will, and which congregate around him came in sight the second time; I humbly requested Captain King to put into Hillsborough, or set me on shore.

like groups of friends with bright and holy faces. For His reply now was, he had no business whatever there, or

him nature is lovely with her myriad dyes, and full of he would be happy to oblige me; neither could he think of enchantment with her thousand voices ; but it is not the sending a boat from the brig during the night. My heart external nature, visible at morn and eve to every vulgar sank within me. I looked so much disappointed, he en- gaze, it is the essence of its beauty, treasured up and quired what could make me so anxious to get on shore. I

refined in the alembic of his own feelings, and equally tolet him I had been on the island in my youth, and wished

vivid before him in the darkness and the storms of night, to know if any of my friends were still alive. He laughed and said, 'O, captain, it must have been in the year one

| as in the balm and the brilliancy of noon. To him when you were there,' alluding to my aged look. No,' i humanity, with all its varying attributes, is a study said, it was in the year 1800, when I was only eighteen fraught with deep delight; and over that mighty mirayears of age.'--'Why,' said he, 'I thought you were sixty cle—the frame and the constitution of man—he casts the at least.' Again I asked him to indulge me, but he per mantle of bis inspiration, until he almost penetrates into em; torily refused. I rushed from his presence almost the heart of the mystery, and catches glimpses of what is frantic. As soon as I reached my berth, I seized a jar of

| yet to be. And never are his judgments severe ; nor are rum that stood at hand, and placing it to my head, drank in desperation, I knew not how much ; but I sank over

his doubts that the good preponderates, ever triumphant. powered upon my cot; my body was rendered by it inert, The poet who turns misanthrope, ceases to be a poet. but my mental energies were fearfully increased. Such a Love, in the most extended acceptation of the word, is night and day of agony I trust never to pass again ; but my the grand ingredient of all poetry,—a something which anguish gradually died away, and I resumed my usual train softens and improves, which melts and purifies, which, of thinking."-_ Vol. ii. p. 131-7.

stronger than the love of woman, pervades all space and After speaking as we have done of this book, it is a illuminates every idea. And if, at times, this very conwork of supererogation to say we recommend it to our dition of his being appears to intensify itself in one parreaders. The frontispiece, engraved from a portrait of ticular direction, who shall say how gloriously bright the Alexander by Watson Gordon, is beautiful and charac conceptions which then chase each other, like summer teristic,

wave on wave, through his whole soul, and which, though

unknown to all the world beside, and of momentary duThe Captive of Fez ; A Romance, in Five Cantos. By

ration, even within himself, nevertheless achieve the pur

| pose of the Almighty, and, like the showery sparkles of Thomas Aird. Edinburgh. William Blackwood. 1830.

| the shooting star, leave a gleam upon the memory, even 12mo. Pp. 243.

after they have themselves disappeared ? Then, as time They who have read Mr Aird's “ Religious Charac- rolls on, and brings with it the duller years of life, how teristics” are aware that it is a work which contains many does the poet look back upon his first dream of high enfine passages,--much acute reasoning, and much imagina- | thusiasm, and, like the evening traveller through the hilltive writing of a high character. The readers of the encircled vale, turn round upon his own shadow, still far Literary Journal are also aware that Mr Aird has con-up on the mountain's brow! Alas! many of the golden tributed to our pages, as he has done to those of Blackwood's lamps that burned within are already gone out, and though Magazine, several powerfully-written prose sketches, in- | the poet still worships at the altar of his god, the shrine dicating a reflective and original mind. We learned, looks less glorious than it did of yore. Woe to the cold therefore, with pleasure, some months ago, that Mr Aird critic, who would hasten the coming on of this sterner was engaged with a poem, upon which he intended to period, and, by the Ainging of a few senseless stones, shatexpend all his energies, and to which he trusted as a step- ter into fragments the magic mirror in which the poet ping-stone to lift him higher up the road of fame. We sees his visions arise, numerous as the hosts of the ever

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shining stars. Defects there must be wherever words are To watchful sailors o'er the trackless main, had recourse to as the symbols of thought; but if, through

honoht. but if. through! To little birds, to desert-beasts of night. the mistiness of words, bright ideas are seen to shine,

To lover hasting by her glimpsing light,

To hearts oppress'd, is, as thou art to me, then has a poet's soul been at work, and better to break

So passing dear, whose fair young brow I see! the golden bowl of life at once, than to ting a shadow

Ave Maria ! bless this lovely one, over the spirit which glitters within.

Mother of Heaven ! and Thou, her gracious son!” We have been accused of severity towards young poets ;

Zenone also visits Julian in his cell, to tempt him with but the plausibility of the accusation rests upon the misuse

life and liberty if he will fly with her to Italy, and to of the term. We confess we are severe towards rhymesters, but never towards poels,-towards those in whom

threaten instant death if he refuse. Julian, however, is we see, or think we see, traces of that higher susceptibi.

firm, and Zenone departs intent on vengeance. But er? lity and finer nature which carry a man out of the herd,

she can put it in force, Geraldine succeeds in winning because they enable him to think and feel more readily,

over the jailor, and the first Canto ends with the escape more acutely, and more intensely. On the contrary, we

and flight of the Captive. The second Canto introduces believe that we have, in one or two instances, allowed our

us to Abusade holding a nocturnal feast in his palace. anxiety to do every thing in our power to encourage and

His revels are interrupted by the unexpected return of advance individuals of this kind, to induce us to bestow

his General, Zemberbo, bringing Julian with him, whom upon their efforts a higher degree of commendation than

he had intercepted in his flight, and from whom he had they were perhaps strictly entitled to. This is an error,

learned the severity of the imprisonment to which he had however, of which we can bardly say that we repent.

been subjected ; although Zemberbo, when he left him at Mr Aird's poem is in heroic verse, of which he has an

the court, bad bargained that his captivity should be made excellent mastery, his lines being at once flowing, vigo

as light as possible. The haughty warrior now rebuie rous, and well varied in their pauses. The scene, as the

the king, for his breach of faith, in no very gentle terms. title imports, is laid in Africa, and for the most part in

Zenone, for her own purposes, determines to foment the the city of Fez. Young Julian. the son of the King of quarrel, and, in the course of the night, raises the citizens Portugal, is the “ Captive.” He was made prisoner by

| against Zemberbo, who naturally supposes that they atthe African General Zemberbo, and delivered over as a

tack him at the instigation of the king. He escapes the hostage to Abusade, King of Fez, who is at war with

danger, however, and carrying Julian off with him, be Portugal. Julian's captivity, however, is rendered less

has him conveyed, by a secret passage, into the palace of irksome by the mutual attachment which has sprung up

Zara, Zemberbo's sister, who lives in Fez in the utmost between him and Geraldine, the King's daughter by an

seclusion. Her appearance is that of one who has once English captive now dead. To Geraldine the reader is

been beautiful, but is now much wasted with grief. Her introduced in the following fine lines :

manners, however, unlike those of her brother, are still,

soft, and gentle. Seeing Julian, she thus enquires con“ Behold this daughter of a Moorish king;

cerning him : Yet say, how lovely in her life's young spring! So well has Nature lit along her face

“ But let me not be selfish : Is not this The blood that beautifies her mother's race,

Some captive child of sickness and distress, An English captive, who, to Abusade

Ta'en in thy wars, and, by thy special care, Her lord, the Fezzan monarch, bore the maid.

Thus brought my spells and healing skill to share ?-0! Geraldine, thy locks are dark as death!

Come near, thou young and pale, nor sue in vain, Fair as the moon of heaven thy brow beneath!

If I can heal thy wounds and spirit's pain. What shall be done for thee, young Geraldine ?

Thou weep'st: percbance thy mother dwells afar, On golden manna and celestial wine,

And little sisters claim thee from the war. The food of angels, wert thou fed, to win

Gay vests they sew for thee, the loved ; and still,
That clear embalming glow thy cheek within ?

To look for thee, they climb the green cleft hill.
Nay, wert thou sprung from the sun's shining loins, Lo! one afar-'tis thou ; but o ! regret!
Child of all beauty, that all love enjoins ?

The stranger passes on: thou coms't not yet.
In lightest play, in arch sweet raillery,

And they must ask, to verge of modest shame, Out glanced the swift young arrows of her eye,

The brave returning warrior for thy nameTo need a thousand pardons, and to win,

Must ask from morn to noon-must watch for thee, In fast relapses of their beauteous sin.

Till gleams the sweet moon through the chesnut-tree, Yet did that eye, when aught was heard to grieve,

But weep not ; for that worn attire of thine Gleam softly, lightening as the star of eve;

This hand shall sew a garment soft and fine; Nor less, o'er villain wrongs, could flash bold ire,

Well shall we care for thee, and heal thy pain, Could burn with holy and indignant fire.”

And send thee to thy native land again On the death of Geraldine's mother, Abusade had

Thy sister's joy ; nor long thy captive smart

Shall drink the sweet blood of thy mother's heart." espoused Zenone, an Italian princess of great personal attractions, but of unbounded passions. She soon ceased Thus prepared to love the stranger youth, Zemberka to love the king, a weak and luxurious tyrant, and trans at length informs his sister that he is her own son. Zaferred the whole of her guilty attachment to Julian, who, ra's previous history, explaining how this should be, is however, was incapable of returning it. Enraged at his thus spiritedly told to Julian by Zemberbo. The reader coldness, she so contrived, that even the show of liberty will recollect that the King of Portugal was Julian's fawas taken from him, and he was immured in a dungeon. ther, and it is of him that Zemberbo speaks : He is here visited by Geraldine, who assures him of her “ He, prince, in early youth was captive made, continued affection, of which, in his misery, he had be And, wounded sore, in Zemra's palace laid; gun to doubt. Restored to new joy, the Captive breaks Beyond the leech's aid there langaishing, forth into the following highly poetical lines :

Fast o'er him closed dread Azrael's sable wing.

Came then to Zemra, Lilla Zara, child “ This-this is to be free; and I am free!

Of loftiest charity, my undefiled! My star of good, young princess, shines in thee.

She heard — was moved - his life she will recall; Yon moon in heaven, how many hearts have bless'd,

For, wiser than the desert daughters all, As on she calmly journeys to the west!

Rare stones sbe knew of veins and spotty cyes, She lights the white ships o'er the untravellid seas,

And starry witchcraft, that within them lies; She soothes the little birds upon the trees,

The precious bleeding rinds, and weeds of might, And cheers the creatures of the solitudes.

Far look'd into by sovereign eyes of night, And leads the lover through the glimmering woods,

All virtual flowers; and how to win them kneir, And gives to weary hearts unworldly calm,

On Atlas gather'd in their nightly dew. When slumber comes not with its priceless balm ;

And in the wild and planetary hour, But not yon moon in heaven without a stain,

A talisman she framed of sovereign power ;

And Allah bless'd her work of sweet young ruth,
And up from dust she raised thy father's youth.
Now what for Lilla Zara shall be done ?
How he be grateful to redeeming one?
Ile dared to tempt: she fled with him by night,
And in his kingrom show'd her tarnish'd light!
Well, style it love,omnipotent they say,
What theu ? Ye deem not his could pass away?
His father dead, 'twas his to mount a throne,
Bound to be glad his faithful one to own.
Dog in his heart, he sate thereon ; but seem'd
Cheap thing who loved him, and from death redeem'd !
Forsooth!--no doubt! her glory he desired ;
But other queen his kingdom's wants required,
And thus, by kingly policy decreed,
A creature of large heart became a weed.”

Zemberbo had subsequently removed his sister from the Court of Portugal, but for a time left her son behind, that his future vengeance might be more complete. Having concluded his interview with Zara, Zemberbo again hurries Julian away, and is about to convey him to the camp, when he is attacked by emissaries from the king, and is obliged to look after his own safety. He escapes, but Julian is once more made prisoner, and the second Canto concludes. In the third, we learn that Zemberbo is now in open rebellion, and that the priests, under the instigation of Geraldine, have declared that Fez can be sived only by giving the command of her armies to the captive prince. The superstitious king agrees to this arrangement, and Julian is led forth in triumph, and sent to battle against his uncle Zemberbo. His parting scene with Geraldine is finely written, and his wish to take her to Portugal, and spend with her there the remainder of his life, is very poetically described :

“ Did I not promise from this shore
To take my inaid the dark-blue waters o'er,
To banks of beauty, where the Tagus roves
Through the long summer of his orange groves ?
Come, let me lead thee by thy soft young hand,
And show the glories of my father's land,
Thine own! The breeze that smooths the forest tops;
The dewy sun that sleeks the far green slopes ;
Bright wings of birds, all beautiful and free,
In living rainbows round the blossom'd tree;
High overhead on home-returning wings,
The booming bee, that spent its airy rings;
Dim lake; the olive hill; the valley's gleains,
Inlaid with blue bows of the wandering streams;
White cities shining on the bended shore;
Beyond, far fused, the ocean's silver floor,
For thee shall glorify the evening hour,
And I will lead thee to the summer bower,
Prepared for thee beneath the hill of vines,
Young beauty of the South! when day declines,
( ! thy dark locks of youth, my alien bright!
My check shall dry away the drops of night!
And when thou turn'st thee to the southern star,
And think'st upon thy native home afar,
Thou shalt not weep; I have thee by the hand,
My heart is thine, my land shall be thy land.
And largely in thee shall that heart delight,
Ilow gladly bring thee to my father's sight,
And show thee in his court, and still to thee,
A queen, make princes proud to bend the knee!
Yet more - This is a dream: God, let me die !
I dare not wake; for where, for wbat am I?
Yet, Geraldine, no braggart would I be,
But so would love thee, were my young life free.
I feel I feel my love's unbounded debt ;
May God forget me when I thee forget!”

Of warlike pomp; for there the traitor host
Of dark Zemberbo kept their evening post,
And hoped the coming morrow to decide
Bold stakes against a king's prescriptive pride.
Of equal hopes the royal bands possess'd,
Within their guarded camp took splendid rest.
By heaven and earth! it was a goodly sight
To see those tents beneath the setting light,
Encircling round with deep pavilion'd pale,
A little hill in middle of a vale.
Fair trees, with golden sunlight in their tops,
In leafy tiers grew up its beauteous slopes.
Green was its open summit, and thereon,
O'er battle plains, the mighty captains shone.
West, through the vale delicious, lay unrollid,
The lapse of rivers in their evening gold;
And far along their sun-illumined banks,
Broke the quick restless gleam of warlike ranks.
North, where the hills arose by soft degrees,
Stood stately warriors in the myrtle trees,
And fed their beauteous steeds. From east to south,
Arm'd files stood onward to the valley's mouth.
From out the tents the while, and round the plain,
Bold music burst, defiance to maintain,
And hope, against the morrow's dawning hour.
Nor the gay camp belied th' inspiring power;
From white-teeth'd tribes, that loiter'd on the grass,
Loud laughter burst, fierce jests were heard to pass ;
Around the tents were form'd the gorgeous throngs
Of nations blent, with shout and warlike songs.
Nor ceased the din, as o'er th' encampment wide
Fell softly dark that eve of summer tide.”

The issue of the combat was in favour of Zemberbo; and Julian and his scattered troops were obliged to fly back to Fez, whither they are hotly pursued by the rebel chief. The plot now thickens, and we shall not enter into its details, as we could not do them justice in a prose narrative.

The fate of Abusade, Zara, Zenone, and Geraldine, is very powerfully told, and, in as far as Julian is concerned, the poem ends as it began, he being left in severe and hopeless captivity.

The most striking beauties of this poem appear to us to consist in the fine vein of bold and manly thought which runs through it, and in the energy and ambition displayed by Mr Aird in the portraits of his different dramatis persona, standing out as they do in strong relief, and grouped with a powerful effect of light and shade. He may not have succeeded in every instance to explain his own meaning so fully, or so well, as he might wish; yet it is impossible to peruse the poem without perceiving that we have to do with one of the higher orders of mind, and the passages we have given will be sufficient to convince our readers, that in lofty feeling and glowing poetical diction Mr Aird need fear comparison with no one. If we are to allude to the faults of the composition, and we have little wish to do so at present, we should say that, mechanically speaking, the story is not quite so well arranged—the plot not quite so well brought out—as it would have been by a more practised workman. There is a feeling of intricacy and occasional obscurity, which ought, if possible, to be avoided in all poetical narratives. We might also object, that the hero, Julian, is throughout too much a tool in the hand of others, but we do not lay so much stress upon this as some may do. We consider certain affectations of forced and out-ofthe-way expressions, which we observe here and there, a more grievous fault, but one which may be easily amended. Thus we have, “heroic spasms of souls,"_"at shut of day,”_" the wine-fired salamanders of his eye," “ the light that dimly shined,”_"joy-candles in the eyes,"

_" a boundless witch,"_“ passion's flaming linstock," &c. We are aware that it is extremely difficult to determine at what precise point originality degenerates into bombast and absurdity, and we also admire an author's courage in not sticking too scrupulously to established phrases ; but we submit to Mr Aird's taste, that at least some of the expressions we have copied are too grotesque for serious poetry.

Ou the whole, we have no hesitation in expressing our

It was not long before Julian and his army encountered that of Zemberbo. The poem is full of beautiful passages, but there is none more vigorous and picturesque than the following:

“ Two days they march'd, and on the third were stay'd,
And in a beauteous vale their camp was made-
Beyond it lay, with narrow pass between,
A larger valley, and an equal scene

opinion, that “ The Captive of Fez" is a production which friend. Thus, though it appears by his work that he had will give Mr Aird a status of no mean kind ainong the an indomitable longing to see Mount Sinai, it was as a poets of the day, and that it evinces powers which, when lawyer to stand upon the spot whence the earliest colle of a little more matured, may yet make efforts of the very law was promulgated. Another striking peculiarity of highest description.

Webster was, his tolerant spirit. There is but one thing of which we remember him to have spoken with habitual

indignation, and that was, servility of any kind. We Travels through the Crimea, Turkey, and Egypt; per have already alluded to the delicacy of his constitution.

formed during the Years 1825-28; including Particulars The ardour of his mind was too much for his frame, and of the Last Iness and Death of the Emperor Alexan frequently led him to attempt exertions beyond his physider, and of the Russian Conspiracy in 1825. By the cal force. To this, alas! we owe his premature death. late James Webster, Esquire, of the Inner Temple. 2 | He was, however, far from a weakling. We have selvols. 8vo. London. Colburn and Bentley. 1830. dom known one whose nerves stood better the shock of Pp. 162, and 435.

unforeseen danger, or who was more quick-witted and

fertile in resources for evading it. Ile was also fond of We have perused these volumes with a melancholy in

the more gentlemanly exercises, and was an excellent terest. We knew the author well during the happiest

swordsman, days of life---when the earnestness of approaching man

The greater portion of the two volumes now published, hood first gives solidity and worth to the flow of youth

under the friendly superintendence of Mr Frazer, is ocful spirits--and never hare we met with one more ardent

cupied by Webster's notes of his travels in the Crimea, in his love and pursuit of whatever was good and great,

Turkey, and Egypt. The account of the latter country or of a purer mind. Our acquaintance commenced at is the most complete, filling almost the whole of the sea the University of St Andrews. Webster was at that

cond volume. It contains a narrative of Mahommed time rather diminutive in stature; of a slender frame; Ali, Pacha of Egypt, and of his sons Ibrahim and Ismael; and appeared to be of a delicate constitution. Though

together with notices of the proceedings of the French younger than the greater part of his fellow-students, he and English armies in Egypt; the destruction of the was remarkable for a sedateness and uniform propriety of

Mamelukes; and the fortune of the Wababees. Along demeanour, which might have been looked for in vain

with these important matters we find occasional descripin the most advanced among us. At the same time, there I tions of the character of Egyptian scenery, of the man. was nothing morose or secluded in his disposition. His

ners and moral condition of the inhabitants, and although desire for literary distinction was unbounded-he tried

the author was neither a professed antiquarian, nor ever every thing-in many classes he stood foremost-in all

showed much interest in the pursuits which engross that he stood high. We have no desire to make use of that

class of persons, we find many notices and shrewd guesses absurd strain of papegyric we sometimes hear employed

which must be interesting and instructive to them. towards boys at that time of life; but a thirst for know

From this account of the book's contents, it will be eviledge, unwearied application, and a power of turning I dent to the reader who is in the least degree acquainted what he learns to account, are always encouraging symp-with Oriental politics, that the work contains a rich fund toms. Webster's debut at college was strikingly illustra- 1 of materials for the history of Egypt in the nineteenth tive of his character. At St Andrews, a certain number

century, digested upon a more philosophical and compreof bursaries are yearly adjudged, by public competition,

hensive plan than is to be met with in any other Engto the most deserving entrants. They are the poorest

lish work. We have also found, in turning over these bursaries on the establishment, and are, in general, only

and are, in general, only pages, what we certainly have not met with elsewhere, competed for by the poorest class of students. Webster

incidental notices of the state and prospect of manufacwas, however, averse to lose any opportunity of obtain

tures in Egypt. Since the death of Webster, much and ing distinction; he entered himself as candidate, carried

inore accurate information has been obtained respecting the highest honours, and resigned the bursary to the

many points he touches on, but we are not aware that next in order. Another occurrence, during his last ses.

any of his successors has shown the power indicated in sion, shows that his ardour had in no degree relaxed.

his notes, of correctly apprehending the insulated phenoPrincipal Playfair had offered a premium for the best

mena submitted to his notice, joined with so great a essay on some subject of Political Economy. There were facility of condensing his several experiences into a combut few of the students who had turned their attention to

prehensive system. It is true, that we have here merely this science, and only one or two essays were lodged.

the journal—the note-book of the commencement of his Webster was walking with one of the competitors on the

travels. But even in these comparatively hasty fragSouth Street, when a Professor encountered them, and,

ments will be recognised the ardent and the opening entering into conversation, asked Webster why he did not

mind-genius fluttering and proving her young wings. contend for the prize. His companion observed, jesting.

They who knew him long and intimately will feel, at the ly, he supposed Webster tbought it needless, as he him

same time, how inadequate these volumes are to show self had lodged an essay. Webster's face flushed; he

what was in him. Not the least bitter ingredient in the said nothing ; but, in the course of two days, his essay

cup of our regret, is the thought that so much of those was composed and given in; and it puzzled the Pro

qualities the world is but too poor in, should bave been fessors to decide whether it, or some of the more leisure- I lost ere they had time to mature and develope themselves. ly-fabricated productions of the other candidates, was entitled to the prize.

We are doubtful whether Webster possessed much ima- | The King's Own. By the Author of “ The Naval Offigination. The bent of his mind lay towards the abstract, cer.” 3 vols. London. Colburn and Bentley. 1830. the mechanical, and practical sciences. But the enthu- Captain Mariot, the author of this work, is a very siasm of his temperament caused him to pursue them clever man, and has written a very clever book. It is with a passion, and a belief in the power of the human not to be regarded so much in the light of a novel, though mind to extend and apply them, that bordered on the ro- its pretensions in this way are highly respectable, as conmantic. An adventure which he had at Malta, and af- taining a succession of nautical sketches, written by one terwards the wild grandeur of Egypt's gigantic monu- who thoroughly understands what he is writing about, ments, secm to have awakened a chord of romance, which, and who, moreover, has a nice eye for those parts of a long and intimately though we knew him in this coun- picture which are most calculated to tell, whether the try, appeared always to be dormant. Yet even under its gayer or the graver principles of our nature be appealed intluence, we recognise the solid disposition of our old to. “ The King's Own" is a name given to the hero in

I ment!

his infancy, because he is a sort of foundling on board ship. penough. Up with the sail, and we'll return the compli

The author's design is to carry him through a great variety of adventures both on sea and ashore, and thus afford

“ In less than a minute, the tie of the haulyards, which himself an opportunity of bringing out all the peculiarities

had been divided close to the yard, was hitched round it,

and the sail again expanded to the breeze. Now, my lads, or the naval character. The story commences with some remember, don't throw a shot away-fire when you're very graphic sketches of the mutiny at the Nore; takes ready.' us subsequently to the Mediterranean'; then treats us “ The broadside of the lugger was poured into the cutter, with a storm in the Bay of Biscay; then gives us a peep with what effect upon the crew could not be ascertained; of the smuggling trade off the coast of France; then sails but the main-boom was cut in half, and the outer part of with us across the Atlantic to the West Indies, returns

it fell over the cutter's quarter, and was dragged astern of in a while, and cruises with us in the British Channel;

the clew of the sail.

“ It's all over with her already,' said the first mate to then hoists its blue Peter, and takes us out at once to In M‘Elvina; and as the cutter paid off before the wind, an. dia, where it introduces us to tiger hunts and other won- other broadside from her well-manned antagonist raked her ders; and finally, after battles, and shipwrecks, and bom fore and aft. The cutter hauled down her jib, eased off bardments, and storms, and calms, and all sorts of nauti- her foresheet, and succeeded in again bringing her broadside cal things, all capitally told, it comes at last to anchor in to bear. The action was now maintained with spirit, but rather a lugubrious haven, at the end of the third vo

much to the disadvantage of the cutter, who was not only lume. To those who love to know wbat is doing on the

inferior in force, but completely disabled from the loss of

her mainboom. great deep, and to study the habits of the amphibious ani

“After an exchange of a dozen broadsides, M'Elvina mals who live thereon, we recommend this book as not shot the lugger a-head, and, tacking under his adversary's inferior in lively interest, or less replete with amusing in- bows, raked him a second time. The commander of the cident, than some of the works of Cooper, the American. revenue vessel, to avoid a repetition of a similar disaster,

That our recommendation may have more weight, and payed his vessel off before the wind, and returned the fire may be proved to be well worthy of attention, as all our

as they came abreast of each other; but in these maneuvres recommendations are, we shall give a couple of extracts

the lugger obtained the weather-gage. It was, however, a

point of little consequence as matters then stood. In a few from Captain Mariot's novel. The first is purely nauti more broadsides, the cutter was a womplete wreck, and uncal:

able to return the fire of her opponent. Her forestay and AN AFFAIR BETWEEN A LUGGER AND A REVENUE-CUTTER.

haulyards had been cut away, her foresail was down on

I deck, and her jib lying overboard under her bows. “ The powerful rays of the sun, assisted by the increa

** I think that will do,' said M Elvina to the first mate. sing wind, now rolled away the fog from around the ves

• We had better be off now, for our guns will be sure to sels, wbich had a perfect view of each other. They were distant about two miles, and the blue water was strongly

bring down some of the cruisers; and if she surrendered,

I could not take possession of her. Let's give her a parting rippled by the breeze which had sprung up. The lugger

broadside and three cheers.' M Elvina's orders were obeycontinued her course on a wind, while the cutter bore down

ed; but not one gun was returned by the cutter. “Startowards her with all the sail that she could throw out.

board a little, keep her away now, and we'll close and stand The fog continued to clear away, until there was an open

ahead of her, that she may read our name on the stern. It's space of about three or four miles in diameter, but it still

a pity they should not know to whom they are indebted. remained folded up in deep masses, forming a wall on every side, which obscured the horizon from their sight. It ap

They'll not forget La Belle Susanne.'”– Vol. i. pp. 189-91. peared as if nature had gratuitously cleared away a suffi- 1 To show that our worthy Captain can write upon more cient portion of the mist, and had thus arranged a little

subjects than one, our other extract has less of a sea smell, amphitheatre for the approaching combat between the two vessels.

but is equally entertaining : « • His colours are up, sir. Revenue stripes, by the Lord ! cried Phillips.

THE DOG OF SENTIMENT. « « Then all's right,' replied M Elvina.

« They bad not remained there many minutes, when a “ The cutter had now run down within half a mile of poodle dog, bien tondu, and white as a sheep from the river the lugger, who had continued her course with the most before the day of shearing, walked up to them with an air perfect nonchalance, when she rounded to. The commander of sagacious curiosity, and looked M‘Elvina steadfastly in the of the vessel, aware, at the first discovery of the lugger, that face. M'Elvina, taking his cigar from his mouth, held it she could be no other than an enemy, who would most to the dog, who ran up to it, as if to smell it; the lighted probably give him some trouble, had made every prepara end coming in contact with his cold nose, induced the anition for the engagement.

mal to set up a loud yell, and retreat to his master much "• Shall we boist any colours, sir?' said the first mate to faster than he came, passing first one fore-paw, and then M.Elvina.

the other, over his nose, to wipe away the pain, in such a " • No; if we hoist English, he will not commence ac- ridiculous manner as to excite loud merriment, not only tion until he has made the private signal, and all manner of from our party on the beach, but also from others who had parleying, which is quite unnecessary. He knows what witnessed the scene. we are well enough.'

" • So much for curiosity,' said M‘Elvina, continuing “ • Shall we hoist a French ensign, sir ?

his mirth. The proprietor of the dog, a young Frenchman, “• No; I'll fight under no other colours than those of dressed very much' en calicot,' did not, however, seem Old England, even when I resist her authority.'

quite so much amused with this practical joke; he cocked “ A long column of white smoke now rolled along the his hat fiercely on one side, raised his figure to the utmost surface of the water, as the cutter, who had waited in vain of its height, and walking up, en grand militaire, addressed for the colours being hoisted, fired the first gun at her an- | M•Elvina with, Comment, Monsieur, vous avez fuit une tagonist. The shot whizzed between the masts of the lug- grande bėtise -vous m'insultez ger, and plunged into the water a quarter of a mile to lee " I think I had better not understand French,' said ward.

M‘Elvina, aside to De Briseau ; then turning to the French""A vous, Monsieur ! roared out a French quarter man, with a grave face, and air of incomprehension, master on board of the lugger, in imitation of the compli

hoard of the lugger in imitation of the compli. . What did you say, sir? ments which take place previously to un assaut d'armes, at ! « « Ah ! you are Inglisman. You not speak French ?' the same time taking off his hat, and bowing to the cutter. M'Elvina shook his head, and began to pulf away his

“• Too high, too high, good Mr Searcher,' said M‘Elvina, cigar. laughing ; depress your guns to her water-line, my lads, * Den, sare, if you not speak de French langage, I and do not fire till I order you.'

speak de Englis like von natit, and I tell you, sare, que vous “ The remainder of the cutter's broadside was now dis: m'avez insulté. Got for dam !- you burn my dog nose; charged at the lugger, but the elevation being too great, the vat you mean, sare ? shot whizzed over, without any injury to her crew; the “* The dog burned his own nose,' answered M'Elvina, main haulyards were, however, shot away, and the yard mildly." and sail tell thundering down on the deck.

« Vat you mean? de dog burn his own pose! How is “ Be smart, my lads, and bend on again; it's quite long a dog cap-able to buru his own pose? Sare, you put do

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