as the grand qualities of the oak, beyond all other trees, consist in its possessing the greatest strength, hardness, toughness, and durability united, so the best place for raising the tree in the greatest perfection is, the highest-manured kitchen-garden, and still more, the richest hot-bed!!! Bravo, Withers! Your theory has now got to its climax! Vivat stercoratio, ruat cœlum!-Muck and the Attorney for ever! But, joking apart, the principles to be acted on in raising the best timber of every sort, and especially the best timber for naval purposes, is a subject of too serious and general an interest to be treated with ridicule, or to be suffered to sink into neglect, among the transient novelties or follies of the day. Great Britain is well known as the country, of which the soil and climate are capable of raising, and have hitherto raised, the BEST OAK TIMBER IN THE WORLD; and it is deeply interesting and important to her that she should continue to raise it. Considering the low state of scientific arboriculture as yet among us, and the late stimulus which has been given to curiosity respecting it, by the writings of ingenious men, it may not be amiss, before concluding these strictures on a very shallow, but specious production, to endeavour to condense into a few sentences a sort of summary to our argument, for the use of such of our readers as may be planters, and to lay before them, as shortly as possible, what seems now to be the generally understood principle in this important business. the best possible timber. The same thing is observable in the economy of all other trees, as well as that of the oak, as it is in accordance with the general law of nature which governs the whole vegetable kingdom in respect to growth, and is known to every well-informed planter. Whatever, therefore, is adverse to this general law, we at once reject as the offspring of ignorance or inexperience. Fanciful theories and erroneous practices may live for a season, and flippant pamphlets in praise of them may be produced by such men as the present author; but they cannot permanently retard the progress of science, or long impose on the good sense of the public. In the words of the greatest planter of the age, "It is only on an acquaintance with vegetable physiology, and the anatomy of plants, with the habits they display, and the organs and properties they possess, that any sound foundation can be laid for an art, of which the practice should be scientific, lathough it has been hitherto treated as wholly mechanical." Neddy Sang, you seem to be fond of quoting Latin, as appears by your pamphlet; we will therefore say to you, in the exhortatory way, and in that language, Hoc age! FRIEND SANG, we are perfectly aware that you know something of mechanical planting; and we are further aware that, with the assistance of a friend, you once came All trees have their peculiar soils and climates, in which forward as the editor of a posthumous treatise of Walter they will thrive best, and most fully perfect their species. Nicol's, another mechanical planter like yourself. But This is the law of nature, and what Sir Henry Steuart how it should enter your brain to attempt "Strictures" has called " phytological affinity." The soil most conge- on a scientific work, of which you cannot understand a nial to the oak, as already remarked, is a strong, deep, single sentence, truly exceeds our comprehension. It is and loamy soil, often a reddish clay, together with a tem- true, Sir Henry Steuart does not speak with much reperate climate. Such are the soil and climate in which spect of the science of the Scottish nurserymen, and we the best and most durable oak has always been found, regret that he should have so much reason to do so; but when planted by the hand of nature, and such, therefore, it is also true, that he speaks of yourself, in particular, may be set down as most natural to the species. The much more highly than you deserve. It was, therefore, best oak timber is certainly that which grows most vi- very ungrateful in you, and likewise very foolish, to exgorously under these circumstances; but the combined pose yourself as you have done, by taking up the cudgels action of climate and soil may be such, as to cause it to for either the gardeners, or the nurserymen of Scotland, transcend the measure of the most perfect wood. All neither of whom, as far as we can discover, Sir Henry cultivation or amelioration of a soil like this is injurious, has unfairly treated. because it expands the vegetable fibre, and renders the wood more porous and less dense, by unduly accelerating its growth. If the oak be planted on clayey land, and of a poor and thin quality, trenching and manuring will bring about a beneficial effect, by rendering such land deeper and richer, and by assimilating it to the soil most natural to the species. In the same way, if poor, silicious, or light soil be to be planted with the same trees, trenching and manuring will occasion a favourable effect, by deepening it, aud rendering it more tenacious of moisture, and, by consequence, assimilating it, in some degree, to the natural soil; and if lime be added to consolidate such a soil, or clayey compost, made up with lime, it will be still more advantageous. These ingredients impart to thin and poor soils of every sort, before being planted, a certain portion of those essential requisites which nature has denied them. But the great regulator, or, if we may so speak, the unerring barometer of all soils, is atmospheric temperature, that is, the measure of heat and cold, as modified on woody plants. The soil most congenial to the oak has been already described. Take that soil, for example, at the bottom of a deep valley, where the oak is found to grow in the highest luxuriance, and compare its produce with that of a similar soil, at a greater elevation, and in a greater exposure to the elements, in the same valley. Here the trees, with the very same advantages of soil, will be found to grow more slowly. Their vegetable fibre being more contracted or condensed, their whole organic structure will be modified to the circumstances in which it is placed, and stronger and more closegrained wood will consequently be produced. This, under proper circumstances, may probably be considered as that is, mind your proper business and vocation; stock well, and arrange your nursery-ground, and take a planting contract, when you can get it, from the Lairds of Fife; but, for God's sake, be advised by us; steer clear of science, and, above all things, of scientific arboriculture, or the trade of book-making; as any attempt at either can only make you ridiculous. We advise you as a friend— as an ancient painter advised an honest tradesman, about as foolish as yourself-Ne sutor ultra crepidam! and with that kindly monition we take our leave, hoping never to meet you again, in either the one department, or the other. The Lives of the Most Eminent British Painters, Sculp THIS volume is fully equal in interest to its predecessor from the same pen. We do not, of course, look upon the work as one which the artist will study with the view of obtaining additional information concerning the principles of his art, nor as one to which the amateur will appeal as competent authority in matters of disputed taste, or as settling the estimation in which various productions of the pencil ought to be held. This is not its object, and they who judge it by such a standard, judge it erroneously. All that Mr Cunningham undertook to do was, to supply popular, entertaining, and impartial Lives of those who have most distinguished themselves in the green that incrustations of paint and dirt had not covered. His wig was one which you might suppose he had borrowof his own grey hair. He lived alone in a house which was ed from a scarecrow; all round it there projected a fringe never cleaned; and he slept on a bedstead with no other furniture than a blanket nailed on the one side. I wanted history of British art. This task he has now shown himself well capable of executing, having entirely succeeded in conveying a distinct, condensed, and spirited view of the personal and intellectual character of those of whom he has had occasion to speak. Nor is this all his narrative, which is written in an easy, straight-for-him to visit me-No, he said; he could not go out by day, ward, and unaffected style, is thickly interspersed with remarks indicative of a biographer who enters con amore into his subject, and abounding in much sound sense and correct feeling. The present volume commences with the Life of West, -an amiable and upright man, deeply imbued with a pure and abstract love of his profession, which early disadvantages could not overcome, and which subsequent success could not taint. His misfortune was, that his ambition exceeded his powers, and only in one or two instances was he able to achieve what he so ardently wished to do. To the Life of West succeeds that of James Barry a man of wild, wayward, and impassioned genius, characteristic of the country of his birth, and too often dooming the sons of Erin to a series of misfortunes and misery which a cooler judgment could easily have avoided. Even in his best days, Barry lived in comparative poverty, and the following passage presents a melancholy picture of the privations which the unconquerable love of art has rendered many of its ablest votaries willing to endure: BARRY'S MODE of life. because he could not spare time from his great picture; and if he went out in the evening, the Academicians would waylay him, and murder him. In this solitary, sullen life, he continued, till he felt ill, very probably from want of food under his blanket, he had just strength enough left to crawl sufficiently nourishing; and after laying two or three days to his own door, open it, and lay himself down, with a paper in his hand, on which he had written his wish to be carried to the house of Mr Carlyle (Sir Anthony), in Soho Square. There he was taken care of; and the danger from which he had thus escaped seems to have cured his mental hallucinations. He cast his slough afterwards; appeared decently drest in his own grey hair, and mixed in such society as he liked. "I should have told you, that a little before his illness, he had, with much persuasion, been induced to pass a night at some person's house in the country. When he came down to breakfast the next morning, and one asked how he had rested, he said, remarkably well: he had not slept in sheets for many years, and really he thought it was a very comfortable thing. He interlarded his conversation with oaths as expletives, but it was pleasant to converse with him :there was a frankness and animation about him which won good-will, as much as his vigorous intellect commanded respect. There is a story of his having refused to paint portraits, and saying, in answer to applications, that there was a man in Leicester Square who did it. But this, he said, was false; for that he would at any time have painted portraits, and have been glad to paint them." A passage which we meet with a few pages farther on, we consider too severe; and as it is the only instance of the kind to be met with in the volume, we quote it, with the view of expressing our dissent: "Barry's residence in Castle Street, though wearing a decent exterior when he took possession, soon corresponded in look with the outward man of its master. The worst inn's worst room, in which the poet places the expiring Villiers, was equalled, if not surpassed, by that in which Barry slept, ate, and meditated in perfect satisfaction and security. His own character and whole system of in-door economy, were exhibited in a dinner he gave Mr Burke. No one was better acquainted with the singular manners of this very singular man than the great statesman; he wishTHE LATE EARL OF BUCHAN'S TREATMENT OF BARRY. ed, however, to have ocular demonstration how he managed "It was at this time of distress that the late Earl of Buhis household concerns, in the absence of wife or servant, chan, among others, stood forward in Barry's behalf. This and requested to be asked to dinner. Sir,' said Barry, nobleman desired to be thought public director in all matwith much cheerfulness, you know I live alone but if you ters of poetry and painting in Scotland. He spent his long will come and help me to eat a steak, I shall have it tender life in speaking kind words, writing encouraging letters, and and hot, and from the most classic market in London-that dispensing patronising looks, to all who had visited the Vaof Oxford.' The day and the hour came, and Burke arri- tican, or were found loitering about the nether regions of ving at No. 36, Castle Street, found Barry ready to receive Parnassus. On this occasion, he stirred himself more than him; he was conducted into the painting-room, which had was his wont, and astonished many by publicly subscribing undergone no change since it was a carpenter's shop. On ten pounds; he also interceded with the Society of Arts, one of the walls hung his large picture of Pandora, and and applied to many who thought favourably of Barry's round it were placed the studies of the Six Pictures of the talents. I wish he had done no more. He praised the set Adelphi. There were likewise old straining frames-old of proof engravings which Barry sent in a present to Drysketches a printing press, in which he printed his plates borough,-fell in love with others which were in London, with his own hand-the labours, too, of the spider abound-longed to possess an easel picture' as a memorial of friended, and rivalled, in extent and colour, pieces of old tapestry. ship,-condescended to name the picture he particularly "Burke saw all this yet wisely seemed to see it not. He affected, The Interview of Milton with Elwood the Quaobserved, too, that most of the windows were broken or ker,-and, finally, requested, in addition, a proof engraving cracked, that the roof, which had no ceiling, admitted the from the Birth of Pandora. The painter, pleased with all light through many crevices in the tiling, and that two old this condescension, sent a sketch of his Milton to the noble chairs and a deal table composed the whole of the furniture. The fire was burning brightly; the steaks were put on to have followed, but that that hand was soon to be laid upon speculator in subscriptions; and the easel picture' would broil, and Barry, having spread a clean cloth on the table, Barry which has recently fallen on his disinterested patron." put a pair of tongs in the hands of Burke, saying, Be useful, my dear friend, and look to the steaks till I fetch the porter.' Burke did as he was desired: the painter soon returned with the porter in his hand, exclaiming, What a misfortune! the wind carried away the fine foaming top as I crossed Titchfield Street.' They sat down together-the steak was tender, and done to a moment-the artist was full of anecdote, and Burke often declared, that he never spent a happier evening in his life. "Such is the story which has been often written and often repeated, and always with variations. Something like the scene thus disclosed to Mr Burke was exhibited, some time afterwards, to another eminent person, whose friendship has enabled me to enrich my narrative with the following graphic account : I wish,' says Mr Southey, 'I could tell you any thing which might be found useful in your succeeding volumes. I knew Barry, and have been adinitted into his den in his worst (that is to say, his maddest) days, when he was employed upon the Pandora. He wore at that time an old coat of green baize; but from which time had taken all the That a degree of almost pardonable vanity and fondness for dispensing patronage were among the failings of the late Earl of Buchan, we are not disposed to deny ; but that he was capable of the heartless meanness of preying upon the exigencies of an unfriended artist, we cannot believe. Though somewhat penurious in his personal habits, the Earl was a man of a warm heart, and frequently did generous things of which the world knew nothing. To Barry succeeds Blake-a poet-painter, whose enthusiastic imagination taught him to believe that he held converse with the world of spirits, and who painted not so much from existing nature, as from the shapes which were continually presenting themselves to him in his daydreams. He was nevertheless one of the happiest of his race; and, whether it be singular or not, this happiness is mainly to be attributed to his wife, concerning whom we have the following interesting particulars: BLAKE'S COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. She "When he was six-and-twenty years old, he married Katherine Boutcher, a young woman of humble connexions, -the dark-eyed Kate of several of his lyric poems. lived near his father's house, and was noticed by Blake for the whiteness of her hand, the brightness of her eyes, and a slim and handsome shape, corresponding with his own notions of sylphs and naiads. As he was an original in all things, it would have been out of character to fall in love like an ordinary mortal. He was describing one evening in company the pains he had suffered from some capricious lady or another, when Katherine Boutcher said, I pity you from my heart.'-'Do you pity me?' said Blake; then I love you for that. And I love you,' said the frank-hearted lass; and so the courtship began. He tried how well she looked in a drawing, then how her charms became verse; and finding, moreover, that she had good domestic qualities, he married her. They lived together long and happily. "She seemed to have been created on purpose for Blake: she believed him to be the finest genius on earth; she believed in his verse,-she believed in his designs; and to the wildest flight of his imagination she bowed the knee, and was a worshipper. She set his house in good order, prepared his frugal meal, learned to think as he thought, and, indulging him in his harmless absurdities, became, as it were, bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh. She learned -what a young and handsome woman is seldom apt to learn to despise gaudy dresses, costly meals, pleasant companies, and agreeable invitations. She found out the way of being happy at home, living on the simplest of food, and contented in the homeliest of clothing. It was no ordinary 'mind which could do all this, and she whom Blake emphatically called his beloved,' was no ordinary woman. She wrought off in the press the impressions of his plates,she coloured them with a light and neat hand,-made drawings much in the spirit of her husband's compositions, and almost rivalled him in all things, save in the power which he possessed of seeing visions of any individual, living or dead, whenever he chose to see them." This excellent woman-whose character partly reminds us of Klopstock's Meeta-was true to him to the last, and, after a long life of mutual affection, we find her soothing him on his death-bed: BLAKE'S LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. "He had now reached his seventy-first year, and the strength of nature was fast yielding. Yet he was to the last cheerful and contented. I glory,' he said, ' in dying, and have no grief but in leaving you, Katherine; we have lived happy, and we have lived long; we have been ever together, but we shall be divided soon. Why should I fear death? nor do I fear it. I have endeavoured to live as Christ commands, and have sought to worship God truly in my own house, when I was not seen of men.' He grew weaker and weaker-he could no longer sit upright; and was laid in his bed, with no one to watch over him save his wife, who, feeble and old herself, required help in such a touching duty. "The Ancient of Days was such a favourite with Blake, that three days before his death, he sat bolstered up in bed, and tinted it with his choicest colours, and in his happiest style. He touched and retouched it-held it out at arm's length, and then threw it from him, exclaiming, There! that will do! I cannot mend it.' He saw his wife in tears -she felt this was to be the last of his works' Stay, Kate,' cried Blake, keep just as you are-I will draw your portrait-for you have ever been an angel to me.' She obeyed, and the dying artist made a fine likeness. "The very joyfulness with which this singular man welcomed the coming of death, made his dying moments intensely mournful. He lay chanting songs, and the verses and the music were both the offspring of the moment. He lamented that he could no longer commit these inspirations, as he called them, to paper. Kate,' he said, I am a changing man-I always rose and wrote down my thoughts, whether it rained, snowed, or shone, and you arose too, and sat beside me-this can be no longer.' He died on the 12th of August 1828, without any visible pain; his wife, who sat watching him, did not perceive when he ceased breathing." The affection and fortitude of Mrs Blake, entitle her to much respect. "She shared her husband's lot," says Mr Cunningham," without a murmur,-set her heart solely upon his fame, and soothed him in those hours of misgi ving and despondency, which are not unknown to the strongest intellects. She still lives to lament the loss of Blake, and feel it." Opie, the vivid painter of individual nature,-Morland, wonderful for his skill of hand, and power of extracting the picturesque from the most familiar scenes,-Bird, best known by his productions entitled "Good News," "The Choristers Rehearsing," and "The Will," and Fuseli, the "noblest Roman of them all," who had a reach of thought, and a poetic feeling, "a comprehension for all that is great, and an imagination for all that is lofty," beyond any other painter whom this country ever possessed,-fill up the remainder of the volume, which we heartily recommend to our readers, and for the great entertainment derived from which we feel ourselves debtors to Mr Cunningham. Eldred of Erin. A Poem. By Charles Doyne Sillery, Thou my sweet solace, thou my comfort art; That I forget the cold world's scorn in thee; "Yes, I have loved thee better than the world- My treasured harp!-Oh! if mankind but knew For him-for all; he then might be more true To one whose pulse must throb, and cease to throb, with you! "Thus, as he spoke with tear-brimm'd eyes, he raised For aye he loved his Bible and his lyre; But now in mournful strain he touched each trembling SONG. "Where are the flowers of the wild-wood?- For ever!-Oh, Heaven! for ever! Oh! never!" We are pleased with the following stanzas: "When silence slept upon the moonlit sea, And not a tree, nor vale, nor house, nor hill, All round the horizon met the straining viewThe blank and bleak monotony to fill Save the far fields of boundless ocean blue, The the cheap and popular form of monthly numbers. portraits are all executed in the first style of art; and the accompanying memoirs are judiciously condensed from the Paved with the stars of heaven, that tremblingly shone best authorities. As a specimen, we have pleasure in through, "Then would fond Fancy wing her fairy flight Away! away! far o'er the sleeping foam, Over those crystal buried worlds of light, Back to her native mountains and her homeAh me! thought I, how painful 'tis to roam From all on earth we valued and held dear; From the lov'd land where laughing eyes would come To charm us with their virtue-then the tear Gush'd from my labouring heart, and fell-as it falls here. "Oh! it were bliss to be but in that land Where they are sleeping in the cold, cold clay; Where once I wander'd, gaily, hand in hand, With those who lov'd me dearly many a day :— The friend of this frail throbbing bosom-yea, The more than friend,—the faithful and the fair; The parent too-Oh! all-all snatch'd away; Well may I weep-my earnest, only prayer, Is, that this heart were hush'd in slumber with them there." A song, which we find near the conclusion, is simple and poetical: SONG. "She died in beauty!-like a rose She died in beauty!-like the song She died in beauty!-like the snow She lives in glory!-like Night's gems She lives in glory-like the sun presenting our readers with the account that is given of Drake, a name closely interwoven with many a feeling that is dear to Englishmen : SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. "Drake, who, it is said, was born in Tavistock in 1545, was a seaman from his cradle, and applied to his profession talents which might have rendered him eminent in any character, with such undeviating perseverance that we never find him for an instant in any other. In his early manhood he became purser of a merchant ship trading to Spain, and afterwards accompanied Sir John Hawkins to South America, eminently distinguishing himself in the more glorious than fortunate exploits of that expedition. Drake lost in it the whole of that little which he had saved in his more humble employments, but he returned with a reputation which presently attracted public attention, and with a knowledge of the wealth, and an experience of the naval warfare and resources of Spain in those parts, which enabled him to form the most promising plans for his future prosperity. In 1573 he sailed from Plymouth, in a ship named the Pascha, accompanied by another in which he had performed his two former voyages, called the Swan, in which he placed one of his brothers, John Drake. On board these vessels, which were of very moderate burden, he had no more than seventy-three men and boys; yet with this slender force he stormed the town of Nombre de Dios, in the Isthmus of Darien, and soon after seized that of Venta Cruz, where he obtained a considerable booty; but the most important result of these acquisitions was the interception of a convoy of plate, as it was the custom then to call it, of such enormous bulk, that he abandoned the silver from mere inability to convey it, and brought only the gold to his ships. It is needless to say that he returned with immense wealth, and enriched beyond all the occasions of even splendid domestic life. Drake, in his last American voyage, had formed an imperfect outline of the enterprise which afterwards immortalized his name. He had descried,' says Camden, from some mountains, the South Sea. Hereupon the man being inflamed with ambition of glory and hopes of wealth, was so vehemently transported with desire to na We shall probably offer a few remarks upon “ Eldred vigate that sea, that, falling down upon his knees, he imof Erin" ere long. A Letter to his Grace the Duke of Wellington, &c. &c. &c. On the Currency. By James Taylor, of Bakewell. London. John Taylor. 1830. 8vo. Pp. 79. THERE are two classes of men who are always most forward in speaking their minds on the economical arrangements of the nation; and between whom, on account of the mischief they do, by circulating partial and incorrect views, it would be difficult to settle the point of precedency. The first consists of men who are deep read in systematic works of political economy, but who have no practical experience of life, and are continually exposing the most just and philosophical principles to ridicule, by insisting upon applying them to the regulation of circumstances with which they have not the most remote connexion. The second consists of men, who, acute enough within the sphere of their own limited dealings, conceive their narrow experience sufficient to enable them to teach how all the exigencies of a mighty nation should be met. Of this latter class is Mr James Taylor. Those who undertake to guide and enlighten public opinion may find his pamphlet of use, as an indication of the wishes of a considerable portion of the community, and as containing, in a tangible form, some of the most prevalent misapprehensions on the subjects it discusses. Beyond this, we cannot well see what purpose its publication can serve. Lodge's Portraits and Memoirs of the Most Illustrious Personages of British History. London. Harding and Lepard. 1830. We formerly took occasion to allude to this work in terms of much commendation. It is now publishing in plored the Divine assistance, that he might at some time or other sail thither, and make a perfect discovery of the same; and hereunto he bound himself with a vow. From that time forward, his mind was pricked continually to perform that vow.' He now besought and obtained the aid and countenance of Queen Elizabeth to his project for a voyage thither; an undertaking to which no Englishman had ever yet aspired. In 1577 he sailed from Plymouth, carefully concealing from his comrades of all ranks the course that he intended to take, and entering the Straits of Magellan, where, a terrible storm separating him from the other ships, he proceeded alone. On quitting the Straits, he sailed, still mo lested by tempest, to the coast of Chili and Peru, attacking the Spanish settlements, which were wholly defenceless; and, having obtained immense spoil, prepared to return to England. Apprehensive, however, of the vengeance of the Spaniards, among whom the alarm was now fully spread, he determined to avoid the track by which he had entered the Pacific Ocean; and, returning to England by the Cape of Good Hope, landed at Plymouth, on the 3d of Novemnber, 1580, the first of his countrymen by whom the honour of circumnavigating the whole of the known world had ever been enjoyed. His arrival in London was hailed by the multitude with the utmost extravagance of approbation, and Queen Elizabeth visited him on board his ship at Deptford, partook of a splendid banquet which he had provided, and conferred on him the honour of knighthood, commanding, among many other compliments of the most flattering nature, that the vessel in which he had achieved the voyage should be carefully preserved, as a precious memorial of his merit, and of the glory of her realm. These testimonies of approbation produced in Drake their usual effect on generous and active minds, an ardent desire to signalize himself by further exploits. The rank, however, to which his fame and his immense wealth had now raised him in society, forbade the further prosecution of that order of enterprise from which he had derived them; and some years elapsed before Elizabeth's determination to commence offensive hostilities | against Spain enabled her to call his powers into action in her immediate service. At length, in the ever-memorable service which terminated in the destruction of the Invincible Armada,' Drake, whom Elizabeth had appointed viceadmiral under Lord Howard of Effingham, had the chief share. His sagacity, his activity, and his undaunted courage, were equally conspicuous in the series of mighty actions which composed it; and the terrible vengeance experienced by the dispersed and flying Armada was inflicted principally by his division of the fleet. Don Pedro de Valdes, a Spanish admiral, by whom the enterprise had been planned, deemed it an honour to have surrendered to him, and was long entertained by him with a generous hospitality, which proved that Drake was as well versed in the chivalrous courtesies as in the essentials of war. "In 1587, Drake undertook, at his own expense, to bring to the town of Plymouth, which he represented in Parliament, a supply of spring water, of which necessary article it suffered a great deficiency. This he accomplished, by means of a canal or aqueduct, above twenty miles in length. It has been erroneously asserted, that Sir Francis Drake died a bachelor. He married, probably in his middle age, Elizabeth, daughter and heir of Sir George Sydenham, of Combe Sydenham, in Devonshire, who survived him, and re-married to William Courtenay, of Powderham Castle, in the same county. He left, however, no issue; and his brother Thomas became his heir, and was succeeded by his eldest son Francis, who was created a baronet in 1622, and is at present represented by his lineal descendant, Sir Francis Henry Drake, of Buckland Monachorum, in the county of Devon." We can conceive few more valuable additions either to public or private libraries than this truly excellent and national work. The Drama brought to the Test of Scripture, and found Wanting. Edinburgh. William Oliphant. 1830. 12mo. Pp. 131. In spite of all the odium which bigots have attempted to cast upon it, the stage is, in every civilized country, a great moral engine. It has, indeed, its defects and its faults, but ought the art of printing to be discouraged, because the press may occasionally disseminate falsehood and error?-ought the pulpit to be pulled down, because it is sometimes taken possession of by the hypocritical and the depraved? It is through the medium of our external senses that the mind is, in general, most powerfully affected; and hence the very pomp and circumstance," the glitter and the show, of a theatre, are to the great majority of the audience a thousand times better concomitants to the lessons of fortitude, integrity, or patriotism, which the poet may inculcate, than the bare walls and uninterrupted solitude of one's own closet. It is upon this principle that the more sensible portion of the Roman Catholics countenance that multiplicity of ritual observances and empty ceremonies with which their religion is loaded. Abstract excellence-pure and unadorned virtue, is of too spiritual an essence to attract the regard, and fix the attention, of the multitude. The wholesome draught must be crowned with flowers and seasoned with sweets, else the goblet will be sent away untasted. It is also worth observing, that the stage invariably follows, and never attempts to precede, public opinion. It does not, therefore, so much guide, as it is guided by, the moral character of the people at large. Before the Reformation, the theatre varied little from the cathedral; for within the walls of each the rites and mysteries of Catholicism almost equally prevailed. In the dissolute and profane days of Charles the Second, the stage, carried away by the current, was obliged to admit the ascendancy of such men as Vanburgh and Congreve. In later times, as the national manners improved, the stage has assumed a purer and a higher tone, for the authors who write must invariably adapt themselves to the audiences who judge. This being the case, he who attempts to convict the stage of immorality, pronounces a libel against his fellow-countrymen. stage representations immoral, but is strongly inclined to believe, that every sober citizen whom one may see in the pit, or respectable mother of a family whom one may behold in the boxes, will be consigned to devouring flames through the whole course of eternity. As for the performers themselves, they are irretrievably damned; and the hackney-coachmen who convey parties to the theatre, have no more chance of salvation, than if they were so many Beelzebubs. Dramatic critics have just as little hope; and a whole convocation of bishops could not keep writers of plays one hour out of the bottomless pit. With a person who entertains such sentiments, it is hopeless to argue. Wrapped up in the hairy mantle of selfrighteousness, he looks, half in pity and half in scorn, on the rest of the world; and though he richly deserves an hour or two of the gridiron for his presumption, we think existence, and then to pass him by with the calm supeit better merely to acknowledge that we are aware of his riority of silence. The Glasgow Medical Journal. Conducted, by Andrew Buchanan, M. D., &c., and William Weir M. D., &c. February, 1830. Glasgow. R. Griffin and Co. WE are not particularly well acquainted with the history of this periodical. It is well known, that the physicians of our own city, proud of the well-merited reputation for medical science which Edinburgh has long enjoyed, affect to consider themselves a sort of professional aristocracy. In particular, they profess no great respect for the skill of their brethren in the Western metropolis; and this may be one reason why the Glasgow Medical Journal is so little known amongst us. Judging by what we have seen of it, however, we have no hesitation in saying that it deserves an extensive circulation. There is much useful information contained in the present Number. The best article is a very able paper by the Editor, Dr A. Buchanan, on " Erysipelas, and the Diseases resembling it," in which our eminent townsman, Dr John Thomson, is somewhat roughly handled; but though the essay is pretty highly spiced with odium medicum, it indicates a degree of talent and medical knowledge highly creditable to the author, and auguring well for the Journal, of which he has, we believe, only recently become the Editor. The History of Dunbar, from the Earliest Records to the Present Period; with a Description of the Ancient Castles and Picturesque Scenery on the Borders of East Lothian. By James Miller, Author of "St Baldred of the Bass." Dunbar. William Miller. 1830. 8vo. Pp. 292. THOUGH, of course, more of local than of general interest, this is a work indicative of considerable research and ability. It is divided into four Parts. Part first contains the "Military Annals" of Dunbar, and its adjoining castle, including the history of the twelve Earls of Dunbar, and a brief summary of Scottish affairs, in as far as they had any reference to Dunbar, from the earliest down to the present times. This summary is well written, and appears to be accurate in all respects, except in the view it gives of the character of Queen Mary, which seems to us in the highest degree erroneous and unjust. Part second contains the Ecclesiastical Annals of Dunbar ;-Part third, its civil and domestic history; and Part fourth, an account of its ancient castles and picturesque scenery. Works of this kind often furnish materials for the more general historian, and, at all events, have a tendency to give to certain portions of their native land an additional value in the eyes of the inhabitants. Miller has executed his task in a manner that reflects credit upon himself, and which cannot fail to make his name respected and esteemed throughout all East Lo The author of the book before us not only declares all thian, Mr |
