REVIEWER'S DECAMERON.

\,, LITERARY SPECTATOR.

JIFF OF LOCKE, BY LORD KING.

LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD.

LOVES OF THE POETS, EY THE "ATJTHOR OF THE DIARY OF AN EZZNUYEE.

RYBRENT DE CRUCE, A NOVEL.

GERALDINE OF DESMOND, AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE.

THE ICING'S PAGE.

STORIES OF POPULAR VOYAGES AND TRAVELS.

THE BRUNSWICK, A SATIRE.

A CRITIC, whose business it is to pass in review the publications of the day, ought to haverthe facility of the advocate, who transfers his elo- quence from an affair of demurrage to another of trim. con. or from a horse cause to high treason. Surely there are no transitions morn ra- pid or more violent, than to throw away a fashionable novel, and to take up the analysis of LocKE's Essay by the author lianself—to pass from the gravity and the earnestness of a great philosopher of a formal period, to the off-hand dashing productions of a modern pen, Lord CHESTERFIELD—the Lord CITESTERFIELD of King CHARLES the Second's time—was a famous lover in his day ; and half his epistles are amatory, whether from his own pen or from those of his corre- spondents ; and yet how-strangely different is the style of expressing the feelings of admiration and affection in those days, from the elegance and finish and delicacy with which a lady author has discussed the Loves of the Pacts ! If the reader will have the complaisance to suppose his critic im- mured in' the solitude of a rustic abode, with no other companions than a packet of new hooks, whose names he has just inscribed at.the head of this article, it will be clear to him that no existing society could.. afford greater variety—that no occupations can be more distinct than the perusal of its differeaticontents. Fishing with a fly, and trolling with a gudgeon, are not-More distinct—the brawling brook, and the stagnant pool—the mouldering walls of the half-barn half-castle which form the principal object from the window on the seat of which this small library reposes, and the same castle three hundred years ago, when its battlements bristled with men at arms. There is the venerable LOCKE himself, with his stately pleasantry, and his assiduous pursuit of truth : the gay lover cif the famous Duchess of CLEVELAND, with his polished formality, his gracious bag wig and sword, his political honesty and his moral profligacy, the second Lord CHESTERFIELD,— .he of whom and of his lady the witty author of the Memoirs of GRAMMONT speaks not seldom : then we have the resuscitated Ennuy6e, the languishing, dying, dead elegante, who has risen again to dream of poetry and love : she has plenty of female company, and we the critic, it will be seen, mast be prepared in our hermitage, like Lord CHES- TERFIELD, to make love to five women at a time. Several of his let- ters are addressed to a fair unknown, who walked with him the whole of four nights, but who she was he never could discover :—with how many fair unknown authoresses have we spent the night, not in walk- ing, but in gossippin 2,- by proxy over their works ; and here, in this very bower, we have the geed or Muck to find no fewer than three ! Lord CHESTERFIELD WaS excessively piqued • because the lady with whom he spent so many agreeable hours—whose hands, arms, neck, and " humour" lie dwells upon with so such delight—never would discover herself:—we do. not share his vexation ; we maybe ungallant in con- fessing it, but the truth, is, we have read and criticised far too many authoresses ever to wish to see the face of one of them. The Ennuyk perhaps might he made an exception: we are sure she is gentle and gentle-voiced, unassuming and sensible : but Heaven preserve us from the sturdy historian in petticoats, who, after having thumbed all the dusty old folio tracts about Ireland, has digested them down into a stubborn romance of three large volumes, thick with facts, abounding with personages great and small, and above all laden with fine phrases and historical notes, JonNsoN's Dictionary, and the library of Trinity College, Dublin, to boot—to say nothing of the imprimatur of Mr. THOMAS CAMPBELL (if it be he who is meant " by the Right Hon. the Lord Rector of the University of Glasgow, one of the first critics of the age"), the dedication to MooaE, and a dissertation upon the ques- tion how far Geraldine of Desmond differs from the true epopoeia as laid down by ARISTOTLE and exemplified in Telemachus! The volumes themselves are formidable enough : if they came upon us in the shape of flesh and blood, we should abandon our cottage like the peasants be- fore the approach of Frankenstein's monster. The authoress of Ry- brent de Cruce is another sort of person, not so deserving as the in- dustrious compiler of Elizabeth and her Times inireland (as Geraldine of Desmond might be called), but at the same time not quite so great a bore : she is one of the true blue-backed school—a niece of MARIA REGINA ROCHE, of Children of the Abbey memory, with, however, not half the talent of her romantic aunt ; and we do not think it grate- ful in her that she has deserted the establishment in Leadenhall-street, which so long was the means of issuiug to the world the works of all her numerous relatives of the Minerva Press. The truth is, that Mr. COLBURN has entirelyt superseded Mr. NEwst AN : the snuffy old maids who take opium, never wash the ink from their finger-ends, and write the ancient novel, now persecute the shopmen of New Burlington Street, and no longer direct their hackney-coaches to the India House. The modern novel—like the King's Page, for example—is quite a different affair, and comes from a different source. But enough of these obstructors of the course of true love, which, if it did never run smooth in life, in their pages certainly has ever had a most tortuous passage.

Ten days arc but a brief seclusion when the character of LOCKE forms a chief subject of contemplation ; and we shall be forgiven, we trust, even by the fair Geraldine and Mrs. Rybrent de Cruce herself, if we honestly own, that much time larger share of our nights and days were devoted to his valuable remains. The task of his noble editor has been little more than that of selection : his materials were ample, and he has exorcised a reasonable discretion. The part which claims

Lard-KING as its author is small, angle does not appear to have be- stowed much•time upon it. The composition is rough and careless.

No two things can be much more different than the talent§ of speak- ing and writing ; and in this instance it would seem, that the clear_ headed epigrammatic orator is neither a forcible nor perspicuous bio- grapher. The art of arranging thoughts on paper is an art that re- quires time ; and though all the world expects to have it by inspire- Lion, it never comes but by labour and practice. The business of stringing together extracts, letters, and portions of MSS. is moreover

one which leads to a good deal of hastiness of expression, and prevents the .student from sitting down soberly to the -clothing of his own thoughts in suitable language. When Lord SHAFTESBURV, the power- ful and ready orator, wished to dress his thoughts in the deliberate costume of writing, he employed the pen of LOCKE. The character of LOCKE approaches nearer to that of the beamt ideal of a philosopher than perhaps'any other on record : there was an antique simplicity about him, combmedWith a conscientious and scrupulous love of the truth for its own sake, of which the examples are found only in more enlightened times. His great talents were set oft' with such incorruptible honesty—his love of true liberty, of tolera- tion, of the freedom of opinion, so heightened by his political, sagacity, his mild temperament and universal information—that we should look in vain in the animals of the world for a more elevated and glorious example of human virtue. His great mind was cast in a feeble frame, and his temper at tithes is said to have been irritable ;—behold the amount that all the envy, hatred, and malice of the world, has elm been able to set against the account of his virtues ! This volume con- tains the materials of the moral biography of LOCKE : there is only wanting some artificer to cast them into the finest of human moulds. In the escritoir in which they were placed by the atithothimselt and in which they were received by the ancestor of Lord KING—the friend, relative, and eaecutor of the philosopher—still remain the MSS. of all kinds of the p;reat moral philosopher, JOHN LOCKE. The escritoir was removed about 1716.to Ockham, by Sir PETER KING, where it still re- Mains a precious heirloom. It contains the original MSS. of LOCK E'S printed works, of several works not printed, diaries, journals, and com- monplace-books, together with a large and copious collection of let- ters written by LOCKE himself, by Sir ISAAC NEWTON, the famous Lord PETERBOROUGH, the still more celebrated Lord SHA.FTESBURY, and numerous other individuals. From this mass of papers has been selected the quarto before us. It is interesting in every possible point of view—to the politician, the philosopher moral and physical, to the man.

The materials in these volumes enable us to trace the philosopher from the prime of manhood to the last ebb of life ; and if we were ever edified by a description of the declining moments of an illustri- ous character, it has been during these ten days' retreat from the bustle of the world. Let those who talk of philosophy, and practise worldli- ness, contemplate the glorious picture of a great mind setting in mild splendour on the evening of a long and noble day, as it is set forth in nearly the latest letter JOHN LOCKE ever wrote. It is addressed to his relative and executor. How calm and beautiful is the invitation of the philosopher to collie and spend a few last hours of colloquy with

him, before the final dissolution of the cottage !

" Oates, June 1, 1704.

" I have received no letters from you since the 20th. I remember it is the end of a Term, a busy time with you, and you intend to he here speedily, which is better than writing at a distance. Pray be sure to order your matters so as to spend all the next with me : as far as I can impartially guess, it will be the last week I am ever like to have with you ; for if I mistake not very much, I have very little time left in the world. This comfortable, and to me usually restorative season of the year, has no effect upon me for the better : on the contrary, my shortness of breath, and uneasiness, every day increase ; my stomach, without any visible cause, sensibly decays, so that all appearances concur to warn me, that the dissolution of this cottage is not far off. Refuse not, therefore, to help me to pass some of the, last hours of my life as easily as may be in the conversation of one who is not only the nearest, but the dearest to me of any man in the world. I have a great many things to talk to you, which I can talk to nobody else about. I therefore desire you again, deny not this to my affection. I know nothing at such a time so desirable, and so useful, as the conversation of a friend one loves and relies on. It is a week free from business, or if it were not, perhaps you would have no reason to repent the bestowing a day or two upon me. Make haste, therefore, on Saturday, and be here early : 1 long till I see you. I writ to you in my last to bring some cherries with you, but fear they will be troublesome to you ; and these things that entertain the senses, have lost with me a great part of their relish ; therefore, give not yourself any trouble about them ; such desires are usually but the fancy-seeking pleasure in one thing, when it has missed it in another, and seeks in vain for the delight which the indisposition of the body has put an end to. When I have your company, I shall forget these kind of things. I am, dear cousin, your most affectionate, J. Loess." Of another great philosopher, the immortal NEWTON, this volume also gives us a nearer view than perhaps we have had hitherto : it lets us more into the real interior of that extraordinary man's temper and character. For the best, we may say the only life,, that has been written of this great man, we are indebted to a French astronomer, BIOT : it is inserted in the voluminous Biographie Unirerselle, and brings to light several facts relating to the mental history of NEWTON,— such, for instance, as NawTosi's mental alienation about the middle of his life, attributable probably to his intense application, or partly per- haps to the burning of his papers ; and the still more extraordinary fact of his never after this time having extended or increased his vast discoveries. We see also evidences of his particularity of temper, his sensitiveness, and his scrupulosity : on all which and other parts of his character, a flood of light is cast by only three letters in the present collection. The first two are not printed here for the first time,

"NEWTON to LOCKE.

" Sir,—Being of opinion that you endeavoured to embroil me with women and by other means, I was so much affected with it as that when one told me you were sickly and would not live, I answered, 'twere better if you were aead. I desire you to forgive me this uncharitableness. For I am now satisfied that what you have done is just, and I beg your pardon for my having hard thoughts of you for it, and for representing that you struck at the root of morality, in a principle you laid down jp your book of ideas, and designed to pursue in another book, and that I took you for a Hobbist. I beg your pardon also for saying or thinking that there was a design to sell me an office, or to embroil me. 1 am your most humble and unfortunate servant,

" At the Bull Inn, Shoreditch, London, Sept. Ifith, 1593. is. NEWTON..

" LOCKE to NEWTON. Oates, Oct. 5th, 93.

" Sir,—I have been ever since I first knew you, so entirely and sincerely your friend, and thought you so much mine, that I could not have believed what you tell me of yourself; had I had it from any budy else. And though I cannot but be mightily troubled that you should have had so many wrong and unjust thoughts of me, yet next to the return of good offices, such as from a sincere good will I have ever done you, I receive your acknowledg- ment of the contrary as the kindest thing you cold have done me, since it gives me hopes that I have nut lost a friend I so much valued. After what your letter expresses, I shall not need to say anything to justify myself to you. I shall always think your own reflection on my carriage both to you and all mankind, will sufficiently do that. Instead of that, give me leave to assure you, that I am more ready to forgive you than you can be to desire it ; and I do it so freely and fully, that I wish for _nothing, more than the opportunity to convince you that I truly love and esteem you ; and that I have still the same good will for you as if nothing of this had happened. To confirm this to you more fully, I should be glad to meet you anywhere, and the rather, be- cause the conclusion of your letter makes me apprehend it would not be wholly useless to you. But whether you think it fit or not, I leave wholly to you. I shall always be ready to serve you to my utmost, in any way you shall like, and shall only need your commands or permission to do it.

" My book is going to the press for a second edition; and though I can answer for the design with which I writ it, yet since you have so opportunely given me notice of what you have said of it, I should take it as a favour, if you would point out to me the places that gave occasion to that censure, that by explaining myself bettdr, I may avoid being mistaken by others, or unawares doing the least prejudice to truth or virtue. I am sure you are so much a friend to them both, that were you none to me, I could expect this from you. But I cannot doubt but you would do a great deal more than this for my sake ; who after all have all the concern of a friend for you, wish you extremely well, and am without compliment, lee."

" To P. KING, Esq. M.P. Oates, April 30th, 1703.

" Dear Cousin,—I am puzzled in a little affair, and must beg your assist- ance for the clearing of it. Mr. Newton, in Autumn last, made me a visit here ; I showed him my Essay upon the Corinthians, with which he seemed very well pleased, but had not time to look it all over, but promised me if I would send it him, he would carefully peruse it, and send me his observations and opinion. I sent it him before Christmas, but hearing nothing from him, I about a month or six weeks since writ to him, as the enclosed tells you, with the remaining part of the story. When you have read it, and sealed it, I desire you to deliver it at your convenience. He lives in German. street : you must not go on a Wednesday, for that is his day for being at the Tower. The reason why I desire you to deliver it to him yourself is, that I would fain discover the reason of his so long silence.; I have several reasons to think him truly my friend, but he is a nice man to deal with, and a little too apt to raise in himself suspicions where there is no ground ; therefore, when you talk to him of my papers, and of his opinion of them, pray do it with all the tenderness in the world, and discover if you can, why he kept them so long, and was so silent. But this you must do without asking why he did so, or discovering in the least that you are desirous to know. You will do well to acquaint him, that you intend to see me at Whitsuntide, and shall be glad to bring a letter to me from him, or any thing else he will please to send ; this perhaps may quicken him, and make him despatch these papers if he has not done it already. It may a little let you into the freer discourse with him, if you let him know that when you have been here with me, von have seen me busy on them (and the Romans too, if he mentions them, for I told him I was upon them when he was here) and have had a sight of some part of what I was doing.

" Mr. Newton is really a very valuable man, not only for his wonderful

skill in mathematics, but in divinity too, and his great knowledge in the Scriptures, wherein 1 know few his equals. And therefore pray manage the whole matter so as not only to preserve me in his good opinion, but to in- crease me in it, and be sure to press him to nothing, but what he is forward in himself to do. In your last, you seemed desirous of my corning to town ; I have many reasons to desire to he there, but I doubt whether ever I shall see it again. Take not this for a splenetic thought; I thank God I have no melancholy on that account, but I cannot but feel what I feel; my shortness of breath is so far from being relieved by the renewing season of the. year as it used to be, that it sensibly increases upon me. 'Twas not therefore in a fit of dispiritedness, or to prevail with you to let me see you, that in my former I mentioned the shortness of the time I thought I had in this world. I spoke it then, and repeat it now upon sober and sedate consideration. I have several things to talk to you of, and some of present concernment to yourself, and I know not whether this may not be my last time of seeing you. I shall not die the sooner for having cast up my reckoning, and judging as impartially of my state as I can. I hope I shall not live one jot the less cheerfully the time that I am here, nor neglect any of the offices of life whilst I have it ; for whether it be a month, or a year, or seven years longer, the longest any one out of kindness or compliment can propose to me, is so near nothing when considered, and in respect of eternity, that if the sight of death can put an end to the comforts of life, it is always near enough, especially to one of my age, to have no satisfaction in living.

" I am your affectionate cousin, and humble servant, J. L." The latter part of the last letter is in the same fine strain as the letter

we have already quoted respecting the philosopher's days of decline : they refer to the same period nearly ; and it was not long after that he ceased to breathe, in his arm-chair of the library in the hospitable mansion where he had long resided, the house of Sir FRANCIS NASHAM, at Oates, near High Laver, Essex. With a book like this before us—with the power of studying the very elements of the origin and progress of the Essay of the Human Understandhig—with the power of contemplating the traits of that political character out of which sprung the Essay on Toleration—is it to be wondered if we looked with an eye of small favour or the more ephemeral productions of Mr. COLBURNS press,—for be it observed, we are indebted to him for the pulp as well as the rind : he is the pub- lisher of the Life of Locke, as well as the novel of Rybrent de Cruce. Lord CHESTERFIELD too is not an unworthy stud}' either for the historian or the moralist : the Memoir prefixed to the Letters, and the Letters themselves,' display the character of an honest but a libertine courtier of the dissolute reign of CHARLES the Second. Lord CHES- TERFIELD was a man of sense, integrity, independence of spirit, and expeAience of the world. His great usage of life had given a high polish to his manners in his commerce with men, and a vast distrust in his intercourse with women. The most remarkable point of his character, is his honesty in such degenerate times—in his history, that a man of his talents should never have risen to or accepted of high office in such eventful periods. When in Italy, during the Protec- torate, his uncle seized his property, and he was left to find his way home with twentv-five pounds in his pocket.. In France, he was at- tacked with an illness, and exhausted this whole stock of money, so that he was reduced to beg on the road ; and a Jesuit who encoun- tered hith on the way paid his expenses to Paris. On his return to London, he compromised with his uncle, and recovered his estates. CROMWELL offered him his daughter with twenty thousand pounds : CHESTERFIELD had the courage to refit:ie. He was shortly after sent to the Tower, for wounding Captain Wn A LEV in a duel ; and having in another duel killed his adversary, he was obliged to leave the country, only to return to it with the restored Monarch. Throughout the reigns of CHARLES the Second and JAMES, he shared an ordinary portion of place and favour, joined with sonic disgusts, which though they affected his- ease, did not shake his loyalty. He was one of the nobles who, though they did not approve the conduct of JAMES, could not consent to correct it by calling in the Prinde of ORANGE. 'WILLIAM the Third condescended to flatter him, and repeatedly used means to secure his services. Lord CHESTERFIELD could not however recon- cile it to his principles to take office under the Revolution ; he pre- ferred a quiet conscience and the luxurious ease of his philosophical retreat of Bretby. Here he remained through a period of great diffi- culty, and escaped nearly all the storms of the Restoration and all the cabals of the Revolution ; and here he lived till a short period before his death at a very advanced age. His Letters are formal, and circumlocutory at times : he seems always to be plotting how he shall come to a neatly-rounded conclu- sion,—a point to which he seems to attend much more than either to the grammar or the accuracy of his phrases. Sometimes, however, he unbends in sallies not without wit, and shows the liveliness of conversa- tion for which he has been noted, by the agreeableness of some of his raillery. The Letters are truly occasional,—being chiefly congratula- tory or consolatory: others relate to matters of political business, and many to affairs of gallantry ; more particularly those from and to Lady CASTLEMAINE, which are conceived with as great warmth as the forms of composition in those times would permit to be displayed : they confirm the suspicions that have been held concerning their early intercourse.

The historian may reap a considerable harvest of small circum- stances, but the book is not one of the PEPYS and EVELYN class : is not, like them, bursting with myriads of little facts, not of great: importance intrinsically, but prolific in their consequences : on the contrary, it is loose and phrasy, and what is to be learnt from it must be collected by one who knows the ground well. Still we are glad to have it, if it were only for the pleasure of being able to draw a por- trait of the letter-writer himself. We have said that occasionally he breaks through his formality, and indulges in case of style, as well as in ease of life at Bretby- : the two following brief letters (and all his letters almost are brief) have the least portion of his stiffness.

"To Mr. BATES. Brethy, June.

" am so well acquainted with your lasie temper, that when you tell me of your haying a law sute, you need not describe the uneasiness it brings. you. And yet so unweldy an adversary as the Lord of Lincoln (who is every night rocked in a cradle) ought to give you but little trouble, in chinparison. of what I am to expect from a Goliath, who makes Westminster-hall his bed- chamber, and a law sute his leachcrie ; I mean the Lord Hollis, who has taken, possession of some land of mine, onely in hopes that by tiring mee with se sute, I may at last sell it him the cheaper. Seriously I cannot much blames the Epicurean philosophers, who held that the haliiiiness of the gods diet chiefly consist in an inward satisfaction, attended with' idleness and ease ; for, when a man is past fiftie, he can hardly frame the idea of a pleasanter condition; and, therefore, it is wished you for many years by Sr, Your C." To one who walked 4 table nights with ?nee in St. Jeanws Park, and yet I rer knew who she RM.

" Madam,—Though I did never think it possible (at least for mee) to lie in love with any person without seeing their face, or knowing who they were, yet you have convinced mee of that mistake ; for the perfections of your shape, the beauty of your neck, the delicacy of your hands, the charms of an admi- rable voice, the pleasantness of your humour, and a grace that attends all your motions, have so captivated my sence, that I am forct to confess your victory, and declare I never yet found so absolute a conquerer, for my thoughts doe represent ynu as a deity that mankind ought to worship. But why—if your face be suitable to all the rest (which I can hardly doubt of,) doe you refuse to have it seen, and deny the king, the duke, and all the court, to know-who it is they so much admire ? or, how came Ito be honoured four nights together with your company, which you seem to refuse all other men, and yet, Et the same time, you protest I shall never know who you are ; which is, in effect to take away a man's hart, and never let him know who• has it. Certainly this is a new piece of cruelty, that was never before known to your sex, and so malitious an invention must deeds proseed from a very dangerous person; but all this cannot hinder mee from being, my dear I know not who, Your most passionat, obedient servant, C." One of the most agreeable and characteristic letters, however, is from that witty scoundrel Sir CHARLES SEDLEY :— ,, 1r2.

"My Lord,—When your lordship was last in town, you made mee an offer of some venison, which I did not then lay hold off, having no occation, neither was it then in season ; but now I would thank you for a warrant for a Int,:k, tho the town is so empty, that with all my bowling, tennis, drinking, and oth er generall acquaintance, I shall have much a doe to find company for a pasty : -besides. the distiction of Whig; and Tory loth much add to the present desolation. They are in my opinion (at least, the violent part on both sides) much of the same stuff at bottom, since they are so easily converted one in to an other, I mean self-interest. For instance, the Lord Sunderland, upon the Duches of Portchmouth's arrival], is received at court. The Lord Anglesey was voted a libellour, and his boock against the Duke of Ormond, a libell at the councill : so that tis thought hee will be three quarters Whigg. The Lord Vaughan is this week to be marryd to the Lady Anne Savile, notwithstanding hee voted her father an enemy to king and country, last sessions. Tho wee are not blest with poets, that can write us comedys equall to the auntients, I beleive never was an age so comicall as this ; and a laugher, where ever he turns himselfe, will have occation to hold his sides. Madame de Soyssons is ar- rived, whom the Lord Crafes (Lord Crofts, were he alive) would call Madame de Soyxante ; for shee is ten years older than her sister Mazarin ; but, whether our court will have her a beauty, a mis, a wit or pollitition, is not yet known.

" Ruinous play has grown the only divertion at Windsor; and a man

without a thousand gineys to venture is an asse ; and, on the contrary, as it has ever been the custome of people of quality that had infirmities, to intro- duce fashions that might hide them, soe they now cover their want of sence and conversation with extravagant play. Some considerable removes are to be made at Court ; but what they are your lordship cannot but know before mee, so I will not trouble you with my conjectures. I could allmost wish England were not so large, that it might fall within my dioces to visit your lordship, for I know no man I would speake more freely to, nor more willingly bear than your lordship, being without compliment or any regard to the

common close of a letter, your very obedient servant, C. S."

We have hardly left ourselves any room to speak of the other plats or rather entrentets of our critical festival. The Loves of the Poets is founded on a happy notion of extracting just the essence, as it were, of the biographies of the great poets—their attachments, or in other words, their sources of inspiration. The task is performed with truth and taste. We could not wish a delicate task more nicely handled. The narrative portion is elegant, the poetical pleasant, the critical just : what can we say more ? We were most pleased with the chapter on WALLER'S Sacharissa, afterwards Lady SUNDERLAND : Dr. DONNE'S portion is also highly interesting, though of course less new. The class of works which it most resembles, is the Literary Anecdotes of D'Isittotm. Mrs. JAMESON has, however, far more taste than that writer, though he may excel (as he ought to excel) the lady in research. The King's Page is a fashionable novel, written with a good deal of talent : the mariners of the day are well hit oft' and the characters of the leaders of toll drawn with something like a knowledge of the truth. The Duke of Ulsdale, in particular, is well done : it is a portrait in- tended for the Marquis of HERTFORD. We must allow that the King's Page came in now and then as a relief from soberer matters, and formed no bad companion in a morning's ramble.

Amongst other and minor works which made a part of our fare,

to which we have made no allusion, owe must not _neglect to com-

memorate a very pretty work, which and instructed us mightily had we not happened to know it all before—we

4 mean the Stories of Popular Voyages and Travels. The first and only

C. volume published relates to South America ; and contains an abridg-

ment of Captain HALL'S book, Captain HEAD'S, WATERTON'S, and Mr. WARD'S. These and similar works we had read: to those who have not read them, and to whom they are by age or by the nature of circumstances inaccessible, we warmly recommend this little volume. It would make a eharmin school-book, and teach more geography in rt-V-e-elt than most boyslearn.iii. a year. The lithographic plates are very neatly executed; and the talent of GEORGE CRUIKSHANK has been called intoplay,i in the picture of Mr. WATERTON on crocodile- back. Are—desidErite an elegant little lithographic map on one page : this may be given in the next edition.

The only morsel of verse we detected in our case, was a satire ; its

title more laconic than significant—The Brunswick. We found, after some investigation, that its subject was the fall of the Brunswick thea- tre last year ; a serious subject, and an old one, for a funny poem. Its style is even more obsolete than its topic ; for it is written in the ban- tering strain of Beppo, an imitation of which we never more expected to see " Cherry ripe" or the " Hunter's chorus" were not more hack- neyed. All this we regret, for the author has not only a facility in versifying-, but sense and talent : at least we fancy we detect these in the mist of badinage. The satire contains clever and smart things, and some couplets that will be repeated about town. We will just add the 19th and 20th stanzas of Canto. III.

" We're now the greatest people upon earth,

As all must know who've thought at all about it ; We have been taught so from our earliest birth, By all around us, and we cannot doubt it; Our loyal papers all proclaim our worth, Our players rant it, and our people shout it ; For various things we're famous, but the chief Is our great bullishness and love of beef.

" In the first place. John Bull the nation's nam'd; The name of Beef-caters our yeomen take ; Throughout the world our prowess is proclaim'd For cooking and for eating a beef-steak; Beef makes our warriors and prize-fighters famed, Who tight for beef, and call it glory's sake ; And when our happiness is past control, We always kill an ox, and roast him whole?'