and artificial, and as to Popo, "whilst the Rape of
the Loch was Ilotch-Pot. By Umbra. (Edmonstone and Douglas.)—Really this admired by fine ladies and gentlemen, the Scotch fishermen's wives almost verges on the confines of too bad. Here are the materials for- sang their children to sleep with ballads whose passion and tender- two magazine articles of the padding order, spun into a little volume ness," &c., &c. What can be more convincing ? As to Gray, Shenstone, certainly of most attractive exterior, but of which the title is a mia- Akenside, and Collins, nobody, we infer, sang their children to sleep neuter. There is very little of a hotch-pot--only a picnic at Here- with their odes and sonnets, any more than with the Essay on Man ; any- burg and a voyage to the Scilly Islands, both divisions depending on how, they are not mentioned. There was a faint impression of Cowper the smartness of style for success, and the smartness is hardly success- on the mind of Mr. Grant in connection with a tea-urn, but the book ful. The humour of the Homburg picnic depends on an etymological was obviously not on hand for reference. We go on, with equally die- Irishman, and that of the Scilly performance upon the jest of applying,. criminating assistance, through Scott, Byron, Moore, and Shelley, to with a sort of "damnable iteration," the term " tyrant " to Mr. Augustus- Tennyson, but with Brimley and Caldwell Roscoe to refer to it does not Smith, the lessee of the islands. One would have thought " the foe of seem to concern us much to know that Mr. Grant thinks In Memoriam tyrants " would have been a more fitting title for the hero of Berk- overpraised, that it is interesting to compare Elaine with the Lady of hampstead Common, but this is also an etymological joke ; Tyrannus- Shanot, or that the Pallace of Art is no great favourite of his. This is used in its Greek and good sense. The tyrant of the Chersoneso was- string of critiques would be "a great favourite " of ours, at Jena Freedom's best and firmest friend ; so Mr. Smith figures through many on a juicy day, with all the Tauchnitzes sold out. We had almost pages as the tyrant of Scilly. But this is being driven to as bad a strait forgotten the fifty-one pages which polish off the prose writers of the for a joke as was Mr. Dickens, when he introduced "the analytical" last hundred years ; the first two wore Carlyle and Bulwer, and the last dispenser of champagne, and was no delighted with the humour of the are Kingsley and George Eliot. This, as old Lady Kew intimated to thing, as to repeat it until we got; to dread it like the monotonous dropping
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