The Express. — London, England, 1851-02-08 00:00:00

LITERATURE. L i res,gro. toe Sholar, the Gypsy, the Priest. By (femme Billieo w, author of the " Bible in Spain", and "The idyrsies ~f Spain." Three sob. Murray. That I.avengro--the Word Master—i's one per son with the author of " Metrical Translations from Thirty Langnages;" that the scholar and gyry is he who so learnedly talked to us of the Zincali in Spain, is one of the first impressions received on the perusal of this book. Is it then the literal autobiography o f George Barrow? By no means: the writer has r ,..nmiscd uo such history. To thaw who have eyes to ace, t h e writer reveals just so much as he plows of his own experience; against all who would hold him r e sponsible for every passage in the story of his hero, he can still plead the freedom of imaginative writing. Mr. Borrow has chosen to call his descriptions a dream of study and adventure; to recall the glow of young desire. the charm of beauty, the excitement of enterprise. and the remembrance of strange scenes, rather us past states of mind than us parts of the gnat universe of fact. The reader who can under stand the author's confidence• and respect his freedom will confess in these narratives the truthfulness of autobiographical writing with more than the fascina tion of wan:lnce. Lavengro, as his Often* friends called him, was the sots of a Col isish gentleman, who served Hing George w ith hi., ....emit. llis mother WWI descended from a Wally of Norman Ilugnenots. Of his exterior man he has said nothing, except that by it he has been claimed wort' thUll ones as kindred by gypsy and Jew. Without some account of his mind and its qualities, boat vet% RUM/ s.f his experiences would he inseam prehensitile. Ile who, standing high on the side of some inount.iin in an Alpine country, has seen far below u dello dark lagoon, slumbering in the shade of black pines, cypresses, and yews, and watched in that wild, savage spot the ravens hovering about the pines, filling the air with their uncouth note s, while the cry of an eagle has been hewed horn sonic neighbouring petik,—he who has marked the surface of that solitary and almost inacesssible Inke,assuming shapes occasionally numstrous, under the gusts of wind, while gloomy shadows were constantly changing its aspect -he has seen an emblem of the youth of Lavengro. Slow, Sensitive, retiring, mid haunted by strange fears, the boy was generally disliked. No precocious love of books and reading could account fur this habitual pensiveness. for his letters were a bore to him after other boys of his age had begun their Latin grammar. lie was without wishes and without hopes. The few tibia ts in which he took pleasure- the hedge rows, the sunshine, and the chirping of binds, were tanfortunattly all within the sphere of his enjoyment, and amnion: tolled forth no effort. But the time was at hand when the ice which had benumlall the child's mind was to be thawed, and is world of sensations awakened to which it had hitherto been an entire stranger. The hand that struck the true chord was that of Ite Foe. Est iteal ut first by the engraving in that immortal and truly English book, " 'birdman Crusoe," he braeci up his energies, and acquired at once , the art of reading and a spirit of adventure. this progress, slow enough at first, hutame by degrees more' nipid, till at length he found himself cantering before a steady breeze, and, under a shoulder-of-mutton sail, over Ihe mean of enchantment. A. laavengra's father was required to accompany the militia regiment in which he served, and always took his family with him, the lad had ample oppor tunities of seeing the country. Ile remembers , Norman crows and itsIII4JTIIIOUS French prison. l'rowlingabout the tiehls one slay, he met an old riper hunter, with a hog ordure reptiles thrown over h;aa sholleter. fat of the adder taus in those days a rieourite unguent fur rheumatism. This old man tells how he had men the king of the vipers, and never properly recovered from his fright. ! From the viper-hunter ressived a reptile, which had been tamed mail rendered harmless by the removal of the fangs, and used to tarry the creature about with him in hiswalks. ith thisst range contpunion lying concealed in his la-,era hcone day, enticed by boyish curiosity, entered the tent of a gipoy, which, as IS still Con,- was pitched in a nook of a green lane. The (iitanw. are the lust people in the world to submit to any such intrusion from a µsavior und, after a brief alterc aation. tie arm of a sturdy gipsy was raised to crush the daring boy, when the following scene took place, in which LAVENIIIIII /RIMINI:NA Tits Gypsies. I mak a motion whieh the viper understood ; and now, punt) disengaging itself from in %moon, where it hail lain perdu, it raised it. heal to a 11,41 with my face, and stared upon toy enemy with it. glittering (yes. ni in stood like one transtiscil, and the ladle., w ith which ho loot aim.,l a blow at me, now hung in the air like tlo hand w lint, ho bl it • his mouth w ar r‘tvit.l.ll. and his 41.0, Is came of a ) yellow, alone that plan. whishl..re the mark %shish I hare already described, and this sht, sew portecioadv, like tire. Ile stenal in this mann. r tor moue time; at Lot the Lune fell (non his hand, sad it. falling appear. d to rouse him fiom his stupor. conversation was here intenupted by the rude!' ii appearance of a gypsy horseman, who cum to warn the tribe to iinnwthate Hight, a deed of blued by 1111/ ltr the hand having just been discovered. The camp was soon ietru.k. and the gypsies departed, but often to Bill t las ettgro again. Enita Norman•croos and the fen country Lavengro nissatipanied his father to Edinburgh. Having cute r, -.l the High School, the boy wan neon to learn that these islands arc nut entirely inhabited by a angle rave. a. ‘,1.N61:-. aE, TINIA A T.T.AMON TT111401.01:1 - . " Scotland is a better rountry than England," said an ugly, blear-eyed lad, uhout a head and shoulders taller than myself, the lead, r gang of varlet. who surrounded me- in the play-ground, 011 the tirct day, as soon as the morning was over. " Scotland is a far better country than Enchant. in every respect.' • "I.it ?" said 1. " Then T llll night to be very thankful for .... having been born in England." 'flint's just what I rem. ye tam; and every morning, when I say my pniyer., I thank God for not being an Eng • The SI "trh are a much better and braver people than the English." " It may he a.," said I, " for what I knnw- indeed, till MAW h. re, I never heard a word either about the Scotch or their country." " Are re making fun of a.. ye English puppy mist the hicar-evi•sl lad ; " take that r . and 1 - was presently beaten black and blue. And thus did I fent become aware of the ditTennt races art their antipathy to each other. " Bow to the storm, cud it shall pa.. over you." I held my pans, and silently oilmiiited to the superiority of the numbcra. 'ihi, as, enough; from au object of per.evation I soon berame one of patronage, espe . !lalle amonzst the champions the class. " the English. said the blear-, veil Lid. though a wee bit behind the Scotch in atrength and fortitude, are oar to be sneezed at, being far alit ail or the Irish, to say nothing of the French, a t uck of cowardly scoundrel.. And with regard to the English country. it is nu Scotland. it is true. but it has its guile rzsergs rt ; ., r a l. n tuhough raw tit Z t iv e r t i: It is ow nic att r h d . ir r i . s rt a , ' the t En t el mil. for I have an auntie married there." While at this school I.avengro saw more fighting in one month than he had ever previously witnessed in England. But. utter all, little harm was alone. What harm could conic of a few short chopping blows, a hug, and a tumble? A sounding whack. a little blood drawn, anal a "bluer," but nothing like tlw mischief ealtieli the mild pacific English boys make when, shooting the ann horizontal'y out trim, the shoultkr, they phalli the fist in the jugular. The High School education must have somewhat changed the pensive boy before the performance of the teat (aluminum:did in the subjoined passage : LAYENURO lattlIMEA AN AVLD TOONSIL Ono day t was standing on the ramparts of the nestle, on the worth-western side, which overhangs the groin brae, wh. re it dopes down into what was in those (lays the peen swan; or nioras., cared be the natives of Auld Iterkie the Nor Loch; it was a dark ;Timmy day and a thin veil of mist was to settle down • upon the brae and the morass. I could peteeiye, however, that there was a skirmish taking place in the latter spot. I had .111 indistinct lie. of two parties -apparently of urchins-and I heant whoop. and shrill cries. Eager to know the cause of this disturb one:. I lett the rank, and, descending the brae, reached the borders of the morass, where was a runnel of water and the remain , of an old wall, cot the other side of which a narrow path 11•11 411.1004 the swamp. Upon this path• at a little tau" . me, there wa. a "bicker." I pushed forward, but, had scarcely the ruined wall and runnel, when the party nearest to m ..ave way, and in great confusion came running in my dinstion. As they drew nigh, one of them shouted to me, %V ha are ye, man ? are ye u' the auld • toot, )" I made nu answer. '• Ha! ye are o' the new tom ; tak yr. we'll moorder ye ;" and the next mo ment a huge stmt. sung pmt my had. " Let me be, ye (ale hisai,.." -aid I, " I'm no of ei th er of ye, I aye youder abeam in the c Ah! ye live in the castle; then ye're an come gir us your help man, and lima stand there staring like a dunnot, we want help sair eneugh. Ben• an. stains." For my own part I wished for nothing better, and, rushing itiward,l placed myself at the head of my new r to viitit ear *pints *it to hint hod, and .nald nth t will 110 Ot Thar. b) ory t is been Y. t.,k:not an )lat ;r*. good. ar• ;onlpftNi yn , t t..ke I I* w dl RM.*. hilt and d counol in, to the oath, but 1 to kloite I, and mid n null tl rnent the lii be es- a ma ISA. Aligns four nt on th• t. atirlild two other tn. r. II heAlro nnt I Hill (the h.d. 'the ug MI the nod he I..th went 1 knurl nd my own ~t a got up to 'ari.tmas tikAt hr was ,r-bon.. woo lb. wants tl.ot !tonna • Itarars .1 him raw 1151iiii;c1 in C. a demi ow other in.brutly u.d in put mi. • 111.an.7 1.4 nls.l tin. t• V. Tr v. ry alUrfr hum 4lu e Mt it laid 11•441 ry r.aup•..ite I:i‘, hie n. I m). If ..... I“ fore 1.16 i r 4 that ynt out of what lye 14$1 )oft 'AI I .emu I. mak... me To.. it Man pi Iry ..n the •,....enti... d. b ne, . tlo r hare, o • by whirl* tl s ) uII •io• hr ono 4 11. irtmog 1.1...1 of any ',on who 1111.!I 11,111.14.17 I.mrl upotl •Oar Ih. Jul *ha , . n .1.%111i•nr0 31,11. /0.4 If OM • ..ttr.try, • 1.. n• .. :111 V I Irr unr r • ell. nm • duly if • s Into all in - non 1 tin la . •iminny. • ~ d. logiurpro • 1, ..th.•ut h„, ••• 000 0 ha . I ••h-, Trim 114 At tV Vl,th the • • ..,thr•at pro -1,, ap proh.,bly • ti.. h..k. CAW, . • 11,. bg, ru rn r. tumid 1,,,t At Ow %ITO re, ..11 ucwaut might - .4 tilt washes -Y f.STZIP AT. J 1 wee Paiute. 1144 Eau. . fore alr. J us o ballet , burned r of the York- I in that pa p tinted by Mr. TivetHme luting roma:ate& The to the York ire irk in quention ourr.'• and%tatcd, if then. canned and defalcation, the plesitiff and to be i% a. connected corrupt so narrowly con t the whole hitione contained h of the libel rapla above set eels justifies:ice either lied that Hudson had ad sold it to one higher rate that. together with one the pries of lands erville and others irs, and had kept Iled to pay it over ie of the Brandon on Railway Coes tideni had appea l%) to 141114 If, the it twine chairman to that C0L1114117 hia remitiro. The jurl and defalcation h the plaintiff and d the face of the n this finding the •red 6,r hie gee he defendant, cede issue dirided,and to fire part of the pks ,somuchascharged Attu nos and N. nu , a ere of • purely itte4 that the sole he other trifle, bat wee no dowlot about clird out two pete xed them rt eould not= met tetchy mans of D the v epos It jury feared to he the cheevter of the ertiflar A la t i ati tia * plaintiff implicated is it. THE EXPRESS, SATURDAY EVENING, FEBRUARY F, 1851. emaciates, and commenced flinging stone, fast and deep& the snot sudden tide" In tie world. He was moving along, , then,' says the Poknees, 'itis no language at all, mere • lately. The other party now Rave way in their turn, closely making the best of has way, thinking of nothing at all save made-up gibberish.' ' Oh, bless y ou r wi s dom,' say s I, with Mowed by ourselves; and I was in the van, and about to a public-house at Swanton Morley, which he intends to take a curtaey, ' . you can tell us what our language is, with ou t stretch out my hand to seize the hindermost boy of the when he gets home, and the re g iment is disbanded — thou g h understanding it.' Another time we meet a parson. ' Good enemy, when, not being acquainted with the miry and diM- I hope that will not be for some time yet. lie had just woman,' soya c, ' what's that you arc talking ? Is itbroken ' eult paths of the Nor Lech, and in my eagerness taking no heed leaped a turf-hole, and was moving on, when, at the distance language i" Of i co ve u a rse .hi , ni vo ng ur , y r o e u v r ere re n , c , e re a' n, pa e y , o to l, th ' e we po l o r i e r et my footing, I plunged into a quagmire, into which I of about Rix yards before him, he saw a fellow coming broken people; g sank as far as my shoulders. Our adversaries no sooner straight towards him. Bagg says that he stopped short, as broken woman.' Oh, these georgics! they grudge us our perceived this disaster, than, setting up a shout ; they suddenly as if he had heard the word halt, when marching : very laneuage !" wheeled round and attacked us most vehemently. Had nay at double quick time. It was quite a suprise, he sap, and 1 ' She called you her son, Jasper ?" comrades now deserted me, my life had not been worth ahe can't imagine how the fellow was so close upon him be• "I am her son, brother." straw's purchase, I should either have been smothered in fore he was aware. He was an immense tall fellow—Bagg " I thought you said your parents were . . ." the gum, or, what is more probable, had my brains beaten thinks at least two inches taller than himself—very well I " Bitchade y pawdel ; yuu thought right, brother. This is j out w:th stones ; but they behaved like true Scots, and dressed in a blue coat and buff breeches, fur all the world like my wife's mother." fought stoutly around their comrade, until I was extra. esquire when going out bunting. Bator, however, saw at , Then you are married, Jasper 7" rated, whereupon both parties retired, the night being near , once that he had a roguish air, and he was on his guard in a " Ay, truly ;I am husband and father. You will see at hand. !moment. ' Good evening to you, tedgera says the fel- , wife and chabo anon." "Ye are na a had hand at flinging smiles," said the lad j low, stepping close up to Bagg, and staring him in the face. ; " Where are they now 7" whgaint addressed me, as we now returned up the brae; 1' Good evening, to you, sir, I hope you are well,' says V "In the gala penning dukkerin." " vNur aim is right danitemus, moo ; I saw how ye *kelpie, Bagg. ' You are looking after some one ?" sacs the fellow, I "We were talking of language, Jasper ?" 1 thins, ye mann help us agin thee New Toon blackguards at' ' Just no, sir,' says llama and forthwith seised him by the " True, brother.' our next bicker." I collar ; the man laughed ; Bagg says it was such a strange "Yours must be a rum one ?" Having . remained two years in North Britain, i o a f w , kwg g rel , laugh . . 'Do you know whom you . have got hold "'Tie called Rommany." ma a? said he. ' I believe I do, sir, said Bagg, ' and " I would gladly know it." Lavengro s family removed to Ireland. Here, at iin that belief will hold you fast in the name of King "You need it sorely." Tipperary, the boy horrified his father by hinting 1 George and the quarter sessions;' the next moment he was g , Would you teach it me 7" one day that he should like to learn Irish. a tongue ! sprawling with his heels in the air. Bagg says there was " None sootier." which, in the worthy captain's memory, was insepo- nothing remarkable in that ;he was only flung by a kind " suppose we begin now 7" of wrestling trick,. which he ceud easily have hattled : had " nyippo.sc we do, brother." red, - associated with a battle in Seven-dials, whither 1 ihe twen aware of it. ' You Will i nut do that again sir, said " Not whilst lam here," said the woman, flinging her he once went to seize two deserters. In Tipperary he, as he got up and put himself on his guard. The fellow knitting down, and starting upon her feet; " not whilst 1 Lavengro went to school to read the Latin tongue laughed strain more strangely and awkwardly than before; am here shall this gorge, learn ltommany. A pretty ma and the Greek letters, studies which, however, re- then, bending his body and moving his head from one side nortivre, truly ; and what would be the end of it ? 1 guts ceived less attention at this time than the adventures to the other, as a cat does before she springs, and crying out, to the fooling ker with my sister, to tell a fortune, and earn ' Here's for ye, codger 7' he made a dart at Bagg, rushing in a few sixpences for the chalice. I secs a jolly pig in the yard, of Ilickathrift and Wight Wallace. here he . . with his head foremust. ' That will do, sir,' says Bags , gnat and I says to my sister, speaking Rommany , •Do su and made the acquaintance of the indigenes, o ne o 1 drawing himself hack, he put in a left-handed blow with all so,' oars . 1 ; which, the farming man hearing, asks what we whom, a " moon," us the farmer's bons were calle d , the force of his hotly and arm, just over the fellow'', right are talking about. 'Nothing at all, master,' says I; ' some . he thus sketches: e y e—Ba gg is a left-handed hitter, you must know — an d it thing about the weather;' when who Mould start up from TILT INCIPIENT NUTS?. was a blow of that kind which won him his famous battle behind a pale, where he has been listening, but this ugly Ile was about sixteen years old, and above six feet high, at Edinburgh with the high Highland sergeant. Dago says gorgio, crying out, 'They are atter poisoning your pigs, dressed in a grey suit; the coat, from its size, appeared to he was quite satisfied with the blow, more especially when neighbour!' so that we are glad to run, I and my sister, have been made for him some ten years before. He was he saw the fellow reel, fling nut his arms , and fall t o the with p erha p s the fart -engru shouting ter us. Says my remarkably narrow-eho eted and mood-ahouldered, owing, ground. ' And now, sir,' said he, ' I'll make bold to hand sister to me, when we have gut fairly its; ' How came that perhaps, as much to the tightness of his garment as to the you ever to the quarter sessions, and, if there is a hundred ugly one to know what you said to me ?' Whereupon I an hand of nature. Ills face was long, and his eamplexion pounds for taking you, who has more right to it than rev- suers, 'lt all comes of my son Jasper, who brings the gorgio swarthy ; relieved, however, by certain freckles, with which self ?' So he went forward, but ere he could lay hold of his to our tire, and must needs be teaching him.' ' Who was the skin was plentifully studded. He had strange, wander- man the other was again on his legs, and was prepared to fool there i' says my sister. ' Who, indeed, but my son lug eye., grey, and somewhat unequal in size ; they seldom renew the combat. They grappled each other—Bagg says Jasper; I answers. And here should I be a greater fool rested on the honk, hut were generally wanolcring about the he had not much fear of the result, es he now felt himself to sit still and sutler it; which I will not do. Ido not like room, from one °Meet to another. Simetimes he would fix the bast mon, the other seeming half - stunned wit h the blow ; the look of hint ; he looks over- g or g eous. An ill day to the them intently on the wall, and then suddenly starting, as if but just then there came on a blast, a horrible marina wind, ltoulaus, when he masters nonuuany ; and, when I says that, from a revenge he would commence making certain myste- hearing night upon its win, snow, and sleet, and hail. I pens a true dukkerin." rime , moovements with his thumbs and forefingers , as if Ise Same says he had the fellow by the throat quite faat, as he 1 . What do better call God, Jasper ?" were shuffling something from them. thought , but suddenly became bewildered, end knew nut "You bud better be jawing," mid the woman, raising her Imr morning, as he sat by himself on a bench, eneneed where was; and the man seemed to melt away from his voice to a terrible xeream ; " you had better be musing ode in this manner, I went up to him, and said, " Good day, gram, and the wind howled more and more, and the night my gorgio; hang jyou fur a keen one, tatting there by the Murtagh ; you 11'1 not seem to have much to do?" poured down darker and darker ; the snow and the sleet tire, and stealing my language before my face. Do you know " Faith, you may say that, Shorsha dear !—it is seldom thither and more blinding. ' Lord have mercy upon us 7' whom you bare to deal with ? Do you know that lam dan mneh to ilia that I hare." said Bairg." genius i My name is Herne, and I comes of thehairy ones! "And what are you doing with your hand!, ?" Myself. A strange adventure that; it is well that Bagg And a hairy oue she looked! She wore her hair clubbed "Faith, then, if I must tell you, I was e'en dealing with got aome alive. upon her head, thatened with many strings and ligatures; I the cards." John. He says that the fight was a fair fight, and that the but now, tearing cheer off. her locks, oorigivally jet black, but "Do yon play much at cards ?" fling he got was a fair fling, the result of a common enough now partially gnarled with age, fell down on es ery bide " Sorra a game, Shomha, have I played with the earls wrestling trick. But with respect to the storm, which nose of her, col - erne her fare and back as far down as her knees. since rij uncle Phelim. the thief, stole away the mild pack, up just in time to Nave the fellow, he is of opinion that it No she-bear of Leyland evir lacked more tierce and hairy when he went to -MBe in the county Waterford !" was not fair, hut something Irish and supernatural. than did that MOMMI, us, standing in the open part of the " But you have ether things to do?" ifyseff. I dare say he's right. I have read of witchcraft tent, with her head bent down, and her shoulders drawu " SOrM anything else has Muurtagh to do that hr carte in the Bible. up, meltingly about to precipitate herself upon me, she re alwrat ; and that makes me dread so going home at nights." John. lie wishes much to hove one more encounter with mated, again and main,— " I should like to know all about you ; where do you live, the fellow ; he says that on fair ground, and in fine wen" My name is Herne, and I comes of the hairy ones !" joy?" thee, he has no doubt that he could master him, and hand " I call God Duvet, brother." " Faith, then, ye shall know all about me, and where I hint over to the quarter sessions. He says that a hundred "It sounds very like Devil." live. It is eta pima called the Wilderness that I lice, and pounds would be no bad thing to be disbanded upon; for "It doth, brother, it dooth." they call it so because it is a fearful wild place, without any he wisher to take an inn at Swantun Morley, keep a cock- "And what do you call divine—l mean godly ?" Mere no or it but my father's own ; and that's where I live pit, and live respectably. "Oh! I call that duvelskoe." when at home." efeseet Hr is quite right; end now kiss me, my darling "I am thinking of something, Jasper." " And your father is a farmer, I suppose ?" brother, for I must go back through the bog to Toupleinure. " What are you thinking of, brother 7" " You may say that; and it is a farmer I should have At the Templemore barracks Lavengro became ac. " Would it not be a rum thing if divine and devilish were been, like. my lumber Denis, had not my uncle Phelan, the originally one and the seine word?" quainted with n specimen of the Irish cob, a stranor thief; multi lay father to scud me to school, to learn Greek 'a ' ltwoula, brother, it would . . " letters, that I might be mode a saggart of, and sent to Faris kind of animal , choleric but kind, able to distinguish • • • ; a end Salamanca. " ‘. on officer's sem from a blackguard dragoon," only From this time I had frequent interviews with Jasper, " And you amid rather be a farmer than a priest 7" fifteen hands high, and vet with the girth of a dray- sometimes in hie tent, sometimes on the heath, about which " You may nay that!—for were I a farmer, like the rest, horse, a small head, br 7 oad chest, and immense and we would roam for hours, discoursing on various mutter,. I should have something to do, like the cwt—something • .• neaunfidly-earred neck ; in a word, a model of one of his horses of which he had Sometiuies mounted on . , . I that I cared flor—and I should come home tired at night, several, I would accompany him to various fairs and markets and fall asleep, ago the rest do, before the fire ; but when 1 symmetry and strength . This creature awoke in l in the. neighbourhood, to which he went on his own alleles, I t om, home at night lam net tired, for I have been doing Lavengro a passion, which in his own words is thus or thew of his tribe. I soon found that I had become ae nothing all day that I care for ; and then I sits down and described : I quainted with a most singular people, whose habits and pur sues, about me, and at the fire, till 1 become frightened ; suits awakened within our the highest interest. Of all eon and the n I shouts to my brother Denia, or to the gosoonna, elected with them, however, the language was doubtless that ' Get up, I say, and lees he doing something ; tell us the which exereised the greenest influenceovermy imagination. I' tale of Finn-ma-Coy], and how he lay down in the Shan- had at flrat some suspicion that it would prove a mere made-up ' non's led, and let the river How down hi+ jaws !' Arrah, gibberish ; but 1 wax soon undeceived. Broken, corrupted, Shomha! I wish you would come and stay with us, and and half in ruins as it was, it was not long before I found tell us some 0' your sweet stories of your gownself and the that it warm original speech, far more so, indeed, thee one or snake ye carried about wid ye. Faitli, Shonha, dear ! that two others of high name and celebrity, which up to that time I snake bate. anything about Finn-ma-Caul or Brian Boroo, bad lwe nin tilt. lethit of regarding a ith respect and veneration. the thieves tan, lad lurk to them 7" Indeed many obscure points tom, eted with the vocabu- ' ..And do they get up rind tell you stories?" lar y of these hinguages, and to which neither classic or mo " Sometimes they olosa, but oofteurnest they nurses me, and dem bore afforded any clue, I thought 1 could now clear up ' bids me be quiet! But I can't he quiet, either before the by means of this strange broken tongue, spoken by pimple are or ahed ; so I runs out of the house, and stares at the who dwelt amongst thickets and furze bushes, in tents as rocks, at the trees, and sometimes at the clouds as they run tawny as their ewes, and whom the generality of mankind a race across the bright moon ; and the more I stares, the designated, and with much semblance of justice, as thieves I more (righted I grows, till 1 screeches and hollows. And' and vagabonds. But where did thin speech come from, last Mahe I went into the barn, and hid my face in the and who were they who spoke it? These were questione straw ; and there, as I lay and shivered in the straw, I which I could nut solve, and which Jasper himsele when heard a voice above my head singing out, 'To whit, to pressed, confeseed his inability to answer. " But, whoever whom!' and then up I starts, and runs into the house, and I we be, brother," said he, " we are an old people, and not falls over my brother Dvni+, as he lies at the fire. ' What's what folks in general imagine, broken gorgioa ; and, if we that for,' says he. ' Gee up, you thief " says I, ' and be arc not Egyptians, we are at any rate ltommany Chats !" helping me. I have been out into the barn, and an owlhaa " nominally CIla! I should not wonder after all," said erma'il at me r " I, " that these people had something to do with the found " And what has this to do with playing cards ?" l u g of Rome. Rome, it is said, was built by vagabonds ; " little enough, Shoorsha, dear!—lf there were card-play- who knows but that some tribe of the kind settled down lug, I should not be (righted." thereabouts, and called the town which they built after their " And why do you not play cards?" name ; hut whence did they come originally ? eh! there is " Did I not till you that the thief, my uncle Phelim, stole , the ditticulty. away the park? If we had the park, my brother Deeds But, übanduning these questions, which at that time were and the iramons would be re my enough to get up from their I tattoo profound for me ' I wentunstudyingthelunguage,and sleep before the fire, and play earls with me fur ha' pence ,' at the same time the churaeters and manners of thew strange or ,eggs, or 'nothing at all ; but the pack is gone bad Melt people. My rapid progress in the former astonished, allay to the thief who Mak it!" it delighted, impel. " We'll no longer call you Sapengro, "And why don't you buy another ?" brother, " mid he, "but rather Lavengro, which, in the lan "lsit of buying you are speaking ? And where am I Ile gauge o f the gurgles, meaneth word-master." " Nay, lim pet the money ." then," mid Tawno Chikno, with whom I had become very " Ah 1 that's another thing 7" intimate, " you had better call him Cooro-mengro; I have " Faith it is, honey !—Anol now the Christmas holidays , put on the glory with him, and timid him a pure fist-master; is coming, when I shall he at home by do y as well as night, 1 I like him fur that, for I am a Cooro-mengro myself, and end then what ant Ito do,? Since I have been a saggarting, ' was born at lirummagcn." I have been good for nothing at all—neither fur work nor " Hikes him for his modesty," said Mrs. Chikno; "I (heck-aunty to play cards! Faith, it's going mad I will never hears any ill words come from his mouth, but, on the be !" contrary, much tweet language. Ills talk is gulden, and he has " I stay, Murtagh !" taught my eldest to say his prayers in Itomunany, which my "Yes Shorsha, dear !" rover hadnever the grace tuelo. ' Ile is the pal of toy rum," "I have a pack of cards." said Mrs. l'etul-engro, who was a very handeome woman, 1 " You don't say so, Shorsha ma voumeen 7—you don't " uud therefore 1 like.* lian, and not the len for his being a I say that you have ear ls fifty-two ?" rye ; folks call me high-minded, and perhaps 1 have reason " I do, though; and they are quite new—never been to be so; before I married l'haroah I had an offer from a am used." lord—l likes the young rye, anal( he chooses to follow us, he " And you'll be lending them to me, I warrant 7" shall have my sister. Whet soy you, mother ? should not "Don't think it "—But I'll sell them to you, joy, if you the young ree have my sister Lrsulu ?" " I am going to my people," said Mrs. theme, placing a bundle upon a donkey, which was her own peculiar pro perty ; "I am going to Yorkshire, for I can stand this no longer. You say you like him; in that we differs ; I hates the gorgio, and would like, speaking Romanly, to mix a little poison with his waters. And now go to Luudm, my children, I goes to Yorkshire. Take my blessing with ye, and a little bit of a gillie to cheer your hearts with when ye are weary. In all kinds of weather have we lived toge ther ; but now we arc parted. I goes broken-hearted—l can't keep you company; ye are no longer Rommany. To gain a bad brother ye have lost a good mother." The gypsies departed, Lavengro returned home to ponder Irish and visit a refugee priest, from whom he picked lip French and Italian. But he was now sixteen, and must think of a profession. The church WOO talked of; but the irregular manner in which he had picked up Irish convinced his parent that he would never learn Greek in the college method; be sides, he had forsaken the instructions of a sound protestant divine l'or the comixtny of the papist ga soon, and was neglecting even the sonorous terzets of the Divine Comedy, in order to become acquainted with the broken speech and yet more broken songs of houseleas wanderers whom he had met at a hone fair. No, Lavengro would not make a churchman. So he was put to the law, and for eight hours a day was seated behind a lofty deal desk, transcr i bing documents in a solicitor's office. In Blackstone he made as little progress as he could help, but behind the said desk, when backs were turned, he mastered the stanzas of Ab Gwylim, a certain wild Welchman, who, some four hundred years before, incited cowydds to the daughters of Cambria, generally terminating with the modest request of a few words beneath the green-wood bough. But even Ab Gwylim came to be yawned over in time, and Lavengro began to seek excitement in reading the lives of lawless men, Murray and Latroon, boob of singular power, but of coarse and prurient imagina -1 lion. Lauguage again came to his help; accident brought him a I)antsh book of ballads and songs about the deeds of ancient champions and giants. Without grammar or diet ionary he managed to learn to read this book, by obtaining a Danish Bible and com paring its w ords with the language of our version. Within six months afterwards he had picked up a philosopher from Gernuniy, who had taught him not only the elements of the Teutonic tongue, but also to ask himself very many queer questions, such as " whether he was ever born ? Is not all a lie, a de ceitful phantom? Is there a real earth and sky ?" To start these doubts, however, was all that the new acquaintance could accomplish. Lavengro was as far from the solution as Buddh, who lived hundreds of rears before Solomon who declared "There is nothing new under the sun." Here our task ends. If the reader's curiosity has not been excited, if he would not like to know how Lavengro turned gypsy, mended kettles, and shoes his own horse, meets Belle in the dingle, and is taught by her to fight—we have at once mistaken the value of this, to us, at once the strangest and likeliest book of the season. A HORSEMAN'S ENTitt:SIA@M. Off went the col) at a slow and gentle trot, too fast and rough, however, for so inexperienced a rider. I soon felt myself sliding off; the animal perceived it too, and instantly stood stone still till I had righted myself; and now the groom came up—' When you feel yourself going," said he. „ don't lay hold of the mane, that's uo use; inane never yet, saved man front falling, no more than straw from drown ing; it's his sides you must cling to with your calves and feet, till you learn to balance yourself. rhat's it, now abroad with you; I'll bet my comnide a pot of beer that you'll be a regular rough rider by the time you comeback." And so it proved; 1 followed the direction of the groom, and the cob gave me e'er) , assistance. HOW easy is riding, after the first timidity is got over, to supple and youthful limbs; and there is no second fear. The creature soon found that the nerves of his rider were in proper tone. 'Turning his head half round, he made a kind of whining noise, flung out a little foam, and set oaf. In less than two hours I had made the circuit of the !, Devil's Mountain, and was returning along the road, I bathed with perspiration, but screluning with delight; the cob laughing in his equine way, scattering foam and pebbles to the left and right, and trotting at the rate of sixteen miles an hour. Oh, that ride! that first ride!—most truly it was an epoch in my existence; and I still look back to it with feel ings of lunging and regret. People may talk of first love — it is a very agreeable event, I dare say—but give me the , flush and triumph and glorious sweat of a first rid,, like ; mine on the mighty cob! My whole frame was shaken, it i is true ; and during one long week I could hardly move foot or hand; but what of that ? By that one trial I had be come free, as I may nay, of the whole equine species. No more fatigue, no more ibiliness of joints, after that first ride round the Devil's-hill on the cub. Oh, that cub! that Irish crab!—may the soil lie lightly over the bones of the strongest, speediest, and most gallant of Be kind! Oh! the days who n, issuing front the barniek gate of Templemore, we:comineueed our hurry scurry, just as inclination led—now across the fields—direct over stone walls and running brooks—mere pastime fur the cob!— sometimes along the road to Thurles and Holy Cross, even to distant Cahir !—what was distanet. to the cob? It was thus that the paasion for the equine race was first awakened within me—a passion which, Alp ill the present time, has been rather on the increase than diminishing. It is no blind passion; the horse being a noble and generous crea ture, intended by the All-Wise to be the helper and friend of man, to whom he stands next in the order of creation. On many oceaaiinui of my life I have been much indebted to the hone, and have found in him a friend and coadjutor, when human help and sympathy were not to be obtained, It is therefore natural enough that I should love the horse , hut the love which I entertain for him has always been blended with respect; fur I soon perceived that, though disposed to be the friend and helper of man, he is by no means inclined to be his slave ; in which respect he differs from the dog, who will crouch when beaten ; whereas the horse spurns, for he is aware of his own worth, and that he carries death within the horn of his heel. If, therefore, I found it easy to love the horse, I found it equally natural to respect hint. • • • • • " R a ttans mon Dinul! em I not after telling you that I ire no mosey at all ?" Bat you have as good as money, to me, at least ; and II take it in exchange.' • " What's that, Shorsha, dear ?" "Irish'" Irish ?" o y e s, you speak Irish; I heard von talking it the other day to the cripple. You shall teach me Irish." And is it a language-master you'd be making of me ?" "To be sure '.—w hat better can you do?—it would help you to pars your time at school. You can't learn Greek, so you must teach Irish:" Before Christmas, Murtagh was playing at cards with his brother Denis, and I could speak a considerable quantity of broken Irish. At Templemore, where the regiment was next quartered, there was no school nor Nlurtagh, and the Dc Foe was learnt by heart. The country was wild. and thinly inhabited. The huge bog of Allan lay close by, ruined castles loomed through the country mists, and, at the distance of half a dozen milt., was seen the Devil's Mountain, with the deism whence a piece had been bitten out of its brow by his Satanic majesty himself. Ilia time was here • beguiled by visits to the cabins of the peasantry, who took his Irish talk as a great compliment. Paying a visit to his brother, an ensign of sixteen, quartered with his detachment in a wretched wooden barrack, in a desolate snow-covered moor, he hears the story of Jerry Grunt. AND WHO IA JERRY GRANT? Did you never hear of him ? that's strange ; the whole countryy• u talking about him ; he is a kind of outlaw, rebel, 1.. r robber; all three. I dare say ; there's a hundred pounds offered for hi. head ?" " And where does he live?" " Ills proper home, they my, is in the Queen's County, where he has a band ; but he is a strange fellow, fond of wandering about by himself amidst the hogs and mountains, and living in the old castles; occasionally he quarters him self in the peasants' houses, who let him do just as he pleases he is free of his money, and often does them good turns, and can be good-humoured enough, so they don't dislike hint. Then, he is what they call a fairy man, a per son in league with fairies and spirits, and able to work much harm by supernatural means, on which account they hold him In great awe ; he is, moreover, a mighty strong and tall know. nogg has seen him." „ Has he? " "Yes! and felt him; he, too, is a strange one. A few days ago he was told that Grant had been seen hovering about an old castle some two miles off in the bog ; au one afternoon what does he do hut, without saying a word to me— for which, by the by, ought to put him under arrest, though what I should du with Bugg I have no idea what ever—what does he do but walk off to the castle, intending, as I suppose, to pay a visit to Jerry. Ile had some difficulty in getting there, on account of die turf-holes in the bug, I w hi c h he was not accustomed to ; however, thither at last be got and went in. It was a strange lonesome place, be says, and he did not much like the look of it ; however, in be want, mid searched about from the bottom to the top, and Assn again. but could hind no one ; he shouted and balloord, but nobody answered, save the rooks and ehoughs. which started up in great numbers. ' I have lost my trouble,' said nagg, and left the castle. It was now late 'in the afternoon, near sunset, when about half-way over the bog he met • man . . ." And that man was . . ." " Jerry Grant ! there's no doubt of it. Beggs says it was have That ride, amongst other things, taught me that a lad with thews and sinews was intended by nature for WM , - thing better than mere word-culling; and if I have accom plished anything in after life worth mentioning, I believe it may partly be attributed to the ideas which that ride, by setting my blood in a glow, infused into my brain. The militia regiment disbanded, Lavengra returned to East Anglia with his father. His passion fur the equine race led him to a horse fair, one of those lively scenes which only provincial market-towns can supply. There was shouting and whooping, neighing and braving; there was galloping and trot ting; fellows with high-lows and white stockings. and with many a string hanging from the knees of their tight breeches, were running desperately, hold ing horses by the halter, or dragging them along; there were long-tailed steeds and dock-tailed steeds, of every degree and breed; there were droves of wild ponies, and long rows of sober cart-horses; there were donkeys, and even mules, the rarest animals in damp and misty England. Amidst this throng Lavengro was dCseried by Jasper, the gypsy, whom he had years before met, when the viper lay hidden in his bosom. They made off together for the farthest tent of an encampment outside the town, where the gypsy relates what has passed since the former en counter. Ilis father and mother have been tram— . ported. Ile, Jasper Petulengro, theirson, is a gypsy hag, a Romanny Kral. THE RUMANNY LANGUAGE. " And nu have a language of your own ?" °Avails: "Thus is wonderful." " Ha, ha!" cried the woman, who had hitherto sat knit ting, at the further end of the tent, without saying a word, though not inattentive to our conversation, as I could per eche, by certain glances which she occasionally cast upon us both. " Ha, ha !" she screamed, fixing upon me two eyes, which shown like burning coals, and which were filled with an expression both of scorn and malignity . "It is wonderful, is it. that we should have 'a language of our own ? What, you grudge the poor people the speech they talk among theme's ? That's just like you gorgios, you would have everybody stupid, single-tongued idiots, like yourselves. K e are taken before the Poknees of the gas, myself and sister, to give an account of ourselves. So I says to my sister's little boy, speaking Rommany, I says to the little boy who is with us, run to my son Jasper and the rest, and tell them to be off, there are hawks abroad. So the Poknees questions us, and lets us go, not being able to make any thing of u ; but, as we are going, he calls us back. ' Good woman,' says the Poknees, ' what was that I heard you say just now to the little boy i" I was telling him, your worship, to go and see the tame of day, and, to save trouble, I said it in our language.' When., did you get that lan guage says the Poknees. 'Tis our own language, sir,' I tells bins, •we did not steal it Shall I tell you what it is, my good woman ?' says the Pokneas, I would thank you, I sir, says I, ' for often we are asked about it.' Well, The Daughter of Night; a story of the /'resent Time. I little more, and that Rozenerants and Guildern- By S. it'. Fthhost. 3 vols. Cullan. i stern were in reality heroes, only unfortu- The "laughter of flight" is a young girl, em- nately the circumstances of the drama did not allow ploved in a coal mine—buried, dtiy after day, and them to develop themselves. This practice has been month and month," a hundred fathomsdeep, through carried out even to the " third robbers." But the last rock and stone and mineral, down in the bowels of effort of ingenuity is the girlhood of Shakspearc's he the earth, and for more than a mile from the yawning mines, the design of which is "to trace the probable shaft." In the midst of foul air and fouler converse- 'antecedents in the history of sonic of Shaksp e a re ' s tion-.of all that can contaminate the physical and ' women; to imagine the possible circumstances and moral being—she has beauty and innocence, fatal influences of scene, event, and associates sur gifts, which expose her to the brutal importunities ' rounding the infant life of his heroines, which of the overseer placed over her. Left alone one might have conduced to originate and foe evening; in th% pit with the young girl, his ruffian ter those germs of character recognised in their nature threatens to obtain the mastery, when he is maturity as by hint developed." The result, arrested by the appearance of the safety-lamp, which as far as it has gone, is every readable and gracefully is edged with blue, presenting the appearance miners written series of tales, and well worthy the aecom call "a fire," and which he well knew "indicated the plished authoress of the " Concordance to Shakspeare;' presence of explosive gases. " 4 horrible idea now a really great work. These little books contain, suggests itself. Ile hesitates an instant—shall he indeed, so much that is original, that there save her? Then he pushes past, muttering, "No ! seems no earthly reason why they should not have let her foind it out." been original altogether. What we complain of is Seeking his own safety, he leaves her to perish. simply this new fashion of endless illustration, which Gradually she became sensible of an oppressive closeness threatens to produce us such works as " An Inquiry in the air, rendering it difficult to respire. A strange, But- into the Mean Temperature of the Winter of Richard 'Alarm's smell began to rise, penetrating to her chest, and the Thinfs Discontent," " Specimens of the Literature exciting u feeling of nausea, intense sad overpouering. What could it he ? Melt Shakespeare said could he found in the Bunning . Her instinctive apprehension that some catastrophe was at hand grew stronger—became, in fact, irrepressible. Breathless racked with suspense, she listenedfur the word to leave the pit; but iu vain, though assured, front the de parture anti the haters, that it must he past the regular time. What was to lie done? To remain longer was im possible ; and she determined, at risk of dismissal, to make the best of her way to the shaft. Opening the trap, she entered the next rootage, which, being betweentwu exhausted boards, was so low and narrow that she was obliged to move along on her knees. It was also much darker—that is, though accustomed to see objects in the dark, and now stooping down, she could not distin guish the rails of the tramway. Added to this, the poisonous odour became more virulent, the heat unit dense air more oppressive ; and she was yet nearly a quarter of a mile from the gate-road, or main thoroughfare ' itself a mile in length. As she moved along, a lassitude seized her limbs; an unna tural drowsiness ' which she could not shake off, weighed down and closed her eyes; and she began to feel a strange, reckless indiffiouce to anything that might happen. By a mat effort she aroused herself, recovering that precious instinct which urges the nowt deals-rate to prize and cling to life, even when it would smut to possess no value. Tien, mustering all her energy, she pushed for ward, 'taming the several deserted workings, and through as many doors, very imprudently forsaken by their attend ant trappers, while some were lett open, as if abandoned in haste. . . . . Brooks," or "A Treatise on the Tides of llumkt's Sea of Troubles." Surely it is time to stop. The Poetical Works of Dr. Goldsmith, with Thirty Illustra- Hose, by JOHN AIIsOLON, DIRKET FONTEIC. JAMES GODWIN, and HARRISON WEIR. Condall told Macy. It would be difficult to discover any new mode of praise for the writings of " poor Goldy." From his friend, the ponderous lexicographer of the last century. to the humblest reviewer of the present day, all luive given their tribute of laudation to the author of the Traveller" and the lh,t.rted Village." Open a volume of sehetions from English poets, and one name and one's poems you will surely find, whoever else may lw absent ; talk about poetry in company, or high or low, and one mun's rhymes are known and admired. whatso ever else may be neglected or unknown. From the reader of the "Iliad to the last pupil of the parish school, through every gradation of English readers, all know and praise one or other of the works cf Goldsmith. Little wonder, then, that publishers produce new editions, large and small, cheap and dear. Each new issue WEIRS to Nell and to repay what may be ventured on it. In the present case, we have a compact book of 1'34 pages, well printed, with thirty illustrations on wood, front the designs of some of the best draughtsmen of the day. The fron tispiece gives a glimpse of English landscape, " Auburn,thelovliest village of the plain." its church, its meadows sloping to a quiet pool, its cottages, and prospects over fruitful fields. A portrait surmounts the life of the poet : and then through sueceeding pages we have a fair variety of subjects chosen for the remaining illustrations. Amongst others we find a group round the cheerful hearth, She new thought that the word, perhaps, had been called nut while she was talking with Black Jean, and so had lw-en unheeded, or possibly, in the hurry of a general alarm, she had been forgotten ; and the fearful reflection occurred that she was curolt from assistance., and, even if she escaped with life, would have to pass the night in the mine. She war now in the lust headway, opening into the prin cipal passage, and from a rushing sound of water, streaming down the Mack walls into a drain, she knew she must be near the first trap. With outstretched hands:she moved on, bruising her knees on splinters of coal, spillage from the day's trains, and often grazing her head against the timber work above, supporting the mountain roof. But now the trap was reached, and, raising the click, she drew it open, when a terrific crash—a loud, roaring, tremendousthunder clap, starting and expanding a myriad echoes, drove through the mine, shooting her headlong into the gate road, stunned and breathless. For a moment she lay perfectly stupified, but than sprang up, fully recollecting her situation. She had been thrown where, against re dead-gap, or line of deserted workings, the scam of coal being exhausted, the props which sustain the roof had been removed, and vast masses of earth, tuck, and waste mineral, prey. d by the enormous over weight, hint fiction in, forming crude and fantastic heaps, with continual interstices, which realised the confusion of clean . She knew that these randorian recesses generate the baneful stythe, or choke-damp, always following close on explosions, and which, rolling forth like a fog, carries death to the remotest nooks ; and she instantly r„.sumed her fiipht. fhe way was so intersected by sleepers, supporting the tramroad, here, in consequence of the greater width, made to run waggon, that it might he thought impossible to pro ceed rapidly; but in king for life obstacles are hale heeded. ith her hands raised overhead, to beat hark the foul air, now lacoming more and more stifling, innocent darted down an inclined plane, nearly dashing against a row of empty waggoner rata the bottom. Still advancing, she looked with straining eyes for the least tram of light, as marking the distant shaft; but all war Idarkness—darkness visible and tangible., such in made Phoroah succumb. At last, a feeble streamy flickering, like a meteor, then a kind of dim light, could be fairly discerned ; but it was not sufficient to reveal any object, or show even the outlines of the passage. But Millicent, seeing the shaft so nigh, nerved herself for a luat etthrt, though, us there were no means of leaving the mine, escape was apparently hopeless. Already, indeed, the deadly stythe was rolling by ; her head swam ; her breath stopped ; a thousand columns of fire Hushed be ' fore her eyes ; and she fell to the ground senseless. Millicent escapes one danger only to fall into others. Beset by her old enemy, " Black Jim," and • the equally dangerous advances of her master's son, she is accused of crime—and rescued only through the exertions of a benevoli•nt surgeon, who coveys her from the scene, and procures for her situation—as a domestic servant. Her beauty, and, above all, her gentle purity—preserved the midst of her ignorance and rough rearing— excite the sympathy of her widowed and wealthy mistress, who finally adopts her. A fashionable boarding-school dues the rest. The poor colliery girl becomes a lady, admired and courted, with the noblest of the land at her feet,—and this in spite of a whis per of her origin getting abroad, and sonic humi liating rencontres with her old associates. She even triumphs over the pride of the nephew of her patroness, whom, however, her conscientious feeling causes her to reject. In the midst of these triumphs her benefactress dies. The will which she has made in favour of her: daughter she has not had time to sign; the heir-at-law steps in, and the young girl is left penniless. Her miseries now begin afresh, and she is rescued, when nearly on the verge of starvation, by a weaver, nearly as poor as herself, whose family enable her to share their wretched mode of subsistence. Sur rounded by squalor and penury, she is discovered by her former lover, who renews his proposals, but takes advantage of her altered fortunes to accompany them with a degrading condition. Prostrated by this crowning sorrow, she is again raised through the delicate and unavowed agency of a rival of the man she has loved. The constancy and faithful de votion of the brilliant and admired Lord Childers has in the meantime won her heart. Her hand, however, she still refuses, her pride not permit ting her to subject him to the odium of a Ines alliance. This difficulty is overcome in the end by the death of the heir-at-law of her benefactress, and her succession to a large fortune. Such arc the main materials of the story as immediately affecting the heroine. Some of the most impressive parts of the book, however, arc those relating to the criminal course of Belwood, the heir, and afterwards the sue-, cessor to the mine, and the evil genius of Millicent throughout. Considered'as a story, the book is dra matic and interesting; as a novel of character it has • considerable merit • and as a delineation of life among the poor and labouring: classes, it has some higher claims to attention. It is certainly . not necessary that every novel should be written with what is in common parlance " a purpose." Literature, so long as it elevates and refines, is surely its own reward, however indirect the gain may be, and unequal, according to the tendencies and tastes of the reader. Nevertheless, it must be admitted that fiction is a powerful weapon in the hands of the reformer and the philanthropist, and its employment is certainly not among the worst signs of the times. And should Mr. Fullom's work contribute, in however slight a degree, to aid the cause of the poor and ignorant, by calling attention to their sufferings and sins—he has surely not written in vain. Where wont :nut pain ripair, Ana every stranger finds a ready c h air ; a very poetical-looking pilgrim, leaning on his alpen-stock; a charming glimiNe of a field of ripen ing corn; a morsel of a more southern landscape, When Apennine ascends, Bright as the summer, ltsly extends: a bittern, excellently drawn, upon the margin of a great sedgy brook ; the boys in a N . Maw school; and a group of cattle in a pool, by H. Foster, which is a a perfiet little Cuyp. All honour and much profit, we say, to the men who thus bring art to giro another charm to good poetry; and profit, too, for they deserve it. Masters and Workmen. A Tale. Illastratire °jibe Social and .tloral Condition of the People. By Lunt 11. Newby. In the preface to this book we find the author's political opinions. Ile attributes the pauperism which afflicts the country to the luxury cultivated by the upper and middle classes, and the fearful dis proportion between the price of the idleness of tho aristocracy and the labour of the por; and he would warn us to return to a more primitive condition of society. Ile is clearly one of the torah party ho would walk backwards. How fur hack it is his pleasure to retreat we cannot determine. Whether he would, if he had his will, discard his tailor, and bring back the days of paint and red ochre, is a ques tion on which we entertain grave doubts. Front his philosophic height, he perceives that the rich are de grading the poor, and that the poor are dragging society down with them ;" in short, he appears to be haunted with the uncomfortable idea that he and his fellow-countrymen are everlastingly standing upon the edge of a precipice. In spite of these peculiar and sombre opinions, the work ham interest. Ilis hero is—a returned convict, who, when the story opens, has just set his foot once more in England, after an absence of fourteen years at the expense of government. This hero, Charles Seaton, has been, of course, wrongfully condemned, and on coming buck finds the real offender in the enjoyment of consideru , ble wealth. We cannot follow him through his three volumes of trouble, closed, as the novelist is in duty bound to close his work, with the triumph of virtue, the punishment of villany, and the marriage of the hero. The adventures of Seaton in search of his rights are varied, naturally introduced, and told, if not with the tact of an artist, at least with tho grace of an amateur. The sympathies of the writer entitle him to respect; but it is necessary to caution the world now-a-dars atptinst those who would draw angels in rags and demons in silks and satins, and say, behold the mirror of the time. Must false is that doctrine which would reduce society to a dead level; and impossible is it to retrograde from civilisation to barbarism without utter ruin. We had marked one or two passages for extract, but the space we have already ceded to Lord 11. prevents us from quoting theta. We cannot add that the author of " Masters and Workmen" is a profound thinker, who promises great things in the future, but we may affirm, in conclusion, that ho might write some amusing sketches if he would be content to resign to abler hands the difficult purpose which he professes to have in view. The Girlhood of Makspeare's Heroines. 1. Portia, the Heiress of Belmont ; 2 . The Thaneallatiohtcr ; 3. Idkna, the Physician's Orphan. By Maui COWDEN CLAIM. W. H. Smith and Son. To count the number of lines in Shakspeare, would be as hopeless a task as counting the lamps at N'au-- , hall, or the schemes for paying off the National Debt. But we may safely assume that, for every line that the poet has written, about an octavo volume has been concocted by his commentators. Ever since the time of Schlegel and Haslitt, we have seen Ingo proved virtuous, Ophelia quite the reverse, and, very likely, Goneril and Regan injured persons. We have seen the lightest and most careless of the poet's passages elevated into oracles, and the very mistakes of the press tortured into beauties. But it was reserved fur the last few years to criticise contingencies. And the present I fashion is to comment , not upon what Shakspeare has written, but upon what he might have written, had he not thought better of it. It has been very clearly shown by one ingenious person that the Nurse in " Romeo and Juliet" might have been . a principal person in the drama if Shah apeare had " written up" the character a PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED. On the Contraction of Locks and Keys. By John Citron, Amoy. Inst. C.E. A reprint of a paper re ad before the Institution of Civil Engineers on the construction of lucks and keys. It con tains much curious information ou the suldeet, and has the value of all such treatises prepared by a man much inte rested in the subject he writes upon. Of course the locks of which Mr. Chubb is the inventor come in for notice; and there seems little doubt but they are entitled to stand as the last and greatest improvement we bare at present obtained in the construction of these guards against robbery. A Fete Words to the Shareholders of the North Stafford shire Railway Contpany. By One of Themselves. W. and T. Piper. A pamphlet, issued with a view of pointing out to North Statford.shire shareholder , the course they should pursue in the eotitmver.y between this company and. the London and North-Western Company, with respect to the Mari& branch. Reflections arising out of the l'opuh Aggression. By A Simple Protestant. J. 11. Kendall. The opinions of an earnest protestant, clearly and elegantly expressed, upon the l'opish question, but more particularly upon tho matters at issue between the lice. W. T. E. Bennett and the Bishop of London. VIE SAILORS STRIKE AT SUNDERLAND. —Two war steamers, the Hecate and Trident, am aneheresl in the Tyne, but as yet there has been no occasion to send one to the Wear. On Tuesday, the Kate, of Bristol, sailed from the South Docks. As she was the first vessel to proceed to sea on a foreign voyage since the strike, some anxiety was felt fur her sate departure, and every precaution was taken by the authorities to prevent mischief; the Mayor (Was. ' Mordey, Esq.) li. Tanner, Esq. (chairman of the Marine Board), and two heats manned by the river police, were in attendance. A large crowd of men on strike assembled at the dock gates and greeted the Kato with groans and hisses ; these were responded to by the crew with hearty cheers, and shoutsj of "Two pounds fifteen, and that is more than lots of you'll get! " lleyvmd this there was no (Wither annoyance. On Wednesday afternoon, the second mate of the brig Peckliffe, on coming ashore from bis vested at the North Dock, was pursued by a group of sailors standing near. lie fell several times, and was very roughly treated by the num; his hat was knocked over his eyes, and he was otherwise a.saaulted. Ultimately he succeeded in getting free from the crowd, and ran to the Ferry-boat Landing, where Serjeant Gunn took him under his protection. Ile seemed much exhausted. A reward of 101. has been offered fur the ap prehension of the offenders. On Wednesday evening a number of sailors were going about the town begging.— Stingier/mid Ikrald. near l4 O N n G e l. rt :N o l n r , Y ; Day, aged 101 years. He is in full possession of all his fa , culties, and can walk to and from °Berton as nimbly aa Tinl„,'hehreniehtolndownwalit:inoig theat Fn.d.wine of John man of 50. According to present appearance he is li kely to be a second Old Parc.--Yoninghons Review. #T , te .~ ~. 4 - 5! - -1