The Press. — London, England, 1858-11-20 00:00:00

THE PRESS, NOVEMBER 20, 1858. 1138 seas " on which her eyelids lighty fall ? or sigh to her . . Swift voice, life flight of dove Through !muster arches floating? or hang upon the "keen lips" that shape soft things like crystals of snow—in Russia, so we have read, words hang like icicles from the beard ? or rave about that tiny foot that dances " till finches chirrup " ? We do not criticize these pretty babblings any more than those of a mother to her child. It is Nature, and she alone, who must bear the blame, if blame there be. Nor would we be so ungallant as to hint to Miss Trevanion that when " the hyacinth pealed from its bells," no music smote upon our car ; or to suggest that Mabel s terror may have caused her teeth to chatter when she whispered to her mother,— I trembled so, I scarce could stand, e'en when in the fresh air; • to ask if it be lawful to transpose the v and the w in the line, 'Mid wet vine•leaves which glistened. This would, indeed, be unkind ; as much so as if on reading Sing MP again the song von sang In that lonely place so still and sweet, we were to exclaim, Surely a sibilant syren she who should sing that 'Jong. But, in truth, there are many pagsages in Mis Trevanion's poems full of grace and tenderness, and as sweet as music on the water. Even Mr. Henry Cecil is not unplea sant when he condescends to be intelligible, and leaves his " llouris, dropping off to sleep," to " warble lovelorn in the lotus-land." As a specimen of his gloomy and grand style, we shall close this tribute to a triad of British Bards by the introductory lines to liquor. "No more prate," said Jack Ginger, " here's " twopence for you to buy some beer—but no," he continued, drav,ing his empty hand from that breeches pocket into which he had most needlessly put it—" no," said hz, "Jerry—get it on credit " wherever you can, and bid them score it to me." "If they will;' said Jerry.—And so on. These glimpses of a state of things prevalent among the " wits and Tcmplars " of the last genera tion, constitute, to us, the greatest charm of these stories. For Magiun's set attempts at wit are, in our opinion, rather lame, or seem so, now. For easy, refined, and almost Addisonian humour commend us to Colonel Hamley. Had Major Flinders been introduced to the world in a three volume novel, and his peculiarities developed, he would have taken his place among the most cherished worthies of English fiction. He is a quiet old bachelor, fond of Shakespeare, fond ol• his pipe, very fond of his dinner, and still fonder of a haruni scarum nephew—an ensign in his own regiment quartered at Gibraltar. The latter contrives to get him married to a Spanish lady, who makes him an excellent wife, but of whose close relation to him the major for a long time was liable to be oblivious. And when, " about a year after his marriage, a new•born female " Flinders (now my venerable aunt) was brought one " morning by the nurse for his inspection and ap " proval, he gazed at it with a puzzled air, and could " not be convinced that he was actually in the " presence of his own flesh and blood, till be had " touched the cheek of his first-born with the point of " his tobacco-pipe, removed from his mouth for that " purpose, making on the infant's countenance a small " indentation." Afterwards, during the siege of Gib raltar, he and his nephew are placing stores in a cavern, and stumble on some deserters engaged in the delightful operation of roasting a pig, which it appears is just done, on a fire of cinnamon wood. They are taken into custody, and then— " Come along, Major," said Owan; " perhaps we may find more of these scoundrels ui the course of our researches." The Alsjor did not move ; he was earnestly regarding the carcass of the pid, that steamed hissing above the embers. '`Queer idea that of the cinnamon fire," sail he. " I wonder how the meat tastes." Owen did not hear him, having walked forward. " Have you got a knife about you, Frank?" said the Major. " Do you know I have a curious desire to ascer tain the flavour. it may be a feature in cookery worth knowing." . . . Owen had not a knife, nor had any of the men, but one of them suggested that the Major's sword would answer the purpose. "To be sure," said the Major. " A good ideal I don't see why swords shouldn't be turned into carving-knives u well as into pruning-hooks." So saying lie drew it from the sheath, and, straddling across the tire, detached a crisp brown mouthful from the pig's ribs, and putting a little salt on it, he conveyed it to his mouth. " Excellent !" cried the Major. " I give you my word of honour, Owen, 'tis excellent. The cinnamon gives it a sort of a —" Here a second and larger mouthful interrupted the criticism. " It must be very near lunch-time," said the Major, pausing, sword in hand, when he had swallowed it; then, pretending to look at his watch—" Bless me, it only wants half-an-hour of it. Do you think this business will take you long, Owen?" " About a couple of boars," said Owen. " Ay, why, there you see," ret.trned the Major, " we shan't get home till long past lunch-time. I really don't see why we shouldn't take a snack now. Nothing can be better than that pig. I only wish the woman had dressed my dinner half as well. Corporal Hudson, would you oblige me with a piece of that biscuit near you ?" And, detaching a large fragment of pork, lie placed it on the biscuit, and sprinkling it with pepper and salt, which condiments had not been forgotten in the gastronomic arrangements of Mr. Bags, he proceeded to follow Owen into the interior of the cave, taking huge bite, as he went. In bold contrast with this ripe and very fruity humour are the striking stories of " The Floating Beacon " and " The Iron Shroud," which to all lovers of the horrible and the marvellous will prove a rare treat, while none on whom Nature has bestowed a keen sense of the ridiculous and a taste for exquisite irony can fail to be delighted with the twu contributions of Professor Aytoun. When another volume or two have made their appearance, we shall perhaps return to the subject. Belgium, and Up and Down the Rhine. Metrical Memorials. London : Nisbet and Ca. THE author of these '° Metrical Memorials" tells us, in his preface, that he was one of a party of four who made a delightful excursion in the year of grace 1836 from London to Frankfort through Belgium, and up the Rhine. So heartily did he enjoy the trip that, like the birds, he instinctively broke out into song. These tuneful strains, which he confesses are not true sonnets, he now offers as an example to others who may travel over the same ground. Some of these l►ttle pieces are by no means devoid of merit, as, for instance, the following lines on the Rhine : 110LANDSECK—A DULL DAY. Misty with cloud-drift, and the passing shower, This is no sunny Rhine ! yet mark how well Each hill and valley gains a solemn power, While mystic shadows weave their wildering spell, Now through the gloom a shapeless mass appears ; The cloud whirls by, and, In, the castle walls, Half hidden, half ruvesl'd, like bygone years: Hark, how toe echo to the echo calls ! While hither, thither, all in shifting light, Winds the proud river, dull, and swift, anj sheer: Now through a cloud rift comes a sunbeam bright, All is clad green ! then, downward hurrying near, The cloudy veil enwraps, like sturdy night; And all again is stern, strange, wild, and drone. The Law of Wills, Executors, and Administrators. By W. A. Holdsworth, Esq. London : Routledge. EVERY man, it seems, is determined upon becoming his own lawyer, the result of which rash resolution will doubtless be a bounteous harvest of litigation. Every day some new handy beuk of law is announced, and the public fondly imagine that they will soon be able to dispense with the aid of wig and gown. To administer to this infatuation Mr. Holdsworth has published a concise guide book for the benefit of will.makers, their executors and administraturs. Ills instructions are precise and clear, and are accom. panied by a large collection of useful forms. Still, they who love sound sleep, good digestion, and length of days, will do well to consult a respectable solicitor, in preference to acting upon their ownjudg ment, even when aided by handy books. Curiosities of Science, Past and Present. By John Timbs, F.S.A. London : Kent and Co. I . Mr. Timbs continues yet a few years to prosecute his useful labours, there will remain little or nothing that is not generally known and familiarly explained. The present little volume of extracts embraces a wide range of study, and contains much interesting information on all kinds of natural phenomena, en livened with curious anecdotes relating to scientific inquirers and their discoveries. Like the previous cotispilatiuns of this conscientious and painstaking writer, the " Curiosities of Science" bears witness to an indefatigable industry combined with a nice appreciation of the sort of knowledge everybody wishes to possess without the trouble of personal investigation. The War Tiger; a Tale of the Conquest of China. By William Dalton. London : Grafitti and Farrell. Mn. DALTON is truly a bold man. He has taken time by the forelock. Instead of waiting for the results of Lord Elgin's treaty, he scours the Celestial Empire from end to end, details the every-day life of the original Chinese, and passes within the pruhi• biteci wall of the unapproachable palace. Love and war, piracy and piety, fraud and fidelity, ignorance and wisdom, are all blended together in a tangled skein, the unravelling of which is effected iu a vigorous and Alexandrian style. The illustrations also, are appropriate and eminently calculated to stimulate the curiosity of juvenile readers, for whose particular amusement and edification this tale host apparently been written. The Forest of Dean; an Historical and Descriptive Account. By H. G. Nicholls, M.A. London Murray. Tetouan more erpecially of local interest, this curious and instructive work will be valued by all who care to know something of the nooks and corners of their own country, and of the old-fashioned folk by whom they are inhabited. The Forest of Dean is a sort of Mesopotamia, lying between the Severn and the Wye, and remarkable for its rich mines of coal ha!! and iron. The latter mineral, indeed, appears to been worked in the time of the Kimmins, as coins of that empire have been found deeply buried beneath heaps of iron cinders, which have existed front ages whereof the memory of man runneth nzt to the con trary. The forest was likewise a great bunting ground in the reign of the Conqueror, who set out from thence in 1001) to expel the Danes from York. shire. The Castle of St. Briavel's is assigned by Giraldus to the time of Henry 1., when it wa.l built by Milo Fitx.Walter to repress the inroads of the Welsh. But although a venerable antiquity attaches to the district and its semi-auliterraneau inhabitants, Christianity may be said to hive been established there within a very recent period. Christian names, of course, were of an earlier origin, but even these were derived chiefly from the Old TeStarnallt.Ar n g the most prevalent were Benedict* , Abia, Winifred/ Kesia, Barziilai, Sibylla, Eve, Saba, Sabina, & a e+ Trypheua, Bilinda, Myra, Terzah, Nimrod, Miles, Milson, Sc. River Jordan is also a favourite presnomen, as likewise Providence. An anecdote is told of a Providence Potter, "one of whose rep " sentatives, a sad drunken fellow, once went to his " iramane squire in pest distress. The tfort h l Rive!, GLENCOE.-A DRAMATIC FRAOMRST. SCINE.—The Heights of G lencoe on the eve of the ma<sacre. A phantom in the garb of a chieftain appears on a ledge of rock, gazing keenly down into the valley with eager and excited gestures. ( Speaks.] Still dark, dark, dark! Curse on the moon! My children ! 0 God, that I could spe ik to warn them ! Hist ! Nay, 'twas my tancy : all is still as death— And shall be till the hour of death. Ye heavens, So calm and silent, where i 4 God ? Where ? where ? He heeds not. Oh, my children ! [ Shrieks are heard from below.] These shrieks were probably from the printers —. Tales from "Blackwood." Vol. 11. London : Blackwoods. THIS serial republication, which has now reached its eighth number, has proved a decided success. Richly hum n•ous without either coarseness or bitterness, powerfully tragic without being bombastic, and deeply touching without any taint of maudling, the tales at present issued seem to promise one of the most delightful miscellanies in the language. But indyendently of their intrinsic merits and popular interest, they possess a peculiar charm for men of letters tis a sort of index of taste and manners during the last eventful half-century. Between the humour of Maginn and Colonel Hamley, for instance, the difference is as strongly marked as between the sentiment of Mrs. Southey and Miss Oliphant. The one is evidently a relic of the old times, when drink, duns, and stealily recurring difficulties upon the subject of dinner, was the common atmosphere of many a gentleman of good parts and education, and formed the staple element in the comic literature of the day. The other is the quiet and decorous slyness which marks the foibles of respectability, feeds upon the weaknesses of jolly old gentlemen, and has altogether an air of good society about it. We have been wonderfully entertained by the ever recurring jokes of the Doctor upon his favourite topics. Bob Burke fights a duel with Ensign Brady ; the life of the latter is preserved by a five-shilling piece in his waistcoat pocket, "though where be go; tt from," says the narrator, " was never accounted for." When the story of the said encounter is con• eluded at a friend's chambers in the temple, one of the party observes that it is time for dinner, and s' has any body the slightest idea where dinner is to "be raised? To this no answer was returned, and we all began to reflect with the utmost intensity." Rd, again, in the account of a banquet at the chambers of the same gentleman, Jack Ginger by same, the wine is obtained by craft from a confiding tradesman, who is never paid. The cheese is procure I upon the same principles ; and at night some ejsters are raised for supper " by superhuman exertions." A party of seven consume a co i's head an l shoulders, a whole leg of boiled pork, an immense pi ce of beef, with cheese and celery to correspond, a gallon of beer, six bottles of' port, and six bottles of whisky. The host wishes to give his servant some I