The Sun. — London, England, 1830-04-01 00:00:00

EnATuttii.' TEMPLE'S TRAVELS IN 'PERU, 2 \rots. Lowrox, 1830. This is a very lively, amusing work, full of anecdote, description, and incident. Mr. Temple describes scenery with the gusto of a professed landscape painter; and in his sketches of charac ter almost rivals Captain Basil Hall. Among his anecdotes we may quote the very entertain ing one on sharks : " There is not a creature, perhaps, of which more ex traordinary stories are toll than of the shark; and to people who know no snore of these animals than what they may have seen in a dried-up skin in a museum, such sto ries may appear embellished ; but those who have any in tercourse with seamen, have many opportunities of being assured that such stories are not exaggerated, but are bona fide true stories. One of these I shall here relate, because I beard it from very good authority, and afterwards had it oorroborated by still better. The principal facts are these : —Some years ago, in the West Indies, a British ship of war fa in with an Amerisan merchant-vessel, which, front circumstances, was generally supposed to be a good and lawful prize; but no papers being found on board to condemn the vessel, and her Captain swearing that all was correct, the British Captain, after the detention of a day or two, was induced to relinquish his capture. Shortly after this (I forget the precise space of time), a shark was caught by another British ship of war on the same station, and in cutting it up (a delightful operation seldom omitted) a tin sale, containing sundry papers, was found in its stomach. They proved to have belonged to the merchant-vessel before mentioned, and had been thrown overboard by the Captain when about to he examined by the British cruiser. The fact win soon discovered; the papers were taken to Port Royal, where the American Captain had ac tually co mmenced an acti on f or d amages aga i nst t h e Bri tish Captain for unlawful detention. The tables were im mediately turned on the astonished Jonathan, whose ship was condemned as a good and lawful prize. The shark was one of the largest size, and the jaws are preserved to this day in the Justice-hall, at Spanish Town, to the an noyance of many a Yankee captain, srho, when ' swear ing' about the destination of his ship and the correctness of his papers, is reminded of this extraordinary detection, by some one in Court significantly pointing to the jaws of the shark, and saying—' Take care, the truth will out, though from the bottom of the sea.' " I have heard this story corroborated by several per son*, and ♦ery lately by an officer who was acquainted with the Commander of the ship, on board which the shark that bad swallowed the tin-box was taken. " Of the voracious nature of the shark we have all fre quently read or heard. The following stories on that sub ject were related to me this day by the Captain and gunner of the Frolic, just afterNhey had each caught a young one, which gave rise to the conversation. When the Diana frigate was lying at anchor off Vera Cruz, one of the ma rines, who was sentry in the stern of the ship, by some occident fell overboard in the night ; and the Ciptain, who was in bed at the time, hearing the splash in the water, jumped up, arid looking out of the stern-gallery, asked Is that a man overboard ?" Yes, Sir, it is me,' said the marine. ' Well, have yon got hold? are you safe?' said the Captain. Yes, Sir, I have hold of the rudder chains, hut my musket is gone !' said the marine. - your musket,' said the Captain, and ran upon deck to order a boat to he lowered, which, in a man-of war is an operation of but a very few minutes. In the act of lowering the boat, a loud shriek was heard, and whe❑ the boat's crew went to picl. up the man, be was not to be seen. Two days after this event, a shark was caught, and hauled on board the Diana, in the stomach of which was.found part of the jacket and a sloe of the unfortunate marine. " The gunner of the Frolic, in the course of the last Year, was employed in the enterprise of cutting out a trench frigate, in which one of his comrades lost a leg, and in a few days died ; when, as is customary on board ship, he was sewn up in his hammock with a heavy weight in it, commonly a couple of twenty-four pound shot. Scarcely tu;enty minutes had elapsed after the body bad been committed to the deep, when the hammock and the bedding were seen floating round the ship, Win to pieces : it is unnecessary to add who or what had so soon robbed them of their oontents. "_There is no fish so easily caught as the shark, and nese perhaps snore difficult to deprive of life. It is really astonishing to see their exertions with both jaws and tail, long after they have been opened, their intestines and other viscera eat out, and the skin stripped from the body. " A few years ago, the master of the ship on board which I now am, caught a shark so large, that to rvoid accidepts in hauling bins on board to kill him, they cut him open alongside; and he assured me, that after open ing him down the middle, from the j tws to the tail, and thoroughly cleaning him, they hoisted him up to the fore yard-arm, where he hung upwards of an hour, (Le vrai pent quelquefois n'etre pas vraisemblable.) lie was then taken down, and hauled on board where he lay stretched alnsj the deck, to all appearance dead as a herring!' Bathe. soon exhibited symptoms of being still a s h ar k, by a/sapping at any person that approached his head, and at last a boy passing heedlessly hy, the animal made a desperate ef fort.towards him with extended jaws, and would inevitably have seised him, bad not one of sailors, who perceived thahoy"itlanget:, pushed him away. After this, they were tAliged to have recourse to a common practise when kill ing their monsters, that of putting across the jaws a crow bar,., or ony other s u bstantial implement, capable of pre ventiiitg: mischief.'. The only observation I have to make on my story is, that it is faithfully repeated." The following is an amusing anecdote—it may fairly rank among anecdotes of obesity " Stopped at the post of Arecife, the master of which is probably the greatest man in the New World—if size and weight constitute greatness. He seldom walks above a few yards from the door of his house, and then drags a chair with him for the convenience of immediate rest. Of the importance of his person he seems himself to be fully aware, as are all the vassals of his domain, for he employs it occasionally as a punishment for the idle and refractory. When a culprit is brought before him, he orders him to lie upon the ground, and then seats himself upon him and smokes a cigar, or perhaps two, according to the nature of the offence; and the poor groaning wretch can no more move under the weight than if buried beneath Mount Athos. The protuberance of this great man's stomach is so large, that the hands of others are required to adjust the buttons of his waistcoat and nether garment, it being impossible for his own to meet for that purpose; and yet he is married to a respectable and good-looking woman, by whom he hits three very fine children. We may reasonable suppose that, as a Gaucho, he is in easy circumstances, from the simple fact, that he has at this slay upwards of ten thousand bead of horned cattle, sheep, and horses, grazing on the Pampas round his premises." FOUR YEARS IN SOUTHERN AFRICA. LONDON, 1830. This is a truly elegant book, full of just thoughts, striking descriptions, and graceful pictorial language. It does infinite credit to the abilities of its author, Mr. Cowper Rose, an officer, we understand, in the Royal Engineers, who modestly under-rating the information he is here the means of communicating to the pub lic, asserts that " his object in his rambles being to seek amusement, he writes but with the view of amusing others." As a specimen of his powers of amusement, we subjoin a ghost story—or something akin to it—as detailed to Mr. Rose by one of the parties concerned in it. The anecdote has an evident reference to the well-known legend of the " Flying Dutchman." " I had command of the W—, a small brig, and was cruising off Madagascar, on the look-out for slave ships :—it was near two o'clock in the day, when I dis covered a sail between us and the coast. We saw it clearly, myself wad the two midshipmen, and determined to keep her in eight, and to watch, but without altering our course, or appearing to notice her; she still continued to creep along the shore, and then, as if suddenly perceiving us fur the first time, hoisted mote sail. I now felt certain that it was a slaver, sad bore down upon her. We had to tack, in order to clear a reef of rock that ran far out ; still, however, we were gaining, wh en , on her making a small headland, I said, Do you still see her?' to a young officer, whose glass was directed towards her. No, she has disappeared behind that paint, and it was so suddenly that I thisk she must have struck her masts and lowered her sails, to lie concealed. am certain now she is a slaver,' I and-she shall not escape us.' We reached the headlapsl, -which formed one of the boundaries of a small bay, in which I felt certain the vessel must be ; but the ereninK was coming on; the- coast was wild and rocky, and I brought my brig to anchor at the month, so that nothing could get out unseen, while I waited for the rising of the moon. A dead calm came on after sunset, and not a sound was to be heard on that lonely cont. Before the m ezin was tip, I had out a boat and four men, and taking .ny pistols, jumped into her, leaving these directions with the elder midshipman, that should I fire one pistol, be should send a boat in the direction of the report; but should it be repeated, he should send both boats and every nan that could be spared. I went and examined every creek, every small inlet of the bay, every rock beneath the shadow of which a boat might have lain concealed. The moon had risen, and gleamed with its cold, pale light on that rocky bay; and when, after a silent search of nearly three hours, I rowed for the brig, and, on approach ing, saw her small deck covered with men, a strange feel ing came over me. Something has happened !' I said. Have you seen her ?' was the question of the elder mid shipman. What, have you seen nothing?'_ Nothing !' I replied. He then told me. that about a quarter of an hour after I had gone, they heard the brig hailed ; that they listened, and again distinctly heard it ; that in about two hours they heard screams,—or,e might have been deceived, but they all heard them ; that a belief came over him, that I had gone on board the slaver, and was detained ; and that just before my return the boat had been ordered out to search for me. " ' All this sounds strangely !' I observed to the narra tor ; ' but how do you explain it ?'—' I cannot explain it.' I ordered careful watch to be kept during the night, and at daybreak again examined every point of the bay. There was no ship, and no sign of wreck. A vague apprehen sion and superstitious feeling was creeping over the men, who gladly left that part of the coast, which I named 'Enchanted Bay.' I have bewildered myself with think ing of it; but such are the facts." ANECDOTAL REMINISCENCES. LONDON, MO. A pleasant and miscellaneous collection of anecdotes relating for the most part to celebrated individuals who have just left the stage of life. We give a specimen of the narrator's manner of telling a story : BENEFICIAL ADVICE. "Mr. Rushworth, a younger brother of a highly re spectable family, after finishing , his education at college, entered the army, and was with the regiment in the Isle of Wight, where he became very intimate with Mr. after wards Lord Holmes; who, one day, in conversation in quired why he did not make his fortune by marriage. Mr. rtushworth, who was a very handsome man, and gallant to an excess (so much so that he actually submitted to have a tooth extracted, that Miss Trefusis, who was suffering with the tooth-ache, and would not submit to the opera tion, until she had seen it performed on another person, might have the demonstration she desired), replied, that he had not as yet taken that subject into consideration ; and Mr. Holmes, by way of exciting his attention snore parti cularly, advised him to run away with the daughter of one of his aeighours, who was very rich, and to whose property she was the heiress. Mr. Rushworth promised to give the conversation due consideration, and as the idea had been started by his friend, he did hot see why he might not profit by the hint he had received. " The lady to whom he was thus urged to propose, was rich, handsome, and an only child; but Mr. Holmes had also an only daughter, who was still lovelier, and heiress to greater wealth ; and Mr. Rushworth thought as be had determined to follow the advice of his friend, he might at the same time follow the dictates of his own inclination, and therefore he took the first opportunity of speaking to Miss Holmes on the subject of love. She heard him com placently, and consented to receive his addresses, though Mr. Holmes bad nut the least suspicion that he was following his advice so closely. In a short time, the young lady learned from her lover, the scheme which had been suggested by her father, and as he urged her to put it in execution, she saw no harm in consenting to take a trip to Gretna with him, instead of allowing the lady her father had so kindly recommended to him as a travelling companion, to fill up a seat in a post-chaise ; and every preliminary having been arranged, and their passage to Southampton secretly secured, Miss Holmes feigned indisposition at the dinner-hour, and while the family were partaking of this meal, guided by her lover, she had reached the packet-boat, and was on her way to Southampton. _ _ " In the evening, as Miss Holmes did not make her ap pearance, her mother retired from the company to attend the wants and wishes of her daughter,—but no daughter was to be fuund or heard of; and, in the first moment of alarm, she hastened to inform Mr. Holmes of her fears. He was a man of very strong sense, and, for the brat time, suspecting the truth, he sent messengers in every direction to seek Mr. Rushworth. The search was in vain : Mr. Holmes was satisfied what turn matters had taken, and without a moment's delay took boat and fol lowed them to Southampton. " Miss Holmes was not above seventeen, and very girlish-looking of her age, though exceedingly handsome. It was her custom to take a ride daily, in company with the friends and numerous visitors of the family; and, on the morning of her elopement, she had, as usual, taken leave of her mother, with her general salution of, Good bye, I am going to ride out with Rush, and the rest.' During this ride the arrangement was made, and Mr. Holmes now perceived that his advice bad not been thrown away on his young friend. fugitives reached London without opposition, hut owing to the obstinacy of Miss Holmes, who protested she would not stir a step further, until a regimental habit was made for her, their progress was interrupted by the arrival of her father, who had traced them closely from stage to stage, and eventually obtained, by the garrulity of his tailor, of whom the habit had been ordered by some unac countable chance, a clue to their temporary retreat in the metropolis. "The scene between Mr. Holmes and Rushworth was not of that description which generally takes place at the first meeting of the opposite parties on similar occasions. Neither of the gentlemeri,could help smiling, and Rush worth, first breaking silence, said, I have only followed your advice.' I acknowledge it,' replied Mr. Holmes, ' but hear me, Rushworth, you have taken away my daughter, and must either return or proceed : the decision rests with yourself. Ifyou persist in marrying her now, not one shilling shall ever be yours or hers—if you will take her back, and wait twelve months longer, she shall be your wife with my free consent.' The latter proposi tion was instantly agreed to, and the party proceeded to gether to the Isle of Wight." FAMILY CLASSICAL LIBRARY.—LoNnox, 1830. This, which forms the second volume of Xenophon, consists of the Hon. Mr. Cooper's translation of the Cyropradia, one of the most fascinating histories ever penned. The volume is neatly printed, and does credit to the Valpy Press. SYNOPSIS OF FRENCH GRAMMAR. LONDON, 1830. A sort of French accidence, upon the plan of the Eton Latin one, only simpler in its arrange ment, and more explanatory in its rules. M. Merlet, teacher of the French language at the London University, is the author of this service able Grammar. A HISTORY OF MUSIC. EDINBURGH, 1830. " The present work," says Mr. William C. Stafford, the Editor, in a brief but pertinent Preface, " does not pretend to be a scientific history of music, but a popular account of the progress of the art for the use of the many thousand individuals who now take an interest in musical subjects, but to whom a learned and e laborate treatise would offer few attractions." The volume is precisely what is here described, a light and entertaining history of the progress of music from the earliest recorded periods down to the present times. It forms the Fifty-second Number of Constable's intelligent Miscellany. PANORAMA OF THE MAINE.-LONDON, 1830. To those who desire to glean an accurate knowledge of the topographical peculiarities of the river Maine, from Mayence to Frankfort, we strongly recommend this ingenious Pano rama. The different places on the river's banks are laid do .vn with the minute accuracy of one of the East India Company's charts, and the tout ensemble gives a lively idea of the com merce and sceni c variety of this river. MAGAZINE DAY. BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. The only fault w e fi n d w i t h thi s otherwise excellent number is its perpetual recurrence to politics. We have actually no less than five long articles, all more or less connected with politics, i t this one number. The consequence is that there is a heaviness about it which scarcely even the 64 Nodes," though they are this month ad mirable, can relieve. Among the more read ahl articles we extract the following from the pen of the modern Pythagorean : POETICAL PORTRAITS. " Orient pearls at random strun SHAESPEARE. His was the wizard spell, The spirit to enchain His grasp o'er nature fell, Ci cation own'd his reign. MILTON. His spirit was the home Of aspirations high ; A temple, whose huge dome Was hidden in the sky. BYRON. Black clouds his forehead bound, And at his feet were flowers : Mirth, Madness, Magic found In him their keenest powers. SCOTT. lie sings, and to ! Romance Starts from its mouldering urn, While Chivalry's bright lance And nodding plumes return. sPENSER. Within th' enchanted womb Of his vast genius, lie Bright streams and groves, whose gloom Is lit by Una's eye. WORDSWORTH. He hung his harp upon Philosophy's pure shrine; And placed by Nature's throne., Composed each placid line. WILSON. His strain, like holy hymn, Upon the ear doth float, Or voice of cherubim, In mountain vale remote. GRAY. Soaring on pinions' proud, The lightnings of his eye Scar the black thunder-cloud, He passes swiftly by. BURNS. He seized his country's lyre, With ardent grasp and strong ; And made his soul of fire Dissolve itself in song. BAILLIE. The Passions are thy slaves ; In varied guise they roll Upon the stately waves Of thy majestic soul. CAROLINE BOWLES. In garb of sable hue Thy soul dwells all alone, Where the sad drooping yew Weeps o'er the funeral stone. HCMANS. To bid the big tear start, Unchallenged, from its shrine, And thrill the quivering heart With pity's voice, are thine, TIG HE. On zephyr's amber wings, Like thine own Psyche borne, Thy buoyant spirit springs To hail the bright-eyed morn. LANDON. Romance and high-sourd Love, Like two comm ngling streams, Glide through the flowery grove Of thy enchanted dreams. MOORE. Crown'd with perennial flowers, By Wit and Genius wove, He wanders through the bowers Of Fancy and of Love. SOUTHEY. Where Necromancy flings O'er Eastern lands her spell, Sustain'd on Fable's wings, His spirit loves to dwell. COLLINS. Waked into mimic life, The Passions round him throng, While the loud " Spartan fife Thrills through his startling song. CAMPBELL. With all that Nature's fire Can lend to polish'd Art., He strikes his graceful lyre To thrill or warm the heart. COLERIDGE. Magician, whose dread spell, Working in pale moonlight, From Superstition's cell Invokes each satellite ! COWPER. Religious light is shed Upon his soul's dark shrine; And Vice veils o'er her head At his denouncing line. TOUNG. Involved in pall of gloom, He haunts, with footsteps dread, The murderer's midnight tomb, And calls upon the dead. GRAHAME. 0 I when we hear the bell Of" Sabbath" chiming free, It strikes us like a knell, And makes us think of Thee! W. L. BOWLES. From Nature's flowery throne His spirit took its flight, And moves serenely on In soft, sad, tender light. SHELLEY. A solitary rock In a far distant sea, Rent by the thunder's shock, An emblem stands of Thee! J. MONTGOMERY. Upon thy touching strain Religion's spirit tali., Falls down like drops of rain, And blends divinely there. HOGG. Clothed in the rainbow's beam, 'Mid strath and pastoral glen, He sees the fairies gleam, Far from the haunts of men. THOMSON. The Seasons as they roll Shall bear thy name along ; And graven on the soul Of Nature, live thy song. MOIR. On every gentler scene That moves the human breast, Pathetic and serene, Thine eye delights to rest. BARRY CORNWALL. Soft Is thy lay—a stream Meand'ring calmly by, Beneath the moon's pale beam Of sweet Italia's sky. CRABBE. Wouldst thou his pictures know, Their power—their harrowing truth, — Their scenes of wrath and woe— Go gaze on hapless " Ruth." A. CUNNINGHAM. Tradition's lyre he plays With firm and skilful hand, Singing the olden lays Of his dear native land. KEATS. Fair thy young spirit's mould-- Thou from whose heart the streams Of sweet Elysium roll'd Over Endymion's dreams. BLOOMFIELD. Sweet bard, upon the tomb In which thine ashes lie, The simple wildflowers bloom Before the ploughman's eye. HOOD. Impugn I dare not thee, For I'm of pussy brood ; And thou wouldst punish me With pungent hardinoon. A MODERN PYTHAGOREAN. NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. "The First Month of the Session" is a spirited and pithy article, with one sentence in it which contains a severe point :—" A junior boy, in the fifth form at Westminster, is quite good enough to chop logic with Sir James Scarlett ; he is entirely beneath the criticism of scholars and gentlemen." " Mr. Dickson's Account of the Mexican Banditti," though scarcely so deeply thrilling in its painful interest as it was in the former paper, is yet well worthy of perusal, especially as the writer speaks boldly out, with the vividness of personal experience. English Manners, or Satiric Sketches," is lively,piquant, and amusing. Th e i r on l y d e f ect , is, tliere is too much of them. " Notices of the Life of Byron, by Mr, Moore, and Remarks on those Notices, by Lady Byron," is a sharp and stinginginvective, directed by M r. C amp b e ll ..-.who buckles on his arm our i n d e f ence ho of Lady Byron in the spirit of a Paladin of oagainst Mr. Moore, f or t h e mo d e i n which he e—has discussed the circu mstances o f t h e romance n quarrel and separation between the Noble poet and his Lady. The style of this article con trasts singularly enough with that o f t letter, written by Mr. Campbell to Mr. Moore, and published but a few weeks since in The Sun. We extract Mr. Campbell's " Notices," they will doubtless much interest our readers:— NOTICES of the LIFE of LORD BYRON by MR. MOORE, . _ and REMARKS on those NOTICES by LADY BYRON. " Mr. Aloore's Life of the Noble Bard was reviewed in our last number : it must now be reviewed again.— Among the literary notices of the New Monthly,' I con sented to the insertion of a laudatory account of the work ; nay, more, I expunged a portion of the manuscript cri tique, in which Mr. Moore was censured for unf a i rness towards Lady Byron. This I did from unwillingness to blame any friend Mr. Moore, and from having scarcely tippet into the censured parts of the book. Besides, I did not then believe Lady Byron to be so perfectly justi fiable in the separation as I now know her to be. Such were the circumstances under which I circulated among thousands the little warranty of my approbation of a work, which I find, on closer inspection, to he one of the most injudicious books that was ever published. But since that time, the state of circumstances has wholly changed.— Lady Byron has spoken out. As her friend, I could not keep my mind quiet about her feelings under this ill-starred resuscitation of the question concerning her. I consulted several of her friends ; and it was their joint opinion, that since the ice of reserve had been broken by Lord Byron's biographer on the luckless topic, it would be the duty of some one of her friends to say in answer to Mr. Moore something more than Lady Byron could with propriety say herself. A female friend offered to do this, and she would have probably done it better than I can. But I could not be such a craven as to let a woman come forward in nay place. I went to Lady Byron for such general cir cumstances of truth as might not involve her in accusing Lord Byron. For more particular facts repecting the separation, I applied to a different but perfectly authentic quarter ; and there 1 learnt a few facts, which, though my readers need not fear that I shall inflict them on their delicacy, suffice to convince me that Lady Byron was jus tified in the parting by circumstances which Lord Byron had either forgot, or, with all his manly candour,' had tailed to state to Mr. Moore. " My plainness in speaking of Mr. Moore is a compli ment to his importance and popularity, which would make a weak or timid remonstrance incapable of reaching him. My interest in a suffering woman needs no apology. " I found my right to speak on this painful subject on its now irrevocable publicity, brought up afresh, as it has been by Mr. Moore, to be the theme of discourse to mil lions, and, if I err not much, the cause of mieconception to innumerable minds. I claim to speak of Lady Byron in the right of a man, and of a friend to the rights of women, and to liberty, and to natural religion. I claim a right, more especially, as one of the many friends of Lady Byron, who, one and all, feel aggrieved by this production. It has virtually dragged her forward from the shade of re tirement, where she had hid her sorrows, and compelled her to defend the heads of her friends and her parents from being crushed under the tombstone of Byron. Nay, in a general view, it has forced her to defend herself ; though with her true sense and her pure taste, she stands above all special pleading. To plenary explanation she ought not—she never shall be driven. Mr. Moore is too much a gentleman not to shudder at the thought of that; but if other Byronists, of a fir different stamp, were to force the savage ordeal, it is her enemies, and not she, that would have to dread the burning ploughshares. " We, her friends, have no wish to prolong the discus sion ; but a few words we must add, even to her admirable statement—for her's is a cause not only dear to herfriends, but baring become, from Mr. Moore and her misfortunes, a publicly agitated cause, it concerns morality, and the most sacred rights of the sex, that she should (and that, too, without snore special explanations) be acquitted out and out. and honourably acquitted in this business, of all share in the blame which is one and indivisible. Mr. Moore, in farther reflection, may see this, and his return to can dour will surprise us less than his momentary deviation from its path. " For the tact of Mr. Moore's conduct in this affair 1 have not to answer; but, if indelicacy be charged upon me, I scorn the charge. Neither will I submit to be called Lord Byron's accuser—because a word against him I wish not to say, beyond what is painfully wrung from me by the necessity of owning or illustrating Lady Byron's un blameableness, and of repelling certain misconceptions re specting her, which are now walking the fashionable world, and which have been fostered (though Heaven knows wherr - they were born) most delicately and warily by the Christian godfathership of Mr. Moore. " I write not at Lady Byron's bidding—l have never humiliated either her or myself by asking if I should write, or what I should write—that is to say, I never applied to her for information against Lord Byron, though I was justified, as one who intended to criticise Mr. Moore, to inquire into the truth of some of his statements. Neither will I suffer myself to be called her champion, if by that word be meant the advocate of her mere legal innocence, for that, I take it nobody questions. Still less is it from the sorry impulse of pity that I speak of this noble woman, for I look with wonder and even envy, at the proud purity of her sense and conscience, that heve carried her exquisite sensibilities in triumph through suchpoignant tribulations. But I am proud to be called her friend—the humble illus trator of her cause, and the advocate of those principles which make it to me more interesting than Lord Byron's. Lady Byron (if the subject must be discussed) belongs to sentiment and morality—at least as much as Lord Byrom ; nor is she to he suffered, when compelled to speak, to raise her voice as in a desert, with no friendly voice to respond to her. Lady B. could not have outlived her sufferings, if she had not wound up her fortitude to the high point of trusting mainly for consolation, not to the opinion of the world, but to her own inward peace ; and having said what ought to convince the world, I verily believe that she has less care about the fashionable opinion respecting her than any of her friends can have. But we, her friends, mix with the world, and we hear offensive absurdities about her which we have a right to put down. " What Lady Byron professes to be her main aim in her Remarks on the Life of her Husband, it seems to me that she very clearly accomplishes. lam not sure that I should feel my esteem for Byron, or for any man, much enhanced, by finding that a foolish relative or two could sever from him a wife once doatingly found of him. But we have not a tittle of fair evidence against the pack of —, as his Lordship politely calls them ; and, to throw the blame on her parents, is proved ridiculous by Dr. Lushington's letter, for it shows that the deepest cause or causes of the separation, were not imparted to her parents. I di sm i ss , therefore, this hinted plea of palliation with contempt. " I proceed to deal more generally with Mr. Moore's book. You speak, Mr. Moore, against Lord Byron's censurers in a tone of indignation which is perfectly lawful towards calumnious traducers, but which will not terrify me, or any other man of courage, who is no calum n i a t or , f rom uttering his mind freely with regard to this part of your hero's conduct. I think your whole theory ***out the un marriageableness of genius a twaddling little hint for a compliment to yourself, and a theory refuted by the wedded lives of Scott and Flaxman. I question your philosophy in assuming that all that is noble in Byron's poetry w a s inconsistent with the possibility of his being devoted to a pure and good woman—and I repudiate your morality for canting too complacently about the lava of his imagina tion,' and the unsettled fever of his passions being any excuses for his planting the tic douloureux of domestic suffering in a meek woman's bosom. These are hard words, Mr. Moore; but you have brought them on your self by your voluntary ignorance of facts known to me— for you might, and ought to have known both sides of the question ; and if the subject was too delicate for you to consult Lady Byron's confidential friends, you ought to have had nothing to do with the subject. But you cannot have submitted your book even to Lord Byron's sister, otherwise she would have set you right about the imagi nary spy, Mrs. Clermont. " Hence arose your misconceptions, which are so nume rous, that having applied to Lady Byron (you will please to observe that I applied not for facts against Lord Byron, for these I got elsewhere, but for an estimate of the air rectums of your statements), I received the following let ter from her Ladyship e..-: . . Dear Mr. Campbell,—ln taking up my pen to point out for your private information . those passages in Mr. Moore's repre sentation of my part of the story which were open to contrarlic.. tion, I find them of still greater extent than I had supposed—and to deny an assertion here and there would virtually admit the truth of the rest. If, on the contrary, I were to enter into a full exposure of the falsehood of the views taken by Mr. Moore, I must detail various matters, which, consi.tently with my prin ciples and feelings, I cannot, under the existing circumstances, disclose. I may, perhaps, convince you better of the difficulty of the case by an example It is not true that pecuniary embar. rassments were the cause of the disturbed state of Lord Byron's mind, or formed the chief reason for the arrangements made by him at that time. But is it reasonable for me to expect that you, or any one else, should believe this, unless I show you what were the causes in question ? and this I cannot do.'—l am, &c. &c. E. NOEL BYRON.' “Excellent woman! honoured by all who know her, a nd injured only by those who know her not—l will believe her on her own testimony. gi What I regret most in Mr. Moore's Life of Lord Byron is, that he had in his own hands the only pure means of serving Lord Byron's character, which was his Lordship's own touching confession, and that he has thrown sway the said means by garnishing that fair confession with un fair attempts at blaming others. In Letter 235 Lord By • ” I had not time to ask Lady Byron's permission to print this private letter, but it seemed to m e i m p or t an t, a nd I published it Imo periatio." run takes al tte blame on himself. The fault,' he se,O, was not, no, nor even the misfortune, in my choice (unless in choosing at all); but I must say it in the very dregs of ;II this bitter business, that there never was a better, or even a kinder or more amiable and agreeable being, than Lady Byron. I never had, nor ever can have, any re proach to snake her while with me.' Now nothing in Lord Byron's poetry is finer than this. But why, Mr. Moore, have you frozen the effect of this melting candour by dishing up the inconsistencies of Lord Byron on the same subject, and by showing your own ungallant indif ference to the thus acquitted Lady Byron? In the name of both of them I reprove you. Byron confesses, but you try to explain away his confession ; and by - y our hints at spies, unsuitableness, &c., you dirty awl puddle the holy water of acknowledgment that alone will wash away the poor penitent man's transgressions. You resort to Byron's letter to Mr. Rogers for the means of inealrating Lady Byron and ber friends. as blamers of Lord Byron. But they never said more than that Lord Byron's temper was intolerable to Lady Byron. That was true, and they never circulated any calumnies against him. " There is equal injustice in the allusion to Lord Byron having been ever surrounded by spies. What spy was near him ? The only person deneuncsd in that odious capacity by Lord Byron himself was Mrs. Clermont ; and what was the fact with regard to her ? If Mrs. Clermont was a spy, surely the last per. son in the world to have acquitted her would have been Mrs. Leigh, the sister of Lord Byron ; but I have in my possession the authentic copy of a letter flora Mrs. Leigh to the same Mrs. Clermont, earnestly acquitting her of the calumny, and offering even public testimony to her (Mrs Clermont's) tenderness and forbearance (I copy Mrs. Leigh's words) under circumstances that must have been trying to any friend of Lady Byron. Another un worthy expression of Mr. Moore's is, teat of calling Lord Byron a deserted husband.' Let him read Lady Byron's remarks, and blot out this absurdity from his volume. Dr. Lushington, versed in the harshest cases of justifiable separation, and bound to admit none of a slight na ture, thought that it was impossible she could live with him. " You should have paused Mr. Moore, before you com pelled any friend of Lady Byron to bring out this truth. " It is a farther mistake on Mr. Moore's part, and I can prove it to be so, if proof be necessary, to represent Lady Byron, in the course of their courtship, as one inviting i her future husband to correspondence by letters after she had at first refused him. She never proposed a corres pondence. On the contrary, he sent her a message after that first refusal, stating that he meant to go abroad, and to travel for some years in the East; that he should depart with a heart aching, but not angry; and that he only begged a verbal assurance that she had still some interest in his happiness. Could Miss Millbank, as a well-bred woman, refuse a courteous answer to surh a message? She sent him a verbal answer, which was merely kind and be coming, but which signified no encouragement that he should 's renew his offer of marriage. After that message he wrote to her a most interesting letter about himself— about his views, personal, moral, and religious, to which it would have been uncharitable not to have replied. The result was an insensibly increasing correspondence, which ' ended in her being devotedly attached to him. About that time I occasionally saw Lord Byron, and though I knew less of him than Mr. Moore, yet I suspect I knew as much of him as Miss Millbank then knew. A t that time he was so pleasing, that if I had a daughter with ample fortune and beauty, I should have trusted her in marriage with Lord Byron. " Mr. Moore at that period evidently understood Lori Byron better than either his future bride or myself; but this speaks more for Mr. Moore's shrewdness than for Byron's ingenuousness of character. " It is another improper insinuation, when Mr. Moore hints at a resemblance between the first wife of Milton and the widow of Byron. The parallel is disgustingly unfair. Of Milton's married life we know not much ; but, upon the whole, it is clear that his wife could not have got two ho nourable men to justify her departure. She went away from him, to all appearance, in rashness, and returned, for her own convenience, in repentance. Lady Byron acted no each part. Produce on Ms. Milton's part a Dr. Lush ington to speak for her, and we will meet you in the parallel ; but beware of the ploughshare ! " It is more for Lord:Byron's sake than for his widow's that I resort not to a. more special examination of Mr. Moore's misconceptions. The subject would lead me in sensibly into hateful disclosures against poor Lord Byron, who is more unfortunate in his rash defenders, than his reluctant accusers. Happily his own candour turns our hostility from himself against his defenders. It was only in wayward and bitter remarks that he misrepresented Lady Byron. He would have defended himself irresistibly if Mr. Moore had left only his acknowledging passages. But Mr. Moore has produced a Life of him which reflects blame on Lady Byron—so dextrously that more is meant than meets the ear. The almost universal impression pro duced by his book is, that Lady Byron must be a preciae, and a wan, unwarming spirit—a blue stocking of chilbl sued learning, a piece of insensitive goodness. Who that knows Lady Byron, will not pronounce her to be everything the reverse ? Will it be believed that this person, so un suitably matched to her moody Lord, bas written verses that would do no discredit to Byron himself—that her sensitiveness is surpassed and bounded only by her good sense, and tbat she is Blest with a temper, whose unclouded ray Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day. She brought to Lord Byron, beauty, manners, fortune, meekness, romantic affection, and everything that ought to have made her to the most transcendent man of genius— had he been what he should have been—his pride and his idol. I speak not of Lady Byron in the common-place manner of attesting character; I appeal to the gifted Mrs. Siddons and Joanna Baillie, to Lady Charlemont and to other ornaments of their sex, whether I am exaggerating in the least when I say that in their whole lives they have seen few beings so intellectual and well-tempered as Lady Byron. I wish to be as ingenuous as possible in speaking of her. Her manner, I have no hesitation to say, is cool at the first interview, but it is modestly, and not insolently cool : she contracted it, I believe, from being exposed by her beauty and large fortune in youth to numbers of suitors, whom she could not have otherwise kept at a distance...— But this manner could have had no influence with Lord Byron, for it vanishes on nearer acquaintance, and has no origin in coldness. All her friends like her frankness the better for being preceded by this reserve. This manner, however, though not the slightest apology for Lord Byron, has been inimical to Lady Byron in her misfortunes. It endears her to her friends, but it piques the indifferent.— Most odiously unjust, therefore, is Mr. Moore's assertion, that she has had the advantage of Lord Byron in public opinion. She is, comparatively speaking, unknown to the world ; for though she has many friends—that is, a friend in every one who knows her—yet her pride, and purity, and misfortunes, naturally contrast the circle of her ac quaintance. There is something exquisitely unjust in Mr. Moore comparing her chance of popularity with Lord Byron's ; the poet who can command wets of talents, put ting even Mr. Moore into the livery of his service, and who has suborned the favour of almost all women by the beauty of Iris person and the voluptuousness of his verses. Lady Byron has nothing to oppose to these fascinations but the truth and justice of her cause. "The true way of bringing off Byron from this question of his conjugal unhappiness would be his own way, namely to acknowledge frankly this one, and, perhaps the only one great error of his life. Acknowledge it, and after all, what a space is still left in our minds for allowance and charity, and even for admiration of him ! All men, as they are frail and fallible beings, are concerned in palli ating his fault—to a certain degree they are concerned ; though if you reduce the standard of duty too low, the meanest man may justly refuse to sympathise with your apology for a bad husband, and disdain to take . the benefit of an insolvent act in favour of debtors to morality. But pay the due homage to moral principle, frankly own that the child of genius is, in this particular, not to be de fended—abstain front absolving Byron on false grounds, and you will do him more good than by idle attempts at justification. Above all, keep off your sentimental mum meries from the hallowed precincts of hie widow's charac ter. There, Mr. Moore, you must not fish for compli ments, or poach for the pathetic.—Byron acquitted at Lady Byron's expellee, can be taken home to no honest heart's sympathy, though there is no saying how much the heart yearns to forgive him when there is no sophistry used in his defence. "You said, Mrg Moore, that Lady Byron was unsuitable to her Lord—the word is cunningly insidious, and may mean as much or as little as may suit your convenience. But if she was unsuitable, I remark, that it tells all the worse against Lord Byron. I have not read it in yonr book, for I hate to wade through it ; but they tell me, that you have not only warily depreciated Lady Byron, but that you have described a lady that would have suited him. If this be true, it is the unkindest cut of all—to hold up a florid description of a woman suitable to Lord Byron, as if in mockery over that forlorn flower of virtue that was drooping in the solitude of sorrow. But I trust there is no such paasage in your book. Surely you must be con scious of your woman with her ' virtue loose about her who would have suited Lend Byron' to be as imaginary a being as the woman without a bead. A woman to suit Lord Byron ! ! ! Poo ! poo ! I could paint to you the woman that could have matched him, if I had not bar gained to say as little as possible against him. " If Lady Byron was not suitable to Lord Byron, so much the worse for his Lordship ; for la me tell you, Moore, that neither your poetry, nor Lord Biroiers,.nikr ii our poetry put together, ever delineated a more interint i ing being than the woman whom you have so toidir, trelted. Thi s w as no t ki c ki ng t h e dead lion, but - wottid-14 ing the living lamb, w h o was a l rea d y bl eed i ng and shorai.:4; 4 t" rven unto the quick. I know that, collectively spealthirgsMsi 6 the world is in Lady Byron's favour ; but it is 0)14 favourable, and you have not warmed its breath. - • Timei however, cures every thing ; and even your book, Moore, may be the means of Lady Byron's character being - :- better appreciated. " THOMAS CAMPBELL" • MONTHLY MAGAZINE. We like this number exceedingly. It is varied, • sprightly, and instructive, without being cum brous or wearisome. Most of the articles are good, and one or two, the legend of " The Fiend of the Ferry," and the " Proceedings of the British Parliament," of a superior character. The following observations on the Thames Tun- ' nel are sensible and well-timed. " Through good and evil we have fought for the Thames tunnel. We have made our pilgrimage to its shrine, braved the depths of Deptford to see it, and never grieved over the loss of that which, as Pope tells, ran between. Swift and the love of a shirt or a supper, which ousted . Marlborough of his fame, and which, in my own degene rate day, stripped Lord Melville of his Privy Councillor's gown, and had nearly stripped Blenheim of its ancient mo narchs of the grove. In humbler language, we paid our shilling, and were glad. The sight wag, in the simplest r Ain of pr,,fit, worth the money; mad we hope that our word will go so far with the world as to stir it up to defy even the perils of a navigation through the streets of Deptford, to see the tunnel, and to see in it the meet singular evidence of the powers of human ingenuity- and intelligent labour that the world can boast of—a work ten times the value of the Pyramids, the wonder of the old world; and ten times requiring more invention and intelligence than the route of the Simplon, the wonder of the modern. " The annual meeting of the proprietors of this under taking was lately held at at the City of London Tavern. It appeared from a report which was read, that little or no progress has been made towards a completion of the work ; but that they do not despair of its accomplishment whenever the prosperity of the country may be such as t 0... eneouraze loans and subscriptions of money for the pur pose. Upwards of 26,000 visitors have, durinr , the last year, been admitted, paving the usual price, which has assisted very ranch towards the expenditure. ,( We say to them, that the time will certainly come, when their admirable work will be felt to be, what it is, ~ a national object—an honour to the country, which the country will be proud to sustain, even if it were solely . as the triumph of its talent ; but which will be to the pro prietors a magnificent source of revenue from the moment of its completion." MONTHLY REVIEW. Our very limited space compels us, in alluding to this Review, to restrict ourselves to the re mark that it is an able number, and that the comments on Lady Byron's late letter respecting Mr. Moore's « Notices" are penned in a spirit of just, natural, and healthy feeling. BRITISH MAGAZINE. A Magazine unexceptionable in the style and tendency of its articles, and well calculated to amuse, if not instruct its readers. The follow ing anecdote of the remaining Miss Both is in teresting, and new to us. " THE MISSES BOTM. " Our readers will recollect the romantic but unhappy story of three unfortunaterianoverian sisters ;,...of the eve, two drowned themselves in Switserlaid, they tied a shawl round their waists, and plunged together into the Lake of Geneva ; the remaining three, it will be rernenthereel, plunged from a boat off Greenwich Hospital, one of -dune perished, the other two were saved by the boatman; w ithin the last few months these two attempt e d t o d e St ro y tliiriu selves by taking laudanum at a house in the Regent's. park—the life of ore was saved, the other died. PerhaPs the most extraordinary part of the story remains to lts told. The Newspapers, of course, carried the melancholy intelligence to Hanover, where it was perused by a gentle.. man of high rank and considerable wealth, who had been many years ago attached to this only surviving one of the sisters. He immediately embarked for England, offered mart iage to Miss Adolphine Both,—she is now his wife, and they are on the eve of embarking from London for Italy, To this we may add, that the statements of their near connection with the Royal Family of England are perfectly correct." ASIATIC JOURNAL. The Asiatic Journal answers fully and_ satis factorily the purpose for which it was intended, namely, that of conveying to its English readers the earliest, and completest, and most authentic intelligence on all matters connected with our empire in the East. But in. addition to its Oriental information, it has occasionally articles of high literary merit, of which the article in the present number, entitled, " The Hieroglyphics of Horapoilo," forms a curious and favourable specimen. We have no space for extracts. UNITED SERVICE JOURNAL. " Personal Narrative of Captain Glasspoole" is the best paper in the present number of a Magazine, which, by the variety of its contents, (for it is much improved within the last two or three months) seems to afford very general satisfaction. EDINBURGH LITERARY JOURNAL. _ . The Reviews in this Journal, which are its chief feature, are for the most part judiciously and impartially written. This is especially the ease with the number which we have just received. ~- P°s prit Thi Nei sn b( FRASER'S RIAGAZINE. We have inf'nite respect forthie.vecy,chtver, and—we are glad to learn—rising periodical, for the honest, manly, classical, and uncotn promising stand that it has made against the prevailing cant and nuisance of the day,.its (miscalled) religious poetry, the major part of which is but blasphemy in masquerade..-. The Editor is really doing a service to literature and true religion, by boldly entering his protest against the Methodistical sentimentality with which the public have for the last two or three years been deluged, usque ad nauseam- We must except, however, from this censure:Mr. Edmund Reade, whose poem on " Caiti; the Wanderer," baiting a few irregularities of Ili:Yawn —is beyond all comparison the finest. poem that has appeared since the days of 13y zap. One of the best articles in • the present,nuit ber is the Review of " Mount Sinai," by Mr. Phillips. " Fashionabl e Novels" also and is penn e d in a strong trutli Pri*assF B spirit. The number, on th e w h o l e, i s an . ac hni • rable one. merit, =tePing .•, SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHER'S MAGAZI`NE. A useful and intelligent raiseellany, rel ilet e with pertinent moral essays, w e ll- conce i ved ,an d well expressed. Its utility may be conceived when we mention that it happily adapts - itself to the literary wants of the young studenrat'Stin day Schools, in which establishments about a million and a quarter of children are annually educate 4 . Real Di Unit Prot 14,m oft ,