The Sun.
London, England, 1837-01-04 00:00:00

LIBRARY OF FICTION.

As tales of the sea are now all the rage, this pe-
riodical, catering adroitly for the public taste, fur-
nishes us with the " Midshipman's Expedients," which
is rather an amusing story, or rather anecdote, from
the,pen of the author of " Rattlin the Reefer." The
sketch of a middy's berth, anal of the progress of his
toilette, on an occasion when the youngster is desir-
ous to figure as a sea-Adonis, is drawn from the life,
as, indeed, is the whole tale, which no mere lands-
man could have written. The " Preacher Parrot, or
the Trials of Truth," by Douglas Jerrold, conveys a
useful lesson in a very impressive manner. Poor
Poll, it seems, has graduated at an auctioneer's, where
he has picked up a variety of phrases, which he al-
ways blurts out at the most unseasonable times. Thus
at the very moment when his first purchaser, Mr. Pho-
cion, a patriotic Member of the House of Commons,
is replying to the regrets of his wife that lie has ob-
tained nei'Aer post nor pension ; and declaring in a
lofty tone, ' it is my glory to prove that there is still
some public virtue left, and know if I hold off from
golden temptatim:—lf I refuse with inexpressible
scorn to sell myself to the Minister, it is for this
proud reason, that I have had"—at the very moment,
we say, that this placeless patriot is thus sublimely de-
livering himself, the parrot with impertinent propriety,
screams out " no bidders"--
Good God ! who's that ?" cried the patriot, turning
as pale as though called by the accusing angel.
" No bidders ! no bidders ! no bidders !" replied the
parrot; from its auction vocabulary.
Mr. Phocion stared and gasped at the bird as if a demon
spoke in it.—a malignant spirit that had possessed itself of
the heart of the statesman's mystery.
" In the name. of Heaven, Mrs. Phocion," said her hus-
band, taking breath from his astonishment, " where did you
get that plague ?"
"No bidders!" said the irritating parrot. Unhappily,
there lay on the table a copy of the Report of the Law
.Commission. It will give the reader a very favourable idea
of Mr. Phocion's strength, when we state that he seized
the tome with one hand, and flinging it at the speaker, the
corner of the book caught the right eye of the bird, and
extinguished its light. In a very short time, the parrot
was thrust, with curses on its head, from the hearth of the
Senator."

, Poll soon afterwards meets with other purchasers ;
but he is so confoundedly matter-of-fact and unseason-
able in his exclamations, that everywhere he is treated
with cruelty, rich and poor equally combining to resent
his truth-telling propensity. He is at last killed by a
shoemaker's wife, for replying to her modest praises of
herself in presence of her husband, that she was—
to use an auctioneering phrase—" cheap as dirt." But
what becomes of this sincerest of parrots when dead ?
Mr. Jerrold shall tell us in his own pungent style.

" Lady H— had the most splendid collection of all that
was rich and rare. Happy were they admitted to the
wonders of her museum. And, pray, what have we here ?'
asked a foreign Countess, pausing before our stuffed parrot
—a parrot with its every feather composed, its eye replaced,
set up in atl erect and self-asserting posture, standing be-
math a dome of glass, and supported by a pillar of most
exquisite marble, whereon were inscribed in letters of gold
.the history, acts, and death of our martyr. The parrot had
in its life, been blinded, maimed ; had been hunted from
place to place, with hate and curses following it, and had at
last been trained by a shrew for the truth in a cobler's gar-
!et. But dead, its fame began to live ; and now, it stands
In a palace upon marble, and is sheltered from the smallest
mote by a case of chrystal ! What are the trials of truth,
when we think of its monuments ?"

This is well and aptly written ; but indeed the tale
throughout shows considerable tact, but perhaps it
will not be liked the better for being of such general
application, and coming home to so many bosoms.

TOWN AND COUNTRY MAGAZINE.
Considering its cheapness—the price is only one
shilling—and the amount and variety of matter it con-
tains, this Magazine is entitled to a favourable notice.
The reminiscences of the celebrated "Mile-end Miser,"
John Ismay, who died the other day, leaving a fortune
of God knows how many thousands and thousands of
pounds, though lie commenced life with but one lean
cow, and a sum of money in his pocket amounting to
about half-a-crown—the recollections of this eccentric

skin-flint, are as amusing as they can be, considering
that avarice is the theme. The tales and prose
sketches in this Number are cleverish ; and there is a
good engraving of old Dunmow Church—accompanied
' by a sort of local chronicle, from which it seems that
only a few score married folks have claimed " the flitch
of bacon," for unexceptionable matrimonial behaviour,
since the first institution of this celebrate! re,:;ma for
nuptial immaculateness ! Here is a theme for the
moralist to dissert upon I