The Sun.
London, England, 1863-11-28 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

Winter Weavings. Poems. By Isabella Law. One
vol., pp. 179. Smith, Elder, and Co.
It will be remembered, possibly, by some of our
readers that we had occasion not long since to com-
ment very favourably upon the contents of the
charming little volume of verse, the title of which we
have just now repeated above. " Winter Weavings"
—as especially remarked by U 8 at the time in our
criticism upon the book, appeared before the public
as the work of an unknown authoress, who inscribed
her maiden performance to one who, though young,
has already achieved for herself a high and widely..
extended reputation. The dedication of " Winter
Weavings"
graced to Miss
one Procter,
Adelaide Anne
Procter,very first pages
tof the little volume. Not so certain "Prefatory"
rae
of h e
to
verses which should have appeared then and
there, also, bat were, for some accidental reason,
omitted from the publication. Those Prefatory verses
have since then, however—only this very morning
in fact—been forwarded to us by the publishers.
They are from the veteran hand of the famous
father of the poetess to whom Miss Law's " Winter
Weavings" are inscribed. As one of the latest effu-
sions of Barry Cornwall they have their claim upon
our attention; bat they have a twofold interest for
us all, as will be recognised, instantly, upon their
perusal—by reason of the pathetic circumstance to
which they relate. What that circumstance really
is we will, however, let Barry Cornwall himself
reveal, as follows :

PREFATORY.
Learn, Reader—that this task was done,
This broidery wrought, this garland won,
Beyond the regions of the Sun.
A little Maiden brings her store
Of lalossoms, bright end running o'er
With sweetness—pansies, violets, pinks,
And vestal roses, from the brinks
Of Darkness ;--Ay, from out the gloom,
With all their clear unsullied bloom,
Their reverential grave perfume,
The true heart nourished buds are brought,
Laden with serenest thought.

Alas !—The Inner Light of Truth
Alone has dawned urou her youth—
The young and gentle authoress,
Whom all the loving Muses bless.
Never hath this poet "Seen
The first fresh vivid vernal green,
The wealthy August's crown of corn,
Or Plenty with her wreathed horn.

Hereafter—when our steps shall climb
Past the shadowy bounds of Time,
Where neither Day nor cloudy Night
Shall make or mar our clearer sight,
When Verso and Prow, and, Scorn and Fame
Shall all be (if they be) the same—
Thsn these small blossoms from the Dark
May somewhere leave their dewy mark,
Starred by a saddening lustre brief,
Like tears upon the rose's leaf.
After reading which most touchingly and tenderly
graceful revelation of the blindness of the young
songster whose sillicted hands have achieved thus
in Darkness these " Winter Weavings," who will
not turn with troubled interest to listen to the
utterance of the gentle young voice that comes to us
out of that Darkness ?

George Stanley ; or Life in the TVoods. A Boy's
Narrative of the Adventures of a Settler's Family
in Canada. Edited by C. Geikie. With

trations. One Vol. Pp. 408. Routledge.
This is a very delightful and very instructive
book for boys. It renders them familiar, in an easy
and pleasant way, with the various vicissitudes of
the back-woodsman's life, and with the different pe-
culiarities of those far-off regions. George Stanley,
the suppcsed narrator of the history, with his four
brothers and his three sisters, leaves England, at the
commencement of the story, and settles down in an
impromptu farm in the woods of Canada. We fol-
low the fortunes of the youthful emigrants in all
their difficulties of land-clearing, log-building, &c.
Various mishaps befall them, but these are encoun-
tered with true British courage, and overcome by
steady perseverance. A great deal of incidental
information about the animal and vegetable world,
the flight of birds, and the growth of plants, &c.,
is pleasantly and ingeniously intermingled with the
narrative. Among the illustrations is a capital
sketch of" Our Home in the Woods," a glimpse of
" Fish Spearing by Torchlight," "Indian Duck
Shooting," together with a great variety of other
very clever embellishments.

The Nature and Treatment of Gout and Rheumatic
Gout. By Alfred B. Garrod, M.D. Walton and

Maberly.

Thiseminently practical work ought to be read by
all wh o
interest in the subject of gout, as
takea
n y
it contains much original matter, meriting attentive
consideration, while it is unquestionably philo-
sophical in its conclusions. Considering the number
of works already existing upon this distressing
malady, some may be inclined to think that the
subject must have been entirely exhausted by pre-
vious authors. Dr..Garrod proves, however, that
this is by no means the case, and both in respect to
the nature and treatment of the disease in question,
supplies the reader with much valuable information.
In his exposition of the causes of gent, he is pecu-
liarly happy. By a series of chemical researches
and a careful investigation of the changes that take
place in the affected parts, he arrives at the conclu-
sion that an excess of lithic acid in the blood, and
its deposition in the tissues, are the true causes of
an attack of gout. He proves to demonstration the
fact that gout and rheumatism are totally distinct
diseases, both in their nature and in the manner in
which they are influenced by medicines. In the
treatment of chronic gout, Dr. Garrod introduces
a new remedy in the various preparations of lithia,
which he has employed in many obstinate cases
with much success. There is an interesting
chapter on the use of mineral waters in some forms
of the affection, and much attention is bestowed on
the nature and treatment of that intractable disease
commonly known as rheumatic gout. The book
is illustrated with several coloured lithographs and
numerous wood engravings, and is likely to be for
many years the standard work upon the subject
of gout.

REFINEMENT is not quick to impute evil, says
ono of the plain-speaking Saturday Reviewers;
it interprets what it sees on the principles of charity. A
man is not more refined than another for suspecting the
loaf ho eats because human hands have kneaded it, and
assuming, therefore, that the kneader was a dirty fellow.
In truth, refinement, being clean itself, supposes that others
are clean also, until forcibly undeceived—indeed, resolutely
prefers to trust, rather than have the imagination polluted
by the repulsive details of over-curious investigators, and
would sooner swallow one spider, whether moral or phy-
sical, in ignorance, then have the gorge perpetually rising
at possible spiders. _ _

AUBER AND MEYERBEER are amongst the Em-
peror's guests at Compeigue.