The Sun.
London, England, 1838-08-01 00:00:00

TAIT'S EDIIVBURGH MAGAZINE.

Those who are all anxiety—and their name is
Legion—to obtain a knowledge of the main purport of
the original historical introduction to the speeches of
Lord Brougham, now announced for publication, will
find much to gratify their curiosity in the' first article
in Tait's Magazine for this month. One of those
cunning:familiars that perpetually hover about the pre-
cincts of a printing-office—yclept Printer's Devils—
must have favoured our friend Tait with early proof-
sheets of this work ; for on looking over the other
publications of the month, we find only expressions of
regret for its non-appearance---the Mon/lily Chronicle
only excepted. Our northern Contemporary is not una-
ware of the triumph he has achieved in being the first to
unseal the new fountain of living waters to the public.
He assures us that " Since the anticipated appearance
of a new Waverley Novel, in the pristine and palmy
days of the Waverley Novels, there has been nothing
known in these northern regions to equal the buzz and
flutter of expectation, which have hatbingered the ap-
pearance of the collected speeches of Lord Brougham."
After assigning these effects their proper causes he
thus continues—" In the meanwhile, however, and in
the first blush of the business, there is more curiosity
about the pithy adjuncts to these splendid effusions of
intellectual power, experienced wisdom, and unrivalled
oratorical accomplishment than about their essential
substance. Happy and proud is the man who has had
a glimpse of a proof-sheet, or heard a passage dis-
torted at second hand, or ever seen the favoured
mortal who has viewed these oracles, or divined
aright one sentence of their pungent contents.
For it is not at this early stage the speeches alone
for which the public appetite is whetted :—those
powerful and impulsive specimens of the highest kind
of modern eloquence remain for the study of leisure—
for the delight and the admiration of posterity. The
world is athirst to know what Lord Brougham has to
say of his Contemporaries, his political opponents, and
his late colleagues in office ; what of the prospects of
the nation under the inauspicious rule of the Whig-
Tory Ministry ; what of the predicament in which he
has been placed by their intrigues and circumvention ;
by their apprehension of his bold fearlessness so
often proved Court-ward ; and, above all, of his
power with the people." We need scarcely intimate
that a writer who could so well appreciate the public
feeling abroad, and having ample means at his dis-
posal, was not likely to fail in affording it the richest
gratification. What the ‘.-world is athirst" to know
of Lord Brougham's op'.nions of the men and mea-
sures of to-day, is profusely, but with a right judicious
liberality supplied by our Radical Contemporary.
" Sismondi's Studies of Free Constitutions" is a clever
sketch by an intelligent clear-headed Radical, who is
evidently capable of giving good reasons for the faith
that is in him. All who take an interest in the pro-
gress of education among the working classes will be
delighted with the spirit and tendency of the article on
" Mechanics' Institutions." Were the plan of self-in-
struction and subsequent distinction, which it suggests
adopted, it would not be long before the base of the
social edifice would present an appearance as beautiful
as it is now unsightly. The " Chronicle" of the Pa-
triot Martyr points a moral of which the people have
never yet comprehended the full force—namely, that
their disunion forms the iron sceptre of despotism.
The reviews of the " Woman of the World," and
" Howitt's Colonization and Christianity," arc like all
those admirable summaries of new books that appear
io Tait—unrivalled as judicious epitomes of these
widely different, but in their respective depaaments,
very clever productions. The verses are indifferent,
and the monthly notices too scanty ; but upon the
whole the present number is a decidedly good one.

SHERWOOD'S MONTHLY MISCELLANY.
There is a poem in this Number headed the
" Stranger," which contains many good thoughts and
poetic images, but is not less than twenty-two pages
in length, which is about as long as the third canto of
" Childe Harold." Surely this is giving us too much
of a good thing I A feast is well enough, but a sur-
feit is not to be endured. In consequence of its inor-
dinate length, we have been utterly unable to go
through this poem, and many of our readers, we doubt
not, will find themselves in the same predicament. The
" Fatal Affection" is a tale of the first French Revo-
lution, and exhibits no slight talents for story-telling.
Publishing and Authorship" comments in very just
terms on some of the puffing practices had recourse to
by booksellers to get rid of their " last new novel."
This practice is evidently wearing itself out—in fact,
it is all but in articulo mortis, and we arc not sorry
for it, for it is the ruin of all healthy literature. " Notes
and Gleanings" are full of agreeable anecdotes and
curious facts, stated in a light, pleasant, off-hand
manner. Altogether, the Number is a very cre-
ditable one.

THE ASIATIC JOURNAL.
Allen and Co.

The Review of " Easter►: News" for the last month
is so brief as to be of no utility whatever. This is
very absurd, after the pains taken by the public Press
to impress upon the Editor the great importance of
devoting more than ordinary care to a novel, hut very
necessary, department in a monthly periodical, devoted
to the discussion of questions, and the recording of
events, connected with the East. The best articles in
this Number—and notwithstanding what we have
just said, it has more than the average merit—are "The
Elfin Fox," a tale from the Chinese, " Hyderabad,"
" \\Tars between Burtnah and China," and some ex-
cellent remaiks on the " Education of the Natives of
India." The publication of the " Penal Code of
British India" is continued, accompanied with a very
sensible commentary in the shape of notes upon each
chapter.

METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE.
Saunders and °thy.
The " Loaded Dice," by the O'Hara Family, is
concluded in this Number. Though not wanting in
interest, we cannot speak so highly of it, as we are
justly in the habit of doing when noticing Mr.
M Banim'sMagazine Tales. It is wanting in the two
qualities for which the author of the O'Hara Family
is most distinguished—power and pathos. We premuch
better satisfied with the character of the late Chief Baron
Joy, as we find it drawn in the '- Note-Bojk of an
Irish Barrister," though very far from a flattering
portrait of that too-eminent judge. The " Courtier
of the Reign of Chalks II." is a tale by Mrs. Gore,
which from a slight glance over we are inclined to pro-
nounce among the best in these pages. The Pastor
of Grindelword" is a simple and touching sketch of
the family afflictions of one of those pious Ministers of
the Gospel with which the untravelled delight to peo-
ple the romantic vales of Switzerland. " Venice and
its Dependencies" is not near so interesting as such an
article might be made, though still a paper of consi-
derable historical research, The " Twin Sisters," by

Mrs. Abdy, is very pretty, and very plaintive. Taken
all in all, the Number does credit to the discriminating
abilities of the Editor, as well as to the talents of the
various contributors.

THE DUBLIN MAGAZINE.
Holdsworth.
" Rubi, a Tale of the Sea," is concluded in this
Number. Its interest was powerfully .siiiiained from
the commencement ; and the last cans but con-
firmed the impression made upon 41444fid by the
perusal of the first—namely, that the author is a true
poet. The " Drunkard's Dream" is too laboured to
suit our taste. There is a certain stern simplicity
—an absence of all circumlocution and wordiness of de-
taU, which is essential to the proper narration
of domestic tragedy. The " Student of Leipsic" is a
better told tale, but it wants incident. Most of the
other articles are written in a sectarian spirit, and for
the most part relate to questions fitter for discussion in
a Convocation of Churchmen than in the columns of
a Newspaper. The only exception is the " Antho-
logia Germanica," from which we copy the following
outpouring of a spirit truly German :
Were Hope all my eye,
'Tis a fact I should die,
Her light is much brighter than ten tallow-candles ;
When crotchets and cares are consuming
Some fanciful spooney, she takes him
Where cowslips and daisies are blooming,
And never entirely forsakes him
Till Death lays him down in the box without handles.
Handles, handles,
The box without handles,
Till Death shuts him up in his box without handles.

Were Friendship a hum,
I could weep o'er my rum,
For I hate to be mixing companionless tumblers.
Even moles, quoth Buffo)), are gregarious,
And cats, when they turn caterwaulers ;
moi, I like various contrarious
Assemblies—both puncbdrinking bawlers
And sighers of sighs—both your grinners and grumblers.
Grumblers, grumblers,
Your grinners and grumblers,
I have grins for your grinners and growls for your grumblers.
Were Love all a hoax,
So that no one could coax
A rich widow to wed, what could well be forlorner ?
To be wheedling some innocent charmer,
Who reckons her thousands by thirties,
And hasn't the heart to wear armour
Against Cupid's arrows, is, certes,
Far better than moping alone in a corner.
Corner, corner,
Alone in a corner,
More pleasant than kicking your heels in a corner.
Were Music a bam,
I might chatter and cram,
But a seal world be clapped on my Fountains of Feeling.
Oh ! nothing melts bosoms at all like
The exquisite tones of a fiddle!
I hop round the room at a ball like
A hen on a scorching hot griddle!!
Good lack ! I could bound from the floor to the ceiling.
Ceiling, ceiling,
The floor to the ceiling,
Next night, faith, I'll bob my big head through the ceiling.
Were Wine all a quiz,
I should wear a long phiz
As I mounted each night to my ninth-story gai ret.
Though Friendship, the traitress, deceives me,
Though Hope may have long ceased to flatter,
Though Music, sweet infidel, leaves me,
Though Love is my torment—what matter ?
I've still such a thing as a rummer of claret.
Claret, claret.
A rummer of claret,
I laugh and grow fat on my buttermilk caret.

THE MONTHLY MA GA ZINE.
Sherwood and Co.
"Alfred de Rosann ; or, The Adventures of a
French Gentleman," is continued with great spirit
this month. The author is Mr. Reynold's, whose
Pickwick Abroad" was generally allowed to exhibit
a fair portrait of the manners of the middling and lower
classts in Paris. " Russian Literature since 1815"
is concluded in this number, and from the manner in
which the author has executed his task—a very diffi-
cult one it must be allowed—we only regret that
he did not extend his labours far beyond what he has
at: empted to do in these essays. His concluding
observations are as just as they are well conceived.
Besides the first article, Mr. Reynolds has contributed
one " On the Modern French School cf Literature,"
in which the literary pretensions of Frederic Soulie, a
novelist all but unknown in this country, are canvassed
in a spirit of liberal—we had almost said laudatory
criticism. The admirers of Magazine embellishments
will be gratified to learn that, in addition to the
usual quantity of letter-press, this Number contains
two of Crowquill's most spirited engravings.