The Sun.
London, England, 1836-08-16 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

PETER PARLEY'S TALES ABOUT GREAT
BRITAIN AND IRELAND.
Tegg, London, 1836.

This is one of the most delightful little child's
books that has been published since Mrs. Priscilla
Wakefield's " Juvenile Travellers." The style is
easy, flowing, and every where happily adapted to the
youthful capacity ; and the knowledge, which is
gathered from a variety of sources, interspersed with
tale and anecdote, so as to rivet the attention of the
reader. Peter is a capital instructor, for he has nothing
prolix, nothing pedantic about him ; he does not parade
his information, or assume airs of superiority on the
strength of it, but prattles away with his young pupils,
just as if he were one of them. His details of the won-
ders of nature and art, to be found in England, Scotland,
and Ireland, of the romantic scenery of the Highlands
and the Welch mountains, of the manufacturing dis-
tricts of the north, of the principal towns in the king-
dom, and more especially of the metropolis, with its
spacious parks and noble public buildings, are told in
the liveliest and most exciting manner. Nor is this
slight praise, for there are few things more difficult to
write, even in this literary age, than an interesting
child's book. To succeed in a task like this, is to
snored where nine out of ten fail. If we mistake not,
Peter Parley's piquant, unassuming volumes will soon
drive all their predecessors out of the field. By the
bye, we see that he has published Tales about the
Sea, and Natural History—how is it that he has not
yet sent us a copy of these ? We should not omit to
add that the present volume is embellished with a
variety of wood-cuts, executed in a very superior style.

SCOTTS' PROSE WORKS, Vol. 28.
Cadell, Edinburgh, 1836.
This volume which concludes the well-known series
of "Tales of a Grandfather," concludes also Sir W.
Scott's prose works. It is illustrated with two en-
gravings from designs furnished by Turner, and pos-
sesses the recommendation of a copious index.

RATTLIN THE REEFER. In 3 Vols.
London, Bentley, 1836.
This is an excellent novel. Like all Captain Mar-
ryatt's tales, the interest is sustained throughout by a
series of striking incidents arising- out of, and linked
as naturally to each other as cause and effect. We
, know of no writer who throws such a mass of worldly
knowledge into works of this description as Captain
Marryat. He does not write for the nursery, but for
the world. Without affecting the dogmatical tone of
a moralist, or the whining cant of the conventicle, he
loses no opportunity of inculcating good principles by
the best of all methods—that of carefully distinguish-
ing their influence upon the lives and fortunes of his
heroes and heroines. All the principle characters in
" Rattlin the Reefer" are drawn with the bold hand
of a master. Joe Brandon, Old Ford, Dr. Roots,
and Captain Rend, are so many portraits taken
from life. There can be no mistaking them for
mere creations of the fancy. The mystery which
hangs over the hero's birth is very properly
made the cause of all his subsequent sufferings ;
and the way in which the veil is removed at last, is as
natural as it is interesting. We will not attempt to
give an outline of a tale which will soon find its way
to the shelves of every circulating library in the
kingdom. Besides such an attempt is unnecessary, as
a great part of the work has already appeared in the
Metropolitan Magazine conducted, we believe, by the
gallant author himself. We shall, however, make an
extract or two for the satisfaction of those who are not
in the habit of seeing the Metropolitan. Many a
parent may find food for deep reflection in the following
record of school-boy impressions :
" But I will no longer dwell upon the portraiture of that
saddest of all created things, the despised of many. I was
taught the hard -lesson of looking upon cruelty as my daily
bread, tears as my daily drink, and scorn as my natural por-
tion. Had not my heart hardened, it must have broken.
But, before I leave what I call the desponding epoch of my
schoolboy-days, I must not omit to mention a species of im-
pious barbarity, that had well nigh alienated my heart for ever
from religion, and which made me, for the time, detest the
very name of church. Christianity is most eminently a reli-
gion of kindness ; and, through the paths of holy love only,
should the young heart be conducted to the throne of grace,
for we have it from the highest authority, that the worship of
little children is an acceptable offering, and may well mingle
with the sweetest symphonies that ascend from the lips of se-
raphs to the footstool of the Everlasting. Our God is not a
God of terrors, and when he is so represented, or is made so
by any flint-hearted pedagogue to the infant pupil, that man
has to answer for the almost unpardonable sin of perilling
a soul. Let parents and guardians look to it. Let them
mark well the unwilling files that are paraded by boarding-
school keepers, into the adjacent church or chapel, bringing a
mercenary puff up to the very horns of the altar, and let
them then inquire how many are flogged, or beaten, or other-
wise evil-entreated, because they have flagged in an attention
impossible in the days of childhood, and have not remembered
a text perhaps indistinctly or inaudibly given : let those pa-
rents and guardians, I say, inquire, and if but one poor youth
has so suffered, let them be fully assured, that that master,
whatever may be his diligence, whatever may be his attain-
ments, however high his worldly character may stand, is not
fit to be the modeller of the youthful mind, and only wants
the opportunity to betray that bigotry which would gladly
burn his dissenting neighbour at the stake, or lash a faith,
with exquisite tortures, into the children of those whom, in his
saintly pride, he may call heretical."
The following extract is by no means the best we
could select, but it is the most suited to the space at
our immediate disposal. It is rather highly coloured—
a fault very rarely to be met with in any of Captain
Marryat's Novels ;
" On the Surrey side of the hill, for its apex separated it
from another county, the descent was more precipitous--so
much so, that it is now wholly disused as a road for carriages ;
and not only was it precipitous, but excessively contorted, the
bends sometimes running at right angles with each other.
High banks, clothed with impervious hedges, and shadowed by
tall trees, made the road both dank and dark% and, at the time
that I was passing, or, rather, turning round one of the elbows
of this descent, a sturdy fellow, with a heavy cudgel, followed
at some distance by a much smaller man, accosted me in a
rude tone of voice, by bawling out—
" I say, you sir, what's o'clock ?'
Go about your business, and let me pass.'
Take that for your civility f—and, with a severe blow
with his-stick, he laid me prostrate. I was not stunned, but
felt very sick, and altogether incapable of rising. In this
state, I determined to feign stupefaction, so I nearly closed my
eyes, and lay perfectly still. The huge vagabond then placed
his knee upon my chest, and called out to his companion—
" I say, Mister, come and see if this here chap's the right

un.'

" The person called to came up ' • and, immediately after,
through my eyelashes, I beheld the diabolical white face of
Daunton. It was so dark, that, to recognize me, he was
obliged to place his countenance so close to mine, that his hot
breath burned against my check. He was in a passion of ter-
ror, and trembled as if in an access of ague.
" It is,' said he, whilst his teeth chattered. Is he stunned ?'
" Mister, now I take that as an insult. D'ye think that
John Gowles need strike such a strip of a thing as that ere
twice?'
" ' Hush I—how very, very cold it is 1 Where is your
knife ? Will you do it?'
" Most sartainly not. There—he's at your mercy—l never
committed murder yet—no, no, must think of my precious
soul. A bargain's a bargain—my part on't is done.'
" Gowles, don't talk so loud. I can't bear the sight of
blood—and, oh God I—of this blood—it would spirt upon my
hand. Strike him again over the head—he breathes heavily_
strike him 1'
No,' said the confederate, sullenly.
neither art nor part in this ere murder.'
" During this very interesting conference, I was rallying al.
my energies for one desperate effort, intending, however, to
wait for the uplifted knife, to grasp it, in order that I might
turn the weapon against the breast of one assassin, and then
use it as a defence against the other.
" Would to God,' said the villain, adding blasphemy to
concerted murder—' would to God that my hand was spared
this task 1 Give me the knife now. Where shall I strike
him ?—.I have no strength to drive it into him far.'
" Tell ye, Mister, u'll have nought to do with the murder—
but u'd advise thee to bare his neck, and thrust in the point
just under his right ear.'
" Hush I Will it bleed much ?'
" D—ly 1'
" ' Horrible I—horrible 1 Do you think the story about Cain
and Abel is true ?'
" As God is in heaven !'
" Then, my brother's blood will turn everything to scarlet
as long as I live. Can't it be done without blood ?'
I'll have nothing to do with the murder. But, Mister,
if so be as you are so craven-hearted, take your small popper,
and send a ball right into his heart. It is a gentleman's death,
and will make the prettiest small hole imaginable, and bleed
none to signify. But, mind ye, this ere murder's all your own.'
" At this critieal moment, as I was inhaling a strong breath,
in order to invigorate my frame for instant exertion, I heard
two or three voices in the distance carolling out, in a sort of
disjointed chorus—
' Many droll sights I've seen,
But I wish the wars were over.'
" Now or never,' said Joshua, producing and cocking his
pistol. I leaped up on my legs in an instant, and, seizing the
weapon, which was a small tool, manufactured for a gentle.
man's pocket, by the barrel with my left hand, and this amiable
specimen of fraternity by the right, the struggle of an instant
ensued. The muzzle of the pistol was close against my breast
when my adversary discharged it. I felt the sharp hard knock

' Tell ye—u'll have