The Sun.
London, England, 1831-02-01 00:00:00

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

We cannot say much for the present number;
its chief defect is its tame mediocrity of talent.
The articles are readable, but neither above nor

below common-place. The highly finished en-
graving of Mrs,. Norton will, however, in a great,
measure redeem it. " The Ballot" is a plain
sensible discussion of the advantages and dis-
advantages
of this mode of election ; judgment
is given in its favour. " My Sinecure Place"
is a somewhat insipid poem of the Haynes
Bayley School ; luckily it is short. " Vicissi-
tudes in a Lawyer's Life" is flat, but the sub-
ject itself is against it. " Legacy of a Late
Poet" is a beautiful collection of small poems, by
some one who has much of the genuine poetic
spirit in his composition. " Three Days of
December in Paris" have little but their title,
and even this is now trite and hacknied, to re-
commend them. " The Sisters" is a sweet
poem, in Mrs. Hemans' sweetest manner.
" After Dinner Chat" is very so-so. But
Homer sometimes sleeps, aliquendo bonus
dormitat Homerus, and so may Mr. Poole ;
we hope, however, his nap will be a short one,
and that he will ere long wake up and give us
another sprightly catalogue of the " Incon-
veniences of a Convenient Distance," or the
" Miseries of Packing One's Portmanteau" by
an expiring rush-light on a freezing winter's
morning. " Sketches of the English Bar—
Mr. Sugden," is faithful so far as resemblance
goes, and will be read with interest by the few
who care one sixpence about the merits or de-
merits of the Ex-Solicitor-General. " On the
Principles of Property'' is an able essay, in
which there is much quickness and vigour of
thought. " Byron's Last Biographer" is the
very essence of critical and splenetic common-
place. " The Adventure on the Mer de Glace"
is well written, and told in parts with considerable
energy. Here is a sample :
. _

" We continued our course in a sad plight, our minds
absorbed in the dangers it was evident we should have to
encounter. 'We crossed another chasm over a similar
stone, and when down, we found ourselves upon a large
berg, cut off from all communication with the lest, except
in one place, and that by a passage so perilous that it
seemed hopeless to attempt it. It was a narrow wasted
ridge of ice, like a wall, the upper edge worn so thin by
the actio❑ of the elements as to be but little thicker than
a horse's backbone, though it got broader downwards ;
it might be twenty feet across. This my companion de-
clared it was impossible to cross, and we eat down in
mute despair.
" Here we were, cut off from all hope of assistance,
far beyond the sight and hearing of human beings. I
hallooed, but I felt at the same time how hopelessly.
" In such a situation, how many thoughts crowd on
the mind. I thought of home, and of the few still left,
who might make a ❑ine-days' wonder of us whilst sitting
round a bright fire, should the news ever reach them ;
but even that was scarcely probable :—we might be seen,
perhaps, but not ❑live, as we could never have survived
the night ;—ani what a death to die! by cold and
hunger, in regions of ice and snow ! After sitting some
time, and taking a gloomy glance around, my companion
resolved to try the desperate alternative: he said, truly
enough, to remain where we were was certain destruc-
tion, and we could but attempt to pass over, eve❑ though
the failure would accelerate our otherwise inevitable fate.
No time was to be lost, and we prepared to cross the
ridge, narrow as the bridge which leadeth to the Maho-
metan paradise, and almost as hopeless to attempt.
" My companion took the lead. The end of the ridge
next us was somewhat lower than the block of ice we
were on, and sunk down in the middle with a slight
curve—and at the other end it rose about four feet. My
friend sat down with his legs hanging ever the yawning
abyss, and lowering himself upon the ridge, placed his
hands before him, drew his body along, precisely as you
may have seen boys draw themselves along a scaffold-pole
laid horizontally : we had the advantage, however, of
steadying ourselves by pressing our legs against the ice.
Having in this manner got nearly over, and to where it
began to rise, the greatest caution was necessary in rising
on his feet, in order to draw himself up upon the block of
solid ice.

" I watched his progress with intense anxiety, and
then it was my turn to follow. My heart sunk within
me—my companion stood on the other side and encou-
raged me. I threw my pole over to him, and then sat
down ou the edge of this awful chasm. My sensations
were horrible indeed ; nothing short of absolute despair
would have tempted me to undertake it. However,
I stretched my less over this icy saddle : the pelting rain
was running off in numberless rills ; the rough, uneven,
jagged edge struck a chill upon my very heart; my
clothes were stiff and frozen on me ; my hands and feet
benumbed with cold ; almost shoeless, and the skin torn
off my fingers by the rough ice and small stones scattered
over the glacier. I moved slowly and steadily onwards ;
I looked down on either side of the yawning gulf below
me—l felt the necessity of collecting all my energies--it
was the calmn►ss of despair. I uttered no sound; poised
as I was, the slightest swerve either way and I should lose
'my balance, and then all would be over. I drew myself
along, and steadied myself by pressing my legs against
the glassy ice ; and then, when almost over, I had to raise
myself upon my feet to mount the solid block—the most
nervous of all. I gathered one foot up, and by the help
of the pole which my companion extended to me slowly
rose and stood upon the narrow, slippery edge, and gained
the block in safety."

The " Monthly Commentary" is a feeble

imitation of the very spirited and sarcastic
64 Notes of the Month," in " Whittaker's
Monthly Magazine." It wants lightness,
vivacity, and variety. We have already alluded
to the portrait of Mrs. Norton, the authoress of
the " Sorrows of Rosalie." It is indeed an ex-
quisite engraving,