The Sun.
London, England, 1840-12-29 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

THE COMIC ALMANACK.
Tilt, London, 1841.
This, we believe, is the third year of this merry,
grotesque production, which still keeps up unimpaired
its reputation for literary and pictorial humour.
George Cruikshank has supplied the plates, and
excellent they are, full of the daintiest conceits,
yet showing a purpose even in their, apparently,
most unmeaning extravagance. We like George
better as a droll fantastical satirist, than when he
attempts the heroic or romantic in design, as he
has lately been doing in his illustrations of " Guy
Fawkes" and the " Tower of London," for he has
not the slightest notion of the dignified or earnest,
and consequently falls into the strangest possible mis-
takes,both as respects symmetry and expression. But
in illustrating wotks like the present, for which little
more is requisite than a certain bold extravagance
of humour, no one succeeds better than Cruikshank.
How rich is his sketch of the " Theatrical Fun-din-
nci," wherein Clowns and Harlequins, Othelios,
Richards, Hamlets, and Machcths, are all repre-
sented as getting drunk together, regardless of their
dramatic dignity, and, what the philosophical Square
would call, " the fitness of things'" The condition
of Hamlet is irresistibly laughable. Ile is past
the power of even hiccupping a soliloquy, and sits
staggering in his chair, looking as sick and senti-
mental as a Cockey on board a steam-boat, when
a stiff west wind is sweeping up the Channel. His '
father's ghos., awfully drunk, lies full length on the
floor before him—a inagnificent specimen of an in-
toxicated apparition ! " St. Valentine's Day" is
aptly represented by a bevy of amorous birds, who
are all billing and cooing in the tenderest man-
ner possible. One long-necked heron, with
a cap and bonnet on her head, listens with mani-
fest delight to the soft nothings whispered in her
ear by a lanky-legged ostrich who is dressed in the
very height of dandyism, and looks not much un-
like some of the tight-laced, whiskered fops whom
we sec on fine spring days strutting up and doss
Regent-street. The " Unlicensed Victuallers'
Dinner" is a smart hit at the annual ovation of
these epicurean folks. Of the various pose and
verse trifles of w Ilia the letter-press is made up,
the most whimsical is a song entitled " Dividend
Day at the Bank."

PATCHWORK.-3 VoLs
Moron, London, 1840.
Captain Basil Hall, the author of these volumes
is one of those amusing, gossipping writers, whose
works are always perused with pleasure by the ge-
nerality of readers, because they never fatigue the
attention, or demand any very severe exercise of
thought. Slight in structure, ready and off-hand
in style, shrewd in observation, but never profound,
they are just the sort of writings to trifle away
an idle hour over. It is as a traveller, however,
that the Captain is most acceptable, for he is as
ardent, as was Jemmy Boswell himself, in his
pursuit of novelty, and grudges neither time nor
trouble in his chase after it. We well remember
his account of his visit to the Loo Choo Islands,
till then unknown to Europeans ; the exceeding
vividness of his descriptions ; his happy sketches
of native character, so fresh and life-like ; his arch
allusions to the formal, long pig-tailed Mandarins,
whom he was introduced to during his stay at one of
the Chinese seaports ; and the interesting particu-
lars which he gave of his interview with Napo.
Icon at St. Helena, with whom he was admitted to
the honour of a long conversation, on his way
home to England. In his present volumes, which,
from their sketchy, desultory nature, arc most ap-
propriately named " Patchwork," the gallant Au-
thor details his reminiscences while lately tra-
velling through many prts of Europe ; and is
specially minute on the subject of Sicily, which
he seems to have explored with some attention.
Among other travellers' freaks he took it into his
head to make the ascent of Mount jEtna, which
Brydone had previously done ; but though his ac-
count of this troublesome ascent is circumstantial
enough, it is wanting in that sparkling grace of
narrative, and graphic liveliness of touch, which we
admired in his earlier and fresher productions. He
writes more like a practised author than one who con-
sults only his own mercurial impulses, and lingers so
long over his task, that at times he becomes almost
wearisome. One incident, however, he mentions,
which is well worth notice. While driving towards
lEtna, he fell in with a party of Sicilian shepherds,
one of whom was playing on the celebrated Doric
reed, so often alluded to by Theocritus—an inte-
resting-fact, which suggests a host of classical recol-
lections, recalling the fabulous times of Pan and
Syrinx, and those primitive shepherds who played
and sang at even-tide to dancing fawns and satyrs,
by the fountain of Arethuse. In his Alpine sketches
Captain Hall contrives to impart something like
novelty to a theme on which we should have ima-
gined nothing new could be said, as will be seen by
this account of a sunset in the immediate vicinity
of Mont Blanc :
The most remarkable change, however, which takes
place in the colour of the snow on the higher ridges of
the Alps atter the sunset has not, I think, been either
poetised, or ever been described in prose,—and as it
was quite new to me, may possibly be so to others.
While the eye is feasting on the rich tints which suc-
ceed to the bright light of day, and wishes they might
last for ever, the rose colour gradually dies away, and
its place is taken by a livid, dead white, resembling so
fearfully that of a corpse, that I felt quite shocked as
well as startled by the change,—nor have I ever met
with any one whose nerves were not more or less dis-
turbed by this painful transition from the blush of health,
as it were, to th aleness of death ! I have seen very
wild deserts in i'cru and elsewhere, and many other
scenes of desolation in the world, but none which has
struck me with so deep a feeling of melancholy, as the
sight of Mont Blanc during the period, fortunately a
brief one, in which this livid hue is spread over it.
Before the shades of night finally settle over all, a very
slight and scarcely perceptible return of the rose-tint
is often visible on the snow, a sort of reanimation
of the scene, which is most cheering and consolatory.

SCIENTIFIC AND LITEICARY TREASURY:

. _ _
Longman, London, 1840.
A work full of the most varied and useful in-
formation, condensed, with considerable tact, by
Mr. Maunder, to whom we are indebted for that
popular volume, the " Treasury of Knowledge."
We cannot doubt, looking to the careful manner in
which it is got up, that this work will be equally
well received by the public.

A CIIIIISTNIAS DAY IN INDIA.—The natives
arc fully sensible of the great importance we attach to the
above festival, and endeavour to show themselves ready to
acknowledge the reverei•ce in which it is held by us. In
the early part of the morning of Christmas Day imposing
bouquets of gay flowers are brought into the dwelling and
placed upon the several tables, whilst the porticos outside
the house are graecfully festooned with floral drapery.
The domestics attire themselves with new vestments on
the occasion, and after breakfast is over present themselves,
one after another, to the Sahib, making their congratula-
tory " salami." Some of thorn go so f.,r as to offer their
" nozzur," or festival gilt, to him. The gardener brings
in his basket of choice fruit, which he has purloined from
your own garden; the butcher with a fat sheep, which, in
collusion with your shepherd, he has managed to thieve
from your own flock ; the poulterer with a magnificent
turkey, which he has obtained in the bazaar in exchange
for half a dozen or more of your beat geese; the " serdar,"
or chamberlain, with a gold ring, which has been made
out of the gold mohura he has from time to time pilfered
from your pockLts. It is customary upon these occasions
for the master to return the compliment by conferring a
pecuniary donation to the above donors, so that the custom,
on principle, amounts simply to this; viz., that the master
" pays blackee" for giving him back what is his own.
COMPLIMENT TO NAPOLEON.—To Captain
Usher, of "the Undaunted," was entrusted the convey-
ance of Napoleon Bonaparte to the Isle of Elba; and no
one could have evinced more consideration and respect for
the fallen Emperor. The following beautiful and classic
compliment was attributed to Sir. Thomas Usher, at the
time. On one occasion, when the sea► appeared somewhat
- a
Lion : " F ear not, Sire," replied the gallant seaman, 6' I
have more confidence than Caesar's pilot."—Knightuye of
Great Britain and Ireland,