The Sun.
London, England, 1841-04-02 00:00:00

MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

There is an essay here on the "Relative Value
of the Acted and Unacted Drama," which—as
the production of Mr. Tomlins, who has distin-
guished himself by one or two clever pamphlets
on this subject—is entitled to more attention than
we can just now afford to bestow on it. Enough
to say, therefore, that the essay in question is
characterized by a strain of reasoning always inge-
nious, if not always convincing; and that the style
is neat and perspicuous, except when the writer
attempts to be fine and metaphorical, when he
makes strange work with his tropes, as in the
following instances, when, speaking speaking of
the retraint under which the drama labours, he
says, " but the swelling flood burts its unnatural,
its unscientific barriers, and breaks into illegal
performances, or into the published, but unacted
drama." A " flood" that can break into a " per-
formance" must indeed be a most miraculous
flood! " The Young Artist" is a well written
tale from the pen of Mrs. Edward Thomas.
The interest, however, would have been greater
had it been a little abridged. The "English Wits"
is a biographical and critical notice of Fielding
the novelist, in which the writer, to our surprise,
gives it ai his opinion that " Amelia" is superior
to " Tom Jones." He states also that the latter
work is "not remarkable for any very successful
delineation of character," forgetting, apparently,
the admirable portraits of Squire Western and
his maiden sister, Partridge and Black George,
Square and Thwackem, Master Blifil and the
puppet showman. " Our Monthly Crypt" in-
cludes several intelligent notices of new publica-
tions.

METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE.
The best article in the present Number, both
as respects matter and manner, is the " Note-
Book of an Irish Barrister," in which there is
a memoir of Lord Plunkett, accompanied by a
criticism on his oratorical powers. The writerjustly
observes of his Lordship, that, " when his faculties
were in their meridian, he was unquestionably
one of the most vigorous reasoners of the age, and
herein lay all his mastery. He was not a very
profound or learned lawyer, not at all equal to
Rolnilly, to whom he has been compared, and
inferior to many of the eminent men now at the
bar. In professional acquirements Mr. Pene-
father is far his superior. In mere book-know-
ledge many surpassed him; but in his matchless
argument, in keen, close, rigorous reasoning, he
rose far beyond all others. He was the most for-
midable and skilful of sophists, and unequalled
in that resistless and vehement energy with
which he struggled to the last fbr victory, or,
where that was unattainable, for a dignified
retreat." We fear we must apply the dishearten-
ing words " Troja fuit " to Lord Plunkett's
powers of oratory, for of late years he has made
little or no figure in Parliament. " Recollections
of a Student" are replete with stirring incidents,
the scene of which is laid in Poland during the
despotic reign of the Grand Duke Constantine.
" Sing me the Songs of other Days" is a ballad,
by Mr. Abdy, and reminds us of some of the late
Haynes Bayley's touching melodies. " Zaleska's
Song" is a spirited Polish air; we quote it
accordingly :

Po!and is dead,
The tyrant said,
Exulting in triumph of power ;
0, no ! she but sleeps,
While her genius keeps
A watch for her waking hour.
Silent and fair
She slumbers there,
But feverish dreams disturb her.
She needs but wake
For her chains to break ;
Not the nations of earth can curb her !
She wakes from her rest
At the call she loves best,
Her life's not in mortal control.
Wound her and pain her,
Enthral her, enchain her,
She lives in the heart of the Pole !

THE DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE.
Captain Meadows Taylor, author of the " Con-
fessions of a Thug," and " Tippoo Sultaun," both
works of approved merit, figures this month in
the portrait gallery, which our friend Antony
Poplar is adorning with etchings of distinguished
Irishmen. Captain Meadows is still in the prime
of life, and promises to enrich our literature with
many more of the most correct sketches yet writ-
ten of social lite in India. "Poets and Poetesses"
is a pleasant gossiping article of parlour window
criticism, with extracts from the poetical perpe-
trations of Moyle, Ellison, Sterling., Howitt,
Lady Jervis, Magrath, Browne, Serjeant, and
Lady Flora Hastings. The " Misfortunes of
Barney Branagan" deepen in interest. No
writer of the day can sound the depth of the
Irish heart with more truth and feeling than
William Carleton. The-sick bed scene between
the father and the son in the present number
would convince us of this, had we not already
discovered it in his " Traits and Stories" of the
Irish peasantry. " Charles O'Malley" has a ca-
pital ghost story—such a ghost story as is never
heard out of Ireland. The narrator tells the
story of his father, an undertaker, who, though
the best singer and the hardest drinker in the
barony, looked, when seated on a hearse, " asme-
lancholy and as miserable as if his own mother
was inside." In removing the body of an old
priest to his "last home" he was benighted, and
obliged to seek shelter for himself and the corpse
in an old church, in which, however, he found
means to kindle a good fire, and to-supply the
, " materials" for a jug of punch. We begin our
extract with the second jug, at which point the
worthy undertaker was wont to grow somewhat
sentimental :
" Now there was one thing distressed him most of all ; my
father used always to make fun of the ghosts and sperits the
neighbours would tell of, pretending there was no such thing !
and now the thought came to him, Maybe they'll revenge
themselves on me to-night when they have me up here alone ;
and with that he made another jug stronger than the first, and
tried to remember a few prayers in case of need; but some-
howand his mind was not too clear, and he said afterwards he was
always mixing up ould songs and toasts with the prayers
when he thought he had just got holi of a beautiful psalm, it
would turn out to be Tatter Jack Walsh,' sr 'Limping
James,' or something like that. The storm, meanwhile, was
rising every moment, and parts of the old abbey were falling,
as the wind shook the ruin ; and my father's sperits, notwith-
standing the punch, were lower than ever.
"' I made it too weak,' said he, as he set to work on a new
jorum ; and troth this time that was not the fault of it, for the
first sup nearly choked him.

MORNING EDITION!

"' Ah 1' said he now, I knew what it was; this is like the
I thing ; and, Mr. Free, you are beginning, to feel easy and 00,t
fortable ; pass the jug ; your very good health and song.+l°.
a little hoarse its true, but if the company will excuse--
'
" And then he began knocking- on the table with 10
knuckles, as if there was a room full of people asking him t
sing. in short, my father was drunk as a fiddler; the last
brew finished him, and he began roaring away all kinds °
droll songs, and telling all manner of stories, as if he was at a
great party.
" While he was capering this way about the roost be
knocked down his hat, and with it a pack of cards he put iltr
it before leaving home, for he was mighty fond of a game'
" Will ye take a hand, Mr. Free? said he, as he gatn"--
them up and sat down before a fire.
ee I'm convanient,' said he, and began dealing out as if
there was a partner fornenst him. h be'
" When my father used to get this far in the story,
til-e 601,
came very confused. He says, that once or twice he istise
the liquor, and took a pull at the bottle of poteen instead 0L1."
punch ; and the last thing he remembers was asking P 7;
Father Dwyer if he would draw near to the fire, and not
lying there near the door. 11 fast
"With- that he slipped down on the ground and •e-- whey
asleep. How long he lay that way he could never tell.
he awoke and looked up, his hair nearly stood on end stke
fright. 'What cL) you think he seen fornenst him, sitting at,css
other side of the fire, but Father Dwyer himself ; there be
divil a lie in it, wrapped up in one of the mourning cloaks,
ing to warm his hands at the fire. •
" ' Salve hoc nontine patri !' said my father, crossing bi
self ; 'av it's your ghos, God presarve me '
" Good evening t'ye,t Mr. Free,' said the ghost-= and had
might be bould, what's in the jug ?'—for ye see my father.ieer.
it under his arm fast, and never let it go when he was a;fh r
" Pater noster qui es in— poteen, sir,' said my
for the ghost didn't look pleased at his talking Latin. +hos
" Ye might have the politeness to ax if one had a 11°g--
him,' then, says the ghost.
" ' Sure, I didn't think the like of you would taste sperits•t
si
"'Try me,' said the ghost; and with that he filled on
glass, and tossed it cff like a Christian.

" 6 Beamish l'says the ghost, smacking his lips. a
" ' The same,' says my father, ' and sure what's happen
you has not spoilt your taste.'
66 kid
6 If you'd mix a little hot,' says the ghost, , I'm tiu;n
it would be better ; the night is mighty sevare.'
0
" ' Anything that your reverance pleases,' says my father,
he began to blow up a good fire to boil the water.
" ' And what news is stirring ?' says the ghost. tear
" 'Devil a word, your reverance ; your own funeral was ,o,
only. thing doing last week; times is bad; except the meas•-
there is nothing in our parts.'
.'
" ' And we're quite dead hereabouts too,' says the gh.---ost,h
'6 ' There's some of U 3 so, anyhow,' says my father ,c"
sly look. ' Taste that, your reverance.' gr'
'6 6 Pleasant and refreshing,' says the ghost ; and now' igir
Free, what do you say to a little spoil five, or beggar my ne—
bour ?'
ett
" ' What will we pay for ?' says my father ; for a to, °n--tib
just struck him,—` maybe it's some trick of the devil to es
my soul.'

" ' A pint of Beamish,' says the ghost. lobs
" ' Done,' says my father ; 'cut for deal; the ace a c
you have it.'
of" Now the whole time the ghost. '
of was dealing the ear"
father never took his eyes off of him, for he wasn't quitelo
in his mind at all ; but when he saw hint turn up the tru'ol
and take a strong drink afterwards, he got more at ease,
began the game. bat
" How long they played it was never rightly known;
tioe
one thing is sure, they drank a cruel deal of sperhs,_ ; sod
quart bottles my father brought with him were all finish 'd
by that time his brain was so confused with the liquor, neg t-
he lost,—for somehow he never won a game,—that he Was
ting very quarrelsome.
" You have your own luck of it,' says he, at last.
1 Where
" ' True for you ; and, besides, we play a great dea
I come from.' sit,
" I've heard so,' says my father, ' I lead the knave,
spades ;ba cess o it, lst n.' toe,
Now itd t was reallyo ag
verydistressing; for by this weaS
though they only began for a pint of Beamish, my father as.
on betting till he lost the hearse and all the six horses, Ine
ing cloaks, plumes, and every thing. •
" Are you tired, Mr. Free ? maybe you'd like to WTI
" Stop ! faith it's a nice time to stop ; of course not.
" Well, what will ye play for now ?'
all eve
"' The way he said these words brought a trembling.- or
my father, and his blood curd in his heart. 01,1 fp
ther !' says he to himself, its my sowl he is wanting a'
time.'
" I've mighty little left,' says my father, looking at
keenly, while be kept shuffling the cards quick as lightni.eo: to
• Mighty little ; matter, we'll give you plenty of tonne; 0
pay, and if you can't do it, it shall never trouble you as I°
you live.' st
.0%
" Oh, you murthering devil !' says my father, -)1/000
him with a spade that he had behind his chair,
you out.'
rible
" With one blow he knocked him down; and now a tretrber'S
fight began, for the ghost was very strong too ; but nly,i.altben.
blood was up, and he'd have faced the devil hirnse",„tded
They rolled over each other several times, the broken u„'„,fer
cutting them to pieces, and the chairs and tables crashiogjarth,
them. At last the ghost took the bottle that lay on the 0- tibe
and levelled my father to the ground with one blow 'llO the
fell, and the bottle and the whiskey were both dashed Int isr
fire; that was the end of it, for the ghost disappeared thabe laf
ment in a blue flame that nearly set fire to my father as
on the floor. nth
" Och ! it was a cruel sight to see him next morning' br
his cheek cut open, and his hands all bloody, lying theta the
himself ; all the broken glass, and the cards all round „„
coffin too was knocked down off the chair; maybe the wse
had trouble getting into it. However that was the funerfa the
put off fur a day, for my father couldn't speak ; and, as
sexton, it was a queer thing ; but when they came to e
er
in the morning, he had two black eyes, and a gash ov
ear, and he never knew how he got them." (10
The other articlesare of a political cast, aller
rabidly Tory as suits the palates of Irish Oroltb
men. This Magazine has reached its liundr*b
number, and its excellent delineations of •'-`
life entitle it to our best wishes for its succeS9'

THE SPORTING REVIEW.
This Number is honoured by communicattijel
from two scions of nobility, the Hon. Grail, to.
F. Berkeley, and Lord William Lennox, an
the credit of them and their order, these are iie#
best of the batch. Both describe rural seed
with much tact ; they evidently have mile but
every class of society, not as idle spectators, jog
careful observers, prepared to store up Passpe-
events fbr future occasions. The contrast lip
tween the absentee and the good old &god
gentleman, by Mr. Berkeley, is well drawn,
it is only to be regretted that a mind that the
appreciate the happiness of domestic life, aousol
friendly intercourse between the higher of
lower classes, should display such bitterness ..00
severity towards those who interfere, often flop
want, with his country amusements. Tbel ore
of the various meeting's of the Cottes",,-ore
hounds, and "The Death" (fox hunting)
beautifully executed.

THE SPORTING MAGAZINE. Ser
" A Glance at the Approaching Racingr.aces
son" takes a cursory view of all the grea4.t„;-
from.the Ist of April to the Newmarket au'"110:11;
meetings in October, furnishes an intere6:ficl,
outline of the forthcoming sports for 1841' --ore
as the writer justly observes, "he must be Intbe
nice than wise who is dissatisfied with hoe
prospect.. Not less than 154 nominations 101
been inscribed for the Epsom meeting, ofitrbi
113 are in work, and all qualified for the v-bicli
Stakes. The Liverpool July meeting, tlo,oodr
fair to shine forth brilliantly, and the'bo°',;ie .9;
Races are to surpass even the splendid sc'
and
last season. The instructions for training, dip.
breaking colts display good sense and a kln". the
position, and are calculated to impress 011 erfi-
trainer the necessity of performing every' °PTO
tion with patience, caution, and kindness.„
umber is ornamented with two plates, t•tig!"
hunting in the Deccan" and ,c
The former is by Bateman, and is beau°
executed.

THE SPORTSMAN.
The embellishments by Beckwith, as -deer
are excellent, the first representing the the
stalker. taking refreshment, and the
wild fowl shooter's return. In the Winer bite
dogs are drawn to life, and the well-fed Wory
pony carrying the booty, might excite the by
of Landseer. We recommend " The litirtheit
Judex Secundus" to those who are making, ton
bets on the Derby. The game he saYs,j,ieoce
deep for him, but he asserts with enln—iist•
the the. winner is not yet in the betting
has
" The veil," he adds significantly, " hich
oft;
for so long a period concealed the doings .erg
certain clique, is destined to be removed %re,
shortly, and a very pretty history will !lair
vealed." The verses " Merrily dawns tile -0 ;bag
other
the
ing Sky," by Major C. Campbell, are better,. for
any we have observed in sporting periodic soul
some time, and give a spirited and very beau
description of a summer morning.

This SisMaAvLeLryWirprDov'Sin Mg ApGjoZdil
periodical,
got tlos?
_ with care, and containing just as much varieti v
is desirable in a work of this sort. The P°eittsof
too, generally speaking, is above par, in go°°—,--
which we may instance " Blind Man's ummea
a story of' the carnival of' Madrid, which is Pe°:"ch
in the measure of " Beppo," and exhibits nil 0
of the point, ease, and whimsical vivacity °f that
is
amusing bagatelle. The " Young Subaltellinile
a sprightly prose sketch of one of those juvt ill.
military Narcissuses who
every country town where a regiment is clu-0,...
are to be met wit Par.
tered ; who are the idols of love-sick boardine.
school misses and sentimental maid-servantli
otfi'lle,:o has just
discreet fathers and mothers. "One can Pe" en:
ilannids t ta: ,:isea;esd with distrust and alarm laY: v.
joined.the authori,he,re" ais
syoungnci a sduebiai
el ro rt. 151
his
susing mixture of niaiserie and coxcombry 4
mall:der; such a would-be assumption
cast
man, and such a determination to q,e
the hobbledehoy. How resolutely .he
endeavours to forget •that he has but ren
emerged from a state of pupillage ! %co(
to conceal the enormity of his
sedulously he cultivates a faint appearance
.01_,.15,
embryo moustache and whisker; and enclu_i:so
with the heroism of a martyr, a diurnal pro,°.'„
of scraping on his still smooth and rounded eLI re;
that he calls shaving ! How interesting he ,'OO
to he ! What locks of hair, of all shades ii_r
et„,
flaxen to raven black, are stored up in his pootvd
youth, ~a.
book ! What visions of blue, hazel, greY", ttr
sparkling Mack eyes, float around his pill 0w.,1,.
In the essay on " Philosophy in its Relatior,w,l.,,'e
Christianity" an eloquent account is given . an,
vague and unsatisfying character of the old # :

) N •
s is like the
Lsy and ear
song. , I 113

le with hi:ing hilts
e
r • the last
all' kinds of
he was at 6

e room,. .110
; he put WO
a game,
he gather'.

rig out if 0

tory
he be be-
-17071,-,
stead oasking
f 14—
Pe°r,„
and not

Ind fell fast
te lt
'll Airkeu
n end %A
itting at dle
nere he 'ol,s:
cloaks, Pl.

oising him'

4
anuv 1
r father ha.
-leeP
was a-
I my lath"

li.
i
a niout
II 011

e speritg..
, ,
filled 01P

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'm thinkid

y father, 0

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they

id nosv,fr"
r rny neigb"

g
r a 01°utehlt/
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't tlUite
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it e
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inished,
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he was g

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his ti°
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flog al",

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ightn,nbe to
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-
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the be a ortbe
r . 41,6
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r at he

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by
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