The Sun.
London, England, 1847-04-03 00:00:00

110WIT7"S JOURNAL.

Another number of this hebdomadal and monthly
publication developes yet more the capabilities of
William and Mary Howitt to conduct a journal cal-
culated to aid in the diffusion of literature and the
incitement of popular progress. We are pleased to
observe less of promise and more of fulfilment—
less parade of the names of intended contributors, and
more of actually meritorious contributions. With
the exception, again, of an unfortunate flaw in the
copy of Charpentier's picture of " John Pounds, the
Founder of the Ragged Schools," the engravings are
singularly improved in neatness and finish. The
portrait of George Sand, otherwise Madame Dude-
vant nee Aurore Dupin, and the companion portrait
of the celebrated Swedish nightingale, Jenny Lind,
are admirably executed. The latter is the very beau
ideal of a beautiful and intellectual northern coun-
tenance ; and the miniature biographies of both these
remarkable women are written with singular grace
and liberality. Upon George Sand the writer dilates
even to the extent of a flagrant panegyric. We say
advisedly a flagrant panegyric, for the works of that
fervid and passionate imagination are beyond all
question marred by qualities that render eulogium
upon the score of morality absolutely impossible.
Even the biographist in Howites Journal acknow-
ledges that he is " not prepared to defend every work
or every sentiment published by her." We should
think not, indeed ! And he confesses still further.
He says—" She herself has expressed a wish that
some of even her
i most brilliant writings were un-
written." That s significant ! In another portion
of the memoir the panegyrist observes of George
Sand—" She never makes vice beautiful"—(we ques-
tion that)—" she never rewards crime"—(what then ?
Lewis decidedly does not reward crime in his in-
famous work " The Monk," and yet, we opine, " The
Monk" is immoral: the hero of "Falkland" is de-
cidedly not rewarded, and yet "Falkland," we opine,
is immoral : Don Giovanni is carried, in the end, to
hell, and yet, we opine, that the story of "Don
Giovanni" is immoral !)—" she never strews roses
over corruption"—(adroitly put, that; but, word it
differently, and we are nearer the truth—she pulls
the roses asunder, and we catch glimpses of corrup-
tion underneath !) No ; George Sand has been tra-
duced as wholly and entirely a demoralising novelist
—which she is not. But the biographer in Houltts
Journal goes to the opposite extreme, and praises as
immaculate an intellect, that is miserably tarnished.
With a multitude of excellent contributions, which
it is impossible just now even to enumerate, the
Journal makes au admirable melange for April.

THE TRAVELLER'S MISCELLANY.
We commented last month upon the first appear-
ance of this little magazine of entertainment for
travellers ; and especially noticed the appropriate-
ness of its size, the neatness and compactness of its
arrangement, and its singular combination of cheap.
ness and utility. The second number is an improve-
ment in every way upon its predecessor; for,
while the paper and typography are much superior,
the information is at once more copious and more
condensed. To the millions who travel by railroad,
coach, and steam-boat, the various tables of time,
distances, fares, situations, and the peculiarities of
the most conspicuous places in England and its de-
pendencies, will be invaluable.

THE KNIGHT OF GW YNNE. No. XVL
By Charles Lever.
Mr. Paul Dempsey again assumes a prominent
position in the narrative, and is the means of intro-
ducing Lady Eleanor and Helen Darcy, and conse-
quently the reader too, into some outrageous scenes
at Mother Fum's. The Panther herself comes out in
extraordinary style, in a yellow satin spotted with
red, and becomes most endearing in her attentions to
Mr. Dempsey. After a " shilaloo" among the board-
ers, and a general " skrimmage," described by Lever
in his most rollicking vein, the wife and daughter of
the ruined Knight take a hurried departure from
the " establishment." The closing chapter of the
number is little to our liking, presenting a most re-
pulsive picture of infirm and doting villany in the
person of old Doctor Hickman. Lady Eleanor has
just entered the chamber of the sick man, when the
instalment for April terminates. The story is mar-
vellously uninteresting without Bagenal Daly or
Maurice Darcy.