The Sun.
London, England, 1846-02-07 00:00:00

MAGA ZINES-(CONTINUE D.)
TUE NEW 1110ATHLY.

The present number of the Kew Monthly is graced
by a paper from the pen of Mr. Harrison Ainsworth,
intitled, " Laman Blancheard and his Writings," white
does equal credit to the head and the heart of the
writer. The character of poor Blanchard, one of the
most gifted, and at the same dine one of the mast kind-
hearted of created being, is admirably drawn. The
man as he was is there depicted, and depicted too after
his own kind heart. It is such a sketch as Blanchard
himself would have written of his friend, had he chanc, d
to be the survivor. Mrs. Butlersontributes some verses,
intitled the " Berkshire (American) Jubilee," and
Charles Ilooten gives us one of his new world, spirit•
stirring nautical ballads, entitled, "Pierre Picard, or the
Sea Famine." This number is rich in American
sketchei, for Captain Lev:nge continues his "Echoes
from the Back Woods," and furnishes us with informa-
tion regarding men and things in America, which is not
only interesting, but worthy of serious attention. We
extract the following description of the garrison of
Eastport, the first United States town beyond the Nova
Scotian frontier, as an example :
" This fort was garrisoned by a company of horse artil-
lery. It was compesed entirely of deserters from our regi-
ments quartered from time to time in New Brunswick. These
being inantry regiments, the men had of course never learned
to ride, and rarely to exercise -great guns. Nevertheless,
they did their duty as flying artillery in the United States.
They wore fancy-coloured waistcoats under sky-bluejackets,
trousers of the same colour, with broad yellow stripes down
them; their boots turned up at. the toes, like skates, the
trousers only reaching half way down their legs.. The whole
was crowned by a frightful leather cap, with a huge brass
letter to denote their company : but it is but fair to remark
that their bar. acks were as clean as an unlimited allowance
of whitewash could make them. We recognised a rascal
who had deserted from St. John's not long before. Ile was
walking about, dragging a Eine-pound shot fastened to his
leg (by which we c..aicluded that he had already got into a
smoking a cigar, and looking as if he did nut care a
(I—n for General .Jackson or any one else. We heard, soon
after we left Eastport, that this company having been or-
dered to Florida, to quell an insurrection of the Seminole
Indians, the most of them deserted on their march to Bos-
ton. They were, however retaken, and sent out. On my
return to New Brunswick, I saw a letter from the last of the
survivors to his brother, recommending him and his com-
rades on no account to desert their colours for the American
service, he being the only one who had escaped the toma-
hawk of the Indians, or the deadly pestilence of the swamps.
" The difficulty, however, of preventing desertions was, in
spit of all warnings, great in New Brunswick. Yankey agents
followed the men, enticed them into crimping•houscs, and
plied them with drink, ar.d when sufficiently intoxicated,
they were put on board fast sailing schooners, which got un-
der weigh whilst they lay in a state of unconsciousness. On
coming to themselves, many might have returned, had they
not been given more rum, and been afraid of the conse-
quences of their first transgression. There was but one in-
stance of a man's returning in the two years we remained iu
New Brunswick.

The rcmainin; articles of this number are for the
greater part continuations.

AINSIVORTIL

Only yesterday we stigmatised the revival of materials
already familiar to magazine readers as the most incor-
rigible fault in that order of periodicals ; to a certain
extent the monthly press is ephemeral in its very na-
ture : it lives only upon the appetite for present novelty
and present amusements ; and hence any repetitions, or
so to speak, any oldnesses, are both presumptuous and
intolerable. Ainsworth, this month, actually comes out
with a reprint of its editor's romance, " Old St. Paul's,"
a work not very long since published in a weekly news-
paper of extensive circulation, and subsequently in an
ordinary three volume edition for circulating libraries.
What interest can, therefore, be expected from its pre-
ient re-appearance we are at a loss to conjecture, es-
pecially as it is the meat mediocre production of
its author. We are particularly anxious to
avoid anything that may be construed as in-
viduous, but wo must decidedly protest against
an instance of such palpable disregard to the intert sts
and entertainment of the subscribers to this hitherto
(and deservedly) popular magazine. Mr. Ainsworth
has ere) shown by his many admirable fictions that
his imagination needs no stimulus, that it is naturally
gifted with extraordinary fecundity and vigour. his
novels have followed each other with rapidity and merit;
and if any one quality of his intellect was more conspi-
cuous than another, it was that of being prolific in in-
vention, plot, character, acid incident. Recet!tly, how-
ever, he appears to have been encompassed with indeci-
sions, and trepidations, and misarrangements of a very
unliterary class. In his "Revelations of London"—
again discontinued—be was evidently plunged into such
a cobweb of dilemmas that he found it difficult to extri-
cate himself with adroitness. But in republishing his
present story of the plague and fire of London,
he has, in our concerion, acted more mistakenly
than ever. Enough, however, upon this point :
e earnestly recommend him to withdraw his
unfortunate revival from his magazine, and no longer
arouse a recollection of " Old St. Paul's;" but this, of
course, in every sense, ex cathedra! Here, as a recom-
pense for our moroseness, we will extract from the pages
of flinswocti a delicate little fantasie; it is daintily
headed

DO YOU REMEMBER THE TALE?
Oh! do you remember how bright was the day,
When far in the wild woods we wander'd away;
The sweet birds were singing en every tall tree,
And thro' the dark olives fair glitter'd the sea?
Ah, do you remember, as on fled the hours,
You cull'd me a garland of freshest wild flOW'rs;
Ala as 'neath the soft shade we sat down to rest,
Each dreaming of what each was loving the best,
Each gazing on what each loved most to:behold—
Ali I do you remember the tale that you told?
Altogether indeed, for February, there is a rich assort,
of poetical fragments; no unwelcome recommendation for
the lovers of day-dreaming in this drizzling and uncon-
scionable season. Edward liencaly proves still further
his accomplishments as a lingual student, by treating us
with a basket of unknown but beautiful flowers, in a
paper entitled "Swedish Anthology :" the strains of music
which he echoes in translation have a character about them
that clings with tenacity to one's memory, haunting and
re-haunting the inner ear. They are tinctured too with
the gleamings of the far north; they breath like the
sound of madrigals among the ice-mountaitri : in them
Frederika Bremer seems to speak to us in rhythm: they
glow, but their glow is frost. Andrew Winter ad-
monishes us that we" Be Trustful"—and his admonition
is couched in such pensive metre that—we listen and
obey. Nor is the finest scholar of German Vries in
England silent—he unhusks from the original of 1 riedeich
Racked five charming miniature jewels, in very fantastic
rhymes. Are they not jewels ? Here is one
I sat upon the shore; and every hue—
The green that on the fields, woods, mountains shone,
The varied tints that sheaves, fruits, blossoms threw,
Had disappear'd before me, one by one.
Merg'd in the billow's green, and heaven's deep blue,
Each separate colour from my sight had gone;
Thus of old woes my heart oblivious grew,
Op'ning for thoughts of endless lore alone.
For these we thank John Oxenford. " Some Passages
in the Private History of my Poodle," by Dudley Cos-
tello, would, if divested of its plentiful larding of
phrases that are somewhat over-idiomatic, smack much
of Elia. We have a faint suspicion that the subject
(by the way, a very facetious one) has been previously
touched upon : however, it will gain its end, by tickling
the mouth-corners of its readers, and is besides:well sprin-
kled with sarcasms. Scott's " Demonology and Witch •
craft" has evidently suggested to Thomas Wright
his " Chapters from the History of Sorcery and
Magic." The introduction displays some knowledge of
that abstruse and enticing lore ; we shall anticipate
several striking disclosures in its continuation. There
is an agreeable bonhommie, though rather an over-plenty
of minuteness, in the " Life and Writings of Nimrod,"
and as Mr. Apperley, with all his cleverness, was merely
the favourite of a class, we consider such profuse corn.
mentaries as misjudged. " Female Delinquency," in
reference to its alleviation by the late excellent Mrs.
Fry—that soul-sister of Howard—affords material for a
sensible and benevolent may, which is worthy a second
perusal ; and, what with the foregoing contributions and
a laughable, chatty, little episode of every-day life, by
Shirley Brooks, telling us "How Mrs. Malmsey Ma-
naged her Uncle," Ainsworth's Magazine forms, on the
whole, a very fair intellectual sugar-plum.

THE PLOUGH.
A better selection of articles could scarcely have been
made ; and, as a second number, the present is emi-
nently successful : it speaks admirably for the discrimi-
nation of its editor. Professor Donaldson gives us a
sketch remarkable for its perspicacity on—that marvel of
nature, that consequence of cultivation—" Rotaria
Cyma ; or the Rotation of Crops." The disquisition
"On the Philosophy of Agriculture" is evidently the
effusion of a thoughtful intellect ; it is divested of all
prejudices in favour of the old-established systems, and
is very learned upon all the latest expositions of the re-
nowned Baron Liebig. Among the most immediately
interesting and valuable of the papers, however, is a
synopsis of Dr. Lyon Playfair's Lectures upon the Po-
tato Disease, the importance and veracity of which may
be almost said to have the sanction of Government.
Prince Albert's Short• horned Ox figures in all the pain-
ful glory of obesity upon the frontispiece, though he
looks as gentlemanly a " blade" as you would well find
upon the " turf." After reading this number we feel
like " Ono who has Whistled at the Plough," and that
with considerable satisfaction to ourselves.

THE LAW REVIEW.
As a quarterly disquisition of British and foreign
jurisprudence, this periodical already fills a prominent
position among its contemporaries. Its earnest but dis-
passionate views, its enlightened and erudite character,
its perfect freedom from bigotry or intolerance of tone,
tog :ther with its many evtdences of experience and re-
search, render it a worthy exponent cf the profession.
"Lord Edon compared with the Judges of his Time" is,
more even than the writer himself imagines, a tooth-
breaking nut for Horace Twiss ; and " The Opening of
Lincoln's Inn Hall" gives an opportunity for a spirited
survey of the present state of the legal profession,
which, apart from the importance of the subject itself,
should be read by every one who admires candour and
boldness. As a whole the present number is sterling.