The Sun.
London, England, 1846-07-03 00:00:00

DOLMAN'S MAGAZINE.

Neither in variety nor literary merit is the July
number of Dolman deficient : the magazine proceeds
prosperously under its present editorship, and may now
be looked upon as permanently established. As the
professed organ of the Roman Catholic body, its pages
will be resorted to with peculiar interest at this moment,
in consequence of the recent demise of Pope Gregory
XVI., an occurrence of religious importance to the
spiritual children of the Papacy, and of some political
importance to the people of Europe generally. A brief
allusion to the death of the Sovereign Pontiff, in an
article by the editor, will more than satisfy curiosity on
this point, as it is written in a strain of earnest simplicity.
The memory of Gregory XVI. appears to be regarded
with affection by the Catholics ; and the nomination of
Pius IX. us his successor is mentioned with considerable
satisfaction. We are gratified at the revival of " Glean-
ings in the Green Isle," as the writer has a buoyancy of
manner and a spontaneousness of expression (we can give
it no other name) which we particularly admire : the
present instalment is infinitely the best that has hitherto
appeared. Mr. Price's contribution, entitled " The
Infidel," is the more excellent because—invested with
much dramatic interest—it instils a very noble principle,
and is pointed with a solemn moral. The conclusion of
the tale is powerfully drawn : it reminds one of Warren's
inimitable " Passages, from the Diary of a Late Phy-
sician." For the pleasure of our reader we will tran-
scribe some verses on " The Coquette, by Miles Gerald
Keon." They are animated by a touching and beautiful
sentiment. The lady, in her old age, is seated at her
casement, and sings the follow ing:—
Mv heart is sinking
With ever thinking
Of him who wooed me in early life;
lie had scarce a rental,
But his look was gentle,
As, whisp'ring, he prayed me to be his wife.
" I cannot proffer
A wealthy coffer,"—
So ran his words in the days of youth,—
" But your husband's glory
May be named in story,
And you shall engross a heart of truth."
But I answered slightly,
Laughing so lightly,
That my love was love of the rich and high,
" And Cat I cared not,
Indeed, I dared not."
And thus I rebuked him, I know not why.
He bowed, and departed,
Quite broken-hearted,
And long I thought he might come once more;
But, 0 my life's morning !
One pretence of scorning,
Clouded the light which your moments bore.
Thus my heart is sinking,
As I still sit thinking
How he prayed me softly to be his wife
Though small was the rental,
The look was so gentle,
Of him who wooed me in early life.
Acurious paper on "The Requiem Bell" follows, in which
the antiquity of its use and the variety of its usages are
narrated. In its every tone that voice seems to have been
Lando Deem verum ; on Sundays, plebem voco ; and on
jubilees, festo decoro ; but its most mournful cry was
Defunctos ploro The illustrative recollections given
upon these several heads betoken no inconsiderable re-
search. In the article " Upon the Prospects of Agri-
culture" we are pleased to remark that the author has
no forebodings of ruin to our tenant-farmers or landed
proprietors, from those glorious measures of commercial
reform which are now, thank God, indelibly written on
the statute-book. But although his theory, that the
conversion of arable land into pasture land will be a
necessary and advantageous consequence of the unre-
stricted importation of foreign corn, is ingenious enough,
we cannot conceive that it is based upon anything like
substantial argument. The notions may bo historically
probable, but they are logically improbable. We anti-
cipate neither a preponderance in pasture nor in arable
land, but an ultimate balance of both. In drawing out
his scheme the writer has altogether overlooked the
circumstance that butcher's meat and live cattle are
being, and will continue to be, very extensively im-
ported, as well as grain : now the Romans imported no
butcher's meat or cattle (or scarcely any) while they
were wholly supplied with flour from abroad—the con-
sequence was they were obliged to depasture their herds
at home. The deductions of the author go therefore
for nothing in point of fact—in point of ingenuity and
novelty they are clever. Of the memoir by the Rev.
Charles Plowden, which is commenced in the present
number, we shall refrain from expressing any opinion
until it is further advanced. " A Plea for Eustace
Budgell" is a singular effort to redeem the memory of
that essayist from the obloquy with which it has been
heretofore covered, and is written by the author of the
" Vicissitudes of Illustrious Men," which series we are
glad to see will be resumed next month. Without any
question, the most delightful contribution in this num-
ber of Dolman is that upon " The Last of the Bona-
partes,Prince Napoleon Louis ;" it is charmingly written.
From the recent escape of this unfortunate and adventur-
ous Prince, and from the romance which invests his most
illustrious name; from the agreeable elegance and sparkle
of the composition, and from the fact of the authoress be-
ing a personal acquaintance of this descendant of the Great
peculiarly apropos. There is a
Napoleon, we have no hesitation in calling her perform-
ance the best magazine article of the month. The pre-
sence of Prince Louis in London at this moment, only
tends to enhance the interest of the narrative, and ren-
der
llietryin
of the writer, which is—(really we can think of no
other word to express our meaning)—capital. From
its piquancy and freshness we should conjecture the
authoress to be young in the mysteries of writing,
we will quote a sentence descriptive
but that iinnatlhltehreemsposreeeciftsserious portions of the paper she
e is well proportioned, about five feet
discloses a perfect familiarity with those same mysteries.
height, with light-brown iitihoani.r, moustache,
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