The Sun.
London, England, 1856-05-31 00:00:00

LITERATURE,

Poems and Tales of Travel:
~,By John Leekey.

Whittaker and Co.

We are expected, of course, by the writer of this
little volume, upon opening it "to chew the cud
of sweet and bitter fancies" stored up in these same
" Poems and Tales of Travel." For the life of
us, however, we cannot swallow it. It is precisely
what is to us subject for the most utter repugnance.
Jingling verse, pretty in sound, weak in passion,
frivolous in signification. Precisely; too—all this
—what we have' showered upon us most abundantly:
"biding [as we luckless critics must] the pelting of
the pitiless storm" of " Poems" (so called) hurled at
us in cartloads, season after season, 4tos, Bvos., 12-
mos., 16m05., by a legion of poetasters. It is, never-
theless, a mistake for any one to suppose that the
multiplicity of these kinds of small versifiers consti-
tutes anything at all peculiar to our very favoured
generation. Not a bit of it. Ago after age some-
body or other has had to lament it. Sometimes a
cry of anguish coming from the lips of a really
great poet, stunned—under the dissonant dis-
cord of the would-be songsters not less
than the hero of Hogarth's deafening picture of the
Enraged Musician ! What was it Lord Byron
wrote in the second decade of the present century ?
" They storm the types, they publish, one and all,
They leap the counter, and they leave the stall,
Provincial maidens, men of high command,
Yea, baronets have inked the bloody hand !"
As for the stages of their rise and development,
does he not say, moreover, very descriptively ?

" Alas ! woe worth the scribbler often seen,
In Morning Post and Monthly Magazine.
There lurk his earlier lays ; but soon hot pressed,
Behold a quarto !—Tarts must tea the rest."
The time for quartos, it is true, has pretty well
gone by—but neither for duodecimos nor for tarts.
And so we still have the poetasters—a wonderful
band : numerous in themselves, and in their
habits marvellously industrious and productive.
They will " sing you like any sucking doves,"
and write whole libraries as they warble. Here is
another modest little volume to add to the yearly
hecatomb. Eheu ! for the many heartaches con-
sequent upon poetic ambiticns, bootless, fruitless,
and fraught only with the most woeful disappoint-
ment. It is curse enough in itself, we should con-
jecture, without the aid of ridicule from reviewers.
And so—shrugging our shoulders with bewilder-
ment when we find what we presume from the
title of the piece must be angaish—thus articulat-
ing itself—

" A chill came o'er my bounding heart,
A void in its recess ;
A blighting pang in every part,
A deep-felt, sore impress- ;"
and so forth—we close the little book, and lay it
aside sorrowfully.

Perversion ; a Tale for the Times. 3 vols.
Smith and Elder.
The object of this tale is to show the causes that
chiefly lead to infidelity in the present day, and to
depict their consequences. The hero, Charles
Bampton, is the only son of a weak and foolish
widow. He is heir to a large fortune, and is sent
to a preparatory school at a great distance from his
mother, whose indulgence his guardian feared
would impede his progress. But at this school he
meets with so much potty tyranny, and suffers So
much from the cruelty of the elder boys, headed
by ono named Armstrong, that he makes his
escape, and, after a long and painful journey, re-
turns to his mother. His sufferings and fatigues,
added to the exposure to the weather, bring on a
dangerous illness, from which lie never entirely
recovers. After this unfortunate affair, school is
not to be thought of again, so a German tutor is
procured, with the stipulation that he is neither to
make his pupil a Republican, or an Atheist. To
this the instructor assents, and, consequently,
when Charles begins to inquire into the traditional
principles of his faith the tutor takes refuge in
vague generalities. But it is not enough not to
iustruct youth in evil ; it must be taught what is
right, or the natural faults of the character and the
influence of bad companions will speedily depress
the scale. It was thus with Charles Bampton, but in
his case the evil was further increased by unfortunate
circumstances. His mother, who was a weak-
minded woman, easily influenced by those around
her, had taken up her residence in a country town
where the two extremes of High and Low Church
had developed themselves. Unhappily for Charles
and hie twin sister Clara, who shared his opinions,
the individuals of both sects whom they met, pre-
sented none of the features of a Christian charac-
ter ; consequently, they decided that religion was
a delusion, and that most of its followers were hy-
pocrites. Charles's principles had been undermined
at college, where he had met with his old enemy
Armstrong, without recognising him. This indivi-
dual, after passing some time in the army, left it
in consequence of some discreditable transactions,
and after many singular adventures, spent some
time in America with the Mormons. He had been
married, had left his wife with the Mormons,
and returned to England, taking the name of
Archer on inheriting some property. He consi-
dered the best way to employ himself was to enter
college, and accordingly went to Oxford, where
his talents soon procured him distinction. Hers
he met his former victim, Bampton, who did not
recognise him, owing to the alteration of name and
appearance. They were frequently together, and.
Archer, who was a confirmed atheist, partly from
inclination and partly from the theories of German
metaphysicians, soon brought his friend to join his
views. He, in his turn, confessed his opinions to
his sister, and almost extinguished the lingering
elements of belief in her mind. But the time of
sorrow was coming, to prove to them that in the
furnaceof suffering how the false ore of their German
theories, their mysticisms of Kane, and Hegel, and
Atkinson, would dissolve and fail them—only the
true gold of earnest Christianity could be their
support and guide. Archer and Bampton, in
making an excursion over the mountains, lose their
way in a dangerous part, when Charles falls and
breaks his leg. Assistance is procured, and he is
carried to the house of his aunt, who lives near,
and with whom Clara is on a visit. Archer falls in
love with her and her fortune, and proposes to her.
She accepts his offer, and they are engaged, with
the consent of her guardians. Not, however, with
that of Charles. In any case the marriage of his
favourite sister, with whom he had shared all his
thoughts and opinions, would have been painful ;
but Charles, atheist though ho was, began to think
Archer a very undesirable husband for the impe-
tuous and affectionate Clara. However, his re-
monstrances are too late, and he goes abroad for
his health in disgust. Archer introduces his bride
o some atheistical friends, who finally induce her
,o abandon her faith. Soon after she is startled

by the appearance of her husband's first wife, whom
he had left among the Mormons, thinking himself
effectually rid of her. She threatens him with a trial,
from which he escapes, only, however, to be subse-
quently convicted of perjury, and sentenced to
three years' imprisonment. Poor Clara, over-
whelmed by this terrible misfortune, is tended with
affectionate care by her aunt. But all human
solace is in vain, her trouble is more than she
can bear. The religion of consolation is to her
only a name. One way remains to procure relief
and comfort. She pours out her feelings in a long
letter to her brother, which does not, how-
ever, reach him till he has read in anewspaper
the intelligence of her suicide. The effects of
this shock to his precarious health are nearly
fatal. He is saved, however, by the attention of
a clergyman and his wife, who are preparing to
sail for Madeira, and who prevail on him to accom-
pany them. In them he first sees true holiness—
not the narrow distinctions of sects and parties, not
the intolerance which reaches no further than
forms, but the true foundation of a Christian's life
—faith, hope, and charity. He is not, however,
convinced, though he regrets his inability to share
their belief, and though the words of his sister's
, pathetic farewell, in which she bewails her loss of
I " the religion of the cross," aroused him to a sense
I of the share her infidelity had in her final desola-
tion. He returns to England, and while waiting
on the coast he encounters one whom ho had known
in earlier days when under the influence of Archer
and his circle. He provides for one of whom his want
of principle had accelerated the downfall, and, like
the recreant Crusader, unwittingly exclaims, "May
God forgive us both." He returns to his summer-
house in the old town where he and Clara had met
so many unworthy professors ; but searching in a
different spirit he discovers one whom before they
had overlooked, an earnest and faithful minister,
who has devoted all his time and energies to labour-
ing among the poor and neglected. The last strong-
holds of his philosophical arguments are over-
thrown as he witnesses the self-denial, the charity,
the patience under suffering, the unshaken faith
with which he now becomes acquainted. He has
seen the effects of his boasted light and reason.
He has seen its encouragement of vice ; he has
witnessed its fruits in a treacherous friend and a
broken-hearted sister ; he has tried its inefficacy to
restrain from guilt; he has proved it powerless to
console. Henceforth he is a member of a truer
and holier creed. But the memory of the past
weighs upon him ; he seeks some means to atone,
if ho may, for the years worse than wasted. Not
long has be to labour before the night cometh in
which no man can work. He has learned that but
few years of life can be hoped for, and he resolves
to dedicate them to some noble purpose. This ob-
ject he finds in the events of the war which has
then just commenced, and he leaves England to
devote himself to the care of the sick and suffering,
and to endeavour to alleviate their wants and
miseries by his own abundant means. After a