The Sun.
London, England, 1833-07-01 00:00:00

COURT MAGAZINE.

The embellishments to this number are—a
portrait of Lady Howard de Walden, and a
sketch of Arundel Castle. We give the fair
lady the preference. The literary department is
choice and select, Leigh Hunt, of course,
figuring conspicuously among the contributors.
His " Year of Honeymoons" is sprightly and
colloquial, with one or two delicate touches of
description ; as for instance :

" July is a dumb, dreaming, hot, lazy, ►uxurious, de-
lightful month, for those who can do as they please, and
are pleased with what they do. The birds are silent ;we
have no more cuckoo, no more nightingale ; nature is
basking in repose; the cattle stand in the water; shade is
loved, and rest atter dinner. We understand in July,
what the Spaniard means by this siesta."

In this neatly-finished sketch, we object only
to the word " dumb." It is not characteristic
of a season when the grasshopper chirps more
shrilly than ever in the mown fields, and the
king-fisher give out his sharp tones from among
the sedges. " The Haunted Wood of Amesoy "
is a skilful and beautiful specimen of the tra-
ditional ballad. It is from the pen of Mrs.
Norton, who writes verse with remarkable grace
and, we should suppose, facility. We close
our hasty notice of this number, with the cha-
racter of " Tne late Earl Dudley" :

Who's son is he, or is he his own—as people say ?'
was the question a young lady at Alinack's asked for
partner, who quoted a joke of Lord Dudley's, last Wed-
nesday. It is scarcely a year since the world was wild to
be admitted in the Dudley Arms. Those who suffered
under the lash of the eccentric lord, washed down his wit
with his champ:toe, and consoled themselves for his
impertinences in their presence by retailing his oddities
in his absence. Even to the last !—One fine evening that
the usual guests were all assembled, lords, ladies, Igetnbers
of Parliament, wits, parasites, and prelates—where was
tnin, host?--.A slight excuse sufficed, and down to dinner
they all sit. The wine went round, the host was praised,
the Lord laughed at. Nobody but the butler and Bashaw
(B.shaw was the name of Lord Dudley's favourite dog)
looked aid. They all separated, anxiously rushing forth
fur who should be first to tell this latest and last freak of
Lord Dudley's, and in loud laughter was passed the eve of
that morning which dawned upon the scholar, the wit, the
statesman—no, the secretary—the scoffer, the railer, a
driveller and a show.' Well ! and why should he be
remembered ? Not for his own sake, but for human
nature', Perhaps no one ever started for life so brilliantly
as Sir John William Ward. The heir to rank and fortune,
be possessed talents that might have procured either, and
graced both, Through his life be never enjoyed either ;

at his death be made both contemptible ; he acqu;red an
Earldom to become extinct with hint ; he left money 0
lower the character of those he pretendea to love, and
none to those who were his real friends. His style or,
peaking (if we were to write his character as he used °,,
do pleasantly enou4h that of others, after the manner el,
Clarendon) was concise and pointed, too studied alg,
epigrammaiic may-be for debate, but at the same tints 16
polished, that no man c ,ul.l forbear to listen to it. Ilk,
indecision was as remarkable in political as private life.
He could never decide upon a wife or a party. He WO
generous also by fits and stirts ; gave magnificent dons'
tints, and refused small pittances—full of whim and foil,
even in his friendships—one who had dined with bins the
day before, would scarcely be accosted on the next ; 1011
with all these inequalities, and even without his rank 80:
riches, he could not be denied to be a most acre-able
companion. So fond of classical lore—so rich in allusio6
and imagination—so bitter upon those he did not like And
lived with (always an acceptable ingredient in companiv
where so much latent hatred prevails as in those that me
in the squares of London), he succeeded much in what fel,
can attempt, and almost all fail, a short narrative, either
of history or anecdote. Here his language was perfect',
and eloquence remalkable."