The Sun.
London, England, 1832-12-01 00:00:00

FRASER'S MAGAZINE.

" Whig Foreign Policy" is ingeniously argued
by one who has the tact to make the worse ap-
pear the better side of the question. We should
much like to see the writer engaged in an ela-
borate dissertation to prove that black is white.
The subject would be well worthy of his abili-
ties. " The Annuals" is a light, sketchy notice
of these showy ephemera, in which a few harm-
less smiles are indulged in at the expense of Mr.
Alaric Attila Watts. The article calls for no
particular notice. " Physical Evidences of the
Characteristics of Ancient Races among the Mo-
derns" is an essay heavy enough to sink a se-
venty-four. For many of his speculations the
author is indebted to the late Mr. Hope's fantas-
tical theories on man. " William Roscoe" is
a brief pertinent notice of the late historian of
that name—the lion of Liverpool, and the
founder, if we mistake not, of its present
flourishing Athenwum. He was an able writer
(except in the poetical department), though the
two pillars of his fame, the histories of Leo the
Tenth, and Lorenzo the Magnificent, are scarcely
strong enough to prop him up for any consider-
able length of time. They display erudition and
taste, but there is a want of vigour and charac-
ter about them. Placed by the side of Gibbon
or Lingard, they show but to sorry advantage.
However, if not a great, Mr. Roscoe was a
good man ; and for this he deserves the respect-
ful remembrance of posterity. Of the likeness
prefixed to the memoir we can say nothing, as
we never had the good fortune to see the
original. There are, however, a sternness and
solidity of thought about it, which we should
scarcely have expected to see in a writer so full
of elegance and amiability. " The Spermaceti
Candle,"is a poetic squib, which would be amus-
ing, if it were not so elaborate. It is an imitation
of the quaint versifyings in the earlier anti better
numbers of Blackwood. " Some Passages in
the Life of an Idler," is highly entertaining.
iVlany of the descriptive touches display a master.
hand ; there is a freshness and spirit about the
following, which has much amused us :

4, At sunset we entered the woods to make our barri-
cade. It is done thus :—One of the party, using his
snow-shoe as a shovel, clears out a hole in the snow of
about eight feet by seven. Having come to the ground,
he smooths it by breaking the lumps of ice, frozen moss,
and clods, with the back of his axe. Another, descending
to the river, procures a kettle of water by cutting a hole
in the ice ; and, on his return, fells some four or five
bushy trees,—preferring the Canada balsam or the spruce,
from the closeness of the brush. From these he knocks
off the branches, which, being frozen, snap at a blow,
and spreads them thickly on the bottom of the barricade,
so as to make a soft, fragrant and elastic couch.
" Meantime the two other men have felled a number of
dry trees, and one tree with the sap yet within it. All
are cut into logs, some six feet long, and piled horizontally
at one end of the b trricade. You next gather some birch
hark or dry moss, splinter some dry wood, and strike a
light :—you have then a fire ; and, like one of Homer's
begin to cook your victuals. Having set the kettle
each man divests himself of his leggings, socks, and
mtho:bcooaesisls,,ins, and puts on dry things, leaving the others sus-
pended in the smoke. All then lie down, wrapped in their
blankets, side by side, enjoying the luxury of their pipes.
When the meat is boiled, each man devours his two or
three pounds of it, and consigns himself to sleep. Sweet
sleep, the filmy-eyed, comes to him speedily, for he is

aweary ! Nor does the crackling of the trees, in the criish-
ing and grinding frost, sounding like a straggling fire of
musketry, and reverberated by a thousand echoes, disturb
him ;—•nor does he long keep his eye on the glorious
heavens, albeit they are shipped hare to the ether—where
all the stars are seen, and the frequent meteors are rustling
in their fleet career.
• • • * • • •

,4 When the fire becomes low, the cold awakens him ;
he throws down more logs, smokes another pipe, and goes
to sleep again. But before day-break he is on the alert,
to mend his snow-shoes, mocassins, &c. &c., and prepare
for his journey. His breakfast is light as his supper was
heavy ; one or two lumps of bated dough, and, if he have
it, a pint of tea.
• « • • • «

" Like the wild geese, we take turn in leading the file—
in beating the track, as it is called—each for about two
hours, so as to share the labour and danger amongst us.
The labour falls heaviest on the first man, for he sinks
deepest in the snow ; and he incurs the greatest danger,
inasmuch as he has to run the chance of disappearing
through those holes in the ice which are occasioned by
springs and other c mses, but which are as well covered
with snow as any other part of the lake or river, and
which, while walking on the level pain of snow, it is im-
possible to detect."

" The World of Dreams" is a graceful, elo-
quent specimen of versification, modelled on
the style of Mrs. Hemans, with the addition of
a vigour and robustness which this accomplished
lady rarely puts forth. " Walter Vivian, the
Smuggler" is a common-place story, told in a very
picturesque manner. The conclusion is highly
wrought up, and appeals forcibly to the feelings.
" The Books of Aphorisms" are a collection of
maxims, half serious, half comic, told in that
racy pointed style which rarely fails to please.
The running Commentary, by O'Doherty, is
scarcely what we might expect from his sprightly,
practised—perhaps too practised—pen. " Dia-
logues of the Dead" exhibit some humour,
though it is somewhat of the broadest. The con-
versation between the ghost of Jeremy Bentham
and Thurtell is too far-fetched and offensive to
please generally.