The Sun.
London, England, 1842-10-01 00:00:00

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sattdelr Lug humour, and contains one or two serious
impassioned passages that rise almost to
lay, Of the ineffable beauties of the Greek
guage—the fitting dialect of Gods—Nimrod
speaks with the generous fervour of a scholar.
" Motion and music," he remarks, " are in every
tone; enthusiasm and enchantment possess the
mind. The powers of the language set transla-
tion at defiance." This is strictly true, for what
tension—no matter how skilfully executed—can
give an adequate idea of the fullness and gran-
deur of Homer's melody; or of the incomparable
majesty of one of Sophocles' dramas? " I was
always of opinion," continues Nimrod, " that
Greek is a less difficult language than Latin."
We think so, too, though the general impression,
we are aware, is otherwise. At any rate for all
Purposes of intellectual enjoyment, Greek,
though not so useful perhaps, is infinitely better
worth studying than Latin. " Irish Dragoons
and English Guardsmen' is a lively, rattling,
01r-hand notice of Mr. Lever's lately published
tales Of " Harry Lorrequer" and " Charles
°'Malley." The notice is penned in a friendly
and discriminating. spirit. In "Some of the Pic-
ture Galleries in England," we find a judicious
criticism on Sebastian del Piombo's magnificent
of the " Raising of Lazarus," which it
will delight—and perhaps surprise—some of our
readers to know may be seen fir the small sum
of Nothing in Trafalgar-square. The " Last of
The Homeric Ballads" is by the late Dr. Maginn.
As it was written within a week of his death, and
under circumstances most unfavourable to com-
position, we feel that we are precluded from
of it otherwise than in a kindly spirit.
" esubjoi n the Editor's introductory observations:
This ballad was finished in the golden sunlight of a
summer's eve. On the following Sabbath, about the
!time hour that I had penned the concluding stanzas
from the dictation of the author, I beheld him cold,
and dead, and coffined, awaiting the last sad ceremony
of interment. The lips that but a short week be-
fOi
had flashed forth choice and beaufful wit were
Closed and colourless ; the spirit that shone within his
eyes had vanished away, and, let us hope, had winged
tai that to Some sphere of peace. All that was mor-
whfill f 'William Maginn lay before me—my eyes
with tears. And I thought within myself,
learahor had
sped that grand eccentric genius whose
l_ad been the luminary of his age, and whose
I euarraed thousands. All was silent! The
°,l"-Y 'sound
tool • was the soughing of the cold and melan-
thal wind
as it swept amid the branches-of the trees
.reonsl4rruunded the cottage, and passed onward,
rg as it went. On the Sunday before he died,
-.*"`• nu had been remarkably cheerful, eloquent, and
Th
last • • These qualities, indeed, he possessed to the
a but I had often seen him in health, when he was
tucso .brilliant as now in his setting, and within a
he'!f.'tVace of .the twilight of death. :During the,day.!
4ad related inimmetable stories of all the great"!
writers with whom he had lived in intimacy; had
IT'llted about books and men with that mingled vein of
iltnuar• and philosophy which was the great orna-
ellt of his conversation on' • and had amused him-
n lf in detailing one of those literary projects
tibia, •
inch his mind was always running, but
f,, alas ! were never fhted to be ful-
lieu• Death had not at any time entered into
discourse ; apparently he sought to keep it altoge-
Ater out of his thoughts. Though so weak as to re-
quire to be lifted in my arms across the room, he
seemed to think dissolution by no means near ; or, if
he knew that he was dying, he certainly bore it with
.1t philosophy that would have immortalised his name
!,,11 the days of Socrates or Cato. About four o'clock
left him for an hour or two, when he slept, and re-
turned to him in the evening. He was then up,
propped by pillows in an arm-chair, and as gay and
intelligent as if he had never been ill. After we had
talked a short while, " K—," said he, " shall I take
Vale work out of you ?" I, of course assented ; and
4,.'aving got some paper and ink, I sat 'down opposite
He then took Homer in his hand ; and, after
a brief interval of thought, dictated the latter part of
IlleAllowing ballad, evidently with no mental labour,
but with an ease that could have resulted only from
his ititimacy with the Greek, and his extraordinary
Povver of versification. When he had finished, I read
tor bin the entire translation, and marked out the
Greek for the printer. He desired me to correct the
' I have done so, but I scarcely anticipated
\Nth" We sat together that it was to be the last of his
eol .

'AINSWORTH'S MAGAZINE.
Th. "Miser's Daughter " is apparently draw-
Intrto a conclusion—at least we judge so from
the two marriages that are solemnised in the pre-
:scut chapters ; for in most modern works of fic-
aion,--the chief personages are pretty sure to be
xnateimenially addicted towards the end of the
third volume; and we see no "just cause or im-
P,etiUrietst" sally this rule should be violated in
t.se tale-before us. If not the best, the " Miser's
aughter" is among the best, of Mr. Ainsworth's
fit %ions. If it have not all the vigour, and fresh-
nc ss, and fancy of " Rookwood," it
exhibits an
ea ge of manner utterly wanting in that romance ;
and is far more pleasing in its moral tone, and
more refined in its general character, than " Jack
Sheppard," with its eternal display of ruffianism
and flash vulgarity. As Mr. Ainsworth is not
very remarkable for his powers of humour, and
Therefore usually eschews the comic, we quote
his description of the marriage of Beau Vil-
liers's valet, Gripps, with a widow, Mrs. Nettle-
edp, who has accepted him on the supposition
tlett lie is the Beau himself, the shrewd valet
having passed himself off for his master, imi-
tated his manners, worn his clothes, and even
accepted bills in his name. Just as the marriage
service is commencing, the indignant Beau makes
appearance, infinitely to the dismay and as-
tonishment of Cripps, when the following scene
ensues, which exhibits a sprightly vein of hu-
mour, quite unusual with Mr. Ainsworth, and
reads like a dialogue in one of Vanbrugh's or
Tarquhar's comedies
Cripps presented a very chop .fallen appear-
anee. All his assurance deserted him. His hands
'dropped to his side, and he scarcely dared to meet his
Master's angry gaze.
" Rascal !" exclaimed Villiers, " I have at last
fairly detected you. I'll teach Tou to put on my
'4'l°tlles—to assume my name —'
What!" screamed Mrs. Nettleship, dropping a
I!.!ttle of salts, which she had placed to her nose-
-asn't it really himself—isn't it Mr. Willars ?"
'" No, madam," replied the beau—" I am Mr. Vil-
tre; and this rascal is only my valet, Cracken-
Len), Cripps.
Oh, the villain !—the base deceiver !—the im-
Nator!" cried Mrs. Nettleship, clenching her hands,
1.441 regarding the valet as if she would annihilate
trn•" 111 tear his eyes out ! To deceive and ex-
Afee Ilia in this Way—to—to—to—oh! I shall never
'ftivive it. Support me !" she added, falling into the
of the fair Thomasine.
(~" This is really too bad of you, Sir," said Mr.
13Ps, who began to recover himself a little. " You've
-"ceived me. I thought you were at Newmarket."
" I received information of your practices, rascal,"
replied the beau, " and determined to see to what ex-
tenn You carried them. And a pretty discovery I've
e I My house filled with company—my servants
'ned into your servants—a dinner, supper, confec-
n
ti
wine, fruit, musicians, and the devil knows
'hat, ordered at my expense:'
1:1-Wri ell, they are not thrown away, Sir," replied
• " You can marry the lady yourself, if
t3l°leLthink proper. I've no doubt she'll consent to the
FN ,I and she has fifty thousand pounds." _
111,1b_." 'll, the impudence !" exclaimed Mrs. Nettle-
taVe jilting up. " I'll not be taken in a second
I be revenged on all the sex!"
oaare not aware, Mr. Willars, of the extensive
Ildt this rascal .has practised upon you," said Mr.
ah!tlibone. He -has actually signed a bond for five
Pook-""sand pounds in your name, which I havei n my
etp
The devil he has !" exclaimed Villiers.
"But • •
he,it; is of no effect since the marriage has
.not
en place," said Mr. Cripps; " and if Mr. Villiers
.ilec*ses to take the lady, he will of course pay you
Ireself."
!11, sPlte of himself, the beau could not help laughing.
other ad•• Mr. Cripps is, he is not worse than tile
h Pary," said Trussell, stepping forward ; " while
tleers-tas tping them, they tried to dupe him. I un-
able and from Mr. Jukes, who has it on unquestion-
.. I authority, that Mrs. I‘Tettleship, so farfrom being ..Cealthy widow, is greatly in debt, while her friend
s„l:,e, Mr. Rathbone, hoped to pocket the five thou-
:, 7::4 pounds secured by the bond he has mentioned."
After
ivieded all then it seems I've had an escape !"
P
EE • Cripps,
:jiGetpta°ll have,' replied Trussell ; "and your uncle
116,;t4,-have told you all this before, if you had not
'ee'"lnhu at a distance."
40140 won't stay here to be laughed at !" cried the
cktatin looking defiance at the jeering countenances
her ; Mr. Rathbone, 3•our arm.
04't ; °II had better go away by the back stairs," said
411 stopping them ; for there are a couple of
euLn the hall :waiting to arrest you!i,
tone ;;Qe on it ! I sent them myself," said Mr. Rath-
Willa to compel the rascal 1 supposed to be Mr.
And
rs to pay your debts."
sews _ Urrying out of the room, he acted upon Trus-
tc;, Pgestion.
'llia now, rascal," said the beau to the valet,
Andollare no longer in my service—l discharge you.
,„„ You may thank your stars that I let you off' so
-
vale
as about to discharge you, air,"
rejoinel the
t, •
W
, impertinently. " I don't desire to live with a
gentleman who takes his servants by surprise. He's
Its bad as a jealous husband."
GE stay !" cried the beau---" you don't leave me in
Way. Antoine stand by him. Now, sir, take off"
Perake—take it off carefully—now the sword."

The orders were obeyed, and the wig and sword
delivered to the French valet.
" Now take off the coat."
Mr. Cripps complied, with a sigh.
" Now the waistcoat."
The order was obeyed.
" Now the cravat."

And .4: was taken off.
"Now; the diamond buckles."
" Anything else ?" inquired Mr. Cripps, as he gave
up the buckles. " Recollect there are ladies in the
room, sir."

" Yes; take yourself off," rejoined the beau.
Even thus shorn of his splendour, Mr. Cripps main-
tained his customary assurance. He bowed profoundly
and gracefully round, and quitted the room, amid the
laughter of the company.
_ _ _

‘l-' The Garden" is a defence of the old stately
style of English gardening, and does credit to
Mr. 011ier's taste. The " Franciscan's Cure" is
a poem that would be witty if it could, but no-
where rises above smartness. Some of the lines
halt and lh like an old man on crutches.
" The One Thing Needful" is an illustration of
the well-known tact, that nothing is to be done
in England without a dinner. A good dinner—
as Lord Stowell used wittily to remark—" lubri-
crates business," mellows the temper, and
smooths down all the rough edges of character.
All our Most popular and successful writers are
dinner-givers, and this we conceive to be one of
the chief secrets of their success. The sour,
vinegar, hatchet face of criticism, relaxes won-
derfully, over a smoking haunch; and assumes
the sweetest and blandest expression possible,
when placed in close contiguity with the Cham-
pagne and Burgundy. Let him who wishes to
stand well with society—to get fees from pa-
tients—briefs from attorneys—soft words from
reviewer—a id smiles and civilities from all
classes—keep a good cook, and never grudge
three courses to his guests? We protest we
know of no other way to get on, except by a
judicious system of swindling, carried on under
the plausible semblance of business. The
" Clare Fox-hunter" is an amusing description
—free from the besetting vice of most Irish
sketches of character—of a fine, jovial, intelli-
gent, sporting Patlander. " The Picture-hunter"
is one of the raciest portraits its author has yet
drawn. The humour is rich, yet delicate, just
hovering on the borders of the fantastic, without
overstepping propriety. " Windsor Castle" shows
a very fair acquaintance with the domestic his-
tory of the period of which it treats ; and is ably
illustrated by Tony Johannot.