The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1841-12-14 00:00:00

LITERARY NOTICES.

Fraser for December

Fraser particularly rich this month. The first article is
very charmingly written. The author must be an enthusi-
astic lover of the country and country scenes—" he prates
most eloquently of green fields." Some delightful quota-
tions from the poets enrich the original matter. " Old and
Lesser Stars of Pall-mall," introduces us to Queen Anne
Boleyn, John Kingston, the musician, Oliver Cromwell,
Gibbons, Sir Roger L'Estrange, and Quin, the bass singer,
Purcell, the composer, Quin, the comedian, Tom D' Urfey,
Handel, Dr. Johnson, George 111.. Nell Gwynne, and otln•
celebrated people. Many of the anecdotes are very curious
and characteristic. " The Condemned Cells," from the
note book of the Ordinary, presents us with some particulars
of Ikey Solonions, whose remarkable escape occupied much
of the public notice a few years ago. The rev. writer shows
the absurdity of the working out of the law in some cases,
which visits the extreme penalty upon the receiver equally
with the thief. The detail of the case of the young man who
was convicted and hung as a receiver of supposed stolen
goods, is cited as an instance. Every one must deplore that
affair as one of peculiar hardship. Nine times out of ten the
receiver is worse than the thief. " Wanted a Clerk"—an
advertisement—is a clever, piquante, and witty poem in
Haynes Bayley's style. The object is to obtain a clerk for a
mercantile house. The multitudinous duties are humourously
enumerated. " Our true British Queen," by Robert Storey,
is a very spirited national song—the title willshow its purport.
" Anecdotes of Actors" gives us some good jokes touching
John Kemble, Claremont, Mathews, and Spring. The
sketch of Dignum is capital. " A Plea for the Porkers" is a
bit of pleasantry worth laughing at but not remembering.
" Signs of the Times" is evidently from the pen of an ob-
server. In the series, " The Dogs of several of my Ac-
quaintance," we find droll " Memoirs of Mr. Delastro's
Tohy, and Mr. Bramble's Hero." The " Hoggarty Dia-
mond" is brought to a close. It has been well sustained
throughout, and is written in a bitter vein of satire.—" A
Dublin Mayor's Nest" closes this amusing number.

Burnaby Rudge. Waring Webb, Liverpool

The clock has stopped ; and the old gentleman is no more.
We have often commended this tale in its progress, and stil
think that it is one of much ability, originality, and talent;
if not altogether equal to other works of Mr. Dickens', it is
in parts far superior to them. We have more originality in
the characters than those7of Pickwick or Nicholas Nickleby :
although there is not that intenseness of interest awakened
by the story, we are still satisfied with the work on the
whole, and look upon it as an ornament to the literature of
the present day. In the present number we find Barnaby
reprieved, Joe Willett and Dolly Varden married, Edward
Chester and Miss Haredale committing the same act of gentle
violence—everybody is made happy except Mr. Chester, who
is killed by Haredale in a duel; Miggs becomes a turnkey,
old Willett retires to a cottage at Chigwell, and Joe is in-
' stalled " mine host" of the Maypole. Barnaby leads a happy
life with his mother. Master Humphrey, we are told in con-
elusion, is found dead ; his friend thus feelingly and patheti-
cally writes of him :

As he did not appear among us at his usual hour next
morning, we knocked gently at his door. No answer being
given, it was softly opened ; and then, to our surprise, we
saw him seated before the ashes of his fire, with a little table
I was accustomed to set at his elbow when I left him for the
night, and at a short distance from him, as though he had
pushed it away with the idea of rising and retiring to his
bed. His crutch and footstool lay at his feet as usual, and
he was dressed in his chamber-gown, which he had put on
before I left him. He was reclining in his chair, in his ac-
customed posture, with his face towards the lire, and seemed

absorbed in meditation,—indeed, at first, we almost hoped he

Going up to him, we found him dead. I have often, very
often, seen him sleeping, and always peacefully ; but I never
saw him look so calm and tranquil. His face wore a serene,
benign expression, which had impressed me very strongly
when we last shook hands : not that he had ever any other
look, God knows : but there was something in this so very
spiritual, so strangely and indefinably allied to youth, although
his head was grey and venerable, that it was new even in
him. It came upon me all at once, when on some slight pre-
tence he called me back upon the previous night, to take me
by the hand again, and once more say " God bless you."
A bell-rope hung within his reach, but he had not moved
towards it, nor had he stirred, we all agreed, except, as I have
said, to push away his table, which he could have done, and
no doubt did, with a very slight motion of his hand. lie had
relapsed for a moment into his late train of meditation, and
with a thoughtful smile upon his face, died.
I had long known it to be his wish, that whenever this
event should come to pass, we might be all assembled in the
house. I therefore lost no time in sending for Mr. Pickwick
and for Mr. Miles ; both of whom arrived before the messen-
ger's return.

It is not my purpose to dilate upon the sorrow, and affec-
tionate emotions, of which I was at once the witness and the
sharer. But I may say, of the humbler mourners, that his
faithful housekeeper was fairly heart-broken ; that the poor
barber would not be comforted ; and that I shall respect the
homely truth and warmth of heart of Mr. Weller and his son,
to the last moment of my life.

" And the sweet old creetur, sir," said the elder Mr. Weller
to me in the afternoon, "has bolted. Him as had no wice,
and was so free from temper that a infant might ha' drove
him, has been took at last with that 'ere unawoidable fit o'
staggers as we all must come to, and gone off his feed for
ever ! I see him," said the old gentleman, with a moisture
in his eve which could not be mistaken, " I see him gettin',
every journey, more and more groggy ; 1 says to Samivel,
My boy ! the grey's a going at the knees ;' and now my pre-
delictions is fatally verified; and him as I could never do
enough to serve or shew my likin' for, is up the great uni-
wersal spout o'natur."
I was not the less sensible of the old man's attachment,
because he expressed it in his peculiar manner. Indeed, I
can truly assert, of both him and his son, that notwithstand-
ing the extraordinary dialogues they had together, and the
strange commentaries and corrections with which each of
them illustrated the other's speech, I do not think it possible
to exceed the sincerity of their regret ; and that I am sure
their thoughtfulness and anxiety, in anticipating the discharge
of many little offices of sympathy, would have dune honour
to the most delicate-minded persons.

Speech delivered at the First Annual Dinner of the Teach-
ers and Officers of the Liverpool Mechanics' Institution.
By W. B. Hodgson. Marples, Liverpool. p.p. 8.
The speech delivered by Mr. Hodgson, thetalented secretary
of the Mechanics' Institution, at the annual dinner of the
teachers and officers, in January last, has just been published
by the wish of those present. It is a clever address, and
deserves great attention. There is good sound sense in it,
with a fair sprinkling of the "flowers of rhetoric." It
ought to be found in the hands of all who have the educa-
tional interests of the young at heart.

The Governess. Madame Riofray, London

This unpretending little work maintains the even tenor of
The present number is not a whit behind any of
its predecessors. We recommend it to the notice of all

its way