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project of becoming at some future time his biographer. Mr.
ti.oscoe formed a striking exception to that indifference for the
works of art which artists have laid to tho charge of the poets,
with whom indeed, in youth especially, the charms of external
nature, and the emotions of the heart, are usually all-engros-
sing interests. In him a fondness for the imitative arts seems
to have been almost instinctive; his Italian studies nourished
doubtless the predilection; and the first of his published poems,
an "Ode on the Formation of a Society in Liverpool for
the Encouragement of Painting and Design," composed in his
twentieth year, gave an earnest of that enlightened curiosity re-
specting those objects which was to contribute to the illustration
of his chosen theme. Four years later, in a poem of very consi-
derable merit, entitled " Mount Pleasant," ho sang the praises of
his native town, now fastrising iu opulence and commercial im-
portance; and at the same time made a commencement of those
laudable endeavours, in which he constantly persevered to direct
the attention of his townsmen to the more liberal pursuits of
science and literature; and in his own words " to abate that
spirit of enterprise and thirst of gain, which, when too much
indulged, is seldom productive either of virtue or happiness."
In this poem he likewise entered his earliest protest agaiust
that peculiar reproach of Liverpool, its large concern in the
African slave trade. Thus early had his well-constituted mind
seized upon objects of interest and pursuit, both highly im-
portant and worthy iu themselves, and so well adapted to his
own powers, and to the circumstauces by which he found him-
self surrounded, as never afterwards to be abandoned by him as
impracticable, or dropped as use!ess.
The French Revolution now broke -forth, and even in this
country the flames of political animosity soon blazed up with
fury. It could not be doubtful, from the previous course of Mr.
Roscoe's public conduct, and the leading principles of his cha-
racter, which side was to receive his support. His feelings and
his convictions were all enlisted in the cause of freedom, which
he regarded as that of human nature. He attended two meet-
ings held in 1790 and 1791, in commemoration of the destruction
of the Bastile ; and at the second, he recited his celebrated
song, beginning " O'er the vine-covered hills and gay regions
of 1' ranee," which was written for the occasion, But the ex-
cesses of the French leaders soon became shocking to humanity
like his, and grief and shame took place of the exultation with
which he hailed the dawn of French liberty. Through some
propitious circumstance, of which his biographer has omitted to
inform us, Mr. Roscoe had before this time obtained the ac-
.3uaintance of the late Marquis of Lansdowne ; and that discern-
ing nobleman, struck with his talents and his merit, had esta-
blished with him a frequent and confidential correspondence,
chiefly on political topics, which was maintained to the termina-
tion of his lordship's life. To his lordship he thus expressed
his sentiments on the aspect of affairs at home and abroad,
immediately- after the destruction of the Brissotines :
" As to the great point which the French think they have
gained 'by the destruction of-their monarchy, I: think it of little
consequence; not that lain become a believer in the maxim,
that " whate'er is best administered is best," but -because .1
think that a mouarchy is capable of being well constituted for
the happiness of a people as a republic. And though, I hope,
not superstitious, I cannot help thinking that the voluntary
and solemn oath of a whole nation, to abide by a constitution
which they took three years in framing, ought, if there be any
thing serious or binding in human affairs, to have some weight.
I will not trouble your lordship with my flings on the con-
duct of the French rulers subsequent to this shocking event.
The horrid industry employed in the discovery of the other
proscribed deputies, the deliberate mockery of their trial, and
the bloody indifference of the people at large, on the execution
of such men as Rabaut, who first rescued them from despotism,
freezes my affections, and gives me a dislike, not only to the
French, but to may species. Sorry am Ito say, that this dislike
is not much removed by any thing I can see in my own country,
where the same selfish and slavish spirit that has contributed to
bring on the enormities of France is apparent in the prosecu-
tion of all those who aim, by a cool, rational, and deliberate
reform, to prevent a similar catastrophe here."
In the study of the Italian writers, with a view to his great
literary object, Mr. Roscoe now sought relief from the vexa-
tions of politics; and his activity .found further exercise for
itself in an undertaking, to which he was partly prompted by
his early love of agricultural occupations and a country life,—
the drainage of an extensive tract of moss-land in the neigh-
bourhood of Manchester, which occuried for many years a large
portion of the time he was able to snatch from professional and
literary pursuits.
.After several years of anxious preparation., the "Life of
Lorenzo de' Medici" was given to the public in 1796. The
persevering efforts of the author, aided by some signal, circum-
stances of good fortune, by which the difficulties attending the
collection of his materials were .triumphantly overcome, are
narrated by his biographer with considerable but interesting
detail; as are the warm testimonies of approbation, domestic
and foreign, which the publication justly earned for him Lord
Lansdowne assured the author that the success had been far
beyond any book he remembered, "though flume's publica-
tion of his grst volumes was within his memory." Lord Orford
was enchanted with the graces of the narrative, and the beauty
or the poetical translations. The Earl of Bristol, from his resi-
dencent Rome, wrote to inquire the place of residence of "the
ingenious, learned, and elegant author;" and what present of
hooks, pictures, or statues, might be most welcome to him.
His early friend, Dr. Aikin, assured bins that but one opinion
was heard as to its being the most elegant and interesting work,
of a literary nature, which had appeared for many years; and
congratulated bins that a merit long conspicuous in the circle
of his friends was now fairly manifested to the world at large.
Dr. Parr introduced himself to his acquaintance with a long
list of learned remarks and corrections; and he was at once
gratified and embarrassed by a glowing compliment, from the
author of the "Pursuits of Literature." Even the periodical
.critics gave nearly unalloyed praise to the new candidate for
fame. In Italy, the book was received with similar marks of
approbation and esteem. The learned Fabroni laid aside a
life of Lorenzo, which he had himself begun, and promoted in
its stead a translation of the English work. Other eminent
Italian scholars wrote letters of compliment to the author; and
his literary reputation, at this day, stands even higher in that
country than in his own. The work was also translated into
the French and German languages, with the accompaniment of
learned notes. It was subsequently reprinted at Philadelphia.

FisHEß's DRAWING RooM SCRAP BOOR FOR 1834, WITH
POETICAL ILLUSTRATIONS, &C. By L. E. L. London,
1833.
This work is finished in a very elegant manner, and
contains a considerable number of splendid engravings,
not all new we admit, but of the first order and in unim-
paired condition nevertheless. Miss Landon furnishes
the poetry and some of the prose, which, to our taste, is
more attractive than her rhymes, and is a sort of cool
resting place to the windward of those gardens of roses
and perfumes, in which the maiden's muse delights to
roam. Some of the more beautiful engravings are repre-
sentations of oriental scenery, but there are two or three
good portraits, and three landscapes from our own im-
mediate locality. "Coneston Water" is an exquisite
picture, but as we do not give pictures as one of our .con-
temporaries gives sea serpents, we must content ourselves
with selecting Miss Landon's verses which accompanv.a
spirited sketch of the" Old Wishing Gate" of Liverpool
THE WISHING GATE:*
Wishes, no ! I have.not one,
Hope'ssweet toil with me is dope :
One by one have flitted by.
All the rainbows Of my sky ;
'Not a star could now unfold
Aught I once wished to be told.
What have Ito seek of thee I
Not a wish remains for me.

Let the soldier pause to ask
Honour on his glorious task ;
Let the parting sailor crave
A free wild wind aeross the wave ;
Let the maiden pause to frame
"Blessings on some treasured name ;
Let them breathe their hopes in thee,
Not a wish remains for me.

Not a wish ! beat not my heart,
Thou hast bade thy dreams'tlepart ;
They have past, but left behigd
• Weary spirit, wasted mind.
Ah ! ifthis old charm were south,
One wish yet might tax its truth;
I would ask, however vein,
Never more to wish again.
I believe that to this haunted gate a common superstition is attach-
ed,"namely, that to Wish, and to have that wish fulfilled, is the result
of such wish being uttered while passing.

TOM CRINGLE'S LOG; REPRINTED FROM BLACKWOOD'S
MAGAZINE, WITH ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS.

Blackwood has our best thanks for bringing out in a
separate work these liVely and inimitable stories. Tom
Cringle is the Peregrine Pickle and the Humphry
Clinker of our times; he is every whit as amusing, with-
out being as coarse as Smollet; and we are confident that
no book has recently issued from the press which has half
the chance of becoming so popular. We have already
given many extracts from the log, and we are therefore
at a loss to light on a portion sufficiently concise foK,9nr
columns ; but, as far as we remember,- the following has
not been brought under general notice. Cringle and his
companions, Bang and others are in- St. Domingo, for
some purposes which it is unnecessary to explain, and in
the solitude of the mountain scenery the following touch
of superstition and sea sentimentality occurs. We shall
give it the title of Bang's Confessions:—
Had I lived before the Roman conquest I would have been
a Druid, for it is not under the echoing domes of Our magnifi-
cent cathedrals, with all the grandeur of our ritual, the flaming
tapers, and bands of choristers, and the pealing organ, and smok-
ing censers, and silver-toned bells, and white-robed priests, that
the depths of my heart are stirred up. It is here, and not in a
temple made with hands; however gorgeous—here, in the secret
places of the everlasting forest,—it is in such a place as this that
I feel the immortal spark within me kindling into a flame, and
wavering up heavenward. I am superstitious, Thomas, I am
superstitious, when left alone in such a scene as this. I can
walk through a country churchyard at midnight, and stumble
amongst the rank grass that covers the graves of those I have
lived with and loved, even if they be "green in death, and fes-
tering in their shrouds," with the wind moaning amongst the
stunted yew-trees, and the rain splashing and scattering on the
moss-covered tombstones, and the blinding blue lightning flash-
ing, while the headstones glance like an array of sheeted ghosts,
and the thunder is grumbling overhead, without a qualm—dire-
ness of this kind cannot once daunt me ;—it is here aid now,
when all nature sleeps in the ardent noontide, that I become
superstitious, and would -not be- willingly left alone. Thoughts
too deep for tears !—aye, indeed, and there be such thoughts,
that, long after time Was allowed them to subside, and when, to
the cold eye of the world, all is clear and smooth above, will,
when stirred up, like the sediment of this fountain of the wood,
discolour and embitter the whole stream of life once more, even
after the lapse of long, long years. When my heart-crushing
loss was recent—when the wound was green, I could not walk
abroad at this to wie witching time of day, without a stock or a
stone, a distant mark on the hill-side, or the outline of the grey
cliff above, taking the very fashion of her face;or figure, on
which 1 would gave, and gaze, as if spell-bound; Until I. knel
nat whether to call it a gioupingef tbe imsginatinn-, or a'reality