to advance to intimacy with him, and to tread the pathway to heaven in his society. He did not make any allusions to his particular situation; and, I think, the omission proved his good taste; such allusions must bring down the mind of the preacher from its proper elevation to a level with the ordinary concerns of life-and must occasion, to a modest and ingenuous mind, an embarrassment which should, by all possible means, be prevented from intruding on a person engaged in so sacred a duty." Eloquence had been so long studied, that it was now habitual to him, and it cost him no labour to speak correctly, or to produce the finest ideas. There was no affectation of quaintness of religious patavinity,' no mannerism. He was absorbed by concern for others, and had not one moment, one thought, to waste on the paltry object of their appreciation of his ability. "When the service was entirely concluded, I turned to look at the fair girl who had so much interested me at its commencement. Her eye was now elevated, and lighted up with an air of triumph, so bright, but so modest! There was one glance exchanged between her and Essex, but it was instantly withdrawn. It was so intelligent, so pure, so full of love and delight, that I regretted its immediate disappearance: it was abundant in the best feelings of youth and first love: alas, how fatal are time and experience to the bloom of such feelings."-pp. 67, 68. Then follows a narrative of the most lamentable defection that can well be imagined, ending, however, in deep contrition, and a truly tragical catastrophe. The next chapter consists of sketches selected and modernized from Sir Thomas Overbury's characters-which come in agreeably enough (though perhaps not very judiciously) to dispel the gloomy impressions created by the foregoing tale. Some of these, though drawn with the old fashioned quaintness, are still true to nature. Take as specimens, "Woman as she should be. "The sweetness of her disposition harmonizes with the fierceness of man, as wool meets iron more easily than iron meets wool, and turns resisting into embracing. Her kindness of heart is apparent in every action, for she has no guilty designs to conceal. Her manners are not formed by any fixed rule, but bend to the occasion. She has so much knowledge as to love it; and for deficiency in this respect, she will sometimes, in a pleasant discontent, chide her sex. She lives at home, and adopts outward things to her taste, not her taste to them. She dresses well, but not beyond what decency absolutely requires in her station. Her mind is so happily constituted, that she does not seek a husband, but finds him. Description is soon exhausted when there is no variety of ill. When married, her chief sentiment is love for her husband; and his advantage is henceforth the end of her actions."pp. 85, 86. "A Fine Lady. "She is distinguished from man by two striking particulars-deficiency of strength and understanding. She simpers, as if indeed she had lips but no teeth. She divides her eyes, keeping one half for herself, and the other for the most modish gentleman of her acquaintance. Being seated, she casts her face into a platform, which lasts during the whole meal. She drinks according to good manners, not according to thirst, and it is a part of their mystery not to profess hunger. She reads over her face every morning, and sometimes blots out pale, and writes red. She believes herself fair, although frequently her opinion has the advantage of being singular; and she loves her glass and candle-light for lying. Her head is covered with ornaments and devices, like a tavern, to attract strangers. Her philosophy is an affected neglect of those who are too good for her. Her wit is very trifling, and it is uttered in treble tones, which are nevertheless too powerful for it. She gains much by the simplicity of her suitor, and for a jest she laughs at him without one. Thus she dresses a husband for herself, and afterwards takes him for his pa-tience. Her chief commendation is, she brings a man to repentance. Her devotion consists in fashionable and splendid habits, which carry her to church, express their costliness, and are silent. If she be more devout, she lifts up a certain number of eyes instead of prayers-and takes the sermon, and measures out a slumber by it, of just the same length. She sends religion onwards to sixty, where she never overtakes it, or drives it before her again. In conclusion, she is delivered to old age and a chair, where every body leaves her.”—pp. 86, 87. "An Affected Traveller. "He is a speaking fashion. Ĥe has taken infinite pains to be ridiculous, and has seen more than he has perceived. He censures every thing by gestures and shrugs, and speaks his own language with shame and lisping. He would rather be esteemed a spy, than not a politician; and maintains his reputation by naming great men familiarly. He makes opportunity of exhibiting jewels given to him for his splendid endowments, which were bought in St. Martin's; and not long after, having with a mountebank's method pronounced them worth thousands, he pledges them for a few shillings. On gala-days he goes to court, and salutes without return. At night, in an ordinary, he canvasses state affairs, and seems as conversant with all designs and cabinet councils, as if he projected them. He disdains all things above his grasp, and prefers every country to his own. He imputes his obscurity to that want of discernment which distinguishes the times; and breaks off in the midst of a sentence, leaving the rest to imagination. His religion is fashion, and both body and soul are governed by fame. He loves most voices better than that of truth."-pp. 90, 91. "A Noble Spirit "Has surveyed and fortified his disposition, and converts every thing that occurs into experience. He regulates his purposes, and sees the end before he shoots. Men are the instruments of his art, and there is no man without his use. He loves glory, scorns shame, and governs and obeys with one countenance-for both actions proceed from one reflection. He calls not the variety of the world chances, for his meditation has travelled over them; and his eye, mounted upon his understanding, sees them as things underneath. Truth is his goddess, and he takes pains to obtain her, not to look like her. Knowing the circle of all courses, of all intents, of all things, to have but one centre or period, without any distraction he hastes thither and ends there, as his true and natural element. To mankind in general he is a sun, whose clearness directs their steps in regular motion; of the wise man he is the friend; of the indifferent an example; of the vicious a reproof. Thus time goes not from him, but with him, and he feels age more by the strength of his soul, than the weakness of his body: thus he feels no pain, but esteems all such things as friends, that desire to file off his fetters, and help him out of prison."-pp. 92, 93. "A Mere Scholar. "He speaks sentences more familiarly than sense. The antiquity of his university is his creed-and the excellence of his college, his faith. He speaks Latin better than his native language, and is a stranger in no part of the world but his own country. His ambition is, that he either is, or shall be, a graduate; but if ever he get a fellowship, he has then no fellow. His tongue goes always before his wit, like a gentleman-usher, but somewhat faster. He is able to speak more with ease, than any man can endure to hear with patience. University jests are his universal discourse, and his news the demeanour of the proctors. His phrase, the apparel of his mind, is made of divers shreds, like a cushion. The current of his speech is closed with an ergo; and whatever be the question, the truth is on his side. It is an injury to his reputation to be ignorant of any thing; and yet he knows not that he knows nothing. He gives directions for husbandry from Virgil's Georgics; for cattle, from his Bucolis; for warlike stratagems, from his Æneid, or Cæsar's Commentaries. He is led more by his ears than his understanding, taking the sound of words for their true sense; and therefore, confidently believes, that Erra Pater was the father of heretics-Rodolphus Agricola, a substantial farmer; and will not hesitate to affirm, that Systema's logic excels Keckerman's. His misfortune consists not so much in being a fool, as in being put to such pains to express it to the world: for what in others is natural, in him is artificial. His poverty is his happiness, for it makes some men believe he is not one of fortune's favourites. He is the index of a man, and the title-page of a scholar, or a puritan in morality,—much in profession, nothing in practice."-pp. 95, 97. "An Excellent Actor. "Whatever is commendable in the grave orator, is most exquisitely perfect in him; for by a full and significant action of body he charms our attention. Sit in a full theatre, and you will think you see so many lines drawn from the circumference of so many ears, whilst the actor is the centre. He does not strive to make nature monstrous; she is often seen in the same scene with him, but neither on stilts nor crutches. His voice is not lower than the prompter's, nor louder than the foil and target. By his action he fortifies moral precepts with example; for what we see him personate, we think truly done before us. He adds grace to the poet's labours; for what in the poet is but words, in him is both words and music. All men have been of his occupation: and, indeed, what he does feignedly, that others do essentially: this day one plays a monarch; the next, a private person. Here one acts a tyrant; on the morrow, an exile. I observe, of all men living, a skilful actor in one kind is the strongest motive of affection that can be: for when he dies, we cannot be persuaded that any man can perform his characters like him. But to conclude, I value a worthy actor by the corruption of some few of that profession, as I would do gold in the ore; I should not mind the dross, but the purity of the metal."-pp. 100, 101. We are glad to observe the air of unaffected piety which appears in this work. The descriptions of character are in general natural and affecting, and all is made to harmonize with the important truth, that man's chief business here below is to fulfil the station allotted him by the Lord of Creation. ITALIAN POETRY. IT has been well remarked by Foscolo, and it is a circumstance which appears to have escaped the attention of the generality of critics, that some of the finest passages in the Italian poetry of Petrarch derive their origin from the sacred writings. Thus, E femmisi all' incontra A mezza via, come nemico armato.-P. 2, Son. 47. "So shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man."—Prov. c. xxiv. v. 34. 66 E la cetera mia rivolta è in pianto.-P. 1. Son. 24. My harp is also turned to mourning."-Job c. xxx. v. 31. Qual grazia, qual amore, o qual destino Mi darà penne a guisa di colomba, Ch' io mi riposi, e levimi da terra ?-P. 1. Son. 60. "O that I had wings like a dove! for then would I flee away, and be at rest."-Psalm lv. v. 5. "A woman clothed with the sun-and upon her head a crown of twelve stars."-Revel. c. xii. 1, 2. POETRY. THE following pathetic story is from Mr. Rogers' beautiful poem of" Italy." The unfortunate Ginevra was the subject of an interesting picture by Zampieri, shewn in a palace formerly inhabited by the Donati, at Modena. She was an only child-her name Ginevra, Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue. Great was the joy; but at the nuptial feast, Weary of his life Full fifty years were past, and all forgotten, That mouldering chest was noticed: and 'twas said, 66 Why not remove it from its lurking place?" With here and there a pearl, an emerald stone, There then had she found a grave! CONFESSIONS OF A BLUE BAG.* "THE meditation of revenge," continued the Bag, "is of all things the most senseless and ridiculous. It not only keeps alive the remembrance of injuries which were, perhaps, unintentional, but it revives them with additional force, and inflicts them again and again, with a poignancy and aggravation, which our most inveterate enemies are incapable of imparting to them. Those who harbour revenge must bid adieu to ease and gladness, to the delights of social intercourse, and the blessings of inward serenity; for that monstrous passion cannot subsist without strife and discontent. Its only aim is the injury of another, and to compass that no baseness is deemed too low, no self-torment too severe. The revengeful are criminal without temptation, they punish themselves for the offences of others; and, to gain a momentary triumph, they sacrifice health, profit, tranquillity, happiness, or whatever else impedes the accomplishment of their vindictive purposes. So dead are they to all sense of propriety, that they feel but little chagrin at the ridicule which awaits the failure of their impotent rage; or at the detestation called forth by their unhallowed successes." Finding the orator disposed to enlarge upon this topic, I pulled him by the string, and begging a thousand pardons for the interruption, expressed my concurrence with his notions, but hinted that if he would resume his confessions, I could moralize for myself as he proceeded; upon which he continued as follows : "It happened that, in the course of the Counsellor's stamping fit, he wore away a knot, in the thread which secured my right side. Of this circumstance, though it was a serious one for me, he took no heed; being too much elated with his successful debut to throw away a thought upon my pitiable condition. The thing may seem trivial to you, Sir, but have patience to mark the consequences. On our return to town, my gentleman found that his reputation had travelled more rapidly than himself: although we came by the mail, yet many professional friends were prepared to greet him with hearty congratulations on the delivery of his speech, which the newspapers had already made them acquainted with. Briefs began to flow in apace, and as they were daily thrust upon me, I purposely, and with infinite pain, exposed my weak side to them, till in the course of time, stitch yielded after stitch, and an aperture was formed large enough for the expulsion of any slip of paper, such as is used for memoranda, the loss of which I conceived would inconvenience my master almost sufficiently to afford me a complete retaliation. "I had, however, long to wait for an opportunity of carrying this mischievous scheme into execution: for his notes, consisting chiefly of extraets from large volumes, were carefully folded between their leaves. But he one day threw in both book and notes, with such unfeeling violence, as made me shake from top to base, and, at the same time, caused the book to open and the note paper to get loose. This precious slip I softly and secretly drove to the yawning orifice; and as the clerk who carried me went through the Adelphi, in his way to Westminster, I hurled it with a vengeance down one of those bottomless areas. Exulting in the mischief I had committed, I amused myself during the remainder of the walk with picturing the dismay that would seize upon the * Concluded from p. 21. VOL. I. NO. III.-Sixth Edition. D |