women, and men being all men, one good account of the tender interest they may excite in each other, is equal to a thousand. Who does not shudder to think of the unwearying cruelty with which the firmament of heaven has been persecuted, to represent blue eyes! What an interminable consumption has there not been of the raw material the west wind to be manufactured into sighs! What a tremendous run upon every green bank for roses, to be changed into the favourite currency of blushes! How many myriads of heads of hair, or rather of wigs, have been made out of sunbeams! What a waste of pearl, to secure a sufficient supply of that staple commoding, called teeth! Even beauty must cease to please, -must cease to be considered beautiful-if for so many ages its constituent features have been so indubitably ascertained. How can I be expected to fall over head and ears in love with Matilda Amelia Elizabeth Fitz Oriel-decidedly the prettiest girl in the town of if I find, by referring to my circulating library, that her eye is not one tint bluer, her blush not one shade deeper, her hair not one gleam brighter, than the eyes, blushes, and hair of all females, in all corners of the globe, and in all periods, have always been ? The evil of which we complain pervades all space, and extends itself to every object with which we are acquainted. We are shut in by an atmosphere, to which belongs an equally fatal influence over animate and inanimate creation. The children of Galgacus made snowballs, and so do ours; the first Druids sang sonnets to the moon, and so do we. Helen eloped with Paris, and we have still our Doctors' Commons. People died under King Pelops, and their friends lamented their loss; tears are shed, and cambric handkerchiefs are used, at funerals even now. The respectable burgesses of Memphis gave exceedingly pleasant evening parties a few years after the flood; and among their descendants, eating and drinking, dancing and fiddling, are still considered fashionable amusements. There were races at the Olympic Games equal to those for the Great St Leger; there were lectures delivered in Plato's Academy, not much inferior to any which may be heard at Oxford or Aberdeen; Bonaparte was only a second edition of Cæsar; and Cæsar was only a copy of Alexander; and Alexander was a mere imitator of Cyrus; and Cyrus borrowed all his best notions from Nimrod. Do we weep? Who has not wept before us, inspired by the very same grief? Do we laugh? The joke is as old as the hills; it set the table in a roar in the time of Osiris. Are we ambitious? So were all the great men, whose names nobody ever heard, who lived in Palmyra. Do we fall in love? The object of our admiration is the very fac-simile of ten thousand young ladies, who married ten thousand young men, and became the mothers of ten thousand families, before the downfall of Babylon. Are we anxious to make ourselves wise, and to be the instructors of mankind? The acquisitions of ninety years will be but a trifling portion of that knowledge with which our ancestors were familiar ninety centuries ago. Do we wish to cultivate the imagination? Tribes of husbandmen have been upon the field before us, and the soil is exhausted. There are just two ways by which we can be saved from the morbid listlessness-the dead swampy apathywhich a conviction of the monotony of all things must necessarily produce. The first is, by an entire change in the external universe; and the second is, by leaving external nature as it is, but effecting a complete revolution in the sentiments and ideas of all mankind concerning it. It is worth while considering, for a moment, both plans. If the external universe were to undergo a revision and alteration, sufficient to remove the ground of our present complaint, it would need to be borne in mind that no partial change would do,-nothing could be listened to but a sweeping and radical reform,—a total destruction of the old constitution, and the establish ment of an order of things so new, that, to our ancient prejudices, it might at first sight appear strange and ludicrous. That my meaning may be more clearly understood, I would make these suggestions among others. Let all the stars be knocked out, and most especially the evening and morning stars, which have become so disgustingly common-place. Perhaps some of them might be strung into necklaces, and ladies seventeen miles high might wear them about their necks. The moon should be stowed away with all expedition, and not another line allowed to be written even to her memory. The sun, after being carefully extinguished, might be made into a great steam-coach, that would carry a million of passengers round the world before breakfast. If so vulgar a thing as light was required at all, the Gas Company could easily manu facture rainbows of variegated lamps, and hang them in festoons through the firmament. There should be men and women of all shapes and sizes,—some, round as oranges, with the power of rolling themselves along like great bowls with or without a bias ;-some, like squares or parallelo. grams, as full of sharp corners as an old-fashioned house, and supporting life, not by breathing, but by apertures, resembling chimneys, from which smoke should issue; -some no larger than drumsticks, and others so high, that their heads would be far beyond the ordinary range of vision, unless when they went into the depths of the ocean to bathe, when the waves would rise almost to their shoulders, and the whales would pass in shoals between their legs. The sea should be of boiling water, and all the fish should be ready for eating; and raw oysters be a thing to dream of, not to sell. There should be several cast-iron, stone, and wooden bridges across the Atlantic; Mr Owen's establishment at New Harmony should be the capital of the world; and there should be a chain of mountains, called the Mountains of Phrenology, higher than the Andes, consisting wholly of human skulls. Thunder, and lightning, and wind, should be laid on the shelf; storms should have new features, and might be manufactured out of the bursting of mountains, the crashing of red-hot ice-bergs, the bellowing of monsters that passed through the air, like great balloons, and the pelting of church-steeples, old castles, tombstones, coffins, dead birds, monks of the Inquisition, washing-tubs, and skeletons. Forests should be all cut down, and green meadows all ploughed up; if people wanted to hunt, they should hunt through the air, or under the sea. As for evening or morning walks, or tours to the Continent, or poetical musings on the beauties of nature, such things might exist, but "with a difference," as Ophelia says; for the walks, and the tours, and the musings, would not present the same eternal round of objects and ideas. There would be no such thing as an odious, glaring sunrise, or a great unmeaning cream-faced moon; there would be no distressing classical associations about Italy or Greece; and dabblers in rhyme would not be constantly borrowing from each other, at least until the new state of things became again old. It is not impossible, however, that these changes may be considered impracticable; and if so, the other plan I have hinted at is still at hand. My second mode for securing the attainment of that greatest of all blessings, ORIGINALITY-is simply, to change the nature of the human mind, to alter the standard of taste, to abrogate the old, and to introduce a set of fresh canons by which to regulate our notions, both of material combinations, and of moral and intellectual beauty, worth, and fitness. This might be done with less trouble, and would be quite as efficient as the scheme already proposed. Would there not, for example, be a delightful novelty in having all our old notions of virtue and vice swept away at once? People have been praising courage, and justice, and honour, and benevolence, and all that sort of thing, so incessantly, that every one knows the furniture of a good character as exactly as an upholsterer knows the furniture of a gentleman's draw ing-room. This is melancholy; and it is not less melancholy that no great villain possesses an idiosyncrasy of his own, but that they are all, without a single exception, cunning, ungrateful, ferocious, selfish, and impious. This should be altered. Epic poets should choose for their heroes the younger sons of Irish emigrants, born in some of the least fashionable houses of the parish of St Giles; they should dwell with delight on their neglected education, luxuriate in pleasing descriptions of their tattered poverty, and celebrate their glorious contempt of all shockingly honest industry; they should paint in the most bewitching colours the lady of their love, whose young heart beat with a passionate fondness for gin-twist, and whose delicate fingers rejoiced to play about a gentleman's fob, or in his sidepockets; they should follow with a noble ardour the lofty subject of their verse from one degree of manly wickedness to another, till he at length reigned over an affectionate and admiring world, and, for the greater glory, made a gallows his throne, and the hangman his prime minister. How infinitely superior would such a production be to those maudlin and hackneyed compositions in which the bravery of an Achilles, the piety of an Eneas, or the constancy of a Rinaldo, are so stupidly lauded! So long as we retained our present antiquated mental constitution, it might perhaps be difficult for us fully to enter into the spirit of such a poem; but, as soon as that was changed, its beauties would shine conspicuous. Every moment of existence-every thought-every feeling would now be new, and, consequently, worth living for. We should no longer hear of murmuring streams, or shady groves, or warbling birds, or blue skies, or gentle zephyrs, or any other set of epithets equally loathsome, because all equally trite. In describing a fine landscape, the traveller or novelist might write thus, and, in thus writing, would address himself to the sympathies of every reader :-" It was a day of dark and cloudy beauty, in that most enchanting month December; an agreeable and heavy shower was falling; the air was in that most delicious of all states, when it is not cold enough to condense rain into hail, but is too cold to admit of its remaining purely liquid, and converts it, therefore, into sleet. There was not an ugly green leaf on any of the trees; the birds were, fortunate ly, all silent, with the exception of a jackdaw and a peacock, whose mingled melody came full upon the ear. The insignificant sea was visible in the distance, but its sickening water was forgotten, for the eye rested upon a majestic steam-boat with seven funnels, out of which came a glorious canopy of smoke, suggesting, even on the barren ocean, some of those snug and cheerful feelings the stranger experiences on coming, for the first time, within sight of beautiful Leeds, or romantic Manchester. In the foreground there was an Irish village, with a row of pig-styes at one end, and a churchyard at the other, all in a state of fine decay, and exciting emotions so sublime, that the enraptured and awestruck spectator, after laughing for half an hour, could not help dancing an Indian war-dance, and at last, overpowered by his feelings, walking a dozen paces backward on his hands and feet, and then bursting into a tear!" Upon the same principles might be written a description of a lady, "made to engage all hearts, and charm all eyes.""The heroine of my tale-the lovely Snifterina Gogglegrumph-had all the constituents of perfect beauty. Her eyes, which in their expression differed considerably from each other, were both of a delicate green; and Nature, as if unwilling that any one object should ever be honoured with the united gaze of two such orbs, gave to Snifterina the power of looking east and west, or north and south, at the same moment, and thus of killing, as sportsmen technically term it, both right and left. She had a nose angelically flattened upon her face towards the centre, but rising at the lower end into a knob of exquisite rotundity. Her mouth had that slight twist which all sculptors and painters love to imitate; and the bluish whiteness of her lips contrasted finely with the blackening grandeur of her teeth. Her classical chin was sharp and long, throwing into the shade her thin neck, which rose gracefully, almost like a continuation of her slender body. Miss Gogglegrumph's head having been skilfully shaved, only one little tuft remained as a love-lock upon the very top; and many a noble youth looked at that love-lock and sighed. But it was not Snifterina's ineffable smile, nor the squeaking clearness of her irresistible voice, nor all the charins of her matchless person, that delighted most :--it was her mind, entirely unhurt as that mind bad been, by any attempt at education. Yet was she not destitute of accomplishments. She could sing the comic songs of all languages; she was alike at home in the sciences of farriery and rat-catching; and few could surpass her in the healthful and elegant exercise of eating and drinking; she was so prudent, that the only thing she did not keep was her temper; and she was never known to lose any thing except her judgment. A report was at one time industriously circulated, that she had been observed to blush; but we can positively contradict the uncharitable calumny. Such was the fascinating Snifterina,amiably pert, fashionably insolent, naturally affected, rationally conceited, independently masculine, and, in short, lost in a blaze of all those virtues which adorn a woman." For authors and publishers, in particular, these will indeed be happy times, when originality will thus be born anew. The reviews may probably speak somewhat in the following style of a work which may have recently issued from the press :-"This is an able production. There is not a single sentiment in the whole we ever met with in any known author. Most of the words, indeed, are new; and the style is as diametrically opposed to all the rules of Aristotle, Longinus, Quinctilian, Blair, and Campbell, as the most fastidious critic could desire. We observe several parentheses of twenty pages; and we think there are only three separate sentences in all the four volumes. This is as it should be. The reader's attention is thus riveted, and the majestic flow of the English language is preserved. No one should venture to begin this book with an empty stomach; for, as the end of the first sentence is somewhere about the middle of the second volume, and as it is impossible to leave off till this point be gained, the consequences upon a weak constitution might be dangerous. The subject which the author principally insists upon is, the interesting one of damp sheets a theme more intimately connected with all the sublimest doctrines of philosophy than, perhaps, any other. The chapter upon warming-pans is, in our estimation, the finest; but there are besides several admirable digressions (if they can be called so) upon the high intellectual character of idiots, upon the notorious honesty of that most useful class of the community, somewhat oddly termed pickpockets, and upon mousetraps, silk stockings, the female sex, hatters, patriots, landed property, and bellows-menders. On the whole, we can safely recommend this book, as admirably adapt ed for the use of schools, members of parliament, and medical gentlemen." I have thus only thrown out a few crude hints, which will, nevertheless, serve to evince my earnest desire that an entire change should immediately take place in the nature of things, both for the sake of that most exhausted portion of human beings called authors, and those other respectable persons, no less to be pitied, called readers. The prosecution of the design I must leave in the hands of the legislature, and the country at large. That a connexion with all that is stale, flat, and common-place has increased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished, no sensible man can doubt. But that a crusade is even now commencing, which will put an end to this stagnant condition of the world and its inhabitants, there is every reason to believe. All existing popular authors will pass away with a great noise; and all the libraries of the earth, stuffed with the monotonous lore of worn-out brains, will be burned to the dust. A new epoch will commence. The Nile, having been traced from its mountain spring to its ocean mouths, will be deserted; and fame will float down the more devious wanderings of the unknown and incomprehensible Ni ger. THE DRAMA. THE last week has produced no dramatic novelty of importance; and the pieces which have been played have for the most part been of very ephemeral interest. We regret therefore the less that it is not in our power to de vote any space to their consideration. A new Christmas pantomime is in preparation, which we are glad of, were it only for the sake of the good old times, when Christmas was, in real earnest, a season of merry-making. Even yet it is the season when elderly people indulge in a glass of wine additional, and talk over the days that are gone; and children eat plum-cake, and are happy. WEEKLY LIST OF PERFORMANCES. SAT. Mason of Buda, Aloyse, & He Lies like Truth. TUES Mason of Buda, Aloyse, & For England Ho! THUR Green-eyed Monster, Aloyse. & Legend of Montrose. ORIGINAL POETRY. MY FAIRY ELLEN. By Henry G. Bell. BEAUTIFUL moon! wilt thou tell me where Is it on some rich bank of flowers, Where 'neath each blossom a fay lies dreaming? Or is it on yonder silver lake, Where the fish in green and gold are sparkling? Or is it among those ancient trees Where the tremulous shadows move soft and darkling ? "O no!" said the moon, with a playful smile, "The best of my beams are for ever dwelling In the exquisite eyes so deeply blue, And the eloquent glance of the fairy Ellen." Gentlest of zephyrs! pray tell me how Thou lovest to spend a serene May morning, O'er its pebbly channel so gaily rippling? Is it in sipping the nectar that lies In the bells of the flowers,-an innocent tippling ?"O no!" said the zephyr, and softly sigh'd, His voice with a musical melody swelling, "All the morning of May mong the ringlets I play, That dance on the brow of the fairy Ellen." White little lily! pray tell me when Thy happiest moments the Fates allow thee? Thou seem'st a favourite with bees and men, And all the boys and butterflies know thee ;Is it at dawn or at sunset hour, That pleasantest fancies are o'er thee stealing? One would think thee a poet, to judge by thy looks, Or at least a pale-faced Man of Feeling ;"O no!" said the lily, and slightly blush'd, "My highest ambition's to be sweet smelling, To live in the sight, and to die on the breast, Of the fairest of beings, the fairy Ellen." O! would that I were the moon myself, Or a balmy zephyr fresh fragrance breathing; Or a white-crown'd lily, my slight green stem Slyly around that dear neck wreathing ;Worlds would I give to bask in those eyes,— Stars, if I had them, for one of those tresses,— My heart, and my soul, and my body to boot, For merely the smallest of all her kisses; And if she would love me, O heaven and earth! I would not be Jove, the cloud-compelling, Though he offer'd me Juno and Venus both, In exchange for one smile of my fairy Ellen. STANZAS On reading " The Last Man," a Poem, by Thomas Campbell, Esq. in which are described the condition and feelings of one who is supposed to survive the dissolution of the globe. By Dr Memes, Author of the "Life of Canova," &c. THE last man!-the being who outlives In darkness and in death expire; Ah! too soon we feel our sad estate Few years absolve our rounds of fate; Our hearts declare we are alone; But wrecks and ruins of happier days; Each kind bosom has its little sphere→→ Its hopes-its joys all centre here; In this mystic bound alone we view All that is dear-or fair-or true! When o'er its world the tempests roll, Which is with home-felt grief opprest; Nor can aught consolatory prove, If time our bosom's sphere destroy. SONNET To Thomas Campbell, Esq. on his first election to the office of Lord Rector of the University of Glasgow. where his labours are conspicuous, in having, within a very few years, converted a park of no attractions, into one of the loveliest spots in Scotland.' Comments on Corpulence, Lineaments of Leanness, Mems. and Maxims on Diet, and Dietetics, by William Wadd, Esq. have just appeared. Battle of Navarin.-We have seen the Panorama of the Battle of Navarin with much pleasure. It is not very finely painted, but the effect produced is distinct and impressive. A military band serves to strengthen the illusion of the scene; and the person who describes the different pictures, takes care to inspire a proper degree of patriotism, by pronouncing the usual encomiums on British valour, and philippies against Turkish cruelty, Theatrical Gossip.-A new Drama in two acts, by Mr Planché, entitled "Charles the Twelfth," has been produced, with much success, at Drury Lane.-A Miss Nelson has appeared at Covent Garden as Peggy, in the "Country Girl;" some of the London critics say she will supply Mrs Jordan's place, and others say she will do no such thing.-Kean has played Virginius with great suecess:-Miss Jarman was the Virginia, and Ward the Appius. -Weekes has got a three years' engagement at Drury Lane.-A very splendid Melo-Drama has been got up at the Adelphi, called "The Earthquake, or the Phantom of the Nile." The music is How strange, my friend, when life we backward trace! by Rodwell, who is also the composer of the music in "The Ma- Thence didst thou early soar the height which it Prompted, while round thee HoPE's young visions flit. Now, after many years, thy brilliant race Of glory gains the seat of proudest name In thine own Glasgow,-lower yet than Fame Has long assign'd thee in the foremost ranks Of Britain's bards!-Ask not my tale: I sate Beside thee, Censor-no mean vaunt; and Fate, That lets me see thy triumphs, has my thanks. May 15, 1827. R. M. son of Buda," which has lately been performed here.-The following are the words of the song "Away, love, away," which has been so popular in the new drama of "Aloyse;" they are simple, and in excellent keeping with the music, which, we understand, is about to be published in London : Away, Love, away! My heart, my heart's too gay To yield, to yield to thee! I change as the wind, Which thou canst not bind My heart-my will as free! Thro' the fields I rove, No bird so gay as I; Where violets spring These words I sing, Love, little rogue, you may fly! LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES. THE second volume of Wodrow's History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland, edited by Dr Burns, will speedily be published. Brown's Self-interpreting Bible is in the press, with the marginal references revised, and numerous additional ones introduced, with occasional notes, illustrative of Geography, Manners, Customs, &c. A concise Dictionary, and complete Index to the Bible, are subjoined. We are informed that this edition will be at once the most correct and beautiful which has yet issued from the press. Captain Basil Hall's Travels in North America, in three vols. will appear soon. There is preparing for publication, Aquat e Excursions throughout the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and Ireland, and various parts of the Continent, with maps and plans, in one volume duodecimo. A Highland gentleman is at present engaged in translating Mr R. Chambers' History of the Rebellion of 1745 into Gaelic, which will shortly appear.-We understand that a French translation of the Life of Mary Queen of Scots, recently published in Constable's Miscellany, is also in preparation. It is announced in the Literary Gazette, that Mrs Norton's Sorrows of Rosalie have rapidly run through a first edition; and the editor adds," Thus, in spite of the outery that poetry is a drug, we now find that it is a drug which sells as well as any other kind of literature." Mr Crofton Croker's Sayings and Doings at Killarney are on the eve of appearance. They are the record, we understand, of the author's personal adventures at the lakes, and contain all the jokes, stories, songs, and sketches, which he uttered, collected, sung, or designed, during his sojourn there. The work is to contain, besides, a narrative of Sir Walter Scott's, Lockhart's, and Miss Edgeworth's visit to the lakes, to the latter of whom Mr Croker has dedicated the book. Moral and Sacred Poetry, selected from the works of the most admired authors, ancient and modern, is in the press. The works of Dr Samuel Parr, with Memoirs of his Life and Writings, and a selection from his Correspondence, have just appeared, edited by Dr John Johnstone. The work has reached the formidable size of eight volumes, octavo. A second edition of the Planter's Guide, by Sir Henry Steuart, has just been published. A contemporary critic justly remarks, that "no country gentleman, no landed proprietor, no ornamentor of grounds, no man of taste in landscape, no one above the ordinary rank of life which confines to towns and handicrafts, can add a more useful or agreeable companion to his book-shelf than this able treatise by the worthy Laird and improver of Allanton, * As Censor of the Greek class. TO OUR READERS. It gives us no small pleasure to have it in our power to add the name of Allan Cunningham to the list of those eminent authors whom we have already marshalled as contributors to the " Edinburgh Literary Journal," and from all of whom communications will be found in our next, or Christmas Number. TO OUR CORRESPONDENTS. lingly publish; but not until we have the author's permission to THE Letter by a "North-country Schoolmaster" we shall wilexpunge one or two personalities into which he has allowed himself to be betrayed, and which do not bear upon the matter in To our fair English correspondent," Caroline," we have to requestion. We should also like to be favoured with his name.turn our thanks for the interest she expresses in the success of our work. losing the benefit of being able to send the "Journal" free by post. The alteration she proposes could not be made, without -We are obliged to "W. R." for his politeness in sending us tragedy is too old now to be reviewed, and we suspect we differ a "Rienzi;" but we had a copy previously in our possession. The little from our correspondent regarding its merits. His copy lies for him at our Publisher's.-" D. C.'s" Highland Legend is scarcely original or striking enough.-The same remark applies to the story of the Smuggler, by "W. S."-" J. W." hardly comes up to our standard. "The Italian Peasant's Farewell to his Native Valley" is not new to us; but the author is older now, and can write better things." L. L.'s" German translation is well executed; but the common-place a style.-The Verses of our Hamilton Correspondoriginal is on too common-place a subject, which is treated in too ent possess merit; but not enough to entitle them to a place."The Bandit's Soliloquy" is in a similar predicament. We regret we can give " Tom Bowline," who seems an honest fellow, no better answer." Amelia" and "C. N." will not suit us. We have to repeat our wish, that our Correspondents will, as often as possible, furnish us with their names, and give us permission to make use of them, if we insert their communications. We believe some little inaccuracies have occurred in the delivery of the" Edinburgh Literary Journal;" but these are to be attributed entirely to the confusion necessarily connected, to a certain degree, with the arrangements of a new work. We trust our readers will have no cause of complaint in future; and, on any occasion, a note addressed to the Publishers will meet with the most prompt attention. LITERARY CRITICISM. Letters from the West, containing Sketches of Scenery, We do not like the spirit in which this book is written. An American has a right to be as patriotic as he pleases; but he has no right to be arrogant or impertinent towards that country from which he and his nation have originally sprung. It is true, that North America is now a great and an independent state; and it is also true, that it has not unfrequently been made to suffer under the taunts of narrow-minded and illiberal Englishmen, who visited it with feelings of chagrin and disappointment, simply because they were no longer able to call it their own. But this spirit is rapidly dying out, and ought never to have been encouraged. At the very worst, however, it was more justifiable on the part of any of the inhabitants of the mother country, than of those of its quondam colony. They long stood in a relation to each other somewhat similar to that of parent and child; and even yet, Great Britain is entitled to all the respect which maturity naturally obtains from youth, and to the superior weight which a long-established and admirably balanced constitution must give to her political principles and opinions, over those of a people still raw and inexperienced in the art of government. It is to Great Britain, indeed, that the United States owe every thing. They may, no doubt, by their own exertions, ultimately crown themselves with glory; but, though they are now no longer in leading-strings, it would be worse than ingratitude, were they to turn with the serpent's tooth upon the nurse of their infancy. be born a freeman; the American only is bred a free man. The latter has this blessing in possession; while the former cherishes a vague tradition of its achievement, which is contradicted by the records of his country, and the practice of his rulers." This is trash which, if it does not make a man laugh, is very apt to make him angry. We have no objections whatever to hear America lauded as the very pet land of freedom; but when a Yankee, not conten ed with this assertion, starts up to tell us that we ourselves are all bondmen, and that our constitution is a system of despotism from beginning to end, we confess we should feel a "pretty particular" pleasure in knocking him down with a roll of Magna Charta. But it is not on the score of liberty alone, albeit it is a theme on which, we doubt not, Judge Hall could talk till "crack of doom," that he thinks it proper to attack us. Our national character he conceives peculiarly obnoxious to the shafts of his wit; and in Letter VI., as well as frequently throughout the book, he thus writes concerning it :-"The fact is, that English travellers, and English people in general, who come anong us, forget that the rest of the world are not as credulous and gullible as themselves, and are continually attempting to impose fictions upon us, which we refuse to credit. They seem not to be aware that we are a reading people, and would convince us that they are a wise, valiant, and virtuous people, beloved and respected by all the world; while we are an ignorant, idle set of boobies, for whom nobody cares a farthing. John Bull for. gets that his own vanity is a source of merriment with the rest of the world." How very cutting this is! and how admirably descriptive of the general dispositions of Englishmen! How continually are they trying to im. pose upon the Americans! and how supreme is the contempt with which that "reading people" listens to their fabrications! But Judge Hall having thus ably expounded the British national character, the reader may, perhaps, wish to receive, from the same high authority, Now, Judge Hall's book is full of petty insinuations a trait or two of American character. In Letter XV. we and sarcasms against the British, which induce us to meet with these memorable words :-" There is no peothink very favourably neither of Judge Hall's heart nor ple in the world whose national character is better dehead. His insinuations are, in most cases, untrue, and fined, or more strongly marked, than our own. If the in all unnecessary. We shall particularize one or two, European theory on this subject be correct," (a theory by way of specimen. In Letter I. we are informed, that of straw, which Judge Hall very valiantly combats,)" is "The tumults of Europe have driven hither (to Ameri- it not a little strange, that our Yankee tars, whether on ca) crowds of unhappy beings, whose homes have been board a frigate or a privateer, should always happen to rendered odious or unsafe by the mad ambition of a few play the same game when they come athwart an Engaspiring sovereigns. Here is no Holy Alliance traffick-lishman? Is it not a little singular, that Brown in the ing in human blood, no sceptre to be obeyed, no mitre to be worshipped." This is vulgar cant; as if the poor emigrants whom poverty drives across the Atlantic had been frightened out of Europe by the Emperor of Russia or the Pope; or as if the greater proportion of the "unhappy beings" did not know just as little about the aspiring sovereigns," and the "mad ambition," of which Judge Hall complains, as the Red Indians do. But our author proceeds," Here they learn the practical value of that liberty which they only knew before in theory. They learn here, that the Englishman may north, and Jackson in the south, who, I suspect, never saw each other in their lives, should always happen to handle Lord Wellington's veterans exactly after the same fashion? Accidents will happen in the best of families; but when an accident occurs in the same family repeatedly, we are apt to suspect that it runs in the blood." This was, no doubt, considered a very pointed peroration; but we should just like to whisper "friendly in the ear" of Judge Hall, that a peroration is always most effective when it is based on truth and that if he means to insinuate that an American frigate or privateer always |