complete religious freedom and equality; the assertion of man's natural right to expatriate himself at will; and the restriction (to which his efforts ultimately led, though his own bill was premature) of the punishment of death to treason and murder these are a part, and only a part, of the benefits for which his native state, Virginia, has to venerate his memory. Well did he deserve, and well did he occupy, the elevation which he afterwards attained, the noblest to which political ambition cau aspire, that of the Chief Magistrate of united nations by the people's choice. And appropriately did his long career of consistent patriotism close on the fiftieth anniversary of that Independence which his own pen first proclaimed. That was indeed a day on which his spirit might depart in peace.

The two volumes now before us are only part of a more extended publication from Mr. Jefferson's papers, projected by the Editor. They contain a brief autobiographical sketch (of 94 pages) terminating abruptly at the commencement of the year 1790, and Correspondence up to about the same time, with various illustrative documents in the form of Appendices. The memoir appears to have been written for private use only; it commences with the following memorandum :

January 6, 1821. At the age of seventy-seven, I begin to make some memoranda, and state some recollections of dates and facts concerning myself, for my own more ready reference, and for the information of my family."

The most curious parts of the Memoirs are the debates in Congress on the question of Independence, taken down, in a compressed form, at the time, by Mr. Jefferson; and the original draft of the Declaration, together with the variations which were made previous to its adoption. Some of these shew the intervention of very cautious and practical men; as the omission of the word "inherent," as applied to "rights;" the substitution of "repeated" for "unremitting injuries and usurpations" ascribed to the King; and several alterations of a similar description. One or two passages appear to have been rejected as too oratorical for the dignified character of the document. A strong reprobation of the African slave trade" was struck out in complaisance to South Carolina and Georgia" (I. p. 16); and in the conclusion was introduced an expression of "reliance on the protection of Divine Providence." The writer's piety, we

fear, whatever it might be in the later years of his life, was then at rather a low ebb; and there is one letter in the Correspondence, dated Aug. 10, 1787, (Vol. II. p. 215,) which while it properly recommends the boldest and fullest inquiry, on religious matters, to the young man to whom it was addressed, sufficiently indicates the hostility of the writer's opinions, at that period, to the claims of Divine Revelation. We have not observed any thing else, of the same tendency, in these volumes.

Altogether, the work will rather furnish materials for the historian than amusement for the general reader. There is comparatively little that is personal; and few will persevere in the perusal who have not previously a deep feeling about the political events of those times, events so incalculably momentous. The letters chiefly relate to the transactions of the American Revolution as they occurred; and afterwards to the uegocia tions in which the author was engaged at the Court of France just before, and during, the commencement of the explosion there. The following brief sketch of Necker occurs in one of these; it is as characteristic of the writer as of the subject:

"It is a tremendous cloud, indeed, which hovers over this nation, and he at the helm has neither the courage nor the skill necessary to weather it. Eloquence in a high degree, knowledge in matters of account, and order, are distinguishing traits in his character. Ambition is his first passion, virtue his second. He has not discovered that sublime truth, that a bold unequivocal virtue is the best handmaid even to ambition, and would carry him further, in the end, than the temporising, wavering policy he pursues. His judgment is not of the first order, scarcely even of the second; his resolution frail; and upon the whole it is rare to meet an instance of a person so much below the reputation he has obtained."-II. 480.

It is thus that we might expect the dauntless, uncompromising Jefferson to speak of the vacillating Financier. And as an illustration of his moral principle, we will take our leave of him with an extract from a letter to the youth (Peter Carr) to whom the sceptical passage just referred to was addressed:

"Time now begins to be precious to you. Every day you lose will retard a day your entrance on that public stage whereon you may begin to be useful to yourself. However, the way to repair the loss is to improve the future time. I

trust that with your dispositions, even the acquisition of science is a pleasing employment. I can assure you that the possession of it is what (next to an honest heart) will above all things render you dear to your friends, and give you fame and promotion in your own country. When your mind shall be well improved with science, nothing will be necessary to place you in the highest points of view, but to pursue the interests of your country, the interests of your friends, and your own interests also, with the purest integrity, the most chaste honour. The defect of these virtues can never be made up by all the other acquirements of body and mind. Make these then your first object. Give up money, give up fame, give up science, give the earth itself and all it contains, rather than do an immoral act. And never suppose, that in any possible situation, or under any circumstances, it is best for you to do a dishonourable thing, however slight ly so it may appear to you. Whenever you are to do a thing, though it can never be known but to yourself, ask yourself how you would act were all the world looking at you, and act accordingly. Encourage all your virtuous dispositions, and exercise them whenever an opportunity arises; being assured that they will gain strength by exercise, as a limb of the body does, and that exercise will make them habitual. From the practice of the purest virtue you may be assured you will derive the most sublime comforts in every moment of life, and in the moment of death. If ever you find yourself environed with difficulties and perplexing circumstances out of which you are at a loss how to extricate yourself, do what is right, and be assured that that will extricate you the best out of the worst situations. Though you cannot see when you take one step what will be the next, yet follow truth, justice, and plain dealing, and never fear their leading you out of the labyrinth in the easiest maner possible. The knot which you thought a Gordian one, will untie itself before you. Nothing is so mistaken as the suppositiou that a person is to extricate himself from a difficulty by intrigue, by chicanery, by dissimulation, by trimming, by an untruth, by an injustice. This increases the difficulties ten fold; and those who pursue these methods get themselves so involved at length, that they can turn no way but their infamy becomes more exposed. It is of great importance to set a resolution, not to be shaken, never to tell an untruth. There is no vice so mean, so pi

tiful, so contemptible; and he who permits himself to tell a lie once, finds it much easier to do it a second and a third time, till at length it becomes habitual; he tells lies without attending to it, and truths without the world's believing him. This falsehood of the tongue leads to that of the heart, and in time depraves all its good dispositions." -I. 285, 286.

We come now to much lighter reading in the form of Travels in the Interior of Mexico, by Lieutenant Hardy. "Who is there," says the Lieutenant in his début, "that has not found fault with a prosy book of travels?" To avoid being prosy, the gallant sailor has crowded sail on the opposite tack, and run the risk of being more vivacious than useful. Information there is, no doubt, in his book, but the principle of selection is wanting, and it is one continued rattle of jokes and adventures, descriptions of people, and whimsical stories. Every thing is told as it might be at a fire-side after supper, with the accompaniment of a family punch-bowl, half in joke, half in earnest, half true, and half for effect. Being "engaged in the capacity of commissioner by the general Pearl and Coral Fishery Association," Lieutenant Hardy spent four months in diplomatic discussion at Mexico; during which time he seems to have been (as well he might) ill at his ease. Having at last obtained the desired license, he proceeded northward to Loreto, and from thence to the gulf of Molexe, where he became (in the service of the said Association) a diver. This undertaking, and the dangers attendant upon it, he describes with great spirit. "If it be difficult to learn to swim," says he, "it is infinitely more so to dive. In my first attempts I could only descend about six feet, and was immediately obliged to rise again to the surface; but by degrees I got down to three or four fathoms; at which depth the pressure of the water upon the ears is so great, that I can only compare it to a sharp-pointed iron instrument being violently forced into that organ. My stay under water, therefore, at this depth was extremely short; but as I had been assured, that so soon as the ears should burst, as it is technically called by the divers, there would be no difficulty in descending to any depth; and wishing to become an accomplished diver, I determined to brave the excessive pain, till the bursting should, as it were, liberate me from a kind of cord which limited my rauge downwards in the same way

that the ropes of a balloon confine the progress of that machine upwards."— "Reason and resolution urged me on, although every instant the pain increased as I descended; and at the depth of six or seven fathoms, I felt a sensation in my ears like that produced by the explosion of a gun; at the same moment I lost all sense of pain, and afterwards reached the bottom, which I explored with a facility that I had thought unattainable. Unfortunately, I met with no oysters to reward my perseverance; and as I found myself exhausted for want of air, I seized hold of a stone to prove that I had reached the bottom at eight fathoms water, and rose to the top with a triumph as great as if I had obtained a treasure. I no sooner found myself on the surface than I became sensible of what had happened to my eyes, ears, and mouth; I was literally bleeding from each of these, though wholly unconscious of it. But now was the greatest danger in diving, as the sharks, mantas, and tinteréros, have an astonishingly quick scent of blood." Of the sharks, however, (under the stimulus of hope,) a diver thinks nothing. "I have myself descended," says Lieut. Hardy, “when the horizon was filled with the project ing fins of sharks rising above the surface of the water; and although armed only in the way I have described," (viz. with a stick sharpened at both ends, the better to hold open the creature's expanded jaws,) "I thought myself perfectly secure from molestation; notwithstanding they were swimming round me in all directions at not a greater distance than a few fathoms, I continued my pursuits with the greatest sang-froid." Reason whispers that even a stick with two points might have failed, but nothing of this sort assails the stout heart of a diver when under water. "I should no more be capable in my cool moments of reflection," says Lieutenant Hardy, "of braving this inconceivably horrid danger, than of entering the tiger's den before his breakfast at Exeter Change." A certain Don Pablo, however, is described as having had moments of "cool reflection" (even in cold immersion) on the subject of a tinteréro that had taken station three or four yards above him. "A double-pointed stick is a useless weapon against a tinteréro, as its mouth is of such enormous dimensions, that both man and stick would be swallowed together. He therefore felt himself rather nervous, as his return was now completely intercepted. He described him (the tinteréro to wit, who was hovering over

him as a hawk would follow a bird') as having large round and inflamed eyes, apparently just ready to dart from their sockets with eagerness, and a mouth (at the recollection of which he still shuddered) that was continually opening and shutting, as if the monster were already in imagination devouring his victim, or at least that the contemplation of his prey imparted a foretaste of the gout." Two alternatives now presented themselves to the mind of Don Pablo; one to suffer himself to be drowned, the other to be eaten. On a sudden he recollected that on one side of the rock was a bed of sand; he reached the spot, stirred up the sand with his pointed stick, clouded the water, and thus rose to the surface in safety, before he was completely exhausted. "Fortunately he rose close to the boats," and his friends seeing him in such a state, and knowing that an enemy was at hand, "jumped overboard, as is the practice, to frighten the creature by splashing the water;" after which "Don Pablo was taken into the boat more dead than alive." (P. 259.) Next to Lieut. Hardy's practice in diving, his practice in the healing art is most worthy of notice; he avows, indeed, from the first, that he has ever had "some propensity towards quackery," and that he had even "studied enough of physic" to give him "a general outline of ordinary complaints." Very early in his pilgrimage we find him "setting to work with an emetic" upon a poor man who suffered from a cold and bilious attack; after which he nearly frightened the life out of a young lady, with "delicate small features, and full black eyes," leaving her, however, by way of compensation, a few simple doses of medicine." (Vide p. 114, for the young lady's case.)

At Sonora, he cured some and washed some, (for the sick are beyond measure dirty in their habits,") and at Opo. sura, where he was detained by "a low nervous affection," in addition to an attack on the chest, he cured every body, for a length of time, but himself. " Of my materia medica," says Lieut. Hardy, "it may be well to state that charcoal, which I prepare with soap, formed the chief ingredient, both for indigestion, heartburn, and pain in the shoulders.""In putrid fevers there is no medicine so efficacious and sure." "Pain which many people have in the shoulders and neck," yields to charcoal. Ditto the bite of a rattle-snake to an external application (the charcoal being made into a poultice with rice). The patient in this latter case "felt a sensation of heat

in his chest," which Lieut. Hardy subdued by keeping him immersed in the river. "I kept him in till his pulse was reduced to ninety-three, and I could bring it no lower. I then placed his bed in a cool place, and made him take, every half hour, two charcoal pills." In the evening the burning sensation returned; "I therefore repeated the cold bath, and increased the number of pills." In eight days' time the patient was well. Eventually, the author was so happy as to cure himself of the complaint of the chest brought on by diving. (P. 419.) We could give a receipt for Hydrophobia, but we should be unwilling to interfere with the Fire King; we will, therefore, favour our readers with a mud-bath! "A young married lady" (in Villa del Fuerte)" finding herself excessively oppressed with the heat of the weather, although she had thrown windows and doors open to cool the room, and had likewise poured water over herself to refresh her body, adopted the following excellent expedient," which must be told in her own words: "I made a large hole in the middle of the floor, by first removing the bricks. Into this hole I poured a sufficient quantity of water to knead up a large portion of earth, which I did first with a stick, and afterwards with my hands, till the mass was as thick as paste. I then undressed myself entirely and entered the hole, in which I sat down and besmeared every part of my body; and as I found myself very comfortable and refreshed, I lay down and rolled myself in the mud." She added, "When my husband returned, would you believe it, that what with my large figure, and my being completely covered with mud, he imagined that he beheld a monster rise, as it were, out of the bowels of the earth; and he stood for some moments looking in amazement, unable to imagine what sort of an animal had got into the house." (P. 369.) "The nation which is called the Axua," says our author," is very numerous.""They adorn their head with mud instead of flowers; and they also delight in painting their bodies with it. On a hot day it is by no means uncommon to see them weltering in the mud like pigs!" The price of human flesh, as may be expected in such a country, is low. Being moved on one occasion, rather by compassion than wisdom, Lieutenant Hardy offered a pocket handkerchief in exchange for a little girl six years old, which was accepted; this child had been stolen. Afterwards having two children in his possession, he offered half a yard of red

baize for a governess; "but there was no making a bargain." The lady whom he proposed to purchase at this rate, was, however, a beauty; "her neck and wrists were adorned with shells curiously strung; her hair fell in graceful ringlets about her delicate shoulders, and her figure was straight and extremely well proportioned." She paid the author a visit when he was moored in the Red River, making her appearance à la page, with one of her companions; "I put out my hand," says he," to lay hold of one of the swimmers, as the rapid tide was bearing the Indian's head under water. The hand was held eagerly up, and when I caught hold of it, I was not a little surprised to find that it belonged to the slender form of a young lady, of about sixteen or seventeen years of age." Being accommodated with a jacket, and subsequently with a sheet, the young lady established herself upon deck with great coolness, and devoured biscuit and frijoles with perfect good humour. "Iu vain I made signs to inquire the meaning of her visit," says Lieut. Hardy; "she remained feasting with as much composure and unconcern as if she had been in the midst of her friends." Finally, as the Indian who accompanied her would not exchange her for half a yard of red baize, they were both sent to shore in a boat, and heard of no more. With the political state of the country, or the mining department, our author troubles himself very little; but under the latter head he has some capital stories. "A Mexican miner," says he, " is a mau endowed with an extraordinary degree of what may be termed technical eloquence, which he deals out with great vehemence, and frequently without any regard to fact. He seems, indeed, to have his imagination for ever overheated, and his ideas have always a golden tint, which renders them equally delusive to himself, and others who rely upon him. No class of men, however, are without some honest individuals amongst them, but I have never yet met with more than one miuer whom I have every reason to consider truly honest. About two or three years ago, a swiudler fixed a large specimen of ore, taken from the rich mine of Alamos, most ingeniously in the vein of a mine not a hundred leagues distant from thence. When the deception was perfect, he took a certain foreigner to the mine, to give him ocular demonstration of its worth. The parties descended with hammer and bolt, and a portion of the identical bit of ore which had been stuck on to the vein, was detached, and

subjected to examination. It turned out so well, that the deluded individual was determined to embark in the enterprize. When I knew him, he had already spent 10,000 dollars; and when any new demand was made upon his purse, it went accompanied with samples of the same rich specimen." Finally, au inquiry was set on foot which terminated in a discovery of the deception. The unfortunate speculator having lost 10,000 dollars, abandoned the enterprize, and the pretended miner went off to the south.

We have done our author great injustice in not quoting (if it be possible that we have not already quoted) some of his puns; it should also have been signified, on behalf of his courage, that he ventured to cut off a (dead) tiger's tail. With a short specimen of his political wisdom, we must however conclude. "A system," says he," must be made for the people, and not the people for a system. Indeed, with respect to the present government, which has hitherto answered so badly, it is a pity that the Mexicans do not change it for one better suited to their circum. stances, character, and previous habits. It is, besides, by far too expensive for the resources of the country, and has infinitely multiplied the number of both private and public tyrants. It has, in short, made the members of the body independent of each other, which is contrary to reason and practical utility. To effect a reform, whether under the present system of government or any other, I am convinced that a benevolent tyrant, one who would rule with a rod so long as it might be requisite, but who at the same time would consult the ultimate happiness of the country and the improvement of the inhabitants, is absolutely necessary" !—P. 518.

The next work in our list is Travels in Chaldæa, including a Journey from Bussorah to Bagdad, Hillah, and Babylon, performed on Foot in 1827. By Capt. Robert Mignan. What there is of personal observation in this book is interesting, and has every appearance of being authentic; but we can hardly help exclaiming as we go on," Is that all?" It is hard upon a man to travel on foot from Bussorah to Bagdad without ever meeting a lion. What Capt. Miguan did see, however, he tells, and the desert places he fills with quotations not idle quotations from Byron and Moore, but from Chardin, Keppel, Niebuhr, Shaw, Morier, Buckingham, Hanway — Newton, Prideaux, Arrian, Strabo, Diodorus, Herodotus, and their several commentators. The

volume, in short, is a succinct account of the past and present state of the tract of land through which Capt. Miguan pursued his researches; from the Persian Gulf, that is, to Bagdad, and the site of Babylon, on the banks of the Euphrates and Tigris. "My aim throughout this work," says the author in his preface, "has been rather to delineate the various remarkable objects that presented themselves to my attention, than to enter deeply into useless theory and vain speculation; in short, to furnish an accurate account of the existing remains of ancient grandeur, to describe their present desolation, and to trace something like a correct outline of the ouce renowned metropolis of Chaldæa." Setting out from Bussorah with six Arabs armed and equipped, and eight sturdy natives who were employed in towing a boat up the stream, Capt. Mignan proceeded along the banks of the Shutal Arab in a northerly direction. The second day's journey brought him to the confluence of the Euphrates and Tigris, after which he continued his course "north ten degrees west," on the banks of the Tigris; having "before him the land of Eden, and behind a desolate wilderness," and steering ἀπὸ τῶν ̓Αρκτῶν (Anglice, by the Pole-star). At Zetchiah they had a slight altercation with the inhabitants, who insisted upon their paying tribute, notwithstanding the written warrant of Montefik Sheikh to the contrary. "The Sheikh of this village," says Capt. Mignan in a note, pays 50,000 piastres or 45007. yearly to the Montefiks. This sum is collected from the Bagdad trading boats and the cultivation of an extensive tract on either side of the Tigris. They also plunder all those who are so unfortunate as to fall into their power." "The fine, honourable, hospitable character generally attributed to the Desert Arabs (alas!) is at present a fiction." Dr. Shaw tells us that "the Arabs are naturally thievish and treacherous; and it sometimes happens that those very persons are overtaken and pillaged in the morning, who were entertained the night before with all the instances of friendship and hospitality." Capt. Mignan himself was neither entertained nor pillaged, so he has little to say on that score; but he dislikes their cookery. "Having bought a couple of sheep," says he, "for my people, I was witness to some curious culinary operations. The entrails were ripped open; pieces of which, with the hoofs, dipped once or twice into the water, were eaten by them raw; the rest of the animal, unflayed and unshorn,

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