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first treats of the past of Turkey, the second of its present. We have treated both these works at large in subsequent articles.

The third volume of the "Memorials and Correspondence of Charles James Fox" may be lightly mentioned; for one more volume will complete the work, and we shall then have to deal with it as a whole. The second volume left him ejected from office, by the perfidy of the king, and through the agency of the Indian Bill; the present carries us from 1792 to the early part of 1804. Throughout this period he was the leader of a small party, defeated in every division, and little supported by the sympathy of his countrymen. Lord John Russell :

66 "Yet," remarks

At no time did the energy, the logic, the fancy of Mr. Fox appear to the world with greater lustre; at no time did the warmth of his heart, the sweetness of his temper, and the refinement of his taste give such tranquillity to his home. At a period when the prospects of office nearly vanished from his sight; when calumny loved to paint him as a man of disordered ambition and criminal designs, he was busy in the study of Homer or lounging carelessly through his garden, and expressing to his beloved nephew the full sense of his happiness and content. The trees and flowers, the birds, and the fresh breezes gave him an intense enjoyment, which those who knew his former life of politics and of pleasure could hardly have imagined. To the capacious benevolence which longed to strike the chains from the African slave he joined a daily practice of all the charities of life, and a perception of the beautiful in nature, in literature, and in art, which was a source of constant enjoyment. With a simplicity of manners rare in great statesmen, he united views the most profound, and a feeling heart which calumny could not embitter, nor years make cold, nor the world harden.

The great mistake in the life of this eminent man is thus briefly told :-'

We have seen in the former volumes the dissolute life in which Mr. Fox became involved. Amid the indulgences of a wandering fancy and violent passions he formed a lasting attachment. Mrs. Armitstead, who lived with him as his mistress, became his wife in the year 1795. Fortunately she was endowed with strong affection, good sense, and an unbounded devotion to Mr. Fox.

A large portion of this instalment of the Memorials consists of letters to his nephew; and every reader will remark how different has been the effect of the full glare of light thrown by the same editor upon the characters of a statesman and a poet. The little artificial pettinesses of Moore tempt us to forget the sweetness of his fancy, and the brightness of his genius but every detail of the home occupations of Fox-every familiar phrase in every private letter-comes forth only to illustrate the honest earnestness, and childlike simplicity of a great mind, and drape with dignity the historic figure of the statesman.

Although we propose to consider this work more carefully hereafter, we must cull in passing a few specimens of the wise reflexions and

generous thoughts, wherewith the correspondence is studded. Bolingbroke, Johnson, Burke, or D'Israeli, never said any thing half so pertinent to the question of the utility of partygovernment as the following:

The question upon the solution of which, in my opinion, principally depends the utility of party is, in what situations are men most or least likely to act corruptly-in a party, or insulated? and of this I think is not more or less influenced, in a doubtful case, by the there can be no doubt. There is no man so pure who interest of his fortune or his ambition. If, therefore, upon every new question a man has to decide, this influence will have so many frequent opportunities of exerting itself that it will in most cases ultimately prevail; whereas, if a man has once engaged in a party the occasions for new decisions are more rare, and consequently these corrupt influences operate less. This reasoning is much strengthened when you consider that many men's minds are so framed that, in a question at all dubious, they are incapable of any decision; some, from narrowness of understanding, not seeing the point of the question at all; others, from refinement, seeing so much on both sides, that they do not know how to balance the account. Such persons will, in nine cases out of ten, be influenced by interest, even without their being conscious of their corruption. In short, it appears to me that a party spirit is the only substitute that has been found, or can be found, for public virtue and comprehensive understanding; neither of which can be reasonably expected to be found in a very great number of people. Over and above all this, it appears to me to be a constant incitement to every thing that is right; for, if a party spirit prevails, all power, aye, and all rank too, in the liberal sense of the word, is in a great measure elective. To be at the head of a party, or even high in it, you must have the confidence of the party; and confidence is not to be procured by abilities alone. In an Epitaph upon Lord Rockingham, written I believe by Burke, it is said, “his virtues were his means; " and very truly; and so, more or less, it must be with every party man. Whatever teaches men to depend upon one another, and to feel the necessity of conciliating the good opinion of those with whom they live, is surely of the highest advantage to the morals and happiness of mankind; and what does this so much as party? Many of these which I have mentioned are only collateral advantages, as it were, belonging to this system; but the decisive argument upon this subject appears to me to be this: Is there any other mode or plan in this country by which a rational man can hope to stem the power and influence of the Crown? I am sure that neither ex

perience nor any well-reasoned theory has ever shown any other. Is there any other plan which is likely to make so great a number of persons resist the temptations of titles and emoluments? And if these things are so, good has been derived, because some men have acted ought we to abandon a system from which so much inconsistently, or because, from the circumstances of the moment, we are not likely to act with much effect?

he would have been happy, as a Russian Serf. Johnson would have been happy, or believed See the difference between a generous great mind and a strong little mind. Boswell tells

us:

Sir Adam suggested that luxury corrupts a people and destroys the spirit of liberty.

half a guinea to live under one form of Government rather than another. It is of no moment to the happiness of an individual. Sir, the danger of abuse of power

Johnson. Sir, that is all visionary. I would not give

is nothing to a private man. What Frenchman is prevented from passing his life as he pleases?

Sir Adam." But, Sir, in the British Constitution it is surely of importance to keep up a spirit in the people, Bo as to preserve a balance against the Crown." Johnson. Sir, I perceive you are a vile Whig. Why all this childish jealousy of the power of the Crown."

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Mr. Boswell's editor thinks that his hero did not mean what he said. But the Doctor lost no opportunity of deliberately and publicly reiterating the same slavish creed-witness his celebrated definition of a "Patriot" in the dictionary, and the "tag" which he affixed to Goldsmith's "Traveller." Fox writes:

I believe the love of political liberty is not an error; but, if it is one, I am sure I never shall be converted from it-and I hope you never will. If it be an illusion, it is one that has brought forth more of the best qualities and exertions of the human mind than all other causes put together; and it serves to give an interest in the affairs of the world which, without it, would be insipid; but it is unnecessary to preach to you upon this subject.

There is much talk of his "History," which he was engaged upon at this period; some mention of a projected edition of Dryden, and many charming bits of criticism. Witness the following:

What can you mean by saying there is little good of the new poetry in Cowper? What, not the triplets to Mary? Not the verses about his first love in the early past? Not one of the Sonnets? Not the shipwreck or outcast? Pray read them over again and repeat your former judgment if you dare. I have not the book here, having lent it, or I could quote I believe much more. Hayley's part of the book is no doubt lamentable, and what I am most angry with him for, is, that he I think in general, however, (not in this publication,) that you hold poor Hayley too cheap. His "History of Old Maids" and parts of the " Trials of Temper" are, I think, very good. I like Frere's translation very much, and shall be glad to see the original. I read a little, and very little of Gifford, and thought it vile. To catch the manner of Juvenal is difficult, and without his peculiar manner he is not himself. Dryden catches it sometimes admirably, only compare his conclusion of the tenth satire with Johnson's, and I hope you will think the superiority as great as I do.

seems to have withheld much that I should like to read.

Again

I never read a line of Oldham's; your character of him accords pretty well with what Dryden says of him; but Pope soon after was a complete refutation of what Dryden says about those parts of poetry which are never to be acquired but by time. And indeed if smoothness, as Dryden says, be the acquisition of age, it may be one reason why Pope, who was never deficient in this respect did not improve so much as in others.

Well may Lord John Russell say—

"Yet eager as Mr. Fox was as a party man, his letters to Lord Holland, which occupy the former part of this volume are more truly characteristic of him than those which are now to follow (the letters to Grey, Fitzpatrick, Adair, Landerdale, and other political allies.) To Lord Holland alone he dilated on the literary occupations which, far more than political contests, absorbed his mind and delighted his taste. Despondent beyond measure on the prospects of our domestic liberty, he loved to turn away his eyes from the carnage of contending armies, and

the servility of a confiding country, and to fix them on the immortal works of the great heirs of literary fame. Reading with ease and pleasure to himself the poets of Greece, Rome, Italy, France, and England, he loved to compare kindred passages, to trace the history of a simile, and to weigh in his critical scale the rival beauties of Homer and of Virgil, of Euripides and of Racine.

Lord John adds :-"The period comprised in this Correspondence reaches only to the time when Mr. Fox resumed, with assiduity, his active duties in Parliament. His complete junction with Lord Grenville, the overthrow of the Addington ministry, and the events which followed, including Mr. Fox's short tenure of office, will be reserved for the next and last volume."

An American publisher has bought up some of the refuse letters of the Moore Correspondence. The public appetite for poets' correspondence with their publishers has been satisfied even to cloying. In Moore's case it has already almost reached nausea. These letters

notwithstanding the bait to morbid curiosity held out in the word "suppressed "--will be found so intrinsically devoid of interest, as to quite justify the discretion exercised by Lord John Russell in their omission. The only salient facts that we can find in the collection, apart from some unimportant gossip about very unimportant people, are that the Power family were disappointed in not receiving some purchase money for the letters they had in their possession, that several small littérateurs were disappointed in not being allowed to become the Poet's biographer, and that Thomas Moore and James Power had some disputes as to matters of account, which disputes were referred to arbitration.

Two of these very valuable facts appear in the following extracts from Mr. Crofton Croker's letter:

It had been a curious practice with Moore to ask various people to write a posthumous Memoir of him. He certainly did so to Viscount Strangford in 1806, to myself (Mr. Croker) in 1819, and, I have been well assured, to others subsequently. Among them, the late Mr. Moran, the sub-editor of the Globe newspaper, who, in consequence formed extensive, but not very important collections, chiefly of newspaper-cuttings, for the purpose. On the 25th of April, 1837, Moore visited Moran, and on the following day he thus wrote to me-" Moore was particularly pleased with my annotated copy of his works, saying, Well, it is something to have a commentator, and a friendly one too, while one is alive.' He also obtained a promise that I was to let him have the use of my collection for a posthumous work which he contemplates, and which I hope the public will long lack the sight of. I gave him a hint of your treasures, of which also-i. e., of their existence-he seemed well aware." I observed to the Misses Power, who were perfectly

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*Notes from the Letters of Thomas Moore to his Musical Publisher, James Power, (the publication of which were suppressed in London,) with an Introductory Letter from T. Crofton Croker, Esq. New York, Redfield.

aware of the fact, that Moore was then (1850) dead to the world, and that in whatever shape a Memoir of him was to appear upon his bodily demise, or whoever was to be the editor of his Journal, the most interesting letters would probably be selected for publication, and if not copied, might in passing through the press be either injured or destroyed. For many months did these ladies assiduously transcribe the letters in their possession, to the amount of about twelve hundred, which had been addressed by the poet Moore to their late father. And if, as Bentley (the eminent London publisher) told me, he was prepared to offer to Mrs. Moore 4,000l., for her late husband's papers, as the foundation for his Biography, I had no hesitation in expressing to the Misses Power my conviction that, in the same ratio, the collection of letters in their possession could not be worth less

than 5001.

The correspondence as to the arbitration is as follows:

Brookes's, Nov. 8, Dear Sir,-Having brought up to town some musical works for publication, I am unwilling to take any steps in the matter till I shall have heard from you on the subject of our accounts, and learned whether you are inclined to bring them to a fair and equitable settlement; my opinion of the statement you have already furnished me with is so well known to you, that I need add nothing more, than that I am yours, &c.,

THOMAS MOORE.

* * * It was soon followed up by the choice of an umpire in Power and Moore.

We concur in requesting the favour of Sir George Rose to act as umpire between us in the event of any difference arising. (Signed,)

Dec. 3, 1833.

HORACE TWISS,

HY. ALWORTH MEREWETHER.

A second volume of the Chevalier Bunsen's "Historical Investigation in five books-Egypt's Place in Universal History," is like unto the first. That is to say, it is a hard exercise to the erudite, and an impenetrable puzzle to the unlearned. So far as the Chevalier has hitherto gone, his object has chiefly been to settle the succession of the dynasties, to tabulate the names of kings, and to fix the chronology. The materials for such an enterprise are somewhat scant. Old Egyptian historical work there is none. Manetho's lists afford only meagre information; and Syncellus's Epitome of Eratosthenes contains hardly any history at all. Royal lists, monumental names, and Greek traditions are the fitful and uncertain lights whereby the Chevalier gropes his way among the Egyptian monuments, sums up the old empire as consisting of thirtyeight kings and 1076 years, settles the Hyksos or middle period, as occupied by fifty-three shorter-lived kings, whose aggregate of dominion was but 922 years, and decides with still more accurately defined detail, upon the dynasties and individuals of the New Empire. All honour to the Champollions, the Rosellinis, the Rougés, the Lepsiuses, the Birchs and the Bunsens, through whose wonderfully untiring labors Egyptology has become a science. We look on and triumph in the power of our human intellect, when we see that out of a few old stones, scratched over with perky-looking little birds, horned beasts of uncertain resemblance to

I am perfectly willing to act as umpire in the event particular living tribes, imitations of humanity,

suggested.

(Signed,)

G. ROSE.

There was no occasion, however, for any reference to an umpire, as the following document will prove :

Park Place, St. James Street, Dec. 17th, 1833.

Every thing to rest as it is between the parties (except as hereafter mentioned), both with respect to the accounts and works. Mr. Power to deliver up the Musical Annual (except the songs). Mr. Power to give up the Miscellany. Mr. Moore to supply sixteen songs as before, for the tenth number of the Irish Melodies, at the sum of 500., allowing 501. for the arranging them, AND 100l. for any other difference between the parties; and, therefore, on payment of 3501., Mr. Moore to deliver to Mr. Power sixteen songs for the tenth number, and to execute a conveyance to Mr. Power of the copyrights of the works which Mr. Moore has supplied to Mr. Power.

such as school-boys are thrashed for drawing upon slates, crooks, balls, and lines, horizontal, dexter, and sinister-that out of these unpromising materials, a system has been created. Little birds, and little men, and crooks, and balls, and lines, have all been brought into severe drill, have been compelled to square with certain rules laid down by M. Champollion, and thus exercised and officered have been led to the Bunsen undertakes to win, by aid of these disciconquest of the Ancient History of Egypt. M. plined hieroglyphics, the chronological history of our race for more than 2,500 years before the building of Solomon's Temple-that is, 2,500 years beyond the Ultima Thule of previous scientific chronology. The Viscount Rougé has translated from this hieroglyphical alphabet an Egyptian novel, entitled "The Two Brothers.' The Rosetta stone has been completely decyphered by Lepsius, and Birch and Rosellini read historical inscriptions almost as easily as they read German. To these decipherers, the days of Moses are almost too recent to be "We have now before us," says interesting. H. A. M. the Chevalier, "a regular novel, written, comparatively speaking, at a modern period, still, however, in the time of Moses, under the King of the Exodus, by one of his official writers. It

Wednesday, Dec. 18th, 1833. Met Mr. Twiss in Portugal Street, and then went to Mr. Power's, told both that, though the new proposal was a departure from the old one, yet he would accede to it, but must require the payment of the 350l. when the tenth number was delivered, which, however, would not be for some months. Having thus settled the matter, begged Mr. Power to send for his papers, which he did, and I delivered them to his son.

(Signed,)

The American press ought to be ashamed of collecting its copy from English waste paper

baskets.

is a popular tale of olden times, conducted with all the punctilio of Chinese formality, and all the machinery which the belief in the migration of the soul could suggest to an Egyptian author. The hero, the victim of the revenge of his brother's wife, a perfect counterpart of Potiphar's consort, survives many deaths, and continues to be the instrument of Divine retributive justice, whose decrees are carried out at last most satisfactorily."

That the pyramid of Cheops is a gradually formed monument, built layer over layer upon a single rock-hewn tomb, is a discovery, so far as we know, first announced by M. Bunsen. But Cheops slept not, or at any rate sleeps not, in his own tomb; while the good King Mencheres, who stopped the building, abolished compulsory labor, re-established the worship of the gods, and the festivals of the people; the idol of the nation, and the Mykerinus of Herodotus-this good King Mencheres is rewarded as an ancient Egyptian would wish to be. He enjoys a portion of a glass case, and the companionship of a heap of common-place antiquities, on a shelf of the British Museum. The courtly and complimentary Chevalier describes the material transmigration of Mencheres thus:

It is a happy fatality, that after the mysterious pyramids have been so often ransacked and mutilated-the coffin lid of this very monarch, or that of his successor of the same name, and the mummy beneath it and it only should have been preserved. The bones of the oppressor of the people, who for two whole generations harassed hundreds of thousands from day to day, have been torn from those sepulchral chambers which they fondly hoped would have preserved their remains for ever from the annihilation they apprehended, and have bid defiance to all search and all demolition.

Diodorus indeed mentions an Egyptian tradition, according to which neither of the two kings was buried in his own pyramid, for fear of a popular outbreak, but in a eluded spot as privately as possible. The good and humane king, however, who abolished the inhuman Boccage has remained down to our own days in his own pyramid, rescued from the desolation of ages, and has met with a resting place worthy of his fame. The corse of Mencheres reposes at this hour in greater security than it did almost five thousand years ago, in the island the mistress of the world, whose freedom and free institutions are stronger bulwarks than the ocean which encircles her. May its rest never be disturbed so long as the stream of history shall roll on.

Alas for the giants of the desert, not only can they not protect their regal mummies, but they cannot protect their own dignified stability. At the approach of that Vandalic, prosaic, newpoliceman-like genius, reform," even the pyramids are fain to move on!" Bunsen sighs, and says, "The present Government builds cotton factories, and powder magazines,

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out of the tombs of the old Pharoahs!"

If we speak of this volume in light tone, it is not that we lack an appreciating spirit for the labors of our learned diplomatist. We can only catch and chronicle the great results of such

labors, leaving to our exclusively historical or antiquarian contemporaries the task of discussing name by name, these elaborate tables of mummy kings. The great results, however, are not yet before us-"the historical exposition of the reigns and dynasties, is a task reserved for the subsequent volume."

The "Ecclesiastical History of the First and Second Centuries" has been treated by Dr. Denison Maurice in an octavo of 401 pages, which we have elsewhere reviewed; but we cannot here pass it by without remarking how fearlessly this Ecclesiastic tells the truth of History, removing even from the persecutors of Christianity the stigma of wanton cruelty and bigotted intolerance. He applies to the Christian Society the line of Lucretius

Igneus est ollis vigor et cœlestis origo;

and he asserts boldly that this fiery strength had a political and not merely a religious signification which a statesman should not slight. "The Emperors themselves," he says, “ had a clearer instinct on this subject than the members of the church. There was not one of them

from Nerva to Commodus-who was not a man of much more than average intelligence and average benevolence; not one with the exception perhaps of Hadrian, for whom we may not claim positive moral worth. It may be asserted almost as confidently, that just in proportion to their worth was their suspicion of the Christian church. Trojan feared it more than Hadrian; Marcus Aurelius feared it more than Trojan. The fact is undoubted."

In Biography, the quarter is not very rich. A new edition of "Lord Nugent's Life of Hampden" gives occasion for a short introductory memoir of that amiable nobleman; and Mr. Foster has produced an enlarged edition of his "Life of Goldsmith," but neither of these are events in Biographical literature.

There is an Autobiography, which is certainly a curiosity. The Reverend Henry Fynes Clinton wrote and published two works called "Fasti Hellenici" and "Fasti Romani"-works which doubtless displayed great industry and erudition. He is lately dead, and it is discovered that he has left an Autobiography and a "Literary Journal." The MS. is immediately edited by a relative, and the volume is before us. Porson or Bentley might have read this book with enthusiasm-we fear that the present age will only regard it with a cold respect. It is very pardonable in a student to journalize that he has read 186,913 Greek verses and 64,967 pages of Greek prose writers; but it is scarcely amusing to read the details of these labours, when expanded over pages of names and figures.

Perhaps Mrs. Thompson's "Recollections of Literary Characters and Celebrated Places "

should be taken to pertain to the category of Autobiography. This book is fitly and sufficiently described by its title. Any one who sees the back of such a work, knows pretty well what it must contain. The only question is, what opportunities did the author enjoy, what capacity has she of making use of them, and does she tell a story pleasantly? Mrs. Thompson has had average opportunities, and she possesses average power of description. We do not indulge in lengthened extracts lest the reader should recognise an old acquaintance, made in the pages of a monthly magazine some years ago.

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* As a specimen of the best portions of these volumes we may however quote the following reminiscence of Gerald Griffin, vol. i. P. 9-12

When last I saw Maguin, there gazed upon his soft but restless eye, there hung upon his words, a pale young man-himself a genius of the purest ray-admiring the genius of another. I knew him not; his manner was unobtrusive; the circle who stood around Maguin had scarcely heard his name. He stood behind in a retired part of the room. Unseen, he went away-no one missed him. No one alluded to the young Irishman: the name of Gerald Griffin was not so much as uttered in that noisy chamber. As he passed me, the grave and melancholy aspect, the lean form, and anxious countenance arrested my attention; but still I was not sufficiently interested to enquire his name.

Not long afterwards I undertook, upon the recommendation of a short encomium in "The Edinburgh Review" to read "The Collegians." It is among the most powerful of the neglected novels of the day. I speak not of its merits merely as a portraiture true to the life, and far exceeding "Banum" or 66 Harry Lorrequer," of Irish manners; I speak not of it merely as a tale of sad and powerful interest, but as a solemn appalling, moral lesson. Nor is it the common lesson of passion making its own retribution, or of vice, rendered so delightful as to seem to wear the cast off vestments of virtue, triumphing over innocence. Its ground-work is domestic; the seldom told tale of mother and son: the pride and fondness of the one, the lessons of dubious morality, the education of self-indulgence turning upon her. The son of fine and generous nature, becoming her curseher tyrant-her shame. The abuse of the maternal influence is slowly but admirably unfolded: the mother, who idolises her son, points to his weak and wavering resolution, unconsciously, the path to crime. There exists not in fiction, I dare to assert it, a finer portraiture than that of "Mrs. Cregan," the mother of the finespirited, warm-hearted murderer; it is an original creation of the highest power.

"How is it," I asked L. E. L. one morning, "that so fine a work has produced so little sensation? Who is the author?-what?-and where?"

"Alas!" she answered, shaking her head, "he is a poor and almost friendless young man. I know him slightly;" and she drew a rapid picture of the young man whom I had recently seen in company with Maguin, and, for the first time, she made me acquainted with the name of Gerald Griffin.

He is gone: his intellectual strength was to him indeed but labour and sorrow;" his life had "consumed away as a moth fretting a garment," until at last the sirocco came: fever attacked him, and he sank to rest in the convent to which he had retreated, like a "stricken deer," to lie down and die. He was a very gifted, a good man, and as a writer of fiction, a great man. But he had no worshippers. He lived in the solitude of the

Lord

Mrs. Jameson's book, which to some extent is a sort of psychography, is noticed hereafter. The Travellers are very numerous. Carlisle and Captain Oldmixon come back from Turkey, and show us in what a different spirit men may journey to the same lands.

Lieutenant Alfred Royer, the first Lieutenant of the Tiger, gives to the public a "Personal Narrative of his Journey in Russia, and his interview with the Emperor Nicholas and the principal persons in the Empire." The loss of the Tiger, and even the fate of poor Giffard, has waned in interest, for greater and more sanguinary events have come between it and the present. The honest Lieutenant was a lion at the Russian Court, and enjoyed his importance with a simple vanity. He has however been, as we think, rather harshly censured for a weakness that was not very culpable.

Mr. Bartlett, the author of "Walks about Jerusalem" has found a grave in the waters of the Mediterranean. He had prepared for publication the result of his late investigations, under the title of " Jerusalem Revisited." This has now appeared-a sumptuous volume with illustrations-superintended by his twenty brother. It is very carefully got up and very well written, but it must be read together with the author's former work in order to afford a

complete description of the city.

Mrs. Young tells us, in lady's light tittletattle, all the gossip of the camps of Gallipoli and Varna. This book will amuse our fair readers, and the cheerful tone in which her discomforts are described, might shame the desponding grumblings of some of our rheumatic old male martinets

Forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit seems to have been the thought of this lady throughout her difficulties. She was

Mistress of herself tho' china fell

crushed under the heels of her vicious mule; and though she was obliged to turn the fowls out of her tent, in order to receive a visit of ceremony from a General officer, and was reduced to consider the possession of a Dutch

heart, in the vast, unthinking world, which moves on like a tide, and recks not the minute objects which it passes over in its ebb and flow. His heart was saddened, if not broken, by the neglect of critics—the difficulty of living by talents which were not justly appreciated. But despair never made him prostitute his powers to mere popularity; nor did find him rebellious beneath the chastisements of heaven.

It was not the rash impatience of Chatterton; rather let me compare him to the humble, the lonely, the suffering Kirke White,-a reed, indeed, shaken and bowed down by the angry blast of adversity,-a delicate plant amid a wilderness of rank weeds.

† Our Camp in Turkey and the way to it. By Mrs. Young. Bentley. 1854.

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