philosophy. The author's discriminations display an acuteness of perception, and a vigour of intellect, for which we search in vain in the works of many celebrated modern writers. The great and complicated whole of Mosaic legislation, his | mind comprehends in one survey; and although upwards of seven hundred years have elapsed since this work was first presented to the world, talents of the first order will scarcely be able to detect fallacies in his reasonings, or add to the evidences which he has adduced in favour of his positions.

From a perusal of these chapters we learn, that every branch of the Mosaic institutions is founded on reason and propriety. Of all the leading articles, the reasons are visible, and it is but fair to infer, that those of inferior orders should be referred to the same source, although, through the lapse of time, the defects of ancient history, and the changes that have taken place in the world, we may be unable to trace them in all their minute

ness.

To a mind unaccustomed to search for the rational causes of visible phenomena, the institutions of Moses may appear as a series of dogmas, that can only be resolved into arbitrary volition and power. A more patient and attentive investigation will, however, place the injunctions and prohibitions contained in the Mosaic ritual, upon a different ground; and those who have been accustomed to survey the commands and threatenings, the rewards and punishments, of the sacred code, in an inauspicious light, would do well to read with impartiality the More Nevochim of Maimonides.

The notes which the translator, Dr. Townley has supplied, are replete with learning and good sense. They display indefatigable research, exercised in the collecting of such facts and historical incidents as have a strong bearing on the subjects they were intended to illustrate. Transporting us from the days of Moses to our own times, he directs our views to many vestiges of customs that still prevail, which can only be traced to one common origin. Some of these may be found in our own country, but greater portions of them are in Ireland, and in the nations on the continent of Europe; and in Asia they still appear with less adulteration.

sition, deserving of a conspicuous place in the library of every biblical student; and to all who wish to know the reasons on which the facts are founded, of which its various chapters treat, it may be proňounced almost inestimable. To the talents, the learning, and the perseverance of Dr. Townley, the work does great credit, and, independently of the other productions of his pen, it can scarcely fail to secure to him an exalted station among the principal biblical scholars of the age.

REVIEW.-The Winter's Wreath, or a Collection of Original Contributions in Prose and Verse, for 1828. 12mo. pp. 410. Smith, Liverpool, and Whittaker. London.

LIVERPOOL, in the extent of its commerce, the number of ships that visit its harbour, and the enterprising character of its inhabitants, has long been the rival of London. In its extended line of docks, its facilities for loading and unloading vessels, the accommodations of its market places, the extent and magnificence of its exchange, the literary wealth of its libraries, the splendour and capaciousness of its news and reading rooms, the public spirit of its corporation, and in some departments of trade, it even surpasses the metropolis.

Innumerable ages have conspired to raise London to its present state of prosperity; while Liverpool, from an obscure fishing town, within little more than a century, has, through the local advantages of its situation, and the industry of its inhabitants, acquired its pre sent commercial glory. Few places are to be found on the globe, in which the British flag has been unfurled, where the name of Liverpool is unknown; and should it continue to advance during the present century as it has through the last, commerce will hesitate whether to leave her temple on the margin of the Thames, or transfer it to the banks of the Mersey. In an elegant poem entitled Mount Pleasant, by William Roscoe, Esq., the town of Liverpool is thus characterized :

"Yet scarce a hundred annual rounds have run, Since first the fabric of this power begun; His noble waves inglorious Mersey roll'd, Nor felt his waves by labouring art controll'd. Along his sides a few small cots were spread, His finny brood their humble tenants fed."

Tho' our path be known
To the Heavens alone,
And yon silent lights above,-
There are hearts that e'en now
Breathe for us the vow
And the wordless prayer of Love.

There are eyes that shall beam
With a tearful gleam,

There are voices, whose accents sweet
Shall yet sweeter be beard
For the faulter'd word,

That our coming can scarcely greet.

Then give the white sail
To the joyous gale,
Till her yards the billows kiss-
Till rapid she seem

As the kindling dream

Of Love, and of Hope, and Bliss.

AUTHORS are proverbially poor; and from time immemorial Grub-street has been assigned to poets for their habitations. To many, whose works have met with a favourable reception, and whose names are registered in the archives of fame, such assignments may prove very amusing; but the writer of these letters, though never elevated to a sky-parlour in the vicinity of Moor-lane, seems to have experienced through life, that poverty, and its companion wretchedness, have something more than a fictitious existence. With the phantoms of expectation, and the realities of disappointment, he has been long familiar; and has learnt from the most convincing of all instructors, that to describe misery, and to bear it with fortitude, require talents of a very different order.

Although the volumes before us appear anonymously, the author's name is not altogether unknown. From one of his letters we gather, that "The Royal Minstrel” is the production of his pen. This work, which bears the name of J. F. Pennie as its author, we reviewed in our third volume, for 1821, col. 481, and noticed it in terms rather flattering, than unfavourable, to the writer's talents; and notwithstanding several years have elapsed since its publication, and it appears to have been thrown by among the forgotten and unknown, we hesitate not to avow it as our decided conviction, that it contains more intrinsic merit than a considerable portion of metrical compositions, which puffs and friendship have raised to the temple of renown. The fate, however, to which it seems to be at present consigned, is nothing more than the common lot which many works of genius have been doomed to endure, and in 109.-VOL. X.

which they have been destined to perish. But although at present enveloped in a cloud, a favourable breeze may hereafter arise to disperse the fog, and bring it into public notice and deserved esteem. We have lately learnt, that a tragedy, by the same author, has been successfully introduced at the Cobourg theatre. This

may, perhaps, prove the crisis of his fate. Another favourable turn will cause a luminous halo to encircle his name, and then his works will be sought with an avidity, that may be contrasted with the stagnant calm in which they have been suffered to lie at anchor through departed years.

It has been sometimes said of physicians, that "they rarely earn their bread until they have lost their teeth." To Mr. Pennie a similar remark may be painfully applicable, as the volumes before us resemble the roll of Ezekiel, written, within and without, with lamentations, mourning, and woe.

Possessed of a lively imagination, a strong and vigorous intellect, and with an understanding that knew how to estimate the value of learning, but with a purse too scanty to furnish the means of acquiring it, the author in early life commenced a course of self-instruction, and having made considerable improvements, he solaced himself with the hope, that some friend would, in time, step forth to rescue him from poverty and obscurity. With this view he sent several fugitive pieces into the world, and with the eyes of Argus watched their progress with unceasing solicitude. Several professed friends and patrons accordingly appeared, but they only excited fallacious expectations, to imbitter the disappointment that invariably followed.

Finding authorship unprofitable, patrons deceiving, and poverty intolerable, the author became, in turn, a merchant's clerk, an usher, a schoolmaster, and a strolling player; but in each department wretchedness was his only reward. During a long season he braved these disasters with an heroic spirit; but at length their continuance and complications becoming insupportable, he sat down, and in a state of despondency composed these letters, which record his adventures and misfortunes.

Independently of what relates immediately to himself, he introduces historical notices of the places which he visited, and describes in forcible language the scenes which occasionally surrounded him. His observations on men and things are sometimes acute, pointed, and sarcastic; and at other times his language is glowing and energetic. But even his most lively strokes of humour are frequently tinged with an

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air of melancholy; so that while we smile at what he has written, we can hardly avoid heaving a sigh of pity in behalf of the author. Goaded on by hunger and demi-nakedness, he sometimes utters bitter complaints against the blindness, the selfishness, and the ingratitude of the age, and occasionally barbs his javelin with unjustifiable severity. For these strictures, however, his forlorn situation furnishes a powerful apology, and we forgive the asperity of his expressions, when we reflect on his destitute condition, and sympathize with those agonized feelings which urged him on to exasperation.

After passing through these letters, one hundred and twenty in number, and surveying their alternations of light and shade, the curtains of a polar winter gather thick and fast around us. The gleams of hope, and the cheerings of expectation, decline on the margins of the horizon, or only peep occasionally between the hills. In every letter, as we advance towards the conclusion, we approximate the frozen region of hopeless anguish, till at length the sun totally disappears, and we enter the dreary night of remediless despair, which the author in his last epistle thus describes :—

"How often have I hoped, and felt but too confident, as fresh and surprising prospects broke upon me, and new friends were raised up, who, pitying my situation, strenuously endeavoured to serve me, and turn the tide of relentless fortune, that all my troubles were past; that permanent comfort, peace, and happiness, would shine forth like the evening sun after a day of darkness and storms; and all be tranquillity and brightness to the close. But I have no longer a hope left, that there can be any substantial comfort or happiness in this life reserved for me. Every new expectation has been blighted in the bud; every prospect, that seemed to dawn upon me in light and beauty, has been quickly overcast with thick clouds of darkness and cruel disappointment!" p. 323.

"My miseries, as you well know, have been told in the public ear repeatedly; but few, yery few, have ever deigned to listen to the melancholy tale of private suffering. To those who have listened, and cast a benignant eye of pity on me and mine, I fain would publicly offer a poor but lasting tribute,-THE TRIBUTE OF A GRATEFUL HEART, which will bear the remembrance of their exalted friendship and goodness to the grave. To those of my own county, who possess either influence, riches, or power, with one or two pleasing exceptions, I owe no thanks. Yet some there are in the full enjoyment of wealth and distinction,

who, like the prond Pharisee, have passed by my lowly hermitage with the utmost disdain, lolling in their splendid chariots, utterly regardless, though not ignorant, of my disappointments and my sorrows." pp. 324, 325.

This world is all a blank to me, and the grave is the only retreat I look to for the sweet period of my sufferings. Yet such has been the wonderful Providence, and I am sure you cannot fail to have remarked it,-which has been exercised towards me through all my eventful pilgrimage, that I trust the darkness of complete despair will never overshadow me again: for I am convinced with St. Pierre, that there is a species of courage more necessary and more wise than that of self-destruction, which makes us support, without witness and without applause,, the various vexations of life,

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leaning not upon the opinions of others, but upon and Shakspeare says. the will of God. Patience is the courage of virtue,'

'In struggling with misfortunes

Lies the true proof of virtue.'

My misfortunes have always been, alas for me! but too real my complainings have not arisen from a morbid, nervous irritability! my wants have neither been imaginary nor artificial, nor my sorrows fictitious or ideal. In stating thus much, I am not desirous of attracting undue sympathy from the benevolent; and harbour no thought of extorting something, at last, like notice and compassion from those persons called reviewers.

"There was a time, indeed, when at the sight of a review my heart would leap with hope and fear: there was a time, when it was in the power of a critic to have poured a flood of unutterable delight and glory o'er the darkness of my path, and made me feel towards him as an Indian towards his sun-god in the season of abundance, or the joyous hour of victory; not by flattery, for that I had not the means wherewith to purchase, but by an honest and candid discharge of his duty, selfenjoined on him, and due to me and the public, for whom he professed to be a literary caterer. But that is past. I am soured, disgusted, misanthropic ! The destruction of all my hopes has rendered me callous as the nether millstone! I neither court applause, nor heed the utmost severity. I am buried deep in the grave of disappointment; and those who should have kindly led me into light and hope, have heaped oblivion on the ashes of my genius. It cannot blaze again.

Neglect has done its worst.

-Nothing can touch me further." My spirits are destroyed, my health impaired, and my expectations blasted; while the future is all darkness, save that guiding beam of Providence which points to another and a brighter orb, where the tears of misery are wiped away, and the day of eternal joy succeeds to the gloom and bitterness of the long and wintry night of life." pp. 326 to 329.

On taking a retrospective survey of this "tale of a modern genius," a melancholy picture is presented to our view, the shadows of which acquire a darker hue, from being delineated with the pencil of truth. That the author is a man of highly respectable talents, no person acquainted with his writings can for a moment doubt, but these have hitherto been found insufficient to bring him into public notice. A few rays of light seem at present to beam upon him, from the success of his tragedy of Ethelwolf, at the Cobourg Theatre, and we shall be glad to learn that they continue to illuminate his path, and warm the vital principle of life through the evening of his days. Without this, he will be compelled with his latest breath to subscribe to the following sentiment of Dr. Johnson, that

He who finds his way to reputation through all obstructions, must acknowledge that he is indebted to other causes besides his learning and his wit."

REVIEW.-A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, adapted to the State and Conditions of all Orders of Christians. By William Law, A. M. with an Introductory Essay by the Rev.

David Young. Duodecimo. pp. 508. Whittaker. London. 1827. THE early writings of the Rev. William Law, at one time created a strong sensation in the religious world, but this was in a great measure neutralized by the mysticism which distinguished the publications of his later years. It must, however, be admitted, that the excellence of his early productions, cannot be invalidated by any subsequent eccentricities of mind or sentiment, into which the author afterwards deviated. Immutability attaches itself to truth, and nothing

"Can make that fiction which was once a fact."

In this light, Law's Serious Call has always been viewed, and from the first moment of its publication to the present, it has sustained an exalted rank in the estimation of the wise and pious of all denominations. By an art, if such it may be termed, peculiar to this author, he has contrived to animate every sentence with imperishable vigour, enforcing the truths he inculcates, with arguments and reasonings that are irresistible, and enlivening them by illustrations that adorn conviction, while they augment its power. Few works have obtained so extensive a circulation, and it will not be easy to select many that are more deserving of being transmitted to posterity.

It cannot be denied, that on the great doctrine of the atonement, Mr. Law has been somewhat sparing in his expressions; and when the subject has called for his attention, his language has been characrerized by caution and reserve. This, however, can furnish no just ground for an impeachment of his orthodoxy. He saw what many others have seen, that without due care it might be converted into a harbour to shelter the antinomian heresy, against the pernicious nature and tendency of which, the whole force of this "Devout Call" is particularly levelled.

The deficiencies, however, which some have fancied they discover in this masterly treatise of Mr. Law, Mr. Young has amply supplied in his preliminary essay. The atonement, the righteousness of Christ, and imputation, are the burden of his dissertation; and it will be well, if, in all its parts it is so guarded, that, while he sincerely and unequivocally disavows antinomianism, it cannot be deduced from what he has written, by the most indubitable inference. Mr. Law plainly perceived, from doctrines which were advanced by too many in his day, that although they stopped short while pursuing their principles, the consequence

was inevitable; and had he lived to the present day, his views would be rather confirmed than corrected, by what is advanced in some modern pulpits, and taught in several modern schools.

The great design of Mr. Law was to inculcate the necessity of "a devout and holy life," and to impress this important truth deeply upon the minds of all his readers. On this point he has concentrated nearly all that the force of argument, the vigour of intellect, the influence of motive, and the authority of scripture, can confer. It is scarcely possible to read what he has advanced without being convinced that truth and reason place what he has advanced beyond the reach of refutation. In a library of select Christian authors, Law's "Devout Call" is entitled to a conspicuous place, and Mr. Collins has done well to give this neatly printed edition of a work which Dr. Johnson pronounced to be "The best hortative treatise in the English language."

BRIEF SURVEY OF BOOKS.

1. The Existence, Nature, and Ministry of Holy Angels, briefly considered as an important Branch of the Christian Religion, &c. (Baynes, London,) seems to be the production of an author that loves to deal in wonders, to soar in clouds, and dive in mysteries. Proceeding from what is but obscurely understood, to what is almost wholly unknown, he works out his inferences in comparative darkness, and con. gratulates himself on the importance of his own discoveries.

2. Little Frank the Irish Boy, by Charlotte Elizabeth, (Westley and Davis, London,) is a pretty little tale, that is both pleasing aud instructive. It contains, within narrow limits, an excellent delineation of Irish manners, of the power of the Romish priests, and of the superstition of the people. The character of Little Frank, by birth a Protestant, is well sustained. He meets with many disasters and much persecution, but finally triumphs over every opposition.

3. The Elements of Arithmetic &c. by John Dozell, (Courthope, London,) contains the elementary principles of this useful science, which are laid down in a manner that is at once rational, perspicuous, and familiar.

4. Memoirs of the Life of Mrs. Mary Taft, formerly Miss Barritt, written by Herself, Part II. (Stephens, London,) is the completion of a work, the former part of which passed under our