uniform. In one corner this is especially observable, where it seems as if some mighty hurricane had passed along the forest at the height of ten or twelve yards from the ground, sweeping away whatever impeded its progress, and had left but these withered trunks to mark its desolating path. But though this side of the forest be less interesting than the other, the difference is amply made up by the extensive view of a beautiful and well wooded valley, which you have from the brow of the eminence on which the forest stands. Immediately below, a grey," ivy-mantled" tower rises from amongst the trees; it is that of the ancient church of Edwinstow, a beautiful little village, not uncelebrated in the annals of the Lord of Sherwood.

But amid all this magnificent scenery, where nature is viewed in her most natural and at the same time in her grandest form, it is impossible to free the mind from a sense of desolation, proceeding principally from the solitude and stillness of the place, unbroken, except by the whistle of a few labourers going to or returning from their work; for the deer, though very plentiful in the adjoining parks, are not allowed to stray beyond their limits to tread those wide domains which once they occupied free and unrestrained; and

Now the bugle sounds no more,

And the twanging bow no more;
Silent is the ivory shrill,

Past the heath and up the hill,
There is no mid-forest laugh,
Where lone Echo gives the half
To some wight, amazed to hear
Jesting deep in forest drear.

THE ESSAYIST. No. 10.

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

Ar a time when every one seems ambitious of the office of a public instructor; when all who can read seem to think themselves called upon to write; a few remarks on our native language may not come amiss, and the more especially so, as we would therein call the attention of our readers to the superior power, melody, and expressive eloquence of the rich, racy, and nervous Saxon of our old English writers, and indeed of our immediate ancestors, as compared with the weak mixture which is too often served up to the people as English, (they ought to call it American) by the would-be master spirits of the present enlightened era. And whence arises this almost universal corruption of the vernacular idiom, which threatens to reduce our once noble and impressive language, to an almost unintelligible jargon ? It plainly springs from the much-boasted "march of intellect," which has miraculously converted the labouring population of our great towns into a race of enlightened philosophers and politicians; has wonderfully excited and enlarged the organs of acquisi

tiveness, and self-esteem among the cabmen, and breathing its allpervading influence into their souls, has, in imagination,

"Raised them from a coachman's fate,

"To govern men, and guide the state."

Now this newly-spawned race of philosophers and embryo legislators could not exist without a due supply of intellectual nourishment, suited to their peculiar appetites, and their enormous digestive powers. But whence was this supply to come? Sound English scholars, men educated in the truly ennobling principles inculcated in our unrivalled universities, could not condescend to pander to the evil passions and excite the envious inclinations of their fellow men, to misinform and mislead the ever-fickle and captious multitude. What then was to be done? "They manage these things better in France." The great philosophers of the "great nation" did not disdain to enlighten the people-a Frenchman never disdains any thing by which a fleeting popularity may be acquired; his organs of self-esteem, and love of flattery, are so enormous, that truth, justice, and benevolence are all sacrificed to them; so that we have seen the carrying ont of these principles, so eloquently advocated by the learned Bayle, and after him by Voltaire, Rousseau, Diderot, D'Alembert, and their baser imitators, the Crebillons, Marivaux, et id genus omne, devour all that was rich, and worthy, and noble in the land, and reduce the finest kingdom in Europe to a blood-stained wilderness, the abode of reckless and lawless savages.

But the science of French philosophy is of very easy acquisition. It only requires the hardihood to attack all established and timehallowed laws and institutions,-to give the lie to all acknowledged and eternal truths,-to call history an old almanack, religion a nursery fable! We cannot, then, wonder that we have soon found abundance of philosophers to conduct our periodical press, and to enlighten the rising generation. What men of education could not stoop to perform, has been done by quondam journeymen printers, and newspaper reporters, who have thus raised themselves to literary eminence, and become the reformers of our laws, our manners, and our language. It would not of course be consistent with the dignity of such eminent literary characters to make use of the vulgar tongue, and to condescend to write intelligible English. No; their language must manifest at least an appearance of learning; therefore it is interlarded with all the foreign words which they can manage to press into their service, and with all the unenglish idioms that their ingenuity can adopt. They have another custom, also, which has now become universal amongst them-that of coining words. They cannot be satisfied with the present vocabulary of our language, but are continually intent on endeavouring to find out new words to express their ideas, which might often be a great deal better expressed by the old ones. And they not only do this when there is no word in the language exactly suited to their purpose; but even when they may obtain a word exactly synonymous, they prefer the invention of one for themselves, to supersede it if possible. Now, what imaginable

advantage can be derived from the introduction of new words, of enormous length, harsh sound, and uncouth terminations, as these words almost universally are? And as our nearest neighbours, and those with whom we hold the greatest communication, will naturally furnish us most extensively with the means of altering our language, so we find that it is becoming every day more assimilated to the French.

Now, unfortunately for our rising literature, the French language, though it does very well in common conversation, is the most irregu lar, feeble, and inexpressive in Europe. To prove this, we have only to examine their poetry, (the surest test, perhaps, of any, of the intrinsic merits of a language,) but especially that of their Epic writers, and such a cold and bombastic style has never characterized the writers of any other nation, ancient or modern. Yet this is the language with which our own noble and simple Saxon is becoming every day more and more corrupted, as if we had not already long ago received too great an admixture of it. But not satisfied with alloying the language ourselves, we call in the aid of our transatlantic brethren, and adopt almost all their improvements, till, between Gallicisms and Americanisms, little is left of the original Saxon. Let us take an instance from one of the most popular writers of the present day, Lady Morgan :-" Educating her for the harem, but calling on her for the practices of the portico, man expects from his odalisque the firmness of the stoic, and demands from his servant the exercise of those virtues which, placing the élite of his own sex at the head of the muster-roll, give immortality to the master." In conclusion, we recommend our readers, if they wish to acquire a pure English style, and to see instances of our language in its original and unadulterated state, to study the works of Swift, of Isaac Barrow, of Dr. South, and the Bible.

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Fatalism.-At one time, when Napoleon had escaped from a conspiracy which had been formed against his life, his friends urged him not to expose himself imprudently and unnecessarily to the dangers which menaced him, from the dissatisfaction which pervaded Paris. 'If," said he, "the man had fired, he would probably have killed or wounded one of my aides de camp." "And why not yourself?" "Because I do not think that my time has yet arrived. Think you that I attribute only to myself and to my skill the extraordinary actions which I have performed? No; a superior power urges me to an end of which I am ignorant; and until that end be attained I shall be invulnerable; but as soon as I cease to be necessary, a fly will suffice to overthrow me."-Segur.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

We have been obliged to omit "The Dream," from want of room; it shall appear in our

next.

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CHAP. IX-Discovers a Friend where one was little expected to be found.

IMMEDIATELY recovering from the embarrassinent in which the sudden intelligence of the stranger had thrown him, De Warholme advanced a few steps to meet his servant, who came up in a few moments, but was so much out of breath, that it was some time before he could recover himself sufficiently to tell his master that Captain Farren requested his instant attendance at the castle.

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Why, what is in the wind now ?" said De Warholme, who, notwithstanding his fears, could not help smiling at his servant's vain attempts fully to explain the nature and cause of his errand.

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Well, sir," at length he exclaimed, "unless we begin to look more carefully about us we shall all be taken up and executed. What do you think now? There's an officer come to arrest young Mr. Mordaunt and the doctor. Why," continued he, not observing in the countenance of his master the expression of surprise which he had expected, "you must have heard it all before ?"

"I did indeed hear that a bill of arrest had been made out against them, but did not expect it to have been so soon issued. It is but this instant that I have received intelligence from our friends in London."

So saying, he gave the letter which he still held open in his hand, to David, who after a careful perusal of it, declared it to be his decided opinion that the rise should be immediately made among the tenantry, who, with the assistance of the retainers in the castle, might easily, he said, expel the garrison from its walls.

In vain Sir Philip remonstrated, saying that now was not the time, and that by such rash proceedings they would ruin both themselves and their cause, for that none of their party would be prepared for it, and no foreign troops were landed; that the rise, when it was made, must be simultaneous and well supported on all hands.

Yet still David persisted that they must be defended at all hazards, and that any thing was preferable to delivering up to the enemy a member of his household and a friend, who had trusted himself to his honour and hospitality.

In vain Sir Philip remonstrated, endeavouring to prove to the honest fellow the folly of such a course as he proposed; and at length, by the time they reached the gate, David had quite worked himself into a rage at his master's obstinacy, for he could not possibly imagine that straightforward conduct was at any time or in any way to be yielded to the dictates of prudence.

Here they were met by another person, one of Farren's own troops, who had been sent out on the same errand as David. Coming forward, he requested De Warholme to follow him to his master's apartment, and turning round he walked forward, leading the way in silence.

"Will you take a seat?" said Farren, rising as De Warholme entered, and motioned to a large arm-chair in one corner of the chimney.

"Such was my intention," said De Warholme as he stepped forward without replying to the salutation of the other, and sneering as he added-" surely you did not suppose that in my own castle I should have thought of standing before any one but my king ?"

So saying, he sat down, and taking off his hat laid it on the table near him.

Farren made no reply to this remark, for he saw the ill-humour which Sir Philip was in, and had no desire to increase it; but when he was himself seated began

"I wished to speak with you on some important communications which I have received from the government. I wish, Sir Philip de Warholme, that you could look on me in the light I have always wished you to do-as a friend."

Here the knight manifested signs of impatience.

"I assure you that my feelings towards you have always been friendly. I understand the meaning of that frown: you would say that they have not been mutual. I know it well: would it had been otherwise. Unwilling as you may be to own it, you must feel that my feelings towards you have been such as I describe. Have I ever intruded myself into your privacy? Have I ever interfered with the officers of your household, or executed to their full extent the harsher orders which I have received from the Protector? No. You cannot deny but that your pleasures have been unrestrained, and your communication with your friends from without unimpeded. True, you have not been allowed to introduce them within the walls; but the necessity of this course you must yourself see, as, if this regulation was not enforced, you might at any time admit a body of enemies into the castle whom my feeble garrison would be unable to resist. But I must read you the letter which I have received from the Protector.

The purport of the epistle the reader has been already made acquainted with; but there was another paragraph which he has not