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agreeable incidents and practised writing of the author.

Chronicles of the Crutch. By Blanchard Jerrold. 5s. (Wm. Tinsley.) These are some papers of the light order of literature, which, we think, may he compared to individuals of whom their friends say, " They are amusing and harmless fejlows, with whom we are always willing to chat away an idle half-hour in a sunny corner." For the fellowship of lite and the world they are worthless; but then they have their worth, and that we may cheerfully accord the " Chronicles of the Crutch."

The May Queen. By Alfred Tennyson. Illustrated by E. Y. B. 7s. 6d. (Low & Son.) Upwards of thirty Germanesque illustrations are bestowed on the Laureate's little poem, which, by the way, we cannot help thinking is overrated, an opinion which these original and tender conceptions only serve to support—a prosaic inscription under each would serve the place of the poem. Nevertheless, taken together, as a whole, the pictured meaning will reach the heart, and perchance moisten many a reader's eye.

Introduction to the History of French Literature. By Gustave Masson. 2s. 6rf. (A. & C. Black.) This is a welL written manual, honestly and carefully compiled, and will be of much service as a text-book for schools and universities ; nor is the criticism of the French works under notice unworthy of more genera^ reading by those familiar with the literature of our friends and neighbours. ,

Popular Tales of the West Highlands. By J. T. Campbell. 2 vols. 16s. (Edmonston and Douglas.) This is a unique work, which will be dear to antiquarians, whilst the simplicity of the traditional ballads and stories, gleaned with much difficulty from oral and local historians, will command a wide circulation amongst the masses of a reading people, proud of their traditions and national songs.

Gertrude Melton; or, Nature's Nohlema7i. Is. Gd. (Saunders, Otley, & Co.) There may be objections to the feelings which actuate this Nature's Nobleman ; indeed, we question if his patent of nobility would be accepted at the Heralds' Office at all ; but as the book is readable and interesting, few will care to inquire if nature bestowed especial nobility on the principal character.

Texts for Talkers. By Frank Fowler. 3s. 6d. (Saunders, Otley, & Co.) It has been said that gnomic writing, like "Guesses at Truth"and" Proverbial Philosophy," is popular, because people will not trouble themselves to read or think much. Mr. Frank Fowler takes the paragraph which contains this statement as one of the mottoes to his pleasant little book—a book written in scraps, and meant to be so read. Mr. Fowler evidently has a great talent for admiring able writers, and possesses some measure of literary ability himself. His chief merit is a simple style, generally easy and intelligible; his chief defect is a tendency to write down as a thought what, on examination, is often only

Vol. I.—44

a platitude. Laconic writing, to be of value' must involve thought, and we will not say that Mr. Fowler does not frequently hit upon an idea; but sometimes his sharp little sentences are as devoid of point and originality as those which are set as copies for children. He tells us, for example, that " some men can only be abashed by stricture and severity"; it would be quite as important to state that some teeth will only cease to ache when they are extracted. Again, we find it stated that "religion is the key we carry in this world to let us into the next." This is obvious enough, but not ingenious, and certainly not worth putting in a book. Any young lady of eighteen will make you a string of such figurative aphorisms in ten minutes. Many of Mr. Fowler's sententious observations are, however, better than these, and he is generally felicitous in his brief critical remarks about the writers he admires. He versifies prettily, but with too little care.

Modern Statesmen. By J. E. Ritchie. 5s. (Tweedie.) This is a series of sketches taken from the Strangers' [? Reporters'] Gallery. It embraces most of our leading politicians, whom the author " photographs" in a rather happy, though somewhat pretentious style. The book reminds us a little of the " Random Recollections of the House of Commons" by Mr. Grant, only without much of the bad taste and false statements which characterised that most successful of all third-rate books. The sketches include Pahnerston, Russell, D'Israeli, Bright, Stanley, Gladstone, Sidney Herbert, Horsman, Lindsay, Bentinck, Bernal Osborne, Whiteside, F. Peel, J. A. Roebuck, " Viscount" Williams, &c. Taking them all in all, they are racy, vigorous, and life-like, and certainly far above the average of such compositions; owing to the great curiosity of the public about our rulers, the book will probably command a good sale. The best two photographs in the work are those of Mr. D'Israeli and Mr. Gladstone, the men whose respective characters offer perhaps the most salient points of' all our senators. Mr. Ritchie is already well known to the public by his " Night-Side of London," the '. London Pulpit," and other popular works "photographed" from life in a similar manner.

Bruin ; or. the Grand Bear Hunt. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 5s. (Routledge.) This author reminds us of Philip's Spanish picture, where the Letter Writer writes an amorous billet dictated by a pretty senora; the clever old scribe puts into shape the tender messages sent to some happy Jose, about whom, personally, he knows nothing, no more than Capt. Reid knows about all the countries which he makes interesting to the lovers of adventure. Nevertheless, he is a graphic narrator of incidents of thrilling interest, gleaned from no majter what quarter—though, we confess, not from personal observation. Capt. Reid here hits on a novel expedient. A certain Russian count, when his sons desire to travel, consents to their wishes, but fits them with a purpose for their journey—they are to follow, hunt, and bring home the skin of a bear of every Y nown species ; and as the Swedish naturalists had defined their number to a large extent, the young hunters have to traverse the world all round for the haunts of Brown, Black, Polar, Grisly, and every other description of Bruin. Their adventures are of course exciting to young readers: but to others, a tendency to descriptive redundancy renders the author tedious.

On Winds and Storms, with an Essay on Weather and its Varieties. By Thomas Hopkins, M.B.M.S. 7*. 6d. (Longmans.) Thomas Campbell mourns the withdrawal by science of enchantment's veil from nature's face, and the wind, and the storm, hitherto employed in poetic imagery as the embodiments of all that is free and wild, are being tracked out to their rise, and followed in their course, and shown to be bound by restricting laws. However, science is the proudest triumph of civilisation, and when directed to such a subject as the present, is of real practical utility ; for to trace the. conclusions of nature will be, as in ascertaining the cause of a disease, to be warned of the consequence. Many of the hypotheses of Mr. Hopkins are put forward in a convincing manner, but, on the whole, his work may be considered rather as suggestive than conclusive ; and to publish a system, even if fallacious, tends to the development of the right conclusion ; since, in combating the error, truth is ultimately elicited. The book is comprehensive : of the playful zephyr and the wild hurricane—the regulated trade-wind of an ocean and the fitful monsoon of a continent, it treats by turns. It exhibits research and scrutinising labour ; and, whatever its merits may be, it cannot but arrest attention ; as a man in the street may accost you, although he cannot convince you of his acquaintance.

Our Exemplars, Poor and Rich. Edited by Matthew Davenport Hill, with a Preface by Lord Brougham. 5s. (Cassell.) In these biographical sketches of men and women, the Editor (who is the well-known Recorder of Birmingham) has brought together certain characters, mostly of humble origin, who, by the praiseworthy exercise of their opportunities, have benefited their fellow-creatures. The preface by Lord Brougham reads to us like an apology for the selection made by the Editor of the workers and philanthropists, nor can we suppose another complier other than the respected Recorder would ever have associated the individuals presented in this portrait gallery of our " Exemplars." Lord Brougham, probably, must have felt the incongruity of the characters in this book, a supposition which accounts for so clever an advocate as his Lordship saying that " this work does not attempt to fill up the blank left by former writers." The selection of biographies is defective. It should have been better. We question the fitness of introducing Lord Shaftesbury and Sir Rowland Hill in the company of John Bunyan, Father Mathew, the King of Portugal, and. others.

It will take its stand—not side by side—but far below, Smiles's " Self-Help" and Professor Craik's " Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties."

Recollections of General Garibaldi. 10s. 6c?. (Saunders, Otley, & Co.) The fair equestrian, to whom we owe this book, has no reason to apologise for her spirit of adventure. The ladies of England are not easily daunted ; there is the material of heroines in modt of them ; and one hundred and one days on horseback through Italy is nothing to what some feminine adventurers have accomplished. This book is eminently readable. Its writer saw all that was worth seeing, wherever she went; and she appears to possess the faculty of eliciting the histories of their lives from people of the most reticent character. Hence, although of course the personal account of Garibaldi is the most interesting feature of the book, yet the marvellous narrative of Dottore, and the curious conversation of Captain R , the friend

of Shelley and Byron, are episodes that will delight all readers. The description of thebeautiful islet of Maddalena is not unworthy to be compared with that most charming of" travel-books, the Corsica of Gregorovius. The 5yle in which the authoress writes i* remarkably pleasant and unpretending.

The Life and Letters of Mrs. Emily Judsomr By A. C. Kendrick. 3s. 6d. (Nelson.) Thesubject of this memoir was a "voluminouscorrespondent," a prolific "poetess," and a very productive "writer." Hence Mr. Kendrick's pardonable enthusiasm. Not having carried us altogether away with its avalanchlike impetus, we are able to sit calmly down and wade through the whole mass of correspondence, poetry, &c. Mrs. Judson was, beyond all question, an amiable woman, with a highly-cultivated mind and a "taste" for poetry. Her correspondence and writings bear ample testimony to this extent. But beyond this we cannot go. She was the wife of the Rev. Dr. Judson, the missionary to Burmah, and her correspondence from that remote land is interesting. All in all, these memoirs possess sufficient interest to repay perusal.

Metrical Annals of the Kings and Queens of England, from the Time of the Conquest to the Reign of Victoria. The words and music by George Linley. 10s. 6d. (Addison.) It is not easy to shine in two spheres at one and the same time. If, therefore, we lean to the musical composer, in preference to the writer of the words, (we prefer this expression to that of" poet,") it is the fault of Mr. Linley's genius. In this handsome volume we have a novel combination, in the shape of a metrical and musical history ef England. The idea is novel, and the effect striking. Mr. Linley evidently intends his work fop children, to> whose memories he appeals through the ear; All the airs are simple—some quaint—and many melodious.

Alliance Press, Bomb*y: Chesson & Woodhall, Printer*.

L

MISCELLANY.

A MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

Part v.] BOMBAY: MARCH, 1861. [vol. I.

[By the Author of" Weeps Of Poesy."]

i.

The Song of Songs is borne from Salem's towers :*
"Wake, my beloved, wake !—the myrtle bowers

For thee in vernal pride are blooming;

For thee resuming
Their notes of love, the feathered warblers hail

Returning Spring in every grove.

My beautiful, my love,
Wake ! give thy ringlets to the morning gale!"

2.

Hark ! how the tuneful Kalidasa sings

"Bright son of Maya, spread thy golden wings \\

Come, Smara, in thy glory beaming,

Thy locks wide-streaming
In wavy wreaths the scented air along,

While young Vasanta leads thy train :§

God of the bloomy cane—
Still may thy genial flame inspire my song!"

3.

What strains of music breathe from Scio's grove?
What fairy forms amid its mazes rove?

Now they in glittering troops assemble,

Their light harps tremble,
While, ever as they knit the mirthful dance,

Eros, to thee their songs are. breathed,

For thee their brows are wreathed,
Blithe Prince of young desire and the love-beaming glance!

* " The Song of Songs, which is Solomon's." (Canticles, i. 1.) t Kalidasa, a Hindu bard (b. C. 57), author of Sakontala.

t Smara, Camdeo, Caraa: son of Maya (the Attractive Power), married to Betty (Affection) ; "the same with the Grecian Eros and the Latin Cupido.

§ Vasanta, or Bessent (Spring), the friend and constant companion of Camdeo. —Sir William Jones.

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How soft on Seville's towers the moonbeams sleep I
Thro' graceful trees ye gentle breezes creep,

Wafting the minstrel's plaintive numbers

Where sweetly slumbers'
In fitful dreams his dark-eyed witching maid.—

"Pis Italy : a lovely pair,

Whispering Love's sorrows there,
Blush as their bright curls meet, joy-thrilled but half afraid.

Where with swift pace descend thy foaming steeds,
Bright-haired Hyperion, Albion's western meads,

With emerald green and sheafy treasures,

To dulcet measures,
Her laughing nymphs and generous swains invite.

Nor less where Scotia's mountains rise,

Or neath Juverna's skies,*
Do Love and Beauty's dovelike smiles delight.

6:

And dwells not Love in the bright realms above?
Heard I not, " Love is Heaven, and Heaven is Love"?

There, washed in festal robes of gladness,

From all Earth's sadness,
The Sacred Bards, with songs of holy mirth

To Him whose Name is Love, the King of Kings,

Tune their immortal strings,
Blest with the sainted fair they loved so well on earth'

IN THE CITY OF THE SUN.

I Arrived at Cairo with the mulberries, and when the apricots were beginning to blush. It was the glorious month of May—a little too hot in Egypt perhaps, as I might have observed to the Clerk of the Weather, had we met. With the Natives, it was the ninth Coptic mouth, "Beshems," which had commenced on the eighth day of our month, and I and a few others solemnised it by a picnic to the City of the Sun.

In all my travels, and after all the travellers I have met, I never encountered five pleasanter companions than those who helped to make this memorable party. Strange to say, we belonged to six different countries, and

six different avocations. One was air officer in the—th Native infantry, then stationed at Jhansi; another was a son of one of the principal merchants of Bombay; a third was a naval officer, intent on joining his ship in China and be wounded in the Peiho attack; a fourth was a Hungarian or a Pole,. ready for any speculation, and who, I grieve to say, afterwards identified himself with a scurrilous paper in Bengal the fifth was a brother of a Scottish law-lord, and the sixth (the writer) was

a . One was an Irishman, another

an Englishman, the third a Frenchman, the fourth a Pole or Hungarian, and the fifth declared himself (long after his accent had done so) a true knight of the thistle. The writer was a mixture of three countries, and, consequently, retained a dignified silence

Juverna, Erin :—

"Arma quidem ultra Littora Juvevnae promovimus."

Juvenal.

From reasons which I need not explain, we elected the Scotchman cashier-ingeneral and paymaster-extraordinary. We had left England—the Englishman, Scot, Gaul, Irishman, Pole, and Mongrel having all sought the "tight little island" as a scene of departure—with journies varying from ten to fifteen thousand miles staring us in the face; and we very sensibly set aside all formality—we six,—and endeavoured to banish as far as possible all dull care away, even a few hours after the gallant ship Ripon shot through Southampton Water; and became all the more friendly as we passed the Needles, through the Channel, down the coast of Portugal, into Gibraltar. Then onwards through the Mediterranean, in at the opera at Malta, and landed at Alexandria with an ea'rnest good-bye to the old ship, which had done her duty so well. Another stage, and the steamcar bore us through the land of Egypt to Cairo, where, in this narrative, we now are.

To our great and manifested delight, we found we were to remain at Cairo two days, which would give us time to see the ruins of the ancient cities which are strewn about the Desert so profusely, and with some of which, in our infant days, the Bible made us first acquainted.

These were my thoughts, when the infantry officer, who was as indefatigable a lover of antiquity as myself, exclaimed excitedly—

"How far do you think it is to Heliopolis—the City of the Sun?"

I confessed myself inadequate to a reply.

"Six miles—just six miles!" "Six miles !" I echoed, in astonishment.

"Sax meels !" repeated the Scot.

"Let us be off!" shouted the Pole; and his suggestion was carried nem. con. The passion for visiting shrines and famous places, which prevailed preeminently in England in the Middle Ages, had certainly not abated in the bosoms of we six fellow-travellers, and Erasmus would have chronicled our pilgrimage as surely as he did those to the Virgin Lady of Walsingham. I fear that the stimulus of our devotion, however, would not benefit by a eon

trast to that of the good old woman of Bath, the indigent cloth-worker, who walked with weary feet to the shrine of Compostella. We were travelling like Chaucer's pilgrims, and not in penitent sorrow. We were sans russet, sans scallop-shells, sans rosary, sans everything symbolic:

"Every man in his wise made hertful cheer, Telling his fellow of sportes and of cheer, And of mirthes that fallen by the waye, As custom is of pilgrimes, and hath been many a daye."

Some good four hundred years ago John Carpenter, husbandman, of Brydham, in Sussex, was heard "saying to Isabella, his wyff, that was of the age of xvi. year, and had be married to him but xv. dayes, that they would goo togedre on pilgrimage, and made to araye hir in hir best arraie, and take hir with him fro the said tawne of Budham to the tawne of Stoghton, in the said shire, and there murdered horribly his wyff."

Now, it so happened that the Pole was as fond of the opposite and gentler sex as of quaint and curious relics of antiquity, and before we knew anything about it, and after we had ordered six Cairo donkeys to be brought for the expedition, he had augmented our number to eleven, by the addition of four ladies and .one gentleman. Our intentions, however, were far different to wicked John Carpenter's, who "horribly murdered his wyff," and .we set about arrangements to make our fair companions as comfortable as possible.

The Cairo asses are- amongst the finest I have seen. They must give place, certainly, to the Spanish;—and yet, by the way, the latter were obtained through Arabia and Egypt. There is a positive fiery activity and fleetness about those of Cairo, and good horsemanship or assmanship is more than advisable. These animals are larger than any in England, and, without a proper side-saddle, properly girthed, are useless to ladies as means of transit. Buckles, stitches, and straps, have a singular aptitude for suddenly severing all connection with each other, and the animals possess a facility of shooting their riders over their heads—in the way a powder-monkey might be ejected from a Whftworth gun.

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