The amiable disposition, the gentle and Insinuating manners of the sex, are all highly respected by the man, who, more robust, bold, and vigorous, is qualified for a protector. The female being delicate and timid, requires protection, and is capable of making an engaging figure under the good government of a man possessed of penetration and solid judgment. It would be injustice not to mention the peculiar and essential part of female value, MODESTY, without which, no woman is likely to command the esteem and affection of any man of sound understanding; therefore we consider the invaluable grace of a chaste and modest behaviour the best means of kindling at first, and not only of kindling but of keeping alive and increasing, this inexpressible flame. There is no reason to hesitate in saying that a good wife is one of the most valuable treasures a man can possess in this life. She causes his cares in this world to sit easy, adds sweetness to his pleasures, is his best companion in prosperity, and truest friend in adversity. She is the most careful preserver of his health, the kindest attendant during his sickness, a faithful adviser in distress, a comforter in affliction, a prudent manager of his domestic affairs, and, in short, one of the greatest blessings that Heaven can bestow upon man. Should it, however, unfortunately prove otherwise, she will be her husband's greatest trouble, will give him the utmost anxiety, and be a clog to him the remainder of life. Therefore we would advise every young gentleman, before he tampers with this passion, to consider well the probability of his being able to obtain the object of his love. If he is not likely to succeed, he will do well to avoid the company of the beloved object, to apply his mind attentively to business or study, and endeavour if possible to fix his affections on another, which it may be in his power to obtain. The affections reciprocally gained, mutual love will endear them to each other, and make constancy a pleasure; and when their youthful days are over, esteem and genuine regard will remain in the mind, making pleasant, even in old age, the company of such a pair, in whose actions are manifested the most tender affections of husband, wife, lover, friend. S.S. (From Fisher's Portrait Gallery, a work every way deserving the exalted reputation and honourable patronage it has acquired.) "MR. T. a young gentleman with a broken limb, which refused to heal long after the fracture, went to consult Mr. Abernethy; and, as usual, was entering into all the details of his complaint, when he was thus stopped almost in limine-Pray, sir, do you come here to talk, or to hear me? If you want my advice, it is so and so-I wish you a good morning.' "On one occasion, a lady, unsatisfied with previous information, persisted in extracting from Mr. A. what she might eat, and, after suffering from her volubility with considerable patience for awhile, he exclaimed to the repeated May I eat oysters, doctor? May I eat suppers?' 'I'll tell you, madam, you may eat any thing but the poker and the bellows, for the one is too hard of digestion, and the other is full of wind.'" Miss I consulted him on a nervous disorder, the minutiæ of which appeared to be so fantastical, that Mr. Abernethy interrupted the frivolous detail, by holding out his hand for the fee. A one-pound note and a shilling were placed in it; upon which he returned the latter to his fair patient, with the angry exclamation, "There, ma'am! go and buy a skipping rope: that is all you want." "Mr. Abernethy's Courtship. It is told, that while attending a lady for several weeks, he observed those admirable qualifications in her daughter, which he truly esteemed to be calculated to render the mar riage state happy. Accordingly, on a Saturday, when taking leave of his patient, he addressed her to the following purport. You are now so well, that I need not see you, after Monday next, when I shall come and pay you my farewell visit. But, in the mean time, I wish you and your daughter seriously to consider the proposal I am now about to make. It is abrupt and unceremonious, I am aware, but the excessive occupation of my time, by my professional duties, affords me no leisure to accomplish what I desire by the more ordinary course of attention and solicitation: my annual receipts amount to £, and I can settle f- on my wife: my character is generally known to the public, so that you may readily ascertain what it is: I have seen in your daughter a tender and affectionate child, an assiduous and careful nurse, and a gentle and lady-like member of a family; such a person must be all that a husband could covet, and I offer my hand and fortune for her acceptance. On Monday, when I call, I shall expect your determination; for I really have not time for the routine of courtship.' In this humour, the lady was wooed and won; and, we believe we may add, the union has been felicitous in every respect." Paradise Lost. SEEN stretch'd upon a flow'ry bank, sat one POETKY. * Sweet village Horton, thon too wert witness, And charm'd didst list the poet's madrigal, As mid thy scenes sequester'd, lone he sung, And from the channel of his dainty mind Produced "L'Aliegro," and " Il Penseroso," The concentration of all lovely things, As in a pictur'd landscape, brought to view Whate'er is fair, or beautiful in nature: Thy tender pity, too, in plaintive verse Responsive wail'd the death of Lycidas, Of Lycidas, the bosom'd friend, and lov'd Coadjutor;-who wet, untimely met, 70 75 80 Nor ceased to wander where the Muses haunt, Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song." Where darkly waves the osier o'er the stream, A wat'ry grave! These were the themes that woke The tuneful efforts of his early lyre, That sent forth strains of sweeter harmony Hoar Time 35 Hath sped his way, with noiseless wing, since which 5 The bloom that mark'd the youthful cheek hath fled, 10 sorc'ries: Supplanted by the deeper lines of manhood, 90 95 Mid all this deep privation;-say could aught 100 But more for deeds of intellectual strength, Capacious thought, godlike similitude; 30 In its wide compass, all rural objects, Naught scap'd his eye excursive, but from these Of wonderful or fair, thro' earth or sky, 40 110 Yet not the less sought he the flow'ry bank, Stood present to his view; -tho' listless sunk 45 Had not their chief, Satan, th' arch fiend, with That finds no footing, like the dove of Noah, 50 60 65 When they their new-found city 'gan to build, Bard of immortal subjects, this, this form'd 135 The Tempter, with inbred malice fraught, first 140 • A retired village in Buckinghamshire, where the illustrious poet passed the early part of his life. } Who plotted nothing less than man's defeat, For ever banish'd fruitful paradise, Thro' sin our bane, the bane of all mankind. 145 Whilst thou, with dignified sublimity, As with the wing of some superior angel, Thro' all the sapphire blaze, of kingly thrones, 150 Caught up to the third heav'ns, thou there beheld'st The glories of transcendent Deity, And the shout of th' archangels, and the voice, Tis the divinity within that lives, 170 175 Th' outpouring of the spirit immortal, "Those thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," thus seen REVIEW. Letters and Journals of Lord Byron, with Notices of his Life. By Thomas Moore. In 2 vols. vol. II. 4to. pp. 830. Murray, London, 1830. THE name, the character, the writings, and the genius of Lord Byron have been so long before the world, that very little respecting him either new or remarkable can now be said, or fairly expected. The fame, how. ever, which the productions of his pen have acquired, still exhibits colours sufficiently glowing to attract public attention; and while this can be kept alive, the solicitude which it excites will never want the means of gratification. That Lord Byron was a man of very superior talents, no person acquainted with his publications can for a moment doubt. Originality of thought, vigour of intellect, and vivacity of expression, are conspicuous in all his sentences; and even on the ground which others had previously trodden, the fertility of his imagination could always form new combinations, which dazzle by their lustre, when to moral excellence they communicate no improvement. Allured by this brilliant halo which encir2D. SERIES, NO. 2.-VOL. I. cled the name of Byron, many thousands have rallied round his standard, to catch the inspiration of his muse, and enjoy the literary fragrance scattered by her wings. By such as these his lordship's talents and genius have been duly appreciated, and in their approbation his poetical renown will remain embalmed, when new generations shall arise to compare his productions with those of other poets who are yet unborn. It cannot, however, be dissembled that while many thousands arrange themselves under the preceding character, some tens of thousands echo his name without having read his works; and, even in cases where some portions have been perused, without an ability to judge of their merits, or make a rational observation on their defects. They have heard his lordship's name, and they must learn to lisp it; they have heard his works applauded, and they must learn their titles: they have no judgment of their own, they must therefore try to catch that of others; and thus angle for an opinion, which, when obtained, they scarcely know how to express. The time and solicitude, which, if properly improved, might have led them to a rational decision for themselves on subjects where they wish to appear knowing, is spent in watching the direction in which the feather of public opinion is wafted, and, when this is ascertained, in joining the throng, and lending their ignorance to swell the notes issuing from the trumpet of fame. Among "this servile herd," although his lordship has swarms of vocal admirers, there is not one, we are fully persuaded, whom, from choice, he would have wished either to countenance or tolerate. however, follow in the train of sterling intelligence, and supply by numbers their deficiency of intellectual discernment. Their voices may awaken the attention of others of the same fraternity, and induce them to join the general cry, in raising the "momentary buzz of vain renown:" but it is not from this vast family of "the would-be," that Lord Byron can ever derive lasting reputation. They, Several months since, the first volume of this splendid work passed under our review, and in it we found much to admire and much to condemn. To talents of the highest order displayed in its pages we paid a just tribute of respect, but the spirit of licentious levity which pervaded the whole did not escape our pointed reprehension. This second volume is a counterpart to the preceding, and furnishes much occasion for censure, and much for applause. It chiefly consists of letters written by his lordship to 146. VOL. XIII. M "The circumstances under which Lord Byron now took leave of England were such as, in the case of any ordinary person, could not be considered otherwise than disastrous and humiliating. He had, in the course of one short year, gone through every variety of domestic misery; had seen his hearth eight or nine times profaned bythe visitations of the law, and been only saved from a prison by the privileges of his rank. He had alienated, as far as they had ever been his, the affections of his wife, and now, rejected by her, and condemned by the world, was betaking himself to an exile which had not even the dignity of appearing voluntary, as the excommunicating voice of society seemed to leave him no other resource. Had he been of that class of unfeeling and self-satisfied natures from whose hard surface the reproaches of others fall pointless, he might have found insensibility a sure refuge against reproach; but, on the contrary, the same sensitiveness that kept him so awake to the applauses of mankind, rendered him, in a still more intense degree, alive to their censure. Even the strange, perverse pleasure which he felt in painting himself unamiably to the world, did not prevent him from being both startled and pained when the world took him at his word; and, like a child in a mask before a looking-glass, the dark semblance which he had half in sport put on, when reflected back upon him from the mirror of public opinion, shocked even himself. "Thus surrounded by vexations, and thus deeply feeling them, it is not too much to say, that any other spirit but his own would have sunk under the struggle, and lost, perhaps icrecoverably, that level of self-esteem which alone affords a stand against the shocks of fortune. But in him, furnished as his mind was with reserves of strength, waiting to be called out, -the very intensity of the pressure brought reef by the proportionate reaction which it produced. Had his transgressions and frailties been visited with no more than their due portion of punishment, there can be little doubt that a very different result would have ensued. Not only would such an excitement have been insufficient to waken up the new energies still dormant in him, but that consciousness of his own errors, which was for ever livelily present in his mind, would, un. der such circumstances, have been left, undisturbed by any unjust provocation, to work its usual softening and, perhaps, humbling influence, on his spirit. But, luckily as it proved for the further triumphs of his genius, no such moderation was exercised. The storm of invective raised around him, so utterly out of proportion with his offences, and the base calumnies that were every where heaped upon his name, left to his wounded pride no other resource than in the same sumiconing up of strength, the same instinct of resistance to injustice which had at first forced out the energies of his youthful genius, and was now destined to give him a still bolder and loftier range of its powers. p. 2. as "But the greatest of his trials as well triumphs was yet to come. The last stage of this painful though glorious course, in which fresh power was at every step wrung from out his soul, was that at which we are now arrived-his marriage and its results, without which, dear as was the price paid by him in peace and character, his career would have been incomplete, and the world still left in ignorance of the full compass of his genius. It is indeed worthy of remark, that it was not till his domestic circumstances began to darken around him, that Lis fancy, which had long been idle, again rose upon the wing; both the Siege of Corinth, and Parisina, having been produced but a chort time before the separation. How conscious he was, too, that the turmoil which followed was the true element of his restless spirit may be col. lected from several passages of his letters at thas period, in one of which he even mentions that his health had become all the better for the conflict:'It is odd,' he says, but agitation or contest of any kind gives a rebound to my spirits, and sets me up for the time." "This buoyancy it was-this inexpressible spring of mind, that now enabled him to bear up not only against the assanits of others, but, what was still more ditticult, against his own thoughts and feelings. The muster of all his mental resources, to which in self-defence he had been driven, but opened to him the yet undreamed extent and capacity of his powers, and inspired him with a proud confidence, that he should yet shine down these calumnious mists, convert censure to wonder, and compel even those who could not approve, to admire. p. 4. The extracts given from Lord Byron's journals, are full of spirit and vivacity. His descriptions are every where animated; and his remarks on classical objects, on ages that are past, and on the writings of authors now no more, cominand the attention of the reader with an enchantment that is almost irresistible. These are always enlivening, and frequently profound. From the magnified he descends to the minute, in a manner too graceful to escape observation; and when he touches on domestic events, and personal peculiarities and occurrences, he has the happy art of rendering trifles important and interesting. His lordship's letters are all wtitten in the same strain as his journals. Every sentence is sprightly, and the ornaments of his diction seem rather to have offered themselves as volunteers, than to have been impressed into his service. The style is colloquial and familiar, but in all its parts the hand of a master is apparent. His images and allusions are both diversified and exuberant and from the profusion with which they are scattered, we are led to infer that a muen greater number swarmed round his pen, and solicited admission, than have been permitted to enjoy that honour. Both the journals and the letters abound with anecdote and incident, applying to men, to writings, and to places; and on many questionable but interesting propositions and topics, his opinion is given without any reserve. In this, a spirit of independence always predominates. He offers incense at no man's shrine, and appears to glory in his own consciousness of superiority. In these, as in many other respects, few men have ever appeared before the world with less disguise than the subject of these volumes. In the collecting and arranging of the materials, after passing them through his alembic, Mr. Moore has acted a conspicuous part. His notices and observations, thougn not numerous, are introduced with jurig i * ment, and adapted to the occasions which called them into existence. To several of these notices we are indebted for an explanation of lines and passages that occur in his lordship's poems, which by these means are divested of their otherwise native obscurity. Numerous verses are quoted to which the elucidative notices are annexed, and the light which the former derive from the latter is both diversified and considerable. Prefixed to this volume, is a pleasing portrait of his lordship at the age of nineteen, by Sanders. The engraving, by Finden, is an exquisite specimen of the graphic art. Combining the notices with the journals and letters, Mr. Moore has produced two as entertaining quarto volumes as the Euglish language can boast. It would be pleasing to add, that they are as instructive as they are amusing. On the ground of utility they are lamentably deficient; but this circumstance, it is to be feared, will operate with many readers as a strong recommendation. Favoured with a genius of the most brilliant character, and endowed with intellectual powers of the highest order; elevated on the pinnacle of fame, before which, talents that command respect from common mortals, are proud to do homage; and sustaining a name indelibly inscribed on the archives of immortality, had Lord Byron's writings been as much dignified by morals as they are ornamented by ease, vivacity, elegance, and imagery, his productions would have diffused their unsullied lustre among the brightest constellations of the human race. But, alas! justice compels us to add, that "Thoughtless folly laid him low, And spoiled his name." REVIEW. The History and Topography of the United States of North America, from the earliest period to the present time. Edited by John Howard Hinton, A. M. Six parts, to be completed in about thirty, illustrated with numerous views and maps. 4to. Hinton. London. 1831. It is observed in the prefatory address to this elegant publication, that "the rapid career in which the republic of the United States of North America has obtained its present elevated rank in the scale of nations, is without parallel in the history of the world, and its continued and accelerated progress excites a deep interest in every part of the civilized globe." This must be allowed, with some limitations; yet extraordinary as the political phenomenon undoubtedly is, a mind habituated to trace historical events through a chain of complicated causes will find no difficulty in accounting for the rapid advancement of the American republic, if, in truth, a republic it be. Carthage, to which the colossus of the new world, perhaps, bears the nearest resemblance, exhibits a spectacle far surpassing it in every respect. The United States did not spring from an obscure or feeble original, much less from a horde of uncivilized barbarians, who had their settlement to seek and secure by their own unassisted strength. The shores of North America were visited by the most enlightened men of an enlightened age, who were besides some of the brightest ornaments of their country in talent and virtue. The colonists, planted by these illustrious adventurers, partook in some measure of the merits of their patrons. They were moral, religious, and intent upon local improvement, not only for their own advantage, but ultimately for the benefit of the parent state. This reciprocation of commerce and protection produced a natural progress of population, so that within a less period than that of the independence of America, the colonists became too firmly rooted in the land to fear any thing from the native tribes. Even the civil war, which impoverished, and in some degree may be said to have weakened England, enriched and strengthened the American colonies, by driving thither numbers of opulent and industrious emigrants, who wished to live in the tranquil enjoyment of their religion and the fruits of their industry. As the parent country was interested in the improvement of the transatlantic establishments, it happened singularly enough, that while the people in England were suffering under many privations and oppressions, civil and religious, the colonists were actually enjoying liberty to the utmost extent. By this means the American states prospered to such a degree, that new importations of settlers were attracted to that coast, where woods and swamps gave way to fertile plantations and populated towns. This state of things progressively improved, till the rapacity and immorality of the new colonists led them to make encroachments upon the natives, who, in self-defence, combined too late to repel the intruders. Then it was that the French, not from any philanthropic motive, took part with the Indians, and thus made North America the seat of war. The English government, as in duty bound, undertook the defence of the colonies, and, by arming the colonists, prepared |