Go sign the doom, stern girl, of steed or hound
That bore or followed thee, lest others should
Entreat thy favourites harshly-but at least,
In this thy madness, do not image forth
The thought of thee slain by a father's hand.
Melcha.--Yet she who fell was prized as Melcha is,
Her father's only child. Who shall deny
That was a blessed deed?

Cuth.

Away! away!

He was a pagan who could dare so much,
And cruel in his valour-I to strike

The blow myself?--What, with the hand that played
Amid thy golden tresses-on thy brow

Rested in daily blessing-the same hand

That thou hast oft imprisoned in thine own,

And laugh'd to mark the contrast? With this sword
Which thou hast girded by my side, or raised,

Breathless withal, a mimic Amazon !—

Melcha! I tell thee now, if such be deemed

A virtue, 1 have none; if such be called
Exalted courage, Coward is my name.

We cannot but consider that although in its present shape this piece could not be produced upon the boards, yet in the hands of an experienced playwright, Mr. Planché for instance, enough might be done in the way of curtailment and adaptation to ensure its success even as an acting play; as a dramatic poem, and in the closet, it cannot fail to please. The work is inscribed to Mr. James.

HYDE MARSTON.

THERE is a novelty, a reality, and a raciness about this book which will more than redeem it from the critical errors and defects that a fastidious eye may perchance detect in the details of its execution-we will not add in the construction of its plot-because we verily believe it to have no plot" at all, either in the critical or the common-place sense of that term; it is, if we do not greatly mistake (like poor Audrey's notion of poetry) "a true thing" it is, in the main features, we have no manner of doubt, a biography-we will not say an auto-biography, as we are speaking wholly without book, and from the impression made on us by the work itself. What is certain is, that a large proportion of the scenes of London and of country life—of "life" in the widest as well as the most wideawake sense of the phrase-are actual transcripts from the reality as it existed some twenty years ago; and it is equally certain that many of the characters are drawn from "originals" who have scarcely quitted the scenes of their celebrity, and are still freshly remembered there some of them indeed are allowed to figure under their own names; and those to whom an alias is assigned are so little disguised that those readers who had the good or ill luck (as the case might be) to be personally acquainted with them will be at no loss to assign their identity.

The name of "Craven" is so intimately and essentially connected with the sporting life of the last few years, that no sporting reader need be told what are the qualities of his style as a writer, and the second title of his work, "A Sportsman's Life," will sufficiently explain the leading

character of the book.

But, fortunately for the general reader, the phrase is used in a much less restricted sense than that which it usually bears; the novel is a sporting" one only in the sense in which almost every young man of fashion and family is at one period of his life a "sporting" character; there is nothing technical or professional about those of its scenes which appertain to "the Turf, the Field, and the Road;" and at least one-half of it-to our thinking, the better half— will be level to the tastes of the most miscellaneous of novel readers, and even to the most exacting of those who look in a novel for something more exciting, piquant, and improbable than they are wont to encounter in the ordinary intercourse of daily life.

Among the various species of "Life" which this lively and pleasant writer has undertaken to illustrate, the following are but a few: Life at Oxford-Club Life-Life at Doncaster-Life at Paris-Life at the seat of a Leicestershire Squire's-Life under the Cotswold Hills-Life in Dublin-Life on the Curragh-Life at Moulsey Hurst-in short, life under almost every phase and aspect of it but those sedentary ones which proceed upon the vegetative principle, and therefore do not proceed at all, but fairly stand still: a condition with which "Craven" has evidently no sympathy: he is the "Young Rapid" of the sporting world; and so indispensable to him is it to "keep moving," that when he backs objects to run after, he is fair to "course his own shadow." Nor is this latter species of sport the least amusing to which he invites us in those dashing and off-hand reminiscences of "A Sportman's Life."

Among the most amusing scenes in this very amusing novel, are those which illustrate the tavern life of twenty years ago, before the clubs had demolished their many-phased progenitors, and merged the infinite variety of their characteristic features in that insane and drab-coloured monotony which has thence communicated itself to the manners of their denizens. Time was--and it is the time treated of in this novel-when there were tavens proper and appropriate to every distinct species of temper and character-every separate grade of society-every capacity of purse-almost to every tone and hue of moral feeling. But though in name the most notable of these, the Bedford-Long's-Stevens'sthe Piazza-the Tavistock, &c., still linger among the things that are, it is in name only; their very places "know them not ;" they have long been marked for dissolution; and the best they can hope for is,

To live in Craven's volumes one year more.

Another very pleasant and permanently valuable feature of this novel is, the specific and authentic pictures it places before the "new generation" of the social life of the higher classes in England five-and-twenty

years ago,

When George the Third was king,

and as the style of this author has more of novelty about it than that of any other new writer of fiction we have recently encountered, we shall only be doing him common justice in both these respects by giving a taste of his quality:

FATHER AND SON TWENTY YEARS AGO.

How true has been the running in the race of improvement during the last wenty years! When I was a boy, the intercourse between a father and son

was such as the former might be supposed to have carried on with an angel. A gentleman commoner at Christchurch, whose "governor❞ allowed him 300%. a year, kept a stud, for which such a stipend would not pay the turnpikes a proceeding treated "at home" as if university bills were discharged by the special interposition of Providence. A more honest or honourablehearted man than he whom it was my fortune to call sire, never filled the office of justice of the peace, or a bumper to "church of state." He was a shrewd economist withal-canvassed every item of his steward's bills, and knew to a pint how much buttermilk was sold, and how much set aside for the pigs; yet he saw his only child spending more in a month than he had of unnual income, without betraying any anxiety on the subject.

That he was being done with impunity, he had not a pretext for appearing to believe; for one fine morning, as he was sauntering with me on the lawn, where I was waiting for my cover-hack to be brought round, a person approached, who, after whispering some cabalistic words in my ear, intimated to him that his son was arrested for ninety-six pounds. Without any observation, he took him into the house, and, after remaining there a few minutes, returned, accompanied by the stranger, who took his leave with a bow. He then joined me again, without allusion to what had occurred; and from that hour to the day of his death he never hinted at it. He might have supposed my resources came from my uncle, but he never made an attempt to assure himself of it. It was not the fashion of his time for the old squire to intermeddle with the young squire's expenses.

How unlike the wisdom of a certain modern father-a nobleman of whom it may be truly said, that his habits do honour to his station, his heart to his country and his kind! His rank is the highest to which an English subject can attain, and his fortune suited to his condition. He has a large family; the eldest, his son and heir, being attached to one of the regiments of Horse Guards. Rumours having reached him that the young soldier had fallen into the hands of the Israelites, he sent for him, and spake to the following in

tent:

"M-, I hear you are borrowing money at twenty per cent. I have your brothers' and sisters' fortunes to invest, which I should be glad to put out at a fourth of that interest; you can have the whole at five per cent., and be at no expense in showing the security you propose, as I am satisfied as to your title to the estates on which the loan would be charged."

I recommend this style of doing business to all whom it may concern: it is "short, sharp, and decisive"-the way in which man's warfare should ever be carried on, whether with the species or the specie.

CHELTENHAM AS IT WAS.

I am told Cheltenham is growing genteel; if so, it is losing fifty per cent. of its efficacy in the cases for which it was formerly administered. Many a patient, who might have swallowed the Montpelier Spa, without his liver being the wiser, has had every globule of bile pumped out of his body by the course of jokes daily exhibited in former times in the High-street. The cunning men who achieved these cures were a set of Irish habitués of the place, a few of whom were reputable, a great many disreputable, and all "devil-may

care."

These happy rogues, who went through the world as prescribed in a recipe which recommends "a light heart and a pair of thin pantaloons," might be seen in the vicinity of the "Plough," every afternoon, weather permitting, surrounded by groups in every phase of laughter. Evening found them similarly attended and occupied at the table of some unfortunate, born to a good estate and his own aversion, or one who had made a pilgrimage to the shrine of Plutus in the East, and returned with his bags filled with gold and his bladder with gall.

Is gentility the besetting absurdity of the day? A good modern comedy, we are told, is not to be expected, because all mankind are as like as eggs;

and a "character" is as little to be looked for as a miracle. I never knew but
two-one a waiter at a "free-and-easy" in the city, and the other Chief- Justice
of the
in Ireland. The waiter had a slight impediment in his speech
that was vastly in his favour. For example, the way in which he would ask,
What noble gentleman ordered the wa-a-bit?" (cockney for toasted cheese),
or The distinguished indewidual for the twype (tripe)?" was perfection. The
judge was as broad in his own way, as we shall presently see.

I found my uncle occupying a villa close to the Imperial, so situated that the whole population of the town worth seeing either walked drove, or rode past it in the course of the day. Although it was only a little month since we parted at Leicester, he was no longer the same man. More kind or hospitable he could not be; indeed, the front of his offending was (that he was too courteous. It was within a few minutes of his dinner-hour when I arrived ; and, in lieu of grumbling, as was his custom when there was even a prospect of that meal being kept back for a minute, he bade me not hurry my toilette, but the rather to give care and time to it, "as he was to have a small assembly in the evening."

At first I fancied he was bantering, but it was no joke; neither was the fashion of his personal appointment, for he was got up with a fastidiousness of costume quite superlative, and a reduction of redundancy altogether marvellous. In those days, the patent Adonisian girdle had not been discovered whereby the epigastrum is now taught to retreat upon the vertebræ, the stomach being then generally subjected to no greater restraint than the gentle limits of waistcoat or waistband. It was not my business to ask the old beau what he had done with his corporation; but I confess it puzzled me to imagine what he would do with his dinner.

As I went towards my room I passed the lower suite of apartments. In one of these was a table laid out witli uncle Tom's usual regard to the savoir faire ; while two others, which comprised the whole, were waving with roses and myrtles, like the groves of Paphos. Instead of my nose giving notice that I was the guest of a disciple of Mundungus, for any thing the surrounding odours announced, I might have arrived on a visit to the "sweet South," at its country-seat in a bed of violets. What the plague and pestilence could all this portend?

66

Give me my dressing things, you booby!" said I to Maher, who accompanied me as a valet, for the purpose of interrupting the attentions he was paying to the strong beer at the hall. "My slippers! where the devil's the hot

water? is there no housemaid to be found?"

"I'm going for it, myself, sir. Sure I couldn't ask the young lady-!”
"You eternal ass! what do you mean by the young lady?"

"The beautiful young creature that was in this room when I brought up your honour's luggage-in a silk gownd, silk stockings, satin shoes, a lace cap, and smelling like a nosegay. So she was by J—! I mane, that's the fact."

I never descended to a meal after a long journey with less appetite. The bell ceased ringing as I stalked down stairs, and my uncle and his guest were already seated when I entered the dinner room. The stranger was such as his entertainer ought to have been a little protuberant man, with a red face and a white poll-his eyes sharp and mischievous as a lynx's. He shot a furtive glance at me as I took my chair, and continued the conversation which he had been carrying on with great energy

The matter was
Cir-

"Four days ago, left Dublin and a sensation behind me. this: We had to hang a fellow at Naas. (Another morsel of calipee.) cumstantial evidence slight, but good. Sheriff-very scrupulous personlooked grave about it: good Protestant though, and therefore his doubts were to be cared for. Asked the accused if he had any thing to say why the law

should not take its course? Replied he was innocent. To reconcile all parties I thus proceeded to pass sentence. Prisoner at the bar, you have been found guilty, by a jury of your countrymen, of a crime which subjects you to the penalty of death. You say you are innocent of the charge; the truth of that assertion is known only to yourself and your Maker. It is my duty to leave you for execution. If guilty, you know that you richly deserve the fate which awaits you; if innocent, it will be a great gratification to feel that you are hanged without such a crime upon your conscience. In either case, you will be delivered from a world of care."

This is a fact. Who shall say my Lord Chief Justice was not a character in his way?

IRELAND.*

Ir the reader desires to obtain a large amount of information respecting Ireland and the Irish, through the medium of an unfailing fund of amusement, he will take up these pleasant and profitable "Meditations and Reflections" of Dr. James Johnson, and not lay them down again till he has gone through the book, which, if he does not find that he has accomplished at railroad speed, and almost without having had time to look about him, he may safely attribute to a defective taste for the humourous, and an unhealthy craving for something that is apart from the true purpose of book writing, which ought to be (whatever it is) to make people wiser and better by making them happier-not the reverse and round-about sequence, of insisting on the wisdom and the virtue coming first. If you want to civilise a savage people, you must begin by giving them plenty to eat and drink, and comfortable clothes to wear. In like manner, if writers desire to make the world acquainted with the miseries and monstrosities which prevail in what we, by a strange and insulting non sequitur, call "the sister kingdom," they must produce pleasant and readable books on the subject-not painful and revolting ones. Such, at all events, is the course pursued by Dr. James Johnson in this highly amusing and characteristic volume, and the consequence is, that it is calculated to do more good to Ireland, and through Ireland to England, than a score of commissions, and as many "monster meetings" to boot -not to mention the host of writing tourists who have preceded the doctor in his writing and publishing course on the same interesting topic.

And the book is as original as it is attractive-following no previous model, and setting up one that few will follow. It is, in fact, composed of a set of desultory jottings down of "Meditations and Reflections," each under the head of the immediate topic to which it is àpropos, and each therefore capable of being detached from its companion sketches, and regarded as a distinct and separate picture :-the whole, however, held together by an almost imperceptible thread of narrative, appertaining to the route pursued by the writer in his comprehensive "Tour."

Add to this, that Dr. Johnson's visit to Ireland was made at precisely

A Tour in Ireland, with Meditations and Reflections. By James Johnson, M.D. 1 vol.