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ing in parts, but like the generality of books, with shepherds and shepherdesses for heroes and heroines, it is tedious as a whole. This work contains six books, and was left unfinished.

The "Persiles y Sisigmunda," a story of the North, the latest production of Cervantes, and the one which of all he loved the best, is a most wild and improbable romance, exceeding even in fantastic extravagance the tales of chivalry he had satirised so successfully in the "Don Quixote." Nevertheless, it is a model of elegance and perfect purity of style, and rich in flashes of genius, amid all its eccentricities, and, therefore, deserving well a place among the Spanish classics.

It remains to contemplate Cervantes as a dramatist and a poet. His fame as such rests entirely, we think, upon his two plays, the "Numantia," and "El Trato de Argel;" for they both contain higher flights of poetry than the "Viaje al Parneso," or any other of his poetical attempts. He who has once read the "Journey to Parnassus," will not often revert to it again; but the dramas

contain some really fine passages. The "Numantia" celebrates the noble sentiment of patriotism. It is founded upon the story of the siege of that city, when the inhabitants rather than surrender to the Romans, perished amid the flames of their desolated homes.

"Life in Algiers" contains a vivid picture of the sufferings of the Christian captives in Moorish slavery, and was intended by the author as an excitement to the Spanish government to undertake active measures for the redemption of all such captives. We shall not attempt any analysis of these two dramas, that having been already so admirably done by M. Sismondi in his excellent work on the "Literature of the South of Europe."

And here we close our sketch of the life and writings of Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra; the brightest ornament that shines out amid Spanish literary records; a man of heroic soul, of fair and broad humanity, and of highest genius, of whom his country has, indeed, truest reason for pride and self-gratulation. M. J E.

DR. DAVID MACBETH MOIR.
(DELTA)

DR. DAVID MACBETH MOIR was born Latin, Greck and French languages, at Musselburgh, a sea-port town of Scot- besides making some progress in geoland, situated about six miles east of Edinburgh, on the 5th of January, 1798. His parents were respectable citizens. He was the second of four children, two of whom, Hugh Moir and Charles Moir, are still living. The father of this family died in 1817, the mother in 1842. The father of Dr. Moir was a man of high worth and established respectability; the mother was a woman of refined feeling and exalted intellect, who gave every encourage ment to the mental growth of her children, and afforded them every possible facility for the acquisition of a knowledge of literature.

Young Moir received the first rudiments of his education at a small school in Musselburgh, from which he was removed to the grammar-school, and placed under the training of Mr. Taylor. Here he acquired a knowledge of the

metry and algebra. His boyhood was of a healthy sort, marked by no very striking features, yet full of that bonhommie which the juvenile man invariably indulges in, when his elastic spirit is not broken by premature troubles. He was fond of innocent sports, and took a hearty share in the out-door games of boyhood. A warm, enthusiastic nature of a highly imaginative cast, always evinces itself in boyhood, in a love of green fields and athletic sports; and the remembrance, in after life, of these exciting scenes of pleasure, is a constant source of refreshment to the soul of a high-toned man. In his full manhood, Moir found it a peculiar pleasure to call to mind the "old lurking-places of hunt-the-hare ;" and the "old fantastic beech-tree," from the boughs of which he and his companions suspended their swings. The

green bank where they played at leapfrog, or gathered dandelions for their tame rabbits; and the worm-eaten, weather-worn deal seat where they assembled on autumn evenings to tell the round of stories, wonderful traditions, household memories, and recitals of chivalric enterprise, were all to be noted, years afterwards, when the heart was capable of a new thrill, and could revert to the past with a tenderness which called forth tears. It is just in this sympathy with the simple and the true -this gush of feeling under the touch of memory's magic-wand-that we recognise the poet by nature, who is none the less a poet, though he never writes a line, because his very constitution is poetic.

During the week he lodged in a small room in Shakspere-square. His days were spent in hard work at the theatre of the college, or in the various classes; his evenings at Carfrae's sale-rooms, where he staked his last shilling against all comers in a fierce bidding for a choice book. On Saturday night he exhibited his purchases to his friends, and indulged in a few harmless speculations as to how many volumes it requires to form a library, and how many years to purchase it at an expenditure of five shillings a week. Now and then he indulged himself with a visit to the theatre, to see the performances of Mrs. Siddons, Miss O'Neill, John Kemble, or Edmund Kean.

His apprenticeship concluded, he got At the age of thirteen, Moir was ap- his diploma as a surgeon in the spring prenticed to Dr. Stewart, a medical of 1816, when he was only eighteen practitioner in Musselburgh, a man of years of age. A long-cherished notion considerable talent, who took his pupil with him had been to enter the army; under the influence of a love for him, but the battle of Waterloo had so altered rather than as a trick of business. He the state of military affairs, that this entered upon life thus early, and com- purpose was abandoned. He accordmenced his duties with a cheerful zeal; |ingly returned home from Edinburgh, and, in a short time, so gained upon the and spent the summer in literary purconfidence of his master, as to be re-suits, contributing to the "Scot's Magagarded as a personal friend.

"Business first, literary recreation next, and poetry the prince of it; such was the key-note on which Moir pitched his life and kept it to the end." His first poetical attempt bears the date of 1812, when he was in his fifteenth year. Like most juvenile attempts, this was only "good considering" certainly not worthy of preservation. Soon after this, he contrived to get two short prose essays into the "Cheap Magazine," a small Haddington publication. The anxieties connected with this his "first appearance in print," recalls to the mind the anecdote told by Dickens, of his mysterious dropping of a sealed packet into a dark letter-box in Fleet-street, and then hovering near the office, on publishing day, to catch the tidings of its fate. Moir used to relate how, burnt up with eager impatience, he shot out into the streets of Musselburgh to await the coach which brought the magazine from Haddington, and then and there found himself a veritable published author. As his apprenticeship wore out, he began his attendance at Edinburgh College. Every Monday he walked up to his classes, and returned home on Saturday night, to spend the Sabbath in the family circle.

zine," and taking an active part in a debating-club, called the "Musselburgh Forum." Of this society he was secretary, and so respected was he for his zeal in serving the society, that the members, at the close of their session, voted him a silver medal, suitably inscribed. It is a suggestive fact, that the greater part of our men of letters have gained their earliest experiences in connection with debating-clubs. Towards the end of this same year, he ventured on the publication of a volume, entitled, "The. Bombardment of Algiers, and Other Poems," the edition of which was wholly consumed by his friends. Mr. Aird speaks of this as a "performance not without promise;" an expression to be accepted as the most gentle mode of describing a failure; and of all dull books this is a dull one indeed.

In 1817, young Moir-then only nineteen years of age-entered into partnership with Dr. Brown, of Musselburgh, who had an extensive and lucrative practice, in the town and suburbs. Moir's father was just dead, and his mother was left dependent on her son. The duties of this new position found him pre. pared to meet them, and filial love usurped the mastery of his large heart.

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Many a time," says his brother

Charles, "have I heard my mother, who was a woman of a strong mind, record with a tearful eye the struggles of that period, and the noble bearing of her son David, who carried her successfully through all her difficulties."

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open school; very prone to common sense, and quite conscious that he had a body. I am far from delicate," he says in a letter to Dr. Macnish, in 1828. I have not been confined fourteen days to bed, for the last twenty years-a pretty good sign that my constitution is not naturally a very tender one. So far from it. I am much more known in the town of Musselburgh, among the profanum vulgus, for my gymnastic proficiency than for any mental capabilities, and many could give evidence to my prowess in leaping, running, swimming, and skating; whoever dreamt that I penned a sonnet when I should engross?"

blingly delicate, and most strictly in harmony with the sensitiveness of his polished mind. His adolescence was marked by bashfulness, arising from nervous excitement, which it required many years' rough battling with the world to eradicate, and for which, indeed, there is no other remedy. It was under the influence of this strange feelingcertainly under a morbid influence of some kind or other, the consequence, doubtless, of over-excitement of the brain-that he wrote those early pieces of verse, in which the prevailing sentiment is melancholy, and regret for the past. These breathings of melodious sadness were, however, by no means peculiar to his youth, for all through, his poetry is tinged with the same expression, and in such a way as to prove that had he given himself up to meditations in the closet, he would have become a confirmed victim of hypochondriasis, instead of, as he was, one of the heartiest of men, and healthiest of writers.

But now he began to cultivate his literary talents with an assiduity which matched well with his steadfastness of aim and character. He read diligently in the brief intervals which his hard professional tasks afforded him; and with a wonderful facility of expression, he wrote off with great ease any idea which had occurred to him during the prosecution of his duties. He made the acquaintance of Mr. Thomas Pringle, author of the "Autumnal Excursions," Yet in spite of this vigour of frame and one of the editors of "Constable's he possessed a nervous system tremEdinburgh Magazine," to which journal Moir became a frequent contributor. This mixture of business and literature taxed his powers to the utmost, and for the small pinch of attic salt he had to pay some heavy penalties. "When the duties of the day were over," says his brother Charles, "and it was always nine or ten o'clock in the evening before he could count on that—after supper the candle was lighted in his bed-room, and the work of the desk began. Having shared the same room with him for many years in my early life, the routine of those nights is as fresh in my mind as if it had been but yesterday. With that loving-kindness of heart, and that tender care for others, which was the distinguishing feature of his character, he used to persuade me to retire to rest; and many a time have I awoke, when the night was far spent, and wondered to find him still at his books and pen." Under these circumstances did Moir pass his youth, and enter on the cares of manhood. No pale student was he, "wasting his soul in thin ballads," but a right hearty Scot, robust in constitution, and with a strong tendency to athletic sports and amusements. Most of our youths are sentimental from a deficiency of manly feeling, or, alas! a deficiency of brains; but your true man, who is to do something in his lifetime, and " leave the print of his heel on the earth," affects no paleness of the countenance, no paradoxical mysticism in conversation, and if he sighs or sheds a tear, it is not advertised like the prayer of the Pharisee, but endured in secret like the sincere emotions of the publican. Moir was just of this frank,

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The series of poems originally published, under the general appellative of Moods of the Mind," indicate by their general particular titles the peculiar sensibility from which they sprang; each poem being the representative of a

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Mood," and that mood usually of the gloomy sort. Of these "Despondency, a Reverie," "The Isle of Despair," "The Cypress Tree," "Midnight Wanderings," and "Reflections on a Ruined Abbey," are suggestive enough on their bare enumeration, and strikingly illustrate how a character of the most practical turn may grow out of a purely contemplative and melancholy nature,

under the stern schooling which contact with the world affords.

It is at this point that we get into the pith and marrow of Moir's life, which was one of hard work from this hour forward. From 1817 to 1828, he never slept a night out of Musselburgh, but from day to day, and from night to night, discharged the heavy duties of his medical practice, with a manful assiduity, and a Christian kindness, such as form the chief elements in our beau ideal of a medical man. Yet, between the laborious morning and evening visits, and the frequent jingling of the "night-bell"-that brass-tongued ogre of the doctor's pillow-he stole a few intervals of rest for the cultivation of his literary powers, and now he steps into the bold arena of "Blackwood's Magazine," a sufficient honour in itself for the most enthusiastic ambition.

of which is taken from the picture representing the temptations of St. Anthony, and adapted to the situation and clothed in the images supplied by Scottish Puritanism. This poem was published in 1819, when Delta was twentyone, and is a performance rich in promise. The poems just referred to,

Moods of the Mind," follow this, and, simultaneous with these, a series of Biblical sketches, comprising, "Elijah," "The Casting forth of Jordan," and "The Vision of Zechariah." Following these were some miscellaneous pieces, " Emma, a Tale," in sound blank verse

setting forth how a maiden, "all forlorn," dreams of her lover, who has gone to join the "holy wars in Palestine," and how, in her dream, she has a vision of the battle-field, where nightbroods, and bird, and beast

Have come to gorge

On the unburied dead. Rider and horse,
The lofty and the low, commingled lie,
Unbreathing; and the balmy evening gale
Fitfully lifts the feathers on the crest

A manuscript magazine, projected by Moir, and mainly kept up by himself, had brought him a little fame in Musselburgh, and, what is more, had afOf one who slumbers with his visor up. forded him a field for practice, and em- The "one" is her absent lover, whose boldened by the success of his contribu- return she pines for; and when "raditions to this very local serial, he sent ant morn appears," and upon the "ivy in some pieces to Maga, then plethoric wreath" the "robin sings," with sound with young blood, and pulsing with of trumpet, drum, and tramp of men life and jollity. Mr. Blackwood was a and steed, that "one,' Young Ethelman of rare sagacity, and he appre-rid," returns, and like a faithful knight ciated and encouraged the new con- of those old steel-clad times

tributor.

The pieces contributed were often of the most opposite kind, drab colour to-day, harlequin's spangles to-morrow, and anon, the painted drollery of the red-lipped clown, shaking you from head to foot with laughter at his drollery. "The Eve of St. Jerry," "The Ancient Waggoner," and others of the same rollicking cast, were let off in company with sweet, tender strains, filled with plaintive melody, like touches of flute music, or the cooing of ringdoves. It is strange, though true, that although these various contributions were sent anonymously-the touches of humour being attributed by the public to Maginn-yet Mr. Blackwood scented out their identity, and saw in the queer song and the " plaintive pleading of regret," the diverse efforts of the same

hand.

The first of his pieces to which the renowned ▲ was attached, and to which he owed his popular cognomen of Delta, was "The Covenanter's Heather Bed," a poem of considerable merit, the idea

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Kneels at her feet in ecstacy, And lifts her snowy fingers to his lips. "The Vision," Reflections on Brumal Scene,' "The Silent Eve," "To Margaret,' Afar, Oh Ladye Fair, away!" "Elegy composed on the Field of Pinkie," "Stanzas on the Re-Interment of King Robert Bruce," 66 The Snowy Eve," "The Wild Rose," together with "Sonnets on the Chief Localities of Interest in Scotland," "Sir Harold," and Hymn to the Night Wind," are the chief of these early pieces.

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We are thus particular in enumerating the early productions of Delta, in order that the reader, curious in such matters, may note how the development of genius needs time as a primary element; and not time only, but hard work, under the impulse of a set purpose, and with experience to cool the crude ardour of youthful enthusiasm. In the case of Delta the growth of a mind is most beautifully marked in the steady improvement of a power which lurks under these early effusions, showing that they

spring from a rich and virgin soil, yet need the pruning of experience and art to reduce them to symmetrical proportions.

They became united as brothers, and so great was the confidence reposed in Moir by Galt, that when hurried off to America before he could get his novel, the "Last of the Lairds," finished, he left his friend to write the concluding chapters, involving, of course, the winding up-that all-important part of a novel-and this task was completed in a manner so ingenious as to furnish the friends, when they met again, with a source of mirth almost inexhaustible.

But these early pieces, however imperfect in themselves, compared with the latest productions of his pen, were in the right vein, and soon became exceedingly popular. Hence A, the shadow, of which Moir was the substance, was soon looked for in the monthly issue of the Tory thunderer, and with young people especially, the contributions soon became especial favourites. While popularity was growing out of doors, Delta was slowly, but surely, gaining admission to the select literary circles of Edinburgh, and, through Mr. Blackwood, became personally acquainted with several of the leading writers of the magazine, and, among others, Professor Wilson. What Wilson thought of the young poet, on his first acquaintance with him, we are not told, but the way in which the largehearted wizard gains a mastery over hundreds of fine youths, is thus hit off by Mr. Aird. An essay is submitted to him as professor, editor or friend, by some worthy young man. Mr. Wilson does not like it, and says so in general terms. The youth is not satisfied, and, in the tone of one rather injured, begs to know specific faults. The generous Aristarch, never dealing haughtily with a young worth, instantly sits down, and begins by conveying, in the most fearless terms of praise, his sense of that worth; but, this done, woe be to the luckless piece of prose, or numerous verse. Down goes the scalpel with the most minute savagery of dissection, At the close of 1824, Delta published and the whole tissues and ramifications a selection of his contributions to the of fault are laid naked and bare. The magazines, together with a few new young man is astonished; but his pieces, in a volume, entitled, ‘A Legend nature is of the right sort; he never of Genevieve, with other Tales and forgets the lesson; and with bands of Poems." It was a misfortune or misfilial affection stronger than hooks of take at starting to give “The Legend of steel, he is knit for life to the man who Genevieve" so much predominance in has dealt with him thus. The severe the title, for it is by no means one of service was once done to Delta; he was his best productions, and much inferior the young man to profit by it, and his to many other pieces in the book. "The acquaintanceship with the professor Hymn to the Morn" and "Hymn to gradually ripened into a friendship, the Night Wind," are, perhaps, the finest not to be dissolved but at the grave's in the book-gems in their way, both mouth." for lyrical sweetness and felicity of Soon afterwards a friendship of a sin-thought. The book did not sell, such cere and lasting sort sprang up between Delta and Mr. Galt, the novelist, who came to live at Eskgrove, in the immediate neighbourhood of Musselburgh.

It is often said the more a man does, the more he is able to do; and it is truly surprising what an amount of energy Delta displayed in literature at this time, when we consider that at the same time the harassing tasks of his professional life were never once neglected, but pursued with an increasing and increasing ardour. His medical practice extended, his friends increased in number, and the demands on his talent became more and more frequent. From the night journey in the hail or snow, or the long watch beside the bed of some poor recipient of his medical skill and tender heartedness, he would retire to his study and pen delicate ballads, familiar epistles, essays, sonnets, and seraphic hymns. Into Blackwood he poured all sorts of contributions, from grave verse down to mock-heroics, imitations, cockney love songs, puns, parodies, freaks, fantasies, and all other sorts of queer, quizzical and funny things; yet with no vulgarity, no wilful distortion of kindly feelings, but, ever true to nature and humanity, and with a clever sparkle which had no gall in it.

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books never do: in ninety-nine cases out of every hundred they are either sent after dark to some friendly cheesemonger who is so burnt up with a passion for

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