CHIT-CHAT, LITERARY AND MISCELLANEOUS.

Miss Waldie, the authoress of Rome in the Nineteenth Century, is about to publish another work, in three volumes, entitled, Adventures on the Continent.

Monsieur J. F. Rousseau, the last member of the family of J. J. Rousseau, has just died at Genoa, at an advanced age.

The following is a list of the principal English Bibles, with the respective dates of their publication: 1526 and 1630, Tindal's Bible, the first printed; 1535, Coverdale's (Miles) Bible; 1537, Matthew's Bible; 1540, The Bishop's Bible; 1562, the Geneva Bible; 1568, Great English Bible; 1552, The New Testament; 1584, Rhemish Testament; 1610, King James's Bible.

The works of Mr. Mackenzie, the author of the Man of Feeling, 'have been translated into French, by Monsieur Bonnet, son of the advocate of that name.

There is, it appears, a regular manufactory at Smyrna, for forging ancient Eastern coins. A German newspaper gives a list of the counterfeits.

The Eaves-dropper Medwin has, after many months' consideration, resolved to pub lish a pamphlet in reply to Mr. J. Cam. Hobhouse's exposure of his fabrications. The contempt entertained on all hands for Captain Medwin cannot be dissipated by any new statement of facts published on his authority. Mr. Colburn gave this light dragoon £500. for his pretended Conversations, and has, probably, netted above £2000 by them. Captain M. and Mr. O'Meara should condole with each other, Par Nobile Fratrum.' A Life of old Major Cartwright, of Radical notoriety, is said to be in preparation. A book, from the pen of the author of the Journal of an Exile, to be entitled, Recollections of a Pedestrian, is, we are told, preparing for publication.

Mr. Bernard Barton has just published a volume of Devotional Verses, illustrative of Select Texts of Scripture, which, although we cannot afford space to review at length, we are extremely anxious to recommend to the notice of our readers. The Passages selected by Mr. Barton are often extremely happy, and some of the hymns deserve to rank with the most successful attempts of the kind ever published. Religious subjects require to be treated with a degree of simplicity which deprives the illustrator of the advantage of availing himself of those brilliant figures of which his imagination might, probably, under other circumstances, suggest the adoption. The work must be read and admired by all lovers of poetry, but more especially by the serious and reflective portion of the community. We regret that we are unable to support our opinion by one or two extracts, for several of the poems are, considered with reference merely to their literary merit, extremely beautiful.

A recent Scotch Paper, (the Edinburgh Observer) in a rhodomontading article upon Sir Walter Scott, entitles him THE CREATOR! That garrulous but amusing old lady, Miss Hawkins, states, in her Anecdotes,' that she has always been accustomed to consider The Great Unknown,' as applied to any one save God himself, sufficiently profane. We wonder what she will say to this new and unequivocal designation?

Mr. Charles Molloy Westmacott advertises a new monthly periodical, to be called The St. James's Royal Magazine.

The new volume of German Popular Stories just published, is a very admirable little book, and contains the best Sketches by Cruikshank we have as yet seen from his pencil. The Tales, which are short, are translated from the German. The Nose is one of the most excellent burlesque illustrations we have ever met with.

;

It is lamentable to see such an Association as the Royal Society of Literature fiddlefaddling over trumpery etymologies, and spending its time, and that of its learned members in illustrating passages in history and poetry, which require no illustration at all or at least, not a long and laborious essay, evidencing little more than the patience and industry of the writer. Mr. Granville Penn has, we see, been reading a long vindication of Cicero, from the ridicule cast upon him by the well-known verses of Quintilian and Juvenal. This is mere child's play, and if the Society can render no more important services to literature than these the sooner it shuts up shop the better.

Mr. Christie, we observe from the newspapers, has advertised the sale of the late Lord Radford's pictures, during the ensuing spring. Many of these are first-rate works; for, we believe, though his lordship sometimes sold as well as bought, his judgment was so good that he retained most of the best paintings which he had acquired during a long life, to the end of it.

A late number of the new series of the European Magazine contained some coarse but well-merited censures on the deputy-licenser of plays, George Colman the younger; who, although nearly all his own productions abound with the grossest indecencies, has thought proper to become quite a purist since his promotion to his new office, and who now cuts all new plays to pieces in a most unmerciful manner, for the purpose of weeding them of naughty sentiments and expressions. Of the above critique the succeeding number of the European Magazine remarks: It is hardly necessary to disabuse the public with regard to the monstrous libel which disgraced our pages last month, &c. for there is scarcely a man in the most remote corner of the island that could read what is there affirmed of the author of John Bull, the Heir at Law, &c. without a personal conviction of its utter stupidity and shameless falsehood! The editor then goes on to say, he never saw the article in manuscript, nor ever read it, until in the hands of the public.' It is difficult to know which to despise the most, the crawling sycophancy of the apology, or the weakness of the person who could be satisfied with such an excuse. When people gulp down such large and nauseous doses of their own assertions, it is not surprising that they should become foulmouthed.

The New Monthly Magazine, which compares every novelist who publishes with Mr. Colburn to the Great Unknown,' says, in its notice of Mr. Horace Smith's Brambletye House, that he has avowedly followed the course of the Scottish novelist, and will not steal, but emulate his excellencies.' We are glad of this, since now that the principal contributor to this magazine has begun to imitate the author of Waverley, we may expect to see no more of the invidious attempts to depreciate his writings, which have so often disgraced its pages. As compared with the Scotch novels (says the N. M. M.) Brambletye House is more continuous, and less thrown into masses!' It seems, however, to have been received by the critic as an indication of a 'genuine vein from which a series of works may be wrought,' to appear annually. In short, if we understand the drift of the critique, it is, that Mr. Horace Smith is to be Mr. Colburn's Great Unknown.'

It is asserted in the last number of Blackwood, that the well-known squib, The Devil's Walk,' which has been generally attributed to Porson, and which the learned professor used to claim as his own, was, in fact, the joint composition of Coleridge and Southey. We have the best authority for confirming this statement. It was, however, never intended to transpire in print. By the way this number of Maga is a very amusing one, but what in the name of conscience can induce Kit North to bore us with essays on the genius of the author of Waverley, at this time of day. There is plenty of character in the Man of War's Man, but a friend, who has served many years in a King's Ship, informs us, that the writer of these papers could never have sailed in a Man of War himself, or he would not have indulged in such idle and absurd misrepresentations. The last New Monthly Magazine contains some desultory extracts from the commonplace book of the late Mrs. Anne Radcliffe, on the supernatural in poetry. The arguments, if arguments they can be called, for they are very feeble and confused, are conveyed in the form of a conversation between Mr W. and Mr. S. It is a pity that the Editor will, for the sake of introducing the name of Mrs. Radcliffe in the Table of Contents of the New Monthly Magazine, injure her high reputation by the publication of such twaddle. Throughout an article of between seven or eight pages in length, there is scarcely an observation that has the least novelty to recommend it.

The Rev. B. W. Hamilton, of Leeds, in an ingenious Essay on Craniology,' which he has lately published, shews that Drs. Gall and Spurzheim are but the revivers of German theories, at least 300 years old. The genuine author of the system, it seems, was one Jean de Rhetan, who wrote a work on Craniology in the year 1500.

In the last North American Review brother Jonathan has presented his readers with an article on the poetry of Lord Byron and Timothy Pinkney, awarding the palm, of course, to the rhyming Yankee. One of the examples given of the beauties of Mr. Piccaninny's poetry, we shall lay before our readers. It contains, says the sage Reviewer, 'no less than three figures :'

The sportive Hopes that used to chase their shifting shadows on,
Like children playing in the sun are gone, for ever gone,
And on a careless sullen peace my double-fronted-mind,
Like Janus when his gates were shut, looks forward and behind.

We have heard of a double-soled shoe, but with a double-fronted-mind we really
had the good fortune to meet.

never

The Margravine of Anspach, so long known not only to fashionables, but the public in general, as the presiding genius of Brandenburgh House, tells us, in her Memoirs, that she is ' a strict lover of truth,' and follows up this statement with an assertion that she held modesty in high esteem.' "The woman that surrenders her chastity,' continues she, is universally despised.' This book is made up, for the most part, of stale apothegms, anecdotes which have repeatedly run the gauntlet of the periodical press (witness the story of Sheridan and his wine-merchant) and scraps of scandal, which as they have not the slightest shade of probability to recommend them, may, for ought we know to the contrary, be original. Her Serene Highness boasts almost as much of her style as her chastity; but such a tissue of vulgar slip-slop has seldom fallen under our observation. If her morals were no purer than her style, they must have been of a very unequivocal order. The following is one of innumerable samples of a similar character which might be extracted from her Memoirs. Having described the Marechal de Broglio as reduced to a proscription,' the titled Malaprop goes on to say :If my occupations and the clearness of my ideas produced delight to all who knew me, and became the cause of the comfort of both my husbands, and the primitive source of my common sense; I also considered that to these circumstances the method in which I was nursed contributed, in a great measure, to produce these original causes.

The impression which this book is calculated to create is, by no means, favourable to its pretensions of authenticity.

A Collection of French poetry is about to appear in volumes, under the title of 'Poets of the Nineteenth Century.'

Mr. Southey's vindication of his Book of Church, and Mr. Butler's vindication of his, are, we perceive, advertised for publication on the same day.

The Dwarf of Westerbourg, from the German, is nearly ready for publication.

We understand that Mr. John H. Brady, author of Varieties of Literature,' has made great progress in a work on The Derivation of the Names of the Principal Market Towns and Remarkable Villages in every County in England; with Notices of Local Antiquities, Historical and Topographical Anecdotes.'

Biblical Researches and Travels in Russia, including a Tour in the Crimea, and the Passage of the Caucasus; with Observations on the State of the Rabbinical Jews, the Mahomedans, and the Pagan Tribes, inhabiting the Southern Provinces of the Russian Empire, is announced by Dr. Henderson, author of A Residence in Ireland,' as being in the press.

Major Denham's African Travels are now expected to be among our early publications.

To Readers and Correspondents.

If the writer of the letter dated Tooley-street, who has assumed the initials of J. P. G., does not send an apology to the gentleman to whom the low stuff lately forwarded to the Editor of the Magnet would seem principally to refer, we shall take the liberty of addressing him a few words of wholesome advice in our next publication, which will, we rather apprehend, astonish him not a little ; and as he has made so unceremonious a use of the name of an individual whose principal offence is his having contributed to our pages, we shall not only mention that of his reviler, but explain briefly the motives by which he appears to have been actuated. Had the services of this illuminatus' been retained for the Magnet, all would, no doubt, have been right. It will mortify him, we dare say, to learn, that since the work has fallen into the hands of its present proprietor (within these last two months), its circulation has increased in the proportion of nearly one half. The assertion which this person has made, that Mr. A. A. Watts has allowed us to insert articles in the Literary Magnet, intended for the Literary Souvenir, without the consent of the authors, is a malignant falsehood. But we shall return to our disappointed scribbler in our next, unless he adopts the course we have suggested in the outset of this notice.

We are really surprised that Mr. Richards should send us pieces as original which he cannot but be conscious he has either himself printed before, or has transcribed from other publications. Some time ago he favoured us with a beautiful сору of verses, which we had seen repeatedly in print with the name of the Rev. W. B. Clarke attached to them; and several sketches in prose which we have recently met with in various periodical publications; all of which he endeavoured to palm off upon us as original communications. This species of imposition is really very

unpardonable, since (unless an Editor has waded carefully through every periodical publication for the last five or six years) it is next to impossible that he should always discover the trick which has been put upon him. Another person has been at the pains of transcribing and paying the postage of a little apologue, entitled 'Rabbi Meir,' from a work just published, which he has sent us as an original communication. We did not meet with the book from which it has been extracted until after the article was in the types, which will account for its not appearing in the letter in which our extracts are usually printed.

Our Friend at Brasenose' shall hear from us in a few days; as also shall T. G. Will C. D. M. mention in his next communication where a note will find him? His beautiful lines, entitled the Farewell of Summer,' have been mislaid, or they would have appeared in our January number. We shall publish them in our next. The proposition of Q. Q. Q. has really amused us. We should be sorry to inflict his Cypress Leaves' upon our readers, even though he were to pay us twice the sum at which he has the modesty to estimate them.

6

A Freshman's Fancies' in our next.

We are confidently assured by a friend, that we were wrong in attributing the poetry in the Literary Gazette, under the signature of Iole, to L. E. L. It certainly bears no comparison, in point of merit, to the more successful productions of the gifted authoress of the Improvisatrice, although it is a successful imitation of some of her slighter pieces.

We ought to have mentioned that the poem from the pen of Mr. Bowles, in our first number, was written to form part of a series of hymns for the children of a school in his neighbourhood. This explanation is necessary, in order to account for the obvious simplicity of the language and ideas. It is not often that we see men of genius adapting their productions to the comprehensions of the youthful and the poor, from the abstract love of doing good. Yet this is the man whom Mr. Roscoe, and the people afflicted with the Pope mania, would accuse of falsehood, malignity, and the Lord knows what else beside.

We have to apologize to our readers for having been guilty of a very palpable, but unintentional plagiarism. The tale inserted in our last number, entitled Retribution,' has, we find, already appeared, with some alterations, in a highly popu→ lar annual volume. The manuscript, communicated by the author, was in our possession long before its publication in the work in question; but the blame rests with us, and not with him, for having printed it after so great a delay, without first communicating to him our intention. The best proof that we had no intention of deceiving our readers, is to be found in the great popularity of the volume in which the story made its debut. The amiable correspondent who signs himself J. P. G., and to whom we have already paid our respects, informs us, that the Scottish tradition in our last number, entitled "The Death Wrestle,' has also been printed before. We therefore admit our readers to the full benefit of the discovery, although the authority for it is not quite so good as that of the gentleman who sent it us.

The Lines on visiting Westminster Abbey,' in our next.

We commence this month a series of poetical waifs and strays,' with the title of 'The Album.' The articles under this head will not profess to be always original; but where they are not, they will consist of such productions of modern poets as are little known to the public.

A few words on the admirable volumes, entitled 'Greece in 1825,' by Messieurs Emerson Humphries, and Count Pecchio, in our next.

The British Institution of the present season contains so little that has not been repeatedly exhibited elsewhere, and has already been so minutely criticised by the daily and weekly prints, that we have been induced to omit a long article furnished for our pages on this subject.

A correspondent asks why we give Leigh Hunt the preference over Joanna Baillie, in our announcement of our intended series of Essays on the Living Poets. To this we rejoin, we never meant the 'order' at which he cavils, to be an order of merit; but simply one of chance or convenience. We may probably pay our respects to the last poet of the list in our next. The less invidious plan would, perhaps, have been to have taken them alphabetically.

THE

LITERARY MAGNET.

APRIL, 1826.

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE EXCURSION AND THE LYRICAL BALLADS.*

BY MRS. HEMANS.

I.

THINE is a strain to read among the hills,
The old and full of voices; by the source
Of some free stream, whose gladdening presence fills
The solitude with sound; for in its course
Even such is thy deep song, that seems a part
Of those high scenes, a fountain from their heart.

II.

Or its pure spirit fitly may be taken

To the calm breast, in some sweet Garden's bowers,
Where summer winds each tree's low tones awaken,
And bud and bell with changes mark the hours;
There let thy thoughts be with me, while the day
Sinks with a golden and serene decay.

III.

Or by some hearth where happy faces meet,

When night hath hushed the woods with all their birds,
There, from some gentle voice, that lay were sweet
As antique music, linked with household words;
While in pleased murmurs Woman's lip might move,
And the raised eye of Childhood shine with Love.

IV.

Or where the shadows of dark solemn yews

Brood silently o'er some lone burial ground,
Thy verse hath power that brightly might diffuse
A breath, a kindling, as of Spring, around,
From its own glow of Hope, and courage high,

And steadfast Faith's victorious constancy.

We have great pleasure in presenting to our readers this exquisite address to the Poet Wordsworth, with which we have been kindly favoured by its distinguished author. Those who are acquainted with Mr. W.'s writings, will readily feel and appreciate the truth and beauty of the tribute. ED. Lit. Mag.