sense, every deviation from his doctrine incurs the anathema of perdition. Jerome, he says, far from being rightly canonised, must, but for some special grace, have been damned for his interpretation of St. Paul's epistle to the Romans.—pp. 513, 514.

The translation of the Old and New Testaments by Luther, Mr. Hallam declares, is more renowned for the purity of its German idiom, than for its adherence to the original text. It is alleged that his knowledge of the Greek and Hebrew languages was not extensive; and altogether this great Reformer's name, whether as regards original genius or rational purposes of conduct, will not gather new honours from our author's pages. But the manner in which the Reformation gradually affected literature is nevertheless nicely and carefully traced, although nothing short of the entire volume before us can indicate the delicate and clear manner in which this is accomplished.

Of Calvin, Mr. Hallam speaks highly, allowing him to have been possessed of genius and learning of no mean order; and he characterises his Institutions as being the most systematic and extensive defence and exposition of the Protestant doctrine, which at that time had appeared. But not to go more fully into the influence or character of the Reformers, we conclude, after introducing one passage, in which, going back to near the beginning of the fifteenth century, we find a curious resemblance detected between two great men, whose similarity of name adds strikingly to the comparison.

"The mind of Roger Bacon was strangely compounded of almost prophetic gleams of the future course of science, and the best principles of the inductive philosophy, with a more than usual credulity in the superstitions of his own time. Some have deemed him overrated by the nationality of the English. But if we may have sometimes given him credit for discoveries to which he has only borne testimony, there can be no doubt of the originality of his genius. I have in another place remarked the singular resemblance he bears to lord Bacon, not only in the character of his philosophy, but in several coincidences of expression. This has since been followed up by a later writer (with no knowledge, probably, of what I had written, since he does not allude to it), who plainly charges lord Bacon with having borrowed much, and with having concealed his obligations. The Opus Majus of Roger Bacon was not published till 1733, but the manuscripts were not uncommon, and Selden had thoughts of printing the work. The quotations from the Franciscan and the Chancellor, printed in parallel columns by Mr. Forster, are sometimes very curiously similar; but he presses the resemblance too far; and certainly the celebrated distinction, in the Novum Organum, of four classes of Idola which mislead the judgment, does not correspond in meaning, as he supposes, with the causes of error assigned by Roger Bacon."-pp. 155, 156.

ART. II.

1. The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club. Edited by Boz. London: Chapman and Hall.

2. Sketches by Boz. Second Series. Macrone.

3. Bentley's Miscellany. No. I. Edited by Boz. Illustrated by G. Cruikshank. Bentley.

WHEN the First Series of the "Sketches by Boz" appeared, we immediately discovered by means of them that the author had great knowledge of London and its suburbs; that he was a person of uncommon closeness and accuracy of observation, and that he could picture to the life the more vulgar or painful scenes that are daily to be witnessed in and around the modern Babylon. We also thought that, when striving to produce extraordinary effect, he indulged in a species of exaggeration not much unlike caricature. It now occurs to us, however, that this last suggested sort of colouring should rather be characterised as a feature belonging to a certain order of wit or humour, that has a distinguished seat in the genius or modes of association peculiar to the author, and that he really deserves to be ranked as an originalist, although we are far from according to this distinction a very high station, as respects the amusement or the lasting benefit of mankind.

The Papers of the Pickwick Club, which appear periodically, and which now extend to a considerable number of parts, have already obtained no ordinary share of the admiration of the Londoners. This is proof sufficient that they touch the follies, the weaknesses, and the cockneyisms, which no people can more heartily laugh at, than those who are constantly witnessing or committing them. We have of late encountered not a few respectable citizens, who, according to the force of the prevailing fashion, are sure, before you interchange many sentences with them, to inquire if you have read the last number of the Papers of the Pickwick Club. Some of these reputable men, and discriminating judges, will tell you, that Boz is a perfect Smollett; others that he is a Sterne; and others again that he can be a Fielding when he chooses. For our own part, we cannot give him so much credit as either of these suppositions should convey; or rather, we allow him a more enviable honour-that which attaches to all who never dreamt of being copyists, and who have a vein of their own; although, this originality, as before hinted, in the present case, specifically strikes at Cockneyland, and has only that sort of sly satire which can be understood in the more vulgar fields of that broad region of life and humour. Take as examples the following flattering specimens.

First we present a West Indian braggadocio. A game at cricket is the theme.

"The stranger, meanwhile, had been eating, drinking, and talking, without cessation. At every stroke he expressed his satisfaction and approval of the player in a most condescending and patronizing manner, which could not fail of being highly gratifying to the party concerned; while at every bad attempt at a catch, and every failure to stop the ball, he launched his personal displeasure at the head of the devoted individual in such denunciationsas, 'Ah, ah !-stupid'—' Now butterfingers'—' Muff '— Humbug' -and so forth-ejaculations which seemed to establish him in the opinion of all around, as a most excellent and undeniable judge of the whole art and mystery of the noble game of cricket.

Capital game-well played-some strokes admirable,' said the stranger, as both sides crowded into the tent, at the conclusion of the game.

"You have played it, Sir.' inquired Mr. Wardle, who had been much amused by his loquacity.

Played it! Think I have-thousands of times-not here-West Indies-exciting thing-hot work-very.'

It must be rather a warm pursuit in such a climate,' observed Mr. Pickwick.

"Warm!-red hot-scorching-glowing. Played a match oncesingle wicket-friend the Colonel-Sir Thomas Blazo-who should get the greatest number of runs. Won the toss-first innings-seven o'clock, ▲.M. -six natives to look out-went in; kept in-heat intense-natives all fainted-taken away-fresh half-dozen ordered-fainted also-Blazo bowling-supported by two natives-couldn't bowl me out-fainted toocleared away the Colonel-wouldn't give in-faithful attendant-Quanko Samba-last man left-sun so hot, bat in blisters, ball scorched brownfive hundred and seventy runs-rather exhausted-Quanko mustered up last remaining strength-bowled me out-had a bath, and went out to dinner.'

"And what became of what's-his name, Sir?' inquired an old gentleman.

".. Blazo ?'

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Poor Quanko-never recovered it-bowled on, on my account— bowled off, on his own-died, Sir,' Here the stranger buried his countenance in a brown jug, but whether to hide his emotion or imbibe its contents, we cannot distinctly affirm."

The most striking excellence in these Papers consists of certain tints in colouring, which, although they be seemingly unstudied and unobtrusive, convey a perfect index of character-a character, too, that aptly becomes the head of a generalized class.

To our bachelor friends, who are either not too old to despair, or are so hardened as to despise the bonds of wedlock, we next recommend these suggestions:

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"You have no idea how it's best to begin?' said Mr. Magnus. Why,' said Mr. Pickwick. I may have formed some ideas upon the subject, but, as I have never submitted them to the test of experience, I should be sorry if you were induced to regulate your proceedings by them.' "I should feel very much obliged to you, for any advice, Sir,' said Mr. Magnus, taking another look at the clock, the hand of which was verging on the five minutes past.

"Well, Sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, with the profound solemnity with which that great man could, when he pleased, render his remarks so deeply impressive I should commence, Sir, with a tribute to the lady's beauty and excellent qualities; from them, Sir, I should diverge to my own unworthiness.'

"Very good,' said Mr. Magnus.

"Unworthiness for her only, mind, Sir,' resumed Mr. Pickwick; for to show that I was not wholly unworthy, Sir, I should take a brief review of my past life, and present condition. I should argue, by analogy, that to anybody else I must be a very desirable object. I should then expatiate on the warmth of my love, and the depth of my devotion. Perhaps I might then be tempted to seize her hand.'

"Yes, I see,' said Mr. Magnus; that would be a very great point.' "I should then, Sir,' continued Mr. Pickwick, growing warmer as the subject presented itself in more glowing colours before him-'I should then, Sir, come to the plain and simple question, Will you have me?' I think I am justified in assuming, that upon this she would turn away her head.' "You think that may be taken for granted?' said Mr. Magnus; because if she did not do that at the right place, it would be embarrassing.'

"I think she would,' said Mr. Pickwick. Upon this, Sir, I should squeeze her hand, and I think-I think, Mr. Magnus-that after I had done that, supposing there was no refusal, I should gently draw away the handkerchief, which my slight knowledge of human nature leads me to suppose the lady would be applying to her eyes at the moment, and steal a respectful kiss. I think I should kiss her, Mr. Magnus; and at this particular point, I am decidedly of opinion, that if the lady were going to take me at all, she would murmur into my ears a bashful acceptance.'

A passage containing a little touch of sentiment, where the subject, but not its treatment, reminds us of Sterne, is the last of our extracts from the Papers of the Pickwick Club.

"Mr. Pickwick bowed low to the ladies; and notwithstanding the solicitations of the family, left the room with his friends.

"Get your hat, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick.

It's below stairs, Sir,' said Sam, and he ran down after it.

"Now there was nobody in the kitchen but the pretty housemaid; and as Sam's hat was mislaid, he had to look for it; and the pretty housemaid lighted him. They had to look all over the place for the hat; and the pretty housemaid, in her anxiety to find it, went down on her knees, and turned over all the things that were heaped together in a little corner by the door. It was an awkward corner. You couln't get at it without shutting the door first.

VOL. 1. (1837). No. II.

M

"Here it is,' said the pretty housemaid. "Let me look,' said Sam.

This is it, ain't it?'

"The pretty housemaid had stood the candle on the floor, and as it gave a very dim light, Sam was obliged to go down on his knees before he could see whether it really was his own hat or not. It was a remarkably small corner, and so-it was nobody's fault, but the man's who built the house -Sam and the pretty housemaid were necessarily very close together. "Yes, this is it,' said Sam. 'Good bye.'

"Good bye,' said the pretty housemaid.

"Good bye,' said Sam; and as he said it, he dropped the hat that had cost so much trouble looking for.

"How awkward you are,' said the pretty housemaid. 'You'll lose it again, if you don't take care.'

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So just to prevent his losing it again, she put it on for him.

"Whether it was that the pretty housemaid's face looked prettier still, when it was raised towards Sam's, or whether it was the accidental consequence of their being so near each other, is matter of uncertainty to this day, but Sam kissed her.

"You don't mean to say you did that on purpose,' said the pretty housemaid, blushing.

"No, I didn't then,' said Sam; but I will now.'

"So he kissed her again.

"Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, calling over the bannisters.

"Coming, Sir,' replied Sam, running up stairs.

"How long you have been,' said Mr. Pickwick.

"There was something behind the door, sir, which perwented our getting it open for ever so long,' replied Sam.

The illustrative Sketches by poor Seymour and others, which accompany the letter-press are fitly introduced, and give a higher zest to the humour of the work; a work, however, for which many, and we among the number, have really little taste, and, therefore, it is probable, that the slight notice now given may not have done it justice.

The Sketches," of which the "Second Series" is before us, we like better, because there is less of caricature in them, more of every-day occurrences, and yet more refinement in the representations, be they humourous, satirical, descriptive, or otherwise. Among the subjects of these "Sketches," which are at least equal to those that appeared in the former series, we find "The Streets by Morning," "The Streets by Night," "Meditations in Monmouth Street," "Misplaced Attachment of Mr. John Dounce," "The First Omnibus Cad," &c. &c. From the first of the subjects now mentioned, we give a truthful picture.

"The day now begins in good earnest. The servant of all-work, who, under the plea of sleeping very soundly, has utterly disregarded Missis's' ringing for half an hour previously, is warned by master, (whom Missis has sent up in his drapery to the landing-place for that purpose,) that it's half