THREE DAYS AT CLOVENFORD. EVENING THE STRANGER-DEPARTURE. THE sacred rage of hunger being appeased, we three friends sat, on the evening of the second day, round a table on which were placed sundry jugs of smoking toddy, a box of cigars, and the dispatches which had that morning been received from Edinburgh. We are no enemies to a long walk on a rainy day, by the side of a wood of dark pines, through whose branches the wind is making wild music, or over a bleak hill, exposed to the whole pelting of the storm. The sense of our power to overcome and laugh at the petty hinderances of mere physical obstacles, exhilerates our spirits,-every successful pressure on wards against a fierce gust of wind, bearing a whole deluge of water upon its breast, is a triumph-while the blast itself sounds the trumpet note of our conquest. It is rarely that we essay to lift our voice in song, but in such a situation we can find no other vent to our transports. Nevertheless, we admit, that after a day's work of this kindafter a well-won field-we enjoy the dreamy diffusion of limb, the glancing fire, the vestments warm and dry, and the accessories to good fellowship which crown the after dinner board, with equal intensity. Fully possessed with this feeling of tranquil delight, we sat conversing with our friends, and, in the happy pauses of discourse, listening "to hear the wind whistle without." Our talk was of many and diversified subjects -of friends far over the sea, and their probable fates— of the studies of our youth and maturer manhood-of the character and conduct which are essential to success in life of loves and quarrels, misunderstandings and reconciliations. The prospects of our native land, at this great crisis of her fate, were not forgotten. While Alfred, with all the buoyant and enthusiastic hope of youth, looked forward to a more glorious developement of the national energies, under a more free system of government, the Lounger, older in the ways of the world, and better acquainted with the weakness of man, shook his head, and, though a firm believer in the ultimate triumph of good, acknowledged some misgivings as to the immediate and tranquil settlement of affairs. “I admit," he said, "that the alteration contemplated in the election of our legislative assembly is most just and called for. I admit that it leaves the great fabric of our social and civil constitution intact. I admit that empires, no more than men, can stand still, but must journey onward with time. And yet I have my fears-the event of all change is as uncertain as the change itself is inevitable. I am supported, it is true, by the cheering belief that all things ultimately work together for good, and my doubts are probably in a great measure owing to the hankering of old age after quiet, but I feel and must utter them. I would not damp your trusting spirit, my young friend, that best portion of youth; but believe me your age will be a bustling, and possibly a turbulent one. Forewarned, forearmed; an old man's warning can do you no harm, even though Providence should grant that there be no occasion for it." Price 6d. The conversation was assuming a more serious tone than we felt at that moment inclined to indulge in. We therefore requested Alfred to open the letters which were upon the table, hoping one or other of them might suggest some new topic. Like the Portuguese Jew whom Cervantes employed to translate the narrative of the illustrious Cid Hamet Benengeli, no sooner did he cast his eye upon the first manuscript he unsealed, than he began to laugh. "Do you remember your learned dissertation yesterday anent your causes of dislike to certain amatory effusions? Here is a song of true love after your own heart. Listen to A SERENADE. "Love, if you're sleeping, awaken! And hear how your true-hearted swain "Oh! when did the wretched appeal to Or when was her tender heart steel to The sorrows of those who complain? And no doubt she had his best blessing, For her kindness was certainly great." "There is," said we, "something extremely inspiring in the sight of so many unopened contributions. We are aware, that, like the billets in a lottery, by far the greater proportion of them are blanks, but we have not a moment's doubt that some of them are prizes. You have got one at the first draw. Try again. What have you ?" "A jocular effusion from the most gentle and pensive of your friends-a soldier amiable as he is brave-with a heart fearless as his sword, and soft as his feather. Would you believe it-from Malcolm ?" 66 "Pooh!" interrupted the Lounger, you know little of Malcolm if this astonishes you. Quiet as he sits, there is a smile of sly observant humour plays lambently in the corner of his eye. Let us have it." And Alfred read aloud, with good emphasis and discretion, IMPOSITIONS. The world is composed of deceivers, Impostors, and simple believers,— Half knaves and the other half fools. Doctor Solomon's sweet panacea (A bottle of balm) may be got, Including advice, if you'll pay a "Small compliment," call'd a pound note. When health's to be sold in a phial, We cannot well choose but to buy; But, in spite of our faith, upon trial "Tis found to be all in my eye. His practice, a London leech plying, Cures ailments by rubbing the back; But his patients, when fairly a-dying, Begin to suspect he's a quack. When you find your apparel is wearing, At the warehouse in Prince's Street, bearing But should you (believing their praisers) But of all impositions a-going, The greatest and worst to escape Is the one that prevents us from knowing A woman's own natural shape. Young ladies oft wed for a carriage, Entangled in love's silken meshes, With the maid that hath caught him, made oneHe fancies she flesh of his flesh is He finds she's but bone of his bone. Pensive poets of shapes love the slender-- Lean ladies, they are my provokers, So lank and so stiff, you would say That their drink was decoction of pokers, Instead of good London bohea. But I think we are most of us doaters On the girl, whether little or big, Who sports upon small pretty trotters A figure as plump as a pig. It was now resolved that we should each in succession try our luck in this novel lottery. However, as we had commenced the investigation with a view to fly from thought, every serious production was veted irrelevant, and postponed till a future occasion. But the spring time is not a season of merriment, though it is of happiness. The reviving warmth seemed to have melted our correspondents, to a man, into a jelly of sentiment. Every tender swain of them, you would have sworn, had penned kis lorn ditty stretched at his lubber's length on the sunny side of a half-green hedge, thinking of his lady, and laying in a stock of rheumatism for the next winter. At last our search was rewarded with A SPRING DITTY. Farewell to the blaze of wax candles-Adieu to the lustre of gas! And then, your half dances-half stand-stillsThey're but as a mem'ry that was! Good-by to your glasses of jelly To sandwiches thin as my frill— An acre would not fill one's belly! Adieu to the waltz and quadrille ! The look of an orchestra's frightful- The sun now gets up in the morning At the hour I was wont to lie downAnd its roseate tints are adorning Even the smoke-wrinkled face of the town! The breeze is abroad like a rover, And gently kissing the flowers,— The winter-the winter is over, The spring and the summer are ours! O! for plumes of the ostrich, wave o'er me, Ye green leaves and blossoms of June! Paganini himself would but bore me, When the laverock's voice is in tune! I'm off to the glen and the mountain, Our comments upon these verses were interrupted by the entrance of Ellen, who was sent by her mistress to inform us, that three gentlemen had just arrived, that she had no empty room in the house, and that it would be an act of charity on our part to accommodate them. This, under existing circumstances, reasonable request being complied with, the strangers were ushered in. The party consisted of a gentleman and two younkers, evidently his relations; but in what grade it might not be so easy to determine. He was rather above the middle size, with broad flat shoulders, and expressing an easy consciousness of strength in his frank, bold bearing. His complexion was ruddy, long light-coloured locks, a little thinner than they had once been at the summit of the head, hung down on either side of a brow, which, whatever it might have been to a phrenologist, commanded at once the homage of the poet and the artist. His eye had a wild glistening, like that of the "fair ladie” in Christabelle-it looked through and through you, and yet every minute a shade of the tenderest expression would steal across it. A good-humoured smile played upon his lips. He bowed courteously, apologizing for his intrusion. We answered in some words-of-course-something about the obligation upon sportsmen to be mutually accommodating, inwardly congratulating ourselves upon the chance that brought us acquainted with a person of his figure. He advanced to the fire, and commenced the operation of drying some part of his habiliments, which had suffered from the inclemency of the evening. We remarked that his first step was to take two newspapers (we afterwards discovered they were Standards) from his coat-pocket, which he did with a marked air of deference, and spread them upon the back of a chair before the fire. He next desired Ellen to fetch him a large dish, into which he might transfer the contents of his creel. His orders being obeyed, he lifted out of that spacious receptacle one goodly trout after another, till we began to imagine that it was, like the fairy purse of Fortunatus, inexhaustible. All this while he continued to comment upon each fish to his young companions in a voice of fatherly kindness, sometimes extending a remark to us. When the whole of his enormous day's fishing was displayed, he contemplated it | Williams. There is, for example, he who wrote the Life with the mild triumph of a gentleman and an angler. Having dried himself, and satisfied the cravings of appetite, he, first asking permission to use such a liberty, extended himself in a reclining posture upon a sofa which stood in the room, and began to converse. He followed the train of conversation wherever it led, showing himself equally versed in the mysteries of fly-fishing and metaphysics. By a tacit consent of all parties, politics were studiously eschewed. What first struck us was the intense power of his descriptions-the scenes rose embodied before us, as fixing us with his bright eye he evoked them, we knew not, spell-bound as we were, whether by the rich colours of his language, or by some magic in his glance. We were next startled by the broad rich humour of his grotesque impersonations. If any ludicrous idea were suggested, by himself, or another of the party, his delight was to pursue it to the very verge of absurdity, and even there to give it a palpable form, and that character of truth and reality, which genius bestows on its wildest imaginings. He treated us, in the course of the evening, to a thousand pictures, wild as Teniers' temptations of St Anthony, but luxuriant and glowing as the hues and forms of Italy. And ever and anon our high-wrought spirits were allowed to repose, by his introducing remarks upon life and character, in a tone of mild philosophic reflection. Whenever he addressed his young comrades, or alluded to his relations, there was an affectionate tremour in his voice. We regarded him with wonder and admiration. His was a spirit which must in youth have been terrible in its beauty, but years had rendered it milder, without impairing its strength. He was like a gorgeous picture, with its tints tempered by the lapse of time; like a noble and fiery wine, made mellower and richer by age; like-himself, his only parallel. of Fuseli-what is his name? But we can with still me Sir Thomas Lawrence is an artist, in the vindication and maintenance of whose fair fame the country is deeply interested. He is one of our three British portraitpainters, who, for originality and solid value, are entitled to rank among the Vandykes. First is Reynolds with his glowing and harmonious colour, his character, and his bold, manly style of handling. Next comes Raeburn with his breadth and solidity of effect, his likenesses of the mind as well as the body. Last, Sir Thomas, noways inferior to either, with his real presences, his eyes, into which you look down till you see the soul. We do not deny that there are, and have been among us, other portrait-painters of high merit, but not one of them has attained to such a mastery in their department as this splendid triumvirate. Lawrence was the son of an innkeeper-of a man who had been born to better prospects, somewhat addicted to literature, and a considerable prig. The boy was remarkable for his beauty, early showed a knack of taking likenesses, and, under his father's sedulous tuition, displayed a talent for declamation which he retained through life. Rather a ludicrous account is given by an eyewitness of one of his earliest attempts at portraitpainting: "Lawrence frequently brought his boy to the greenroom, and we would set him on a table and make him recite Hamlet's directions to the players. On one of Despite our fatigues, and the prospect of next day's rethese occasions, Henderson was present, and expressed newal of them, we listened to his eloquence till far in the much gratification. The little fellow, in return for our morning. At last he rose, and, calling his boys to his civilities and flatteries, was desirous to take our likenesses, side, with a playful affectation of decrepitude leaned the first time we came to Devizes, and Edwin and myheavily upon them, and was thus borne out of the room. self afforded him an opportunity soon after, on one of Who can he be? was our first question. Alfred, pick- our non-playday's excursions. After dinner, Lawrence ing up a handkerchief he had dropped, proceeded to ex-proposed giving us a reading as usual, but Tom reminded amine the corners-we were too much excited to attend to punctilioes on one of which he discovered the initials Blockheads that we were, not to have recognised C. N. him sooner. The sun rose next morning bright and cloudless. We were stirring with him, and after one of Clovenford's amplest breakfasts, proceeded to take leave of our kind and attentive hostess. But before departing, we had to go through a ceremony belonging to the simple and kindly manners of the olden time. In came the landlady with no small degree of bustle, smiling through her tears, carrying a tray covered with bottles, glasses, and shortbread" Naebody ever left this house without takin' a dram frae my bottle, and sic discreet gentlemen shanna be the first." So we performed the libation with all due solemnity, and exeunt omnes. LITERARY CRITICISM. him of our promise. We preferred a specimen of his talents, as being most novel. The young artist collected his materials very quickly, and essayed my visage the first. In about ten minutes, he produced a faithful delineation in crayon, which for many years I kept as a curiosity. He next attempted Edwin's, who, startled at the boy's ability, resolved (in his usual way) to perplex him. "No man had a more flexible countenance than Edwin. It was not only well featured, but well muscled, if I may be allowed the expression, which enabled him to throw over its surface, as on a moral prism, all the colours of expression, minutely blending or powerfully contrasting. He accordingly commenced his sitting, by settling his face into a sober and rather serious aspect, and when the young artist had taken its outline and come to the eyes, he began gradually, but imperceptibly, to extend and change it, raising his brows, compressing his lips, and widening his mouth, till his face wore the expression of brightness and gaiety. Tom no sooner perceived the change, than he started in supreme wonder, attributing it to a defect in his own vision. The first The Life and Correspondence of Sir Thomas Lawrence, Kt., President of the Royal Academy. By D. E. Wil liams, Esq. In two vols. outline was accordingly abandoned, and a second com8vo. Pp. 473, 586. menced. Tom was now more particular, and watched London. Colburn and Bentley. 1831. him narrowly, but Edwin, feature by feature, and muscle THERE is an immense deal of coquetting and compli- by muscle, so completely ran, what might have been menting at the outset of this book, between Mr Camp- called the gamut of his countenance-as the various combell and Mr Williams, who were to have been joint-get-ponents of its harmony-that the boy drew and rubbed ters-up of the Life of Sir Thomas Lawrence between Mr Campbell, who was to have fathered the work, and Mr Williams who has. We do not see what possible interest the public can have in their private arrangements. We can easily imagine a worse biographer than Mr out, till his hand fell by his side, and he stood silently looking in Edwin's face, to discover, if possible, its true expression. Edwin could not long maintain his composure at his scrutiny, and revealed the hoax with a burst of merriment and mimic thunder." midst of these vexations, which I think I reveal to you for the first time, I have the cares of overwhelming business, a thousand dissatisfactions arising from it, and the difficult settlement of those past encumbrances that once so nearly ruined me." Sir Thomas's conduct was in strict keeping with the sentiments he has here expressed. Throughout the whole of his life, however, we can trace a strain of that tempered effeminacy which we recognise in his paintings. From a want of that masculine decision which enables a man to regulate his worldly affairs, he was, He soon attracted the notice of the neighbouring gentry, and got into good practice as a taker of likenesses. While yet young he went to London, was introduced to Sir Joshua, and distinguished himself in the Academy. He attracted the attention of royalty, and was admitted an associate of the Royal Academy before he attained the lawful age. Once fairly afloat in London, his popularity increased with every year. No painter was ever more beautiful and true to nature,-no one ever produced such effects with the most subdued and unostentatious tints. There is a grace and elegance in every thing he did. Perhaps this is carried even to a degree of effeminacy-notwithstanding his immense professional gains, continever marked enough, however, to become offensive. It has been said that he had talents for becoming a great historical painter. Of this we are doubtful, notwithstanding that we have the fear of his Satan and his John Kemble before our eyes. He had an imagination which sailed swanlike upon the tide of human life, adding a new grace to it, but wanted strength of wing to soar into the imaginative world. He cultivated his powers to the uttermost, and had become all that he was capable of becoming. The following extract from one of his letters, while it shows his character in a most amiable light, serves to corroborate this opinion: 46 Triumphs of conquerors, and even the deeds of heroism that secure them, have a colder spectator in me, as man and artist, than can often be found. I would rather paint Satan, bursting into tears, when collecting his ruined angels, than Achilles, radiant in his heavenly arms, mounting his chariot, defying his destiny when announced by miracle, and rushing on devoted Troy! And fallen Rome, with its declining sun, as it was once sweetly, pathetically painted by Claude, would be more delightful in anticipation, than seen in its full carnival, with its rich tapestries hung round St Peter's, its illuminated dome, and the magnificent fireworks from the castle of St Angelo, with all the gorgeous accompaniments of processions, fêtes, &c. &c. nually embarrassed. Though always kind and ready to befriend, there was a want of depth and permanency in his attachments. Our readers will understand us when they read what follows: 66 "A lady, writing of Sir Thomas Lawrence's liaisons, says, I think every person of right feeling, every creature that will take the trouble to examine his own catalogue of failings, will be ready to pity or excuse the only shade on a character so beautiful and so much to be loved. I should be tempted to use the language of Laertes, “A ministering angel shall be be," &c., but it cannot be too strongly stated, that his manners were likely to mislead, without his intending it. He could not write a common answer to a dinner invitation, without its assuming the tone of a billet doux: the very commonest conversation was held in that soft, low whisper, and with that tone of deference and interest, which are so unusual, and so calculated to please. I am myself persuaded, that he never intentionally gave pain. He was not a male coquette; he had no plan of conquest. All I know of his attachment, was the ill-fated and never-to-be-defended affair.' "Ill-fated and indefensible indeed was this affair. Sir Thomas had carried his attentions to an exemplary young lady so far, that it required, on her part, the utmost magnanimity, and highest exertion of fortitude and gene"My case is very different to yours, and many inquiet-rosity, to subdue her feelings, when he declared himself udes break in upon me. I think more seriously of life the warm and open admirer of her sister. The painful than I ever did; and reflect, that I have lived half my sacrifice was made magnanimously by the sister, and the days, and done not half of what my morning promised. courtship of the other proceeded to the time expected for It is true, that for these last six years, I have been rising the settlement of the day of marriage. The parent of in professional estimation; but I find too, that enemies the lady had agreed to relieve Mr Lawrence of all his rise with it, and some way or other reach me. My faults pecuniary embarrassments, when his wayward fancy too are very obvious, and known to but too many-the good palpably reverted to his first attachment. He was of of my character to very few. Amongst the best part of necessity forbidden further intercourse with the family, it, I should say, that liberality towards my competitors, or at least with that branch of it. The pure, the exceland the opinions and feelings of a gentleman, may be in- lent, and beautiful girl, sunk into the grave, with woundcluded; with a disdain of selfish policy, and mere trick-ed pride and broken spirits, the unsullied and deplored ery of conduct: yet I have recently had the most striking proof, that this and more are imputed to me;-that I am endeavouring to create an unwarrantable influence in the Academy; that I am forming my squad;' that every thing is to be sacrificed to me; and that, whatever injustice is shown to others, I am secretly the cause and mover. "The most respectable character in the society, one who has been a benefactor to many, is now the object of their attack, from his supposed partiality to me; and I, who have never in act, or even speech, been illiberal towards a brother artist, am now the object of suspicion and distrust. The difficulty of keeping in the same quiet path I have hitherto walked in, becomes daily more distressing. With a word, I think I could refute these calumnies that are spread against me, and bring these restless enemies to shame. Then, I doubt if it is wise to do so; and, instead of being their envy, become their hatred a feeling in my mind dreadful to excite. little have I yet committed myself, that these men are compelled to smile upon me when we meet; and to forego this quiet triumph, more enjoyment must be offered than their detection offers. Yet, to be untainted in my character with my rivals-I mean, in whatever regards my conduct to them-is one great object with me. In the So victim of his caprice. She was allied to a family more celebrated than any extant for talents of a peculiar description, and was the daughter of a lady whose genius in her high profession was probably never equalled, and who, with that genius, combined a beauty and a physical perfection, that created a union which hope can never expect again to see realized." Sir Thomas mingled much with the gay and fashionable world, and his memoirs are invaluable as casting a reflex light on the manners of the day, and the private character of our most prominent statesmen, literati, and warriors. We pass over his acquaintance with Queen Caroline-a source of melancholy reminiscences, of wrongs, misunderstandings, and national discord, to dwell upon the not less sad, but less painful, scenes at Clermont, when the mother and her babe- the hopes of Britain-were reft from us at once. Sir Thomas gives a pleasing picture of the Princess Charlotte: "Popular love, and the enthusiasm of sorrow, never towards greatness perhaps so real, saw in her a promised Elizabeth, and while yet she lived it was a character which I should sincerely have assigned to her, as that which she would most nearly have approached: certain I am that she would have been a true monarch, have loved her people, charity and justice, high integrity, (as I ring a short pause I spoke of the impression it had made have stated,) frankness and humanity, were essentials and fixed in her character: her mind seemed to have nothing of subtlety or littleness in it, and she had all the courage of her station. on me. Yes, she had a clear, fine understanding, and very quick-she was candid, she was open, and not suspecting, but she saw characters at the glance-she read them so true. You saw her; you saw something of us what happiness—and it was solid-it could not change, for we knew each other-except when I went out to shoot, we were together always, and we could be together-we did not tire.' "She once said, 'I am a great coward, but I bluster-you saw us for some days-you saw our year! Oh! it out like the best of them till the danger's over.' I was told by one of the members of the council awaiting her delivery, that Dr Baillie came in, and said in answer to some enquiries, 'She's doing very well: she'll not die of fear she puts a good Brunswick face upon the matter.' She had a surprisingly quick ear, which I was pleasantly warned of: whilst playing whist, which being played for shillings, was not the most silent game I ever witnessed, she would suddenly reply to something that the baron or I would be talking of, in the lowest tone, at the end of the room, whilst her companions at the table were ignorant of the cause of her observations. "I tried to check this current of recollection, that was evidently overpowering him (as it was me), by a remark on a part of the picture, and then on its likeness to the youth of the old king. Ah! and my child was like her, for one so young, [as if it had really lived in child| hood. For one so young, it was surprisingly like-the nose, it was higher than childrens' are the mouth, so like hers; so cut, [trying to describe its mouth on his own.] My grief did not think of it, but if I could have a drawing of it! She was always thinking of others, not of herself-no one so little selfish-always looking "I have increased respect for the Bishop of Salisbury, because he appeared to have fully performed his duty in her education. She had, as I have said, great knowledge of the history of this country, and in the busi-out for comfort for others. She had been for hours, for nesses of life, and a readiness in anecdotes of political parties in former reigns. "How often I see her now entering the room, (constantly on his arm,) with slow but firm step, always erect, —and the small, but elegant proportion of her head to her figure, of course more striking from her situation. Her features, as you see, were beautifully cut; her clear blue eye, so open, so like the fearless purity of truth, that the most experienced parasite must have turned from it when he dared to lie." What he says of Prince Leopold, is well calculated to remove all those misapprehensions of his character, which factious virulence has for years been so busily attempting to disseminate: "When I returned to take my breakfast, Colonel Addenbrooke came in : he said, “I don't know what to | many hours, in great pain-she was in that situation And On the whole, the reader will find in these volumes a rich mine of interesting and important information. Sketches in Spain and Morocco. By Sir Arthur de make of these fellows; there's Sir Robert Gardiner swears he can't stay in the room with it; that if he sees it in one room, he'll go into another.-Then there's Dr Short. I said, I suppose by your going out and saying nothing, you don't like the picture. "Like it," he said, THIS is one of a numerous class of works which we (and he was blubbering,) "'tis so like her, and so amiable, are not in the habit of subjecting to the strictest critithat I could not stay in the room."—More passed on the cism. Every person who visits a foreign country obsubject, not worth detailing. I learnt that the prince serves something, or makes some remark which is worwas very much overcome by the sight of the picture, and thy of being preserved. We think it is Harrington in the train of recollections that it brought with it. Colonel his Oceana who mentions a board of council in that imaAddenbrooke went in to the prince, and returning ginary republic, the duty of which was, to receive reports shortly, said, The prince desires me to say how much from all young travellers of what they had seen and learned obliged to you he is for this attention, that he shall in foreign parts. Those who distinguished themselves by always remember it. He said, "Do you think Sir Tho- the extent, accuracy, and importance of the information mas Lawrence would wish to see me? If he would, I they furnished, were marked by the examinators for shall be very glad to see him."-I replied that I thought future employment in affairs of state--and care was you would so if you like, he will see you whenever you taken to record all useful information, even though it choose, before your departure.' Soon after, I went in to came through the medium of a weak brother, lying him. As I passed through the hall, Dr Short came up amid the trifles wherewith his mind was stored "like to me, (he had evidently been, and was crying,) and two grains of wheat amid a bushel of chaff." The inthanked me for having painted such a picture. No one creased activity of the press enables in our days the pubis a better judge than I am, sir,' and he turned away. lic at large to discharge the office of these imaginary "The prince was looking exceedingly pale; but he functionaries. Every person publishes his travels; if received me with calm firmness, and that low, subdued the book be good, it retains a place in our shelves; if invoice that you know to be the effort at composure. He different, what is worthy of preservation is picked out, spoke at once about the picture and of its value to him and the rest dies away in a few months from the memore than to all the world besides. From the beginning mory of man. People complain of the increased numto the close of the interview, he was greatly affected. He | ber of dull books, as if in them “ nature's copy were checked his first burst of affection, by adverting to the eterne"-as if there were no trunkmakers in the world. public loss, and that of the royal family. 'Two generaIt is not the quality of printer's ink to embalm the tions gone!-gone in a moment! I have felt for myself, thoughts of an author, and lay them up like mummies but I have felt for the prince regent. My Charlotte is for eternity-it only serves to diffuse them more widely gone from this country it has lost her. She was a good, for the present. she was an admirable woman. None could know my Charlotte as I did know her! It was my happiness, my duty to know her character, but it was my delight.' Du Sir Arthur de Capell Brooke is by no means one of our best travellers, but he occupies a respectable situation among them. He has an eye in his head, and can |