accordingly, with the help of two young female | considering that a much fiercer name, more visitors, and my next younger brother-in bewhiskered and beturbaned. It was no part subsequent times a little middy on board of his intention that we should sit lolling on many a ship of H. M., and the most pre- chairs like ladies and gentlemen that had paid destined rebel upon earth against all assump- opera prices for private boxes. He expected tions small or great of superiority-she ar- every one of us, he said, to pull an oar. We ranged a mutiny, that had the unexpected were to act the tragedy. But, in fact, we had effect of suddenly extinguishing the lectures many oars to pull. There were so many forever. He had happened to say, what was characters that each of us took four at the no usual thing with him, that he flattered least, and the future middy had six. He, himself he had made the point under discus-this wicked little middy,* caused the greatest sion tolerably clear; "clear," he added, bow- affliction to the Sultan Amurath, forcing him ing round the half-circle of us, the audience, to order the amputation of his head six sev"to the meanest of capacities;" and then he eral times (that is, once in every one of his repeated, sonorously, "clear to the most ex- six parts), during the first act. In reality, cruciatingly mean of capacities." Upon which the sultan, though a decent man, was too a voice, a female one, but whose I had not bloody. What by the bowstring, and what time to distinguish, retorted -"No, you by the scimitar, he had so thinned the popu haven't; it's as dark as sin;" and then, with lation with which he commenced business, out a moment's interval, a second voice ex- that scarcely any of the characters remained claimed, "Dark as night;" then came my alive at the end of act the first. Sultan young brother's insurrectionary yell," Dark as Amurath found himself in an awkward situamidnight;" then another female voice chimed on. Large arrears of work remained, and in melodiously, "Dark as pitch;" and so the hardly anybody to do it but the sultan himself. peal continued to come round like a catch, the In composing act the second, the author had whole being so well concerted, and the rolling to proceed like Deucalion and Pyrrha, and to fire so well sustained, that it was impossible create an entirely new generation. Apparto make head against it; whilst the abrupt- ently this young generation, that ought to ness of the interruption gave to it the protect- have been so good, took no warning by what ing character of an oral "round robin," it being had happened to their ancestors in act the impossible to challenge any one in particular first; one must conclude that they were quite as the ringleader. Burke's phrase of "the as wicked, since the poor sultan had found swinish multitude," applied to mobs, was then himself reduced to order them all for execuin everybody's mouth; and, accordingly, after tion in the course of this act the second. To my brother had recovered from his first aston- the brazen age had succeeded an iron age; ishment at this insurrection, he made us and the prospects were becoming sadder and several sweeping bows that looked very much | sadder as the tragedy advanced But here like tentative rehearsals of a sweeping fusil- the author began to hesitate. He felt it hard lade, and then addressed us in a very brief to resist the instinct of carnage. And was it speech, of which we could distinguish the right to do so? Which of the felous, whom words pearls and swinish multitude, but ut- he had cut off prematurely, could pretend tered in a very low key, perhaps out of regard that a court of appeal would have reversed to the two young strangers. We all laughed his sentence? But the consequences were in chorus at this parting salute: my brother dreadful. A new set of characters in every himself condescended at last to join us; but act brought with it the necessity of a new there ended the course of lectures on natural plot: for people could not succeed to the philosophy. arrears of old actions, or inherit ancient mo

As it was impossible, however, that he should remain quiet, he announced to us, that for the rest of his life he meant to dedicate himself to the intense cultivation of the tragic drama. He got to work instantly; and very soon he had composed the first act of his "Sultan Selim;" but, in defiance of the metre, he soon changed the title to "Sultan Amurath,"

After

"Middy;"-I call him so, simply to avoid confusion, and by way of anticipation; else he was too young at this time to serve in the navy. wards, he did so for many years, and saw every variety of service in every class of ships belonging to our navy. At one time, when yet a boy, he was captured by pirates, and compelled to sail with

them; and the end of his adventurous carcer was that for many a year he has been lying at the bottom of the Atlantic.

tives, like a landed estate. Five crops, in fact, must be taken off the ground in each separate tragedy, amounting, in short, to five tragedies involved in one.

along the line of Oxford Street; and this was close to a bridge, which also was a new creation; for previously all passengers to Manchester went round by Garrat. This factory became the officina gentium to us, from which swarmed forth those Goths and Vandals that continually threatened our steps; and this bridge became the eternal arena of combat, we taking good care to be on the right side of the bridge for retreat, i.e., on the town side, or the country side, accordingly as we were going out in the morning, or returning in the afternoon. Stones were the implements of warfare; and by continual practice we became expert in throwing them.

. Such, according to the rapid sketch which at this moment my memory furnishes, was the brother, who now first laid open to me the gates of war. The occasion was this. He had resented, with a shower of stones, an affront offered to us by an individual boy, belonging to a cotton-factory; for more than two years afterwards this became the teterrima causa of a skirmish or a battle as often as we passed the factory; and unfortunately that was twice a-day on every day except Sunday. Our situation in respect to The origin of the feud it is scarcely requithe enemy was as follows:-Greenhay, a site to rehearse, since the particular accident country-house newly built by my father, at which began it was not the true efficient that time was a clear mile from the outskirts cause of our long warfare, but (as logicians of Manchester; but in after years Manches- express it) simply the occasion. The cause ter, throwing out the tentacula of its vast ex- lay in our aristocratic dress: as children of pansions, absolutely enveloped Greenhay; an opulent family, where all provisions were and, for any thing I know, the grounds and liberal, and all appointments elegant, we were gardens which then insulated the house, may uniformly well-dressed, and, in particular, we have long disappeared. Being a modest wore trousers (at that time unheard of, except mansion, which (including hot walls, offices, in maritime places) and Hessian boots-a and gardener's house) had cost only six thou- crime that could not be forgiven in the Lansand pounds, I do not know how it should cashire of that day, because it expressed the have risen to the distinction of giving name double offence of being aristocratic, and beto a region of that great town; however, it ing outlandish. We were aristocrats, and it has done so; and at this time, therefore, was vain to deny it; could we deny our boots? after changes so great, it will be difficult for whilst our antagonists, if not absolutely the habitué of that region to understand how sansculottes, were slovenly and forlorn in my brother and myself could have a solitary their dress, often unwashed, with hair totally road to traverse between Greenhay and Prin- neglected, and always covered with flakes of cess Street, then the termination, on that side cotton. Jacobins they were not by any symof Manchester. But so it was. Oxford pathy with the French Jacobinism that then Street, like its namesake in London, was then desolated western Europe; for, on the concalled the Oxford Road; and during the cur- trary, they detested every thing French, and rency of our acquaintance with it, arose the answered with brotherly signals to the cry of first three houses in its neighborhood; of" Church and king," or "King and constituwhich the third was built for the Rev. S. H., tion." But, for all that, as they were perone of our guardians, for whom his friends fectly independent, getting very high wages, had also built the church of St. Peter's not a and in a mode of industry that was then takDowshot from the house. At present, how-ing vast strides ahead, they contrived to recever, he resided in Salford, nearly two miles oncile this patriotic anti-Jacobinism with a from Greenhay; and to him we went over personal Jacobinism of that sort which is daily, for the benefit of his classical instructions. One sole cotton-factory had then risen

"Greenheys," with a slight variation in the spelling, is the name given to that district, of which Greennay formed the original nucleus. Probably it was the solitary situation of the house which (failing any other grounds of denomination) raised it to this privilege.

native to the heart of man, who is by natural impulse (and not without a root of nobility) impatient of inequality, and submits to it only through a sense of its necessity, or a long experience of its benefits.

It was on an early day of our new tyrocinium, or perhaps on the very first, that, as

pretty uniform; viz., that my brother and I my childhood, I account among the very terminated the battle by insisting upon our greatest those which reached me through the undoubted right to run away. Magna Charta, various chants connected with the "O JubiI should fancy, secures that great right to late," the "Magnificat," the "Te Deum,” the every man; else surely it is sadly defective." Benedicite," etc. Through these chants it But out of this catastrophe to most of our was that the sorrow which laid waste my inskirmishes, and to all our pitched battles ex- fancy, and the devotion which nature had cept one, grew a standing schism between my made a necessity of my being, were profoundly brother and me. My unlimited obedience interfused: the sorrow gave reality and depth had respect to action, but not to opinion. to the devotion; the devotion gave grandeur Loyalty to my brother did not rest upon hy- and idealization to the sorrow. Neither was pocrisy because I was faithful, it did not my love for chanting altogether without follow that I must be false in relation to his knowledge. A son of my reverend guardian, capricious opinions. And these opinions some- much older than myself, who possessed a sintimes took the shape of acts. Twice, at the gular faculty of producing a sort of organ acleast, in every week, but sometimes every companiment with one-half of his mouth, night, my brother insisted on singing "Te whilst he sang with the other half, had given Deum" for supposed victories which he had me some instructions in the art of chanting: won; and he insisted also on my bearing a and, as to my brother, he, the hundredpart in these "Te Deums." Now, as I knew handed Briareus, could do all things; of of no such victories, but resolutely asserted course, therefore, he could chant. He could the truth;-viz., that we ran away;-a slight chant: he had a right to chant: he had a jar was thus given to the else triumphal effect right, perhaps, to chant "Te Deum." For of these musical ovations. Once having if he ran away every day of his life, what uttered my protest, however, willingly I gave my aid to the chanting; for I loved unspeakably the grand and varied system of chanting in the Romish and English churches. And, looking back at this day to the ineffable benefits which I derived from the church of for another occasion.

then ? Sometimes the enemy mustered in overpowering numbers-seventy, or even ninety strong. Now, if there is a time for every thing in this world, surely that was the time for running away. But in the mean time I must pause, reserving what has to follow

Fox.-Though William Johnson Fox has not of prophetic fervor he would have taken a grand succeeded in the House of Commons, and prophetic attitude, and been a foremost worker though what he now writes wants force and fire, and fighter for England's moral and religious yet in his earlier and perhaps more earnest days reformation. He preferred instead the society he displayed eminent oratorical ability. Style of actors and artists. Fox is perhaps not selfish, is apt to be corrupted by writing for periodicals; but he is self-indulgent. He is patriotic and and in this way Fox's style has suffered as much courageous, but he is not enthusiastic. Without as any one's. But it is naturally a good style, strong passions, persistency of purpose, and not free from affectation, but certainly free from stupendous unity of idea, he has frittered away artificiality. It was his misfortune to begin life his brain on trifling and transient things. Many in connection with a small, conceited, frigid sect years ago I read his "Christian Morality" and -and small sects partly dwarf and partly para- his "Christ and Christianity" with unbounded lyze when they do not in envy and malice slay a admiration. Whether I should feel the same man of any real nobleness and talent. Fox pages to be beautiful and eloquent now I know spent his best years in the vain attempt to give not. Fox, in any case, will always be for me a the Unitarian sect something of catholic culture pleasant memory. His thoughts did not nourish and tendency. When he saw that his efforts my own thoughts; but they kindled that generwere hopless, he found, or thought that he could ous glow which in youth is better than thinking. find, escape only into the ordinary literary region.-Critic. This was falling instead of rising. With aught

and feel. said to the psalmist," is exactly what the heart Poems. By Henry W. Longfellow. Bogue, of every good and thoughtful and laudably

The Song of Hiawatha. By H. W. Long-Footsteps of Angels, The Reaper and the fellow. Bogue, 1851.

The causes of this rapid and remarkable popularity are easily traceable in Mr. Longfellow's poems, especially his earlier ones. His merits certainly do not consist in any imaginative originality. The moral and intellectual quality of the Voices of the Night is such as" appeals to the sympathies, and falls within the comprehension, of every reader. They are written from what may be called everybody's point of view; they express, always neatly, sometimes gracefully, and now and then beautifully, what nine-tenths of their readers think and feel on the subject, or« rather what they know they ought to think