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To think of passing bells-of death and dying—
Methought 'twere sweet in early youth to die,
So loved, lamented-in such sweet sleep lying,

The white shrowd all with flowers and rosemary

Strew'd o'er by loving hands !—But then 'twould grieve me
Too sore forsooth! the scene my fancy drew-
I could not bear the thought, to die and leave ye ;
And I have lived, dear friends! to weep for you.

And I have lived to prove, that fading flowers

Are life's best joys, and all we love and prizeWhat chilling rains succeed the summer showers, What bitter drops, wrung slow from elder eyes.

And I have lived to look on Death and dying,

To count the sinking pulse-the short'ning breath-
To watch the last faint life-streak flying-flying-
To stoop to start to be alone with-Death.

And I have lived to wear the smile of gladness,
When all within was cheerless, dark, and cold-
When all earth's joys seemed mockery and madness,
And life more tedious than "a tale twice told."

And now-and now pale pining Melancholy!
No longer veil'd for me your haggard brow
In pensive sweetness-such as youthful folly
Fondly conceited-I abjure ye now.

Away-avaunt! No longer now I call ye
"Divinest Melancholy! Mild, meek maid !"
No longer may your siren spells enthral me,
A willing captive in your baleful shade.

Give me the voice of mirth-the sound of laughter-
The sparkling glance of pleasure's roving eye.
The past is past.-Avaunt, thou dark Hereafter!
Come, eat and drink-to-morrow we must die."

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So, in his desp'rate mood, the fool hath spoken-
The fool whose heart hath said, "There is no God."
But for the stricken heart, the spirit broken,
There's balm in Gilead yet. The very rod,

If we but kiss it, as the stroke descendeth,
Distilleth balm to allay th' inflicted smart,
And "Peace, that passeth understanding," blendeth
With the deep sighing of the contrite heart.

Mine be that holy, humble tribulation

No longer feigned distress-fantastic woeI know my griefs-but then my consolationMy trust, and my immortal hopes I know.

C.

MATILDA; A TALE OF THE DAY.

Ir certainly does appear a little extraordinary that England at the present day should be unable to boast the possession of a single distinguished novelist, and that the higher honours of that department of literature should so long have rested in abeyance. Mrs Radcliffe and Miss Austin (the very antipodes to each other) are gone; and Madame d'Arblay, in the "Wanderer," has afforded convincing proof of the decay of her literary powers, at no time very varied or extensive. It is true, Theodore Hook is yet at his Perihelion, but much as we admire this gentleman's talents, and sympathize in his virtuous antipathy to steel forks, and servants in cotton stockings; and cordially as we applaud his persevering exertions to reform the Criminal Code by imposing signal punishment on the depravity of drinking porter, and eating with a knife, we are not quite convinced that the brilliance of anything he has yet said or done, entitles him to be quoted as an exception. Ireland can at least produce one name, and Scotland several, (we do not speak of the author of Waverley, for he is like a star, and dwells apart,") with which England has absolutely none to put in competition. Where, we should be glad to know, is the English Miss Edgeworth? Or what production of the present age will they oppose to "The Inheritance ?" A work which, when considered as the production of a female, stands unrivalled in our na tional literature, and unites the originality and power sometimes, though rarely, to be met with in our sex, with the more delicate and softer beauties peculiar to her own. We trust that the effect of the applause she has already gained, has been to stimulate, not to satiate, the ambition of this accomplished lady; that she will not suffer her talent to slumber, nor rest her sickle from its task till she has fully reaped that abundant harvest of fame, with which her perseverance must undoubtedly be crowned.

But Matilda-we confess we allowed these volumes to lie a whole month on our table unread. To the lynx eye of a critic, the title did not seem very

*

promising. There appeared to us something Lane-and-Newmanish about it, a certain indescribable redolence of Leadenhall Street, by no means tempting to a nearer approach. Above all, the book had been enveloped from its birth in so dense an atmosphere of puff; and Colburn had so disgustingly besmeared it with his slime and slaver, that we involuntarily set it down for one of those catchpenny "Works of Importance" with which that most imaginative bookseller so frequently delights to surprise us, and the claims of which are always to be estimated in an inverse ratio to the inflation of the panegyric by which they are announced. We did, however, read the book at last. The story we found to be perhaps the most hackneyed and commonplace in the whole circle of novel-writing, and one which had already fifty times at least run the gauntlet of the Circulating Library. The characters appeared to put forth but trifling claims to originality or vigour of conception, and the incidents to be very few, and not very skilfully arranged. Out of such unhopeful materials, however," has the author managed to construct a tale of no ordinary interest and beauty. He seems to have encountered difficulties merely for the sake of surmounting them, to have voluntarily multiplied the obstacles to success only to render his triumph the more signal and complete. He leads us along a beaten track, but is continually laying open new beauties to our view. He launches his little skiff against wind and current, and it is impossible not to admire the grace with which she breasts the waters, and stretches gallantly for her destined haven.

The secret of all this is, that the author of these volumes is a very clever and accomplished person. There is an air of elegance diffused over the whole work, and he has far more than compensated for the want of novelty in his materials, by the fineness of his tact, and the felicity of his execution. His pictures of high life, in particular, though drawn with a light and sketchy pencil, and not very carefully finish

* London. Henry Colburn. 1825.

ed in the minuter details, are well and skilfully grouped, and marked in their easy and flowing outlines by the hand of a master. It is quite visionary to expect such pictures from any but a denizen of this closest of all corporations, the members of which, in the true spirit of our Scottish borough system, maintain the privilege of electing each other. There is no community in which the Alien bill is more rigidly enforced than in the common-wealth of fashion-none of whose laws and constitution the maxim, "Odi profanum vulgus et arceo,' is so strictly adopted as the ruling principle. The discovery of the North-west passage is not more beset with difficulties than that of a navigable passage for merchantmen to the drawingrooms of Grosvenor Square and Park Lane.

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When a stray plebeian, from his talents as a jester or buffoon, succeeds in obtaining the envied privilege of sitting, by sufferance, at great men's feasts," he is aware that he holds this honour by too precarious a tenure, to feel very much at his ease. His attention is too much occupied by the pomp and circumstance by which he is surrounded-he is too morbidly apprehensive of betraying his own vulgarity by a failure in the most trifling ceremonial; too sedulous in his conformance to all the petty observances of the entertainment, to have either the leisure or composure of mind necessary for observations on character. In recording his experience of high life, therefore, it is quite natural that such a person should entirely overlook those finer and less tangible peculiarities, by which the very highest circle of society is distinguished from that immediately beneath it, and reserve his descriptive eloquence for the candelabras, and gilt plate, the routine of the dinner table, the splendour of the liveries, and the portly dignity of the butler. But this is not what we want -and this is not what Lord Normanby (for he is the acknowledged author of Matilda) has given us. The luxurious appliances of aristocratic society, so novel and imposing to the imagination of a vulgar Parvenu, are to him familiar as the air he breathes, and therefore quite as likely to pass unnoticed. In Matilda, we encounter no descriptions of silk draperics, or

Turkey carpets-the sideboard supports its gorgeous burden unnoticed -we are not drilled into the manual and platoon exercise of silver forks and finger glasses--the St Peray sparkles unrecorded, and not one of the party is damned to everlasting fame, for wearing a coarse neckcloth, or a Cornelian ring. Lord Normanby, however, is no mean artist, and has succeeded wonderfully in transferring to his canvass even the most shadowy and evanescent hues of the cameleon fashion. Of this we think no further evidence will be required than is afforded by the following extract :—

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"It was early in the month of July, the daily press, which is headed Fawhen that most valuable department of shionable Arrangements,' contained, among many other pieces of information, which, however intrinsically important, would not be so interesting to my readers, the two following paragraphs :—

"Lord Ormsby (late the Honourable Augustus Arlingford) is arrived at Mivart's Hotel, after an absence of two years on the Continent.'

"Lord and Lady Eatington will this day entertain a distinguished party at their splendid mansion in Grosvenor Square.'

"That intelligence of this description should have attracted every eye, is not to be wondered at, when it is recollected, that, as the advance of the season had diminished the number of these events, the type in which they were announced had proportionably increased in size and importance; and many an absent fair one, who had been prematurely hurried from chalked floors to green fields, had now no other resource than to make

that a distant study which was no longer

a present pleasure. But be this as it above mentioned, the first carriage was may, a little before eight, on the day heard to come clattering up South Audley-street, containing Lord George Darford and Henry Penryn; two youths, most comprehensively described

as

Young men about town.'- Very unlucky, my father wanting the carriage afterwards,' said Lord George' I do so hate to be early. The half-hour introduction to a dinner, like the preface to a book, should always be skipped."

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the fellow drives so fast,' said Mr PenOne might know one was too early, ryn, as they swung round the last corner, at the risk of annihilating a pensive nursery-maid, and all her pretty ones, at one fell swoop.'

"I wonder whom we shall have at

the Eatingtons'? continued he; they have been too much in the Pidcock line this year.'

"Yes,' said Lord George, 'and that's another bore in being early; for your human lion is not like his royal brotherthe liveliest before he's fed.'

"Stopping at the door at this moment, the length of time that elapsed before the thundering announcement of their arrival produced its (usually instantaneous) effect, seemed to confirm their apprehensions as to the flagrant punctuality of their arrival; and the tardy appearance of one liveried lackey alone, in red waistcoat and white apron, verified their worst fears. Many a felon has mounted the fatal ladder with less appearance of shame and contrition, than was painted in the countenances of these unhappy 'young men about town,' as they ascended the carpeted stairs,-about to expiate the offence of such unnatural prematurity of arrival; and the deserts of Arabia would hardly have appeared more awful in their eyes, than did the solitude of the drawing-room, where they found themselves-literally first. Silence succeeded the shutting of the door, which was at length broken by Lord George; whilst, by the help of the pier-glass with his right-hand, he arranged his flattened locks; and, with his left, quelled the first symptoms of insurrection in his neckcloth.

"At least, we shall hear the lions all announced-we shall know who the inmates of the menagerie are to be to-day.' Hardly had this consolation been suggest ed, when the door was opened, not by the regular officer, the groom of the chambers, who scorned to be a party to so untimely an arrival, but by a mumbling footman, who muttered something that was meant to be a name, and disappeared; having ushered in a young man, dressed in deep mourning. Our two friends regarded him with an unacknowledging stare, which the stranger repaid in kind, as he passed to a sofa at the further extremity of the room, and unconcernedly occupied himself with a newspaper; whilst the two youths remained in the window-place, where they had nestled themselves from a sense of solitude.

"In any other civilized country in the world, gentlemen thus accidentally meeting, if they did not, like the lady in the Anti-Jacobin, 'vow an eternal friendship,' would at least, from the circumstance of meeting in the house of a common friend, have been admitted to the local rank of acquaintances, and received the regular brevet allowances of nods, smiles, &c. But here we are more afraid of

being involved in a bow than in a bad bet-of being obliged to acknowledge an acquaintance than a bill-and the most persevering dun is not so embarrassing as the face which, one is obliged to own, has acquired a legal title to a nod, from our having been incautious enough to incur acquaintanceship with the owner.

"There was something in the air and manner of the stranger, which it was impossible for the most unobservant not to remark as peculiarly distinguished; and from the tact which the usage of the world gives to every one in these matters, such would certainly have been the opinion of our two worthies, if their judgment had not been wilfully biassed by the conclusion which they logically deduced from having been everywhere, and knowing everybody,-that 'him whom they did not know they ought not to know; and they would as soon have adopted the doctrine of the Preadamites, as have admitted, that any one, worthy to be ranked among the elect, had existed prior to the commencement of their fashionable millenium, just two years before. Therefore, expecting from the character of the Eatingtons that the party would be rather a mixed one, Mr Penryn whispered to Lord George, 'I think it's the new actor: to be sure this man's figure looks better; but then I only saw him in Richard the Third, with hump, and all that sort of thing.'-'No,' said Lord George, 'I think it's the composer

what's his name?—I caught a glimpse of his head behind the piano-forte, last week, at Lady I.'s, as I squeezed half in at the door-way. You know he asks a hundred pounds a-night, and the Eatingtons are famous for paying in kind; a turtle and champagne for notes-you understand?'

"I have it, George,' retorted the other; 'look at his black coat-depend upon it, it's the Popular Preacher. I never heard him, to be sure; but I'm quite certain it's he.

"The door was now opened, and the Dowager Duchess of Dulladone and the two Lady Townlys were announced. The former situation of Lord George and his friend was bliss, compared to that in which they now found themselves; for, besides the danger of being devoured, as they would have expressed it, by the two Lady Townlys, to which their present unprotected state seemed to expose them, their misery was increased by the shame of having been convicted, by a dowager duchess and her two unmarried daughters, of having arrived before them, and the consciousness of having thereby forfeited their best claim to that admiration hitherto so lavishly bestowed upon

them from that quarter: the young ladies' idea of being 'quite the thing,' consisting in nothing so much as pre-eminent unpunctuality.

"The stranger bowed slightly to the duchess as she passed to his end of the room, which she answered with an inquiring curtsey,-her Grace's eye-sight, which was none of the best, being now rendered more treacherous by the darkness of the room. Who is it? said

she to Lord George, in a low whisper; to which he replied, 'Indeed I don't know,'-in a tone of voice all but impertinently audible. At this moment their host and hostess appeared from an inner room-Lady Eatington employed with a half-drawn-on glove-his lordship applying a half-opened pocket-handkerchief to his nose; both which actions were meant to signify rather reproachfully, than apologetically, You have come sooner than we expected-but here we are.'

"As we have introduced our readers to their house, we shall be expected to make them acquainted with the master and mistress; but Lord and Lady Eatington were those every-day sort of people of whose characters it is almost impossible to speak in affirmatives. Perhaps the two most positive characteristics of his lordship were, that he was a receiver of rents in the country, and a giver of dinners in town. To speak negatively he was no politician — no farmer-no bel esprit-no connoisseur; but the most distinguished of all these classes met at his house, to pronounce upon the merits of one of the best cooks in Europe: in consideration of which, every one, in accepting his invitations, wrote to him- Dear Eatington,

'Yours truly.' And every one enfiled the crowd at Almack's, to squeeze Lady Eatington's hand when she first came to town.

"Her Ladyship was naturally a very silly, and by education (so called), a very illiterate woman; but long habits of the world enabled her to conceal this; and if she was seldom as well informed as her guests, she was always as well dressed as her dinners which answered all the

purpose.

"But how surprised were our young beaux, and our old duchess, to see, that whilst they themselves were casually recognised, the whole of the attention of both host and hostess was directed to the stranger! As the arrival of fresh company made the conversation less constrained, this was explained, though not to the satisfaction of Lord George and Mr Penryn, by overhearing Lady Eatington telling the duchess, whose cars were

almost as defective as her eyes, a long story, of which they caught-Must recollect- Augustus Arlingford'-' long abroad''supposed early disappointment'-'recent death of his brother'now Lord Ormsby'-' very rich,' &c.-which immediately produced from her Grace, in rather a high tone, meant to catch his lordship's ear at some distance, -Excuse my blindness, my lord-Letitia and Cecilia-Lord Ormsby-you must recollect Mr Arlingford, though you were then very young-quite children.'

"The reflections of Lord George and Mr Penryn, upon their half-wilful mistake, were not very consolatory, as the former fame of Augustus Arlingford occurred to them in all its pre-eminence. Lord George now recollected that, in his first conference with his tailor, he had been strongly recommended the Arlingford collar, and that a part of his dress, about which he was very particular, had been called 'Arlingford's.' Mr Penryn, too, had a disagreeable reminiscence, that whilst still at college, he lost a rouleau, when Mr Arlingford's colt won the Derby; and both distinctly remembered, that when they first came out, if any very well-looking young man appeared, all the oracles declared that he had a look of Arlingford;' and this was the man whom they had voted an awkward actor, a squab singer, or a methodist parson.

"From this time the cannonade at the street-door became almost incessant, and every possible variety of arrival was constantly swelling the circle, which, with truly English instinct, had formed itself round the place, where (strange to say) there was not a fire; and many were the different ways of presenting themselves which might be remarked:-First, The tender scion, just budding in the first rays of fashion, who, after advancing desperately, and retiring awkwardly from the circle, seemed anxiously to solicit a protecting nod from those around him, confirmative of the acquaintance he hoped he had made. Then came the wellestablished man of the world, who seemed carelessly to postpone the duties of recognition, till dinner and lights afforded him a more convenient opportunity of doing so. To him succeeded the cidevant jeune homme,' whose 'way of life is fall'n into the sear-the yellow leaf;' who, with out-stretched hand, and perpetual 'how d'ye do,' went the round of the circle, not bating an inch of his prerogative' of acquaintanceship."

The second specimen we shall lay before our readers, shall be somewhat of a different cast. It contains a description of the Hobson family, very

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