gations of political economy may seem narrow, and the objects of its scrutiny none of the most dignified; and yet, on more intimate inspection, they will be found neither empty nor unimportant. The complex state into which society has grown, renders it no easy matter to trace the presence and workings of a principle throughout such varying phenomena. And although mere calculations of profit and loss, of pounds, shillings, and pence, may seem of little consequence in the eyes of fastidious and imaginative individuals, yet it is with nations as with men-inattention to economical details, and consequent embarrassments, not unfrequently lead to immoral conduct and degradation. The observance of economy will not supply the place of moral principle; but moral principle dictates and requires the observance of rigid economy. By thus distinctly marking out the end and aim of the science, we get rid at once of the many puny objections which have been urged against it in sheer ignorance, or a yet worse spirit. It has nothing degrading in it. The political economist does not look upon man, as is falsely asserted in the Quarterly Review, in the light of a mere machine. He knows as well as his calumniator, that he has higher powers and a brighter destiny; but, in solving the problem which is proposed to him, he must for the time leave out of view these facts. It is true, that a knowledge of the doctrines of political economy will not of itself constitute a statesman; but it is one of his most indispensable qualifications. It is true, that many false opinions have been maintained by economists, that there is yet great diversity of opinion among them; but the same holds true of moralists, and will the reviewer say that morality is all a fiction—a dream? It is true, that any one presuming to legislate upon the abstract principles of political economy, without an extensive knowledge of the state of society in a nation, would prove himself a presumptuous sciolist; but was it ever objected to the first six books of Euclid, that they did not teach the application of mathematics to physical science? The men who admit that the conclusions of political economy are adverse to their opinions, and then attempt to get rid of these conclusions by such paltry equivocations, give room to suspect that they are conscious of the hollowness of their cause. This brief defence of so important a science cannot, we think, be better followed up than by an examination of the value of a book which the Edinburgh Review has characterised as "by much the best manual of political economy that has yet been presented to the world." Of this eulogy, we have only to say, that it is but a poor compliment to the rest. Mr M'Culloch's eminence as a political economist, his merits as a zealous illustrator and propagator of his favourite science, are too generally acknowledged to leave any room to fear that his reputation might suffer by its being generally known that one of his books is a failure: even although it were consistent with our character for impartiality, to evade the question, or although there were any possibility of permanently deceiving the public. The truth is, that Mr M'Culloch's mind is not of the class which is calculated to compose a good elementary treatise upon any science. He is a sagacious, clear-headed person, who generally manages to take a right view of his subject, often illustrates it happily, and always enforces it with vigour and perseverance. But he is deficient in that acuteness which seizes readily, and defines satisfactorily. He is only able, by dint of iteration, by frequently returning to his subject, and setting it in all different kinds of lights, to effect what more happily constituted minds could do at once. He presents his facts under so many forms, that we are at last able to evolve the principle for ourselves, but this he never does for us. His introductory chapter," labour the source of wealth,"is a case in point; and still more decidedly that portion of his second chapter which is devoted to the elucidation of the nature and source of profit. Another great fault of our author, as an elementary writer, is his tendency to diverge into polemical discussions. There are many passages in this book which would be interesting in the columns of the Scotsman, or the pages of the Edinburgh Review, but which are out of place in an institutional work. Lastly, he is deficient in systematic arrangement. While discussing the elementary principles of value, wealth, &c., he plunges all at once into discussions respecting "gluts," and "chartered banks."." This is as bad as if a mathematical teacher were to introduce a treatise on optics between the 47th and 48th propositions of the first book of Euclid. Again, in utter defiance of all satisfactory scientific arrangement, he manages to discuss indirectly in the course of his first book-on the "production and accumulation of wealth," every topic which belongs to the third and fourth-on the" distribution of wealth," and "consumption of wealth." We have also to complain that Mr M'Culloch frequently indulges in long quotations, which contain mere repetitions of what he has already expressed with sufficient perspicuity in his own words, and which are, moreover, taken from works of sufficiently easy access. Mr M'Culloch's style is in general plain, manly, and unaffected. He unfortunately fails, however, when he attempts ornament. He has no imagination or warmth of feeling, and his figures are cold and commonplace, startling us by their contrast to his usual language, and their inapplicability. His classical quotations are awfully trite. On the whole, although this book contains, with the exception of the absentee question, scarcely one doctrine from which we dissent, and although it contains much good, and even powerful, writing, we cannot speak favourably of it as an elementary work. The advanced student will find scattered through it much that is valuable—but it is only calculated to give the science a repulsive aspect to the tyro. "In fixing on the different pieces, my principal aim has been to keep the book as national and characteristic as possible. Many a clever essay have I rejected, because it might have been written on this side of the Atlantic; and many a graceful tale has been thrown aside, for no graver fault than that, with an assortment of new names, it might have belonged to France, or Switzerland, or Italy, or any land in Christendom, where love is spoken and tears are shed; whilst I have grasped at the broadest caricature, so that it contained indications of local manners; and clutched the wildest sketch, so that it gave a bold outline of local scenery. I wished to show the Americans as they are; or, rather, to make them show themselves, certain that the more graphic was the portraiture, the more favourable would be the impression. * Mr M'Culloch says,-" If an English gentleman, living at home, and using none but foreign articles in his establishment, gives the same encouragement to industry that he would do were he to use none but British articles, he must, it is obvions, do the same thing should he go abroad. Whatever he may get from the foreigner when at Paris or Brussels, must be paid for, directly or indirectly, in British articles, quite in the same way as when he resided in London. Nor is it easy to imagine any grounds for pronouncing his expenditure in the latter more beneficial than in the former." The only difference is, that when he resides in London, the goods or cash exported are given to the foreign country, as the purchase-money of some equivalent; when he resides in Paris or Brussels, they are sent as a free gift. It is not enough that a country produce by its labour; it must be able to retain the product, or receive something equally valuable in exchange. By the absentee system the national resources are diminished, "An editor ought to be partial. I can only hope that the courteous reader, always gracious to merit of any sort especially when attended by novelty-may like the collection, with its acknowledged inequalities, as well as I do. For my own part, I shall think my humble office most amply rewarded, if the attempt to make American manners better known in England should tend, in the slightest degree, to promote kindly feelings between two nations, who, descended from one common ancestry, possessing the same rich and noble language, and alike distinguished by a love of public freedom and domestic virtue, ought, above all the people in the earth, to be to each other, in a social as well as in a political sense, brethren and friends." We have heard it objected by some hypercritics, that Miss Mitford's selection is made from sources too generally accessible. There is something exquisitely disingenuous and coxcombical in this remark. Even admitting that the critic knows more of the sources from which the lady has selected than she has told him in her preface, how many people are there in England who know any thing about them? This collection of stories is published, not for the benefit of the half-dozen English readers who have a little acquaintance with American literature, but for the great mass of our population, which is utterly ignorant of it. We have been determined, in our selection of a specimen of this book, (for being rather a heap of bricks than a house, it may be sold by sample,) by an assertion which we have somewhere met with, that there is no such thing in America as a ghost. The dismal story of Billy Morgan shows that American ships do not share in the exemption; at least, as long as they remain upon the waters of the old world. Billy is thus introduced to the reader : "Sometime in the year 1800 or 1801, I am not certain which, a man of the name of William Morgan-I don't mean the person whose ‘abduction' has made so much noise in the world-enlisted on board the United States frigate -, for a three years' cruize in the Mediterranean. He was an awful-looking person, six feet four inches high; a long, pale visage, deeply furrowed with wrinkles; sunken eyes, far up towards his forehead; black exuberant hair, standing on end, as if he was always frightened at something; a sharp chin, of a length proportioned to his height; teeth white, but very irregular; and the colour of his eyes what the writers on supernatural affairs call very singular and mysterious. Besides this, his voice was hollow and sepulchral; on his right arm were engraved certain mysterious devices, surmounted with the letters E. M.; and his tobacco-box was of iron. His everyday dress was a canvass hat, with a black ribbon band, a blue jacket, white trowsers, and leather shoes. On Sundays, he wore a white beaver, which, among sailors, bespoke something extraordinary; and on rainy days, a pea-jacket, too short by half-ayard. It is worthy of remark, that Morgan entered on Friday; that the frigate was launched on Friday; that the master carpenter who built her was born on Friday; and that the squadron went to sea on Friday. All these singular coincidences, combined with his mysterious appearance, caused the sailors to look upon Morgan with some little degree of wonder. During the voyage to Gibraltar, Morgan's conduct served to increase the impression his appearance had made on the crew. He sometimes went without eating for several days together-at least no one ever saw him eat; and, if ever he slept at all, it was without shutting his eyes or lying down; for his messmates, one and all, swore that, wake at what time of the night they would, Morgan was seen sitting upright in his hammock, with his eyes glaring wide open. When his turn came to take his watch upon deck, his conduct was equally strange. He would stand stock-still in one place, gazing at the stars, or the ocean, apparently unconscious of his situation; and when roused by his companions, fall flat on the deck in a swoon, When he revived, he would fall to preaching the most strange and incomprehensible rhapsodies that ever were heard. In their idle hours upon the forecastle, Morgan would tell such stories about himself, and his strange escapes by sea and land, as caused the sailors' hair to stand on end, and made the jolly fellows look upon him as a person gifted with the privilege of living for ever. He often, indeed, hinted that he had as many lives as a cat, and more than once offered to let himself be hanged for the gratification of his messmates. On more than one occasion, he was found lying on his back in his hammock, apparently without life, his eyes fixed and glowing, his limbs stiff and rigid, his lower jaw sunk down, and his pulse motionless, at least so his messmates swore when they went to call the doctor; though, when the latter came, he always found Morgan as well as ever he was in his life, and apparently unconscious of all that had happened." Morgan, in consequence of this behaviour, attracts the notice of the Captain, who prescribes a course of the cato'-nine-tails to cure him of his fits, but in vain. The end of Billy's mortal, and the commencement of his spi ritual, career, is given in these words: the sailors talked and wondered, and Captain R-pun"After this, Morgan continued his mysterious pranks, days' sail of Gibraltar, admitting the wind continued fair, ished him, until the squadron were within two or three as it then was. Morgan had been punished pretty severely that morning for star-gazing and falling into a swoon on his watch the night before, and had solemnly assured his messmates, that he intended to jump overboard and drown himself the first opportunity. He made his will, dressed plenished his tobacco-box, put his allowance of biscuit in himself in his best, and settled all his affairs. He also rehis pocket, and filled a small canteen with water, which he strung about his neck, saying, that perhaps he might take it into his head to live a day or two in the water, before he finally went to the bottom. "Between twelve and one, the vessel being becalmed, the night a clear starlight, and the sentinels pacing their rounds, Morgan was distinctly seen to come up through the hatchdrop into the sea. A midshipman and two seamen testified way, walk forward, climb the bulwark, and let himself to the facts, and Morgan being missing the next morning, there was no doubt of his having committed suicide by drowning himself. This affair occasioned much talk, and various were the opinions of the ship's crew on the subject. Some swore it was one Davy Jones who had been playing his pranks-others that it was no man, but a ghost or a devil that had got among them—and others were in daily expectation of seeing him come on board again, as much alive as ever he was, "In the meantime, the squadron proceeded but slowly, being detained several days by calms and head winds, most of which were in some way or other laid to Billy Morgan by the gallant tars, who fear nothing but Fridays and men without heads. His fate, however, gradually ceased to be a subject of discussion, and the wonder was quickly passing away, when one night, about a week after his jumping overboard, the figure of Morgan, all pale and ghastly, his clothes hanging wet about him-with eyes more sunken, hair more upright, and face more thin and cadaverous than ever, was seen by one of his messmates who happened to be lying awake, to emerge slowly from the forepart of the ship, approach one of the tables where there was a can of water, from which it took a hearty draught, and disappear in the direction whence it came. The sailor told the story next morning, but as yet very few believed him." He haunts them on board ship, and at Cadiz ; follows them to Malta, where he evinces a strange power of ubiquity. "It was some weeks before the frigate came to the latter place; and, in the meantime, as nothing had been seen of the ghost, it was concluded that the shade of Billy Morgan was appeased, or rather the whole affair had been gradually forgotten. Two nights after her arrival, a party of sailors, being ashore at La Vallette, accidentally entered a small tavern, in a remote part of the suburbs, where they commenced a frolic, after the manner of those amphibious bipeds, Among them was the heir of Billy Morgan, who, about three or four in the morning, went to bed, not quite as clearheaded as he might have been. He could not tell how long he had been asleep, when he was awakened by a voice whispering in his ear, Tom, Tom, wake up!' On opening his eyes, he beheld, by the pale light of the morning, the ghastly figure of Billy Morgan, leaning over his bed, and glaring at him with eyes like saucers, Tom cried, Murder! ghost! Billy Morgan!' as loud as he could bawl, until he roused the landlord, who came to know what was the matter. Tom related the whole affair; and enquired, if he had seen any thing of the figure he described. Mine host utterly denied having seen, or ever heard of such a figure as Billy Morgan; and so did all his family. The report was heard of afterwards. As the chest of clothes inherited from his deceased messmate was found entirely empty, it might have been surmised that Tom had deserted, had not a sailor, who was on the watch, solemnly declared that he saw the ghost of Billy Morgan jump overboard with him in a flame of fire, and that they hissed like a red-hot ploughshare in the water. After this bold feat, the spectre appeared no more." It is scarcely fair to destroy such a fine piece of the marvellous, by telling our readers that Captain Rafterwards found Billy, still in the body, and resident in a log hut; and that he obtained from the delinquent a But having given this confession of all his knaveries. hint, from an irresistible propensity to gossip-rede, we close our oracular jaws, and tell them no more. "Captain R-immediately ordered his barge, waited on the governor, explained the situation of his crew, and begged his assistance in apprehending the ghost of Billy Morgan, or Billy himself, as the case might be. That night the governor caused the strictest search to be made in every hole and corner of the little town of La Vallette; but in vain. No one had seen that remarkable being, corporeal or spiritual; and the landlord of the house where the spectre appeared, together with all his family, utterly denied any knowledge of such a person or thing. It is little to be wondered at, that the search proved ineffectual; for that very night, Billy took a fancy to appear on board the frigate, where he again accosted his old friend Tom, to whom he had bequeathed all his goods and chattels. But Tom had The Quarterly Review. No. LXXXVIII. February, no mind for a confidential communication with the ghost, and roared out so lustily, as usual, that it glided away, and disappeared as before, without being intercepted in the confusion which followed. "Captain R was in despair; never was man so persecuted by a ghost in this world before. The ship's crew were in a state of terror and dismay, insomuch, that had an Algerine come across them, they might peradventure have surrendered at discretion. They signed a round robin, drawn up by one of Billy Morgan's old messmates, representing to Captain Rthe propriety of running the ship ashore, and abandoning her entirely to the ghost, which now appeared almost every night, sometimes between decks; at others, on the end of the bowsprit; and at others, cutting capers on the yards and top-gallant mast. The story spread into the town of La Vallette, and nothing was talked of but the ghost of Billy Morgan, which now began to appear occasionally to the sentinels of the fort, one of whom had the courage to fire at it, by which he alarmed the whole island, and made matters ten times worse than ever." His final disappearance is as terrific as the end of a melo-drama. "From Malta, the squadron, after making a cruise of a few weeks, proceeded to Syracuse, with the intention of remaining some time. They were obliged to perform a long quarantine; the ships were strictly examined by the health officers, and fumigated with brimstone, to the great satisfaction of the crew of the frigate, who were in great hopes this would drive away Billy Morgan's ghost. These hopes were strengthened, by their seeing no more of that troublesome visitor during the whole time the quarantine continued. The very next night after the expiration of the quarantine, Billy again visited his old messmate and heir, Tom Brown, lank, lean, and dripping wet, as usual; and after giving him a rousing shake, whispered, Hush, Tom; I want to speak to you about my watch and chest of clothes.' But Tom had no inclination to converse with his old friend, and cried out 'murder' with all his might; when the ghost vanished as before, muttering, as Tom swore, 'You bloody infernal lubber.' "In addition to the vexation arising from this persevering and diabolical persecution of Billy's ghost, various other strange and unaccountable things happened almost every day on board the frigate. Tobacco-boxes were emptied in the most mysterious manner, and in the dead of the night; sailors would sometimes be missing a whole day, and return again, without being able to give any account of themselves; and not a few of them were overtaken with liquor, without their being ever the wiser for it; for they all swore they had not drunk a drop beyond their allowance. Sometimes, on going ashore on leave, for a limited time, the sailors would be decoyed, as they solemnly assured the captain, by some unaccountable influence, into strange out-of-the-way places, where they could not find their road back; and where they were found by their officers in a state of mysterious stupefaction, though not one had tasted a drop of liquor. On these occasions, they always saw the ghost of Billy Morgan, either flying through the air, or dancing on the tops of the steeples, with a fiery tail, like a comet. Wonder grew upon wonder every day; until the wonder transcended the bounds of human credulity. "At length, Tom Brown, the night after receiving a visit from Billy Morgan's ghost, disappeared and was never 1831. THE return of a comet before its allotted time, the rise of the sun about an hour after midnight, could scarcely have given greater surprise than the anomaly of "The Quarterly Review published monthly." If all tales be true, this new contravention of the regular laws of nature, no less than those legendary and time-hallowed ones to which we have alluded, forebodes troublous times, strife and discord, heart-burnings and alienations among good friends, and all those withering ills which wait upon civil discord. So be it! We are told that such things must come, although woe is denounced upon him through whom they come woe as well upon him who cloaks his unyielding self-will with the robe of firm adherence to a divine decree, as upon him who seeks to wreak his personal sufferings upon the established order of society. Old Daniel has well described the line of conduct which befits a wise man in such times, in verses which our readers will thank us for making them acquainted with. "Nor is he moved with all the thunder-cracks "Although his heart (so near allied to earth) Yet seeing thus the course of things must run, "And whilst distraught Ambition compasses, It is solely on account of the concluding article upon which of all his comedies is, with the exception of the Clouds, our favourite. The following extract may serve as a specimen of the manner in which the subject is treated: "What was the real chorus of this powerful drama, (and with what singular propriety and ingenuity it was selected, supposing our theory to be correct,) the reader has already seen it is one, however, of a very different description, which has given a title to the drama itself. One of the temples or theatres appropriated to the service of Bacchus in Athens, and in which the scenic performances of the old Greeks took place, was situated near a part of that metropolis usually called The Marshes;' and those who know by experience what tenants such places commonly harbour in more southern climates, will think it not impossible that the representations of the stage, and more particularly in theatres which were generally without a roof, were occasionally disturbed, to the great annoyance of the dramatists, by the noisy vociferations of these more ancient and legitimate Lords of the Marshes. One of them, at all events, was a man not to be offended with impunity by biped or quadruped; and, wherever the foes of Aristophanes were to be found-above ground or below-on land or waterhe had shafts both able and willing to reach them. In his descent to the lower world, the patron of the stage is accordingly made to encounter a band of most pertinacious and invincible frogs, and the gradations through which the mind of Bacchus runs, after the first moments of irritation have subsided-from coaxing to bullying-from affected indifference to downright force, are probably a mere transcript of the poet's own feelings under similar annoyances. We never, of course, dreamed of applying the strict rules of translation to an author, whose writings set all ordinary rules at defiance; but we confess that we feel less than ordinarily anxious to have the following version tried by any of the old copies, and still less by a text, which the sound and excellent scholarship of Dindorf has brought, we are persuaded, as nearly to the state under which it first left its author's hands, as existing MSS. can now possibly bring it. We are not at present breathing the air either of Christ Church meadow or Trinity gardens; and if our version of a piece of mere pleasantry, which involves nothing in it beyond a moment's laugh, should be so happy as to satisfy the general reader,' we shall affect, 'for the nonce,' to know nothing of the objections which more scientific persons, the students of the brilliant Hermann, and acute Reisigius, might be disposed to make to our arrangement of this little extravaganza. "Scene, the Acherusian Lake. Bacchus at the oar in Charon's boat; Charon;-Chorus of Frogs; in the background a view of Bacchus's Temple or Theatre, from which are heard the sounds of a scenical entertainment. Semi-chorus. Croak, croak, croak! Semi-chorus. Croak, croak, croak! (In answer, and with the musician octave lower.) Full Chorus. Croak, croak, croak! Leader of the Chorus. When flagons were foaming, And roisterers were roaming, And bards flung about them their gibe and their joke; Still was found to belong To the sons of the marsh, with their Full Chorus. Croak, croak! Leader. Shall we pause in our strain, The pipe and the minstrel to gladden the folk? With a note strong and clear, A chant corresponding of Chorus. Croak, croak! Bacchus (mimicking.) Croak, croak! by the gods I shall If you pester and bore my ears any more (To Chorus.) But keep in the vein, With a croak, croak, croak! That I care for such stuff, As your croak, croak, croak! Chorus (fortissimo.) Croak, croak, croak! ! 'Mid lilies and plants of the water I stray; Or when the sky darkens with tempest and rain, I sink like a pearl in my watery domain: Yet, sinking or swimming, I lift up a song, Or I drive a gay dance with my eloquent throng- For a knave's petty trouble, Shall I my high charter and birth-right revoke? Nay, my efforts I'll double, And drive him like stubble Before me, with Chorus. Croak, croak, croak! Bacchus. I'm ribs of steel, I'm heart of oak! Let us see if a note May be found in this throat To answer their croak, croak, croak! Leader. Poor vanity's son! And dost think me outdone, He shall not forget soon Of our croak, croak, croak! (Croaks loudly.) *The comic performances of the Athenians were usually brought Chorus. (Croak, with a discordant crash of music.) I have had my death-stroke; To be gall'd by the yoke Of this croak, croak, croak, croak! Leader. Friend, friend, I may not be still: And the march of creation-despite reprobation- For a Chorus. Croak, croak, croak! Bacchus (in a minor key.) Nay, nay take your own way, I've said out my say, And care nought, by my fai', For your croak, croak, croak! Leader. Care or care not, 'tis the same thing to me, I have but one note, and I'll chant it with glee, Take this from my rudder-(dashing at the frogs)- And now let us see if you'll trouble us more Leader. You may batter and bore, You may thunder and roar, Yet I'll never give o'er Till I'm hard at death's door, Semi-Chorus. With my croak, croak, croak! Semi-Chorus (diminuendo.) With my croak, croak, croak! Full Chorus (in a dying cadence.) With my croak-croak -croak! (The Frogs disappear.) Bacchus (looking over the boat's edge.) Spoke, spoke, spoke! (To Charon.) Pull away, my old friend, For at last there's an end To their croak, croak, croak. (Bacchus pays his two obols, and is landed.)" The remaining literary articles are:-A review of Townson's Practical Discourses-acute and erudite; one of Pitcairn's Trials-good; one of Herschel's Treatise on Sound, which we have not yet had time to peruse, otherwise than in a very cursory manner. The article on a Poor Law for Ireland is on a par with the rest of this publication's essays on Political Economy. The Year Book. By William Hone. Parts I. and II. (For January and February.) London. Thomas Tegg. 1831. THIS is a worthy successor of its publisher's EveryDay Book. It is a register of pleasing events and associations, happening upon, or connected with, every day of the year-a calendar of pleasing and profitable information. "This work will be published," says Mr Hone, in thirteen monthly parts. A part, with at least eight engravings, will appear on the first of every month. The last part, with title-page, frontispiece, and copious indexes, will appear on the last of December." To this brief prologue, we add, that the matter is excellent, the printing elegant, and the engravings spirited. We subjoin a few extracts, as specimens of the contents. A WALK IN WINTER. "Healthy and hearty, and strong of limb, on a sharp cold frosty morning, I clap on my hat, button up my coat, draw on my gloves, and am off with a friend for a walk Over the hills and far away. We foot it, and crush the snow right merrily together. How winter-like is yonder farm-yard! That solitary melancholy jacques-a jackass with his ears down, and his knees trembling, is the very picture of cold. That drake looks as though his blood were congealed, and he wanted a friendly handling to thaw it, as they do his brother's at Naples on the day of St Januarius. Yonder goose on one leg seems weighing the difficulty of putting down the other. The fowls cheerlessly huddle together, ignorant of the kite soaring beautifully above them, whetting his beak on the keen wind. Wheugh! what a clatter! he has plumped into the midst of the poultry, seized a fine hen, and is flying down the wind with his screaming prey. "Along the lane, where, in summer, the hedgerows and banks are deliciously green, and the ear is charmed with the songs of birds, the branches are now bare of leaves, and the short herbage covered with the drifted snow, except close to the thickly growing roots of the blackthorn. fowler with his nets has captured a lark. Poor bird! Yon never again will he rise and take flight in the boundless air, At heaven's gate singing➡ He is destined to a narrow cage, and a turf less wide than his wings. Yonder, too, is a sportsman, with his gun and sideling looks, in search of birds, whom hunger may wing within reach of shot-he is perplexed by a whirling snipe at too great a distance. There is a skater on the pool, and the fish below are doubtless wondering at the rumbling and tumbling above. That sparrowhawk is hurrying after a fieldfare. Look! he is above his object, see how he hovers; he stoops a shot from the sportsman-down comes the hawk, not in the beauty of a fierce swoop, but fluttering in death's agony; and the scared fieldfare hastens away, low to ground." A CHRISTMAS SONG. "Come, help me to raise Loud songs to the praise Of good old English pleasures: To the Christmas cheer, And the foaming beer, And the buttery's solid treasures ;— "To the stout sirloin, And the rich spiced wine, And the boar's head grimly staring; To the frumenty, And the hot mince-pie, Which all folks were for sharing ; "To the holly and bay, In their green array, Spread over the walls and dishes; Of the wassail cup, With its toasted healths and wishes ; "To the honest bliss Of the hearty kiss, Where the mistletoe was swinging; On the pale green branches clinging ; "When the warm blush came The vows they spoke, "To the story told O'er the embers dimly glowing, "To the tuneful wait At the midnight's close, "To all pleasant ways, In those ancient days, When the good folks knew their station : And the king revered, "When a father's will As a law, by his children heeded; "When the jest profane |