series may pass entire into the hands of thousands more. Their excellences are her own, and incommunicable; their defects are, in some degree, those of other people; and are, perhaps, in no case such but what time and care-time to acquire more extensive information, and care in reflecting upon it when acquired-may effectually remove. Genius is not by itself sufficient for her task. Her genius too appears to be of a kind peculiarly exposed to make for itself great reverses. She must correct, as well as complete her knowledge, and must bring to bear good sense and judgment on it, when it has been thus corrected. It is only in this manner that we can crown our unfeigned admiration of her talents, and an equally unfeigned respect for her virtuous intentions, with an unconditional confidence in the justness and value of her opinions. The errors against which she has come forth are more dangerous than a hundred Siseras. She has got hold, we really think, of what is vulgarly called the right nail by the head. She is in possession also of a fairy hammer, with which to drive it. A little human pains and caution alone seem wanting, in order to secure her (what we heartily wish her) that success in the cause of truth, which may make her famous among women.'

In the meantime, it is most desirable that Miss Martineau, before their publication, should submit her writings to some dull friend, who, instead of her hundred talents, would bring a calm sober eye for the detection of unavoidable inadvertencies. Above all, let her recede from her monthly contract, and give herself, in a work where the inspiration of genius is not so indispensable as accurate observation and patient thought, time duly and seasonably to consult the oracle of her own mind. We perceive by the preface to a recent edition of her Devotional Exercises,' that Miss Martineau thinks, young as she is, that she has already passed the age of those devotional feelings which best qualify the prophetess of youthful prayer. It is utterly impossible that she can be old enough to have so comprehended the height and depth of her present subjects, as to be able to strike off at a heat, such secular sermons as she nevertheless, with due care, may be really capable of delivering to her new class of grown-up pupils. The materials of the science which she has undertaken to illustrate, are too vast and complex to be safely collected and consistently amalgamated, without a severe scrutiny and trial of them in a great variety of lights, temperatures, and methods. Its doctrines require, above all things, a wide and cautious circle of enquiry,-a sober attention to proportions, together with a horror of extremes. Moreover, there is as yet a good deal of debateable ground open, which it is the

height of imprudence to gallop over, à la Cossaque, on trust, under the banner and cockade of any single school. Some of these stories have made a deep impression on us; but on this very account, we are bound to greater caution. Much of their substance is crudely digested, some of the opinions are rather taken up than formed; and many of the occasional passages are very unadvisedly expressed. It is impossible for teachers to maintain their authority as teachers, unless they show a due reverence for their office, by a scrupulous anxiety to maintain our confidence in the completeness and correctness of their knowledge, and in the soundness of their understanding. A certain proportion of absurdity, though small in quantity, and unimportant in quality, will, with many, discredit and leaven any amount of truth; and must destroy, with all, that feeling of security, which is great part of a pupil's pleasure, and which is in some degree his right. Mrs Marcet has less of imagination and of poetry about her. But we feel, while with her, that we are in the hands of a more judicious reasoner, and a surer guide.

ART. II.-Memoir and Correspondence of the late Sir James Edward Smith, M.D. F.R.S. President of the Linnæan Society. Edited by Lady Smith. 2 vols. 8vo. London: 1832.

IT is a pleasing task to turn from the memoirs of military chiefs, crafty statesmen, and despotic kings, to contemplate the serene page of ordinary life, adorned by knowledge, and dignified by virtue. Those who can relish only the dangers of a campaign, or the excitements of personal adventure,-who can breathe only in the poisoned atmosphere of political intrigue, and who can enjoy no-scenery but that of the cataract and the flood,-will find nothing to interest them in the calm and even current of a useful and honoured life. But we trust that England still possesses many capable of appreciating high talent and genuine worth, and who will pursue with interest the career of an eminent and benevolent man, struggling with difficulties, -extending the bounds of knowledge by his writings and his discoveries, enriching his country with new institutions, and rendering the name of England and Englishmen respected whereever virtue and knowledge are the objects of pursuit and admiration.

We can safely promise to this class of our readers, that they will find in the Memoirs of Sir James Edward Smith high grati

fication. There is something in the pursuits of the botanist which gives him in ordinary society a great superiority over the other cultivators of physical science. The literary and the scientific student, uncheered by the sight of nature, carry on their pursuits in the gloom of retirement; and while their minds are occupied with perplexing abstractions, their bodies are chained down, and often perish in a voluntary prison. The character of the philosopher is apt to partake of the austerity of his studies; and when he does mix with the social circle, he finds his mental stores an article of contraband which he dare not bring into the market. He works for another age, and his mind can hold communion only with spirits like his own, few and far removed, who may chance to cross his orbit in pursuing the circle of their own destiny. The botanist, on the contrary, enjoys by patent the simultaneous and healthful exercise of mind and body. Wherever nature smiles in her verdure,-even where she saddens on the heath, or frowns among the mountain rocks, -the botanical student finds ample scope for his researches. It is on the ocean or in the air alone that he is out of his element; but even there he can call in other pursuits to his aid, and his enjoyments are administered unto by the tenants of the air and of the deep.

The domestic party, from which the lover of plants has gone forth, feel a lively interest in the pursuits of his day; and minds of every cast who surround him in the evening circle, are capable of appreciating the discovery of a plant that no eye had before seen, of a heath that had been found only in foreign climes, or of a moss which had performed a part in the processes of the useful arts. The female pencil is called forth to copy the new or the rare plant; the ambition of the youthful aspirant is inflamed; the piety of more aged listeners is warmed; and the vanity of all is flattered when the labours of the day are recorded by learned societies, and when the new acquisition is perpetuated in coloured drawings, and transmitted in duplicates to grace the herbaria of foreign nations. Such is the ordinary day of the botanical traveller, and such the interest of his pursuits in educated circles; but he possesses also an influence over minds which are dead to the beauties of nature and the claims of science,-for both man and beast can enjoy the triumph of his labours when they terminate in the discovery or in the introduction of a sweeter grass, a choicer fruit, or a more juicy sallad.

It has been customary, principally among mathematicians and natural philosophers, to undervalue the study and the collection of minute objects of natural history; but we have never

been able to understand the principle, if there is one, in which this feeling has its origin. He who studies old plants and discovers new ones, is perhaps on a level with the astronomer who only observes and discovers new stars; and the philosophical botanist, who invents new principles of classification, who studies the structure and organs of plants, who developes the laws of their geographical distribution, and who investigates their uses in relation to diet, medicine, and the arts, is engaged in pursuits if not as elevated, at least as important to society, as those who study the laws of the planetary bodies, and render astronomy subservient to the purposes of navigation and of

commerce.

Let it not be said that the last is necessarily a grander and a more ennobling pursuit. Its objects are doubtless on a greater scale; and associated as they are with the future destinies of our species, we might expect them to be more influential in fostering that humility and piety without which knowledge is vain. But though the cause is not easily discovered, it is an undoubted truth, that the botanist is a more humble student of nature than the astronomer. He is instantly struck with the proofs of design which the objects of his contemplation unceasingly present to him, and this feeling is not counteracted by that pride of intellect which seems to involve the astronomer in the admiration of his own sagacity, more than in that of the divine skill. The botanist sees at once the final cause of the creations under his review; the astronomer is perplexed with speculations. Speculation engenders doubt; and doubt is frequently the parent either of apathy or of impiety.

In the survey which we shall now proceed to take of the life and labours of Sir James Edward Smith, the reader will perhaps discover some proof of the truth of the preceding views; and the young naturalist will, we trust, find some inducements to labour, and some important lessons for his guidance.

Sir James Smith was born at Norwich, on the 2d December, 1759. His father, whose profession is not distinctly stated, seems to have been a merchant; and his mother was the granddaughter of Geoffroy Kinderley of Spalding, a celebrated English squire, who was notorious for having had six wives, whom he is said to have selected from healthy counties, and to have sent to the fens of Lincolnshire for fresh air when he wished for another helpmate. His son, the Rev. John Kinderley, Mrs Smith's father, was educated at St Andrews, and thus became intimately acquainted with a Scottish nobleman, Lord D—, concerning whom he has recorded a story so singular and romantic, that our readers will thank us for laying it before

them. The story is given on the authority of Mrs Smith, and of a domestic, who had lived fifty-two years with her mother; both of whom were well acquainted with the fact, and partly witnesses of it.

This nobleman had met with a lady at Bath, both young and attractive, and who passed for the widow of an officer. His lordship becoming attached to this lady, he married her, and they soon after left England to reside on the continent. There, after a few years, she was seized with an alarming illness, and earnestly desired her lord, in case of her death, that she might be conveyed to England, and interred in a particular church, which she named. Upon this event taking place, Lord D. accompanied the body in the same ship, and upon landing at Harwich, the chest in which the remains of his lady were enclosed excited the suspicions of the custom-house officers, who insisted upon ascertaining the contents. Being a good deal shocked with such a threat, Lord D. proposed that it should be removed to the church, and opened in the presence of the clergyman of the parish, who could vouch for its containing what he assured them was within. Accordingly, the proposal was yielded to, and the body conveyed to the appointed place, when, upon opening the chest, the attending minister recognised, in the features of the deceased, his own wife! and communicated the unwelcome discovery to his lordship on the spot. It appeared, upon farther conversation, that Lady D. had been married against her inclination to this person, and, determining to separate entirely from him, had gone he knew not whither, and under an assumed name and character had become the wife of Lord D. The two husbands followed her remains to the grave the next day; and on the same evening Lord D., in great distress of mind, attended by one servant, came to his friend's house in Norwich for consolation. It was winter, and about six o'clock, when he arrived. Mr Kinderley was called out to speak to a stranger, and returning to his wife, desired her to leave them together, pretending that a stranger from Scotland was arrived on particular business. Lord D. sat up with Mr Kinderley the whole night, to unbosom his affliction and extraordinary fate to his friend, and at daybreak, in order to avoid an interview with his host's family, for which his spirits were unequal, he departed.'

From his infancy, Sir James Smith was remarkable for the extreme delicacy of his bodily constitution, and the susceptibility of his mental temperament. He was, therefore, placed under the more immediate care of his mother, and from her he acquired a taste for flowers, which other local circumstances contributed to strengthen. It was owing to the same cause that his education was strictly private. French, Italian, and a little portion of mathematics, were his principal acquisitions. He studied indeed the rudiments of the Latin language; but his father, who was not friendly to a classical education,