ART. VII. Six Picturesque Views in North Wales, engraved in ON 4to. N contemplative minds, sublime and beautiful scenery has always been known to make the most powerful impressions; and Admiration may as justly be allowed to inspire poetry, as Indignation. Who can ramble among picturesque and romantic objects, without feeling a mixed sensation of awe and pleasure? and who that has been in the habit of recurring to his pen, in order to embody and record his intellectual operations, can restrain himself from discharging his full soul either in verse or prose? The pen, it must be admitted, is inadequate to display pictures of nature with so much accuracy to the imagination, as the pencil can exhibit them to the eye: but the former has nevertheless this prominent advantage over the latter, that it can give a tongue to the silent wilderness, make the noisy cataract eloquent to the mind, and enlarge the pleasures of contemplation by regular trains of reflection. In the small publication before us, Nature is both delineated and described; and whether we look to the sketches of the bold and diversified seenery in Wales, or to the poetical reflections which they excited in the mind of the author, we cannot withhold our acknowlegements of his talents. The engravings in acquatinta by Alken, from Mr. Broughton's own drawings, are beautiful: but in the pleasure which they have afforded us, we cannot make all our readers participate ;-if, however, we cannot copy engravings, we can quote poetry, and Mr. Broughton's verse will in some measure compensate for the omission. The first plate represents the Fall of the River Machno in Carnarvonshire; and the scenery in its vicinity is singularly romantic, particularly at its junction with the river Conway. The author describes himself as leaving the Fall of the Machno in a summer evening on his return to England; and he expresses a hope that his reflections will convey the regret of a contemplative mind, on the loss of the happiness which it had In fusing iron by sulphur, we read this process is employed for making shot used in hunting we have not Montucla by us, but we strongly suspect that the original word in the French is chasse, which is used to denote generally quest or pursuit of game, and in the present instance would mean shooting. The account of Dials is much too long. some some time enjoyed in an excursion amid the sublime and beau- To save their native hills; that even now, Still awe the Saxon bred in humbler climes.' He proceeds afterward to an enumeration of those sublime objects which excited his intellectual pleasures: - Ye cloud-capt hills By your immensity that raise our souls To the great Architect, whose word hath form'd Studded with stars, yon radiant orb of day, Ye, like those glorious works, should never know of Nearer by you to mortal sight convey'd. Wide rent, and rushing down with horrid crash Than where the sun, more vertical, pours down With reluctant steps, he quits this scene of wonders; and his unwillingness is forcibly expressed in a lingering farewell, which dwells on each of those subjects which are about to retire from his view: • Farewell, blest haunt of Peace! Beneath Beneath the wooded rock might love to muse To troubled thoughts. Farewel the pleasing dread Save by the eagle's screams, or thundr'ing fall Sweet is the rise of dawn, chasing the mists Ah transient visions, fleeting as the joys When ye have cheer'd me! rare as are the drops Of worldly sorrow, to beguile our path Through the sad vale of woe. Sweet scenes, farewel! Dip their dark branches in his pebbly brink Pellucid, or near Aran's shaggy tops, Farewel! thou wooded vale, that hear'st her roar The The loud wave rages, whitening with his foam Her influence lingers o'er his grassy tomb.' In these romantic regions, which present so many objects to inspire devotion, it is a kind of bathos to represent the sabbath bell from the low-roofed church' as seeming to say The swains were grateful to a bounteous God E'en for their scanty crops.' Indeed, the people are represented as a happy race; and, as Goldsmith says of the Swiss, "That the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar But bind him to his native mountains more," so Mr. B. exhorts the Welsh To love their mountains and enjoy their storms.' Several of the author's expressions are borrowed from our eminent poets, but he has not marked them with quotation commas. Mr. B. has taken for his motto a not inapposite passage from Gray: "Præsentiorem conspicimus Deuma ART. VIII. Le Forester, a Novel. By the Author of Arthur Fitz-Albini *. 3 Vols. 121110. 10s. 6d. Boards. White. ROM the common practice of modern novelists, a reader might imagine that obscurity was the aim of this species of composition. We have heard, in an old farce, of making an illumination to keep the people in the dark; and we now frequently meet with narratives, in which the author endeavours to keep the reader ignorant of the principal incidents, till the conclusion of the wo. This, it may be said, is agreeable to See Rev. vol. xxvii. N. S. p. 318. the May. the Horatian precept, in medias prorampere res: but it has been carried to great excess. The novels of Retife de Breton, particularly, abound with this sort of extravagance; and we should not wonder to see a bold writer commence with the execution of his hero, and employ some volumes in a retrospect of his "birth, parentage, and education." The author of the tale before us cannot be charged with this species of impropriety. His incidents are clearly deduced, and the distress is always intelligible. The language, though not uniformly correct, is, above mediocrity; and the writer has shewn an acquaintance with English history beyond the reach of common novellists. We insert a passage, as a slight specimen of the work: Lord Forester, pressed with increasing difficulties by the agents of his unfortunate and ill used nephew Godfrey, had for some time begun to feel his spirits and courage sink. As his prospects grew more gloomy, his conscience smote him. But how could he resolve to make restitution of his usurped rank and property? Little was he fitted for the privations of adversity: all his enjoyments were worldly; and in the splendour of titles, in the luxury of wealth alone could he overpower the compunctions of a guilty mind! Too subtle, to be ignorant that that which he ought to resign, was his only protection from scorn and infamy, how wretched were his present feelings! Sorrowful and almost desponding, he went down to the old family seat at Hedindon. It stood on a rough knowl, abruptly overhanging on one side a precipitous stream, which issued from the distant woodcrowned mountains that bounded the park; a rude, neglected, but magnificent pile of building, the mixed work of several centuries; with windows, gateways, towers, and battlements projecting in an hundred various shapes delightful to the picturesque eye, and feeding, the fancy with iomantic ideas. The park itself was of a congenial character; extensive, broken, exuberant in ancient trees, and as if it had been for ages untouched by the hand of art or cultivation. Wild herds grazed at a distance with fierce or fearful looks; or started from the covering of the spreading brake, or from the shade of the old twisted thorn, and scudded before the wind. Here and there a keeper's lodge or labourer's cottage was seen peeping out of a dingle, whose solitary inhabitants appeared almost as unacquainted with the haunts of men, as the brute tribes that fed around them. Lofty woods rose up to the horizon on the opposite bank of the river, through which the ancient avenues that had been formerly cut and kept with such care, were now half grown up, and sometimes rendered impassable with neglect. The inside of the house was not less magnificent, nor less rude and neglected than the outside. A massive gate of entrance; gloomy courts; an immense hall with a roof of carved oak, and high windows darkened with painted glass; numerous apartments of every size and shape; a labyrinth of passages; long endless galleries hung thick with grim-visaged paintings; and a melancholy chapel, in which supersti tion |