then venture up into the tower." She then prepared a more substantial meal for the kitchen, by laying a cloth, and setting forth cold meat, fruit tart, and bread, and cheese, and ale, with a provident care that looked like a welcome; for scarcely was this done before in came her husband, an aged but hale looking countryman, accompanied by a man many years his junior, who, by a pack on his back done up in black glazed cotton, and a large amount of lacquered jewellery, was evidently a travelling teaman, trading on his own account. He had that bold, forward manner, which is disgusting in any class, but eminently so when joined to low breeding and ignorance. He had strode across the kitchen and slapped Oliver on the shoulder familiarly, before even old David, to whom the young man was as honoured and endeared as he could well be, could say one word of greeting. the sun had set. Then, as the woodland closed thickly 66 'Ay, man-thought you was out on the stray somewhere-as the adage says, 'when the cat's away the kitten plays.' "I scarcely know what you mean, Mr. Coggs," replied Oliver, with a cold reserve, that would have set easy on a man of the highest breeding; "but my trade takes me from home sometimes, as well as my neighbours. As "There, there, my good fellow," interrupted the teaman, " don't perform the part of gentleman-artisan, as I am told you do. All I had to say is, that old John Newport has been making a jolly day of it; that's all." "It cannot be," replied Oliver, "for I left him at four o'clock this morning, already at work, and with a hard day's work before him; and as for means "Pooh," laughed Coggs; "now you're paymaster Entering through a sort of half-brewhouse, half-dairy, common to homesteads of this character, Oliver found himself in a large, old-fashioned kitchen, quaintly fur-folks in Lichfield will trust; but he had'nt gone on the nished, and lighted by a bright wood fire, which burnt cheerfully upon a raised hearth within the wide chimney. Beside this sat an old woman, watching a skillet of milk set there to boil, but who, hearing and recognising the footstep, turned kindly round to welcome the young man. I'm glad to see thee, Oliver," she said, "and so will the squire, for he sent word down by Mr. Maskell this very morning, that most likely my old David would have to ride over to Lichfield for thee. So come sit thee down, thee look'st tired, and must have a cup of ale, till David be in from the wood, when we'll have supper." So speaking, the good dame set a quaint bee-hive-looking chair on the hearth opposite her own, welcomed the young man to take a seat therein, with an old-fashioned courtesy very pleasant to behold, and fetched the ale from a small cellar near at hand. As she gave him this, Oliver inquired about the squire, and when he might see him. "Why, you had best let him sup before I say you are here," replied cld Letty, "for you know you are a long stayer, Oliver, and Mr. Graydon hasn't been over well; but how should he, sitting up at nights as he does, now the great telescope is finished.” "Aye, it is a wonderful thing I hear, and making a great stir in this part of the country." 'Well, it brings many folks up and down to the tower, and keeps master and the old chaplain employed night and day, but for the rest Oliver, between you and me, no good can come o' peeping into hidden things in this way. What God lets us see with our eyes is well enough, but to go beyond that, is" The old servant concluded her remark no otherwise than by a shake of the head, more expressive, however, than a dozen words. Finding her guest offer no reply, she then rose, spread a fair damask cloth on a small tray, set on fresh gathered fruit, brown bread, and pouring the now boiled milk into a glass jug, took up this frugal meal, and bore it from the kitchen through a groined door, formed evidently in the thick wall of the tower, against which the rustic homestead leant. As soon as she returned, she said, "Mr. Graydon would soon have supped, and that Oliver might strength of that; those in the crowd I saw pushing him up the street said he had been selling a large book of plates, and so got drunk on the profits. But, of course, this is nothing to me; all I know is, that his family don't take like him, and that his sister-in-law, the verger's wife, is an uncommon nice woman, very affable, and so on; and as for the daughter, though she's but a lambkin yet, Lichfield don't show a prettier, though I say it; and as I shall by-and-by want a Mrs. Coggs, I shall, I dare say, give the old lady a pound of three-and-sixpenny black, by way of a beginning in that direction." All this was said with a jocose familiarity, meant to be as offensive as it was; for though Dolly could not yet be considered much beyond a child, and had never been more than as a sister in his thoughts, he liked too well the beautiful and trusting innocence of her nature, and owed too much to those of her name, not to be intensely chagrined at this familiarity in one, whose pretensions to respectability were chiefly founded on his having lately opened a small, showy shop, for the sale of tea, in a mean street of Lichfield. He subdued, however, his fierce, manly anger, and sitting down into the bee-hive chair, waited patiently the teaman's departure, which soon took place, when that personage found old David and his wife rather cool in their invitation regarding the supper set forth. So, after taking a glass of ale, and delivering a parcel of tea from his pack, he departed; not, however, without an immense flourish as to the hot supper which awaited him at a farm-house about a mile through the woodland, and a hint again to Oliver, that Mrs. Newport was his ally with respect to Dolly. All breathed more freely when they heard this man's retreating footsteps along the garden path. Supper was then begun, and soon finished as regarded Oliver, who rising whilst these good old folks yet lingered over their peaceful meal, crossed, and left the kitchen by the thick door already mentioned; and closing it behind him, stood for a few moments in the quaint old circular chamber into which it opened, as if like one touching the holy veil of a temple, he would fain, before he uplifted it, bring forth from his heart, and place upon its front all that was best, severest, and most manly in his nature. Then he went gently onward, with a reverence that every step implied, up a few broad oaken stairs which spread themselves far out into the chamber, and by these which bent through the wall of the tower into a part of the homestead, and in again by a doorway, he stood, after passing this, and closing it behing him, and ascending a further step or two, with a heavy oaken balustrade on either side, in a room well dedicated to the purposes of sublime and ennobling science. It was circular, and cased with fretted stonework; and at even distances in the half circle looking towards the valley, were set tall windows quaintly ribbed with stone, and through which now fell the silver flooding glory of the early moon, in such descending volume, as to dim the single lamp, which stood lighted upon a large table in the middle of the room, covered with books, papers, and astronomical instruments. Another broad staircase of a few wide richly-carpeted steps, placed at right angles with the other, led up through the roof on to the observatory above, and on these the moon itself shimmered with placid grandeur. Curtains of black cloth, though nearly all undrawn, swept downward in vast volume, presses of books rested in groined niches, tables of all shapes and sizes stood about, densely covered as the one in the centre of the room; and whilst the knotted oaken floor was partly carpeted, one wide old leather-covered couch stood rereward in the shadows. From the ceiling descended various astronomical instruments connected with the observatory above. At this centre table, sat a man past middle life, who, hearing the closing door, and the ascending footsteps, looked up from the writing which occupied him, and turned a face of singular benignity, yet ascetic aspect towards the stairhead, where Thornway stood for the moment hesitatingly. "Well, Oliver," he said, in a voice, and with a manner of such kindly welcome, as to bring in an instant the artisan to his side; "I am glad to see you. I fancied you were here by Letty's anxiety that I should not linger over my supper. You are a favourite with my good old servants, who are otherwise tenacious of visitors." "You must at least pardon this intrusion now, Sir," replied Oliver," for the hour is late, and much beyond that in which I have been used to see you; but the truth is, Mr. Graydon, that the fame of your great telescope, and its splendid speculum has reached us in Lichfield, and I am here to night to ask a new view of that which a year since opened up, as it were, to me new regions of originality in art. I want to model a Bronze Inkstand, and in the Bell-shaped Nebula I fancy I shall see the form I need." "Well, Oliver, in so doing you will strike into a path where sublime and creative truth will rise up before you at every step; for though I am a verifier rather than an inductionist, though I seek to discover in the abstract laws of astronomy scientific truths that may serve the processes more immediately relative to the moral and physical condition of humanity, still, as I have always said, that when they shall be guided by the severe prose of nature, not only art, but also government, morals, politics, and religion, will surely produce their largest, and as yet unexpected effects. I am glad you are come; for I was desirous of assuring you of my friendly thoughts, though so much occupied of late by the usual yearly visit of my brothers, and this great alteration, or rather addition to my small observatory. But you look ill and labour-worn; how is this?" As he spoke, Mr. Graydon took up the lamp before him and held it for an instant near Oliver's face. "Why, I have walked far to-day, Sir; and I have of late had many anxieties respecting my old master." "Certainly, Thornway, it is to be lamented that you are so bound; though no one more than myself can ad mire the zeal with which you stand by the fortunes of so true a friend as old John Newport has been, and who by his often-repeated words made us acquainted. Now, as it will be yet some hours before the heavens can be effec tively swept with the great telescope, go rest on the couch, and I will call you at the needed time. At pre sent I have an hour or two's work to do, which cannot be omitted." Mr. Graydon said no more, but resumed his pen, whilst Oliver going to the couch lay down, and though much and deeply interested in the scene around, he was too exhausted to refrain long from the sleep which came over him, and which lasted till midnight. He was then awakened by the same kind friend, and led up to the tower-roof on which were fixed the several telescopes. It was now deeply shadowed for the moon was hidden, the heavens partly veiled in darkness, and the wide valley and the deep woodlands below lay yet with the deep hush of night upon them. Almost without a word, other than a few astronomical directions, this rare cultivator of science placed Oliver before the great telescope; and here, guided by the directions given, that which was thus so ardently sought was found, only in a condition so immeasurably more grand and wonderful than as seen by him before, as at the first glance to send back his heart's blood to its source, and after this to fill his whole being with that intense reverence whose very speechlessness is prayer; for what the smaller speculum of a smaller telescope had shown as mere vapoury light, now through higher means accorded to vision, resolved itself into a system of countless worlds, hung shaped a mighty bell of giant mould, as if to ring out to the immeasurable universe, that God is omniscient and all loving, and man's destiny sublime. The artisan turned-but it was to go, in silence, as it seemed, till stayed by the astronomer's hand. "Pardon me, sir," spoke Oliver, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, "let me go now, and in silence, for my spirit has an inspiration on it which it must obey. Out of the one form is growing the needed form, and, therefore, let me go, before the impulse that is on me disappears. My lonely, homeward path is what I now desire." He said this with the utmost respect, and then passed down the observatory stairs without another word, or without surprising the friend, who had done so much to raise him to his present intellectual condition. But Mr. Graydon watched him with breathless interest from where he stood, with dimmer and dimmer powers of vision, into the gloomy woodlands; for his own studies, and high capacity, made him comprehend, in a degree, the inten sified joy which belongs to genius in its creative moments, For mere sense has no joy like it; earth can gift with no delight that bears comparison; wealth can bestow nothing in equality. No! genius, abstractedly, is a united power of love and beneficence, giving and blessing; and is therefore sovereign and supreme, because characteristic of Deity. FABLES, FROM THE HEBREW. THE GARLAND OF ROSES. Early one morning, a maiden went into a garden to gather a garland of roses. They stood there, mere buds, though more or less opened. "I will not pluck you yet," said the girl. "The sun shall open you first, that you may be more beautiful, and your scent stronger." She returned at noon-day, and found the loveliest roses gnawed by a worm, and bending before the scorching rays of the sun, withered and dead. The young girl wept for her folly; and the following morning she gathered her garland early. THE AFRICAN KING. Alexander, of Macedonia, came one day to a distant province of Africa, rich in gold. The inhabitants went to meet him, carrying baskets full of apples of gold and fruits. "Do you eat these fruits?" said Alexander; "I am not come to view your riches, but to learn your customs." So they led him to the market where their king gave judgment. Just then a citizen stepped forth and said: "O King! I bought of this man a sack full of chaff, and have found in it a considerable treasure. The chaff is mine, but not the gold, and this man will not take it back. Speak to him, O King, for it is his." His adversary, also a citizen of the place, answered: "Thou art afraid lest thou shouldst retain something wrong, and shall I not fear to take it from thee? I sold thee this sack, including all that it contains; keep thine own. Speak to him to this effect, O King!" The King asked the first if he had a son? He answered, "Yes." He asked the other if he had a daughter, and he also answered "Yes." "Friends," said the King, "you are both honest people, unite your children to each other, and give them the newly-found treasure for a marriage dower. That is my decision." By Alexander was astonished when he heard this sentence. "Have I judged unrighteously," said the King of the distant land, "that thou art thus astonished?" no means," answered Alexander, "but in our country it would have been otherwise." "And how?" inquired the African monarch. "The disputants," replied Alexander, "would have lost their heads, and the treasure would have come into the hands of the King." The King smote his hands together, and said, "Does the sun shine with you, and does Heaven drop rain upon you?" Alexander answered "Yes." "Then must it be," he pursued, "on account of the innocent animals that dwell in your land; for over such men ought no sun to shine, no Heaven to rain." ALL FOR THE BEST. A devout philosopher came to a town whose gates were closed. Hungry and thirsty, he was obliged to pass the night in the open air. He said "What God sends is good," and laid himself down. Near him stood his ass, at his side a burning lantern, on account of the insecurity of the country. But a storm arose and extinguished his light, a lion came and devoured his ass. He awoke, found himself alone, and said, "What God sends, is good," and waited quietly for the dawn of day. When he came to the gates, he found them open, the town devastated, robbed, and plundered. A gang of robbers had invaded it during the night, and had killed or taken the inhabitants away prisoners. He was spared. "Said I not," exclaimed he, "that all that God sends is good. Only generally it is not until the morning that we see why he denied us something in the evening.' THE YOUNG SOLOMON. One day, a good King said to his favourite, "Ask from me what thou wilt, it shall be given unto thee." And the youth said to himself" What shall I ask, that I may not repent of my wish? Honour and reputation I have already; gold and silver are the most treacherous gifts of earth. I will ask for the King's daughter, for she loves me as I love her, and, with her, I receive all. I shall also gain the heart of my benefactor; for through this gift he becomes my father." The favourite petitioned, and his prayer was granted. THE ROSE AMONG THORNS. A pious man was one day pacing sorrowfully up and down his garden, and doubting the care of Providence. At length he stood transfixed before a rose-bush, and the Spirit of the Rose spoke to him thus:-" Do I not animate a beautiful plant; a cup of thanksgiving full of fragrance to the Lord, in the name of all flowers, and an offering of sweetest incense to Him? And where do you find me? Amongst thorns. But they do not sting me; they protect and give me sap. This thine enemies do for thee; and should not thy spirit be firmer than that of a frail flower?" Strengthened, the man went thence. His soul became a cup of thanksgiving for his enemies THE THREE FRIENDS. A man had three friends. Two of them he loved exceedingly; to the third he was indifferent, though he was the most sincere. One day, he was summoned before the justice for a matter of which he was innocent. "Who among you (said he) will go with me and witness for me?" The first of his friends excused himself immediately, on pretence of other business. The second aceompanied him to the door of the tribunal, but there he turned, and went back for fear of the judge. The third, upon whom he had least depended, went in, spoke for him, and witnessed his innocence so cheerfully, that the judge released him, and made him a present besides. Man has three friends in this world. How do they behave in the hour of death, when God summons him before the judgment seat? Gold, his best friend, leaves him first. His relations and friends accompany him to the brink of the grave, and return again to their houses. His good deeds alone accompany him to the throne of the Judge; they go before, speak for him, and find mercy and favour. TRUE AFFECTION. Love is the purification of the heart from self; it strengthens and ennobles the character, gives a higher motive and a nobler aim to every action of life, and makes both man and woman strong, noble, and courageous; and the power to love truly and devotedly is the noblest gift with which a human being can be endowed, but it is a sacred fire that must not be burnt to idols. No human being can bear the weight of an entire and undivided affection, without staggering under the burden. At first, this complete abandonment of yourself to your emotion may seem grand and devoted, but the object of it becomes weary; and, when the stimulation of vanity has ceased, you will be thrown back upon yourself, broken with disappointment, and humiliated to your very soul by finding that all your most precious things have ceased to be of any value. If you will examine thoroughly into your own heart, you will find that, bitter as this sounds, there is a There is idleness and reason; a fact is always true. weakness at the root of this apparent generosity. You are averse to the discipline of self-control, and no human being is, or ever can be, exonerated from this duty, imposed by nature herself. You expect another to sustain the full tide of your undisciplined energies-to guide you to that duty you refuse to do for yourself. Self-control, self-discipline, is the first law for both man and woman, from which no power can give a dispensation. Your present suffering arises mainly from having failed in this duty towards yourself. My dear child, it is only God himself who is entitled to say "Give me thy heart," and on him alone can we fling ourselves, with all our weakness and our dependence. It will require much more suffering before you can learn this. In the meanwhile you must rouse yourself from the vague dreams of emotion in which you have indulged. These dreams have been like the warm breath of Spring passing over your nature, fertilizing it, and awakening feelings and energies which were before dormant; but now you must work and not dream; and I tell you, for your comfort, that if you seek first your duties, and think of them, everything else that is good or needful for you will follow in good time. Begin to live worthily now, and do not wait to begin a new life until you shall have entered on your dreams of happiness; and recollect that you are unhappy and dissatisfied ecause you are living selfishly, and because you are not seeking to do the duties that are lying around you.Geraldine Jewsbury. OCTOBER. OCTOBER, a blithe and benevolent fellow, Is here with his tresses enwreathed with the vine; His goodness whose mandate can make or destroy For children are out on their devious ramble, (Sweet childhood! I cling to thy memories yet,) Who rifle the hazel-bough, halt by the bramble, And stain laughing lips with its fruitage of jet. How golden the garment of sunlight that covers Earth's manifold features of glory and grace! The solemn old woods, how they sadden! and slumber The cuckoo is gone, and the swallow prepareth To wing his broad passage to far distant bowers; Some region of splendours and spices, that weareth The freshly-born beauties of bright summer hours. Now turn we our steps, for the lusty sun lieth, O'erhung with his banners of flame, in the west; The rook to his cloud-gazing citadel flieth, The hind to his homestead, the steer to his rest. Let us feast upon nature, for silence and sadness Will fling their stern fetters about her, ere long; High thought! that the soul of our mould is immortal! JOHN CRITCHLEY PRINCE. DIAMOND DUST. INCONSISTENCY-the only thing in which men are consistent. As riches and favour forsake a man we discover him to be a fool; but nobody can find it out in his prosperity. MATRIMONY is a circus. Many noble creatures enter it, run round and round, and kick up a fine dust, but few get properly trained and broken to it. PEOPLE often think themselves above things which in reality are above them. SECRET kindnesses done to mankind are as beautiful as secret injuries are detestable. To be invisibly good is as godlike as to be invisibly evil is diabolical. HYPOCHONDRIA-the imaginary malady with which those are taxed who have no real one. WHEN Once the forms of civility are violated, there remains little hope of return to kindness or decency. To some men it is indispensable to be worth money, for without it they would be worth nothing. THE proportion of will and power is not always reciprocal. A copious measure of will is sometimes assigned to ordinary and contracted minds; whilst the greatest faculties as frequently evaporate in indolence and languor. ADROIT observers will find that some who affect to dislike flattery may yet be flattered indirectly, by a well seasoned abuse and ridicule of their rivals. A WICKED book is the worse because it cannot repent. FAME is an undertaker that pays but little attention to the living, but bedizens the dead, furnishes out their funerals, and follows them to the grave. SATIRE should not be like a saw, but a sword; it should cut, not mangle. SENSIBILITY Would be a good portress, if she had but one hand; with her right she opens the door to pleasure, but with her left to pain. To know exactly how much mischief may be ventured upon with impunity is knowledge sufficient for a little great man. THE bee and the butterfly are both busy-bodies, but they are differently employed. FALSEHOOD is often rocked by truth, but she soon outgrows her cradle, and discards her nurse. LOGIC and metaphysics make use of more tools than all the rest of the sciences put together, and do the least work. SOCIETY, like a shaded silk, must be viewed in all situations, or its colours will deceive us. To speak only good of the dead is very often the stalking horse under cover of which to shoot at the living. It is good to respect ancient foundations, but we are not, on that account, to neglect founding something in our turn. VANITY, like laudanum and other poisonous medicines, is beneficial in small, though injurious in large, quantities. The Re-Issue of the Complete Torks of Eliza Cook, Commenced in this Number, will be continued weekly until completed. ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL has not yet reached many remote parts of Great Britain, and the Re-Issue announced above affords a good opportunity for Subscribers to recommend their Friends to take in the Work. They will thus obtain, at a very small cost, the whole of the Poems written before the JOURNAL commenced, besides much other instructive and amusing matter. HE that thinks himself poor, because his neighbour is richer; he that, like Cæsar, would rather be the first man of a village, than the second in the capital of the world; has apparently kindled in himself desires which he Printed and Published for the Proprietor, by Joux OWEN CLARKE, (of No 8, never received from nature, and acts upon principles ostablished only by the authority of custom. Canonbury Villas, in the Parish of St. Mary, Islington, in the County of Middlesex) at his Printing Office, No. 3, Kaquet Court, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London, Saturday, November 2, 1550. LEIGH HUNT. WHAT reader of books is there who does not feel that he owes a deep debt of gratitude to Leigh Hunt, for his many beautiful thoughts, his always cheerful views of life, his loving kindness towards his brother-men, and his generous efforts, now extending over a period of nearly fifty years, on behalf of the freedom and happiness of the great human family? His name is associated in our minds with all manner of kindness, love, beauty, and gentleness. His delicious essays are full of poetry, and the true spirit of joy. Through them, we learn to look tenderly in the face of all living things, and to love them as he himself does. He gives us a fresh insight into nature, makes the flowers gayer, the earth greener, the skies more bright, and all things more full of happiness and blessing. By the magical touch of his pen, he "kisses dead things to life." And, though age has come upon him, and his locks are silver-grey, his heart is still as soft, and his love as warm as ever. He is one of those happy natures which never grow old. He has been spoken of as a "greyhaired boy"-" the old-young poet, grey hairs on his head, but youth in his eyes,"-and the perusal of his last work, his fascinating "Autobiography," more than confirms this characterization. Leigh Hunt's temperament, doubtless, owes something to the warm, sunshiny clime in which his progenitors lived, that of Barbadoes, in the West Indies. His grandfather was a clergyman there, and his grandmother an O'Brien, very proud of her alleged descent from certain mythical Irish kings of that name. Their son (Leigh Hunt's father) was sent to Philadelphia, then belonging to the English American colonies, to be educated; and there he married and settled. But the war of the American Revolution, or "Rebellion," as it was then called, broke out, when he entered warmly into the cause of the British government, for which he was mobbed, narrowly escaped tarring and feathering, and ultimately fled to England, his wife and little family following him. He was ordained as a clergyman by the Bishop of London, and became famous as a preacher of charity sermons. He was fond, however, of pleasurable living; drank more than was good for him; got into pecuniary difficulties, from which he never escaped; and lived a life of shifts and expedients, always trusting, like Mr. Micawber, to "something turning up." He found a brief friend in the Marquis of Chandos, and was engaged by him as tutor for his nephew, Mr. Leigh, after whom Leigh Hunt was afterwards named. To be tutor in a duke's family is often a sure road to a bishopric, or some other high promotion in the church: but the tutor in this case had no such good fortune: his West Indian temperament spoiled all: he had ceased to think the British Government perfect, and he did not [PRICE 11d hesitate to express his opinions pretty freely. So, after leaving this situation, he lapsed again into difficulties, and afterwards into distress and debt. Still his happy and joyous nature bore him up, even though he was haunted by duns, and became familiar with prisons. "Such an art had he," says his son, "of making his home comfortable when he chose, and of settling himself to the most tranquil pleasures, that, if she could have ceased to look forward about her children, I believe, with all his faults, those evenings would have brought unmingled satisfaction to her, when, after settling the little apartment, brightening the fire, and bringing out the coffee, my mother knew that her husband was going to read Saurin or Barrow to her, with his fine voice, and unequi. vocal enjoyment." Leigh Hunt's mother, of whom he speaks in a strain of great tenderness,-was of American birth, a Philadelphian; she had "no accomplishments but the two best of all, a love of nature and a love of books." She was a woman of great energy of principle, though timid and gentle almost to excess. Her husband's great dangers at Philadelphia, and the imminent risk of shipwreck which she, with her family, ran on the voyage to England, had shaken her soul as well as frame. Her son says:-"The sight of two men fighting in the streets would drive her in tears down another road; and I remember, when we lived near the Park, she would take me a long circuit out of the way, rather than hazard the spectacle of the soldiers. Little did she think of the timidity with which she was thus inoculating me, and what difficulty I should have, when I went to school, to sustain all those pure theories, and that unbending resistance to oppression, which she inculcated. However, perhaps it ultimately turned out for the best. One must feel more than usual for the sore places of humanity, even to fight properly in their behalf. . . . . One holiday, in a severe winter, as she was taking me home, she was petitioned for charity by a woman, sick and ill-clothed. It was in Blackfriars Road, I think, about midway. My mother, with the tears in her eyes, turned up a gateway, or some such place, and beckoning the woman to follow, took off her flannel petticoat and gave it to her. It is supposed, that a cold which ensued fixed the rheumatism upon her for life. Her greatest pleasure, during her decay, was to lie on a sofa, looking at the setting sun. She used to liken it to the door of heaven; and fancy her lost children there waiting for her." As a man is but his parents, or some other of his ancestors, drawn out, so Leigh Hunt, in his own life and history, was but a repetition of his father and mother, and an embodiment of their character in about equal proportions; inheriting from the one a joyous and happy temperament, and from the other tenderness, high principle, and a deep love of nature and books. Leigh Hunt was born at Southgate, in the parish of |