Shakspearian, so might his style be well called Talent will always find its proper time and me- self among their contributors. There can, I Horatian, this raised and established the credit of dium for hanifesting itself; and I am inclined to think, be little doubt, therefore, that the higher the paper among men of letters, and those of the believe, that no young writer was ever benefited efforts of genius are neither called forth by, nor most fastidious taste; and The Spectator' con- by being flattered with a corner in some periodical are likely to grace, this species of literature, howsequently became a model for all similar works for an essay, or a copy of crude verses. He ever flourishing may be its condition in regard to in that and the succeeding period. That publi- who is obliged to work in retirement till he popularity,—at least in England, where its characcations of this sort, destined to catch every effer- has gained a maturity of talent, will be ever ter must ever be essentially popular, and where vescence of social feeling, to pourtray character stronger than one who has been half told that he the spirit of popular thinking and feeling is essenso that we may anatomize its nicest fibres, and is already fitted to come forth. I will venture to tially opposite in its dispositions to an earnest to be, as it were, the day-book and register, be- suggest another, and, I am inclined to believe, a and sedate, or very elevated mood. In Germany, tween good sense and honesty on the one side, much better, argument, of the same kind, for I believe, this is not the case; but there, perioand fashionable folly or prurient hypocrisy on the utility of periodicals; and it is, that a very dical works are addressed to a people very differthe other, that publications of this sort must be considerable portion of readers receive the in-ently constituted in their intellectual character, not only useful, but afford a very amusing and structions, or enjoy the productions of writers and prepared in a variety of ways for the recepcharming species of reading, will not be readily of the most distinguished talents, with whose tion of such compositions. In a word, they are denied; and we may recur to the examples we opinions or genius they could in no other way less pleased with mere novelty than we are, and have mentioned, and to the effect which there is become acquainted. Such authors might, indeed, are more inclined than we to delight in the freer.. every reason to believe they had on the manners publish works on the subjects which engage their workings of the imagination; two circumstances of their times, as affording the best arguments that attention; but the composition of one or two of which very materially conduce to their popular can be brought in favour of the general utility these would employ them their lives, and it literature taking a higher tone than ours. When, and importance of periodical literature. But would be but comparatively a few who could however, we come to consider the lower classes this character, which originally belonged to the reap any good from their labours. But, as it is, of composition which belong to the branch of which species of publication we are considering, became they have a medium always at hand for the trans- we are now speaking, we find the case different; greatly modified and changed in subsequent mission of their sentiments; they utter them and that our periodicals have been greatly inperiods; and our opinion of it, therefore, must whenever any occasion calls for them, and thou- fluential in keeping up and diffusing a taste for be, in some respects, different. Since the time sands are at once put in possession of the treasures some very elegant pieces of writing, which would of 'The Tatler' and 'The Spectator,' and the other of their minds. Another good, also resulting scarcely have existed without them, or found a works which were formed on the same plan, and from the extension and improvement of perio- medium of circulation. Of the light and graceful in a great degree imitated them in style and con- dical literature, is, that, on the one hand, it affords poetry, which fascinates us either by the eletents, periodical literature has, indeed, undergone employment to the public mind, and favours its gance of its diction, or the beauty and tenderness an entire revolution. The admirable works of tendencies to the pursuit of science and intel- of its sentiments, many very admirable specimens which we have been speaking, gave rise to others, lectual improvement; and, on the other, that it may be found in the different periodicals of the day; which gradually degenerated into mere collec- gives a more general and freer spirit to literature and, though the poetry of Magazines was once tions of love tales, wretched scraps of poetry, itself than it would otherwise have, by bringing considered as proverbially bad, and we might, pretended court-scandal, and supposed letters of together the productions of every class of mind, even yet, find some most ludicrous examples of persons of quality. Of such a class were the displaying the main points of consideration in its badness in publications at present in fashion, multifarious Ladies' Magazines' and 'Fashionable almost every question that can be started, open-yet when I recall to your mind some occasional Repositories,' at the contents of which we are now ing the door to every inquirer whose talents cn- pieces in The New Monthly,' the poetry of so apt to stare with wonder, but which, a century, title him to respect, and, in addition to this, offer-L. E. L. in The Literary Gazette,' that of Delta or even half a century, back, formed the belles ing something, which, even in its lightness is ele- in Blackwood; and, more especially, the surlettres of the reading public. I need hardly ob- gant, for those, who, were it not for the resources passingly beautiful compositions of Mrs. Hemans, serve, that, when periodical literature is in this it affords, would live in a state of perfect intel- which have appeared in more than one work of the state, it is very far below the point at which any lectual sloth. These are great advantages, and kind, I think it can hardly be doubted, that periodisort of literature is worthy of notice. From this they all belong to periodical literature when pro- cal literature has been favourable to the cultivation condition, however, it was gradually raised, and perly conducted. How far they are offered by of the lighter species of poetry, and in diffusing a such works as 'The Gentleman's Magazine,' and, the different publications known among us, will taste for it among readers generally. For it is to be among those of a much lighter and more miscel- come under consideration in a subsequent Lecture; remarked, that all the writers I have mentioned, laneous character, The European,' were started; and we have now to consider the second part of have not only originally appeared before the puband a new strength and vigour were given to the the subject immediately before us; that is, the lic in the pages of a Periodical, but have risen to languid spirit of the periodical press. Still, how-relation of periodical literature to the three great eminence through that medium, and continued ever, it could hardly be considered of any public to make use of it for the display of their matured consequence; and it was not till The Edinburgh powers. But I must now pass from this to another Review' was commenced, which was speedily fol It must be at once evident, that there species of writing, which has almost originated lowed by others of the same bold and lofty charac- some species of knowledge, or subjects in Periodicals; I mean that description of essay, ter, that it could be regarded as having a real and of literary interest, which are infinitely better which, sometimes taking its subjects from some national existence. The talent, the tone of adapted to appear through the rapidly changing passing events in life, dresses up the figures of strong political feeling, the new views taken in mediums of periodical works than others. We the drama after some inwardly conceived model; criticism, the vigour of some articles and the have spoken of the literature which belongs to at others, soaring a little above the surface, elegance of others, which distinguished these the imagination, which has also been viewed un- shows us mankind refined from their worldliness, periodicals of the new school, soon rendered der the several heads of poetry and general and adorned with the writer's own rich fancies; the kind of literature to which they belonged works of fiction. Now, it is certain, that or which draws a picture that is, when we popular throughout the kingdom, gave it an au- we are not to look to periodical literature as first look at it, only striking for its broad lights thority which it had not till then possessed, and likely to afford encouragement to any of the and shades, but in which we afterwards find a established it as the judge of public policy and higher exercises of the imagination; for, first, score of individual likenesses, or groups, that literary talent. The circumstances which have the productions that spring from these efforts of answer to the groupings in the wide and busy gradually called the mind of the nation into elevated intellect are of a character not adapt- world. Of these, I may mention, as not being action, which have made it eager after novelty ed to the nature of such works, inasmuch as surpassed either for beauty of expression, or exand employment, and turned all men into readers neither the stern magnificence, nor solemn beauty, quisite tenderness of sentiment, the Papers which and inquirers, have since given birth to publi- of poetry of this class, is relished or understood have appeared in 'Blackwood's Magazine,' by Procations of a more general character than those by even a small proportion of the readers fessor Wilson, whose power of blending all the sweet we have just mentioned, and produced the perio- of periodicals. In the next place, writers of and mellow voices of nature, all the silver chimings dical literature of the present day. That, under this class, as they soar higher in their concep- of spheres and elements, with the deep and fervent the form and circumstances in which it now ap- tions, so are they also of spirits too retired and breathings of the human heart has been hitherto pears, it exercises a considerable influence, there lofty to willingly mix themselves up with the busy unrivalled. In the same Magazine, there are also can be little doubt; and there can be as little, that but less pure and noble intellects, that can more several articles, of great sweetness and natural it might be made to exercise that influence to the easily bend to popular caprice, and speak a lan- pathos, by Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd. Some most beneficial purposes. For it must always be guage more comprehensible by the ordinary papers of great merit, though of a somewhat of use to possess land-marks in that wide stream class of readers. Had Milton, or any of different cast, as to the style and materials, of thought and opinion on which we are con- the greater Greek poets, lived in our times, have likewise appeared in 'The New Monthly. tinually borne along, and there are no better I do not conceive that the appearance of the I may mention, as an example, one entitled land-marks than the great and popular periodi- sublimest passages of their works, in The Wesley and his Disciple,' which appeared cals of the day. It has also been said to be of New Monthly,' or 'Blackwood's Magazine,' would some little time ago, and was written by the important use, in its being the vehicle in which have added fifty subscribers to either of them, and author of the very interesting Letters from the aspiring talent first ventures itself. But I think I am more than certain, that the lonely and in- East,' which appeared in same Periodical, this is giving it a merit not belonging to it.spired old man would never have reckoned him- I have but to mention o, ore example of this branches into which we have divided literature in are species of writing, which is really an ornament to the Magazines of the present day, and which is, perhaps, as excellent in its kind as the most fastidious critic could desire. The example I am now adducing, in illustration of these remarks, are some essays, if so they may be called, whose matter has been collected by an eye as keenly sensible to every little feature in our English landscapes, and by a heart as open to all the plain and honest good nature of our village peasantry, as the eye and heart of either Wilson or the Ettrick Shepherd to the more romantic beauties of Scottish scenery and manners. I mean some papers which have appeared at different times in the old Monthly Magazine,' and which are, I believe I may safely say, by the authoress of Our Village,' Miss Mitford. They are signed with her initials; but any reader in the slightest degree acquainted with the exquisite freshness of style and thought which distinguishes all the compositions, both prose and poetry, of that lady, will find no difficulty in at once assigning them to her pen. I need, perhaps, scarcely observe, after adducing these instances, that I think the increase and prosperity of periodical literature have been greatly conducive to the formation of this lower but yet most elegant species of imaginative composition, and that I consider it to be one of the most distinguished and favourable characteristics of the publications we are considering. It has also had a good effect on the public taste. The habits of the popular mind in England are not, as we have said, propitious to the higher exercises of imaginative power, but they are favourable to the development of the home sympathies of the heart, of the deep and glad feelings that are woven in with the love of our father-land, and the exhilarating sense of our dwelling being among those of our brethren and the sketches of which we have been speaking, have fed and nourished these kindly feelings of our English nature; they have led us among the lone romantic streams, taught us the very language of the wild woods and glens, and the religion of the devout-hearted people of the sister country. They have brought, too, before the eyes of our city or fashion-jaded countrymen, pictures of our own manners in their least sophisticated forms; and have increased our store of pleasant memories, our materials for quiet fire-side reveries, our fairy pictures and tablets of sweet human forms and gentle human intercourses; and have thus afforded a sort of leaven to the harsher materials, of which public thought is composed, and softened the asperities of other and more worldly lucubrations. We have now to make a few observations on the relation of periodical literature to the second great division of general literature; that is, to such as treat of, or belong to, the science of morals. Of that part of the inquiry which would lead me to speak of the higher departments of moral science, or rather of that which belongs to religion, I shall dispose in a few words. If we are guided at all by the periodical publications which are professedly of a theological nature, and which are, at present, most widely circulated among the religious public, I should say that we have sufficient proof of the little fitness there is in such a medium for the conveyance of the truths with which religion is concerned. The Magazines of this class with which I am acquainted, are, for the most part, filled with disquisitions on particular points of doctrine, with the inquiries of the ill-informed, and answers to their queries by writers knowing as little of the subject: and the only use which these periodicals appear to be of to religious readers, is the information they contain on public matters connected with the interests of religion, which has, of course, nothing to do with their moral usefulness. In this, I think, they are, and as mere Magazines ever will be, of most questionable importance; for the only source of variety to them-the discussion of the merits of a presenontroversy, or the starting of new opinions or de', I have now briefly considered the nature of periodical literature, and its relation to the three great branches of general literature. Some portions of the latter part of the subject I shall more fully consider when I come to examine the present character of our principal Periodicals. I must, however, observe, in conclusion, that the closer I survey the size and extent of the mighty machine thus set up among us, and which has some hold or other on every part and portion of society, I cannot but be surprised at the few important purposes to which it is made effectively useful, the ignoble services to which it is too often applied, its subjection to the narrow-minded policy of avarice, its frequent subversion into the tool of a party-its more frequent employment as the play-thing of idlers, or the hiding-place of sensualists. is by no means one uniformly safe to draw from: I its progress should be generally known; that, as There is occasionally in the New Monthly' a character, or a satirical essay, and the same may be said of one or two other Magazines, but they are, in general, too full of point, or too highly touched, to be good in their kind. They want the ease, the natural playfulness, the lively gentlemanly humour of the older essays; and we can hardly help thinking, while reading them, that the writers of the former, saw and described the accidental circumstances, or common scenes, of their every day's experience, while the latter dressed themselves for a visit, or prepared themselves with note-books, like reporters. It is also worthy of observation, that the material of the carlier compositions was drawn from the busy scene of life as it is before us every hour, and from the study of mankind, in their ordinary and domestic relations and habits; while that of the later ones is made up of sickening portraitures or sketches of public personages and scenes, which, even when done in the best possible manner, are of little use when coming from anonymous writers, of whose veracity or good taste we can form no judgment. The moral importance, or the direct moral character, of our periodical literature at present is, therefore, to be rated exceedingly low; and it is only in an indirect manner that its extensive popularity is made subservient to beneficial purposes. That it is of important use there can be little doubt; but it is so only by keeping the intellect in constant activity, prompting the spirit of inquiry, or softening, as in the instances I have alluded to, by some of its imaginative portions, the busy, earthly, and turbulent character of the times. In considering the use of that branch of periodical literature which belongs to science, we need but observe, that, as science is every day prod by the correspondents-gressing, so it must always be of importance that TALES AND LEGENDS. Tales and Legends. By the Authors of The Odd Volume.' 3 vols. Cadell. Edinburgh, 1828. A BAD title may be a temporary hindrance to the popularity of a good book; but a striking and inviting title to one, the contents of which are without interest, only serves to irritate the reader, and make his disappointment fall heavily on the author. This is, in a good measure, the case with the work before us. Tales and Legends' were words full of pleasant sound to our ears, and we took up the book in expectation of finding every page of it glowing with the emblazoning of rich and antique memorials. We thought of our early wanderings in fairy-land, of our Robinson Crusoe' solitudes and adventures, and then of the fair bright visions that had floated before us, and been mistaken for reality; and we expected to feel something, at least, of the charm of these earlier emotions, and had resigned ourselves into a humour, that a moderate share of romancewriting talent might have raised into the happiest of all moods. We have, however, been greatly disappointed; and, did we not remember that the authors of this work had imposed a debt of thanks upon us for a former pleasant and amusing production, we should be disposed to reprehend the faults of their present one with considerable sove rity. Tales and Legends' consists of ten or eleven stories; and we must, in justice, say, that, though the work in general is of very inferior merit, there are a great many different degrees of it in the several pieces of which it is made up. Those entitled to the most attention appear to be the smaller sketches which compose the second v lume, which display a good deal of humour, and, occasionally, a power of very happy description. With regard to the larger pieces, The Rescue," in the first volume, presents some vivid pictures, and, had the plot been better worked out, would have been really a very interesting story. The ground-work of this tale, which is said to be taken from the German of Döring, is the adventure of a smuggler in the Black Forest, whose brother is in love with the niece of an old merchant employed as a spy in France. The latter, being on his way homeward, is attacked by the smuggler's party, and an acquaintance is thus made between the old man and the brother of his niece's lover. An unfortunate enterprise exposes the smuggler to the pursuit of the Government officers, and he is obliged tal e -he route of his unwilling companion the spy. -The character of both the fugitives is disovered in their flight; and they are just on the -point of falling a sacrifice, to French vengeance, when a victory on the part of the Germans derivers them. The lover has, in the mean time, arrived from France, where he had been employed In an official capacity, and the story terminates with the marriage of him and the merchant's niece. The best passage in the tale, is the account of an adventure, in which the smuggler hoped to take advantage of the funeral of a Grand Marshal, to import a quantity of valuable goods. It is as follows: "Towards the evening of the same day, an unusual crowd from Kehl and Strasburg assembled upon the Bridge of the Rhine. Knights, soldiers, citizens, and persons of all ranks and denominations, thronged the extensive bridge, under which the majestic river rolled its foaming waves. This moving multitude appeared to be attracted to the same spot by some object of curiosity. All rushed to the German side of the bridge, where they remained assembled, and turned their anxious looks in the direction of Kehl, to watch the appearance of the long-expected funeral procession of the French Field-Marshal, who had fallen in one of the late battles, and whose body they were now carrying to France for interment in the family burying-ground. But when the good citizens of Strasburg, who had come out to meet the body of their late Field-Marshal, saw the domes of their gigantic Minsters sparkling in the golden rays of the setting sun, they thought it most prudent instantly to return home, lest, peradventure, they should find the gates of the fortress shut against them, and so be forced to seek a lodging by starlight without the walls. Twilight now gradually approached, and spread her dark mantle over the foaming waves and the peaceful land, and still no procession appeared. All was now quiet on the bridge-a few solitary loiterers alone remained, who had not yet lost hope of the appearance of the procession, and who had determined to show their respect to the deceased, by accompanying him part of the way to his last earthly home. The guard of honour, which, by order of the Commander, was stationed on the German side of the bridge, tired with the wearisome delay of the procession, laid ́aside their arms and assembled round the grey-bearded drummer, who had made a campaign in Egypt, and who, seated on a muffled drum, was relating wonderful things of the secrets of the Pyramids. The approach to the bridge, and the bridge itself, was illuminated on both sides by torches of pitch, whose lurid and flickering flames were reflected in the agitated waves which rolled beneath. ""As I was telling you," continued the talkative drummer," there are at least a thousand casks filled with gold Napoleons concealed in the catacombs of the Pyramids, just where the old Egyptian kings buried them, and which would be a glorious prize to him who is bold enough to search for them." he must have been of a most enormous corpulence, it is no wonder that the first cannon-ball found it easy to hit him-only look at the size of the bier, and how high the body seems to rise under the black pall. On my soul, one would think there were six Field-Marshals there in place of one." At this moment the leader of the procession dashed past at full gallop-the long plume of his hat waved gracefully in the light of the torches, a scornful smile passed over his countenance, and his expression of triumph and delight spoke of some enterprise successfully accomplished. He soon reached the soldiers, who, with their arms reversed, and in solemn silence, hastily followed the body. The procession had scarcely gained the middle of the bridge, when, to the amazement of the spectators, the officer, who now seemed in greater haste than ever, gave the horses a smart blow with the but-end of a carabine, which instantly set them off at a hard trot, while he himself followed at a rapid pace, that he might not let the precious corpse out of his sight. So soon as the procession and its leader had passed, the guard of honour at the entrance of the bridge dispersed, to make way for the douaniers, who generally were stationed there, but whose place, upon this particular occasion, was supplied by soldiers of the line." 'Suddenly the clash of arms was again heard, and a rushing sound as of approaching horsemen. The challenge of the sentinel was replied to in a loud, impatient, and eager voice; and an officer, whose richly embroidered uniform was covered with orders, rode up, with the speed of lightning, on a black charger, followed by two gendarmes. "What is that?" said the stranger, in a haughty and commanding tone to the officer on guard, "what is that dark moving mass upon the bridge?" 'The officer, drawing near, informed the inquirer that it was the body of the late Field Marshal, who was killed in the last battle, and which, under the command of the Adjutant Delolay, they were conducting to be interred in the burying-ground of the deceased. were already on the spot; the gendarmes, at full gallop, dispersed the people who were busied about the carriage; the douaniers stormed and threatened, while, from the other side of the bridge, to which the pursued had escaped, there issued a hollow murmur. "Is it even so?" muttered the captain of the smugglers, as he raised himself in the saddle, and beheld the dangerous situation in which he was placed. "And so the valuable goods will fall into the hands of the rascals after all? Nothing now remains but to give my friends the signal to the rescue. Cursed disaster! devilish accident! which has overturned so deeplaid a plan." At the same moment there was heard a peculiar whistle, which the douaniers immediately knew to be the smuggler's usual signal when forced to retreat, and which gave notice to his people, that their assistance was required to rescue him from some imminent danger. With the speed of lightning he instantly threw off his military hat and cloak, by which he might be recognised, and in the dress of a citizen, which he wore under his uniform, he dashed at full gallop among the astonished crowd, to gain a certain point of the bridge, where several boats lay unobserved, and where he knew he would instantly find a refuge. But while he was straining every nerve to reach his destination, the officer in the embroidered uniform sprung upon him, and stopped him in the way. ""Are you the scoundrel," he exclaimed, with irrepressible fury, "who presumes to pass himself off for the Adjutant Delolay? Instantly dismount, kneel in the dust; tremble, miserable cheat, I myself am Delolay!"-Vol. i. p. 254–262. ETYMOLOGICAL DICTIONARY. An Etymological Dictionary of the Latin Language, by the Rev. J. E. J. Valpy, A.M. 8vo. Valpy. London, 1828. ETYMOLOGY is one of the sciences whose im"The Devil!" said the officer, unsheathing his portance is more generally allowed than practisword, "this is some infamous deception-the pro- cally understood. The use which may be made cession follows me-I am the Adjutant Delolay!" of it in elucidation of historical difficulties, the And with these words he struck the spurs deep in his clue which it frequently affords to the darkest horse's sides, and flew, followed by his attendants, af-windings of ancient tradition, the light it throws ter the procession. 'The douaniers at once perceived the cheat that had been practised upon them, and that by this contrivance a rich booty had escaped their harpy claws. "This is a trick of the smugglers," they exclaimed, as they rushed upon the bridge after the gendarmes. "Sacre nom!" exclaimed the veteran of Egypt, "did I not tell you that they knew not how to show funeral honours to a Marshal of the great army? Now, you see I am right, they are no soldiers, but rogues; and the pretended Marshal turns out to be neither more nor less than a bale of tobacco." 'All laughed, but the officer commanded silence, as he did not think it consistent with his dignity to take part in the concerns of the douaniers; however, he thought it as well, under the present circumstances, to remain at his post, and there await the termination of the affair. Whilst this took place on the bank, the procession on the bridge continued its way as quickly as possible; but it was still a considerable distance from the opposite side, when the hollow echoing gallop of approaching horsemen and the shouts of the enraged douaniers "This speech was suddenly interrupted by a call of the sentinels, and the clash of arms, which announced the approach of the procession with the body of the Field-Marshal. The command was given; in a moment the guard stood under arms; and the hollow sound of the veteran's drum now rolled as incessantly as his reached the ears of its conductor. "Confound it!" tongue had done a short time before in recounting his said he, to himself, with suppressed rage, "6 to be so often-repeated adventures. The funeral procession, near the harbour, and yet to be shipwrecked." which was now so near as to be distinctly seen by the He now endeavoured to beat the horses into a trot; light of the torches, did not advance at that slow and but all his exertions to force them to accelerate their dignified pace which the solemnity of the occasion de-speed proved fruitless. The officer now approached at manded; but, to the astonishment of the spectators, approached with extraordinary rapidity. An officer rode before, who, with his hat pulled over his face, galloped up to the captain of the guard, and, after a few words, presented his passport, the tenor of which was, that he, Adjutant Delolay, was ordered to accompany the body of the deceased Marshal to his family burying ground, and to pay him the last military honours. After this conference, on a sign from the officer on guard, the drums were silenced, and without even waiting for the salute of honour, the procession hurried forward. "This is not the way to treat a French Marshal, at least if they mean to pay him military honours," muttered the old drummer to his comrade; "it would break the hero's heart were he to see what pains they take to get the business over as quickly as possible! Sacre nom de Dieu-I knew him well; I have beat my drum by his side at Austerlitz and Eylau." "It may be so," interrupted his companion; " but full gallop, followed by the gendarmes, and a crowd of furious douaniers; and the leader of the mock procession now saw that his well-concerted enterprise had failed, and that it was time for him to think of his own safety. "All is lost!" he exclaimed to his companions; "but the blood-hounds shall not be benefited by it, and their noses shall in vain try to discover the scent. Cut the traces," he exclaimed, " and throw the carriage, with all its contents, into the stream; and," he continued, with a scornful laugh, "let the fishes feast on the corpulent body of his Excellency the Field-Marshal!" "The good people who followed the spectacle along the banks of the river, were lost in amazement at this extraordinary order, which was instantly obeyed. The horses, freed from their traces, rushed at full speed to the opposite bank. Every exertion was made to push the heavily laden carriage to the edge of the bridge, in order to throw it over into the river; but the pursuers upon many points of moral science, in its conkind, and its paramount utility to the scholar in nection with the different circumstances of manevery branch of critical science; these several important uses of etymology are less distinctly understood than they ought to be, either by the persons pursuing those branches of learning, in which a knowledge of it would be of the greatest benefit, or by those who are employed in teaching languages, whether ancient or modern. With respect, however, to many departments of learning, it is almost the first thing which should en gage attention; or, rather, it should be considered by them as the statuary, or the painter does the power of drawing an outline, and being able to use it as affording established principles to which he may safely refer. Both the philosophical historian and the critic are of this class; and, without possessing some skill and experience in this science of verbal analytics, they are frequently without the power of penetrating, where otherwise they would walk with ease, or of detecting truth when she lies concealed under the thinnest possible veil. The better the nature of language itself is understood, the more clearly the importance of the science of which we are speaking will be discerned; for when it is considered that a universal analogy is known to exist among languages, connecting, by a minute, but yet discernible thread, the dialects of the most remote countries and the most widely separated ages-it must be clearly seen that the mere discovery of this general analogy tends to prove a very remarkable fact respecting the original circumstances of mankind, and that, taking the knowledge of this curious agreement in the languages of the world for the foundation, we may proceed to inquire, with some hope of success, into the existence of a strong analogy in the primitive customs, habits of thinkThe closer this analogy can be traced, the more ing, and religious feelings of ancient nations. light will be thrown from one age and country to another, in illustration of their different histories; and the greater the certainty with which we can appeal to this analogy, or trace its variations in strength and continuity, the better able shall we be to estimate the value of theories, and conjecture on the history of different nations, and to point out the boundaries of probable conjecture and unsupported speculation. A circumstance also to be particularly pointed out in the mention of this subject is, that etymology furnishes the inquirer into ancient times with a very important addition to that species of evidence which may be most safely relied on, the incidental. Documents of every kind, whether strictly historical or only moral, are exposed to cavil and objection; but when proofs on any question can be. drawn from an examination into the structure of a language; when some particular idiom or certain remarkable words form the first link in a chain of argument, we have a species of evidence that lies as far beyond the reach of controversy as the manners of past times beyond control. It is true, the uses of such a science as etymology depend on a nicety of reasoning and patience of research possessed by no very large number of scholars, and that the illustrations to be drawn from it are of a kind, the value of which is not to be estimated by a careless observer; but when it is considered how many times the explanation of a difficult point in history, or of an obscurity in a writing, depends upon the slight and almost imperceptible minutiæ of circumstantial evidence, the utility of the inquiries instituted by the science will not be questioned, nor the importance of its consequences under-rated. It is a little to be regretted, therefore, that considerably less attention is paid to the elementary instruction of young classical scholars in the outlines of etymology, than is due to its importance. The immediate advantages of the study we have seen to be considerable, and there are others which, though less directly belonging to it, are of scarcely less value. Few branches of learning are more calculated to awaken the spirit of research in a young mind than this; for it appeals strongly to the curiosity in its most general propensity, and it offers a reward to diligence at once evident and attainable. added to a Greek word analogous words in other languages. He is aware that some learned men contend that the Latin is to be traced not to the Greek but to the Northern languages. Yet it is satisfactory to know, that the great German Etymologist, Wachter, though he refers his language, as much as was in his power, to a northern origin, is frequently obliged to abandon his attempts, and to leave German words with the Greeks and the Latins. With regard to the Cornish and Armoric languages, the learned Welsh linguist, Lhuyd, observes: "The Damnonian and other southern Britons, being on account of their situation earlier conquered, and consequently more conversant with the Romans than we of Wales, it is not to be admired if several Latin words occur in the Cornish and Armoric dialects not owned by us." Indeed, we may often detect Thus the Armoric Pirgrin and Relizhon must be corruptions of Peregrinus and Religionis, the Cornish Paun of Pavonis, and the German Ente of Anatis, and not vice versa. So the Northern Recht, Richt, Right, are from the Latin Rectus, and not vice versa. a derivation from the Latin from the nature of the word. Such words we have, as far as we have been able, traced on the one hand to the Northern, on the other to the Oriental languages. Not that these sources have been exhausted: much doubtless might have been added, but it is hoped that not a few valuable analogies have been here collected, and that, on the whole, the claims of the Northern and Eastern languages have received a patient and an attentive hearing. 66 'One word in regard to the Hebrew. Mr. Horne Tooke thus expresses his objection to the derivation of Latin from that language: "It is a most erroneous practice," he says, of the Latin Etymologists to fly to the Hebrew for whatever they cannot find in the Greek :-for the Romans were not a mixed colony of of the Latin language most plainly evinces." This Greeks and Jews, but of Greeks and Goths, as the whole seems a reasonable proposition; yet I have not omitted to indulge the fancy of those who are not persuaded by it. 'Mr. Tate is of opinion that the Latin language came in great measure from the Sanscrit. Dr. Jones, too, carries us to the Indians. The note on Latus, borne, supplies the reader with an instance of this kind. Barrus and other words will be found traced to an Indian source. Mr. Tate cites the following passage from Sir William Jones: "The first race of Persians and In 'Notwithstanding the analogy we have pointed out between the Latin and the Greek, so different are these languages, that, if we take at random a certain numbe. of Latin words, we shall find but few of them corre spond in sound to the Greek. A great reason is, that the Latins formed new words from those which they introduced from Greece. Thus Visio has no alliance in sound with "Os, nor Visum with "Opaua or báoua, nor Invideo with 0ovéw: and yet Visio Visum, Invideo, are all from the Greek Elow, througl the Latin Video. So the modern Greeks express a chair by Soon, a word which was unknown to their ances tors, but derived from Sów, Zwvvvji. Another rea son is, that the Latins derived their language from the Æolic tribes, which had words peculiar to themselves and unknown to the Ionic and Attic races. Lastly, de rivative languages apply words in a manner unknow to the early writers in the primary language. Thu. the French express the head by Tête, or as it was anciently Teste, formed from Testa, a shell, and so the shell of the head. "Mea testa," for " my head," would have been thought a singular expression by Cicero 'From the analogy which exists between the Lati and the Greek in words of the most common use, we may be disposed to give attention to some derivations which appear at first sight strained and unnatural. We shall allow something for changes which take place a the breaking up of an old language, and at the formaforced on a people by harmony of sound, and by a dif tion of a new one out of it-for changes which are ferent pronounciation of the same letters-for change too which must often depend on the mere whim an caprice of individuals. Forma was softer than Morfa and therefore took its place. Canis was pronounce for Cunis, and Calix for Culix, doubtless because they were softer to a Roman ear.'-Pref. pp. iv.-vii. his idea, that an etymologist ought to satisfy himWe do not, however, agree with Mr. Valpy in self with tracing a language to its immediate parent. This may be useful, as it respects the mere meaning of words, but it stops short of all th more important and interesting purposes of the study. It is of little use to trace a fountain from one ledge of rock to the other, if we have not Mr. Valpy, patience to follow it to its source. however, has only threatened to be thus deficient in his inquiries, and his work contains the result of We shall give a short specimen to show the truth his researches into many very various languages. of our remark, and the ingenuity displayed in the production. Rorarii, light-armed soldiers. "Fr. ros, roris Because these frequently preceded the regular troops as dew, or a dewy shower, frequently precedes rain." F Roratio, a blasting of vines by the fall of a col (roris) dew. ་ • Roro, 1 bedew. Fr. ros, roris. dians, to whom we may add the Romans and Greeks, the Goths, and the old Egyptians or Ethiops, originally Ros, roris, dew. Tears, which fall like dew. Fr spoke the same language. The Jews and Arabs, the poros, whence póros, pós. Or from póos, pous, Assyrians, or second Persian race, the people who spoke stream. [ Al. from πρώς, (ρώξ,) dew. Fr. ῥως 1. Syriac, and a numerous tribe of Abyssinians, used one ros, as perhaps Ad makes floS. ¶ Tooke: "Ro primitive dialect wholly distinct from it." I have sefrom roris, and this from Anglo-Sax. hror, dew; fror lected the following Sanscrit analogies from the 26th hryran, to fall." Wachter: " So dpóros is from Gothi Driusan, to fall."¶"From the Oriental rasas, tɩ Number of "The Edinburgh Review:" distil." Tt. Latin. With these ideas, on the utility of etymological science, and on the benefit which would result from more attention being paid to it in our great seminaries of learning, we have taken up the volume before us with much pleasure, which has been in no little degree increased by finding it bear the name of a family, almost every member of which has done some important service to classical literature. The elementary works of Doctor Valpy, of Reading, are indisputably the best treatise of the kind published; and the tasteful and elegant work of Mr.Valpy, of Norwich, the 'Elegantia Latinæ,' would have permanently ranked him among the most accomplished scholars of the age, had he not possessed the higher claims which belong to his useful and laborious life, and the employment of his scholarship in the most important purposes of learning. His edition of the Greek Testament, with the annotations which his femina extensive knowledge and indefatigable industry have supplied in the illustration of the text, is a work which should form a part of the collection of every theological student and reader, and is one for which Mr. Valpy deserves to be ranked among the benefactors of his age. Sanscrit. Latin. @s anser bellum dens, dentis Deus dies vala (force, viclence, an Sanscrit. macsha nav, (Pers. nauh) nam (S. and Pers.) nova nava poti (lord or mas army) danta deva divos pater pes, pedis potis pada vamini ter) pralaya quatuor chatur gana bhumi rex regis raja ritus riti idem rota ignis ita agni iti jugum septem sine sop-ire suavis Juno yugum janoni (amother the manifest origin of the Latin appellation of sunto the mother of the Gods.") tepor juvenis The work before us is by Mr. F. E. J. Valpy, one of the masters of Reading School, and brings additional credit to this talented family. After some brief but curious remarks,-by which the author lur, lucis shows that the Latin language is to be regarded in reference to the Greek, not as a sister, but a daughter,-He proceeds: malus yuv loch (shine) terra mala (dirty, valeo sordid) mater matara vates veh-ere vadi vah-itum medius mei-ere 'We may now, it is hoped, be warranted in believing memini that the Greek is not the sister, but the parent of the Latin. Nevertheless, the writer has not chosen to avail himself exclusively of this opinion, but has frequently mor-tum(Pers. vox, vocis vidhava vir ancus vom-itum vac (S. and Pers.) Rosa, a rose. "From Celt. rós." Ainsw. "Rose Anglo-Sax. Rhos, Welsh. Rosa, Lat. Whence bu from its colour, from rot, red?" W. From pódov, That is, from pólov, (as our murDer, says Varro. murTHer,) then pórov, as do for dó' i. e. d601, and our loveS for loveTH. But rosa is rather from ῥοδόεσσα, ῥοδοῦσσα, pertaining to a rose: cut dowr το ῥύσα. 3 Rosmarinus, Rosmarinum, rosemary. Horace separates rosmarinus; " Coronantem marino Rore Deos.' Ovid calls it ros maris. Why then is it called the dew of the sea? Gregory: "These plants grow naturall on dry rocky soils near the SEA, where they thrive prodigiously, and perfume the air so as to be smelt at a great distance from the land." It is, then, a marine plant but what has ros to do with it? I half suspec that the word is a corruption. Is it for rosa marina ? Rostrum, the beak of a bird, snout of a fish. Fr rodo, rosum, as Clausum, Claustrum; Rasum, Ras trum. Pliny has," Corvi aratoris vestigia ipsa ro dentes:" where Forcellini notes: "Hoc est, rostr tundentes cibi exquirendi gratia." Rostrum was alsc the beak of a ship. And a pulpit in the Forum wher those who addressed the people stood. Because it wa adorned with the BEAKS of the ships taken from the Antiates, 310 Rota, a wheel; a car; any thing round, as the sun's disk; a course or revolution; a wheel or rack for "Rad, criminals. "From Celt. roth." Quayle. Germ. A Celtic word. Welsh, rhod, Armoric rat, It signifies properly a hish, rit, rhotha, Franc. rad. runner or a foot running. For wheels are like feet by which a chariot (poet) runs. [As Tpoxòs fr. TрÉXW, τετροχα.] Staden derives rad from Iceland, rota, to drive round." W. 'Poléw is to rush with a loud Rota, if from poléw, is for noise and impetuosity. rutha. "Plainly from Hebr. ratah, rotavit, rotam gyravit," says Becman.'-Pp. 408, 9. We can safely and confidently recommend this publication to our readers as a useful and valuable work. It displays considerable research and erudition, and deserves to find a place in the library of every general reader, as well as the classical scholar. THE CYPRESS WREATH. The Cypress Wreath. By Mrs. C. B. Wilson. 18mo. Mrs. WILSON's elegant verses have been long The volume of Mrs. Wilson's poems now before us, consists of several pieces, some of which we have already seen, but the greater part of which have not yet been before the public. It is divided into four parts, embracing miscellaneous poems, sketches, elegies, and songs, each of which is generally characterised by the same tenderness of feeling, and easy versification, which have distinguished the authoress's former productions. Our extracts from this interesting little volume will bear us out in what we have said of Mrs. We take our Wilson's character as a poetess. first from her sketches: THE BRIDAL. 'Within the sacred Fane they stand-around Look to her heart! what thoughts are passing there (Yet thoughts, which Love himself must still allow,) THE ATHENEUM. Perchance the thoughts of HOME!-that home which now She leaves to grace another ;-happy years tears That, bursting through concealment or control, Yet hovers o'er her;-or a Mother's voice, The object of her young heart's early choice, Youth! if her gentle heart and eyes o'erflow, From thoughts like these, it augurs future bliss; Chide not these signs of sorrow, for they tell Where Truth and Love have made their sanctuary. And now the rite is o'er-the white-rob'd train, It may be both :-thrice happy they who prove Comes o'er the summer-heav'n of Love's pure sky; Fair Bride! thou know'st not all the varied ills That may o'ertake thee !-all the painful hours, That sometimes visit e'en Love's fairest flowers, repose! To watch, perhaps, a wild and wand'ring heart, Our next specimen of Mrs. Wilson's style is of a different character, but is so full of true womanly as well as poetical feeling, that it is equally worthy of praise with the one we have just given: I WATCH FOR THEE. "I watch for Thee !-when parting day pp. 143, 144. We close the volume with increased respect for the fair authoress's talents and amiable feelings. Had she not been already known to the public, it would have claimed for her its immediate attention; as it is, it will establish her reputation. GOMEZ ARIAS. Gomez Arias; or, The Moors of the Alpujarras: a THE prodigious success that has attended the nen, In ev'ry age and clime, such has been Woman's lot! subjects, are represented by them with fidelity To chide,-ah, not to chide him ;-that his love track, These, and a thousand cares like these beside, While summer lasts, against those wintry showers Repent the love it trusted ;-may thy part, and accuracy and by their efforts, historical ro- M. de Sismondi, was, we believe, the first that introduced on the Continent the new style of romance, for the invention of which we are indebted to the genius of Sir Walter Scott. In his tale of Julia Severa,' he has introduced a very interesting action, and a full and accurate description of the manners of the times in which the story is laid. The peculiarities of the fifth century are represented in the most copious and attractive manner, so as to enable the reader to have a more correct and vivid idea of them, than the page of history affords. The manners of the Gauls, the Franks, and the Romans, of that |