Of Mrs. Jameson's more purely artistic works, of which her last, "The Poetry of Sacred and Legendary Art," is the title, we have no room for remark here, further than that she has produced a work remarkable alike for its purity, its truth and beauty. The two volumes of which it consists, are a perfect treasure for the artist, the poet, and the amateur. We see she announces another volume in continuation of these, entitled, "Legends of the Monastic Orders," &c. Her little book, on the early Italian Painters, consisting of short biographies with wood-cut portraits and copies of some of their works, is a little gem. We would particularly notice that part devoted to the sculptors who executed the gates of Pisa, for its vividness and force;—we speak from memory on the subject We have given Mrs. Jameson the credit of being "a very woman," and our readers will not wonder when we say also, that she is a modest woman; and we use the term in its widest sense. Capable as she is of understanding art, both in painting and literature, she does not take upon herself any airs because she can appreciate both. On the contrary, we find her to be more of an admirer than a critic; we find her constant to her aim, which we have quoted, rather to hold up to our view the good and the beautiful for our example, than the evil and the ugly for our scorn. In her essay on "Woman's Mission and Woman's Position," she tells this pretty little story. "There was once a Spanish lady, a certain Maria d'Escobar, living at Lima, who had a few grains of wheat which she had brought from Estramadura. She planted them in her garden, and of the slender harvest she distributed to others, until that which had been counted in grains was counted in sheaves; and that which had been counted in sheaves was counted in fields; and thence came all the corn which is now found in Peru." She likens these few grains of wheat to her own single and unassisted efforts to do good, and hopes that although few and weak now, they may yet bear fruit an hundred fold. We think we may give her the

encouragement of all well-wishing people; we may promise her. that whatsoever she has done in behalf of poor suffering humanity, will not die. Seed of this kind has a wonderful vitality, and though sown on a stony soil, some wind of heaven catches it up sooner or later, and deposits it on a more favorable spot, where it quickens and bears fruit. Is not the thought which Shakspere uttered and shaped—living, spreading, and vivifying to this day? Are there not older thoughts than his still treasured in people's minds, and though narrated long ago at the Olympic games, or preached by the sea of Galilee, yet do they not, even now, to this day, rule the Christian world? We do not wholly believe,

"The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is often interred with their bones."

This essay of hers on "Woman's Position," &c. must have done good to some one, we hope to many an one; and while it is in print to be read, must continue to do good. That on "Governesses and Employers," must also have a beneficial effect on the classes to whom it is addressed. From what we have said, it will be seen Mrs. Jameson's genius is eminently practical; it would bring the flowers of art and genius to glorify our common household lives, and render them more sweet by the beatification. She would have the poet's thought lend courage and endurance to the laborer at his toil, or gently sooth him when at rest, or stir him into activity when disposed to be idle; she would have the painter's idea made, as it is visible, to his bodily eye, dwell in his mind and furnish him with a continual picture for hope, for persistence, for reward. She knows and would teach with Keats,

"A thing of beauty is a joy for ever,"

and the labor of her life has been that "the thing of beauty should be seen. She has tried to lend her eyes to those who will

avail themselves of her sight; she has acted the part of Love, which Shakspere says,

"Lends a precious seeing to the eye."

There are many points of resemblance between her and Hazlitt ; they are both (would to heaven we could say with truth-they are! but we must be allowed the figure) lovers of Shakspere; both lover's of art; both expounders of art; both excellent as critics; both in some measure artists; both followers of literature as a profession; and here we believe our parallel ends.

Mrs. Jameson is still alive; we do not know her age, nor where she was born, but we have seen and spoken with her; and any one else may see her who is in the habit of keeping up with things in London; for wherever there is a good cause to be argued, an eloquent speaker to be heard, a sight worth seeing, to be seen, there you may see Mrs. Jameson. Aye, and in that homely-looking figure you may be sure there beats one of the truest hearts that ever beat in woman's bosom.

DOUGLAS JERROLD AND "PUNCH."

Mr. Jerrold is the son of a country manager, and was very early introduced on the "Thespean boards." Somewhere about his twelfth year growing tired of mimic grandeur, he entered himself as sailor boy in the coasting trade, where he remained some time: a very short apprenticeship to the wonders and hardships of the ocean brought him back to the theatrical life, which seemed not so bad after storms and salt beef. His good genius here tempted him to write a short drama, which was performed with great success he then by degrees grew into favor, and coming to London, became the eminent author he is. Let it not be supposed by sonnet-writing young men, that he achieved this distinction easily; no one leap into the seat of honor was his; but a painful, heartbreaking toiling up that hill which always reminds us of the labor of Sisyphus: how often when we believe we have rolled the stone to the top, does it slip from us, and roll down thundering to the base! So with Jerrold; dread was his fight, but his bold heart held out, and he triumphed. His greatest first success was the drama of "The Rent Day." This was so true a picture, that all felt it go to the heart, and the author was installed a master of smiles and tears on the spot. To this succeeded many a soul-stirring piece of dramatic life, all calculated to fill the house, and render the writer popular with audience and manager. A curious ren13*

counter happened to Jerrold on the first night of "The Rent Day." When he was a midshipman on board a man-of-war, he met in the same capacity a lad named Clarkson Stanfield. Sixteen years after, these two sailor boys met on the boards of Drury Lane, one the great scene painter, and the other a successful dramatist. Here, however, he might have remained to the end of the chapter, merely considered as a prolific writer of farces, two-act comedies, and domestic melodramas; fortunately, however, "Punch" was started, and after a few numbers Jerrold became one of its leading spirits. It is unnecessary to relate how rapidly this world-wide celebrated publication rose in public estimation. This very work, however, suggests a moral. The brothers Mayhew, Tomlins, Lemon, Grattan, and a few others planned the work, and raising somewhere about £40 amongst them, started the first number: three or four mouths, however, brought them to an end of their resources, and as they were about to abandon the undertaking in despair, Bradbury and Evans became the proprietors for a mere trifle, taking the liabilities upon themselves. Its after success it is unnecessary to revert to; it is well known all over the world. In this Jerrold first became the "observed writer," and every paper he wrote was eagerly perused. A circulation of seventy thousand copies soon made the chief writer one of the most popular authors of the time.

"The Story of a Feather" was first published here, and gave ample scope for the peculiarities of his style and thought. We know very many critics of great acumen who prefer Jerrold to Dickens; but while we allow that he is a more caustic, sweeping writer, we miss that broad geniality which renders the other so acceptable to all classes. There are curious resemblances, and still stronger contrasts between Dickens and Jerrold their hatred of oppression is the same; so are their democratic tendencies; and whenever they can expose conventional humbug, they do it unsparingly; but here the likeness ends. Their manner and method