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little communion with her inner heart-and it may be overlooked by those who pay to her the most devout worship.

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TALBOYS. And Religion affords to the Artist in Words or Forms the highest Forms of Thought-sublime, beautiful, solemnwithal the sense of Aspiration-possibly of Inspiration.

| wonder and will worship. Think how Poet is dumb and Sculptor lame, who foreknows that what he would sing, what he would carve, TALBOYS. Methinks, sir, that the moral will neither be felt nor understood. emotion with which we regard actions great- BULLER. The Religion of a people furly right or greatly wrong, is no transport;nishes the sympathy which both pays and apit is an earnest, solemn feeling of a mind knowing there is no peace for living souls, except in their Moral Obedience, and therefore receiving a deep and grateful assurance of the peace of one soul more, in witnessing its adherence to its virtue; and the pain which is suffered from crime is much more allied to sorrow, in contemplating the wilful departure of a spirit from its only possible Good, than to those feelings of repugnance and hate which characterize the temper of our common human emotion towards crimes offering violence and outrage to humanity.

NORTH. I believe that, though darkness lies round and about us seeking to solve such questions, a feeling of deep satisfaction in witnessing the adherence to Moral Rectitude, and of deep pain in witnessing the departure from it, are the necessary results of a moral sensibility; but taken in their elementary simplicity, they have, I think, a character distinct from those many other emotions which will necessarily blend with them, in the heart of one human being looking upon the actions of another" because that we have all one human heart."

TALBOYS. Who can doubt that Religion infuses power and exaltation into the Arts? The bare History teaches this. In Greece, Poetry sang of Gods, and of Heroes, in whose transactions Gods moved. Sculpture moulded forms which were attempted expressions of Divine Attributes. Architecture constructed Temples. De facto the Grecian Arts rose out of Religion. And were not the same Arts, of revived Italy, religious?

BULLER. They all require for their foundation and support a great pervading sympathy -some Feeling that holds a whole national breast. This is needed to munificently defraying the Costlier Arts--no base consideration at bottom. For it is a life-bond of this life, that is freely dropped, when men freely and generously contribute their means to the honor of Religion. There is sentiment in opening your purse.

NORTH. And it guards Philosophy-and preserves it, by spiritual influence, from degradation worse than death. The mind is first excited into activity through the impressions made by external objects on the senses. The French metaphysicians-pretending to follow Locke-proceeded to discover in the mind a mere compound of Sensations, and of Ideas drawn from Sensations. Sensations, and Ideas that were the Relics of Sensations-nothing more.

TALBOYS. And thus, sir, by degrees, the Mind appeared to them to be nothing else than a product of the body-say rather a state of the body.

NORTH. A self-degradation, my friend, which to the utmost removes the mind from God. And this Creed was welcome to those to whom the belief in Him was irksome. That which we see and touch became to such Philosophers the whole of Reality. Deity-the Relation of the Creation to the Creator-the hope of a Futurity beyond the grave-vanished from the Belief of Materialists living in, and by, and to-Sensation.

SEWARD. And with what a horrid sympathy was the creed welcomed!

NORTH. Ay, Seward, I who lived nearer the time-perhaps better than you can-know the evil. Not in the schools alone, or in the solitude of philosophical thought, the doctrine of an arid speculation circulated, like a thin and unwholesome blood, through the veins of polite literature; not in the schools alone, but in the gorgeous and gay saloons, where the highly-born, the courtly, and the wealthy, winged the lazy hours with light or dissolute pleasures-there the Philosophy which fettered the soul in the pleasing bands of the Senses, which plucked it SEWARD. Yes, Buller-without that senti- back from a feared immortality, which opened ment no man can love noble Art. The true, a gulf of infinite separation between it and deep, grand support of Genius is the confi- its Maker, was cordially entertained-there dence of universal sympathy. Homer sings it pointed the jest and the jibe. Skepticism because Greece listens. Phidias pours out a study--the zeal of Unbelief! Principles his soul over marble, gold, and ivory, because of false thought appeared suddenly and widehe knows that at Olympia united Greece willly as principles of false passion and of false

action. Doubts, difficulties, guesses, fine spinnings of the perverse brain, seized upon the temper of the times---became the springs of public and popular movements-engines of political change. The Venerations of Time were changed into Abominations. A Will strong to overthrow-hostile to Orderanarchical" intended siege and defiance to Heaven." The irreligious Philosophy of the calmer time now bore its fruits. The Century had prepared the explosion that signalized

its close-Impiety was the name of the Giant whom these throes of the convulsed earth had borne into the day, and down together went Throne and Altar. But where are we? BULLER. At the river mouth. NORTH. What! at home.

BULLER. See the Tent-Lights-hear the Tent-Music.

NORTH. Your arm, Talboys-till I disembark. Up to the Mount I shall then climb, unassisted but by the Crutch.

CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE,

A NEGRO, who had run away from his master in South Carolina, arrived in London in an American ship. Soon after he landed, he got acquainted with a poor, honest laundress, in Wapping, who washed his linen. This poor woman usually wore two gold rings on one of her fingers, and it was said she had saved a little money, which induced this wretch to conceive the design of murdering her, and taking her property. She was a widow, and lived in an humble dwelling with her nephew. One night her nephew came home much intoxicated, and was put to bed. The negro, who was aware of the circumstance, thought this would be a favorable opportunity for executing his bloody design. Accordingly, he climbed up to the top of the house, stripped himself naked, and descended through the chimney to the apartment of the laundress, whom he murdered-not until after a severe struggle, the noise of which awoke her drunken nephew in the adjoining room, who got up and hastened to the rescue of his aunt. In the meantime the villain had cut off the finger with the rings; but before he could escape, he was grappled with by the nephew, who, being a very powerful man, though much intoxicated, very nearly overpowered him; when, by the light of the moon, which shone through the window, he discovered the com

plexion of the villain, whom (having seldom seen a negro) he took for the devil! The murderer then disengaged himself from the grasp of the nephew, and succeeded in making his escape through the chimney. But the nephew believed, and ever afterwards declared, that it was the devil with whom he had struggled, and who had subsequently flown into the air and disappeared. The negro, in the course of the struggle, had besmeared the young man's shirt in many places with the blood of his victim; and this, joined with other circumstances, induced his neighbors to consider the nephew as the murderer of his aunt. He was arrested, examined, and committed to prison, though he persisted in asserting his innocence, and told his story of the midnight visitor, which appeared not only improbable, but ridiculous in the extreme. He was tried, convicted, and executed, protesting to the last his total ignorance of the murder, and throwing it wholly on his black antagonist, whom he believed to be no other than Satan. The real murderer was not suspected, and returned to America with his little booty; but he, after a wretched existence of ten years, on his death-bed confessed the murder, and related the particulars attending it.—Boston Mercantile Journal.

From the New Monthly Magazine.

THE AUTHORS OF THE "REJECTED ADDRESSES."

THE last of the "Adelphi" is no morethe last of the brothers who first rendered their writings popular in the "Rejected Addresses." Both were clever men and piquant writers, but Horace Smith is something beyond this. He possessed talents of a wider scope than James, who preceded him to the grave in 1839; his views were more extended; he was more intellectually accomplished, had seen much more of the world, and thought deeper. James was a wit, an agreeable companion, possessed of a fine vein of humor, but circumscribed in the extent of his information, and, as a natural consequence, more concentrated in himself. James selected his subjects for the most part within the circle in which he moved and continued to move through life. A happy point well made, it was his delight to repeat at the dinner-table or in the evening party, His jokes, and excellent they were, thrown off among convivial friends-in short, society, cheerfulness, and its accompaniments--constituted the summum of his life's pleasures. His frame was not active; his bachelor habits and dinings-out rendered him a subject for the gout, to which disorder he ultimately fell a victim. From his office in Austin Friars to his residence in the Strand, constituted the major part of his journeyings. Horace, on the contrary, was of an active make. A year or two after we first knew him he visited Italy; and returning, for some time made France his residence. We first saw James at his office in Austin Friars, nearly thirty years ago. He looked as serious as the parchments and papers surrounding himfor he was a solicitor by profession, and

transacted the business of the Board of Ordnance. He seemed in this situation as little of a wit as can well be imagined. A joke took place on this visit, often subsequently repeated. There were two Smiths on the same side of the court, and we had very naturally knocked at the door of the first we came to. On entering his office we mentioned our mistake: "Aye," said James

Smith, "I am James the first; he must abdicate; I reigned here before he came."

James was a well-looking man, but having a little of that stiffness of bearing which often attaches to a life of uniformity, with comparatively circumscribed habits. He was a constant and keen observer of city manners, and the foibles of many of the citizens he made the subject of harmless ridicule. We say harmless, for there was never the smallest portion of ill-nature in his satirical touches. He smote the folly, but spared the man; a mode much more effectual in the way of reformation, than that severity of censure which awakens the resistance of self-love. His pieces, collected and published by his brother, whom we have just lost, fully exhibit this view of his nature. A prevalent foible, a trivial display of vanity, a trait of self-indulgence, an epicurean inclination, or any little peculiarity, being the subject, he generally handled it as briefly as possible, and most probably worked the whole point out in his mind before he committed it to

paper. It may be questioned if anything he ever wrote cost him more than one sitting. The closing line or two, or the last stanza, wound up what he called "his moral.' There was much less of liberality of feeling about him than about his brother Horace. It is difficult to say which of the two was the most witty in the social hour. Dependent upon momentary, often upon an involuntary disposition to cheerfulness at the moment, all wits are unequal in brilliancy at times. Both brothers may be characterized rather as possessors of a high talent for humor, than of that sparkling wit which characterized Hook. Sometimes, with all his wonderful readiness, it was hit or miss with Hook, who aimed at notoriety, no matter how acquired. The Smiths were both graver men, and would have thought to run a joke too near to a failure was akin to one. have known Horace Smith indignant at Hook's jesting not only ill, but out of place, in his wild manner.

We

James Smith wanted the cordial spirit of his brother; there was, we fancied, little warmth of heart about him. He seemed to mingle somewhat of his professional character in social intercourse. On this account we surmise that James will be much sooner forgotten by his friends than Horace. The duration of the living remembrance in these cases is proportionate to the previous reciprocity of action. Both brothers were delightful companions. Many an hour of mental depression have we felt relieved by their society. The humor and gladiatorial displays of wit that occurred in their company were always gentlemanly, generous in temper, unimpeachably moral, and never the splenetic outpouring of ill-natured feeling.

Horace, or Horatio, as he always subscribed himself, was not only the most accomplished, but the most genial spirit of the two. He was as much attached to the society of literary men who made no pretension to be wits, and to solid and serious reading, as to the gay and light. His range of acquirement was considerable, and at one time he dabbled a little in metaphysics, but fortunately escaped from their maze without bewilderment. He began his literary career at the desk of a merchant; and became, as is pretty well known, a favorite of Richard Cumberland, and his coadjutor in a work that turned out a failure, at the early age of twenty-three. In after life, his literary labor and his city business went hand-in-hand. Before he relinquished business, we met him posting westward one day, about three P. M.

"Where are you going so fast, Smith ?" "Who would not go fast to Paradise (Paradise-row, Fulham)? I am going to sin, like our first parents."

"How? there are no apples to pluck at Fulham, yet?"

"No; but there is ink to spill, though a worse sin, perhaps. I have promised Lsomething, I cannot tell what. Who the deuce can hit upon anything new, when half the world is racking its brains to do the same ?"

This is thirty years ago, and now the utterer of that remark is within the precincts of the tomb; while the intervening time saw no diminution of his regard for intellectual pleasures, nor, with much to flatter his talents in the way of his literary labors, any decrease of that modest feeling in regard to his own writings, which is one of the strongest attestations of merit. In this respect he differed from his brother, who had, or always impressed the minds of others that he had,

a full sense of the merit of his own compositions.

"I must unaffectedly declare," said Horace Smith, "that no one has an humbler opinion of my attempts than myself."

We fully credit his sincerity, notwithstanding we are well aware that authors may sometimes play off a little hypocrisy as well as other men. His modesty in this regard was a beautiful trait in a character rarely met with in the world, for such his undoubtedly

was.

The "Rejected Addresses" was a happy publication, exceedingly well-timed. Unfortunately, several of the characters whose styles are imitated there have passed into obscurity, and the keenness of the satire cannot now always be understood. The stolidity of Fitzgerald, for example, rendered so much more amusing by his own unconsciousness of it, both as to his voice and recitations at the Literary Fund dinners, cannot be comprehended by the present generation; yet Fitzgerald's was among the most happy of the imitations, and if we recollect aright, was Horace Smith's. The diminution of interest upon this ground must increase as time fleets away; a result inseparable from writing upon subjects of a temporary character.

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Horace Smith realized a sufficient sum to satisfy his own moderate wishes, and determined, in despite of the reproaches of his city friends, to seize the moment for retiring while independence was within his grasp. "The hope of future gain," he observed, 'might lead him to risk what he had secured." We think this occurred about 1820, or a year later. When the crash of 1825 happened, he was able to turn the tables upon those who had thus reproached him. "Where are those now who called me a fool for retiring, when I had the independence that suited my wishes? Who was right ?— I pity them." This contentedness, and regard of money as the means rather than the end, was a distinguishing trait in his character.

Shelley and Horace Smith were intimate friends. He always spoke with high regard both of that lofty poet and his writings. He did not, however, applaud the mistaken theories of that enthusiastic genius in his youth; theories which Shelley himself subsequently modified. "Though Shelley is my particular friend," said Smith, "I regret the imprudence of his publications on more points than one; but as I know him to possess the most exalted virtues, and find in others, who also promulgate the most startling

theories, the most amiable traits, I learn to be tolerant towards abstract speculations, which, not exercising any baneful influence on their authors' lives, are still less likely to corrupt others. Truth is great, and will prevail; that is my motto: and I would therefore leave everything unshackled, for what is true stands, and what is false ought to fall, whatever the consequences."

These are certainly the doctrines of one accustomed to think, and to place the result of every contest between truth and falsehood upon an incontrovertible basis. The foregoing remark originated in the way of reply, after Smith had been charged in a monthly periodical, at that time remarkable for its illiberality, with being a contemplated contributor to the publication of the "Liberal," then about to be commenced by Byron and others. Smith had visited Italy, we believe, just before, and was then resident at Versailles. He knew nothing whatever of that joint undertaking. On telling him of this, he replied, "I should never contribute a line were I asked, which I assure you I never have been."

Horace Smith had a great dislike to that brainless ostentation, which rules in England now in a degree perhaps greater than when he was struck by the difference of foreign countries in this respect. Abroad, a man required you to regard himself, not his servants or liveries.

true sense of what was due to the rule of conscience, and it guided him unerringly. He performed the kindest and most disinterested acts without the slightest ostentation. He was ever ready and zealous to perform good offices for any; and sometimes ran counter to his own impressions, and wrestled with his own judgment, when the question bore the aspect alone of benevolence and kindness. Before, as he used to phrase it, he gave up worshipping mammon," and had no more than a moderate run of business, he volunteered, in conjunction with a friend, to pay off the debts of a literary man who had been disgracefully prosecuted by the ministry of that day; and accordingly paid down the moiety of £1000 for the purpose. He was, notwithstanding, a careful manager in monetary affairs, of inexpensive habits, great evenness of temper, cheerful, never boisterous, and with such a stock of useful philosophy as reconciled him in the order of his ideas to the good and evil of humanity in his existing position, as we feel certain it would have done equally in any position that might have been a trial to his nature. In this respect there seemed a great difference between the two brothers. James ever appeared to have his sympathies nearest home, and to share far less in the pleasures or pains of others. Not that he wanted good-nature, but that a certain disregard overcame him about all out of his beaten track. There was little of that heart-display about him, which so spontaneously appeared on all occasions when accident called it forth on the part of his brother.

"A man here," said he, "with £400 a year keeps a horse and a cabriolet, which in England would be sneered at; but he keeps them to answer a purpose-the purpose of conveying him to his friends, and giving him air, pleasure, and variety; all which an English-ary man forgoes if he cannot do it in an expensive style and manner, mounting a lackey behind bedaubed with gold lace. Pride, pursepride, is the besetting sin of England; and, like most other sins, brings its own punishment, by converting existence into a struggle, and environing it with gloom and despondency."

The mode of thinking of most individuals, upon the commonest topics, is perhaps best judged by insultated opinions. We believe Horace Smith to have been one of the truest and honestest thinkers of his day, though he was not always inclined to be communicative of his ideas-not that he was a deeper thinker than some others whose names are upon record, but, what is of much more importance, he thought justly. In rectitude of intention we do not believe he was surpassed by any contemporary. He had a

The early success of Horace Smith's liter

labors attached him to them for their own sake-a thing become rarer in the present day than in the past. It was by no means the same with James. While resident in France, Horace, in conjunction with one or two friends, projected the establishment of an English newspaper in Paris. The French government, self-denominated constitutional, according to its invariable. practice of ruling by professions that its acts belied, could not openly deny the right to publish. As was the practice from Louis XVIII. to Louis Philippe, always arbitrary, it shuffled out of the dilemma in which it was sometimes placed between counter-inclination and what the law sanctioned. Neither a negative nor an affirmative answer could Smith ever obtain. In this mode the application lay over, until his patience was fairly worn out. They will not give a direct negative, and decline an affirmative; and in this way

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