presently relapse into silence and melancholy, and seek an opportunity of escaping from her companion. It was not easy, however, thus to surprise her; for she became watchful and cunning in avoiding notice; and even in performing the most common and innocent actions, would affect great mystery and concealment."-Vol. iii. p. 53-5. In this state of mind she determines to sacrifice her own wishes to those of her parents, and to accept as a husband one whom she had always hated, but whom they had destined for her. The author then presents us with the following touching picture: "A few days after this conversation, the unhappy girl wandered to a spot, a small distance from the house, which, from its seclusion, and its possessing some superior attractions in point of scenery, had latterly become her favourite haunt. A footpath, deviating from a long uninteresting lane that led towards the moors, conducted the village boys, in the nutting season-before the return of which period, the last year's track had generally become imperceptible-to a quiet sequestered dell, planted with sycamores and young oaks, wove together, in parts, with a thick bed of hazelbushes. The banks on either side the descent were clothed with fern, broom, and other luxuriant vegetation, topped with bushes of hawthorn, brier, and maple, forming natural arbours, beneath which the children would sometimes seat themselves to banquet upon their nutty spoils. Through this unfrequented glen ran a streamlet, clear and pellucid, although the water, from its having traversed the peat land of the moors, had acquired a dark brown hue. Towards the centre of the recess, the runnel, falling over a rocky ledge, not more than two yards in height, spread it. self into a shallow pond of some extent, fringed with waterlilies, and overhung with alders, and, gradually contracting itself to its former narrow limits, was betrayed by its music, or the more vivid green of its rushy margin, until it worked its way out through an opening at the opposite extremity of the dell. On a mossy crag, beside this murmuring waterfall, Edith delighted to sit for hours together, indulging the mournful reveries by which her mind was now haunted, and yet occasionally soothed by sweet as well as bitter fancies, while, in the loneliness of the place, she listened idly to the rustling of the boughs, as the wind stole nestling amid their leaves, or the sound of the waters that seemed to warble responsively to the breeze. "On the morning in question, she had gathered a rose before she left home, and, deliberately plucking off the leaves, she committed them, one by one, to the stream, exclaiming, as they were torn away from her, Thus have the happy years of my life been rudely torn away from me,-they are gone, and I know not whither,-they are whirled about and agitated, and then wafted away into invisible, unrecoverable darkness, leaving my heart, like this poor leafless stalk, bare and withered, and surrounded with nothing but thorns. I remember when the very odour of a spring morning could develope futurity, conjuring up to my ima gination, nay, almost to my senses, a paradise of flowers, and perfumes, and sunny landscapes, fanned with gentle airs, animated with the melody of birds and all the cheerful sounds of busy life. It was as if the precocious breeze blew aside the veil of nature, and showed the laughing features that were to remain hidden from others until the coming May. I was happy then, and my fancy soon quickened pleasant images into life. I am now miserable; it is autumn, and methinks, in the fading hues and falling leaves that announce the coming torpor of the winter, I see the prefiguration of my own approaching death. The smell of the grave is in my nostrils, and the brawling of this brook among the pebbles sounds in mine ears like the rattling of the gravel that shall soon be thrown upon my coffin, before it is covered up for ever. Yes, earth is preparing to die, and it is time that I should do the same. Hark! what sound is that? It is the noise of the merry squirrels, chasing one another from bough to bough, amid the hazels. And now I hear the whistle of the plover, and the tender note of the wood-pigeon, and the cawing of the rooks returning to their roost trees near the church, and the twittering of the smaller birds, as they behold the winter feast of rare-coloured berries, that make the hedges gay in spite of their diminishing leaves. The waters, too, that quiver before me in the beam, seem to tremble with delight; each blade of grass that flutters in the sunshine, assumes a semblance of enjoyment; and yonder gold-skirted clouds float through the crystal fields of ether with a happy and a tranquil air. Why am I mocked with these sounds and shows of uncongenial glad ness?-why are all things happy except myself?"—Vol. iii. p. 63-7. Our readers will be somewhat surprised to learn, that Stanley Forrester, being apprized of the death of Agatha, and receiving her last commands to unite himself with her friend, marries Edith after all. But they will be still more surprised to learn, that after he has lived some time with her very happily, and beheld her at length fall a victim to consumption, he unexpectedly finds out that Agatha is not dead, and the novel concludes with his espousing her,—thus enabling the same gentleman to do justice to both ladies. On the whole, "Walter Colyton" is a respectable book of its kind; and in these days of mediocrity, we shall be glad that its author continues to write. The Historical Evidence of the Apostolical Institution of We do not think any nice point of Historical Enquiry can fall into abler or safer hands than those of Dr Russel. With much learning and research, he fixes on the strong parts only of the position which he undertakes to establish, and does not encumber it with extraneous circumstances. The reader, too, comes away impressed with the candour and fairness of his argument, because he never pushes it too far, and while he has all the ingenuity of an advocate, no judge can appear more unbiassed and impartial. Qualities of this kind are peculiarly necessary in those delicate enquiries which affect the purity of the constitution of churches, and in which the spirit of the controversialist is so much more commonly discernible than the charity of the Christian. It is necessary, perhaps, from time to time, for every body of Christians to state the grounds of their distinction from others, especially when they are not in unison with the established church of the country in which they are resident. Dissent has always an ugly aspect, and we therefore like to discover in each class of our fellow-Christians, such sound reasons for their sepa ration, as, though they may not be sufficient to prove to and I will venture to add, that the pretended liberality of an ignorant man, is either indifference or folly. No one is more disposed to respect conscientious firmness in others, than he who can give a good reason of the faith which he himself entertains; and for this cause knowledge will always be found accompanied by a truly tolerant Christian spirit-by compassion where error is inveterate, and by forbearance where prejudice and obstinacy shut the ears to conviction." We think, then, that Dr Russel has fairly made out a case which must entitle his communion to the sympathy and respect of the nation, from the majority of which it has the misfortune to differ in its conception of church government; and it is not to be considered as a chimera of no consequence, to maintain with firmness that model of polity which carries us up to the times of the Apostles, and which has been universally acted upon throughout the Christian church, except in the case of a few of the reformed churches. Attached, as we are, to the Presbyterian establishment of our land, we confess that we are pleased to see a specimen of Episcopacy amongst us, which comes as near the primitive model as can well be imagined, in which the Bishops are raised above their presbyters by no invidious wealth or dignities, but stand to them much more in the relation of fathers to sons, than as lords to vassals. Nor are we at all indisposed to admit that it was the "evil days" into which the church fell, more than any sound or enlightened principle, which occasioned the fearful rent in that coat which was at first "without seam, woven from the top throughout." But the rent has been made, and we see no reason why a liberal Presbyterian should give himself much trouble to make out that he is wronged by Swift, in his humorous representation of the effects which followed from an undue eagerness to tear off the tawdry ornaments with which the simplicity of the original texture was defaced. Dr Campbell might fairly give up his thirty or forty years, and admit Dr Russel all that he asks. What would follow? That a convulsion has taken place, which it might have been more seemly to have had otherwise managed. But, out of this chaos, a beautiful and well-ordered system has arisen, which is wound round the hearts of an attached people,-which a gracious Providence has protected and fostered, and which, if, in its origin, it has seemed to make "the kingdom of Heaven suffer violence, and to take it by force," has yet, we trust, been not unsuccessful in the invasion, but, by means of an efficient and zealous Priesthood, has long brought, and is now bringing, many sons and daughters to righteousness." For it ought to be considered in all this matter, that though there is something extremely venerable and sacred in the continued order of church government from the first times to the present, yet there is no actual command against the infringement of it; and the deviation in this point is by no means to be considered as similar to giving up the sacraments, or any positively divine insti-. tution.-It may, perhaps, amuse our readers to be told, that we recollect, some years ago, a worthy lady of the Episcopal persuasion, on whose brain the absolute necessity of Episcopacy had so wrought, that she at last fell into a species of Quixotism, which consisted in forming plans for its establishment in this country. She was a truly charitably disposed woman withal, and could not think of shulling off the present establishment, which contained so many good people, and whose clergy were such excellent and distinguished men. So she had contrived a splen. did comprehension-scheme, in which she was very impar Our readers are not ignorant of the controversy between the Episcopalian and Presbyterian Churches,-it has, in former times, been maintained with great bitterness, where secular interests were more mixed up with it; but of late years concessions have been made by the sounder opponents on both sides, that have greatly narrowed the debateable ground. It will not, for instance, be disputed by Presbyterians, in the face of St Paul's Epistles, and of every thing that we know of the first establishment of the Church, that the apostles held a species of superintendence over all the various churches which they founded; and there is every appearance that such men as Timothy and Titus succeeded them, with similar powers derived from them. This will carry us on to nearly about the close of the first century. It is as little disputed, that in the second century the Episcopal form of government, in which (we use the words of Dr Hill) "the name of Bishops was appropriated to an order of men, who possessed exclusively the right of ordination and jurisdiction, and who were the overseers of those whom they ordained," was universal over the whole Christian world. Here, then, comes the tug of war in this narrow slip of time, in which it has been attempted to be shown, that there was no superintendence resembling either the Apostolical or the Episcopal ; and that, therefore, there is no reason to suppose that the latter is the continuation of the former. Dr Campbell battles the point to obtain the rescue of some twenty or thirty years from this ecclesiastical domination, which Dr Russel, we must own, with much better success, is as determined not to grant him; and from the intermediate authorities of Ignatius, Polycarp, and Clement, proves, as it appears to us very distinctly, that there was no interruption of the Episcopal succession. And this, according to his reasoning, is by no means a matter of slight moment. "The distinctive characteristic of Episcopal government," says he, "is the exclusive power intrusted to the bishops of ordaining ministers for the service of God's Church. From the day that St Paul authorized and commanded his two spiritual sons, Timothy and Titus, to ordain presbyters in every city, to exhort and to rebuke, this privilege, it is believed, hath appertained to the first order of clergymen, as the successors of the apostles. Even St Jerome, who has been viewed as the advocate of parity in the ministers of the Gospel, acknowledges that the bishops possessed a power which belonged not to the order of presbyters, namely, the power of ordination."-"This," he afterwards adds, "is the ground upon which Episcopal churches differ from those who have extinguished the first order of clergy. It is not the form of worship, nor the dress, nor the music, nor even the keeping of those fasts and fes-tial in her distributions, and very generous, too, in her protivals which commemorate the past events of our holy religion, that constitute the real difference between Episcopalians and other Christians; for in many parts of the Continent the Presbyterians use a Liturgy as we do; and there, as well as in England, they observe the principal festivals and fasts of the Church as regularly as do the Episcopalians among whom they live. These points then, important as they are, do not form the leading and distinguishing characteristic of Episcopacy, as separated from the other forms of ecclesiastical polity. The essential difference, I say once more, respects the power of conferring orders, a power which we believe to have been originally vested in the bishops, and during 1500 years to have been exercised by them exclusively,—so exclusively, at least, as to imply that no ordination was held valid at which a bishop did not preside and officiate." vision for the new establishment. We believe Mr Alison was appointed, by her, Bishop of Edinburgh, with a salary of £2000 per annum,-Dr Inglis was made Bishop somewhere else. We do not think Dr A. Thomson was raised to the Episcopate, his dislike to the order being so notorious; yet the good lady would not leave him out, so she made him a Dean. The worst thing in the busi-ness was, that she was a little variable in her selections. After she had fixed upon Mr Alison or Dr Walker for the important see of Edinburgh, one day, she would issue a new congé d'elire the next, removing them, and putting Dr Inglis or Dr Lee in their room. We have no expectation of seeing any thing like this beautiful scheme ever brought to bear; nor, indeed, is there any great need for it." Yet," says St Paul, "show I you a more excellent way." It is to be found in the affec tionate respect which the clergy and laity of different de- The Athenæum; an Original Literary Miscellany. ed by Students in the University of Glasgow. gow. Robertson and Atkinson. 1830. 12mo. 242. Edit- Pp. AN honourable and praiseworthy ambition has led to the production of this little volume. It contains a variety of contributions, both in prose and verse, calculated to reflect credit upon the youthful writers. The prose, however, is decidedly superior to the verse. Indeed, we are rather disappointed in the latter, for, with the exception of one or two pieces by Mr Atkinson, who is not, and never was, a student at the University of Glasgow, but who, nevertheless, is one of the Editors of the Athenæum, we cannot find any thing in the shape of verse that much delighteth us. We observe that a rival publication, of a similar kind—The College Album-is announced ;-if it contains nothing better in this department, we shall be forced to confess that the gods have not made the present students at the University of Glasgow poetical.* But some of the prose articles redeem the poetry. We have, in particular, read with pleasure" Persian Sketches," the paper on the "Character of Aristotle as a Critic," "A Legend of the Covenant," "The Punished Raid," an excellent story, "The Carnival of Venice," a cleverly-told tale, The Student, or a Night in my Landlady's." It is from this last sketch, which we think one of the best in the book, that we shall make an extract: and me, but ye're a young traveller, and a far traveller; an' what's yer name, gin ye please, na?" I answered, 'Grahame.'-' Weel,' said my landlady, it's a bonny name, weel respeckit, and far kent, and no for ony ill; are ye ony friend to the Grahames of Leddiescleugh ?- I fear,' said I, I must be content to have my origin from a meaner source.' Whaurfore meaner?' said she; isna the wee spring as fresh, and mair sae, than the brown torrent that comes roaring frae the hills?' "A sicht o' you,' continued my landlady, brings back to my mind things no to be minded, without baith grief and joy. I mind weel the day when I first cam frae the Netherton to the auld brig o' Glasgow, whaur I was feed as bairns-maid to the Rev. Mr M'Whirter o' Galspindie; I was then a gilpen lassie o' seventeen, and mony a summer and winter's come and gane since that, and yet, losh me, it seems nae mair than a dream in the darkness of the nicht! I was then young. I'm now auld and grey, and, mair A tear at this moment than a' this, I'm a lanely widow.' started into her once bright, but now time-dimmed eye. I was led to enquire here several things touching the his tory of my landlady, and, among other things, the term of her widowhood. It's noo sax years and mair,' she replied, since David M'Aupie was laid in the Hie Kirkyaird. Five-and-twenty years David M'Aupie was a meal-dealer in the Briggate, as honest a man as ever walked on the causey o' Glasgow, and weel respeckit. An' I was an honest woman tae, else I had ne'er been made his marrow. It's an altered world now!-but things are no at our ain disposin,' an' it's maybe just as weel. How long is it,' I replied, since you removed here? It's five years come Whitsunday,' she answered. During this period I've had colleegeners, writers, and offishers, and though I say it mysell, nane e'er gaed aff frae Dobbie's Lawn wi' an ill word o' pa Widow M'Aupie. The last lodger I had in this same fechter in the wars with the bluidy French. He was a disroom was an auld Hieland offisher, that had been lang a creet man, but unco gien to late hours, drinkin', and galravishin', which was no for me, so we parted. Late hours, Mr Grahame, is neither gude for body nor soul, and as example is better than precept, as the Reverend Mr M Whirter used to say, I'se tell ye an anecdote respecting ane wha was a colleegener like yoursell. He was a wee laddie frae the Mearns, no muckle past fourteen. Weel, sir, that wee laddie, unless when the bell rang for the class, would scarcely gang out ower the door-step. Sometimes frae mornin' till his nicht he would sit drivin' awa' at the table amang pers and books, till he grew a complete heremite, and was na mony months till he became as white's a ghaist. I dinna wunder that it was sae. For lang I said naething; till at last I thought it my duty, and told him it wadna last lang, that if he didna exercise himsell mair, he would soon mak' himsell a corp; it was even sae as I jaloused it would be. He be gan to decline awa' till an awtomy; the blue veins becam mair and mair veesible in his hauns; and his dark een began to glimmer far awa' ben in their sockets. As the ses sion was weel gane, I got him advised to gang hame. It was with great difficulty; for, by gaun hame sae sune, he lost a chance o' a prize, at the thocht o' which he grat lang and sair. Twa lang months passed awa', and during a' this time, I heard naething frae the Mearns about the wee laddie. resolved to gang out and see. It struck me he was waur, and though a lanely woman, I Rising early ac morning in June, lang before mid-day I was on the Mearns Muir. There couldna be a finer day. The sun was shinin' with out a cloud; the birds were singing in the hedges; the plover was chiming aboon the heather; the laverock was in the lift; while the bumbee was humming in the sunshine. Awa' ower the muir while daunerin' on at my leisure, I foregathered wi' a decent-looking man on the road. How far am I, gin ye please, sir,' I said, 'frae Braehead?''Yonner it's,' said he, on the face of the knowe; there's many a sair heart at Braehead this day.' My fears told me at aince what was the cause; but, as if ignorant, Is 'Ane o' their callants, ony thing wrang?' I enquired. wha was a great scholar and a colleegener,' he said, 'dead last Monday, and this is his burial day. Wae's me! wae's me!' said I; it's the wee laddie.' And though he was neither kith nor kin to me, I was a sair-hearted woman: farther I didna gang, but turned my steps hameward; and after I had reached hame, and for many a day after, I couldna Such,' said I, 'is get that wee laddie out o' my mind.'-' the fate of thousands-born in obscurity, cradled in adversity,—and laid in an early grave.-Šo perish the dewSince writing the above, we have received "The College Al- drops of the moral world; but what withers on earth shall bloom in heaven!'It's weel that it's sae ordered!' said 66 A NIGHT IN MY LANDLADY'S. "The evening came, and as the bells were ringing the hour of six, I found myself seated by a blazing fire in Mrs M'Aupie's, Dobbie's Land. I was scarcely seated, when my landlady entered. 'Ye'll be a colleegener, nae dout?' said Mrs M'Auple. To this I answered in the affirmative. 'I was jalousing sae,' she replied; and whaur cum ye frae?' she continued. From Kirkmichael,' I answered. 'A' the way frae Kirkmichael!' she exclaimed: Losh bum," which we shall review next Saturday. 6 Mrs M'Aupie, and withdrew, leaving me to my own meditations ;--and such was my first night in my landlady's." We should have had no objections to have seen somewhat more of a classical air about this volume. With the exception of a spirited translation from King Lear, into Greek verse, there is nothing about it that breathes particularly of alma mater. The two Latin mottos on the title-page are commonplace and poor, and the last sentence of the Preface exhibits a positive blunder in the use of a Latin word. The sentence is ;-" We now take our leave of the public, assuring them, that should they smile on our efforts to gain their approbation, we shall not be backward to renew our toils in another session,Vale!" It should have been Valete, young gentlemen. The Listener. By Caroline Fry. 2 vols. London. for the hours of darkness to be gone. And when they were gone, and the daylight opened, I liked it no better. I looked out upon the damp cold landscape, and thought it was like my desolated bosom: the very light was hateful to me; for surely the truth was in my heart, though yet I knew it not. The morning grew apace; the people in the surrounding cottages came forth to their honest labours. I saw one and another making ready the breakfast for her husband, and giving a parting word to her boys,-but where were mine? Nine o'clock struck, ten, eleven'; and still they came not. This was no uncommon thing, but there was a presentiment of evil in my bosom. The clock was just upon the point of twelve, when I heard a noise of voices. I went out, and saw a crowd about Dame Willums's door. I knew her husband had been out with the party, and guessed the rest. Where is Jem?' I said to the first who would hear me, 'He will be here presently,' said the man, in a sullen tone. I had no more to ask,every body was talking, and every body was eager to tell the worst they could make of the fearful story. All murdered, all drowned, all prisoners. And soon there was not even need to listen, for my eyes beheld the worst,-the dead looking men, whose downcast looks bespoke that even they felt pity for his fate. And where was my boy? Him the cold waters held, and would not give me so much as his lifeless body. The smugglers had been attacked in endeavouring to remove their cargo; they resisted; some were slain on the spot, and the rest were drowned in attempting wife, the mother's agony, when she received of her hus to escape. Who will tell out the story? Who will tell the band no more than the disfigured corpse,-of her son, not even so much as that! Tell who may, I cannot! But you see me what I am,-I have told you what I was. Want, and disease, and remorse, and agony, have brought me to the grave. What is beyond, you may know; I do not. I believed once, but now I dare not believe."-Vol. i. p. 170-2. THE fair authoress of these volumes deserves to be bet-body of my husband borne upon the shoulders of ruffianlyter known to our readers than, we have reason to believe, she is at present. Education and religion are the subjects which have chiefly employed her pen; and although her views do not always coincide with our own, we have no hesitation in saying, that upon both subjects she has written pleasingly and instructively. We have no wish to place the name of Caroline Fry on the list of our most distinguished female writers, but neither must we confound her with the mediocre spirits of her own sex or of ours, (if we may speak of spirits being of any sex,) whose literary spawn seldom merits the attention of the critic, otherwise than as a nuisance. In all the writings of our authoress, there is much shrewdness of observation, cor. rectness of taste, and soundness of principle. This is no mean praise; and we hope that it will have the effect of directing the attention of such of our readers as can relish a good book, though its author be no Phoenix, to the unpretending volumes before us. The "Listener" is of a decidedly religious cast, but it is written with considerable liveliness and spirit. It is in Numbers, and, if we mistake not, was published as a periodical; and a pleasing little periodical it must have made. We know not a work less exceptionable, as a present for young ladies, than the "Listener." With much instruction, they may derive from it no small portion of amusement. Some of the slight sketches of character are happy; and there are one or two prettily told tales. Of course, a book of this kind, consisting of a great number of short essays upon a variety of subjects, admits of no analysis, but we shall give our readers, what they will probably like much better, a short extract. It is the concluding part of a story told on her death-bed by a wretched woman, who had tempted her husband to engage in what was called, before Mr William Huskisson so judiciously appropriated the term to his own favourite system, the free trade-in other words, smuggling. The husband and his son had gone out one night on a perilous enterprise : "They went, and surely something in my heart misgave me of what was coming; for I felt I could not go to bed that night. It was already dark when they went away, and many a time I opened the casement to look out upon the night. The wind howled frightfully; I heard the waves thundering upon the rocks, as if they would have rent the firm earth in pieces; and so dark was it, that when in my restlessness I went out to try it, I could not find my way across the road. Not a star was there in all the heavens, nor a bit of moon to light them on their perilous way, -'twas ever such nights as these they chose to do their boldest deeds. Hour after hour I listened, though I knew not for what, for they were miles away. I shuddered at the silence. I started even at the noise I made myself, as from time to time I threw on a log to keep the fire burning, that they might warm and dry them when they came. I saw my neglected Bible on the shelf, and remembered the time when it would have consoled me,-but not now; I remembered when, in times of fear and danger to those I loved, I should have betaken myself to prayer,—but not now. I could but sit and watch the dial-plate, and long, and long | whole book is No. 18, " The Two Invitations;" but we Perhaps the most spirited and interesting essay in the enough has been said to give our readers a good opinion cannot afford to make any more extracts. We hope that of the authoress and her work. Memoirs of the Rev. William Wilson, A.M. Minister of the Gospel at Perth, one of the four brethren—the founders of the Secession Church, &c. With a brief Sketch of the State of Religion in Scotland for fifty years immediately posterior to the Revolution; including a circumstantial Account of the Origin of the Secession. By the Rev. Andrew Ferrier. Glasgow. Robertson and Atkinson. 1830. 8vo. Pp. 388. THAT the Secession Church of Scotland is a numerous, important, and truly respectable body of Christians, the sternest stickler for the unbroken integrity of our venerable establishment will not deny. Beyond the pale of their own communion, however, we suspect that, for the last thirty or forty years, the precise origin and manner of its separation from its elder sister has been lost sight of, as the kindlier feelings of Christian communion gradually superseded the fiery zeal which, before the middle of the last century, and, indeed, throughout the greater part of it, arranged those fond of polemical discussion in two opposite ranks. While we are, in one sense, not sorry that this oblivion has wrapped up, from the present generation, all that was intemperate in the history of the discussions of those days, we yet are well pleased to see a volume like the present appear, holding, as we do, the opinion, that it is a sacred duty to conserve the memory of those pious men who have stood forward in good faith, and with a Christian spirit, in the attitude of reformers of those abuses which, without unceasing vigilance, would soon corrupt the practice of what may, for a time, have been the purest of religious institutions. If charity be one of its elements, we cannot but look with a degree of veneration upon the abstract character of an ecclesiastical reformer. From what we gather of the subject of this Memoir, from his biographer, and from his own diary-deciphered from shorthand with a spirit of unsubdued devotion to a sacred task-William Wilson, one of the four brethren, as the fathers of the Secession Church are endearingly called by their followers, was worthy of being so viewed, and his memory preserved in honourable remembrance. The affectionate and able chronicler of his life-son to one of the most learned and accomplished theologians and men of letters of the time, Dr Ferrier of Paisley-besides participating in these sentiments, had the honourable claim of lineal descent from Mr Wilson, to entitle him to undertake a task which he has judiciously performed; and he has thus given a personal and domestic interest to a volume which has intrinsically a general and intense one to a large section of the Christian public. The Memoir is divided, in the old style, into periods, and proceeds in a lucid manner, only broken by copious and interesting extracts from the correspondence, &c. of its theme. We presume the volume will command a wide circulation. The Portfolio of the Martyr-Student. London. Longman, Lees, Orme, and Co. 1830. 12mo. Pp. 191. WE presume this is the production of a very young man. It indicates the possession of a poetical temperament, and it is not unlikely that, with a little more experience and study, the author may produce poetry of a superior kind. Some of the minor pieces are pretty, and there is a good deal of vigour in several passages of the longer poem. MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE. THE APOLOGY. IN THREE PARTS. giving me little books of pictures, and explaining them to me. The appearance of this patroness of my early youth I have from that day clearly remembered: and it seems to have been impressed upon me in rather a whimsical way. On the lady's cheek was a small spot streaked with those wavy threads of red, to which immoderate sorrow, or indulgence, or natural decay, often attenuates the tints of a florid beauty. A leaf had fallen from one of my little books, and I remember to have asked a scarlet thread from her cheek to sew it again into its proper place. I omit farther record of my boyhood as common and uninteresting, and advance to deeper and more perilous details. One evening, in the eighteenth summer of my age, I was crossing on horseback a river about twenty miles from home, when the animal on which I rode was mastered by the force of the current, which was heavily flooded from previous rains; and horse and rider were rolled down in the strong stream. From the first rush and thunder of waters in my soul, a dim blank was over me till I awoke to a confused sense of what had befallen me, and of my now being kindly ministered to. To this succeeded a heavy sleep, which must have lasted during the night, for when I next distinctly awoke, the light of the sun through a green curtain fell with a fine haze upon my face as I lay upon an unknown bed, and the song of swallows from the eaves was as if it were the matin hour. "It is certainly morning," said I to myself, as I lay still, trying to remember how I had come thither. I was interrupted in my calculation, by the entrance of a good-looking man, apparently a farmer, who, after satisfying himself that I was fairly awake, began to congratulate me on my escape from drowning in the river, and then told me, in answer to my enquiry, that I had been saved by a young niece of his own, who having seen the failure of my horse, By Thomas Aird, Author of " Religious Characteristics," watched me as I was rolled down the river, till, on being to me. &c. Speak of me as I am: nothing extenuate, borne near the bank where she was, she rushed in and drew me out at the peril of her own life. 66 I am sorry to say," he added, "that your horse perished; but this is comparatively nothing since yourself are safe. I must now go for our sweet young surgeon, for, do you know, Or my parentage I can say nothing: a mystery over- you have got an ugly gash on your head against some hangs my childhood, which I have sought in vain to clear rock in the water, and it is needful now to have it dressup, and which I now believe must for ever remain darked." My host retired for a few minutes, and then reThere is nothing more common than to hear it remarked, “How short seems our bypast life!" but to me, sir, this moment the days of my boyhood appear so far remote that they seem to belong to some other earlier world. Such are my farthest recollections of a sunny world of yore, and of my being led out into the pleasant fields by some kind playmate, of whom I remember only the little feet that went before me. Would I could forget these early passages altogether, or knew them more distinctly! Sometimes my spirit is so earnest, and, as I think, so near falling into the proper train of pursuing them, that in my anxiety—I may call it my agony—the perspiration stands upon my brow. I see the dim something before me, yet never can overtake or unmask it "You might as well IIunt half a day for a forgotten dream.” The first point in my childhood which I clearly remember, is, that I was sitting alone plucking the blossoms from a fine bush of budding broom, when a crow alighted near my feet, and carried off a large worm. Then came a woman, whose face I cannot recall, with a little red shoe in her hand, which she put upon one of my feet; and then she took me up. Probably it had fallen off by the way, and I had been set down on the grass till she went back to seek it. The next point, and that to which I can follow back my continuous recollections, is my being in a room with an elderly lady, who took great pains to amuse me in turned, followed by a fair young creature, with salve and |