and open speaking, so as to be willing to confront the person assailed::-

Madam, I have only to recommend the above letter to your perusal, and please to seal and forward it. I have not said, I think, near so much as I might; but pray give it some attention. I asked Hume how he could have the conscience to think of having £75 more, after my lord's generosity in giving him £100 at Edinburgh, and £300 since, which does not make those impressions of gratitude on him that it ought. If Sir James and you think he ought to have the £75, I would be glad Sir James would tell him that it must be referred to future consideration, when he comes up next winter. I am on many accounts glad he is gone. I declare I've had more trouble with his pride and avarice than in any points concerning my lord, who continues in the best disposition with regard to your ladyship. I exhort you to be of good cheer, and take care of your health, and believe all will be for the best, which, I hope, you know is ever the sincere wish of, madam, your most affectionate, humble servant,

PH. VINCENT.

But we must recur to Hume's epistles, and learn how very seriously he was incommoded, not merely as the keeper or companion of a lunatic, but by being brought within the sphere of intriguing dishonesty and a vile, mercenary, over-reaching parasite. Just think of Hume thus situated, and being after all vanquished. However, he must have had a scope novel to him for studying mankind and the human heart. He thus expresses himself on one occasion :

I must begin by complaining of you for having yokt me here with a man of the Captain's character, without giving me the least hint concerning it, if it was known to you, as indeed it is no secret to the world. You seemed satisfy'd with his conduct, and even prais'd him to me; which I am fully persuaded was the effect of your caution, not your conviction. However, I, who was altogether a stranger, enter'd into the family with so gross a prepossession. I found a man, who took an infinite deal of pains for another, with the utmost professions both of disinterestedness and friendship to him and me; and I readily concluded that such a one must be either one of the best or one of the worst of men. I can easily excuse myself for having judg'd at first on the favourable side; and must confess that, when light first began to break in upon me, I resisted it as I would a temptation of the Devil. I thought it, however, proper to keep my eyes open for farther observation; till the strangest and most palpable facts, which I shall inform you of at meeting, put the matter out of all doubt to me.

There is nothing he wou'd be fonder of than to sow dissension betwixt my lady and you, whom he hates and fears. He flatters, and caresses, and praises, and hates me also; and would be glad to chase me away, as doing me the honour, and I hope the justice, of thinking me a person very unfit for his purposes. As he wants all manner of pretext from my conduct and behaviour, he has broken his word, and contriv'd a way of life

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for me which it is impossible for me or any other man ever to endure. not surpriz'd at this, nor imagine there is any contradiction betwixt what I here say and his seeming desire of attaching me by the offer he made me last summer. I shall explain that matter on a more proper occasion. Those who work continually upon such dark intricate designs, must observe a conduct which, to persons at a distance, who have not the proper clue, must appear a continu'd scene of contradiction.

It will be seen that we are paying no regard to sequence of dates and occasions in our selections. These are not necessary to our purpose. We are looking to indexes of character and temper; and see how the following contrast:

When I put this letter (or one to the same purpose) into Mr. Vincent's hands telling him, that though I had wrote it I did not intend to send it at present, he told me he was glad of that, because he desir'd you shou'd intermeddle as little as possible in these affairs; adding, that he intended, by keeping my Lord's person and his English affairs in his own hands, to free my Lady from all slavery to you.

Ever since, no entreaties, no threatenings have been spar'd to make me keep silence to you; to which my constant answer was, that I thought not that consistent with my duty. I told him freely, that I would lay all the foregoing reasons before you when you came to London, and hopt you wou'd prevail with him to alter his opinion. If not, we shou'd all write, if you thought proper, to my Lady Marchioness, in order to have her determination. The endeavouring, then, to make me keep silence to you, was also to keep my Lady in the dark about such material points, since I cou'd not have access to let her know the situation of our affairs by any other means.

He offered to let me leave your friend in the beginning of winter, if I pleas'd, provided I would make no opposition to his plan,—that is, wou'd not inform you: for I was not capable of making any other opposition. He added, he wou'd allow me my salary for the whole year, and that he wou'd himself supply my place, leave his house in London, and live with your friend. Can all this be taken merely for the difference betwixt one

house and another?

An evening or two before his departure from Weldehall he offer'd me the continuance of the same friendship which has always subsisted betwixt us, if I wou'd promise not to open my lips to you about this matter.

The morning of his departure, he burst out all of a sudden, when the subject was not talkt of, into threatenings; and told me that, if I ever enter'd upon this subject with you, I shou'd repent it. He went out of the house presently, and these were almost his last words.

Our next specimen shows the philosopher in a more disturbed condition than would have been readily believed otherwise than on his own showing. But what particular trouble, or series of annoyances unsettled his equanimity on the occasion does not appear :

God forgive you, dear Sir [Sir James Johnstone], God forgive you for

neither coming to us nor writing to us. The unaccountable, and, I may say, the inhuman treatment we meet with here, throws your friend into rage and fury, and me into the greatest melancholy. My only comfort is when I think of your arrival; but still I know not when I can propose to myself that satisfaction. I flatter myself you have receiv'd two short letters I wrote within this month; though the uncertainty of the post gives me apprehension. I must again entreat you to favour me with a short line to let me know the time you can propose to be with us: for, if it be near, I shall wait with patience and with pleasure; if distant, I shall write you at length, that you and my Lady Marchioness may judge of our circumstances and situation.

Among the causes of Hume's unhappiness was the dulness of the Marquis's residence, about four miles from St. Alban's; while a considerable share of Vincent's dislike and enmity arose from the philosopher's endeavour to persuade his lordship to remove to a situation more agreeable than Waldehall, which was only "fit for one who could eat or converse with the neighbouring farmers and servants." But not to dwell on the same or similar themes of discomfort any longer, we last of all quote some paragraphs which refer to the Marquis's itch for writing, and his urgency to see himself in type, upon a fashionable novel, it may have been, and after all his whims, perhaps, not so far amiss as the philosopher signifies. There seems also to have been a real love affair upon the boards, but which was less enduring, or more easily diverted, than the literary passion:

"You wou'd certainly be a little surpriz'd," writes Hume to Sir James Johnstone," and vext on receiving a printed copy of the novel, which was in hands when you left London. If I did not explain the mystery to you, I believe I told you that I hopt that affair was entirely over, by my employing Lord Marchmont and Lord Bolingbroke's authority against publishing that novel; tho' you will readily suppose that neither of these two noble lords ever perused it. This machine operated for six weeks; but the vanity of the author return'd with redoubled force, fortify'd by suspicions and encreas'd by delay. Pardie,' dit il, 'je crois que ces messieurs veulent être les scules Seigneurs d'Angleterre qui eussent de l'esprit. Mais je leur montrerai ce que le petit A- peut faire aussi.' In short, we were obliged to print off thirty copies, to make him believe that we had printed a thousand, and that they were to be disperst all over the kingdom.

"My Lady Marchioness (the Dowager) will also receive a copy; and I am afraid it may give her a good deal of uneasiness, by reason of the story alluded to in the novel, and which she may imagine my Lord is resolv'd to bring to execution. Be so good, therefore, as to inform her that I hope this affair is all over. I discover'd, about a fortnight ago, that one of the papers sent to that damsel had been sent back by her under cover to his rival, Mr. M', and that she had plainly, by that step,

sacrific'd him to her other lover.

This was real matter-of-fact, and I had the good fortune to convince him of it; so that his pride seems to have got the better of his passion, and he never talks of her at present."

Hume appears to have felt strongly with regard to the justice of his claim of £75, for he renewed it many years afterwards, and when he was in independent circumstances. It was now that the correspondence here published got into legal hands, and hence has at last fortunately been given to the world.

ART. XII.-Visits to Remarkable Places, &c. By W. HowITT. Second Series. Longman.

THE "Book of the Seasons" was so remarkably successful that the author has been encouraged to cultivate the same walk of literature which that work broke into, and to continue to gather the flowers and the fruit that grow on the wayside with more diligence than any other writer. A natural consequence of this encouragement has been over-cultivation, the author either selecting too many places, or dwelling too long upon them, and sometimes almost spoiling them by over-labour. Nor is this all the fault we have to find with the present volume. Like the first of the series, and also like to his "Rural Life of England," he draws far too freely from other visitors, to the unnecessary swelling of the size and the price of the book. Again, while professing to give us sketches which should be vivid and fresh, as well as sentiments that are obvious and natural, he is ever too apt to run into discussion and dissertation. Nor are his sentiments always in good taste, or such as will find favour with the many. For example, he sneers feebly, as well as idly to be sure, at the relics of Catholic times, such as the title of St., and the proofs of canonization, evidences of former beliefs and past sympathies which are touching and fine in the estimation of most people. Once more, while in our querulous humour,-his style is manifestly often designedly familiar and colloquial, the effect being vulgarity instead of simplicity. There is hardly anything that is more forbidding than affected non-affectation. But now, having exhausted our spleen, we proceed to a far more agreeable task that is, to declare and to show that the beautiful and the good greatly predominate in these pages; and that this Second number of the series is one of the handsomest and most desirable gifts that has ever appeared at this season of the year. It may contain much that has before been told; it may tarry about spots that cannot well be called "old halls, battle-fields, and scenes illus, trative of striking passages in history and poetry;" but his sympathies with the pure and the essentially good, with the homely and the natural,-in short, with the humanities, whether as felt at the VOL. I. (1842.) NO. I.

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fireside by children or by parents, and in the green nooks, the shady lanes, or the expanded heaths, are rich and overflowing, healthy and elevating. It may truly be said that William Howitt's works are essentially English, for he writes upon subjects, and speaks in a manner in regard to which the people of England entertain a peculiar favour. The lovely in scenery, the antique in costume, the delightful and tender to the memory-all that is fair and bright, brave and noble-whatever is engaging, gentle, or arousing about romance, poetry, and legend he makes his own, and garnishes it with the eloquence of a venerating and accordant muse. It remains only for us to quote some examples; nor need we shun adopting some of those which we observe certain of our contemporaries have selected, and thus presented cut and dry to our hands. Take first the autobiography of old James Stuart:

"I was an hundred and eleven last Christmas. My name is James Stuart; I was at the battle of Culloden; I saw Colonel Gardiner knocked off his horse by a ball and killed at Preston Pans; I saw Prince Charley march in triumph into Edinburgh, and take possession of Holyrood, and I was nearly related to him, too; I was at the battle of Bunker's Hill; I was at Quebec, too, with General Wolfe, when he was killed."

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Stop," said I. "That's enough, my friend. Don't pile such a load of falsehoods on your old head. You of course don't mean me to believe you, but are amusing me with a wonderful story. That will do; it's a good deal more than I can credit."

"It's all true, I assure you, sir; ask any of the gentlemen here; they all know me very well, and are very good to me."

"But if you are a Scotchman why do you wander away from Scotland? why, in your old age, not live amongst your natural friends and kindred ?" "Scotland is not my native country. It was my father's country, but I was born at Charlestown, in South Carolina. My father was General John Stuart, and I was born while he was serving in Carolina, but I was reared in Scotland with my sisters. I was reared at the house of Airlie, in Dunkeld. The lady of Airlie, who was pulled out of the house and killed by the Campbells, and the house burnt, was my grandmother."

The home of boyhood and the memory of a mother awaken all that is holy and pure in William Howitt's heart :

And what scene, except the brightest of the eternal heaven itself, can ever cast into comparative dimness the paradise of a boyhood in the country, under the pure and angelic guardianship of a mother? In my own heart such a time shines on through all the gladness or the sorrows of life, as a holy and beautiful existence, belonging rather to a prior world than to this. God, in his goodness, has built me a house, and peopled it with hearts that make existence to me precious and beautiful, but even into the fairest hour of that domestic peace and affection which no thankfulness can repay to the Divine Giver, still gleams the serenest and most beautiful sunshine of those days, when around the native home lay green