by the spectators of those ancient tragedies, where every thing inspired terror and pity: but we shall soon see if you "Pouss. Ah, ha! you begin to be a little softened: but wait for the rest, if you please. Close by there is a high road, on the side of which there is a woman, who sees the terrified man, but who cannot see the dead man, because she is in a hollow, and the ground makes a sort of a skreen between her and the spring. The sight of the frightened man causes in her a counter-stroke of fear. These two expressions of alarm are, as one may say, what griefs ought to be; the greater are silent, the lesser complain. The terror of the man makes him motionless. That of the woman, which is less, is more marked by the distortion of her face. In her you see a woman's fear, who can contain nothing; who expresses all her alarm, and gives way to all she feels; she falls, and lets fall, and forgets what she was carrying. She extends her arms, and seems to cry out. Do not these various degrees of fear and surprise make a kind of play that touches and gives pleasure? It is a caprice. This kind of composition succeeds very well, provided the fancy be regulated, and that it does not depart from the truth of nature. On the left side there are some large trees, which appear old, and such as those venerable oaks which formerly served as the divinities of a country. Their ancient trunks have a rough and rugged bark, which sends to a distance a young and tender grove, placed behind. This grove has a delicious freshOne longs to be within it. ness. One imagines a burning sunshine would respect the sacred wood. It is planted along a clear stream, and seems to admire itself therein. On one side is a deep green, on the other the dark blue of a serene sky. In this stream several objects present themselves, which amuse the eye, and relieve it after the terrible objects we first beheld. In the fore-ground all the figures are tragic. But behind all is peaceful, soft, and gay: here are boys bathing, and sporting as they swim. There, fishers in a boat; one is leaning forward, almost falling; they are hauling a net. Two others, leaning back, are rowing vigorously. Others are on the bank, playing at morra, By their faces you see that one is thinking of a number to take in his companion, who seems attentive not to be so taken. Others are walking beyond the water on a fresh green-sward. At a good distance a woman on an ass is seen, going to the neighbouring town; she is followed by two men. One instantly imagines these good people, in their rustic simplicity, going to carry to the town the abundance of the fields they have cultivated. On the same left side, above the grove, there is a sharp mountain, on which there is a castle. There is a little hill, sloping down insensibly to the river. On the slope shrubs and bushes are seen in confusion, on uncultivated ground. Before the hill great trees are planted, through which one sees the country, the water and the sky. "Leo. But that'sky, --how have you managed it? "Pouss. It is a fine blue, mixed with bright clouds, that look like gold and silver. "Leo. "Leo. What is there in the middle of the picture, beyond the river? "Pouss. A town which I have already mentioned. It is in a hollow, which conceals part of it. There are old towers, battlements, large buildings, and a confusion of houses in strong shadow; which relieves certain parts, lighted by a soft bright light from above. Above the town appears what one almost always sees above great cities in fine weather-the rising smoke sending off the mountains, which form the back ground: these mountains, of irregular shapes,vary the horizon, so that the eye is satisfied." 5.-Memoirs of the celebrated Persons composing the Kit-Cat Club; with a Prefatory Account of the Origin of the Association: illustrated with forty-eight portraits, from the Original paintings by Sir G. Kneller. London, 1821. Hurst, Robinson, and Co. From the costly manner in which this work is executed, it is sufficiently obvious that it is intended for the shelves of nobility, where it will most likely repose in undisturbed slumber, excepting that now and then my lord or my lady may demand it for the amusement of a vacant hour. The bishop of Chester has the honour of a dedication from "the author;" but who the author may be we have no means of ascertaining: but we heartily wish he had not prefaced some of his biographical fragments with such mock sublime as the following: "There is no object in the natural world so picturesque and sublime, as a lofty mountain seen from an imposing distance; its 1821. summit bright with the purest rays, and soaring above all the neighbouring hills in the majesty of inaccessible grandeur. Clouds, indeed, may envelop its mighty base, storms and tempests may rage around it, but still 'Eternal sunshine settles on its head.' As we approach the enormous fabric, the proportions of gradeur and beauty, which struck us from afar, gradually recede; and in our ascent we encounter the rugged bed of the torrent, the rock shattered by lightning, the perished moss, and all the horrors of desolation and deformity. It is not until we have attained the brow of the eminence, that feelings of rapturous but chastened wonder absorb our senses. With impressions not very unlike those we have described, have we been accustomed to contemplate the character of the illustrious subject of the present memoir, the duke of Marlborough. "Viewed through the telescope of time, he appears the scourge of France, the saviour of Europe, the boast of his own countrymen, the envy and admiration of foreigners; an invincible warrior, a profound politician, a subtle negociator, on whose lips dwelt the honied dew of persuasion ;— a master spirit who, riding upon the winds of conflicting interests, and antipathies almost deadly, could nevertheless reconcile the former, and not unfrequently remove the latter. Such is the portrait of Churchill in his public capacity, during the greater part of the reign of queen Anne; but when the torch of history sheds its clear and penetrating light upon the deeds of the same individual at other periods of his C public public career, or pursues him into the recesses of private life, our admiration of his unrivalled talents is chequered with surprise and indignation." As a literary curiosity this splendid volume is worth consultation; but when we consider how easily the whole might have been compressed into an octavo, not worth four guineas. The Kit-Cat club, composed of the principal noblemen and gentlemen of the reign of queen Anne, was instituted about the year 1700. The ostensible objects of its members appear to have been the encouragement of literature and the fine arts, and the promotion of loyalty and allegiance to the protestant succession in the house of Hanover. In their political character, Horace Walpole spoke of them as the patriots that saved Britain;' and if we look to the continued and zealous support afforded to the constitutional government of the country by this distinguished association, in emergencies upon which the future welfare of England so materially depended, it must be acknowledged that this eulogy has not been misapplied. But politics did not exclusively occupy their attention. They proposed rewards for literary merit, on something like the plan of the royal society of the present day. Pope remembers having seen a paper in lord Halifax's hand-writing, offering a premium of 400 guineas for the best written comedy. In matters of taste and criticism these gentlemen were in every respect the leaders of the town. The Kit-Cat club is said to have derived its name from the person at whose house the meetings of its members were first held. Their earliest place of rendezvous was at an obscure pastry-cook's, in Shire-lane, near Temple-bar, called Christopher Cat, eminent for the manufacture of muttonpies, which used to form the standing dish of the society at their suppers. Aided and assisted by his friend Jacob Tonson, the bookseller, who was the secretary, the keystone, and, as some have affirmed, the founder of the club, and patronized by his illustrious visitors, Christopher, or for brevity's sake, Kit Cat, removed to a more commodious residence, the Fountain-tavern in the Strand, where his guests became regular in their attendance, and increased from the thirty-nine mentioned by Malone, to the forty-eight, whose portraits are included in the present volume; among these we may instance the dukes of Marlborough and Newcastle, the earls of Dorset and Halifax, sir Robert Walpole, sir Godfrey Kneller, Vanbrugh, Garth, Steele, Addison, Congreve, Pulteney, Walsh, Stepney, &c. thus numbering, in the list of the members of this knot of illustrious persons, almost all the rank and talent of a period which has been not unaptly termed the Augustan age of British literature. Besides their regular club-room at the Fountain-tavern, these worthies were accustomed to resort to the house of Jacob Tonson, at Barne Elms, where he had built a room for their reception. Some time previous to the dissolution of the society in 1720, the duke of Somerset having had his portrait taken by sir Godfrey Kneller, presented it to old Tonson. The rest soon followed his example; example; and thus originated the present collection, which finally descended to William Baker, esq. whose grandfather married the bookseller's daughter. The Flasktavern, at Hampstead, was also, during the summer months, the scene of the club's revels; it was subsequently converted into a dwelling-house, and became the residence of the late George Stevens. The custom of toasting ladies after dinner, peculiar to the Kit Cats, gave rise (says our author) to an epigram, probably by Arbuthnot, in which the writer has suggested another etymology for the name of the club, not less curious than the one already decided upon:' "Whence deathless Kit Cat took its name In the memoirs of Thomas Holles Pelham, duke of Newcastle, of the reign of George I. and privy counsellor of George II. a curious story is preserved in a note; which is thus intoduced and narrated. "A laughable story was circulated during the duke of Newcastle's administration, and has been handed down in the various periodicals of the day, which, with whatever scepticism the reader may be disposed to regard it, is too amusing to be passed over in silence. It carries with it, at all events, the appearance of probability, and we shall therefore relate it. "At the election of a borough in Cornwall, where the ministerial and opposition interests were so equally poised that a single vote was of the utmost importance, a person not expected to give his suffrage in favour of the aristocratical side of the question, suddenly altered his mind, and by his apostacy turned the tide of affairs completely to the satisfaction of the duke, whose friend and dependant was elected, and the contest put an end to by the possessor of the casting-vote. In the warmth of gratitude for aid so gratuitous and unexpected, the duke poured forth many acknowledgments and professions of friendship in the ear of the vacillating constituent, and frequently begged to be informed in what manner he could serve him, and how he could repay an obligation he was pleased to acknowledge so important. The happy voter, who was a farmer and petty landholder in the neighbourhood, thanked the, duke cordially for his kindness, and told him that 'the supervisor of excise was old and infirm, and if he would have the goodness to recommend his son-in-law to the commissioners in case of the old man's death, he should think himself and his family bound to render government every assistance in their power on any future occasion.' 66 6 My dear friend, why do you ask for such a trifling employment?' exclaimed his grace; your relation shall have it at a word speaking, the moment it is vacant. 'But how shall I get admitted to you, my lord; for in London I understand it is a very difficult business to get a sight of you great folk, though you are so kind and complaisant to us in the country? The instant the man dies,' replied the premier, used to, and prepared for the freedoms C 2 freedoms of a contested election, 'the moment he dies, set out post haste for London; drive directly to my house, by day or night, sleeping or waking, ill or well; thunder at the door; I will leave word with my porter to shew you up stairs directly, and the employment shall be disposed of according to your wishes without fail.' "The parties separated, and it is probable that the duke of Newcastle in a very few hours forgot there was such a worthy as the Cornish voter in existence. Not so with the place-anticipating elector; his memory, cumbered with a less perplexing variety of objects than the duke's, turned out to be the most retentive of the two. The supervisor yielded in a few months afterwards to that most insatiable and scrutinizing of all gaugers, death; and the ministerial partizan, relying on the word of the peer, was conveyed to London by the mail, and having ascended the steps of a large house (now divided into three), at the corner of Great Queen-street, Lincoln's-inn-fields, 'thundered at the door!'- "It should in this place be premised, that precisely at the moment when the expectations of a considerable part of a borough in Cornwall were excited by the death of a supervisor, no less a person than the king of Spain was expected hourly to depart; an event in which all Europe, but more especially Great Britain, was materially interested. "The duke of Newcastle, on the very night that the proprietor of the decisive vote was at his door, had sat up, anxiously expecting dispatches from Madrid; wearied, however, by official business, he retired to rest, having previously given instructions to his porter not to go to bed, as he expected every minute a messenger with advices of the greatest importance, and desired that he might be shewn up stairs the moment of his arrival. His grace had just fallen asleep, when the loud rap of his friend from Cornwall saluted his ear, and effectually dispelled his slumbers. To the first question of 'Is the duke at home? (it was two o'clock in the morning) the porter answered Yes, and in bed; but has left particular orders that come when you will you are to go up to him directly.'-' God for ever bless him, a worthy and honest gentleman,' exclaimed the mediator for the vacant supervi sorship, smiling and nodding with approbation at a prime minister's so accurately keeping his promise. 'How punctual his grace is; I knew he would not deceive me: let me hear no more of lords and dukes not keeping their words— I verily believe they are honest as well as other folk.' Repeating these words as he strided up the stairs, the burgess of Cornwall was ushered into the duke's bedchamber. · "Is he dead?' enquired his grace, rubbing his eyes, and scarcely awaked from dreaming of the king of Spain, Is he dead? 'Yes, my lord,' replied the eager expectant, delighted to find that the election promise was so fresh in the minister's recollection. When did he die?' The day before yesterday, exactly at half past one o'clock, after being confined three weeks to his bed, and taking a power of doctor's stuff; and |