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will sometime or other be found in geological strata. Hence it would follow, our race has gradually progressed from the social condition of monkeys; and the account of primitive innocence, the fall, and our descent from a single pair, and consequently our redemption by an Incarnate God, brother of every human being, are so many myths, pretty enough for the feelings and sentiments, but absolutely to be rejected by the manly reason,

Will the University of Oxford, or the authorities of the Church of England, animadvert upon this book, or will they not? To us it is a melancholy but instructive evidence of the necessary tendencies of the Protestant principle.

MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE. The Sanctuary. By the Rev. R. Montgomery. (London, Chapman and Hall.) Since our review of this notable volume of poetry was in type, we have met with a critique upon it in a respectable journal, which we cannot resist transferring to our own pages, not only as an illustration of the means by which such productions as Mr. Montgomery's are puffed into sale, but as a proof that our “poet” is very far from being without rivals in his own inimitable style. We should almost incline, indeed, to think that Mr. Montgomery is his own reviewer. Certainly one is tempted to exclaim, “none but himself can be his parallel."

“This is not the first time we have had occasion to notice the effusions of Robert Montgomery, the sacred lyrist; but, if it were, any laudatory remarks from our feeble pen would be but a poor tribute to his gigantic excellence.

* In The Sanctuary there are social and domestic realities, blended most exquisitely with the glories of heaven and the felicities of religion, Mr. Montgomery has ingeniously embroidered the invisible Paradise with all that is grand and beautiful, simple and unadorned here below, and has enshrined the latter in a halo of ocelestial majesty and divine perfection, so that, while heaven is not heightened absolutely, it is relatively, and earth is made to appear as a bright planet in the firmament above. The Sanctuary shows that the Prayer-Book, viewed as a united whole, is replete with heavenly wisdom; and that when its apparent ceremonies are reduced to a matter of vital practice, there is no other book, next to the Bible itself, that deserves so much the veneration and study of Christendom. It has a lesson and a moral, too, for every class and every interest. The history of the Church of Christ-of its patriarchs and prophets, apostles and martyrs, saints and disciples, the kingdom of grace, and the whole polity of Church government, under the sacred auspices of the ministers of the gospel and the ambassadors of heaven, are more or less beautifully touched upon, illustrated, and exemplified. There is not a single poem without some point or beauty, and many of them are ushered in by some appropriate text, as if the author felt such an awe as to place himself under the special direction of Jehovah's countenance, or beneath the overshadowing and sheltering wing of inspiration, as, indeed, he well might, when portraying some of the profoundest truths and most awful mysteries which encircle the author and finisher of our faith. He has set forth all the great epochs of the Apostolic Church, with suitable meditations ; and amid the many features which have marked the times and seasons,

and stamped on the brow of the Christian era an impression so indel-' ible that only the mighty hand of eternity itself shall efface it, there is yet such a variety of treatment, and a modification of style, character, and tone in his verse, as shows, not only the author's versatility of talent and cultivated taste, but his maturity of judgment.

“We think that Mr. Montgomery has done the Church and the community at large a real and important service in having invested so valuable a Christian treasure in the novelty of poetic dress, relieved by all that is modern and popular in literature and science, and graced with an ease of expression and a lively flow of eloquence that cannot fail to carry the reader smoothly along in his passage from page to page, and leave him in the end most spiritualised and refreshed. A holy sanctity breathes through every page,and all the circumstances of daily life are most aptly and cleverly interwoven. Many of the poems are admirably adapted to be set to music, especially vocal.”

This last sentence is equal to the old saying, “ John and Thomas very like, especially John.

The Monarchs of the Main ; Adventures of the Buccaneers. By G. W. Thornbury. 3 vols. (London, Hurst and Blackett.) It is strange that the almost Homeric adventures of these warriors, halfdevil, half-demigod, should have so long lain idle in works a century and a half old, a mine unworked by professed novelists and bookmakers, and that a new man should be able to boast that he brings new scenes before the novel-reader, jaded with worn-out types of conventional existence, and that be supplies the historian with a page of English, French, and Spanish history hitherto overlooked. The present volumes appear to be intended more as a romantic tale than as a history; for they sadly lack the precision which professed historians usually think it worth while to aim at.

At the present time the readers of these volumes will scarcely fail to compare the exploits of the buccaneers, under captains chosen by themselves, with the failures, the tardy movements, and useless victories of men of the same nations, and altogether as brave, but under the control of officers chosen, not for their ability to lead them to their destination, but for their politics, their rank, or their interest.

Art-hints ; Architecture, Sculpture, and Painting. By J.J.Jarves. (London, Sampson Low.) A work on art by an American author, who commences his researches by discoursing on the nature of man, and ends them with a tabular view of the longevity of painters and the prices of pictures. . There is a great deal that is good in the book, but more that is worthless, and much that is extremely offensive to Catholics, who, one would think, in a book treating on 'art, might expect a little civility. Whatever else the Church has been, no one has the impudence to deny that she has been the great patron of art, and that her dogmas and ceremonies have kindled the enthusiasm of the greatest painters and architects, and inspired their greatest works; while her liberality has paid for them, and her generosity has displayed them as models to all the world, instead of shutting them up in galleries and state-rooms. But, says Mr. Jarves, all this was a piece of knavery, “ cunningly contrived to extort money and kisses from fools ;" it was “ dirty canvas, intended to impose on deluded devotees, and to make them believe that it possesses divine power;" it was “ used by the Roman clergy to introduce an idolatry as gross as that of discarded heathenism, in barter for lucre and power.” With his opinions of the Roman clergy (whom he does not know) it is satisfactory to compare his judgment of Protestant ministers (whom we suppose he does know). The Protestant as well as the Roman clergy “have become blind leaders of the blind. The former limit their vision to irreconcilable dogmas and creeds, and the latter to ceremonies from wliich the essence has long since fled. Both are more anxious to preserve their own than God's kingdom. Both trammel thought, though in different ways. Both not only fail in satisfying the entire inan, but shock his reason and cramp his soul.” Mr. Jarves, as a Protestant, is a competent witness against his own clergy; before he is entitled to give his testiinony against ours, he must prove his competency and his knowledge. With this distinction, we accept his testimony.

The Private Life of an Eastern King. By a Member of the Household of the late King of Oude. (London, Hope.) The author of this book has a new and strange tale to tell, and, in spite of his protestations of lack of literary skill, he tells it well. It is a strictly personal narrative, written without political object, and only incidentally alluding to the state of Oude and its government. But the narrative is useful, as giving some insight into the characters, not only of the English adventurers who frequent the Eastern courts, but also of the Company's officers, and also as supplying a new chapter on oriental life.

The author has kept his eyes open, and has as great a facility in translating what he sees into words as most professed literary men. Witness the following description of the stealthy circling of a tiger round a courtyard, in preparation for springing on his prey : 66 He made no noise whatever. The large paws were placed one after the other on the ground, the soft ball of the foot preventing any sound. Slowly were they raised and depressed ; whilst the long back as slowly made its way forwards, -now raised at the shoulders, now at the hind-quarters, as the legs were moved,—the skin glancing backwards and forwards as if hardly belonging to the bones and muscles beneath it."

Memoirs of the Court and Cabinets of George III., from original Family Documents. By the Duke of Buckingham. Vols. 3 and 4. (London, Hurst and Blackett.) These volumes form a continuation of the noble author's valuable contribution to the history of the reign of George III., consisting of original letters and documents, connected by a thread of narrative. The present volumes range from 1800 to 1810, and furnish most interesting details on the management of the great war.

The Old Court Suburb; or Memorials of Kensington, Regal, Critical, and Anecdotical. By Leigh Hunt. 2 vols. (London, Hurst and Blackett.) A veteran writer like Leigh Hunt of course says some things worth reading ; but still these volumes, with their large print and wide margins, contain a good deal of twaddle, and are not a particularly favourable specimen of book-making. The author makes his heathenism, his ignorance of, and contempt for, all religion, and especially his spite against Catholicity, too prominent, we should hope, to serve his turn. Thus he generally puts “ Nature” instead of “God ;” and he quotes as a text, “ Nature is vindicated of her children." He tells us that Wilberforce (the father) was a bigot, who contrived" to combine the most terrific ideas of the next world (for others) with the most comfortable enjoyment of this world in his own person;" he was " deep in Tractarianism (!!), and at the same time advocating the freedom of the poor negroes; which was by no means the case with all persons of his way of thinking." “He was of opinion that you must be continually thinking of God, otherwise God would be very angry;" an opinion at

which Mr. Leigh Hunt sneers, as he does also at Wilberforce's repeating the 118th (with Protestants the 119th) Psalm, which is “the longest of the psalms, extending to 176 verses, full of pious self-congratulation, and of rebukes of its deriders.” Talking of a French mistress of Charles II., the author says " she had probably learned, in the convent where she was brought up, that lawless things might become lawful to serve religious ends.” Again, with reference to the miserable Irish crowded together in the “ Rookery" at Kensington, and probably fattening Protestant landlords with rack-rent mercilessly exacted, he gives us the following reflections: “ Their priests tell us of a tine (!) house at Loretto in Italy, which the Virgin Mary lived in at. Nazareth, and which angels brought from that place into the dominions of the Pope. They also tell us that miracles never cease—at least not in Roman Catholic lands; and that nobody feels for the poor as they do. What a pity that they could not join these feelings, these hands, and these miracles, and pray a set of new houses into England for the poor bricklayer!"

We have quoted enough to show the reader that these volumes contain twaddle which is both spiteful and ignorant. Mr, Leigh Hunt sets himself up as the apostle of a religion of pure benevolence, which he exemplifies by telling the most scandalous lies of a set of men who never injured him, however much they may withstand his principles. The readers of the “ Life of Haydon” will remember a curious passage, in which the painter, who was a sort of friend of Hunt's, says, that though he was always endeavouring to show his contempt for, and disbelief in, the doctrine of eternal punishments, it was plain that it racked his very soul. This new book is a fresh proof of the correctness of Haydon's remark. He cannot even write a collection of gossip about Kensington without betraying the secret anguish of his heart.

Russia on the Black Sea and Sea of Azov : being a Narrative of l'ravels in the Crimea and bordering Provinces; with Notices of the Naval, Military, and Commercial Resources of those Countries. By H. D. Seymour, M.P. Maps, &c. (Murray.) Mr. Seymour visited the Crimea and South Russia in 1844 and 1846 ; but the chief part of his work consists not of original observations, but of an excellently arranged and critical compilation from the best writers on the subjects which he treats about. The result is by far the best book that has been published about the Crimea, and one which we may characterise as an indispensable handbook for that part of the world. The statistical chapters are all carefully made out from the best Russian authorities.

The Crimea, its Ancient and Modern History: the Khans, the Sultans, and the Czars, with notices of its Scenery and Population. By the Rev. Thos. Milner. (London, Longmans.) The Rev. Thos. Milner's book is not worthy of being named by the side of Mr. Danby Seymour's work on the same subject. The author has been at considerable pains in collecting materials for his compilation; but he is one of that numerous class of scribes that does not know how much he ought to tell. He tries to make his work amusing by means of avecdotes, and at the same time labours to be brief by means of docking the said anecdotes both of head and tail; one always misses the point, or some circumstance necessary to be known. The author evidently does not know the amount either of knowledge or ignorance with which he should credit his readers : the result is a book both shallow and pretentious, parsonically didactic, without much to say.

Glaucus, or the Wonders of the Shore. By Charles Kingsley. (Cambridge, Macmillan.) Mr. Kingsley is one of those who find in

to see.”

nature all that they want; who do not care for any thing supernatural, but would be content to sit for ever and ever on the shore in the north of Devon fishing for shrimps, and examining seaweed with a magnifying glass. It is amusing, but sad, to see how this class of persons apply the language of religion to their pursuits ; for they recognise no higher religion than the satisfaction of the natural curiosity, and find in the satisfaction of this curiosity every characteristic of a religious act. Here is a specimen of the virtues which Mr. Kingsley discovers in the really good naturalist: “ He must be of a reverent turn of mind, not rashly discrediting any reports, however vague and fragmentary ; giving man always credit for some germ of truth, and giving nature credit for an inexhaustible fertility and variety, which will keep him his life-long always reverent, yet never superstitious; wondering at the commonest, but not surprised by the most strange; free from the idols of size and sensuous loveliness ; able to see grandeur in the minutest objects, beauty in the most ungainly; estimating each thing not carnally, as the vulgar do, by its size or its pleasantness to the senses, but spiritually, by the amount of Divine thought revealed to him therein. Moreover, he must keep himself free from all those perturbations of mind which not only weaken energy, but darken and confuse the inductive faculty; from haste and laziness, from melancholy, testiness, pride, and all the passions which make men see only what they wish

The only action which Mr. Kingsley seems to allow to these passions is against the Catholic religion, which, as being the exaltation of the supernatural over the natural, and consequently involving at least some indifference and inattention to nature, not to speak of occasional ascetic repudiation of natural enjoyments, deserves to suffer all the hostility of the natural faculties of man. If persons brought to the evidences of Catholicity the temper of mind which Mr. Kingsley recommends to the naturalist, how many honest Protestants would there be left in a year's time? But this is not to be allowed; people are to expend all their fairness, all their higher qualities, on tracing the ganglions of the nervous system of a woodlouse, in order that they may have none to bestow on the really important questions of life. Such is the natural religion which is now-a-days preferred to Christianity.

Imperial Paris, including New Scenes for Old Visitors. By W.. Blanchard Jerrold. (Bradbury and Evans.) We are happy to be able to recommend this book, both as exceedingly clever and lively in itself, and full of just observations very amusingly put, and also as free from the sneers at French religion which we must own we were prepared to find in a work signed with the name of Jerrold. The author has done in a small way for Paris much the same that the Mayhews have done for London in their London Labour and London Poor. The last chapter on “ the English painted by the French” is exceedingly diverting. An extract from it is worth quoting, as putting very cleverly one of the characteristics of Englishmen, not only as seen by a foreigner, but as it is in itself: “ There are really only three things which are cheap in London, viz. flannel, crockery, and lobsters. Flannel includes all woollen goods; we may add cotton also to the list. To the lobsters, I think I may, by association of colour, add oranges. Oranges in this foggy country? Yes; the sea, which produces crabs, bears vessels laden with this fruit! In England, when people are not drinking beer, they drench themselves with tea, and swim in the Chinese pleasure it produces, to facilitate the digestion of so much beef. Tea, therefore, is no longer a medicament for these blasés stomachs. The remedy for all this is-brandy!

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