enriched the pages of Blackwood's Magazine; and The Shepherd's Calendar, and Queen's Wake are what the Shepherd will be known to posterity by, We have thus, principally from memory, followed a chronological account of the Shepherd's literary career, and have spoken only of his larger works, omitting a variety of minor effusions on almost every topic in heaven, earth, and elsewhere; in prose and poetry, good, bad, and indifferent; which has from time to time dropped from his pen. In all, by his own account, he has produced about thirty volumes, exclusive of his most recent production, the Altrive Tales, which came from the press on his visit to London in the winter of 1832, on which occasion an immense number of literary friends and admirers honoured him with a public dinner at Freemasons' Hall, which was graced by the presence of some of the most distinguished characters oi the day. It was a proud day for James Hogg. The poetry of the Shepherd, to speak generally of his productions, is not that of contemplation like Wordsworth, nor of reflection like that of Bowles, nor of minute observation like Crabbe, nor of character like that of Scott. There is about it a dreaminess, and occasional magnificence, of which a parallel were difficult to be found. He is essentially a poet of imagination. He delights in the picturesque, in the wild, lonely, savage features of nature ;— the Covenanter on the sea-beat cliff, the shepherd on the heathery mountain, the plaided clansman beside the sepulchral cairn, on the muir, or the enthusiast waiting the appearance of the sheeted dead in the moonlit glen. His muse is conversant only with terrors and superstitions," fierce wars and faithful loves," the romance of human action, the poetry of life. Of the private character of the Shepherd, we know but one point, and that is, that he is an honest, conscientious, worthy man, and those who have known him for thirty years will bear this testimony. Often have we seen him, after his highest exaltation on the pinnacle of his poetic fame, standing in the Grassmarket of Edinburgh mixing with his unsophisticated compeers, apparently utterly unconscious and careless of himself: and it is recorded by one against whom the Shepherd has poised in many a fierce contest the political lance: "It ought to be recorded to his (Mr. Hogg's) honour, that neither poverty nor ambition have been able to produce in him the slightest obsequiousness towards the possessors of glory or power; or even to subdue in him a certain disposition to bid defiance to critics, and to hold poets and patrons equally cheap and familiar. This is unusual in men whose talents have raised out of a humble condition in society, especially where they are unaccompanied, as in the present instance, either with any inherent insolence of character, or any irregularities of private life."* We present our readers with a bold sketch of the Shepherd, and if it is further required that we should individualize him, imagine him sitting in his study in Ettrick Forest. Just suppose a little snuggery, ten feet by nine, with a good fire (we write on a cold day in spring) one window to the S. E., surrounded with piles of miscellaneous literature, (for his library is the adjacent, a handsome room, painted blue and white, with windows to the east and south, the north side shelved from floor to cornice, every shelf fringed with green above, and filled with books; the folios undermost, and upwards to 12mo.'s,) and let the reader farther suppose the Shepherd to be seated at his oak table with his dog sleeping at his feet, and some proof sheets of the Life of Burns, his forthcoming work, before him, and a more accurate picture cannot be conveyed of him who is the pride of "Yarrow flood and Ettrick vale." I. Mr. Jeffrey-Edinburgh Review. THIS superb structure is now in course of erection, from the designs of Mr. Hardwick, architect of the Marylebone New Church, St. Katherine's Docks, &c. It stands in Fosterlane, Cheapside, occupying the site of the old Hall, and somewhat more space obtained by purchase of adjoining houses, and facing the back-front of the New Post Office. It is of the Roman, or Composite order. The plinth or basement is of Haytor granite, and the superstructure of fine Portland stone. The façade or principal front is represented in the Engraving. In the centre, resting on the granite plinth as a pedestal, are six columns, with enriched Corinthian capitals; the wings being terminated with angular antæ, or pilasters of the same order. The entablature throughout the building is enVOL. XXI. B riched with a bold cornice of extraordinary beauty; finished with a parapet; the centre having a plain attic. The basement story is channelled; and the windows of the principal story have enriched and boldly-projecting pediments, supported by handsome brackets; the centre windows opening to balconies with balustrades. The intercolumniations of the centre, above the first story, have, in place of the continuation of the windows of the second story, emblematic embellishments. In the centre division are the arms of the Goldsmiths' Company;* on each side are charac The Goldsmiths' arms are quarterly, gules and azure, in the first and fourth, a leopard's head, or; in the second and third, a covered cup, between two buckles, all of the last; crest, a demi Goldsmith, in the dress of Elizabeth's reign, his right hand sustain teristics of the festal appropriation of the Hall; and the extreme divisions are occupied by groups of naval and military trophies. A single glance at this handsome building can scarcely fail to impress the beholder with its vastness, as well as with the elaborate richness of its minute details. The massive granite plinth, the broad front of the pilasters, and the bold corbels of the cornice, contribute to this admirable effect. The attic is likewise of the most appropriate introduction. The mouldings and other enrichments of the principal story are of the most pleasing character: among the former, the favourite echinus is prominent. The interior of the building is so far from complete, as to afford but an outline idea of its disposal. By the way, a well-executed Engraving of the Goldsmiths' (New) Hall, with more of the neighbourhood than we have space to delineate, heads one of the Stationers' sheet almanacs for the present year, which will, doubtless, be a favourite in the City, as the present building will be the most elegant of the Civic Halls. This is the third Hall erected by the Company of Goldsmiths. The first Hall, (on the site of the present one,) was founded in 1407, by Sir Drew Barentine, Lord Mayor in 1398. Stow calls it "a proper house, but not large:" it was destroyed by the Great Fire; but another fabric rose in its place a few years afterwards. The buildings were of brick, the front being ornamented with stone corners wrought in rustic, and a large arched entrance, with a high pediment supported on Doric columns, and open at the top, to give room for a shield of the Company's arms. The Hall itself was spacious and lofty, paved with black and white marble, and superbly embellished. The balustrade of the staircase was elegantly carved; and the walls bore reliefs of scrolls, flowers, and musical instruments. The Court-room was another richly. wainscoted apartment: the chimney-piece, of marble, was very sumptuous, the sides being adorned with male caryatides, and the whole enriched by scrolls, grapes, &c. Above was a painting of St. Dunstan, the patron saint of the Company, in conversation with the Holy Virgin; having in the back-ground a representation of the saint burning the devil's nose, as described in the ancient legend, when assailed by the fiend with temptation. ing a pair of scales, his left hand holding an ingot: supporters, unicorns: motto, "To God only be all glory." The arms are ancient; the crest and supporters were granted by Robert Cooke, Clarencieux, in 1571. *We believe the best introduction of an attic to be when the building has a proportionate basement or stylobate, and when the columns or antæ of the principal order are not standing on the ground: which conditions are maintained in the present instance. THE STUDY OF NATURAL HIS- "States fall, arts fade, but nature doth not die!" Ir we impartially enumerate the subjects which principally attracted the attention, and exercised the pens, of the literati of past ages, it must be candidly admitted, that the study of the fine arts and abstruse sciences maintained, in their estimation, a decided preference over that of natural history. What could have caused such a seeming distate, or, perhaps, want of resolution, to examine the countless beauties displayed throughout the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms, which bear a stamp of superiority that universally points out the infinite wisdom and boundless power of their Creator,—I am at a loss to say. But, much to the credit of more modern writers, the natural productions of the vast globe we inhabit have occupied a very considerable share of their strictest observation, and profound research. Most of the branches of natural history have, consequently, been rendered familiar and accessible to persons of every age and capacity; and whilst the names of Turton, Jardine, Rennie, and Loudon, and their learned contemporaries, are enrolled on the list of its supporters, great and daily accessions may be expected to this delightful store of knowledge. Few individuals of the present day, át all possessed of ambitious feelings, rest satisfied with the collected strength of their mental acquirements, if they are entirely ignorant of the higher properties and systematic arrangements of a science, the elements of which are now implanted in the minds of children with the rudiments of their native language. To what, then, can this general desire of information be attributed? Are the natural talents of the present generation superior to those of our ancestors? Certainly not: the truth of which the works of a Shakspeare, Milton, and Pope, can fully attest. We must, therefore, conclude, that the limited state of information in former days may have been, in a great measure, owing to the difficulties which writers had to encounter in the circulation of their works. But the channels for the diffusion of learning have been latterly extended in an uncommon degree by the rapid improvements which have been effected in the arts of Printing and Engraving. What the former fails to convey by graphic description, is amply made up by the clear illustration of the latter; the advantages of which none but the affluent could formerly reap, and then but in a very circumscribed and complicated form; whilst now the means of instruction are placed in the hands of the humblest cottager. We have magazines of all prices; zoological and botanical gardens; Linnæan, geographical, geological, and philosophical scocieties, the pub lication of whose transactions materially tends to the advancement of useful knowledge. In what view can the most perfect object of human discovery, or the chastest specimen of man's ingenuity, rival in excellence, or even bear the least comparison with, the most insignificant of God's creatures; the contempla tion of which would fill the mind with a religious awe of Him, under whose protection and guidance "we live, move, and have our being ?" If we can really regard His works in this admirable light, the hours of relaxation, from business of more urgent nature, would be pleasantly, and, at the same time, profitably spent, if devoted to the consideration of such wonderful productions. To think that the prosecution of such a course would be unattended with difficulties would be wrong; and far worse to dwell upon and suffer their ideal magnitude to deter us from following our inclina tion in so laudable a pursuit, before we are aware of their real nature and extent. By be ginning at the root of the " tree of know ledge" with a firm resolution to overcome all the obstructions which ignorance, at first sight, imagines to be insuperable, we may, in a short time, become masters of the highest branch of that science which taste may lead us to explore. For such reasons, the good sense of the well-informed has prompted them to write introductory essays on the subject of natural history, placing it at once in the power of those who have not the opportunity, or, perhaps, the ability, of searching into and collecting together the information afforded by works in different languages, to benefit by the valuable experience and fruits arising from the copious writings of a few, whose time and attention have been occupied in the strict investigation of the expansive field of nature. J. H. I. THE ACORN. (From the German.) To an ancient, pious Bramin was a grandson born. Full of joy at the blessing which had again happened to his house, he said, "I will go out hence, and thank the Great Spirit and Father of Nature, who has blessed us; perhaps He may give me opportunity to honour Him, even through one good deed."-So spoke the Bramin, and went. The blossom of pure joy is gratitude, and its fruit benevolence. With the lively feeling of honouring the Great and Beneficent Spirit, the old man stepped into the fields, and, in the shade of the trees, each of his thoughts was a prayer. Still sparkled the drops of a freshly-fallen shower on stalks, blossoms, and leaves. Although he had already seen the spring ninety times, nature seemed to him again made young, and fairer than ever; for she grows not old to him who reveres her Creator, and recognises in the figure the benevolent Sculptor. The old man set on his way forward; and, on the beaten path, he found an acorn; the rain had already, through its fertilizing power, sent the germ forth, and the shell burst asunder-but it could not take root on the hard, bare path. He stooped, took it up, and said, "How charming it is to be brought thus far on my way, for easily hadst thou been trodden in pieces by the foot of the wanderer, or withered by the solar rays. Happy shall I be, if I can here do a good work, and, by deed, fulfil my inward sentiment, and the aim of wise nature advance, who with each breath shows a benefit;-even the smallest thankfulness is a sweet duty." A youngster, who stood behind the oaktree, and who had caught up the words of the Bramin, stepped forward, and jeeringly smiled. "Why smilest thou ?" asked the old man. The youngster answered, " At thy childish thought, my elder; that thou canst rejoice at having rescued the life of an acorn!" "Youngster," said the Bramin," how art thou able to know my thoughts, since to-day is the first time thou hast seen me ? and why dost thou jeer at the small service which I intend to perform to nature? To her is the acorn worth as much as the tree; and, without that, this were not. Even virtue, my son, begins with the little; and, from this, mounts upwards the great: but the nearer she approaches to the completion of the original, even so much the more she, herself, inclines to humility and simplicity; and then to her is worth the smallest, as much as the highest, Sends not Brama, too, his ray and dew on the blade of grass as well as on the palm-tree ?" Thus spoke the old man with friendly seriousness. The youngster silently withdrew himself, full of veneration. He had seen the noble, old man in his dignity, and he wished to be like him; for frivolity itself must, in its heart, revere virtue. The Bramin set forward on his way to a hill, which was overgrown round about with thorns. He met a pedlar, who asked, "Thinkest thou that, out of an acorn, thou canst rear a tree for thyself? Thou wilt, indeed, scarcely have the joy of its shade." The old man answered, "Must one, at the planting, think only on the shade of the tee, and on one's self? Does nature so? My son, he who has not planted earlier than, and before, yesterday, finds in the planting itself his motive and his joy." He came to the hill, on the peak of which, among the thorns, he buried the acorn, and covered it carefully over with earth and moss. Why plantest thou among thorns?" called out a herdsman opposite to him; "thou carest badly for thy nurseling." "Friend," replied the Bramin," so long as the little plant is tender and small, the thorns will shelter it from raw winds and injury; and, when it grows up, it will work a way through for itself for it is an oak. My son, I have obtained this of nature; the good mo ther considers equally the tenderness and strength of her foster-children." After the old man had completed his work, he trod gaily on the way back to his home. stead. He who builds on the highways, thought he, has many a master; but the skil ful man goes his own road. As he drew near to his hut, his grandsons and great-grandsons sprang towards him, and asked, "Where hast thou been so long?" But he assembled them around about him, and recounted all which had happened to him: and the little children caressed the old man whilst he spoke; the elder ones, however, hung on his lips, and hearkened to him. "Oh," said the old man, when he had finished, "there is certainly no place fairer than in the lap of nature, when the father loves his offspring, and, in the quiet circle of his family, is beloved by his children. Yes, love-abounding Brama!" cried he, and glanced upwards to heaven," in the quiet circle of nature and of domestic peace stands thy holy temple!" The new-planted oak soon grew forth out of the germ, and raised itself up above the thorns, and became a spreading, shady tree. There died the old man, and his loved-ones buried him on the hill: and whenever they saw the tree, and heard its rustlings, they were mindful of the life and wise sayings of the Bramin, even to the latest times, and recited from him, and sought to become like him, for the word of a wise man is as a grain of corn in the fruitful ground. W. G. C. WAGES. IN 1530, the wages of husbandmen and full labourers were eightpence a-day each. In the reign of Henry VIII., the wages of a falconer were generally a groat a-day, and he was allowed a penny a-day for the food of each hawk entrusted to his care. A huntsman received thirty-five shillings and fivepence a-quarter; and, as well as most of the other servants, he had fourpence a-day board-wages. The allowance for the boys of the stable was one shilling and eightpence per week each; and of the King's riding-boys two shillings a-week each. The keeper of the Barbary horse was allowed one shilling and eightpence a-week for his board, his wages being four pounds a-year. The hen-taker was, however, better paid; as he received two pounds, five shillings, and sevenpence a quarter. The regular wages of the King's watermen were ten shillings a-quar ter; but, it would appear, that they were paid extra upon every occasion they were employed. Sexton, the fool's servant's wages were fifteen shillings a-quarter. The gardeners of York-place, and of Baulie, or New-hall, in Suffolk, received twelve pounds per annum; the gardener of Greenwich twenty pounds a-year; and the gardeners of Windsor and Wanstead four pounds a-year.-W. G. C. New Books. THE COMIC ANNUAL FOR 1833. By Thomas Hood, Esq. He Such is the title of Mr. Hood's volume. does not add and super-add, a Christmas do so with greater propriety than his more present and New-year's gift, though he might sombre brethren or sisterhood of the Annual family. He does not sail in the sea of sentiment, or linger about the lake of lugubriousress; but, singing Mirth admit me of thy crew, he strikes through the ocean of revelry, and leaves the poor, dull, dripping mortals, to whine forth their sonnets and plaints to His book and hearts of rock and stone. name have the very air of promise, and furnish pleasant spice of agreeable small-talk in this season of pastime; whilst some over cunning folks borrow his jokes, and pass them off as their own. The volume before us is as racy as ever in generous outpourings, with none of the lees, of patter and pun making. The Cuts are even of better execution, if not design, than in previous years; and one of them, a fat, pursy tax-gatherer, wittily termed "The Great Plague of London," will, we hope, last as long as taxes are gathered; which fame may probably be set down as an immortality. We do not describe the Cuts, as they best tell themselves; and the fun of the letter-press must be per se. One of our prose favourites is THE UNFAVOURABLE REVIEW "You remember Philiphaugh, Sir?" "Umph!" said the Major, "the less we say about Old Mortality. that, John, the better." To Mr. Robert Cherry, the Orchard, Kent. DEAR BOB,-It's no use your making more stir about the barley. Business has no business to stand before king and country, and I couldn't go to Ashford Market and the review at the same time. The Earl called out the Yeomanry for a grand field day at Bumper Daggle Bottom Common, and to say nothing of its being my horse duty to attend, I wouldn't have lost my sight for the whole barley in Kent. Besides the Earl, the great Duke did us the honour to come and see the troops go through everything, and it rained all the time. Except for the crops, a more. unfavouring day couldn't have been picked out for man or beast, and many a nag has got a consequential cough. The ground was very good, with only one leap that nobody took, but the weather was terribly against. It blew equinoxious gales, and rained like watering pots with the rose off. But as somebody said, one cannot always have their reviews cut and dry. We set out from Ashford at ten, and was two hours getting to Bumper Daggle Bottom Common, but it's full six mile. The Bumper |