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" Like strangers * voices here they sound , In lands where not a memory strays , Nor landmark breathes of other days , But all is new unhallow'd ground . " This one more , and we have done : — " Yon thought my heart too far diseased ; You wonder , when my fancies play , - . ' To find me gay among the gay . Like one with any triftV pleased . " Th «* shade by wh ' ch my Ufa was crost , Which makes a desert in the nund , Has made me kin ily with my kind , And like to him whose eight is lost ; " Whose feet are guided through the land , Whose jest among his friends is free . Who takes the children on his knee , And winds their curls about hia hand : " He plays with threads , he beats his chair For pastime , dreaming of the sky ; His inner day can never die , His night of loss is always there . " From the specimens already given you may estimate the beauty of the volume . We shall be surprised if it do es not become the solace and delight of every house where poetry is loved . A true and hopeful spirit breathes from its pages . Sorrow has purified him . Its lessons are no ungenerous or repining thoughts ; and truly does he say , " I hold it true , whate ' er befal ; I feel it , when I sorrow most 'Tis better to have loved and lost , Than never to have loved at all . " And elsewhere : — " O last regret , Regret can die ! No—mixt with all this mystic frame , Her deep relations are the same ; But with long use her tears are dry . " Sorrow is the deepest teacher ; it opens the portals of worlds which otherwise were unexplored ; it mingles with our life , enlarges our capacity of feeling , deepens our sympathy , corrects the egotism of our nature , and raises our moral development . All who have sorrowed will listen with delight to the chastened strains here poured forth In Memoriam .
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NEW NOVEL BY DUMAS . Les Mills et Un Fantomes . Par Alexandre Dumas . Tomes l-f > . London . W . Jeffs . We were immersed in the ocean of Jules Janin ' s inexhaustible prose ; a voice with aspirations towards the falsetto and some difficulty in articulating its notes drawled forth , " I say , Jeffs , have you a new volume of Dumas ' s Fantomes ? they ' re devilish good ! " "We looked up . A youth with straw-coloured moustaches , and an appearance of indescribable languor stood beside us . awaiting the new volume as the only thing that could for an hour charm his ennui . La Femme au Collier de Velours wns handed to him . He turned over the leaves , whistled beween his teeth an imperfect reminiscence of Idol de ma vie , and finally departed . No sooner had he left the shop than we , who had seen Les Mille et Un Fantomes lying on Jeffs' counter any week this last six months , without the faintest curiosity as to their contents , were suddenly seized with a desire to look into the volumes which had charmed
our languid friend . The best part of this is , that in our own minds the conviction that the said youth was a noodle had been instantaneous , complete ; yet this hypothetical noodle ' s opinion determined our acts ! What is man ! Enough ; we looked into the volumes , and saw sufficient promise to make us carry them away . Having read them and formed the same opinion of them as our friend with the straminal moustaches ( his noodleism , by the way , is now an open question !) we proceed to render an account thereof for the benefit of our bclovod readers , who will thank us for indicating some amusement to them .
Les Mille et Un Fantomes is a collection of stories all belonging to the " supernatural " in their incidents . The great Dumas tells us that ho was wearied of the actual world and forced to fly for refuge to the world of imagination . Among the many incredible buffooneries of this amazing Frenchman there is one which occasionally delights him and ua , and that is the gravity with which he assumes tho chnracter of a poet , a dreamer , an enthusiast ; Dumas " the friend
of princes ' is nothing to Dumas the poet ! There ore several touches of this in the present work ; and in tho preface ho nnys that ho very much fears , alas ! that every elevated , every poetical , every dreaming mind , is in tho same condition as his awn—fatigued with tho world and seeking God's ¦> nly refuge , tho Ideal ! When you come to road tho fictions— -which n careful mother is hereby not recomnenriod to place in her daughter ' s hands —you will ippreeiate the full force of this ; for , although the
stories are unreal enough , the ideality is somewhat peculiar . But the stories , amusing as they are , are not half so amusing as the biographical buffooneries with which this most intrepid charlatan and most readable of braggadocios beguiles the time . There is something colossal in the man ' s conceit . It is so audacious that you relish it as you would relish Arnal or Keeley . He is always " en scene , " ; you don ' t believe a word he says , and yet you read every word , and are amused by it . He chats with you about himself—lying considerably , as you cannot but feeltells you how he knew Nodier , Villenave , James ,
Rousseau , Biard , the King of Holland , and " amis les princes ; " howheis read in Acre , Damascus , Balbeck ; and how , in fact , the whole " universe " knows the author o f Les Trots Mousquetaires ; and while he chats you cannot set down the book . When he was in Spain he bethought him that a hunt in the Sierras Morenas would be delightful . But then the Brigands ? ... Bah ! as if all the Brigands of Spain were not admirers of Monte Cristo , and " why should not the same lot befal me as that which befel Ariosto with the brigands of the Duke of Alphonzo ? " Without a doubt . Accordingly Dumas indites ( if you believe him , which we don ' t ) this epistle , and sends it to the brigands by a safe hand : —
' ? To Messieurs the Gentlemen of the Sierras Morenas . —An admirer of the immortal Cervantes , who , although he is not fortunate enough to have written Don Quixote , is quite ready to give the best of his novels to have written it , desiring to know whether the Spain of 1846 is the same as that of 1580 , begs messieurs to acquaint him whether he will be welcomed by them in case he should venture to demand their hospitality , and the permission to hunt with them among the mountains . "
Dumas is not conspicuous for his modesty ; but should not his tact have suggested that it was scarcely a compliment to Spain that he , Alexandre , should be willing "to give the best of his novels" to have written Don Quixote ? " Monte Cristo may be superior to Don Quixote ; so may Les Trots Mousquetaires ; so may La Guerre des Femmes ; so may Amaury ; so may any of the thousand and one volumes which have made him known to the " universe ; " it is , however ,
somewhat questionable whether the national pride of Spain would be flattered by the supposition . However the brigands were men qui savaient vivre , and they at once offered the great poet every hospitality . But the reader must look it out for himself ; the narrative is perfect . One passage from these biographical confidences we must give , it is so characteristic of the man : — " I am never alone whilst I have one of my own books by me . I open the volume . Each page brings back to me a day spentand that day instantly revives , from the
, moment of its dawn to its twilight , throbbing with the same emotions that filled it , peopled by the same persons who passed through it . Where was I on that day ? In what part of the world was I seeking diversion , asking for souvenirs , culling hopes , buds which fade before they blossom , blossoms which fall to pieces often before they burst into bloom ! Was I visiting Germany , Italy , Africa , England , or Greece ? Was 1 sailing up the lihine , praying in the Coliseum , hunting in the Sierra , encamped in the desert , dreaming at Westminster , engraving my name on the grave of Archimedes or the mine
rock of the Thermopylae ? What hand touched that day ? Is it that of a king seated on his throne ? Is it that of a herdsman guarding his flock ? What prince called me friend ? What beggar called me brother ? With whom did I share my purse in the morning ? Who broke bread with me in the evening ? During twenty years , which have been the happy hours scored in chalk ? which the dark hours marked in charcoal ? Alas ! The best part of my life already lies in with thick
reminiscences . I am like one of those trees foliage , full of birds , silent at noon , but which wake up towards the close of the day , and which , when night falls , will fill my old age with fluttering of wings and with songs ; they will thus enliven it with their joy , their loves , and their noises , until death touches the hospitable tree in its turn , and the tree in falling frightens all those noisy singers , each of which will be nothing but one of the hours of my life . "
You believe nil this , of course . 33 ut wo have forgotten the works in the man . A word of recommendation will suffice : as stories they arc very amusing , especially Les Mariagcs du Pere Olifus , which is not reading for young ladies , but which rocals tho inimitable talcs of Voltaire ; and La Fcmme au Collier de Velours is a fine bit of Hoffmanism . Altogether , looking at tho state of the thermometer in the shade , and the general
indisposito think , accompanied by the languor in which novels are most acceptable , because one can enjoy them passively , the render cannot do better than
follow the example of our young friend with the blonde moustaches and our own graver selves , and read Les Mille et Un Fantomes .
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bigsby ' s shoe and canoe . The Shoe and Canoe , or Pictures of Travel in the Canadas illustrative of their Scenery and of Colonial - Life , with Facts and Opinions on ( emigration . State Policy , and other Points of public interest . With numerous maps and plates . By John Bigsby , M . D . In 2 vols . Chapman and Hall . There are qualities in this book which go far to redeem its bulkiness and triviality , and could some stern and friendly pen strike out about on e half of the matter here printed , the shorn remainder would have both value and interest . Dr . Bigsby , pencil in
hand , wandered for some six years over the Canadas , and mostly out of common tracks , visiting Lakes Simcoe , Huron , and Superior , a portion of South Hudson's Bay , and journeying up the River Ottawa into Lake Nipissing . He has experience , therefore , which we gladly welcome ; but our gratitude for some of the matter of these volumes will not extend to the manner . Dr . Bigsby has almost every fault which a narrator should avoid . He does not make
the necessary distinction between details that are characteristic and details that are trivial . He records the vulgarest incidents of his day ' s journey with heavy minuteness , and delivers himself of platitudes with an air that is irresistibly ludicrous ; thus , after a story about Huerta , the guitarist , he deems it necessary to make a reflection ; and this is the reflection he makes—giving it all the honours of a paragraph standing by itself : —
" We frequently meet with great musical talent in the most unlikely place . " Very true , Doctor ; and we frequently meet with platitudes , but not so frequently in independent paragraphs , looking like aphorisms , as in your volumes . It is but a matter of printing , you will say . Perhaps so ; yet if by printing artifices you give importance to a platitude , the reader will resent it : as in this case : — " The physical condition of man—how wretched , how inconsistent with his destinies ! and yet how full of promise ! "
Why is such a remark to be framed and glazed , and the reader called upon " to walk up and admire" ? Does there perchance lie some profundity of thought in it worthy to solicit our meditative leisure ? In his preface he says : — ? 'Mine is a personal narrative . The reader ' s indulgence is , therefore , requested for the egotism which is
unavoidable . The impersonal is unreadable : it is the current incident of the day which gives transparency and life . Some may say , that I gossip a little . This possibly may be so . It happened to the wisest of men when beguiled by an agreeable theme . The cheerful get-along style which I desire to adopt is now acknowledged to be the true descriptive ; and the stately and sonorous circumlocution of our forefathers is happily out of fashion . "
Having read the book , this passage is pregnant with . humour to our minds . " The impersonal is unreadable " ? e ' est selon ! we can assure the excellent Doctor that the " personal" also can become unreadable , very ; and that his little theory about current incidents giving transparency and life must be supported by better evidence than the Shoe and
Canoe . But what tickles us most is the strange delusion existing in his mind respecting his own style , which he imagines to be the " cheerful getalong style , " now " acknowledged to be the true descriptive . " Well , some people have their own private notions of liveliness . We have known a flabby-faced family-joker retail Joe Millers with remorseless circumlocution , and be considered by his
friends " very good company indeed . " To quit this skirmishing with Dr . Bigsby ' s strange pretensions , and confine ourselves to his actual claims , we arc bound to declare that his volumes contain both new and interesting matter ; tho maps and plates are of great utility ; and , if many pages are somewhat unsubstantial and excrescent , there are many containing facts and descriptions of real value . We are almost puzzled where to cull our extracts , the volumes offer so many . Here is an amusing description of CHARIVARI AT QUEI 1 EC .
" Here a stout , high-spirited young afljutant of a marching regiment , thought well to marry the widowstill handsome and but little past her prime—of an opulent , brewer . She was of a good French family , and resembled the famous widow of Kent iu haviug a most agreeable annual income . For aught I know she may have thrown off her weeds too soon , or was thought to have made a mesalliance . Be these things as they may , there was a charivari . " I was at home , in one of the principal streets , when
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304 ® tie & £ && *? + [ Saturday ,
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Leader (1850-1860), June 22, 1850, page 304, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1843/page/16/
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