indeed who could witness the scene with
out emotion. These humble peasants of
Hungary have, through the native prompt-
ings of the heart, so blended the memory
of their departed friends with the feelings
of devotion, that nations boasting of higher
degrees of cultivation may respect and fol-
low their example. We may civilize and
refine away our feelings till the simple
dictates of nature are completely yielded
up. With the majority of mankind con-
solation is sought in forgetfulness; to pre-
sent a variety of new objects to the mind,
and a constant succession of changes is
deemed the duty of a comforter. Thus
the only feelings which accompany the
death of a friend are supposed to be those
purely selfish remembrances which recal to
our minds the comforts we have lost,-re-
ducing the whole sentiments of friendship
to a standard according to which our estates,
our houses, and our fortunes, hold the
highest places. For my own part, I am
persuaded that the human mind, which de-
rives such satisfaction in the formation of
friendships, is capable of maintaining and
cherishing these emotions throughout its
whole existence, and that we are truly no
more pardonable in attempting to forget a
friend who is dead, than we should be in
forgetting one that is absent. If, putting
aside all unintelligible motives, there is
one which can be felt and explained, more
pure than others, leading us to rejoice in
our future prospects, it is the idea and hope
of meeting again the friends from whom
we have been separated by death.--When
I was at Berlin, during the preceding year,
I followed the celebrated Iffland to the
grave. Mingled with some pomp, you
might trace much real feeling. In the
midst of the ceremony my attention was
attracted by a young woman, who stood
near a mound of earth newly covered with
turf, which she anxiously protected from
the feet of the pressing crowd. It was the
tomb of her parent; and the figure of this
affectionate daughter presented a monu-
ment more striking than the most costly
work of art.
There were in this burial.
ground many tributes, paid by those who
loved rather to court than shun the objects
of their affection-of friends who lingered
with delight over the last parting scene.
Throughout the church-yard there was
scarcely a mouldering heap of sand which
was not covered with the gayest flowers of

the season.

Nor were these marks of at

tention confined to the depositories of the poor. Around the enclosing wall were many monuments of marble, with recesses

formed for retirement; where, amidst bowers of green-house- plants were placed seats, on which friends might repose, and give way to their reflections and regret.

And now may I ask the reader to wander with me one step farther, whilst I speak of

the monarch to whose territories I have already transported him? Frederic of Prussia married the late Queen when very young, and a long course of years had cemented their affection, when her unexpected death threatened to break the bond. The King's sorrow was attended by the sympathy of his people. It was not the edict of the Court, but individual and sincere feeling, which filled Berlin with mourn. ers. The King and the whole family followed her on foot to the grave. A mausoleum of his own design was erected at his favourite garden of Charlottenburg, whither his wife's remains were conveyed. Here, on certain days, the public are allowed to enter; and though, when I saw it, three years had elapsed since the Queen's death, many still continued to visit the spot with reverence and affection. Early on each anniversary, the King and his eleven children, attended by a single priest, repair to this sanctuary, and, descending into the tomb, each places a garland on the coffin, when having addressed the Almighty in prayer, the King retires to the island of Paon, near Potsdam, and passes the remainder of the day in perfect solitude. That a monarch who can cherish such feelings, who can so encourage them in his family and in his people, should enjoy their affection and confidence, will astonish no one. When I resided in Berlin, this feeling was at its height, for to the attraction of private virtue was added the splendour of public glory."

We know few more beautiful passages than this, and are apt to think it quite as interesting and important as the detail of Graf Hunyadi's improvements in the breeding of sheep. Indeed, we believe that Graf could outdo the Patriarch Jacob himself, who,

"When Laban and himself were compro-
mised

That all the yeanlings which were streaked,
and pied,
Should fall as Jacob's hire-
The skilful shepherd peeled me certain
wands," &c.

There are few things that impress us so much in a book of travels as the character of the traveller. If we find him to be a cold-blooded fellow, who thinks of nothing but the importance of the information he is giving us, who has but little sympathy with the people among whom he has passed, and seems to have contemplated all the wonders of nature and art, which have started up before him, with no other feeling than as subjects for his book; though Greece or Italy were his theme,

pro

ing; in a word, the same talents which afterwards raised him to the first rank among our British historians. The grand object which the author poses, is, to contemplate the divine power and wisdom, as illustrated and magnified by the publication and establishment of Christianity. "Why was the gospel of Christ so long concealed from the world? Why was it published at that time? What do we find in that particular juncture to render the discovery of the Christian religion more necessary, or the propaga tion of it more successful?" These are the questions which naturally suggest themselves on this important subject, and which our author undertakes very successfully to answer, by proving, that about the time of Christ's appearance there prevailed a general opinion, that the Almighty would send forth some eminent messenger to communicate a more perfect discovery of his will to mankind; and by taking a general survey of the political, the moral, the religious, and domestic state of the world. For his admirable illustration of these interesting particulars, we must refer our readers to the sermon itself.. We beg leave to transcribe one passage as a fair specimen of the author's manner. After dwelling with much delight on the influence of Christianity in abolishing domestic slavery, and in mitigating the horrors of war, he thus proceeds:

"It hath become a fashionable topic among political reasoners, to celebrate the mildness and humanity of modern manners, and to prefer the character of present times, in that respect, before the ancient. To what cause shall we ascribe this important revolution in the sentiments and dispositions of mankind? Not to the influence of better instituted governments; for in legislative wisdom the ancients far

excelled us: not to the effects of a better

directed education; that duty, shamefully neglected by us, was among them an object of chief attention: not to our superior refinements in elegant and polite arts; there we must be content to equal without pretending to surpass the ancients. The Christian religion, hid from ages, but now manifested to the world, is the only cause capable of producing so great an effect: That wisdom which is from above, is pure, and peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full of mercy. Genuine Christianity is distinguished above all other religions by the mildness of its spirit; the enemy of every practice which hardens the heart;

the encourager of every virtue which ren-
ders the character humane. Wherever it
hath been established in purity, and prac-
tised with zeal, kindness, long-suffering,
meekness, charity, are the graces which ac-
Even the vices and inventions
company it.
of men, which have mingled themselves
with the truths of God, have not been able
entirely to destroy their effects. Under all
disadvantages the genius of the gospel ex-
erts itself, civilizing the fiercest and most
barbarous nations, and inspiring a gentle-
ness of disposition unknown to any other
religion. Together with the best spiritual
blessings, the most valuable temporal
mercies have been communicated to the
fies our souls, but refines our manners;
world by Christianity. It not only sancti-
life, it improves and adorns the present.
and while it gives the promises of the next
That happy change which the wisdom of
man could not effect, God in his good time
accomplished, by manifesting to the world
the mystery hid from ages and genera、
tions.”

The Fudge Family in Paris. Edited by THOMAS BROWN, the Younger, Author of the Twopenny PostBag. 12mo. London, Longman and Company, 1818.

THIS belongs to a class of commodities for which there has been a pretty effective demand in this country ever since the Revolution of 1688, but which could not be vended with impunity among any other people on the globe than Britons, or the transatlantic offspring of Britons. Even with us, such an article as this has been frequently adjudged to be contraband and seizable, yet the manufacture still goes on, connived at, if not protected, by certain expounders of the law, who have long been favourites of John Bull, and who now and then show him a little indulgence in return. It would certainly be very unfair to impute any such partiality to the established aut vitam aut culpam dignitaries of the law, and still more so, to attach any blame to those official gentlemen whose duty it is to bring such fabrics to the examination of competent judges. Whatever there is to censure in such a work as this, oddities of the celebrated personage must, therefore, be placed among the we have just mentioned. Whether it be from the natural surliness of his temper, which requires a powerful stimulant to excite his risible facul

ties, or from high notions of his own prerogatives, fostered by those who find it more convenient to cajole than to browbeat him, it is certain that it has always been held to be one of the privileges of an Englishman to treat the foibles of his rulers with very little ceremony; and, while he would look with indignation on the writer who should attempt to filch away the reputation of men in the private walks of life, he is seldom very scrupulous, whether he be Whig or Tory, about the fairness or propriety of the attacks that are made upon those who move in so exalted a sphere. A good joke of this kind is too good a thing to be confined in its enjoyment to one class, or political party; and it is honourable to those who are the objects of it, that they are known to have sometimes enjoyed it as much as others. Nothing gives importance to such trifles but an ex officio information, or, in the absence of this, a grave and elaborate defence of the personages aimed at, the task commonly of some feeble servile aspirant, who hopes, in this way, to obtain the notice of his superiors. One of the most intolerant of the London reviews seems to treat the little work which has called forth these remarks with more temper and sagacity than its pages usually display. The great fault of the book, it seems, is not that it is too severe, but that it is not so entertaining as some of its predecessors of the same class. This is the true method of discussing its merits or demerits. Yet, as it has been bought, read, laughed at, and talked about not a little, our country readers may wish to judge for

themselves in this matter.

It must be confessed, after all, that Thomas Brown, the Younger, does overstep a little the modesty of truth and nature, at least of propriety, in some of his verses. The private cha racter or conduct, even of public men, does not appear to us a legitimate subject of animadversion and sarcastic exhibition. There is not much of this, indeed, but what there is is too pungent for our palates; and we shall, therefore, decline serving it up to our readers. An admirer of this sort of writing may allege in extenuation that it hurts nobody, but merely serves to amuse the passing hour, till some other striking novelty takes its turn, when it is consigned to

oblivion. It is, at all events, a practical proof of the liberty of the press in this country; and while the fearful or selfish may inveigh bitterly against the occasional abuse of this liberty, the patriot will recognize the source from whence it flows, and find his indignation moderated, when he reflects that the evil cannot be completely separated from the good in human institutions, and that, in this case, the latter predominates in a degree altogether incalculable.-But we are committing the very fault which we have already condemned, by treating the matter too gravely. The readers of Thomas Brown the Younger's pages will decide on his demerits, but are not likely to be much influenced by the dogmas of those who think it a much greater crime to laugh at Lords Castlereagh and Sidmouth, than to be the patrons of defamation and impiety.

"The Fudge Family in Paris" consists of twelve letters, of which four are from the pen of Miss Biddy Fudge; three from Phil. Fudge, Esq. that lady's father, who has the honour to be patronized by Lord Castlereagh; two from his son, Mr Bob; and the remaining three from Phelim Connor, the tutor to this hopeful youth. Biddy and Bob are by far the cleverest of the party. The old gentleman does little credit to his patron's dis‐ cernment, being rather a mean blundering fellow, apparently as destitute of talent as of principle; and the tutor, who is a greater admirer of his late Imperial Majesty of France than of the members of the Holy Alliance, seems to be quite out of his element in such society. We shall give a pretty long extract from the first letter of our favourite Biddy, which will not only afford a specimen of the greater part of the book, but also make the reader acquainted with the characters and pursuits of the whole set. She is writing from Amiens to her friend Miss Dorothy, of Clonskilty, in Ireland.

"Our party consists, in a neat Calais job, Of papa and myself, Mr CONNOR and BOB.

You remember how sheepish Bon look'd at Kilrandy,

But, Lord! he's quite alter'd-they've made him a Dandy;

A thing, you know, whisker'd, great-coated and lac'd,

Like an hour-glass, exceedingly small in the waist:

I assure you, dear DOLLY, he knows them Young CONNOR :-they say he's so like