dary sense, he alleges, as an instance of a passage which is applied to the time of Christ, though it literally belongs to another period, the words of Jeremiah (ch. xxxi. 15) which are applied by the Evangelist Matthew (ch. ii. 18) to the massacre of the children at Bethlehem. In this, and in several other passages of a similar kind, the formulæ used by the writers of the New Testament, in reference to the passages which they quote from the Old, are of importance in the discussion of the subject. The very passage, which we have been just considering, is introduced with the words, Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy the prophet.' Hence it has been inferred, that St Matthew, who quoted the passage, regarded it as a prophecy at least in some sense, since the use of the term 'fulfilled,' implies a prediction of that event in which it was fulfilled. And if in the opinion of an inspired Apostle any passage of the Old Testament was a prediction of that event to which he himself applied it, we must conclude, that such passage really was a prediction of that event, though we ourselves could not have discovered it. To diminish, however, the difficulties which we should still feel on such occasions, a distinction has been made by some Commentators, especially by Professor Dathe, in the Notes to his Latin translation of the Hebrew Bible, between quotations introduced with the formula, Then was fulfilled,' and quotations introduced with the formula, This was done that it might be fulfilled.' Though quotations therefore of the latter kind are quotations of prophecies, relating either in a primary or in a secondary sense, to those very events, to which they are applied, quotations of the former kind are supposed to have been intended for nothing more than what is called an accommodation, or an application of a passage to a corresponding event.' p. 84. This distinction, we are informed, has really a foundation in the practice of the Jews themselves. Surenhusius, in his third Thesis, De formulis allegandi, has quoted Rabbinical expressions corresponding to the expressions of the New Testament, "Then was fulfilled," and, "This was done that it might be ful"filled." The latter expression was only used with passages which were quoted by way of argument or proof. We venture, however, to question the reality of the distinction, as applied to the passages of the New Testament, in which these formulæ occur. The formula, "That it might be fulfilled," is applied by the Evangelist Matthew, (ch. ii. 15) to the words of Hosea (ch. xi. 1,) "Out of Egypt have I called my son;" which words are not part of a prophecy, but part of a description of the Divine attention and goodness towards the Israelites. The phrase, "That it might be fulfilled," as used by the Evangelist, in this connexion, appears to be precisely of the same import as the phrase," Then was fulfilled," as applied, by the same writer, to the passage in Jeremiah. In Matt. xiii. 35, the formula, "That it might be fulfilled," is applied to a passage in the xlix. Psalm, "I will open my mouth in para"bles; I will utter things which have been kept secret from "the foundation of the world." Does the formula, "That it "might be fulfilled," in this example, imply a prophetic character in the words cited from the composition of Asaph, or must it be limited to the sense of accommodation? Accom'modations,' says Jortin, are passages of the Old Testament, which are adapted by the writers of the New, to something that happened in their time, because of some correspondence and similitude. These are no prophecies, though they are 'said sometimes to be fulfilled; for any thing may be said to 'be fulfilled, when it can be pertinently applied. For example, St. Matthew says, All these things spake Jesus unto 'the multitudes in parables, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, saying, I will open my mouth in 'parables, I will utter things which have been kept secret from the foundation of the world. The meaning is apparently no more than this, that what the Psalmist said of his way of teaching, might justly be said of those discourses of Christ. Remarks, Vol. I. p. 125. 6 We are disposed to adopt this explanation; and if it is correct, the difference in meaning between the modes of quotation which the Professor endeavours to establish, is not admissible, since we find the strongest formula applied to a case of accommodation. Art. III.-Amusements in Retirement; or, the Influence of Science, nearly three years since. We are sorry to learn, from a short advertisement, purporting to be written by an Editor,' which it is proper to transcribe, that the interval between the two publications has been to the Writer a season of much less happiness than that in which he composed the former of them. The following pages were written by the Author of "The Philosophy of Nature; or, the Influence of Scenery on the Mind and Heart." This observation is made for the purpose of inducing the reader to compare the one work with the other: the former having been written during a period of high mental enjoyment; while the present operated as a refuge and a sanctuary, during a period of great and complicated difficulty. Most works take a tincture from the circumstances under which they were composed; and as it is not often that the reader, or the critic, has an opportunity of comparing a writer so immediately with himself, under circumstances involving a contrast of so marked a character, the Editor hesitates not to express a hope, that, if any merit belong to either, the two works may constantly be found in the society of each other.' It is not indicated exactly what instruction will arise to the reader from this comparison. And should his object be amusement, he will not perhaps, in beholding a violent contrast of moods in the same person, mental day and night, summer and winter, youth and age, brought close together, and directly opposite characters and estimates thrown on the very same subjects as contemplated and exhibited under the influence of these contrasted states of feeling, find quite so stimulant a play of self-contradiction as he may have anticipated. Certainly there is a slightly perceptible difference of tone, this latter work betraying a degree of pensiveness not characteristic of the former: it is something like, though something less than, the difference between June and September. But the resemblance is in other respects so striking and complete, and the qualities in which that resemblance is manifest, are so intrinsic and peculiar, that the accidental difference is incomparably less than the substantial likeness. The work is thrown into a few general divisions, under the titles of Happiness in general-the Liberal Arts,_ comprising Architecture, Sculpture and Painting, and Music-LiteratureScience. Under each of these the Table of Contents recounts an extended series of particulars, a very large proportion of them indicatively marked and decorated with proper names. But the readers of this Author's former work, will not be led by any ostensible form of arrangement, to expect a strict order in the train of topics or thoughts. And indeed no reader would exaot a very rigid method in a work of such a title and of so general purport. Nevertheless, we should be afraid that all the readers will be disposed to complain of the excessive desultoriness which scarcely permits them a steady fixed look at the object. The composition will remind many of them of that glimpsing, dancing appearance, which they have often seen when a gleam of the declining sun, thrown through the window on the wall of the apartment, has been the field for the irregular incessant play of the shadows of shrubs or twigs moved by the wind, with the addition, perhaps, of the quivering effect of the reflection from water. A very pretty and amusing spectre this, to look at; but it would not very long satisfy the eye that has been taught to seek defined and permanent pictures and views. It would seem that the Author's mind, roving among a great variety of topics familiar and interesting to him, had indulged itself a little while in musing on each, rather than thinking,, in a very rigorous sense of that word;-that, without any effort to link his ideas, or to make them proceed in any train of close relation to one another, or to ascertain very nicely their correctness individually, or to adjust them all to bear toward a definite purpose, he had accepted every suggestion, and fancy, and proposition, that spontaneously presented itself, within a small space of time, relative to one matter, and then to another, in a long and irregular succession; and that during this pleasant mental vagrancy he had contrived to throw on paper, by an instantaneous action, all these miscellaneous hints and images. If he has sometimes compared one of his sections with a portion of the composition of any of the good authors who have been the best disciplined to the business of thinking and writing, he will not have failed to observe a striking difference between the ordered, compacted, and determinately directed series of their ideas and sentences, and the loose, casual, volitant course of his own. And could there have been brought to him, to read, a portion of some other author's composition, written exactly in his own manner, he would have been sensible sometimes of a difficulty of saying positively what was the precise effect aimed at in a series of sentences or paragraphs. He would have sometimes paused to ask, Why is this said? and why is this said next?---and now, at the end of the chapter, what is it that I am taught? ---It should always be possible to answer these simple questions. And the difficulty not unfrequently encountered in the attempt to do this during the perusal of our Author's pages, convicts him, we think, to say the least, of a culpable carelessness, of an excessive indulgence to a certain freakishness of mind which sets at nought the established critical legislation of literature, and yet will all the while maintain a most provokingly easy seeming of innocence. If a writer of a perfectly ordinary cast of mind were to work in this lawless manner, it is obvious that the production would be altogether worthless, for either instruction or amusement. But no one will think of applying such a description to the present Author, whose mind is prominently distinguished by great peculiarity of constitution and operation. The things he is continually throwing and sparkling out, attract attention, even if they mock it. The quick sensibility, flighty fancy, and endless literary recollections and associations displayed in his rhapsodies, keep us actively blown and sported about among mental elements, even if we cannot lay positive satisfactory hold on substantial intellectual forms. In quest of sober company and converse, we are beguiled, though sometimes a little fretted, by a swarm of fantastic sprites of thought. Nor must it be denied that we have sometimes very just remarks, very pleasing sentiments, and images that are apposite as well as brilliant. What we complain of is, a sometimes false brilliance, extravagant sentiment, and a deficiency of plan and intellectual process. In short, the reader concludes the perusal of the book, with a very distinct consciousness that he has not been so much in a school for thinking, as at a kind of opera, at which too he doubts whether he has been fully awake all the time, as there lingers upon his senses a certain baffling something, very like the remains of the stuff that dreams are made of.' Sometimes a paragraph or a page consists almost exclusively of a succession of historical facts, and biographical notices, often bearing only a very general relation to the subject in hand; though occasionally illustrating a particular view of it, and confirming some opinion advanced concerning it. Sometimes the slightest imaginable relation suffices for a warrant for the introduction of some of the Author's prodigious store of facts and names. When they present themselves, as they are sure to do in crowds whichever way he turns, he seems unwilling to give them the trouble of a question whether they can render a specific service or not. The terms of their admittance are as wide and free as possible; he has fallen into a transient acquaintance with them in some part of his very wide tour of literature, and that is enough; his levee is open to all peoples, nations and lan'guages.' And here it is proper to remark, that in this assemblage and multitude of things, evincing the Author's very ample literary knowledge, there is no appearance of pedantry or ostentation. His numberless references are in the manner of a person so really fraught with the diversities of literature, that they overflow and emanate without his intending it; of a person so surrounded and crowded by recollections, that he is absolutely obliged to speak the names of a number of them, that they may, as it were, stand out of the way for him to go on. Even the things that not unfrequently appear far-fetched, do not appear as if introduced to shew how far the Author could fetch them; they merely seem to come through too loose a principle of association, a want of those strict rules of analogy, and of the intellectual habits formed upon those rules, which would have judged and felt those aliens of thought inapplicable to the immediate service. The readers of this volume will perceive that the operations and excursive reach of the Author's mind, are not rigidly bounded by a definitive line, as would seem to be the case with some of the men of the intellectual vocation, who appear very fully masters of the ground to a certain limit, but beyond it have nothing, and attempt nothing,-have not even a gap in the boundary to make one step through, nor a crevice in it to look through. As |