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the price forbade us purchasing (as it doubtless did many others) the three volumes of My Uncle the Curate, and we have been contented to read it and Reuben Medlicott through the medium of a circulating-library. We have not space or time to enter into an argument on the subject, but merely express our conviction that both the latter works would be more generally read if published in one volume.

In Reuben Medlicott, Mr. Savage proves the truth of Hilario's aphorism, in Massinger's now neglected but once admired play, The Picture, "that a good wit makes use of all things;" for retracing his steps he has divided the work into nine books, after the manner of the immortal Fielding, and catching some of Thackeray's shrewdness, without his ill-nature, he has, happily, availed himself of one of the cant phrases of the day as a second title to his volumes-The Coming Man. The very name is enough to make it sell; for that much spoken of individual has been "looming in the future" to our certain knowledge for the last ten years at least. Indeed, all this author's novels have well-chosen titles, and what a pub lisher calls selling ones. He is nearly as fortunate in this respect as Dickens, who seems to have become a perfect Burke's Peerage of attractive titles, as the pages of Household Words and his successive novels abundantly testify. Now that the Coming Man is presented to us by Mr. Savage, we must hastily glance over his history; and the most perfect portrait we meet with is the Dean. In fact, we are perfectly sure that rumour, with her thousand tongues, will declare that Dean Wyndham is nobody but the Dean of Certainly that talented and distinguished man is as much renowned for his conversational as for his controversial powers; but though he may be like, in some respects, to Mr. Savage's fictitious Dean, he is very unlike in others. As we said before, we do not believe that the author of the Falcon Family paints from individuals, but rather from classes; and we have no doubt that he would make use of Le Sage's declaration, prefixed to the veritable history of that prince of scamps, Gil Blas, "I publicly own that my purpose is to represent life as we find it; but, God forbid, that I should undertake to delineate any man in par

ticular," but, be that as it may, we cannot do better than extract a passage in which the clever, lively, but rather inconsistent, dignitary appears. It must be premised that the Dean has made a descent on Reuben's quarters in Cambridge, and delivered a regular Phillipic to the hero, on the study of the law; but relenting, he invited his grandson and one of his college friends to walk with him.

To listen reve

In the course of the day, he strolled about a great deal with the two young men, like some peripatetic philosopher with his pupils dangling after him. rentially to Doctor Wyndham, receiving everything that fell from his lips as if it were honey from Hybla or gold of Ophir, was an infallible receipt for keeping him in good humour; and it was sometimes well worth while to pay him this sort of homage, for when he was serene and pleased with his company, no man discoursed more instructively or more entertainingly, and, for young men, his conversation was particularly improving. On the present occasion, after making some excellent remarks upon debating societies, and balancing their adVantages and dangers with great shrewdness and discrimination, he talked largely and eloquently on the profession of the law, returning in good humour to the subject which he had handled shortly before in so termagant a fashion. His fluency, vigour, and knowledge of life, surprised and delighted Primrose, who was now in his company for the first time. The Dean recurred to his idea of the bull-dog, and when he heard that Primrose was designed for the bar, he breed in him. hoped he had a dash of that pugnacious " is nothing

"A lawyer," he repeated, without it; he wants it every day of his life, either to bully a witness, beard a judge, wrangle with his brethren, or thrust his own views of the case down the throats of the jury.”

Primrose ventured to say that something of the spaniel seemed often to be a very useful element in the lawyer's character.

"The Crown-lawyers, for instance," said the Dean, approving of Primrose's remark ;

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but what say you to a cross between the the best dog of all." bull-dog and spaniel, perhaps that would be

"I think, sir," said Reuben, modestly, a dog of that breed would make a good attorney-general."

"Very well," said the Dean, poking his grandson in the ribs with the end of his stick; "very well, indeed;-and now, let us go to dinner."

Among the many shrewd and sensible sayings of the worthy and brilliant

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Character is to an individual what position is to a general. The world asks who a man is before it gives an audience, or at least before it hears him a second time. We must not only take thought what we say, but from whence we say it. Even in society, the prosperity of a jest depends upon the consideration of the man who makes it, often upon his place at the table. Young men ought to reflect upon this, and take more pains to make themselves respected than admired.

ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN.

Aim at being a great man; there is something great in even failing to become great. Encourage the passions that lead to greatness; there are three of them love of business, love of reputation, love of power. But if you would be a good man, which is better than being a great one, you must love two others besides, you must love truth and you must love mankind.

ENERGY.

Keep doing, always doing, and whatever you do, do it with all your heart, soul, and strength. Wishing, dreaming, intending, murmuring, talking, sighing, and repining, are all idle and profitless employments. The only manly occupation is to keep doing. I have been often told by wiseacres that building was a ruinous taste; and it is true of one kind of building-of castles in the air-a sort of castles that I never built. If I am a good example for anything, it is for energy. I study with energy, I exercise with energy, I sleep and eat with energy.

DIGESTION AND CONSCIENCE.

Dine like a man, sir. I don't approve of your dainty, dastardly eaters; I don't like the man who does not like his dinner; that's

one of my maxims. He may be honest, but I am not sure of it. When I don't see a good appetite, I am apt to suspect there is a bad digestion; and I cannot help connecting that with something amiss in the moral organisation. We are compound beings; we are not all body, neither are we all mind. The stomach and the conscience have a close affinity, take my word for it.

We sate down to Reuben Medlicott in the spirit advised in the argument prefixed to the fifth book of the history, and we were pleased in proportion; the episode of the sermon on conscience is worthy of the author of Tristram Shandy, and the worthy vicar is exquisitely drawn.

The hero of this novel loses many an occasion of establishing himself in life, from neglecting present opportunities and dreaming about the future. Bacon, in his essay on delays, following, doubtless, the excellent epigram of Posidippus, or borrowing from some other author, says, that Opportunity has hair on the front of his head, to be seized when met, but bald behind, for, when once past, men wish and sigh in vain to catch him. If Reuben, amougst his many readings, had recollected this, it would have been better for him, and we would not have had the sad, but over true tale contained in these volumes.

We think that we have said enough, even in this rapid glance, to prove that Mr. Savage is entitled to take a high rank among modern novelists, both as an accurate delineator of social life, and as a quiet, good-humoured satirist of the follies and vices of the day. We hail him as another Irish author, whose name will be added hereafter to the bright roll which records the varied labours and different successes of a Goldsmith, a Swift, and an Edgeworth!

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NORTHERN MAGAZINE.

No. X.

DECEMBER, 1852.

VOL. I.

LOCA AM CENA.

We do not consider it foreign to the purposes of this Magazine to draw at tention to the subject of public improvements, and say a word or two on the matter. In one of Mr. Helps' delightful Essays, he says, "The substantial improvement, and even the embellishment of towns, is a work which both the central and local governing bodies in a country should keep a steady hand upon. It especially becomes them. What are they for but to do that which individuals cannot do? It concerns them, too, as it tells upon the health, morals, education, and refined pleasures of the people they govern. In doing it, they should avoid pedantry, parsimony, and favouritism; and their mode of action should be large, foreseeing, and considerate."-Friends in Council, p. 196. And, again (in p. 197), he observes," Public money is scarcely ever so well employed as in securing bits of waste ground, and keeping them as open spaces. Then, as under the most favourable circumstances, we are likely to have too much carbon in the air of any town, we should plant trees, and restore the first proportions of the air as far as we can. Trees are also what the heart and the eye desire most in towns."

We cannot conceive there can be a second opinion on the subject, that open spaces in a town contribute largely to the health of the inhabitants, and that the overcrowding with buildings has precisely an opposite effect; and if so, how is it that, around and about us, we see large blocks of warehouses, mills, and residences planted, and no endeavours on the part of the munici

pal body to secure the as yet unbuilt ground, and devote it to the recreation and pleasure of the people? We have often lamented the selfishness of owners of property in this respect; the anxiety to make the most of their possession, to have the greatest number of dwellings in the smallest conceivable space, and to entirely forget considerations affecting the health or happiness of the occupiers. Let any one go through some of the streets which have grown around the large mills in the neighbourhood of Belfast, and he will admire, in one or two instances, the equality of the buildings, and the uniformity of character they possess; let him, however, take the residue, and he will wonder that men passing the scene daily could tolerate such masses of inanimate ugliness. The whole range of field-ground bounding Sandy Row and the Falls Road is literally covering with brick; and a locality which, notwithstanding its contiguity to a public nuisance, afforded excellent materials for a public park, will, in the course of a year or so, be hardly a breathing place. It is not merely the closing up these spaces that we observe on, for that is more or less unavoidable, but it is the hideous shapes and forms of human habitations that meet one's view. The worker in the mill goes to his daily toil, and his eye is never relieved by a passing glance at a thing of beauty; the dull monotony of his wearied nature is never gladdened by a stately object, or varied by a handsome piece of architecture; life flows on in its sluggish way, and the man becomes morose and sullen. Why might there not be, in front

of these ranges of houses, clumps of trees to remind one of a something outside the town? Why should the municipal bodies not control owners of property in the formation of streets or lanes? It would be unjust, in treating of this matter, not to acknowledge, that the Belfast Corporation have done something to remedy a crying evil, and that the sweeping away the pollutions of the lanes and streets in the neighbourhood of the quays has conferred a lasting benefit on the town.

That locality in itself furnishes a conclusive test as to the necessity of adopting protective measures in these matters; for no one can now walk along that really fine length of quay-wall to the Prince's Dock, without feeling the influence of fresh air and of open spaces. Then, why should this not be also in the neighbourhood where the toilers and the spinners dwell? Why should men, realising and having realised large fortunes, be allowed to trade on the health of their labourers, and stud the ground with unshapely piles of brick and mortar? Again, it is the same expense to build a neat and uniform row of houses as the same quantity in an ugly and confused mass; and when it relieves both the eye and heart, why should there not be spaces left in these neighbourhoods, where, after a day's labour, the people might meet, without the fear of poor Joe's injunction in their ear, "Move

on."

We are aware that this subject has been already brought before our fellowtownsmen, in a paper read before the Belfast Social Inquiry Society, by James Thomson, Esq., C.E., and that the necessity of a public park was strongly urged by that gentleman; but six months have passed, and nothing seems to have been done further in the matter.

This is not as it should be. We are proud, and justly so, of our town, but we dislike the system of continually praising ourselves and never censuring, and therefore we trust that the valuable suggestions offered by Drs. Malcolm and M'Cormac, as to the improvement of our sanitary condition, may be at once most promptly and efficiently carried out, and that they may be preludes to

our having public walks and parks suited to our exigencies.*

It is not at this time necessary to dilate on the effect of beautiful objects on the human mind. We know that they operate with a beneficial influence, and that, even in a utilitarian point of view, they are not without their advantages; for, if we mistake not, some of the handsomest of designs owe their invention to Corinthian or Doric architecture. But, waiving the utility question, why should not large manufacturing towns have their ornamental buildings, their statues of great men, and their parks, as well as the metropolis? and would it not be a graceful act, if some of the honourable men, whose industry and energy have made Belfast what it is, were to bestow, either by gift or will, a portion of their earnings for some such purpose? Why, for example, should there not be in Belfast a statue of the Duke of Wellington? Not for his victories, memorable though they were not for his statesmanship, manly though it was-not for his being Irish born, proud as we may be of that fact in our annals-but for his continued regard of duty, for his unfaltering energy of purpose-for his resolute perseverance. As Mr. D'Israeli has well said of him :

66

Duty thine only idol, and serene,

When all are troubled; in the utmost need Prescient; thy country's servant ever seen, Yet sovereign of thyself whate'er may speed.'

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With regard to the poet of our country, Moore, we have already, in a previous number, suggested the propriety of erecting a statue to perpetuate his fame in some conspicuous part of our town, where it would be a graceful tribute to his genius, and an ornament to Belfast.

We have hopes that these projects may be realised, and that some locally influential persons may set the example in the matter. At present, we would but press on the public the importance of opinion being brought to bear on the buildings and the streets, and that something like the "places” of the Continent should be occasionally seen amid the heavy dullness of our large towns. Indeed, it has before now occurred to us, that if by any accident

*See Drs. Malcolm and M'Cormac's papers, read before the British Association, and published by the Belfast Social Inquiry Society.

we should find ourselves in the House
of Commons, as member for some im-
maculate borough, it would be among
the first illustrations of our legislation
to propose, that, out of the municipal
funds of every borough, a sum should
be allotted for the cultivation of public'
music, and that, in the summer evenings
we might have the gratification of see-
ing multitudes assembled in some com-
mon property locality, listening to the
ballad music of our native land; and
though we may abandon the hope of
being "in the House," we cannot forego
the pleasure of the imagination of such
a scene. In truth, our better nature is
deteriorated by the want of opportuni-
ties for recreation. We may read books,

and half their advantage and pleasure is lost, because the frame of mind in which we peruse them is not an equable one. We are fretted with our daily labour, and we have no resting-place for thought. There is painted before us some vision of green fields, waving trees, and fragrant air-but where are we to realise it? Everything around is brick, stone, and lime; and assuredly the social state is not benefitted by the absence from amongst us of the soft sod to remind us of childhood's springy bound, or of the stately trees to aid in the preservation of a purer atmosphere. The sooner the public deal with these things the better.

THE OAKWOODS OF OAKWOOD;
OR, THE DAYS OF WILLIAM THE THIRD.

CHAPTER XII. THE PRINCE SETS SAIL-THE LANDING AT TORBAY.
"Heaven's favourite, for whom the skies do fight,
And all the winds conspire to guide him right.'

"What gratitude can speak

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Quoted in BURNET'S HISTORY.

Fit words to follow such a deed as this."

THE Prince of Orange had parted from the States of Holland in an impressive and solemn address, and yet his firmness had not given way in that most touching scene, when the guardians of his infancy, the counsellors of his youth, the companions of his manhood, crowded around him, with friendly prayers for his welfare and tears for his departure. He was one of those great souls which, like the aloe, blooms but once in a century, and, once seen and known, is never to be forgotten. The fleet set sail. William, in the frigate named the "Brill," hoisted his standard, now displaying the glorious motto suggested by Henry Oakwood, whose manly heart beat high, and throbbed with pleasure, as he watched its broad, silken, heavy folds swept out into the wintry air by the Protestant wind at Helvoetsluys, on the 19th October 1688, and heard the shouts of the army as the great fleet spread their canvass to the favouring breeze which bore their longed-for succour to the shores of Englaud.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

As he paced the deck of the "Princess Mary," which he had retained for his own accommodation, Oakwood mused over his late adventure, and gazed, with a feeling both sad and bitter, upon the well-known ring. "Fidelity," he repeated to himself, as he looked on it. "Fidelity! Is this Fidelity?" And he tortured his mind in the vain endeavour to account for the appearance of the jewel in the old house in the Hague. "Could Lady Sackville have given it to a stranger; or could Florence, who so often wore it, have been despoiled of it by a robber?" These, and a thousand kindred fancies, swept through his mind, as, in the gray of evening, borne on by a steady, favouring wind, his little vessel followed close upon the lights of the "Brill,” already ahead of the rest of the fleet; but soon the gathering shades called him to the necessary duties of the night, which, wild and stormy, threatened danger to his vessel.

The wind had changed; and, as if to try their faith and temper, their pa

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