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Leibnitz, alluding to the death of Queen Anne, adds of her successor, that "the Elector of Hanover united under his dominion an electorate, the three kingdoms of Great Britain, Leibnitz and Newton."

The compliments paid by Edmund Burke, partook of the sublime and beautiful, and may also come under the head of splendid, When dining in company with Miss Burney, whose celebrity at that time was unrivalled, he observed, "We have had an age for statesmen, an age for heroes, an age for poets, an age for artists, but this," bowing down with an air of obsequious gallantry, his head almost upon the table-cloth, "this is the age for women."

Dr. Johnson's compliments, too, were of a highly characteristic nature-one such instance occurs to me. After having heard an account of the early life of Hannah More and her sisters, he exclaimed, "I love you all five. I never was at Bristol. I will come on purpose to see you. What! five women to live happily together! I will come and see you!"

Generally speaking, the Doctor's compliments were of the most judicious kind, and times without number have they been the means of setting the timid mind at ease, and of encouraging real merit; and he possessed the art of paying them with so much genuine kindness, particularly to the young, that it is impossible to be acquainted with this trait in his character, from the accounts of those who were fostered by its benignant influence, without feeling a sort of filial affection for him.

Compliments, on the whole, deserve a better character than they sustain among sensible people in general. I know a young physician who gained an extensive practice by understanding the art of paying judicious compliments; one old lady's heart he secured by lend

ing a willing ear to infallible remedies that she had met with, in the course of her own experience; and he was finally left a legacy of her receipt-book, in conjunction with a considerable annuity.

A man can never expect to make his way in society without possessing a little of that alchemy of manner which can accommodate itself to minds of every grade. This was well understood by Dr. Johnson, when he observed, " Mrs. Thrale said of me what flattered me much." A clergyman was complaining of want of society in the country, and said, "they talk of runts," (that is young cows). 'Sir," rejoined Mrs. Thrale, "Dr. Johnson would learn to talk of runts," meaning that I was a man who would make the most of my situation, wherever it was: he added, "I think myself a polite man."

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For thus accommodating ourselves to the society in which we may be compelled to mingle, much higher authority can be quoted. "I am made," said the apostle of the Gentiles, "all things to all men, that I might, by all means, save some;" and how forcibly did he adapt his language to the feelings of the people of Athens, even taking their ancient idolatry as a text for leading them to a knowledge of the truth, and remembering their devoted love of literature, he instructs them in the words of one of their own venerated poets.

Hence it is evident that the spirit of Christianity dictates the true politeness which is absolutely necessary to the wellbeing of society. If it were brought into general practice, all party animosity would cease, and we should find it possible for each of us, conscientiously and steadfastly, to maintain our opinions, religious and political, without offence, however we may differ from those around us, were our minds sufficiently imbued with that "charity which thinketh no evil."

Our Study.

SCENE. The study; the tea-table drawn out. FELIX at the fire reading. Enter CRITICUS.

FELIX.-Well, my dear fellow, I have been expecting you this half hour. Here is the "Northern" in full bloom, and a pile of newspapers reviewing it, which I have been studying for our improvement; and for some good hints in them I feel much obliged.

CRITICUS.-Yes; we escaped wonderfully.

FELIX.-Let us hope for the same good fortune always. reading since I saw you last?

What have you been

CRITICUS. Indeed I have been very idle in that line. I am afraid I can contribute little to your chit-chat to-night. Have you seen " Carlyle's Life of Sterling.' I saw it so much reviewed, that I was tempted to read it; but honestly must confess, was disappointed.

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FELIX.-Carlyle, you know, is no favourite of mine; there is an affectation of outré style about everything he writes, which always offends me ; and his unmusical sentences, without flow or grace of expression, must be harsh to your sensitive ear. I had to persuade our friend Prudentius, the other day, not to review this "Life of Sterling" in the " Northern," as I considered quite too much had been said about it already.

CRITICUS.-Oh! Prudentius on Carlyle. Two such different minds. You did right; we did not want the article.

FELIX.-Even though a "Sterling" one.

CRITICUS.-Disgraceful pun! you are incorrigible, Felix. Remember Doctor

Johnson.

FELIX.-Come, no hackneyed quotations; I have made a silent resolution against them. When I quote for the future, you will be puzzled to find the author; it will be an exercise for your wits.

CRITICUS. But you must not invent, to supply a deficiency. No unknown poet, meaning yourself; no obscure writer, as Master Felix; no ancient dramatist, as your new manuscript book. No, no! I won't allow such tricks. FELIX. [In mock indignation.]—Did you suspect me of it?

CRITICUS. [Laughingly.]—A truce to badinage, will you let us have tea; "the cup

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FELIX-Hacknied. Beware!

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[Enter PRUDENTIUS.] "Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors.' CRITICUS.-Prudentius, did you ever hear of Profession and Practice; Felix has read me a lecture on hacknied quotations, and you scarcely appeared before he fired off one at you,

FELIX.-Well! well! it all arose from a pun, and I am sure I have suffered enough for it. Prudentius, we were discussing your friend Carlyle when you came in, and declaring you should not be permitted to hammer at his devoted head next month.

PRUDENTIUS.-Content. I have no fancy for the task now, I am astonished to see the book so much read.

FELIX. The name carries it off. People have talked one another into admiration of the mongrel English of Carlyle, and his German absurdities go down like gospel.

CRITICUS.-May I venture to ask for the tea?

[Rings.]

[Having established themselves round the table, the friends grow chatty.]

FELIX.-Have you read the "Bleak House," by Dickens? It is capital: the story opens gracefully and well, and one enters its enchanted portal with a halfdetermined feeling of allowing the shadowy figures, which fill the interior, leave to establish themselves unquestioned in the quiet chambers of your memoryEsther Summerson has already lodged in mine.

CRITICUS. The ramifications of a Chancery suit, the different interests affected, the dissimilar people brought together by it, which I take it, will be the groundwork of the story, afford excellent themes for a pen so earnest and so truthful as Charles Dickens'.

PRUDENTIUS. The sketches of Lady Dedlock and her Husband are inimitable; and though I have heard people say that Mrs. Jelliby was overdrawn, I can't agree with them. Dickens is certainly a man of rare power and genius.

FELIX. I have often reflected over the many authors. with whom you become acquainted through the medium of their writings. Some we drop after the first introduction is over; with others, the intimacy is more cultivated, yet never ripens into actual friendship; while, with a few, a very few, we alone enjoy that unrestrained confidence which is the foundation of a friendship for life, and we hail every new work of theirs with the same delight with which we greet a long

expected letter from a dear and distant friend. To this number belongs Dickens, the most universally beloved and generally appreciated writer of the day.

PRUDENTIUS.-I marvel not at his success: his quick sympathies are readily enlisted on the side of suffering humanity, while his sense of the ludicrous is so keen, that life is pictured truthfully in his pages; we laugh and weep alternately. I know no writer like him.

FELIX. To but one can I compare him, and that one is Oliver Goldsmith; he has the same genial appreciation of the Beautiful in the every-day affairs of life; he has the same exquisite feeling for virtuous poverty; he is the same goodhumoured, good-natured and kindly wit, ruling by love and smiles, rather than by fear and frowns; now broadly humourous, now touchingly mournful. Goldsmith is the only parallel to Dickens, or, rather, his germ.

CRITICUS.-I have heard you call him the poet of the day; I suppose from his sense of the Ideal pervading the scenes of the Real.

FELIX.-Yes. I have gone over his "Old Curiosity Shop" lately again, and linking that tale together, I find sixteen exquisite and perfect poems; some magnificent, you will find one of this class in the fifteenth chapter; some dramatic, as in chapter thirty, and all beautiful. I would recommend you to read the book with this view, and it will repay perusal more than ever.

FELIX.-By the bye, our chat has been set down as too varied—and I got a lecture the other day about dwelling more on each book.

CRITICUS.-Why, that would not be conversation, but essays spoken out, which would be absurd, I think.

PRUDENTIUS.-So do I. Let the critics take our chat just as it comes. One advantage it has, it is more natural.

FELIX-Little do they think of what desultory talk a group of young men chatting about literary matters ramble into. The Highways as well as the Byways are trodden by us.

CRITICUS.-I hear your friend, Mr. Helps, is in Spain at present, collecting materials for his "Conquerors of the New World and their Bondsmen."

FELIX.-I am glad of it. Here is a little book in his school-" Visiting My Relations"-published by Pickering. It is quaint, but natural and pleasing, and one may read it with profit.

CRITICUS. This "Jew of Denmark" I see here-can it be the same as "Jacob Bendixen"?

FELIX.-Yes; Mrs. Howitt brings it out in an expensive form, under the latter title, and Mrs. Bushby calls it the "Jew of Denmark," and gives it to us for a shilling. It is a curious picture of the domestic life of a singular people; and though improbable in some of its Polish incidents, yet, as a whole, is interesting and more instructive than the usual run of novels; but I don't think it will be as much liked in England as the delightful home pictures which Miss Bremer gives us of Swedish life. There is rather too much detail in "Jacob Bendixen" to allow it to rank as a first-rate novel here; yet Goldschmidt's “En Jode" is much celebrated in Copenhagen.

CRITICUS.-I have not read it, only glanced over it, therefore cannot pronounce on its merits; but, as far as I saw of it, your remarks are just.

FELIX. [Tossing over a heap of books.]-There, I have overthrown a mighty pile. The three volumes of "Walpole's Ansayrii," rather pleasant, but too much spun out, and quite too dear; "Roebuck's Whig Administration of 1830," which I will not touch lest I get my fingers burned, though it is a most valuable contribution to recent history, and well deserves notice; "Memoirs of Sarah Fuller," quite too mystical for me, though interesting and picturesque in some places; and last of the heap-dear, delightful Miss Mitford's "Recollections of a Literary Life," charming and simple, as everything by the amiable authoress of "Our Village" ever is and will be.

CRITICUS.-Stop, or you will be out of breath, and you have plenty of work before you yet, if I may judge from all these MSS.

[Exeunt CRITICUS and PRUDENTIUS; FELIX opens his desk,

and scene closes.]

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NORTHERN MAGAZINE.

No. III.

MAY, 1852.

THE OAKWOODS OF OAKWOOD;

OR, THE DAYS OF WILLIAM THE THIRD.

VOL. I.

CHAPTER I.-THE MANSION HOUSE AND ITS INMATES.

TRISTAN.-The mansion rising through-how beautiful!
Half hid with ivy and the clambering rose!
-And yet its inmates?

A LONG, bright summer day was near the close; the sun had almost sunk behind the hills, which it flooded with tremulous waves of purple light, and the myriads of insects called forth by the heat of the season rose in columnar masses above the trees, and waved to and fro in the slight breeze, which scarcely stirred the leaves below, with an uncertain and indistinct motion, as if about to yield up their lives and cease their brief existence at the approach of the night. A thickly wooded glen, in one of the most southerly counties of Ireland, with its gently sloping sides covered by the dark oak and waving birch trees, seemed as if overhung with a cloud of these ephemeral creatures, who threw their dusky spiral foldings alike above the green trees and over the little streamlet which gushed and sparkled through the centre of the glen; and, as Henry Oakwood paused on the brow of the hill to look down, their fantastic movements seemed to him to resemble great armies engaged in battle.

Musing, he stood for some time, ere he descended the winding path which led along the side of the glen to the grounds of Oakwood, and, still reflecting, he pursued his way, until, after passing through a close copse, he entered the straight and formal avenue which was the grand approach to the mansion house. Built at different periods, and

King Rene's Daughter, by Henrick Hertz.

by men of very different minds, who in their architectural fancies seemed to shadow forth themselves, Oakwood House was irregularly picturesque, striking and stately. Its left wing consisted of a square keep or tower, of the Norman style, with its massive walls, small narrow windows, and grey frowning aspect, recalling the early struggles of the now forgotten English baron to whom the surrounding country had been granted by the English monarch after the first conquest of Ireland, and reminding one of the repeated incursions and attacks of his native neighbours, which the Norman had to repel. This castle, built of the usual grey limestone of the country, seemed still in good repair, and communicated with the regular house, which was of the style that we call Elizabethean. It had been erected by Giles Oakwood, the founder of the family, in the days of good Queen Bess, after the forfeited lands had been again regranted by the crown, and Elizabeth had attempted to colonise the South of Ireland with her English subjects, by tempting alike their ambition and their avarice. To the right, a new wing seemed lately to have been added, in the style of which we have so beautiful an example in Whitehall; but this, evidently, from its general aspect, only consisted of some reception rooms, and had been erected in the early part of the reign of Charles

the Second, by Sir Frederick Oakwood, knighted immediately after the Restoration.

From a broad sweep before the door, a succession of grassy terraces led to the low ground of the park, which, dotted with groups of trees, and patches of tall waving ferns, in which you saw the dappled fallow-deer lying half-hidden, swept to the sea beach about half a mile from the house. The trees had been thinned, to afford to the windows of Oakwood one of these magnificent views which succeed each other with scarcely an interruption on our south coast. The broad blue ocean lay stretched before, with all the bold cliffs and hills of the coast standing out in relief against the white-fringed sky, broken into bays, creeks, and gulleys; the undulating and irregular line of coast exhibited the greatest diversity of scenery: now could the gazer's eye rest on some sweep of white and shining sand, and again on some dark, frowning precipice, jutting out into the waves. On this bright and beautiful panorama did Henry Oakwood gaze, as he stood on one of the terraces near the house, and watched the white sails of a ship, as they sparkled in the dying light of the summer's day.

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to him with a white scarf which she had taken from her neck, and repeated her eager salutation

"I think I see a sail now, Henry. Come and look from the turrets, and you will have a much better view."

"I must be quick, then," he replied, "if I mean to see anything, for the light is fading fast ;" and, so saying, he entered the house, but soon re-appeared beside the ladies on the castle.

Far to sea, he could barely discern a speck, which he had not noticed from the lower ground, but his most anxious gaze and eager scrutiny could not make out what the vessel might be, though his sister assured him it was the English packet, which monthly brought them letters from the other country, and whose arrival they were now expecting; and she turned to her companion to ask for her assent to her opinion, but without success.

"I really think, Lucy, you are wrong. I have been watching the ship for some time, and it seems to me to be quite of a foreign build. If Henry had been here while the light was good, he might have been able to decide the question; as it is, we must wait until the morning for the solution of our doubt."

The owner of Oakwood, who, in the lovely scene before him, had well-nigh The speaker was a tall, graceful girl, forgotten the troubles on which he had of nineteen or twenty summers, with been reflecting, was a young man of long waving curls of golden brown hair, some five-and-twenty, or thereabouts, not disfigured by powder, or tortured by but looking two or three years older. A the art of the friseur, but hanging in rich character of gravity, or rather pensive- profusion down her neck. Her bright ness, was the pervading shade over a blue eyes, clear complexion, and small tolerably handsome face; and his dark mouth were her Saxon dowry, and her claret-colour coat, but slightly laced, the graceful figure, which the loose dress of waistcoat, with its large flaps of the the period, though it partly concealed, same, the long boots, and the sombre- did not altogether destroy, contrasted hilted sword, added to the seriousness of with the neat, lively, and little Lucy his appearance. For the rest, his brow Oakwood, who stood beside her. In the was lofty and thoughtful, and his eyes hall of Oakwood now hangs a picture of dark and full of feeling; perhaps, in the the two fair girls, the one we have alexpression of his mouth there was more ready attempted to describe, and Lucy of contemplation than of action, and the latter, is there represented as a men hastily might set him down rather merry, brown-haired, hazel-eyed girl, as a dreamer than a worker, but those with a smiling yet thoughtful expreswho did so, wronged the strength and sion on her young face; at her feet energy of his character, which gained in lies a little dog of the King Charles meditation, the abilities which it dis- breed, then so fashionable, and in her played in action. hand she holds a fan, with which she appears to be laughingly and playfully correcting her companion. Such was the group that Henry Oakwood had joined on the turret; and now, seating themselves on the cannon which de

Henry," said a voice, clear, ringing, and joyful; and, as Oakwood turned, he perceived, standing on one of the turrets of the old castle, two slight girlish forms, looking out to sea; one waved

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