"The grant of the charter of Henry VIII. contemplated the existence of only one species of examining board in England, and to this simple and excellent principle legislation will perhaps act wisely to return, expanding it merely to suit the altered circumstances of the times, and carefully guarding it against abuse. At present, the surgeons practise physic, which was not the case at that early period, therefore a single examining board, were it hereafter constituted, should consist of two classes of professional persons-Surgeons and Doctors of Medicine; but, as neither can judiciously perform their professional duties without a knowledge of pharmacy quite equal to that possessed by the medical practitioners known under a different name, it would be irrational to speak of a third class as being necessary to the completeness of the General Board,"

Mr. Kennedy then proceeds to develope a plan for an effective reform of the abuses which exist in the medical profession. But of the merits of this plan, not being professional men, we are incompetent to speak.

A Dissertation, Practical and Conciliatory. By DANIEL CHAPMAN. Hamilton, Adams, and Co.

THIS work is divided into three parts. The first embraces "Philosphy and Theology;" the second, "Politics and Religion ;" and the third, "Private Opinion and Ecclesiastical Communion." The author is evidently a deep thinker, and possesses a vigorous mind. He is, moreover, a man of decided and enlightened piety. But we are afraid his subjects, and his mode of illustrating them, are too abstruse for his book obtaining an extensive circulation. His positions are generally sound occasionally we meet with one of a debateable nature. We shall be glad to hear that Mr. Chapman's success in this instance is sufficiently great to encourage him to proceed with the future volumes he has in contemplation on similar topics. If so, we would hint that his style, which is in the main correct and vigorous, would be more popular if less elaborate. His arguments also would, in many instances, be still more effective if they were not amply so illustrated.

Tales of Fashion and Reality. By CAROLINE FREDERICA BEAUCLERK, and HENRIETTA MARY BEAUCLERK. Smith, Elder, & Co. THERE is much that is silly, some things which are absurd, with a good Ideal that is clever in this volume. We have seldom seen a work of more unequal merit. There is a mixture of poetry and prose in the contents. The prose is the best; the poetry is poor in the extreme. The merit of the work chiefly consists in the insight it gives into the foibles and follies of the fashionable world. The volume professes to be only the first of a series. We doubt much whether its success will be such as to induce the fair authoresses to continue the series.

The Arboretum Britannicum. Parts XX. and XXI.

We have already, on several occasions, called attention to this periodical. We have only to say that it continues its course with all that apparent prosperity to which it is so justly entitled.

Library of Anecdote. Book of Table Talk. Vol. I. fcp. 8vo. pp. 319. Knight.

NOTHING can be more pleasing to a person much of whose time is engaged in perusing and forming an opinion of the merits of contemporaneous publications than the appearance of a work calculated to smooth the brow of dull care, and excite mirth, even the hackneyed train of feelings so sadly incident to a professional reviewer. Such a work, we are happy to say, is the present,

otherwise. In the case of either homicide or murder the greatest prudence and decision of character will be indispensable. We are of opinion, in reference to the latter case, that the resident merchants should form themselves into a board, presided over by the superintendent of the trade, whether it be an acknowledged council or not, and try the accused parties. If such a court be instituted while there is no misunderstanding, it is not improbable that the Chinese would be satisfied with their decisions in almost every matter that might be brought before them. Hitherto the guilty has been screened, and suffered to go at liberty on reaching the first British port on leaving China. The Chinese among themselves distinguish between homicide and murder; but with respect to foreigners they make no distinction, in order that the fear of committing either of the crimes might cause foreigners to abstain from wrangling and fighting, lest death should ensue. We must acknowledge that this severity has had considerable influence over the minds of thousands of Europeans who annually visit China. But the principle is too bad to be tolerated.

The Metropolitan Journal, Part II. James Bollaert.

THIS is a new candidate, in the weekly form, for literary reputation. It is conducted, if we are not mistaken, by Mr. J. Walker Ord. There are some clever things in it; but the effect of its best articles is marred by the egotism, and affectation, and petulance which characterize the greater portion of its contents. It deserves praise for the typographical neatness with which it is got up. A series of papers under the head of "Reminiscences of Lord Byron and his Contemporaries, by an intimate friend of his Lordship," is publishing in this " Metropolitan Journal.' We give one of the

best:

"Pisa is the most beautiful city I ever was in. It is the fairest flower in the garden of the world; as poetical in its look and atmosphere as it is in its associations. It is like a city in a dream, or in a poem, such a poem as Spencer might have written: its reality fades before its ideality, for though we behold its palaces, its river, its tower, its paintings, its churches, and its cemeteries (though these strike us with all the force of magnificent palpabilities), and though we hear its unceasing voices most musical, yet the after effect produced upon us is so unusual and so delightful that we walk through it sublimed into a feeling of its ideality by the unearthliness of the realities that surround us. It is the reverse of Manchester, of Leeds, and of Sheffield -they are sheerly commercial, Pisa is sheerly poetical in the three first you go about thinking of great-coats, pocket-handkerchiefs, and knives-but in Pisa you walk with Ariosto, and with heaven-thoughted Dante, with the elegant Boccaccio, the patient Petrarch, or with the rural Tasso-its commonplaces are bits of poetry-its poetry is celestial-andBut it is not my

intention to write a history of Pisa-though a very delightful task it would be-it is my own history that I am to relate, even a task still more delightful, linked, as it is, with the memories of the illustrious, the beautiful, and the good, and undarkened by one unvirtuous sorrow either of the loving or the beloved.

To be egotistical then. The first thing I proceeded to do, when I had settled at my hotel, was to seek apartments; so at about four o'clock on the afternoon of the morning on which I entered the loveliest of all cities, I set out with my Ariosto and walking stick in search of the object aforesaid. I had been recommended, by mine host at the hotel, to the residence of a nobleman who let apartments on the Lung' Arno.* I was told there was nothing extraordinary in this, and that I need by no means be under any

• The street on either side of the river Arno, which flows through the town.

scruples of etiquette in asking him all the business-like questions essential to the correct understanding between the host and future lodger. I took my way, therefore, without further ado to the lordly mansion, and knocked at the door with the air of a man conscious of his want of a fit knowledge of the exact situation he was in. His lordship, who looked very much like a law writer from Serle's place, opened the door to me himself. Can I see the apartments you have to let is his lordship at home?' 'His lordship has the honour of being spoken to by your excellency at this present minute,' returned the nobleman, bowing quickly and furiously, Pray walk in, your excellency?' Thank you, I replied, and M. Conte Morand' and myself proceeded up stairs till we came into an apartment about the size of the great room at Free Mason's Hall. "This is the principal bed-room,' said the Count, It is rather small, but I assure your lordship that you could put an English cottage comfortably into it, kitchen, attic, washhouse and all.' The Count laughed like one mad,' as Mr. Pepys used to 'What do you think of this then?' said he, opening a door into a kind of Salisbury-plain of an apartment-This is the dining-room; a great deal of roste befe might be got through in this room, eh?' and his lordship roared at his own joke like a rhinoceros in an ecstasy. But to business,' added the Count, with great good-natured familiarity- your excellency would like to see the other rooms, there are eighteen more!' The Count turned from me to open another door, or he would have seen the exquisite astonishment depicted in my countenance. I hope your family is not very large?' enquired he. No, your lordship sees the whole of my family in myself.' Oh, then there will be quite room enough!' 'Quite, I thank you.' After perambulating the suite for some half an hour, I took leave, with the intention of entering the apartments the day following.

say.

one !

"I turned from his lordship as he closed the door, and, taking no particular direction, walked carelessly on, much in that half-reflective half-stupid state of mind that a man is in when he leans against a wall in the sunshine-shut up in my own thoughts, or rather in my own want of thought. I was suddenly awakened from my reverie by a picture! Such a picture! a living It was the face of a girl, gazing anxiously from out a window, her dark hair flowing in a profusion of ringlets over her white shoulders, and her cheek, voluptuous in bloodful health, reclining upon her hand. She reminded me (but she was dark) of Caracci's beautiful creation of Susanna, that picture on which I had gazed, years previous, for hours, till the dim evening shadowed the light of its beauty and the breath of love seemed to have past away. Our eyes met! Hers were instantly withdrawn, the window lowered and the green blind closed. I walked homeward, the face gazed at me the while! I entered my room, its eyes still looked into mine! Betimes, I retired to rest, still those eyes looked at me-no young child ever dreamt a dream so beautiful, of more sweet fancy than the dreams those eyes brought me that night. I resolved to visit the same street the next day.

"Before I entered my apartments on the following morning I hastened to pay my respects to the personages to whom my father had obtained me letters of introduction; among them were, Mrs. Shelley, Leigh Hunt, Esq., Lord Byron, Captain Trelawney, John Cam Hobhouse, Esq. After breakfasting on grapes, coccommero (a kind of gourd), light wines, and biscuit, I set out for the residence of the noble Author of Childe Harold, to whom, as I had previously been informed, Mr. Leigh Hunt and family were at that time on a visit. He lived, at the time I speak of, at the Cara Lonfranchi, situate on the Lung' Arno, and one of the largest and most magnificent palaces in Pisa, It was built of marble, though no one would have thought it so, for antiquity had yellowed it, and given it the colour of a dingy composition. I lifted the massive knocker at the portal, and the sound reverberated up the galleries and corridors within, reminding me of what I had read of in Amadis and the old English Romances. My romantic associations, however, were very speedily

a brutal overseer and callous jailor. Isoline arrives in the disguise of a sailor, bribes the jailor to permit an interview with her lover, and they escape immediately before the arrival of the Marquis as governor of Guiana, cured of his wounds both in body and mind. The third act displays the faithful pair sinking under the accumulated evils of fatigue and hunger, oppressive heat, and that thirst which is only known to the worn traveller in the parched desert. The timely arrival of the repentant Marquis preserves them from a horrible death, and they of course are united. So much for the story.

The music is not such as we could have wished. The overture reminded us of so many others that we have heard, especially Auber's to "Massaniello," that we could not divest ourselves of the idea that it was intended for a medley, and not an original production. A ballad, sung by Phillips, most exquisitely, "The light of other days is faded," and encored, was introduced by a sole on the valve-cornet, played by Handley in a most finished manner, and no doubt will become popular. Yet it so closely resembles the opening movement of the duet in Bellini's "Puritan," that a casual hearer might readily mistake the one for the other. A pretty light chorus of soldiers in the first act was encored by half the house, and we believe sung again; but the malcontents were so loud in their expressions of disapprobation that it could not be heard. E. Seguin acquitted himself admirably in the part of the overseer, singing with unwonted spirit, which is all that is wanting to put him at the head of his profession. Unquestionably his voice is the finest bass now before the public, be the other which it may. We have reserved our observations on Malibran to the last, fearing that after speaking of her we might not be willing to allow their due meed of praise to the other members of the dramatis persona. Fortunate is the composer who can have his productions supported by this incomparable singer. On this occasion her pre-eminence shone forth in its brightest colours. It is not merely herself, but the energy she seems to awaken in those around. Phillips, who has of late become rather lazy and careless, was roused from his lethargy, and surpassed himself. Templeton, who at other times is but an indifferent singer, under the influence of her genius, warmed into excellence. To say that she herself sang and acted admirably is to say nothing. It would seem impossible for her to do otherwise. Her personation of the heroine was such as would of itself establish a claim to the highest place as an actress, whilst her unrivalled powers as a songstress were exhibited in the most brilliant light. All was exquisite; but in the finale she surpassed herself. So powerful was the sensation produced, that notwithstanding the fatigue she must have been suffering from the performance of her arduous part, the audience insisted on hearing it a second time. No commendation can be too high, no encomium too lavish, where so much has been done to deserve it; and Mr. Balfe owes a large debt of gratitude to Malibran for the success of an opera, which, but for her exertions, backed by Phillips, and well supported by the other charaeters, would we consider have added but little to his reputation. We seriously recommend him to search after originality, and not draw so largely upon the stores of his contemporaries. If he cannot compose

without copying, at least he should take his models farther off than Auber and Bellini.

COVENT GARDEN.-A review of Serjeant Talfourd's tragedy of Ion, as a literary production, appearing in another part of our present number we shall here confine ourselves to a criticism on its performance. It may not, however, be superfluous to state that the strict preservation of the unity of time and place, which it is generally admitted interferes much with scenic effect and dramatic character, did not seem to us, at least in this case, to detract from the interest, or tame the energetic character of the subject. A rapid change of circumstance and situation keep up the excitement of the mind to the end. Nor is it till after the fall of the curtain that we recollect we have been seeing a play written according to the strict rules laid down by the dramatic writers of antiquity. The tragedy is somewhat curtailed on the stage, to adapt it better for scenic representation; we think not injudiciously. It now remains to offer some observations on the parties who filled, or endeavoured to fill, the dramatis personæ. We were not fortunate enough to be present on the first night of performance, and can therefore offer no criticism on Miss E. Tree's personation of Clemanthe. Miss Helen Faucit, who was the representative on the 2d of June, if she cannot be said to have left nothing to regret in the change, at least deserves considerable praise. Two charges we bring against her, and should be happy if our notice would induce her to correct what we consider faults. She indulges in those hysterical sobs which many ladies of her profession deem necessary to the expression of deep feeling, and which passes in France under the name of the "horquet dramatique." No actress can ever expect to rise to the pinnacle of excellence who does not lay aside such silly affectations. We ought not, perhaps, to interfere with ladies' dresses, as not being by sex or occupation fit judges of what is becoming; but we claim a right to observe on what is decent. Now, if Miss Faucit supposes that by the abundant exposure of her person she is copying the antique, we would recommend her to the study of classical models, and she will find that they did not accomplish the exhibition of a large portion of naked flesh by wearing low dresses. And, if she supposes that she will obtain the admiration of men by so liberal a display of her bosom and shoulders, let her learn that we covet not what all may enjoy; and, however much any individual of the spectators might be delighted by the examination of her beauties in her dressing-room, none will be flattered by a sight that all may purchase for a few shillings. Having discharged our duty as guardians of public morality, we turn to the more agreeable task of awarding praise where it is due. Miss Faucit played with feeling, spirit, and expression; nor doubt we that Macready fully appreciates the assistance he derives from his fair coadjutor. His performance was to our mind as nearly faultless as possible. Nay, so strong was the illusion that the first impression of the unsuitableness of his age to the part wore off ere he had uttered twenty lines, and returned not till the mimic scene closed on his death. His description of the horrors of the plague, addressed to Clemanthe in the second scene, was delivered with soul-stirring pathos; nor must