Ion. Low at thy feet, and kneeling here receive And that word I will not speak ;-what have I to forgive? Which taught me all I guess'd of brotherhood, Ion. Nay, old playmate, Skimm'd through these statue-border'd walks that gleam'd And think we are but older by a day, And that the pleasant walk of yesternight [Exeunt. We are to-night retracing. Come, my friend! What, drooping yet! thou wert not wont to seem So stubborn-cheerily, my Phocion-come! The last act of the play, especially in the parting interview with Clemanthe, exhibits very finely and boldly the calm but mighty struggle of the gentler and more tender emotions of his nature with his stern and unalterable resolution of self-sacrifice. This solemn moment arrives :-Ion is led to his throne by the priest; and after issuing a few orders to certain individuals, thus addresses the assembled nation : Ion. Medon. Prithee no more, Argives! I have a boon That ye will seek hereafter in yourselves The means of sovereign rule :-our narrow space, Needs not the magic of a single name Which wider regions may require to draw Their interests into one; but, circled thus, Of nymph-like loveliness, which finest chords Of foreign power should threaten. Swear to me Wherefore ask this now? Thou shalt live long., Ion. Medon and others. Ion. The gods approve me then! [He goes to the altar,] Gracious gods! In whose mild service my glad youth was spent, Look on me now ;-and if there is a Power, As at this solemn time I feel there is, Beyond ye, that hath breathed through all your shapes In earth and heaven ;-to ye I offer up This conscious being full of life and love For my dear country's welfare. Let this blow End all her sorrows! [Stabs himself and falls.] The death of Ion, the last of the race of Adrastus, we need scarcely add, propitiates the anger of Phoebus; and health and prosperity are restored to Argos. The citations that we have made are somewhat copious: more so than is usual with Reviewers. The only apology, if apology be needed, that can be offered, is that this plan seemed on the whole better than that of expatiating on the particular points of beauty ourselves, where no corresponding sensation could be felt by those of our readers who had not read or seen the Tragedy. Though our remarks come forth with less pretence of criticism, we doubt not that we have as faithfully developed the beauties of Mr. Talfourd's play as those more ambitious writers who in papers, miscalled Reviews, express their own opinions with a boldness and dogmatism that concealment alone could sanction, and indulge a malicious spite or tedious garrulity, instead of fairly showing the merits and demerits of the work on which they are called to pass judgment. In reading the Tragedy of Ion, we have been so frequently reminded of the "Antigone and Edipus Tyrannus of Sophocles" that we have been tempted to look into those Plays in order, if possible, to detect imitation. That the learned author has formed his style on the classic model there can be no doubt; and as little, we apprehend, that he has particularly studied the poetic mind of Sophocles: but with some diligence in the examination we have not been able to ground a suspicion, much less to substantiate a charge, of want of original genius in the author of Ion. That some envious eyes will search and seem to find passages to suit their purpose, in other poets of old and modern days, we cannot doubt: for if Shakspeare and Milton, and all their followers, met with such detractors, the works of a modern bard will not be treated with more respect. The play of lon is not, we think, destined to the ephemeral existence of the pigmy poetry of the present generation. Its sterling qualities-overflowing, as it does, with deep emotion and intense passion, expressed as truly and delicately as the most vivid fancy could paint them, must secure for it a high and permanent station amidst the poetic literature of England, as well as win for the author the unanimous praises of the candid and competent judges of dramatic poetry in his own day. THE MANSE AND ITS INMATES. (Continued from page 524 of vol. xx.) THEN Miss Watson and Hatty and Shatty must go to a Roman Catholic chapel and a Quaker's meeting, to the Magdalen and the Asylum, and to Rowland Hill's, to the Chapel Royal and the Jews' Synagogue, but the last was after sunset on a Friday evening; and, if there was little or no devotion in a crowd of women peeping through the grating of a gallery, Ruth's other faculties were soon absorbed in that of listening; she thought of the "sweet singers of Israel," and wished that, as well as the delightful voices of the boys who sang, she could also have heard some of the "daughters of Zion." Sunday was Mr. Hurst's holiday, the day on which he thought himself entitled to a "mouthful of fresh air;" so he regularly, when there was no rain, mounted beside the coachman, and between the hours of service drove a little way out of town, any little cravings of the appetite being provided for by biscuits and sandwiches in the pockets of the carriage. This family prided itself upon being a very united one; and certainly the worldly prosperity of each individual (and each had an ample share) gave great satisfaction to all the rest. Had any been unfortunate, the sympathy might have been affected, for they had very near relations whose early lives had been even more distinguished by the smiles of fortune than their own, upon whom, without any misconduct or imprudence on their part, the bitter blasts of poverty had descended, and they were left to the frequent fate of "poor relations," partially noticed indeed, because that could not be entirely avoided, but never as equals, never invited to share in those gaieties and indulgences so highly prized by themselves, and which their less wealthy cousins could no longer procure. Equally engaged in the pursuit of pleasure and the attainment of wealth, had the laws of the country not forbidden these objects to be publicly engaged in on the day set apart by God himself, the exertions of Mr. Hurst and his sons-in-law would certainly have known no periodical intermission. As it was, it was not the Lord's day, it was their day; and, unless one of the married daughters happened to be confined, the whole family dined together at the different houses of each other in rotation. To Ruth this was almost insupportable, and she never could comprehend the reasonableness of being compelled to make the thirteenth! to listen to the account given by the family in Lincoln's Inn Fields of their amusements and arrangements during the past week, and the equally uninteresting communications of Dolly and Dosy, and Penny and Priscy, in return. All these ladies had children, but they were young, and went to bed at eight o'clock, and Ruth was soon tired of them and their nursery-maids. Then, Mrs. Dowling lived on Great Tower Hill, and she tired also of Trinity Square and the Tower Wharf, and Mrs. Dixon at Islington, and Mrs. Parkins at Lambeth, and Mrs. Prescott M.M.-No. 1. C at Kennington Common; and they had all little courts before their houses, with three poplars to keep off the dust, and a rhododendron in the middle, to show that they did not like any thing common, and long slips of gardens behind, with currant-bushes nailed against the walls, and the middle cut up into a great many little gravel walks and little flower beds, bordered with box; and she was unreasonable enough to tire of these too! poor Ruth! Every year Mrs. Hurst and her daughters spent six weeks, during the pleasantest part of the autumn, at a watering place; they generally chose Margate, as being the most bustling. This year, luckily for Ruth, Priscy not being very well, and her husband, Mr. Prescott, really having the good taste to prefer Ramsgate, the Hursts and Prescotts took a house there in Effingham Place; while the Dowlings, &c., accommodated themselves at Margate. Ruth had visited Ramsgate before with her kind friend Mrs. Somerive, who frequently spent the Midsummer vacation there; and so little was her company desired at home that notwithstanding every attention she received was looked upon with jealousy, and her superior good luck made a subject of reproach, as if it was an injury to Isabella, still she dared not have refused an invitation, even had it been disagreeable to her to accept it, because she never went home that, before the holidays were expired, she was not made to feel her being there as an expense and an intrusion. Though Mrs. Hurst was as despotic in the Isle of Thanet as in the city of London, her regulations were much more agreeable; all lessons were forbidden-it was Harriot and Charlotte's holidays. They walked and bathed before breakfast, and Ruth being acquainted with the localities often directed their perambulations,-by the fields to Broadstairs, through the pleasant village of Dumpton,―to Pegwell Bay, where they procured shrimps,-to Manson wood and cave,-to St. Peter's, in one of the fields leading to which they found a neat small farm-house, where, on several fine evenings afterwards, they carried tea and sugar, and regaled themselves with country cream, bread, and butter. On the right hand of the public road to Margate they were attracted by the appearance of trees, and they found a delightful shady walk and a pleasant little hamlet called Northwood. These and many others were their morning excursions, not forgetting the fine sands, the east cliff, and the noble pier. With Mrs. Hurst they lounged in the libraries, saw the fine views from the North Foreland lighthouse and the church of St. Peters, and took drives, not merely to Broadstairs, Kingsgate, and Margate, but to Sandwich, Deal, Dover, and Canterbury. They attended all the balls, went two or three times to the theatre at Margate, and had several donkey expeditions. Ruth was very sorry when the six weeks came to an e d; and very sorry also that they were not to return, as they went, by water; but she willingly conceded that Mrs. Hurst was right, when she saw the beauty of the road; and, staying two days at Rochester, visited the "Lines" at Chatham and Brompton, and took a delightful sail as far as Sheerness, admiring as they went Upnor, Gillingham, &c., so beautifully situated on the banks of the beautiful Medway. 1 Fortunately it was a fine day, and Sheerness itself looked pleasant, while the bold sea-view to the Nore-the very name of which calls up associations so interesting to all who love the naval glory of Britain-was never seen in greater beauty. It can scarcely be necessary to state that Mrs. Hurst did not quit Rochester without visiting the castle, the cathedral, and the oyster-beds. At Gravesend and Greenhithe they tried to find something remarkable, but were not very successful. At Erith they were more fortunate: Lord Eardley's fine seat occupied them two hours. They gave a passing notice to the church and the steeple at Dartford, vi sited the model of Severndroog, or, as the people in the neighbourhood somewhat irreverently termed it, "Lady James's Folly, on Shooters' Hill, went through the whole of the arsenal at Woolwich (it was with some difficulty that Mrs. Hurst was dissuaded from visiting the convict ship, as she was informed that it was com manded by a captain of the navy whose family resided on board with him), dined at the Green Man at Blackheath, and reached Lincoln's Inn Fields at a late hour on a fine evening in October. Kind as were Mrs. Somerive's intentions, and excellent as was her judgment, she had, in sending Ruth to Mrs. Hurst, placed her in a situation of great danger. It is true that to a disposition like hers, quiet, serious, and reflective, such a course of life was naturally distasteful; but she was also timid in the extreme, accustomed all her life to pay implicit obedience, grateful for kindness, and unwilling to give pain, with good dispositions to influence rather than fixed principles to guide her. Such being the case, had she remained in this family three or four years she would probably have fallen into their habits, and lost all taste or inclination for better things, or have become nervous, sullen, and discontented. As it was, she was for a considerable time stupefied and bewildered; she felt herself under a yoke which it was impossible to shake off or even to question. Her mind was equally a stranger to exertion or repose. She felt herself becoming a mere machine; things were done because they must not be left undone, and, perfectly mistress of all she had engaged to teach, the business of instruction was performed with the most mechanical regularity. She wished to think, but she had neither time nor power; and often at night, when she stretched her exhausted frame on the bed and laid her wearied head upon her pillow, while ready tears flowed from her eyes, "at least I was thankful for my blessings while I had them," was all of complaint or consolation that her lips could utter before lips and were equally closed in the heavy slumber of over-exerted powers. eyes She had been about three months in Lincoln's Inn Fields when a Scotch baronet, for whom Mr. Hurst had been professionally employed, paid a visit to London, for the purpose of closing the proceedings of a successful, and not unreasonably long, suit in Chancery. The solicitor was in high favour, the client in high good humour, and Mr. Hurst honourably seized the occasion to acquit himself of his promise to Mrs. Somerive. Sir Kenneth Maitland had two little daughters, then under the care of a respectable preparatory governess; but as he resided constantly |