But in those tropical groves, where love murmurs through the perfumed shade and sighs upon the tepid breeze, where they saw each other always, and no one else, and had really nothing else to do, the thing was inevitable. was inevitable. The precautionary prudence of Lady Earlingford, had however induced her to clothe her daughter as a boy before she introduced her to Fitz Aymer, and strange to say, she succeeded for a considerable length of time in making her pass før one, in the eyes of a young man who had her constantly in his sight, and moreover knew that Lady Earlingford had a daughter, and had even frequently seen her on board the ship!

The death of Lady Earlingford, who had long been sinking under suppressed emotion, and the agony of apprehension for her child, is accelerated by the alarm she receives from the landing of part of a gang of pirates. Nothing can be more affecting than the narrative of her death;-she discloses to Fitz Aymer the secret of the sex of her child, she entrusts her to his care, and expires after the performance of the solemn offices of prayer, administered under the most impressive and afflicting circumstances by the children whom she had just united by her blessing. Scenes of anguish and alarm, of outrage from the pirates, even of suspicion of Fitz Aymer, succeed cach other to try the constancy of Viola: she however survives them all, and is, at last, with her inestimable protector, and his juvenile charge, received on board a homeward-bound Indiaman. On board of her, the child finds his father, and Viola some friends, among the connections of her family.-The marvellous part of the story is now over, but the moral interest does not end. Viola, when she embarked from England, with her mother, was, according to the usual phrase, going out to marry a friend of her father, to whom he was anxious to give her, to repair the mortification of a former refusal to him of the hand of his niece, whom, like a true Indian, Sir William Earlingford had judged it expedient and proper to compel to marry a man of large property, whom she did not love, and more than twenty years her senior: this lady, Mrs. Melross, has a brother, who is indeed a very sad chap, and his extravagance and unprincipled conduct, and the obvious partiality of Mrs. Melross for Fitz Aymer had, (during the childhood of Viola) combined to draw that young man into scrapes and throw his character into a false point of view, which prejudiced Sir William and Lady Earlingford against him; he had, on that account, much up-hill work before he could entirely do away the unfavorable impressions on the mind of the latter, when he

met her on the island, and is agonized with apprehensions lest he should be rejected as a son by the former. By the skill of the author, all is, however, naturally and properly brought about; the lovers are made happy-and the reader is satisfied.

ART. V. Travels in Poland, Austria, Saxony, Bavaria, and the Tyrol, in the years 1807 and 1808, in a Series of Letters to a Friend. By BARON D'UKLANSKI. 12mo. pp. 243. Price 5s. 6d. Souter, London. 1815.

TRAVELS through so many countries, embracing the greater part of central Europe, included in 243 pages in small twelves, exhibit such an anomaly in this class of literature, that there is some difficulty in bringing the mind to admit its existence. The author cannot have been an author by trade; and it is probable that he set the printer to work without consulting his bookseller, who would have had no hesitation in telling him that nothing short of a quarto would do for a book of travels.

When a traveller chooses to assume the character of an author, it is so usual for him to make us acquainted with his motives for travelling, and his reasons for publishing, that we naturally and readily look for these as a necessary introduction to the work he presents. All the introductory information, however, which this author has been pleased to afford, is contained in the following very brief advertisement.

"The author is fully aware of his temerity in submitting the "following Letters to the public in an acquired language; but "flattered into the belief that he is perfectly clear and intelligi«ble, he has rather chosen to sacrifice a little in style and purity, "than to accept of a species of assistance which too frequently compromises the identity of a writer in the higher essentials "of fact and of opinion."

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The first thing that struck our attention, on turning to the first page, was the omission of "BAVARIA" in the heading of the work, though we had seen it on the title page. But recollecting that the title page of a book is generally the last thing that is printed, we conceived that the author might have begun to print his work as soon as he began to travel; that he had not then finally fixed upon his route, or that some untoward circumstance had afterwards caused him to pass at least through one country more than he intended. This however is not likely to have been the case, as his peregrinations commenced in 1807, and the work was not published till last year. Many of the

letters are addressed from Vienna, and consequently after a part of the author's tour had been performed, but they are without date. The first commences with the two following sentences.

"Yes! I will send you my journal willingly; and whatever "I have seen and felt, you shall find commemorated in it. In "every page you will read that my friends have been constantly " present to my mind, that, on the summit of burning Vesuvius, "and in the midst of fragrant orange groves, I have thought alike "warmly and affectionately of them."

This is an unfortunate beginning, as it must tend to weaken the reader's confidence in the accuracy of the subsequent pages; since Vesuvius is situated at least 350 miles from the nearest point of the countries embraced in the work: nor are orange-groves common in any of those countries. The following is a short sketch of the author's route. It commenced at Warsaw he proceeded thence to Cracow, and through Silesia and Moravia to Vienna. Could either a "burning Vesuvius" or many "fragrant orange-groves" have been met with in this route? From this place he went to Prague, and thence to Toplitz and Dresden; afterwards through Bareith (Bayreuth), Nuremberg, Augsburgh, and Munich, to the Tyrol, passing through Inspruck and Trent to Roveredo, where his labours cease. The following extract will afford the reader a further acquaintance with our literary Baron's movements.

"You know I left Warsaw immediately after the battle of PrussianEylau. The small town of Karezew, situated on the banks of the Vistula, in the former palatinate of Lublin, in the Austrian territory, became my asylum, and flying from the enemies of Europe, I escaped from my own. Some officers of the Austrian army, who chanced to be garrisoned there, welcomed me to their country with all the cordiality of German gentlemen, and after having lived so long among savages, I felt happy in seeing myself again among civilized men." p. 2.

By savages we suppose the writer means the inhabitants of Warsaw, as the reader is not furnished with the least hint of his ever having resided in any other place; and this supposition is strengthened by the circumstance of his finding every thing wretched and wrong in Poland, but right and paradisiacal in Austria. We extract the following paragraph as affording at once an instance of the manner in which French authority was exercised in foreign countries, and a specimen of our author's reflections.

"When the French first invaded Poland, one Perrian, a lieutenant in Marshal Davoust's corps, and vice-commander of Lenczyc, was so shocked at the sight of the filth, that, sending the burgomaster seven bullets, a sign of death in case of disobedience, he peremptorily ordered him to

remove the dirt from the town within twenty-four hours. These bullets had previously acquired a dreadful reputation, for, the day after his arrival in Lenczyc, the commander ordered two Jews to be shot, without any appeal, though the Prussian court of justice, in passing sentence of death on them, left the prisoners a recourse to a higher tribunal. The burgomaster, half dead with fright at the receipt of the significant present, turned out all that had hands to sweep the streets exclaiming at every third word-seven bullets; and thus the mud was happily carried out of the town. It is a pity that this lieutenant, who, at the bottom, was a worthless wretch, and drank to excess every afternoon, lost his command; he might, perhaps, have found means to expel the moral dirt from the heads of the inhabitants of Lenczyc, who, ever since Poland existed, have had the reputation of being clowns." P. 12.

This last sentence contains as singular a jumble of absurdities as we remember to have seen. It is asserted that Poland and Lenczyc are coeval in point of existence ;—that the inhabitants of Lenczyc have the reputation of being "clowns," and therefore are contaminated with "moral dirt;" that the seat of this immorality is in the head; that it was capable of being expelled by a "worthless wretch;" and all this is followed by "pity" that such a "wretch" should have lost his command. Things like these require no comment. We shall now quote a few sentences as a specimen of what the Baron calls "perfectly clear and intelligible," and will not trespass longer upon our readers', patience. The scene lies still in Poland.

"The manner of rendering the soil productive in Poland is peculiar to itself. When they begin to clear the land, if trees stand in the way, they content themselves with stabbing (stubbing we suppose) the underwood, making incisions in the bark of the timber at the height of ...three feet from the ground. The land being cleansed in this manner, is only once broken, and then sown; the plough, however, cannot enter deep into the ground, because of the roots, and the work is, of course, done superficially. The trees, besides, begin soon to dry, and losing the support of their roots, tumble down with the first high wind, and nobody thinks of removing the windfall from the spot. In the forests the peasants burn tar and charcoal; and where there is oak, beech, birch and other kinds of hard wood, they convert them into potash, and wantonly waste the timber." p. 16.

By way of conclusion, we shall only caution such of our readers as may be inclined to peruse this small volume for themselves, not to expect too much from a man who travels 320 miles in five days (p. 233), and can hear of nothing interesting respecting that extended space (including the whole of Tyrol) except what he can crowd into nine or ten of these diminutive pages.

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ART. VI.-A Letter from Rome addressed to M. De Fontanes, by the VICOMTE DE CHATEAUBRIAND. Translated from the French by W. J. WALTER, late of St. Edmund's College, and Translator of the Two Martyrs, a Moral Tale, by the above author. London. 1815.

WE frequently observe, that two artists of different tastes and abilities will choose the same subject and sketch the same scene, and yet the canvass of each be found to retain a true originality of character. The same landscape drawn by the sober pencil of Poussin, or touched with the wild and romantic hand of Salvator Rosa, may be admitted into the same cabinet without offending the eye, or detracting from the charm and interest of variety. Analogous to the labors of the artist are those of the descriptive traveller. According to the bent of his genius, or habits of his education, every man either discovers new things, or views them under a different aspect; and consequently describes them in a new way. We have been led to these remarks by comparing the present account of Rome with that given in a former number, from the travels of Mr. Eustace. The present writer, so well known from the peculiar graces of his style, and the strength and realizing power of his descriptions, looks at Rome and its neighbourhood with the eye of a poet, and with an enthusiastic admiration of every thing Roman; while Mr. Eustace views it rather as a philosopher, and with something like the cold calculating spirit of an economist. Views of the same object so varied, cannot but afford the reader gratification: an equal degree of encouragement should be held out to the traveller and to the artist, according to the different degree of their skill and talents, unless it can be proved that the colours and expressions of the mind, are less various than those of the brush and the pallet. But to the Letter itself.

It appears to have been written on the spot, from the first glowing impressions made on the author's mind. He tells his friend M. Fontanes, the President of the French Academy, that he could not quit Rome without an attempt at fulfilling his promise of making some observations on so renowned a city; that he shall not be very solicitous about preserving exact order or connexion in his remarks; but confine himself to a general idea of the outside of Rome;—that is, of its plains and its ruins. The following is the striking picture which he gives of the Campagna di Roma.