The old clock, with a long preliminary whir, struck eleven as the old man concluded his strange recital-an unusually late hour for such an out-of-the-world spot. I retired to a chamber where everything was familiar to me; but so many visions galloped through my brain that it was long ere I slept, for my imagination almost persuaded me that, upon rising in the morning, the village would be peopled as it was wont to be, and that the same happy faces would greet me as of old. I slept, and they all faded.

DR. JOHNSON: HIS RELIGIOUS LIFE, AND HIS
DEATH.

THE title is a captivating one, and will allure many, but it very feebly expresses the contents of the volume, which brings under our observation the religious opinions of scores upon scores of other men, and is enriched with numerous anecdotes of the contemporaries of the great lexicographer. The book, indeed, may be considered as a condensation of all that was known and recorded of Dr. Johnson's practice and experience of religion from his youth to his death;-of its powerful influence over him through many years of his life,-of the nature of his faith, and of its fruits in his works ;-but there is added to this so much that is excellent of other people,-the life of the soul is seen in so many other characters-so many subjects are introduced that are more or less intimately connected with that to which the title refers, and all are so admirably blended together, and interwoven with the excellent remarks of the author, as to justify us in saying of the book, that it is one of the most edifying and really useful we have for years past met with.

It has often been our lot to see the sneers of beardless boys at the mention of religion, and to hear the titter of the empty-headed when piety was spoken of, and we always then thought of the profound awe with which the mighty mind of Dr. Johnson was impressed by such subjects of his deep humiliation of soul when he reflected upon his duties and responsibilities-and of his solemn and reverential manner when religion became the topic of discourse, or the subject of his thoughts. His intellect, one of the grandest that was ever given to man, humbled itself to the very dust before the Giver;-the very superiority of his mental powers over those of other men, made him but feel himself the less in his own sight, when he reflected from whom he had his being, and to whom he must render an account of the use he made of the vast intellectual powers he possessed.

But the religion of Dr. Johnson consisted not in deep feeling only, nor in much talking nor professing, but was especially distinguished by its practical benevolence: when he possessed but two-pence, one penny was always at the service of any one who had nothing at all; his poor house was an asylum for the poor, a home for the destitute: there, for months and years together, he sheltered and supported the needy and

the blind, at a time when his utmost efforts could do no more than provide bare support for them and himself. Those whom he loved not he would serve- —those whom he esteemed not he would give to, and labour for, and devote the best powers of his pen to help and to benefit.

The cry of distress, the appeal of the afflicted, was irresistible with him—no matter whatever else pressed upon him—whatever literary calls were urging him-or however great the need of the daily toil for the daily bread,—all was abandoned till the houseless were sheltered, till the hungry were fed, and the defenceless were protected; and it would be difficult to name any of all Dr. Johnson's contemporaries—he in all his poverty, and they in all their abundance-in whose lives such proofs could be found of the most enlarged charity and unwearied benevolence.

But the book treats of so many subjects, of so much that is connected with religion in general, and with the Church of England in particular, that we can really do no more than refer our readers to the volume itself; with the assurance that they will find in it much useful and agreeable information on all those many matters which are connected in these times with Church interests, and which are more or less influencing all classes of the religious public.

The author writes freely, and with great power; he argues ably, and discusses liberally all the points of religious controversy, and a very delightful volume is the result of his labours. It must do good, it must please and improve the mind, as well as delight the heart of all who read it. Indeed, no one not equal to the work could have ventured upon it without lasting disgrace had he failed in it; a dissertation upon the faith and morals of a man whose fame has so long filled the world, and in whose writings so much of his religious feelings are displayed, and so much of his spiritual life is unveiled, must be admirably written to receive any favour from the public; and we think that the author has so ably done what he undertook to do, that that full measure of praise will be awarded to him, which in our judgment he deserves.

A perusal of this excellent work reminds us of the recent sale of some letters and documents of Dr. Johnson from Mr. Linuecar's collection. The edifying example of this good and great man, so well set forth in the present volume, is fully borne out in an admirable prayer composed by Dr. Johnson, a few months before his death, the original copy of which was here disposed of. For the gratification of the reader, we may be allowed to give the following brief abstract of the contents of these papers :

"Streatham, December 12, 1771. "I have thought upon your epitaph, but without much effect; an epitaph is no easy thing. Of your three stanzas, the third is utterly unworthy of you. The first and third together give no discriminative character. If the first alone were to stand, Hogarth would not be distinguished from any other man of intellectual eminence. Suppose you worked upon something like this

"The hand of Art here torpid lies,

That traced th' essential form of grace,
Here death has clos'd the curious eyes

That saw the manners in the face.

If genius warm thee, Reader, stay,
If merit touch thee, shed a tear,
Be Vice and Dulness far away,

Great Hogarth's honour'd dust is here.

"TO DR. FARMER.

"Bolt Court, July 22nd, 1777. "The booksellers of London have undertaken a kind of body of English Poetry, excluding generally the dramas, and I have undertaken to put before each author's works a sketch of his life, and a character of his writings. Of some, however, I know very little, and am afraid I shall not easily supply my deficiencies. Be pleased to inform me whether among Mr. Burke's manuscripts, or anywhere else at Cambridge any materials are to be found."

"I am very much obliged by your civilities to my godson, and must beg of you to add to them the favour of permitting him to see you paint, that he may know how a picture is begun, advanced and completed. If he may attend you in a few of your operations, I hope he will shew that the benefit has been properly conferred, both by his proficiency and his gratitude."

The following beautiful prayer is dated Ashbourne, Sept. 18, 1784:"Make me truly thankful for the call by which Thou hast awakened my conscience and summoned me to repentance. Let not Thy call, O Lord, be forgotten, or Thy summons neglected, but let the residue of my life, whatever it shall be, be passed in true contrition, and diligent obedience. Let me repent of the sins of my past life, and so keep Thy laws for the time to come, that when it shall be Thy good pleasure to call me to another state, I may find mercy in Thy sight. Let Thy Holy Spirit support me in the hour of death, and, O Lord, grant me pardon in the day of Judgment.'

Besides the above, Dr. Johnson's celebrated letter to the author of "Ossian's Poems," in which he says, I will not be deterred from detecting what I think to be a cheat by the menaces of a ruffian," was sold at this sale for twelve guineas.

SONETTO.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF BENEDETTO MENZINI.

VOL. XXVII.

I PLANTED once a laurel tree,

And breathed to heaven an humble vow,

That Phoebus' favourite it might be,
And shade and deck a poet's brow!

I prayed to Zephyr that his wing,

Descending through the April sky,
Might wave the boughs in early spring,
And brush rude Boreas frowning by.
And slowly Phoebus heard the prayer,
And slowly, slowly, grew the tree,
And others sprang more fast and fair,-

Yet marvel not that this should be;
For tardier still the growth of Fame-
And who is he the crown may claim?

ETA.

EE

OUR PEN AND INK GALLERY.

BY ALFRED CROWQUILL.

MAJOR HERBERT EDWARDES.

DEEDS of adventurous daring are of no unusual occurrence; and had Major Edwardes only distinguished himself as a gallant soldier, it is probable that the artist and the engraver would not have been called upon to furnish his portrait, and that we should not have been required to supply a notice of his life. Fortune favours the brave; but only the brave who are resolved to extort a smile from her. The man who, at the age of twenty-eight, in a subordinate capacity, planned and executed a series of brilliant. operations which suggested the siege of Mooltan, and resulted in the subjugation of the Punjab, is a hero whom a Clive would have delighted to honour, as a Wellington has been prompt to applaud. A portrait of such a man, and a notice of him, however brief, cannot but be interesting to our readers.

Herbert Edwardes, the sole survivor of three brothers, is the son of the late Rev. Benjamin Edwardes, Rector of Frodesley in Salop, and is descended from an old Welsh family. Losing both parents while yet very young, he was brought up by a near relative, John Thomas Hope, Esq., of Netley, in his native county. His education was begun under the Rev. Charles Delafosse, of Richmond, Surrey, and completed at King's College, London, of which institution (degrees then not being obtainable) he became an Associate.

Despairing of making his way in England, he solicited and obtained from Sir Richard Jenkins, Bart., G.C.B., an appointment to India, at a period of life much later than is usual, for he came of age on his voyage out, an event which was not celebrated by a devoted tenantry, and which ruffled not the leaves of the ponderous books in Threadneedle Street. His fellow-passengers in "The Walmer Castle" have since recalled, that (to relieve the tedium of the voyage) he edited a weekly ship newspaper called "The Walmer Gazette," and that for twelve weeks (mirabile dictu!) he conducted that journal without offence.

He landed at Calcutta on the 29th January, 1841, and was shortly afterwards attached to the 1st Bengal European regiment, then just returned from the first Affghan war, joining it at the close of the year at Kurnal on the north-west frontier.

Our young hero now began to study the native languages and Anglo-Indian history; and soon attracted notice by a series of monthly letters on political subjects, in the "Delhi Gazette," to which he affixed the signature of Brahminee Bull. These were variously attributed to several old civilians in the Bengal presidency; but the