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The next apartment is the Entré-room, which is nearly as spacious as the preceding. The furniture and decorations of which are equally splendid. In this are two very large pictures of sea fights-the battle of the first of June, between the English fleet, under Lord Howe, and the French fleet, by De Loutherbourg, and the battle of Trafalgar, painted, as a companion, by W. M. Turner, R. A. by his Majesty's command, expressly to hang in this room. This leads to the throne room, which far exceeds the others in splendour; the walls being covered with crimson satin damask, divided

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"THIS is right, Sir-I approve of this," observed a into panels, by pilasters of crimson velvet, gorgeously critical frequenter of our public sights: "this is as it ornamented with beautiful and tasteful carvings by the should be, Sir,-one may compare these three attic inimitable Grinlin Gibbons. The throne is lofty, and most sumptuous; being composed of crimson velvet, with apartments to a splendid banquet of three tables-the Great-room as the upper, the Anti-room, and the School a profusion of gold, embroidery, and ornament. It is ascended by three steps, richly carpetted. In this of Painting, as the side tables, and the pictures of the magnificent apartment, in the centre panel, over the Royal Academicians being hung in each of these, amongst the minor works, like some of the great dons fire-place, is a grand whole length portrait of his pre-appertaining by right of precedence to the honors of sent Majesty, represented in the coronation robes, the upper table, seating themselves at the others amidst painted by Sir Thomas Lawrence. On each side is a large picture,—the battle of Waterloo-and the battle the guests generally bidden to the feast. This arrangement is highly creditable to the lords of the banquet.— of Vittoria, by G. Jones, R. A. Nothing can exceed 'He that humbleth himself shall be exalted.'" the gorgeous splendour of this room. We are always amused with the observations of this Beyond, is his Majesty's closet, a superb apart-old gentleman-his remarks are usually so apt. and ment, with crimson damask walls, on which are two pertinent. He is one of the old school, and reflects grand subjects from Buckingham House, painted by upon passing scenes through his own original specRubens. St. Martin dividing his cloak, and an eques-tacles. trian portrait of King Philip of Spain. This room is furnished with two most exquisite specimens of Boule, in a commede and library table, by Baily, of Mountstreet. The private rooms for the accommodation of his Majesty, where he slept the night preceding the drawing-room, are in continuation.

On returning to the west end of the anti-chamber is the entrance to the new gallery, which leads to the staircase of egress. This is about eighty feet in length. On the walls are whole length portraits of King Henry VIII. by Hans Holbein; Queen Mary, by Sir Antonio Moore; Queen Elizabeth, by Mytens; King James I., and King Charles I., by Vandyke. That of King James, a posthumous portrait.

Indeed we coincide with these remarks-there is great consideration on the face of this arrangement. Doubtless each young painter may feel desirous of attaining to the honors of the upper table, but they may wait their turn, and be content with the eclat attached to sitting right and left "below the salt," in such good good company.

We have before noticed a peculiar stratum in the Sir William great mine; here too is a rich vein of ore.

Curtis is sterling metal, and the two female busts, Nos. - and -, might bear the fire of the critical furnace, and passing that ordeal, be pronounced pure. The sweet expression in the countenance of the lady, by Mr. Shee, led us unwittingly to associate the painter The most magnificent apartment, however, is the with the elegant " Rhymes on Art," and hence to metaBanquetting room, being in length sixty-three feet, and in breadth thirty-nine feet. The ceiling thirty feet phor. Had we that work by our side, we might quote some lines in verse, suited to its grace and beauty-but in height, from which hang five gorgeous gilt chandeliers. as that is not within reach, we will say in simple prose, This apartment, which was the old ball room, has been that it is a captivating picture, and one of the most entirely dismantled of its gallery, and heavy incum-admired female portraits in the exhibition. This is on brances, and refitted on a design which reminds us of the right side of the commanding picture by the Prethe palace-like splendour of the age of Louis le Grand.sident. On the left is another fine specimen of the The whole walls are divided into panels, and pilasters, composed of borders, rich to the last degree, in ornaments entirely original, but in the character of that age. These are richly gilt, and are chastely relieved on a colour approximating to the pearl. It is considered by every one to be the most splendid and elegant room of that character of any royal palace in Europe.

English School of Portraiture, from the accomplished pencil of Mr. Phillips. Between two such personifica. tions of modesty and beauty, any knight of old might

feel elate.

"What may be your opinion of Mr. Phillips's picture of Lord Acheson, that whole length, in the dress of one of his Majesty's Pages, that?" pointing to No. 56, enquired a great collector of the old masters; rejoining, "I think it is

very elegantly designed, and really very chaste in the ensemble," addressing himself to a professor.

"A very fine whole length, Sir," replied the painter. "It strikes me that the effect of the head is deficient in force, somewhat wanting in roundness and that bold relief, which some of the other portraits display."

"Why, Sir, it does not tell here so powerfully as when I saw it in Mr. Phillips's painting room, certainly: but, doubtless, you, Sir, are well acquainted with the difficulty of appreciating a picture abstractedly, in a collection like this. Mr. Phillips aims at no forced effects. He is as little contaminated by the prevailing error, as any amongst the most distinguished of his contemporaries. He aims at truth, and seems rather to address his works to the few who can estimate what is legitimate in art, than to obtain popular eclat, by that meretricious practice, which seduces general applause. That head, Sir, could you approach near enough to see it fairly, would excite your entire approbation-it is natural, pure in colour, well drawn, and finely finished. Sir, there is no possibility of judging of the merits of a head painted with that unaffected simplicity, mounted so much above the eye."

"Why, I am not sure of that," replied the painter. "It is loose, and free, and clever, but it is not sufficiently studied. The scene is better designed than painted. If Master Newton, who really has an excellent fancy, who conceives his subject with a very original feeling, would determine to superadd, what I am convinced he possesses, a portion of that talent he has in reserve, he would raise himself to a rivalry, with those whom we rate among the first in this style of composition. As it is, however, he is a very improving painter, and certainly a devilish clever fellow." "By the way, did you notice a lively little composition, Rummaging a Wardrobe,' painted by T. S. Good."

"I did," replied the painter." It is a smart thought, and well applied. Good promises to add something to this fanciful style. There is a great deal of whim and frolic in his compositions, and this I think is the most complete of any that I have seen. Every figure is well employed, the girl attiring herself in her great grandmother's antique finery, tells capitally; she is a very pretty figure too. Now I like these playful subjects to speak the painter's intention with that simple appeal to the spectator which we behold in this. There is no grimace, nothing farcical, nothing forced, exrather eccentric; but in this rummaging scene, it falls naturally, and is introduced with skill. He paints these little subjects too more carefully than some of his neighbours. Indeed, it is an extremely interesting picture, well studied, and, as far as it goes, very effective. I should not hesitate to purchase it, if I were rich. If a print were to be made from it, a good line engraving, I would be a subscriber for a proof."

"Granted, Sir," replied the collector, "it is to be regret-cepting the lights, in the display of which he is occasionally ted that there is not space sufficient to allow the hanging of these whole length pictures some feet lower. I feel assured that it is to this necessity for placing them so much above the usual scope of vision, that we may, in great measure, owe the pernicious practice of exaggerating the facial effect, for I have not unfrequently observed, on a near inspection of works in a painter's study, such violent opposition of light and shadow to throw out the features, that I have almost condemned the style as the bombast of painting; yet, on recognizing the same pieces, on the surrounding walls, and occupying these same spaces, I have found that they have appeared natural, or at least, compatible with the general appearance of the leading works. Certainly there is an elegant simplicity of style about this performance, that is very agreeable. I should much desire to see the picture in a private apartment. I admire the general arrangement-it is a very accomplished work indeed. What think you of the background, Sir?"

"Why, Sir, we (a group of artists) have just agreed that the curtain is folded with great felicity; it is broad and grand, and very Titianesque!"

"I think with you, Sir, Mr. Phillips is certainly a sterling artist, a very superior portrait painter, one indeed whose works support the high character of the British school." What a figure we make in the humorous department, hey!" said a lively amateur, who knows, and is known to almost all the professors. "Why, we shall have a score of Hozarths, and as many Wilkies, ere long."

whom he accosted.

"They have to take some mighty strides in painting before they reach either of these, though," replied the painter|| "True," admitted the amateur, "I will not insist upon their high merits in the executive, but in the inventive part, surely you will grant them some applause. First, I will mention a subject that I have just left, one that tells the story well. That sort of malade imaginaire, the Monsieur de Pourceaugnac. No, no, I mean the Patient in spite of himself, by Newton. Surely that is a clever, lively, I was going to say, admirable piece. Is it not full of humour?"

"Yes, certainly," replied the painter, "it is replete with humour; it made me laugh most heartily; it is very spirited, very dramatic; indeed it has considerable merit, and seems a great favourite with the public. It is rather outre to be sure, but then it is a French Farce. The costume is quite national. He has hit off the days of Moliere tout cracher."

"Do you not think the painting very masterly ?" enquired the amateur.

"What a fine style of portrait, Mr. Alfred Chalon has struck out this season! You noticed them I presume-I mean his tinted drawings in water colours."

"Tinted drawings! Sir, they are magnificent paintings in small. Poor Edridge! He used to fill these spaces. How many years have I stood before his works and admired their cleverness, for all his manner, and occasional stiffness."

"Yes, Sir," observed the amateur," but he was taking great strides latterly; he was a most improving artist. His more recent productions were very like Sir Joshua Reynolds in small."

"They had their fascinations I own," replied the painter, "but they were wrought too much through the medium of that great prototype--they were too Sir Joshuaish, and smacked more of his manner than of his feeling. I thought artist in his way. But I liked his own style, better than he attempted too much. He was, however, an excellent his latter manner."

"Well! I agree with you, I bow to your better judgment." "Now, as for Chalon," resumed the painter, "there is a fire and spirit about these portrait compositions, that gives us something new in art again. I admire them ten times more than his miniature portraits on ivory, there his talent was cramped, whilst in these there is scope for his imagination. He can here give loose to his feelings, the style admits a display of his powers at composition, and the material is obsequious to the will of his commanding hand. I should pronounce them the most spirited drawings that have been seen, perfectly original, and worthy the pencil of Vandyck. He has hit upon his forte, and mark my words; you know-as the Americans would say that I have a pretty particular considerable spice of the prophet,-mark my words, you will see, peradventure we all live hence, from his prolific taste-for this is only the commencement of a new æra with him-a surpassing class of drawings, that will make the cognoscenti marvel!"

"How he splashes the white about these drawings, hey!" "Yes, by the Lord!" added the painter, "it is an almost audacious attempt, but he has proved himself master of the weapon-a bold aim, but he has cast it home!"

EXHIBITION OF THE SOCIETY OF BRITISH

ARTISTS,

SUFFOLK STREET, PALL MALL.

(Continued from page 83.)

The First.

CONVERSING lately with a foreign artist upon the subject of topographical painting in England, he observed, that the superior picturesqueness of the ancient towns on the Continent, had only been made known to their inhabitants, even to the painters, by the instrumentality of the English professors of that department of art, who had travelled thither since the peace. This intelligent gentleman further observed, had your painters resided amidst this scenery, which they pourtray with such consummate skill, it is likely they might have remained as unconscious of its pictorial affinity as ourselves. Illustrating his position by assuring us, that an eminent foreign artist on his return from the British metropolis, where he resided but a few weeks, produced a portfolio of sketches of "Peeps in London," which he declared struck him as one of the most picturesque cities he had ever beheld. It appears, that its novelty, for he had travelled much, was the cause of his admiration. That it has few attractions for the native topographers is evident, from the paucity of pictures that we meet with, descriptive of any features of its vast site in our public exhibitions, or our private collections.

resque. The combinations of old houses, wharfs,
shipping, boats, and various craft, well grouped, with
the bustle of the scite, is truly characteristic. The
light and shadow are well arranged, and the colouring
has that general appearance of nature, which alone can
result from attentive observation, and local imitation.
It approximates, however, to extravagance of colour, a
fault which practice well directed, will soon overcome.
Had it been more carefully finished, it had been much
more estimable-and this would have demanded but
little additional thinking, and we should hope not any
uninteresting labour. There is great promise upon the
face of the few pictures which we have seen by this
artist: we look forward for much from his pencil, and
rely upon his good taste and obvious talent, for the ac-
complishment of our expectations.

VIEW OF ST. ALBAN'S ABBEY, AND VIEW ON THE ROAD TO
ST. ALBAN'S. PAINTED BY P. NASMYTH.
Were it the custom to cherish those unchristian preju-

dices, which, bounded by this side the Tweed, existed half

a century ago, we know not how we could have endured that influx of genius and talent, which of late has crossed from its opposite banks, and found its way onward to the ings upon the subject of painting and poetry in the north, British metropolis. Happily, we have now no other feelthan as they expand the heart with generous gratulations, on knowing that the culture of the fine arts is still more widely diffusing the blessings of civilization to each region of our native island. The name of Nasmyth had long been familiar to our ears, long indeed before our eyes were capable of judging, whether his reputation partook of those national feelings, which are so patriotically obnoxious to the decrying of the genius of Scotia. When we saw his pic

Mr. Stanfield however, may be numbered among the few English artists, who have, of late at least, cho-tures, we found that his talents had not been overrated. sen a subject for the pencil, within the extent of our great town. His view of Westminster Abbey, now in the collection of His Grace the Duke of Bedford, was a work which attracted at the last exhibition at the British Gallery. It displayed considerable talent, and wanted but the little more, to make it of much greater worth.

We were attracted in this exhibition, by a truly picturesque peep into the purlieus of the famed City of Antwerp-the birth place of the "Prince of Painters," and much pleased with our visit to the spot. If the modern artists, natives of that once picture loving city, could look without a painter's eye on such a scene, we have abundant evidence that their illustrious predecessors had better taste; for every celebrated collection affords some choice specimens of Flemish topography of old; indeed this fascinating branch of art, originated with the ingenious wights of the low countries. That a love for these compositions should have revived in our time, at all, inclines us to rejoice; but that its revival should be traced to the superior feeling of our artists, makes us proud.

Mr. Stanfield, a young artist, we presume-at least a rising painter, has chosen a good theme for this display of his art-and he has treated it with a general knowledge of the requisites for such a subject, that is very creditable to his talent. The scene is richly pictu

There are two of this name, we believe, father and son. The author of these pictures is the younger it seems, and the superior artist. In all the works of Mr. Nasmyth we perceive something like sameness; indeed, sweetly as he touches the leafage of his trees, and spiritedly as he pencils the bark, or marks the furrows in the road, or depicts a rock; bright as are his skies, cool and fresh as is the water, and luminous as is the atmosphere of his pictures; yet, there is generally so little proportion of merit displayed in tributes, that we consider his works entitled but to half the the composition of his scenes, compared with their other atpraise which he might earn, by attention to this important division of a pictorial design.

We are not ever looking for the epic. We admire the grand of Poussin, and the homely of Hobbima, but the sinple village scenes of this admired painter, are well studied. Every division of his pictures is fitting: here a road, there a path. His trees are carefully grouped, and every peep and turn of his landscape is compatible with the reality of lity, and his pictures have much of the character of the old his design. Mr. Nasmyth appears to paint with great faciFlemish masters in freshness and dexterous execution. We find much to admire in all his ingenious labours, although his compositions are generally wanting in that sentiment and feeling which characterize the landscapes of the superior artists of the English school.

THE FIRST SIGHT OF WOMAN. PAINTED BY C. LANDSEER. We read in the Lives of the Fathers, a story "of a childe that was brought up in the wilderness from his infancy, by an old Hermite: now come to man's estate, hee saw by chance two comely women wandering in the woods; hee

asked the old man, what creatures they were? Hee told him fayries. After awhile talking obiter, the hermite de

manded of him which was the pleasantest sight he ever saw in his life? He readily replied, the two fayries he spied in the wilderness."

According to another (and perhaps better) version of the story, the bermit is made to reply to the young man, "Those creatures are geese."-" Geese!" returned the youth, "I should have thought they had been swans at least!"

collection, but has established his reputation by so excel||lent an example of his recent improvement in landscape painting.

Much as has been observed upon the prevalence of landscape compositions in this exhibition, it yet continues to attract. To the observant eye, every master will afford a charm by the style with which he imitates nature; and to Could a father choose the shape in which he would have those of competent perceptions, whether a collection be all his sons receive the gift of any temporal blessing, were he landscape, or all portrait, if composed of works of original an artist, we should say he judged wisely in preferring geni-merit, enough variety will be found to excite interest and us for them, that they might excel in art. Mr. Landseer create delight. surely is eminently favoured in possessing sons who have thus early demonstrated so genial a talent for painting. Of Mr. Edwin Landseer, we have spoken as we felt, that he was an honor to the English school. The brother, judging from what we had seen before, and from this very creditable specimen of his talent for a higher department of art, promises also to become an accomplished painter.

He has selected a very pretty popular story for this essay of his talent, and has illustrated it with taste and judgment, The figure of the youth is carefully drawn, and well studied -the expression is felt. We recognize no attempt at manner or style in this composition. It is an unassuming and faithful example of his progress in art, with his views of nature, which he appears to behold with his own eye, and with that correct and right feeling, which alone leads to the perfection we seek in the works of the Italian school.

However strange it might appear to those who seek exhibitions for mere amusement, yet, to those conversant in art -to the enquiring amateur, the more frequently this, or any other collection of paintings of any school is seen, the greater wil! be the developement of the variety of which it is constituted: for by a recurrence of comparing one work with another, the greater will be found the diversity of each master's manner of imitating nature. To knowledge thus acquired, must be adduced the foundation of the art of connoisseurship-an art delightful in every step, and to a certain extent, of easy attainment-without which the most interesting attributes of painting, sculpture, architecture, poetry, and music, are unfelt and unseen.

The visits of an indifferent idler and the amateur to these repositories of art, may be compared to the listless tourist, who rambles without any object but that of change of place, and the enlightened traveller, who visits various regions to improve his knowledge by research. To one, a second visit to this collection would appear monotonous,

EXHIBITION OF THE SOCIETY OF PAINTERS for the pleasure would last no longer than the eye had re

IN WATER COLOURS,

PALL-MALL EAST.

(Continued from p. 84.)

BOYS AND SHEEP, SCENE BELOW GRAVESEND, PAINTED BY
D. COX.

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS has observed that a painter who knew his art, is less fastidious in choosing his subject, than in his manner of treating it. This great painter illustrated the axiom by his practice. We know from his own assertion, that he never contemned his prototype; on the contrary, he considered nature, unless in a state of deformity, always sufficient for his model, and imitated what he saw with all the fervour of his art. Hence he stamped a sterling value upon even the least of his works. His illustrious friend Johnson, on being asked, when in a gracious humour, how it happened that he excelled all others in his colloquial powers, answered, "if he possessed such superiority, it possibly might arise from his habit, from an early period, of never speaking upon any subject but in the best and most appropriate language."

This landscape scene, is such as every county in our verdant isle abundantly supplies. It has no grand-no romantic features, it is a simple pastoral subject, the like of which, indeed, may be found in the vicinity of every village and every farm. Yet it is treated with that sentiment, which embraces all the pictorial charms that delight the admirers of nature, clothed in her rural garb. It is rich in herbage, screened with wood, and diversified by water, and interests the true judge of art, equally with the grandest epic compositions. It comprises the genuine attributes of picturesque of landscape, and in colour emulates the splen

dour of Rembrandt.

In this picture, then, we have an illustration of what the greatest of painters inculcated in his precepts. Mr. Cox has taken for his theme, what one of inferior talent would have thought unworthy of notice, and by his consummate skill, has rendered it not only one of the finest works in the

ferred to the catalogue, and the impatient imagination had hastened over each scene; whilst, to the other, the same scene would offer enough to arrest his curiosity, and lead him to explore the site.

Varley's style is bold, determined, and lucid; Fielding's chaste and elegant; Prout's vast and powerful; Barrett's learned, rich, and solemn; Cox's splendid and glowing; Cristall's classic, broad, and unaffected; Robson's unartificial and grand; Stephanoff's delicate and beautiful; Turner's fresh and natural; Wild's learned and splendid; Nash's grand and gorgeous; Mackensie's scientific and true. We know that this estimate may excite a supercilious smile: but, if it appear too highly coloured, we recom mend a reference to the works themselves, by these the able and original professors of this new art-and that it be borne in mind, that the material with which these works are wought, have attained to this unprecedented scale of force under their ingenious hands.

REVIEWS.

Memoir of the Life and Character of the Right Hon. Edmund Burke; with specimens of his Poetry and Letters, and an estimate of his Genius and Talents, compared with those of his great Contemporaries. By JAMES PRIOR, Esq. London: Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy. 8vo. 1824.

SOMETHING of this sort has long been wanted. The biographies of Burke hitherto published, are poor affairs: one of them the scum of party venom; the other a worthless compilation of newspaper paragraphs, parliamentary reports, and town-talk. Mr. Prior has had access to better authorities, and though not overstocked with wisdom, has used them with discretion and judgment. Knowing many of the family and friendly connexions of Burke, he has been enabled to

give us more details of the earlier portion of that great man's life. This indeed, with some domestic anecdotes | and a few heretofore unpublished letters, forms the chief|| excellence of the present memoirs.

went as private Secretary to Ireland, and received a pension of £300 a-year. This he enjoyed for no more than eighteen months, when from the unreasonable and degrading claims made upon his gratitude, it was thrown up with indignation. Burke thus speaks of the facts || in a letter to the celebrated Mr. Flood :—

Whatever our inclination may be, still we do not mean to enter into any examination of the political character of Burke. It has been much misunderstood "It is very true that there is an eternal rupture between and strangely misrepresented, but to his biographer and me and Hamilton, which was on my side neither sought not to us, belongs the task of explanation and defence. nor provoked; for though his conduct in public affairs has Burke was certainly a very able, if not a very great man. been for a long time directly contrary to my opinions, very No person of his time possessed a larger capacity for reproachful to himself, and extremely disgustful to me; and though in private he has not justly fulfilled one of his acquiring knowledge, a higher faculty of attention and engagements to me, yet I was so uneasy and awkward at industry, a more acute perception of the relations of coming to a breach, where I had once a close and intimate things, and a more forcible and eloquent mode of com- friendship, that I continued with a kind of desperate fidelimunicating his knowledge and reflections to the world.ty to adhere to his cause and person; and when I found Some faults of personal character dimmed the lustre and missive measures as I never before could prevail upon him greatly disposed to quarrel with me, I used such subimpeded the beneficial employment of those great en- myself to use to any man. dowments, but no one can reasonably question the benevolent intentions of their possessor. As to any charges against the integrity of Burke, they are utterly contemptible. Such accusations are engendered in the pestilential hot bed of party, and prove nothing but the malignity of their supporters. The clouds which hung over the latter years of Burke's life are gradually melting away, and his character shines forth in the fulness, beauty and purity of its moral proportions. "For what I have been," said he, "I put myself upon my country." The decision of that country has been, and will be honourable to both.

The occasion of our difference was not any act whatsoever on my part; it was entirely on his, by a voluntary but most insolent and intolerable demand, amounting to no less than a claim of servitude during the whole course of my life, without leaving me at any time a power either of getting forward with honour, or of retiring with tranquillity. This was really and truly the substance of his desome degree of indignation to submit. On this we ceased mand upon me, to which I need not tell you I refused with to see each other, or to correspond a good while before you left London. He then commenced, through the intervention of others, a negociation with me, in which he showed as much of meanness in his proposals as he had done of arrogance in his demands; but as all these proposals were vitiated by the taint of that servitude with which they were all mixed, his negociation came to nothing.

series of persons, this paltry business was contrived to pass. Now, though I was sensible that I owed this pension to the it had come from Hamilton's pocket, instead of being degood will of the Primate in a great degree, and though, if rived from the Irish treasury, I had earned it by a long and laborious attendance, and might, in any other than that unfortunate connexion, have got a much better thing; yet to get rid of him completely, and not to carry a memorial of such a person about me, I offered to transmit it to his attorney in trust for him. This offer he thought proper to accept. I beg pardon, my dear Flood, for troubling you so long on a subject which ought not to employ a moment of your thoughts, and never shall again employ a moment

The chronological parts of this biography are indubitably correct, and there seems to be no reason for "He grounded these monstrous claims (such as never were before heard of in this country) on that pension which questioning any of the earlier details. It would seem he had procured for me through Colonel Cunninghame, that the family of Burke was not so obscure and indi-the late Primate, and Lord Halifax, for, through all that gent as has generally been supposed, for he received a liberal education, was allowed during his first residence in London, £200 a year, and acquired from his family at various times, a sum little short of £20,000. In his boyhood he excited the attention, and received the praise of his instructors, evincing great aptitude for learning, and a ripeness of judgment beyond his years. At the university his course was graced with college honors, and Mr. Prior has cited some of his poetry written at that period. It is decentish, and nothing more. This, however, is the first time that we had heard of Burke's poetical attempts. His visit to London, and first attempts in literature are related by Mr. Prior in a simple and intelligible manner, and throw a strong light upon the variety of his resources-the inflexibility of his diligence, and the strength of his hopes. Of his earlier works we have no room to speak, nor is it necessary. They are before the public, and Mr. P. tells us no anecdotes about them which are worth extracting.

The rising fame of Burke introduced him to all who were distinguished for wit and literature in the metropolis, and his own great acquirements placed him on a level with the most eminent. Through his own merit and the recommendation of Single-Speech Hamilton, he

of mine."

The incidents of Burke's life were from this time

before the public, and we are not called upon to abridge them from the present volume. We shall give some extracts from his letters to Barry the painter. They'

are excellent:

"With regard to your studies, you know, my dear Barry, my opinion. I do not choose to lecture you to death; but to say all I can in a few words, it will not do for a man qualified like you to be a connoisseur and a sketcher.-You must be an artist; and this you cannot be but by drawing with the last degree of noble correctness. Until you can draw beauty with the last degree of truth and precision, you will not consider yourself possessed of that faculty. This power will not hinder you from passing to the great style when you please; if your character should, as I ima

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