versions. We must make room to cite one passage, the sentiments of which cannot be too widely circulated, or too often brought into notice.

My reasons for attempting (under many articles of the Lexicon) to explain the Scriptures, and referring to them, are thus stated in my Answer to a Pseudo-Criticism. The most distinguished among the classic scholars of the eighteenth century, it is well known, paid little attention to the Scriptures, and therefore were little conversant in biblical learning. While they studied with the utmost zeal, and examined with the minutest care, the writings of Greece and Rome, the oracles of God they thought to be either beneath their notice or beyond their province. The cultivation of the Greek language is productive of many great and solid advantages; and the chief, in my opinion, is, that it enables every scholar to draw sacred truth, pure and unmixed, from the original fountain, without any regard to the traditions of men. I wished to encourage this use of classic literature, by applying it to the elucidation of obscure or mistaken passages in the New Testament. In doing this, it was my fixed purpose to confine myself to general principles of criticism, without seeking to invalidate any article of general belief on the one hand, or to countenance obnoxious sentiments on the other. I chose for my models the brightest ornaments of the English Church, Kennicott, Lowth, Sir William Jones, Watson, Paley, and Parr; and I felt that if, in any degree, I were animated by the same spirit which inspired these great men, and kept within the limits of their views, I should have nothing to fear from the calumnies of gloomy bigots." p. xxiv.

We do not wonder that Dr. Jones could not resist the desire of annexing to his Preface, a laudatory letter from the late mighty Grecian, Dr. PARR.

πελώριος, έρκος, Αχαίων, Μηδίοων βλοσυροισι προσωπασι.

Nor can we deny ourselves the satisfaction of transcribing a part of this eulogy:

"Do not suppose that I have lost sight of your great talents, or your great literary attainments, or your great kindness in sending me a copy of your Lexicon. I have examined it again and again; and I have no hesitation in pronouncing it the work of a man of sense, and a man of learning. The usefulness of it is indisputable, and my hope is, that it will be extensively known, and justly valued. Even when I dissent from n you, I see strong vestiges of your acuteness and your

erudition."

.

Art. VI. Tremaine; or the Man of Refinement. In Three Volumes, small 8vo. London. 1825.

WE are somewhat at a loss how to deal with this publication, since its pretensions seem nearly equally divided between the honours due to an original treatise on moral philosophy, and the less imposing claims connected with the attractive form and decorations of fictitious narrative. The result of this ambitious endeavour to combine qualities not merely dissimilar, but conflicting, is by no means advantageous to the general effect. Both the gay and the serious portions of the tale are encumbered by the metaphysical discussions, which intervene with a very disagreeable suspension of the interest previously excited; and we suspect that a large class of readers will yield to the temptation of passing over those parts of the volumes where the Author has evidently put forth his utmost strength.

Tremaine, the hero of the tale, is represented as an amiable, honourable, and accomplished man, labouring under one of the most tormenting of mental diseases, a sickly and fastidious refinement, which incapacitates him for the enjoyment of life, either in the abstract or the concrete. He has touched nearly all the varieties of existence, and receded from them all. Love, law, arms, ambition, fail him in the essay. He quarrels with one young lady, because he picks up an old garter; with another, because she eats peas with a knife; he detects a third in reading Tom Jones; yet, rather capriciously, admires a fourth for studying Marmontel, a writer whose compositions are quite as exceptionable, on the score of morality, as those of Fielding. Once, indeed, his heart had been more seriously agitated, by an interesting and innocent girl, who, in the absence of a former lover, was fascinated by Tremaine, but resumed her earlier attachment on the departure of the latter, and the reappearance of her first favourite. Annoyed by the bustle of society, and disgusted at the ill-conceited selfishness of the world, this high-minded, though indolent and self-indulgent man sequesters himself in his country seat, but, unluckily for his eremetical plans, finds in his immediate vicinity, a lovely and accomplished girl, before whose beauty, worth, and sweetness, all his misanthropical resolutions

Fly, like the moon-eyed herald of dismay,

Chased on his night-steed by the star of day.

Notwithstanding the disparity between twenty and thirtyeight, Georgina Evelyn cherishes a deeply rooted affection for her wayward lover; their union is, however, prevented by the discovery that, among his other freaks, Tremaine has been

fastidious enough to take umbrage at the great verities of religion, and that he is sceptical as to the existence of a superintending providence. Evelyn, the father of Georgina, is a clergyman, and although he witnesses the failure of his daughter's health under the struggle between her principles and her attachment, he steadily maintains his resolution, until the infidelity of Tremaine is beaten down by argument, when the gloom is scattered, and all becomes happiness and bright anticipation.

We cannot say that all this is very skilfully managed. With much cleverness in parts, there is a heaviness and incongruity about the whole. Nor is the general interest in any way assisted by the obtrusion of party politics. We feel it, however, difficult to support these strictures by specific reference. The Writer's gayeties are scarcely to be exemplified without larger citation than we are in the habit of conceding on similar occasions; and with regard to his metaphysical gravities, although we have no dislike to an occasional discussion of such matters, we prefer choosing our own text. A middle course will suit us best; and as a recent attempt has been made to naturalize among us one of the most mischievously intended works of Voltaire, we shall adopt the following just strictures on the peculiar character of that malignant infidel, as an assailant of Christianity.

"Now, then, if you please, for the ridicule which, you say, has so shaken you upon our late awful subject."

"I alluded to Voltaire," answered Tremaine.

"I thought as much," observed Evelyn; " and I very much fear you mean in the trash of the Dictionnaire Philosophique.

"It is true," said Tremaine.

"This, in a man of your class and character of mind, is not what I expected!" exclaimed Evelyn. "But will you point out the instances of this attempt at wit? for of wit itself, on these subjects, I have no hesitation to say he had none."

"Voltaire no wit !" exclaimed Tremaine.

"That I did not say," replied Evelyn; "on the contrary, I have willingly laughed with him, in his Contes, as well as wept with him in his Tragedies; his ease and elegance, on almost whatever subject he handles, delight me; but I am equally moved, not merely with detestation at his impiety, but with wonder at the empty impudence with which he attempts to support it. Hume had some learning; Bolingbroke, at least, borrowed some; Epicurus made a great sect; and Cicero every where keeps the mind on the stretch; but for this wit of yours, if he had written nothing else, I should have only thought him a fool."

""Can you blame me, however," said Tremaine; his wit, for paying tribute to it when I find it ?"

you,

who own

"“By no means," answered Evelyn; "but I deny the wit which presumes to prepare us for laughing, by imposing upon us what we know to be false; and I am at a loss to understand how a man of judgment can be dazzled by sophisms so glaring, and, therefore, so contemptible, that I know not which to wonder at most, their idiotcy, or their impudence."

"To what do you particularly apply this severity?" asked Tremaine.

"Possibly to what you may have thought most witty," replied Evelyn. "Take, for example, his illustration of the soul, by the clapper of a bellows, the body being, as he says, the bellows itself. There is a clapper to it,' he says, which gives it motion and use, and which I have made for it,' he adds, under the name of soul. Yet the bellows can be pulled to pieces, and the poor soul goes with it.' What child does not see that the bellows and the clapper are all one machine; that, indeed, the machine cannot be a bellows, but a mere piece of wood, without the clapper: and if he must have a comparison for the soul, it can only be the hand that uses it, and sets it in motion. This is wholly distinct, you see, from its body, and so far is for us; yet you, perhaps, have formerly laughed at this, Mr. Tremaine!"

•“ Formerly, I confess I have: certainly, not of late.”

"And why not?"

"Not because what you say ought not to have been obvious before,” replied Tremaine; "but because from my humour at the time, some mist must have been before my eyes, which is now much removed."

“You rejoice me,” said Evelyn, “and I will not therefore go on; otherwise I would wish you to consider the truth and fairness with which he asks if the Creator would condescend (alluding to the Jews) to be the King of usurers and old-clothesmen? The wit, you see, is in calling the subjects of the Almighty by these disgusting names. Yet the wit is a lie; for he has wilfully confounded the modern with the ancient Jews. Again, he is witty, to be sure, in asking what is meant by going up to heaven, when in the planetary system there is neither upwards nor downwards; and is most especially facetious when he says this heaven of ours is nothing more than a parcel of clouds and vapours. Who does not see (I am sure the merest child will) that he here wilfully confounds the atmosphere which surrounds the earth, and which we call heaven in physics, with the happy place, whatever it is, which we designate by that name in religion ?”

"This is true," said Tremaine.

"Of a piece with this," pursued Evelyn," are his sneers at the sacred story, where, labouring through falsehoods of his own invention, he tells you that the Patriarch Abraham found it convenient to pass off a beautiful wife for a sister, in order that he might make money of her, by disposing of her beauty to the King of Egypt. The whole wit is here lost, because the statement is a lie. Were I to go into all the blasphemies of the Dictionnaire Philosophique, and examine their witty dress, which seems so to have dazzled your imagi. nation............"

"My dear friend," interrupted Tremaine, "I will spare you the trouble; I have long given up, upon these subjects, even the wit of Voltaire." Vol. III. pp. 107-110.

We do not know whether there exists any tolerable translation of the admirable Letters of certain Portuguese Jews to M. de Voltaire,' written by the Abbé Guenée. If not, it ought to be executed forthwith. With wit superior to that of the sneering infidel, and with knowledge and argument before which the empty cavils of the Malade de Ferney are scattered to the winds, the Abbé follows his antagonist through all his blunders and misrepresentations, and, with an urbanity that tempers his severest sarcasms, holds up to public ridicule and shame the exposed and baffled gainsayer.

Art. VII. 1. An Account of the Rise, Progress, and Decline of the Fever lately Epidemical in Ireland, together with Communications from Physicians in the Provinces, and various Official Documents. By F. Barker, M.D. and J. Cheyne, M.D. F.R.S. Ed. 2 vols. 8vo. London, 1821.

2. An Historic Sketch of the Causes, Progress, Extent, and Mortality of the Contagious Fever Epidemic in Ireland, during the Years 1817, 1818, and 1819; with numerous Tables, Official Documents, and Private Communications, &c. By W. Harty, M.B. 1 vol 8vo. Dublin, 1820.

(Concluded from page 269.)

T has been always admitted, that Fever assumes very various modifications under peculiar diversities of circumstances; and the subdivision of Continued Fever into different genera or species, has presented itself under greatly diversified aspects to medical observers. It must be admitted, that medical writers have commonly erred in multiplying the species of fever; they have assumed as diagnostic signs of the respective species, circumstances which have had their origin either in local or temporary peculiarities, and which, therefore, have had nothing permanent or uniform in their character. To this cause we must attribute many of the changes which are obvious on comparing the opinions of medical writers on the subject of fever, at periods of time remote from each other. Cullen, who possessed a comprehensive mind, and a sound, perspicuous judgement, conferred an important service on medical science, by arranging, in his Nosology, the numerous species of Fever described by preceding writers, under a very small number of genera. He considered typhus as a distinct genus, possessed of a contagious character, and marked by peculiar