Here his first occupation in the early winter mornings was at the "bouncing flail.""By the time the six o'clock bell began to ring, the first thrieve was well nigh threshed out, and the bundles of straw were rising in a formidable heap before the barn-door, where they were always flung when the mornings were fair. In about half an hour the gude man made his appearance, took the flail from the wee man, and sent him into the stables to look after the horses. At eight o'clock we went to breakfast, which was always served up in a large wooden dish-sometimes pease-brose, some. times oatmeal-brose, and sometimes plain parritch. Till far in the spring, every man had a salt herring and bread after the brose or parritch; the herd and the women had to be doing with the brose," &c.

The particulars of the early life and occupations of such men as Burns, Hogg, Bloomfield, or other peasant or mechanic poets, would be acceptable enough; but Mr. Struthers, although a most worthy, industrious, and pious man, resembles Burns and Hogg mainly in the particular of having sprung from the same rank in society. If he were gifted with a fervid fancy and profuse feeling, and could stir the souls and passions, warm the hearts, and delight the imaginations of man

kind, his autobiography would be an interesting and instructive study; but the probability is, that, in that case, the modesty which accompanies great genius would have left the detail of these particulars to another hand. The "Poor Man's Sabbath," however, "The House of Mourning, or the Peasant's Death," and "The Plough," may lay claim to a considerable amount of local popularity. They are well adapted to the grave tastes of the lowland Scottish population, and, although dull, are safe reading; but "Dychmont," a bald imitation of the style of Scott, and most of the minor pieces which form the bulk of the second volume, had been better, we think, for Mr. Struthers' poetical reputation, omitted-though, in truth, it matters not much whether they contribute to increase or to diminish the cir cumscribed renown of this worthy, pious, but conceited body.

Mr.

"Ruins of Many Lands; a descrip. tive poem. By Nicholas Michell, author of The Traduced,' The Eventful Epoch,' &c. Second Edition, enlarged." A very meritorious per formance; not brilliant; somewhat plodding and pedagoguish; but very likely to be a popular book among a large class of readers. The scope of the work is an antiquarian tour of the world; the vehicle, the smooth Popen couplet; the dates and circumstantial historic particulars in notes. Michell is neither an acute antiquary, nor a critical historian, nor a poet of much power; but in a broad, general, unambitious way he communicates instruction and pleasure to the reader of moderate information, in harmonious verses. The succession of ruins is monotonous; the reflections suggested by the series of cognate topics are monotonous; the measure and cadence of the verse are monotonous; yet the effect on the whole is good. It is a poem; it has its unity and individual character. Of course, in such a multitude of topics-embracing every famous monument from the Tower of Babel to the Pyramids of Yucatan-there are occasional mistakes; for example, Mr. Michell makes his reflections

on

the pyramid-tomb of Cestius, under the erroneous impression that it is a pillar; but slips like this

ion-"Aletheia; or, the Doom of Mythology. With other Poems. By William Charles Kent."*

Mr. Kent has chosen a heavy and exhausting theme, entailing the enumeration of an endless catalogue of mythological beings. It is "Lempriere's Dictionary" in verse; yet the subject is warmed and enriched, by a vigorous genius, into a series of beautiful and apposite pictures. The succession of similar forms is far too long, and the panoramic pageant soon palls on the eye; but if we examine the parts separately, we must own that the pictures are individually full of colour, full of body, full-to go to another class of illustration-of succulence: there is not an insipid passage in all that we have, so far, read; yet the general effect of the poem is insipidity. It is impossible to make such a poem popular, or acceptable, even to the more discerning class of readers. To have passed in review the twelve Dii Indigites alone would have been preface enough to the appearance of Christian verity in whose light the Pantheon disappears. But Mr. Kent has written as if he thought the moment for introducing Aletheia could not be thought to have properly arrived until every one of the Gentile divinities-Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Syrian, Indian, German, Sarmatian, and Celtic, and all the smaller impersonations of polytheism, fays and nymphs, water-spirits, and a multitude of names that, in good truth, we never heard of before-had been severally presented to the reader's notice. Even Cloacina is not omitted. The parade is overpowering. In spite of the excellence of the individual pictures, the whole gallery cannot be passed through without excessive tedium. But Keats himself has not fancied more delicious images than meet us in many of the stanzas. How rich is the introduction; though the first line recalls, perhaps, too palpably to the ear the commencement of the Hyperion :

"Deep in the mellow shadows of a copse,

Where the ripe filbert sheds its ample nut, Where from the burgeon'd bough the fir-cone drops,

And red leaves moulder in the wheel-worn rut,

Couched on the verdant sod, alone I lay, While fraught with glory died the glimmering day.

And through the grass, with coil of snakish gloss,

Curl'd the dun roots of autumn, fledg'd with

moss.

"Among the fern, in brightest green array'd, Chequer'd with saffron and vermilion stains,

The furtive lizard in the sunlight stray'd,

Emitting lustre from its dappled veins ; In 'mid-air droned the evening gnat its horn, An insect requiem o'er the hour forlorn."

Again, in the polytheism of the woods and glades, how rich and full of succulence :

"Light waves the linden where, beneath the rind,

Philyra's passion pulsates with the sap; Dark lowers the yew that yet with aspect kind Doth cherish Smilax in its leafy lap; While Leucothoe, with delight intense, Is rock'd on branches yielding frankincense.

"Broad spreads the umbrageous oak, whose knotted bole

The fern in feather'd verdure nestles round, Whose glutinous apples on the greensward roll, Where podded acorns strew the dipping ground.

"Where Thisbe bleeds upon the gnarled root,

Under the umbrage of the trysting tree, The lavish mulberry drops its melting fruit,

Redder and richer than the wine-vat's lee: There suicidal Pyramus complains, Flush'd with the ruddy ebbing of his veins."

Again, rebuilding in imagination the symbolic temple of the Gentile gods, how splendid are his architectural solecisms:

"And ever thus, to those who but believe

The gorgeous host as visible becomes As stars that blink through sheen of summer

eve,

As cactus petals bleeding rosy gums, As, tumbling to the smooth, moss-cushion'd plot,

From crumbling core, the yellow apricot.

They rise around me in the silent dell, Where contemplation hath allur'd my feet, Till bursts the bindweed like an asphodel,

Till with nectareous streams the rills com

pete;

While Fancy waving her vivific wand,Wide, and more wide, the vision'd joys expand.

cognise the combination of excellencies in detail with general effectiveness. As it is, our praises, if they be of any value to him, must be reluctantly but half-given and half-withheld.

Thoughts from the Inner Circle." The preface states that, "in the summer of 1848, a few friends agreed to meet for the purpose of obtaining close and intimate intercourse upon the great questions affecting the interests of hu manity." Our readers may remember that passage in the "Memoirs of P. P., Clerk of this Parish," in which he informs us--

"It was in these days I bethought myself that much profit might accrue unto our parish, and even unto the nation, could there be assembled together a number of chosen men of the right spirit, who might argue, refine, and define upon high and great matters.”

The "Inner Circle" appears to have been much such another convention. Among their themes were the Age, the Railway, Society, Friendship, Truth, the Future, the Progress of Knowledge. They treated those subjects in verse; the rythm is, for the most part, Tennysonian of Locksby Hall; the sen timents philanthropic, the principles democratic, the performance feeble. Tennyson and Mr. and Mrs. Browning appear to have been the models chiefly followed. The authors excuse the publication of their crudities on the plea of being "desirous that others should adopt a plan which has been of so much importance to their own individual culture." The cultivation of any other crop would have been, in our judgment, a more profitable, as well as more suitable occupation, for Messrs. Langford, Harris, Lathem, and the rest of our cyclical poets.

"Poems;" by William Allingham.t Mr. Allingham's name has hitherto only been known in connexion with two or three dreamy trifles, not quite free from the affected obscurity which, among the exquisites of the London school, passes for depth, but elegantly polished, and evidently proceeding from an accomplished mind. We are most truly and sincerely delighted to find that these foibles only characterise a few of Mr. Alling