horrors which are destitute of interest; and a pompous phraseology that only betrays the barrenness of the sentiments. Art. 25. The Inquisition. 2 Vols. small 8vo. 6s. sewed. Vernor and Hood. To those who make a general practice of novel reading, we may recommend these volumes, for they might easily have worse of the -kind. Those, however, who occasionally peruse works of fiction as a recreation from severer studies, will be but little satisfied with this. The merely fictitious part is not destitute of fancy: but to just and accurate discrimination of character, and to all the higher qualities of the novel, the work before us has very small pretensions. Art. 26. MECHANICs, &c. Experimental Enquiry concerning the natural Powers of Wind and Water to turn Mills and other Machines, depending on a circular Motion; and an Experimental Examination of the Quantity and Proportion of Mechanic Power, necessary to be employed in giving different Degrees of Velocity to heavy Bodies from a State of Rest. Also new Fundamental Experiments upon the Collision of Bodies. With five Plates of Machines. By the late Mr. John Smeaton, F. R. S. 8vo. 4s. 6d. Boards. Taylor. The several treatises here collected into one volume were published in the 51st, 66th, and 72d volumes of the Philosophical Transactions; and an account was given of them in the 23d, 57th, and 69th volumes of the M. R. As they relate to subjects that are interesting to the practical mechanic, and derive singular value from the established reputation of the author, the re-publication of them in the present form will be acceptable to many persons, who have no opportu nity of referring to the volumes of the Transactions in which they first appeared. POETRY and DRAMATIC. Art. 27. The War of the Giants; by an Admirer of Thomas Sternhold and John Hopkins. To which is added a Dialogue between John Bull and one of his Friends. With Notes. 4to. 25. Johnson. 1797 We have here a right pithy and delectable poeme in celebration of the war between the allied powers [the giants of Europe] and the republicans of France. The work is humbly conceived in strains Sternholdian,' and is equally worthy with those divine prototypes, of being sung or said in all churches and chapels within the realm of England, dominion of Wales, and town of Berwick upon Tweed; for the godly solace and comfort of the people: laying apart all ungodly songs and ballads."-The present admirer of Messrs. the truly admirable doers of the Psalms is not, however, like his pious and duteous precursors, so loyally attached to the righteous princes of the earth, as to be incapable of discerning their errors, or marking their misdeeds; and, accordingly, we find him far from espousing implicitly the cause of the giants. The following verses will, in some measure, signify unto us by what spirit his Muse is inspired : • None • None of their measures prosper'd well, To see how oft the wind and rain Were on the wicked side !'— In the dialogue between John Bull and his friend, the poet taketh a large stride indeed! and attempteth the manner of Pope's Satires : but herein we deem him not altogether so successful as when he keepeth in view the ekeing and ayeing Bards of other times. Art. 28. Prison Amusements, and other Trifles: principally written during nine Months of Confinement in the Castle of York. By Paul Positive. Small 8vo. pp. 200. 4s. Boards. Johnson. 1797These Trifles, as the author modestly calls them, have considerable merit; for the poetry is natural, elegant, and in some instances affecting. The following, we think, will induce the reader to wish for an acquaintance with the other poetical pieces contained in this little volume: • Verses to a Robin Redbreast who visits the windows of my prison every day. Welcome, pretty little stranger! Now though tyrant Winter howling Shakes the world with tempests round; Heaven above with vapours scowling, Frost imprisons all the ground;- Thou art blest with liberty. Though yon fair majestic river* Mourns in solid icy chains; Though yon flocks and cattle shiver, Robin, thou art gay and free, Happy in thy liberty. Soon shall spring, in smiles and blushes, Thy sweet song shall warble clear;- • Should some rough unfeeling Dobbin, Seize thee on thy nest, my Robin! In the crown of earthly joys! All delights besides are toys. In the last line but one, me is improperly substituted for I; as the construction of the sentence requires that the pronoun personal should be in the nominative case. sent age. In his preface, the author informs us that he is very young: we may therefore form just hopes of improvement, as his taste is simple and unaffected, and very unlike some fine writers of poetry in the preHe promises a more voluminous work, should this small volume meet with public approbation. We advise him to endeavour to attain an early habit of fastidious correction, that his natural powers may sustain no drawback of applause on account of violations of artificial rules. Art. 29. A Cure for the Heart-ache; a Comedy, in five Acts, as performed at the Theatre-Royal, Covent-Garden. By Thomas Morton, Esq. 8vo. 29. Longman. 1797. The wit of our modern comedies consists for the most part of grimace, and even those which are the best attended are indebted for their success rather to a favourite actor than to their own merits. Of these puny productions, the term of whose existence is restricted to one or at most two winters, the present is not one of the worst that we have lately seen. To give an analysis of it would be beneath the dignity of criticism: but, for the entertainment of our readers, and by way of sample of the piece, we select the following extract: Enter FRANK. Frank. How do you do, sur? Vortex. What! interrupted again!-Approach, don't be afraid. Frank. Lord, sur, I bean't afcard; why should I?—I defies the devil and all his works. Vortex. If this be what is called rough honesty, give me a little smooth-tongn'd roguery. I don't know you, fellow! Frank. Ees, sur, you do-I be's Frank Oatland. • Frank. Frank. Ees, sur, you do-I've a bit of a sister call'd Jessy. • Frank (aside). Dom um, he knaws me well enough now. Vortex. Oh! very true-Frank Oatland, aye! Well, good Frank, how is Jessy? Frank. Charming, sur! charming! Vortex. Aye, that she is, lovely and charming, indeed! (aside).— And how are you, Frank? • Frank. I be's charming too, sur! Vortex. But why don't Jessy visit my people here? I should be always happy to see her. • Frank. Should you, sur? Why, if I may be so bold as to ax, why, sur? Vortex. Because-because-she is-a-farmer Oatland's child. • Frank. So be I, sur. How comes it, then, that you never axes I to your balls and ostentations? I can dance twice as long as sister can. Vortex. Cunning fellow this!-I must buy him. Well, Frank, what are your commands? Frank. Why, sur, Feyther do command you to lend him three hundred pounds-no, sur, I mean he supplicates. • Vortex. Three hundred pounds! Frank. I'll tell you, sur, all about it You knaw, sur, Feyther, have been knuckled out of a most cruel sight of money by you at weagering and cards. Vortex. By me, fellow! Do you think I associate with such reptiles? Frank. Ecod, it was either you or t'other gentleman. Vortex. T'other gentleman! • Frank. I dan't knaw which be which, not I.-There be two of you. Vortex. Two of us! Frank. Ees; there be you that be one and there be your gentleman-he do make the pair. Vortex. The pair!-And have I been buying a hundred thou sand pounds worth of respect for this? Have I become a Member to pair off with my valet? Frank. Ecod, and a comical pair you be !-T'other gentleman be's a tightish, conceated sort of a chap enough;-but you be a little-he! he! (smothering a laugh). Vortex. Upon my soul, this is very pleasant-You are quite free and easy. Frank. Quite, sur; quite. Feyther do tell I it be all the fa shion. Vortex. He does! Then you may tell Feyther, that if he has lost his money at play, the winners won't give him sixpence to save him from starving, and that be all the fashion. By their distress the pretty Jessy will be more in my power, and then I can reinstate them in a farm upon terms (aside). Go, fellow! I shall not send your Father sixpence, Frank. The words I told um-the very words I told um. Says Says I" Feyther, he bean't the man will gi' thee a brass farthing. Frank. Ees-so you see, sur, what a desperate cute lad I be. • Vortex (aside). I'll set a trap for you, you dog—I'll have you in my power, however; I'll drop my purse-he'll take it-and then (drops his purse)—A pair of us! I'll lay you by the heels, desperate cate as you are. [Exit. Frank. Poor Feyther, poor Sister, and poor I! Feyther will go broken-hearted, for sartain ;-and then, sister Jessy's coming to labour.-I can't bear the thought on't. Od dom thee! if I could but get hold of some of thy money, I'd teak care thee should not get it again.-Eh! (sees the purse, walks round it). Well, now, I declare that do look for all the world like a purse. How happy it would make poor Feyther and Sister! I conceates there wou'd be no harm just to touch it ;-(takes it up with caution;)-it be cruel tempting. Nobody do see I.-I wonder how it wou'd feel in my pocket (puts it with fear into his pocket). Wouns! how hot I be! Cruel warm to Who's that? Nobody.-Oh! 1-1-l-u-d, lud! and I ha’ gotten such a desperate ague all of a sudden, and my heart do keep -jump-jumping.-I believe I be going to die (falls into a chair). Eh!-Eh!-Mayhap it be this terrible purse. Dom thee, come out (throws it down. After a pause) Ees, now I is better.-Dear me, quite an alteration. My head doant spin about soa, and my heart do feel as light, and do so keep tittuping, tittuping, I can't help crying. be sure. • Enter VORTEX. Vortex. Now I have him.--(Sees the purse). What, he has not stole it, tho' his own Father's in want!-Here's a precious rascal for you! Frank. Mr. Nabob, you have left your purse behind you (sobbing); and you ought to be asheamed of yourself, so you ought, to leave a purse in a poor lad's way, who has a Feyther and a Sistercoming to starving. Vortex. My purse! True; reach it me. Frank. Noa, thank you for nothing.-I've had it in my hand once.-Ecod, if having other people's money do make a man so hot, how desperate warm some folks mun be! Vortex. Warm,-foolish fellow! (wiping his forehead, and fanning himself with his hat). Fugh! quite a Bengal day, I declare. Frank. Od dang it! how their wicked heads mun spin round! Vortex. Spin round! I never heard such a simpleton.-Spin, indeed! ha ha! God bless my soul, I'm quite giddy! Oh Lord! Oh dear me! Help! help! Enter BRONZE. Vortex. Only a little touch of my old complaint.-Send that fellow away. (BRONZE goes up to FRANK.) Frank. Oh, this be t'other gentleman. Sur, I ha' gotten twentysx pound that Feyther lost to you at gamestering. Bronze. Where is it? |