but cheap burial is the boast of the Liverpool chaplain, and he is the most original among them.

A NUT FOR THE "HOUSE."

I HAVE long been of opinion, that a man may attain to a very respectable knowledge of Chinese ceremonies and etiquette before he can learn one half the usages of the honourable house. Seldom does a debate go forward without some absurd interruption taking place in a mere matter of form. Now it is a cry of" order, order," to some gentleman who is subsequently discovered not to have been in the least disorderly, but whom the attack has so completely dumfoundered, that he loses his speech and his self-possession, and sits down in confusion, to be sneered at in the morning papers, and hooted by his constituents when he goes home.

Now some gifted scion of aristocracy makes an essay in braying and cock-crowing, both permitted by privilege, and overwhelms the speaker with the uproar. Now it is that intolerable nuisance, old Hume, shouting out, "divide," or "adjourn," or it is Colonel Sibthorpe who counts the house. These ridiculous privileges of members to interfere with the current of public business, because they may be sleepy or stupid themselves, are really intolerable, besides being so numerous that the first dozen years of a parliamentary life will scarcely teach a man a tithe of them. But of all these "rules of the house," the most unjust and tyrannical is that which compels a man to put up with any impertinence because he has already spoken. It would seem as if each honourable member "went down" with a single ball cartridge in his pouch, which, when fired, the best thing he could do was to go home and wait for another distribution of ammunition, for by remaining he only ran the risk of being riddled without any power to return the fire.

A case of this kind happened a few evenings since :-A Mr. Blewitt-I suppose the composer-made a very absurd motion, the object of which was to inquire "what office the Duke of Wellington held in the present government, and whether he was, or was not, a member of the cabinet.” With

out referring the learned gentleman to a certain erudite volume, called the Yearly Almanack and Directory, Sir Robert Peel proceeded to explain the duke's position. He eulogised, as who would not, his grace's sagacity and his wisdom; the importance of his public services, and the great value the ministers, his confreres, set upon a judg ment which, in a long life, had so seldom been found mistaken; and then he concluded by quoting from one of the duke's recent replies to some secretary or other, who addressed him on a matter foreign to his department; "that he was one of the few men in the present day who did not meddle in affairs over which they have no control"-" a piece of counsel," quoth Sir Robert, "I would strenuously advise the honourable member to apply to his own case.'

Now we have already said that we think Blewitt-though an admirable musician-seems to be a very silly man. Still if he really did not know what the duke represented in her majesty's government-if he really were ignorant of what functions he exercised, the information might have been af forded him without a retort like this. In the first place, his query, if a foolish, was at least a civil one; and in the second, it was his duty to understand a matter of this nature: it therefore came under his control, and Sir Robert's application of the quotation was perfectly uncalled-for. Well, what followed? Mr. Blewitt rose in wrath to reply, when the house called out, "spoke, spoke," and Blewitt was muzzled, the moral of which is simply this: you ask a question in the house, and the individual addressed has a right to insult you, you having no power of rejoinder, under the eti quette of "spoke." Any flippancy may overturn a man at this rate; and the words “ loud laughter," printed in italics in "The Chronicle," is sure to renew the emotion at every breakfast table the morning after.

Now I am sorry for Blewitt, and think he was badly treated.

A NUT FOR "LAW REFORM." Of all the institutions of England there is scarcely one more lauded, and more misunderstood, than trial by jury. At first blush, nothing can seem fairer and

less objectionable than the unbiassed decision of twelve honest men, sworn to do justice. They hear patiently the evidence on both sides, and in addition to the light derivable from their own intelligence, they have the directing charge of the judge, who tells them wherein the question for their decision lies, what are the circumstances of which they are to take cognizance, and by what features of the case their verdict is to be guided. Yet look at the working of this much-boasted privilege. One jury brings in a verdict so contrary to all reason and justice, that they are sent back to re-consider it by the judge; another, more refractory still, won't come to any decision at all, and get carted to the verge of the county for their pains; and a third, improving on all former modes of proceeding, has adopted a newer, and certainly most impartial manner of deciding a legal question. "Court of Common Pleas, London, July 6. The Chief Justice (Tindal) asked the ground of objection, and ten of the jurymen answered, that in the last case, one of their colleagues had suggested that the verdict should be decided by tossing up!" Here is certainly a very important suggestion, and one which, recognising justice as a blind goddess, is strictly in conformity with the impersonation. Nothing could possibly be farther removed from the dangers of undue influence than decisions obtained in this manner. Not only are all the prejudices and party bearings of individual jurors avoided, but an honest and manly oblivion of all the evidence which might bias men if left to the guidance of their poor and erring faculties is thus secured. It is human to err, says the poet moralist; and so the jurymen in question discovered, and would therefore

rather refer a knotty question to another deity than justice, and whom men call fortune. How much would it simplify our complex and gnarled code, the introduction of this system! In the next place, juries need not be any longer empanelled, the judge could "sky the copper" himself. The only question would be, to have a fair halfpenny. See with what rapidity the much cavilled court would dispatch public business. I think I see our handsome Chief of the Common Pleas at home here, with his knowing eye watching the vibrations of the coin, and calling out in his sonorous tone, "Head, the plaintiff has it. Call another case."

I peep into the Court of Chancery, and behold Sir Edward twirling the penny with more cautious fingers, and then with his sharp look, and sharper voice, say, "Tail! Take a rule for

the defendant."

no

No longer shall we hear objections as to the sufficiency of legal knowledge possessed by those in the judgment seat. There will be no petty likings for this, and dislikings for that court; no changes of venue; challenges of the jury; even Lord Brougham himself, of whom Sir Edward remarked, "What a pity it was he did not know a little law, for then he would have known a little of every thing," even he might be a chancellor once more. What a power of patronage it would give each succeeding ministry to know that capacity was of no consequence; and that the barrister of six years' standing could turn his penny as well as the leader in Chancery. Public business need never be delayed a moment, and if the Chief Baron were occupied in chamber, the crier of the court could perform his functions till he came back again.

0.

In general, the point of divergence of two languages originally one, is concealed in the obscurity of unapproachable antiquity. That ramifications have taken place naturally, since the miracle of Babel, we have every reason to believe-but we only discover the streams where they are far apart, and it is a work of difficulty and uncertainty to trace them up to their original diffluence. There are many curious circumstances which must strike even the most superficial philologist in returning up these streams. The few parent-fountains forming the miraculous origin of each great family of tongues, preserve their distinctive characteristics through endless combinations, and tend to imprint on their derivatives corresponding varieties of character and expression, according to their combination and arrangement. For it is of such materials that a spoken language is composed, and from such materials alone it can be modified and inflected. No power of taste, custom, or circumstances can do more than qualify one language by the admixture or extraction of other known ones; nor can the utmost ingenuity of man create new elements out of which to supply, enrich, or strengthen the current media of expression. But, subordinate to these great distinctions, there are wide differences where we can trace an original unity at a period more recent than the confusion of tongues, and in which the divarication has been caused by natural circumstances, such as the migration of tribes, colonization, conquest, geographical position, or the long-continued friendship or hostility of neighbouring nations. To apply ourselves to the examination of such matters can never be unprofitable, even in the uncertainty in which they are wrapped-we say uncertainty, for we have only the internal evidence of a language as it is, for our guide; as in geology we are unable to discover any au

thentic history to assist our researches. Man in his earlier state was as utterly unconscious of the philosophy of his language as of that of his mind; and hence we must be content to meet with those difficulties by which observation upon the casual relics of unobserved changes will ever be accompanied.

But in the case of England and America, and in that case alone, we can approach the point of divergence, and watch the process of separation from its commencement. Mankind will eventually have an opportunity of examining by proof all those nice and refined questions which only an argument of remotion was before able to solve for us; it has the process going on under its eyes, and it may test by actual experiment all that was hitherto but theory and deduction.

For all the efforts of America to preserve an identity of language with us (the only thing she seems to wish to follow us in) will not avail to resist the immutable law which ordains that nations removed shall not be identical in any one particular; and even from her literature she will not long be able to exclude the elements of change, which in the volume before us begin to make a show, and give an exotic tint to the blossoms and there are many bright ones with which it is overspread. The vulgar tongue it is, however, which will no doubt be the first to alter, as may be expected, it being there that the process is left to itself, and in it we could, if we were so disposed, and that our space and subject admitted of it, even now exhibit very remarkable variations, not only in words, but in idioms and forms of expression. American literature has hence a double interest with Englishmen. For a philological inquiry mixes itself with it, and urges attention as a matter of duty, where inclination would have already recommended it. It is not

our part, however, to point out examples of what we have been noticing, either directly or by the selection of our quotations. It is enough to denote the commencing existence of such changes, and recommend it as a subject worthy of national observation.

The endeavour to hold strictly to English in literature has had its cramping effect on the powers of American poets. In prose the restraint is not equally felt, or at least does not so severely cramp the author; and accordingly their prose compositions are many of them bold, natural, and rich. But in verse it is essential that there should be an entire freedom from restraint an independence of expression as well as of thought; nor has any poet ever been able to show a bold and vigorous originality who has been obliged to watch his expressions as they arose in his mind, and square his words when written according to an unfamiliar vocabulary. Hence there is timidity and restraint in all their poetical efforts they are laboriously correct, but undaring and tame; and a general absence of forcible metaphor, novel and striking metre, startling eccentricity, and successful innovation, marks the uneasy anxiety after English which guided their compositions. course, in so voluminous a miscellany as that before us, this assertion will be qualified with exceptions-one must be obvious, that of Maria Brooks' poetry, (Maria Del' Occidente,) of which wild and reckless vigour is one of the high characteristics. It must be remembered, however, that she, like Irving, was a long resident in England, and benefitted moreover by the critical care, advice, and assistance of Southey, in whose house she was for a considerable time domesticated.

Of

In these higher qualifications, then, we are bound to record American deficiency. Genius, the transfiguration of the beautiful into the sublime, the wings upon the head and feet, the magic wand of inspiration, are not there. Like elegant translations, or accurate copies, these writings please and satisfy, but do not move us-we admire and approve, but must refuse homage; and delightedly admit them to the shelves of our library, while we must exclude them from the sanctuary of our hearts. In such a position,

however, they stand becomingly-they have many claims on our regard, and in one or two points, we are bound to confess, put to shame our own modern school. A healthy and wholesome spirit of thought and morality uniformly pervades their pages-a simple and safe tone of feeling is caught, we trust, from the tastes of their readers, and conventionally purifies their lays ; there is little that is false or affected in sentiment, much less of what is pernicious or demoralizing, in the large collection they have sent over to us in this volume; or if the former admission is too strong, we may safely allow it as far as morbid and unhealthy sentiment is concerned. There is also an absence of personal and political acrimony, singular enough in a people, who in plain prose must be admitted to possess a national talent for invective, whetted by constant practice, and which either argues the cau. tious and rigid selection of the editor, or else how completely the bards of America keep in their minds the iden tity of poetry and fiction; and we have a right to thank them that on such ground at least they can lay aside inveterate habits, and allow their imagination to give practical efficacy to the precept" Peace, good will towards men."

But after all it will be better to give the reader an opportunity of judging for himself. And we purpose, in doing so, to use all possible impartiality in the selection, which must after all be but a scanty gleaning from such a field. It was about the close of the seventeenth century that the shell was first sounded beyond the Atlantic by bards of English descent. For, quaint and grotesque as were the productions of those worthies, Folger, Mathew, and Wigglesworth, the circumstance of their being published in America does not in itself constitute them American poetry-the authors were English born, and would probably have put forward their absurdities at home, if they could have found a printer-with this difference, that their names and books would have been already in the tomb of "all the Capulets." The true commencement of American song is with Benjamin Thompson, "y renowned poet of New England." He was born at Quincy, in 1640, and wrote an astounding epic, entitled "New Eng