not his betters (as they would call themselves) done so before him?-and at least he took one on both sideswhich few of the said " betters" would dare to do; and he did his duty afterwards-which their spurious honesty would stand in the way of. Admitting that he took five hundred pounds of the "legs," to lose the battle, he at least told his backer what he had done, and took his promise of a thousand pounds to win it. And what was the natural result under these circumstances, but that he would lose it ?-Supposing it to be an equal match at setting-to,-(and who shall say that there can be more than an equal match for Neate?)— it is, in fact, mathematically demonstrable that Gas must have lost it. Taking their respective powers, resulting from strength, skill, honour, profit, fame, &c., at 10, there was, doubtless, a drawback of about 1 unconsciously acting upon Gas's innate sense of right in favour of his first bribers, which cast the balance into the scale of his adversary. At all events, there's no denying that he did his duty, whether he deserves the credit of it or not. Nobody who saw that battle can deny that he did what he could to win it, because he had promised to do so for his own benefit and that of his backer; and he did what he could not help in losing it, because he had promised to do so for the benefit of other people! I conceive that, after this, nothing more need be said, either for or against him in this matter.

If I now recur for a moment to the day of Gas's death, it will certainly not be to lament over the particular manner of it; still less to wish that it had not happened. A prize-fighter is mortal, as well as another man—whatever one might be led to think to the contrary during the witnessing of a well-fought battle.

As he must die, then, those are but sorry friends to his fame, who would have him breathe his last upon a feather-bed. A hero's death should refer, in some way or other, to his past life. Napoleon's, alas! had no farther reference to his life, than that it took place in the captivity to which that life had led;-but Gas, if for his misdeeds he was not permitted to lie in the lap of glory, was not denied the boon of dying in the open air while on a fighting errand, and on the anniversary of his Waterloo! namely, the battle of Hungerford. This singular coincidence may serve to show, that these seeming accidents are nothing less. "There is a special providence even in the fall of a sparrow."

The idéal of an immaculate hero's death is, doubtless, on the field of battle, and in the arms of victory; and accordingly, Abercrombie and Nelson, who were immaculate heroes, died in that manner. Napoleon and Gas were, alas! not without spots in their fame, and their final fate was correspondent. But they were illustrious persons nevertheless; and will not be forgotten while Fighting is remembered; the less, perhaps, that they mixed up something of the errors of humanity with those qualities which lifted them above it. At all events, there was no hypocritical pretension about either of them, and no cant. They professed to cultivate the arts of war, not of peace, and to be fighters, not fine gentlemen; and they were as good as their words in this respect, whatever they might be in others. If one of them offered bribes, and the other took them; what then?-they at least confessed itone when he was drunk, and the other when he was sober; and the confession of our sins every one admits to be a virtue! If they both broke treaties, it was doubtless because at the moment of making them they VOL. III. PART I.

E

never meant to keep them any longer than they found it convenient. They made them to serve their own views, not those of other people; and if they had kept them any longer than was consistent with those views, they would have broke faith with themselves; and a thief that will rob himself, must be a thief indeed!-But I will run this parallel no further at present, or seek excuses for people who sought none for themselves. In fact, to complain of Buonaparte, because he was not Belisarius; or of Gas, because he was not Sir Charles Grandison, is a mere impertinence. They were all four models in their way; and what would we have more !— Finally, they are gone to their long home; and peace be to their manes!

ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER OF THE TRIBE OF BENJAMIN.

POETRY has an advantage over the other arts in her unlimited grasp of subjects. Nothing is too high or too low for her contemplation. The things of heaven, and the things of earth, the moral and the natural world, are alike submitted to her. Even vice itself is a legitimate subject of poetry, if it be led to its natural end, which is misery,—and held up for the terror of evil-doers; but it is a degrading distinction of the present times, that old poetical justice is often laid aside, and vice left triumphant. The peculiarities of individual tempers, and the varieties of national character, have long afforded the noblest subjects of poetry; and for these, though personal observation may do much, poets are chiefly indebted to history. Every nation has abounded in poetical materials. The luxurious empires of the east, the bar

baric tribes of the north, the civilized states of the west, both in dark chivalrous ages and in enlightened times, have each and all administered to the poet themes of instruction and delight. Our own island at no period is devoid of poetical interest. Her druidical rites, her sufferings under the Scandinavian pirates, her civil wars, her varied manners and customs, all deserve the attention of "gifted minds."

But the Jewish nation is, perhaps, the most abundantly rich in those circumstances and characters that adorn and dignify poetry. It is an old remark, which has been often repeated, that the finest specimens of this delightful art are to be found in the Bible. Nor is this true only of the prophetic and lyric writings. With respect to the materials of poetry, the remark is equally applicable to the historical books. The very existence of a small pastoral nation, wandering among large and hostile kingdoms, under the miraculous guidance of a Superior Being, and bearing along the inestimable secret, the knowledge of the One true God,-would be esteemed a bold and beautiful fiction, if it were recorded in any other book. And its settlement by the sword in the land of Canaan, its subsequent prosperity, its unparalleled overthrow and dispersion, and its present miraculous condition, are events singularly susceptible of poetical ornament and illustration. Sacred history, moreover, furnishes examples of men, and families, and tribes, stamped with such varieties of peculiar character, and thrown into situations of such romantic interest, as would seldom occur to the most inventive imagination. When did the novelist present a hero like the shepherd-king of Israel, or conduct him to his throne through such picturesque and affecting scenes? What portrait of pure contented love, what of maternal ten

derness, can equal those of Ruth and Rizpah? Where are the denouncers of woe, the bards and the prophets of profane history, that lose not all their sublimity, when compared with him who sat lamenting in the wilderness, or with the stern and undaunted Baptist? And where may we find a family so eminently true to their country and their God, as that of the priest Maccabeus? But to enumerate a tenth of the subjects of poetic interest which sacred history presents, would require volumes. The one here submitted to minuter examination is the tribe of Benjamin.

The father of this fierce and warlike tribe seems to have been a man of a mild and affectionate disposition. The love which Jacob entertained for his elder brother Joseph was transferred to Benjamin, and this, his youngest son, was farther endeared by the loss of Rachel, who died in giving birth to him during their flight from Laban. His amiable and peaceful deportment, contrasted with the turbulence of his brethren, refreshed the heart of the venerable patriarch, and seems to have had a beneficial influence even upon the betrayers of Joseph, who treated him, in their journey to Egypt, with kindness and attention, and expressed no jealousy at the favour he received from "the lord of the land." This journey occasioned a series of very pathetic and wonderful events; but Benjamin, like the heroes of the Great Unknown, is passive throughout. We enter into the despair of the desolate father, we weep tears of joy with Joseph, our hearts glow within us at the powerful and affecting appeal of Judah, but we feel only quiet esteem for the virtues of Benjamin, which could excite in minds of such different character the same energy of attachment.

The first warning of the rapacious and daring spirit