and the abandonment of half the plebeian tribuneship to the patricians, in order to obtain for the plebeians an equal share in the higher magistracies, would have been as really injurious to the commons as it was unwelcome to the pride of the aristocracy. It was resigning a weapon with which they were familiar, for one which they knew not how to wield. The tribuneship was the foster-nurse of Roman liberty, and without its care that liberty never would have grown to maturity, What evils it afterwards wrought, when the public freedom was fully ripened, arose from that great defect of the Roman constitution, its conferring such extravagant powers on all its officers. It proposed to check one tyranny by another; instead of so limiting the prerogatives of every magistrate and order in the state, whether aristocratical or popular, as to exclude tyranny from all." Our limits will not admit of any other extracts, how interesting soever they may be. Those already made will sufficiently indicate the character of the work. It is clear that Dr Ar nold, în addition to his well-known classical and critical acquirements, possesses a discriminating judgment, a reflecting philosophic turn of mind, and the power of graphic interesting description. These are valuable qualities to any historian: they are indispensable to the annalist of Rome, and promise to render his work, if continued in the same spirit, the best history of that wonderful state in the English, perhaps in any modern, language. We congratulate him upon the auspicious commencement of his labours; we cordially wish him success, and shall follow him, with no ordinary interest, through the remainder of his vast subject, interesting to the student of ancient events, and the observer of contemporary transactions. There are two points which we would earnestly recommend to the consideration of this learned author, as essential to the success of his work as a popular or durable history. The first is, to avoid, as much as possible, in the text, all discussions concerning questiones vexatas, or disputed points, and give the conclusions at which he arrives in distinct propo sitions, without any of the critical or antiquarian reasoning on which they are founded. These last, indeed, are of inestimable importance to the learned or the thoughtful. But how few are they, compared to the mass of readers! and how incapable of giving to any historical work any extensive celebrity! They should be given, but in notes, so as not, to ordinary readers, to interrupt the interest of the narrative, or break the continuity of thought. The second is, to exert himself to the utmost, and, on every occasion graphic fire, the events, or people, or which presents itself, to paint, with scenes which occur in the course of his narrative, and to give all the interest in his power to the description of battles, sieges, incidents, episodes, or speeches, which present themselves. More even than accuracy of detail, or any other more solid qualities, these fascinating graces determine, with future ages, the celebrity and permanent interest of an historical work. What is the charm which attracts all ages, and will do so to the end of the world, to the retreat of the Ten Thousand, the youth of Cyrus, the early annals of Rome, the Catiline conspiracy, the reign of Tiberius, the exploits of Alexander, the Latin conquest of Constantinople, the misfortunes of Mary, the death of Charles I.? The eloquent fictions and graphic powers of Xenophon and Livy, of Sallust and Tacitus, of Quintus Curtius and Gibbon, of Robertson and Hume. In vain does criticism assail, and superior learning disprove, and subsequent discoveries overturn their enchanting narratives; in vain does the intellect of the learned few become sceptical as to the facts they relate. The imagination is kindled, the heart is overcome, and the works remain, not only immortal in celebrity, but undecaying in influence through every succeeding age. Why should not history, in modern as in ancient times, unite the interest of the romance to the accuracy of the annalist? Why should not real events enchain the mind with the graces and the colours of poetry? That Dr Arnold is learned, all who have studied his admirable edition of Thucydides know; that he can paint with force and interest, none who read the volume before us can doubt. Why, then, should not the latter qualities throw their brilliant hues over the accurate drawing of the former ? We have already said that we find no fault with Dr Arnold on account of his politics; nay, that we value his work the more, because, giving, as it promises to do, in the main, a faithful account of the facts of Roman history, it cannot fail to furnish, from a source the least suspicious, a host of facts decisive in favour of Conservative principles. By Conservative principles we do not mean attachment to despotic power, or aversion to genuine freedom: on the contrary, we mean the utmost abhorrence of the former, and the strongest attachment to the latter. We mean an attachment to that form of government, and that balance of power, which alone can render these blessings permanent, which render property the ruling, and numbers only the controlling power,-which give to weight of possession and intellect the direction of affairs, and entrust to the ardent feelings of the multitude the duty only of preventing their excesses, or exposing their corruption. Without the former, the rule of the people degenerates, in a few years, in every instance recorded in history, into licentious excess, and absolute tyranny; without the latter, the ambition or selfishness of the aristocracy perverts to their own private purposes the domain of the state. Paradoxical as it may appear, it is strictly and literally true, that the general inclination of abstract students, remote from a practical intercourse with mankind, to republican principles, is a decisive proof of the experienced necessity for Conservative policy that has always been felt in the actual administration of affairs. Recluse or speculative men become attached to liberal ideas, because they see them constantly put forth, in glowing and generous language, by the popular orators and writers in every age: they associate oppression with the government of a single ruler, or a comparatively small number of persons of great possessions, because they see, in general, that government is established on one or other of these bases; and, consequently, most of the oppressive acts recorded in history have emanated from such authority. They forget that the opportunity of abusing power has been so generally afforded to these classes by the experienced impossibility of intrusting it to any other; that if the theory of popular government had been practicable, Democracy, instead of exhibiting only a few blood-stained specks in history, would have occupied the largest space in its annals; that if the people had been really capable of directing affairs, they would, in every age, have been the supreme authority, and the holders of property the declaimers against their abuses; and that no proof can be so decisive against the practicability of any form of government, as the fact, that it has been found, during six thousand years, of such rare occurrence, as to make even learned persons, till taught by experience, blind to its tendency. SONNETS BY THE SKETCHER. THOUGHTS. COME, living Thoughts-envelope me around With th' unfelt pavement of your golden way, To reign, if perfect will and knowledge be Sees all is Beauty, and feels all is Love. THE CONCERT. Last eve, a Concert gave me such high pleasure In painted Hall-where painted warblers wink Whose silly words bequeath no sense to treasure. Of a sweet streamlet, whence the pure leaves drink I felt the boughs o'ershadow me--and closed Mine eyes and the quick Spirits that haunt the stream, Then floating gently broke into my dream- THE GLOW-WORM. O Gem, more precious than the thrice-tried ore, Thee at her bridal hour the chaste Earth wore, Yet deem'd Earth's bosom still adornèd more. They call thee worm, thy love ungently name, L THE BEST INFANT-SCHOOL. Nature, best Schoolmistress, I love the book Thou biddest some on thy bright pictures look- That give to growing hearts their due supply, Dismiss thy Infant-school, good Mistress Starch; That bind with love and duty. Strut and march, THE SICK DREAM. A wintry night:-my casement with the blast Was hurl'd to vapoury caverns, thick and vast, Through which the scourgèd ghosts, all howling, swept, I woke, and op'd my casement, as if there And wrathful mutterings ran from cloud to cloud. HARMONY. O wouldst thou give me Music, let it be O language is not for the Spirits of Air, That sing as they awake. They hide themselves From speech and unclosed eyes-wouldst thou repair To their loved haunts-the woods-the rocky shelvesThey to thy lute, beside the mountain stream, Will come to thee in Music and in Dream. THE SUMMER OF 1838. Ye Summer Winds, ye come upon mine ear And I am weary of this World of fear; Sits breeding Fiends, that from their teeming nest O, on green Nature's lap to lay one's head, FATHER AND SON. O check not, thoughtless Parent, Childhood's tear; Open thy heart to me, ingenuous Boy! And know by thine own tears what 'tis to weep, NIGHT. Mysterious hour, that wrappest me around Yon little beam tells of a gentle Home, Looks that the Night illume, and Love's warm breath— Of starry Heaven wears now a pall of Death. THE BROOK-THE WATERS OF CONSOLATION. Ah! well do I remember thee, sweet Brook, |