The author is very severe in his allusions to the morals of the Spanish monks and clergy, and is quite alive to the superstitions which exercise so powerful a sway over the people. He is, however, not disposed to approve of every part of our own system, and alludes, rather disrespectfully we must say, to those comfortable enclosures in our churches commonly called pews, which he describes as "pens." This will not, however, redeem the character of his work in certain quarters from the scandal likely to be caused by such passages as the following, in reference to the Angelus :

"The observance of the Ave-Maria is very impressive; when the bell rings, the whole population stop, uncover, and cross themselves, and actors used to do so even on the stage; the jest and laugh on the public Alamada are instantly hushed, and the monotonous hum of some thousand voices, uttering one common prayer, is heard. This feeling is, however, but for the moment; it is a mere mechanical form, and devoid of inner spirituality. The next instant every one bows to his neighbour, wishes him a happy night, and returns to the suspended conversation, the interrupted bon mot is completed: even this, which strikes the stranger as a solemn spectacle, has become a routine form of devotion to the callous performers."-p. 170.

Fountains are very pleasing objects generally, and one would think that in the court-yard of an Andalusian mansion they would be peculiarly acceptable; but our author breaks through the charm by disclosing an awful fact, that they breed mosquitos; and the description which follows of the feats of these diminutive guerilleros of the air positively makes our flesh creep. We can sympathize with the "thin-skinned gentlemen" who are so touchingly alluded to; and as we have no particular inclination to become the prey of pulgas, chinches, and another species of animal,

non nominandum inter cabulleros," we fear that we are not very likely to derive much practical benefit from Mr. Ford's "Handbook,"

IX.-German Anthology: a Series of Translations from the most popular of the German Poets. By JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN. In 2 vols. Dublin: Curry and Co. London: Longmans. THE translations comprised in these pleasing volumes have made their appearance in the Dublin University Magazine at various intervals; and from what we have seen of them, we can have little doubt that they will tend to promote the study of German literature in this country. The poets from whom translations have been made are, Schiller, Uhland, Tieck, Kerner, Buerger, Simrock, Goethe, Klopstock, Herder, De la Motte Fouqué, &c. We select the following specimen from the "Lay of the Bell :"

"Firmly walled within the soil
Stands the fire-baked mould of clay
Courage, comrades! Now for toil!
For we cast THE BELL to-day.
Sweat must trickle now

Down the burning brow,

If the work may boast of beauty;
Still 'tis Heaven must bless our duty.

"Gather then the pine-tree wood,
Only be it wholly dry,

That the flame with sudden flood,
Through the furnace-chink may fly.
Now the brass is in,

Add the alloy of tin,

That the ingredients may, while warm,
Take the essential fluid form.

"What here in caverns by the power
Of fire our mastering fingers frame,
Hereafter from the belfry tower

Will vindicate its makers' aim;
"Twill speak to man with voice unfailing
In latest years of after-days,
Will echo back the mourner's wailing,
Or move the heart to prayer and praise.
In many a varying cadence ringing,
The willing BELL will publish far
The fitful changes hourly springing
Beneath man's ever-shifting star."

We shall probably return to this subject on a future occasion.

x. College Life. Letters to an Undergraduate. By the Rev. THOMAS WHYTEHEAD, M.A., late Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge, &c. Cambridge: Walters. London: Burns.

Oxford Parker.

THE little work before us will possess a melancholy interest for all who remember the death of the gifted author of these letters in New Zealand, whither he had accompanied his friend Bishop Selwyn in the capacity of chaplain. From a brief biographical sketch prefixed to the volume, we observe that he died at Waimate, in the Bay of Islands, in his twenty-seventh year, March 19, 1843; having relinquished his country, friends, and very brilliant prospects, to become a Missionary to the heathen. The letters now published were written in 1841 while the author was curate of Freshwater, Isle of Wight. The subjects treated of are, "The origin and end of the Collegiate system;" "College Disci

pline;" "College Rooms;" "College Chapel;" "The Hall;" "Lecture Room;" "The Library;" "College Friends." In the first of these letters the connexion which existed between the monastic and the collegiate systems is traced to the establishment of halls or claustral schools in the university towns by the Benedictines and Augustinians, about the middle of the thirteenth century; and the original object of collegiate foundations is stated to have been the maintenance of a class of men whose separation from active and public life, and the peculiar character of their studies, should qualify them to act as a check on the spirit of the times, and to witness for ancient and essential truths. This may afford some insight into the general views of the writer, whose object is throughout to impress on his reader the religious character of all the Collegiate Institutions, and to breathe into them the spirit in which they were conceived. Imperfect as these papers are, never having received their author's final correction, they are in every respect deserving of attention, and the student who forms his conduct on the models here presented to him, will not fail to become a good churchman and a valuable member of his university.

XI.-English Churchwomen of the seventeenth century. Derby: Mozleys. London: Burns.

THE Compiler of this interesting volume has brought together a far richer collection of materials than we should have supposed it possible to amass. Records of private and retired religion are so rarely within the cognizance of more than one human being; and the course of domestic life in which Christian virtues are peculiarly manifested, is so little before the world, that it is only wonderful that any memorials are preserved of the "excellent of the earth." Their very humility and modesty induces them to shrink from all praise of men; and those who have most deeply felt their excellence, are frequently unwilling or unable to make known to others, or to invest with permanency, the beautiful images of departed worth, which dwell in their own hearts and memories. It is fortunate, however, that some persons are taken out of the privacy of domestic life, by the circumstances of their birth and station, and are thus transmitted to future times, as the representatives of the larger but more obscure class of Christians by whom they were in their own days surrounded. The "English Churchwomen" here brought before us, are specimens of the religious character of the age, so far as it existed in its purest and highest form, in the Church of England. They are from the aristocracy of those times, from the cause to which we have adverted. "In hardly any instance but that of Mrs. Basire, has

it been found possible to collect notices of ladies of inferior rank to that of the wives of noblemen or the higher gentry, and even of these, the accounts are often incomplete.

The volume opens with an account of the well-known religious exercises and devotional practices of Nicholas Ferrar, at Little Gidding, which might, we think, have been dispensed with, as it does not seem to come exactly within the general design or the title of the work; and it is, we should think, very generally known. The memoir of Lady Falkland is perhaps the most striking in the whole volume. There is a consistency, a depth, and a beauty in her character which have not been often rivalled; and the combination of affection to her family, loyalty to her king, and attachment to the persecuted Church of England, is truly edifying. It would be of course impossible in a brief notice to enter into details, but we think that few persons can peruse this memoir without deriving benefit and pleasure from it.

XII.-Minstrel Love: a Romance. From the German of Fouqué. London: Burns.

THE tales and romances for which the world is indebted to the noble author of this volume, seem to be as multitudinous as his fancy is exuberant and singular. La Motte Fouqué meets us in every direction, wherever we may turn; it is absolutely impossible to escape from him, if we wished it ever so much; and the swarm of his publications seems every day to become more dense. This is in itself a pretty strong evidence of their popularity, and we will add, of their ability. And yet we are sometimes tempted to think that we are getting rather too familiar with his spirits, and his hobgoblins, his wondrous ladies, and his still more wondrous knights. When we open his Undine for the first time we are astonished at the wildness of its incidents, and the sort of hazy romance with which the whole is invested; but when we have perused some score of his tales and romances, this style loses its apparent freshness, and seems to savour in some degree of affectation. The romance which bears the very taking title of "Minstrel Love," presents at least one novelty, in the introduction of Moorish chivalry; the hero however is a Christian esquire, named Arnald, of Maraviglia, who is discovered at the opening of the tale in deep converse with "a mighty prior," gifted with the euphonious title of "Altarbol," and with "a grey-haired and considerate warrior," who is introduced to the reader as "Sir Walter." The latter of these gentlemen was, it seems, the foster-father of young Arnald, who is now, on the eve of his commencing life as a minstrel, favoured with an exposition of his VOL. IV.-NO. VII.-OCT. 1845.

birth and parentage. We lose sight for a time of "Altarbol;" who, possessed as he was of a " tall and powerful form," and of a brow to which "a prophet-like wrath" was habitual, must certainly have been by no means an inviting acquaintance. Of the aged knight we next hear in a pathetic scene, in which young Arnald, now a celebrated warrior and minstrel, is discovered seated beside the grave of his foster-father, singing away, and beating a tattoo on his shield. It appears that a youthful Moorish prince, named "Tarfe," had undertaken for the honour of his ladye [we should think "ladies" must be the correct reading] to conquer Provence, and convert it to the faith of Mahomet; and scarcely has Arnald time to become an admirer of Alearda, a lady of " tall and glorious form," who "floated" into his presence, and who appeared to him at once in the somewhat singular combination of "an enchantress and a saint," until he is summoned by the husband of this lady, the Viscount Biziers, to exert his prowess against the Moors in person. The latter are defeated, though our hero is on the point of being speared a circumstance which procures him a friendly greeting from the victorious Vicomte, who on this occasion uncloses his visor and presents "the countenance of an inspired hero." Our friend is also consoled for his misfortune by the gift of a fine Arab steed, the owner of which had been compelled to withdraw with the rest of the Moors to the ships.

In the moment of rejoicing, however, intelligence is received that the Moors have again landed near the castle of Biziers; and the Vicomte sends our Minstrel to protect the Lady Alearda, who was left behind them. To his astonishment the "mighty edifice" is found empty; but in prowling about the rooms of the deserted building, he is electrified (as he well might be) by the appearance of a knight whose colossal statue rose to the central point of the vaulted roof, and whose visage was "of the whiteness of snow, dazzlingly radiant." An engraving of this personage is very appropriately introduced, but we cannot say much for its design or execution. The apparition reminds us of Don Quixote, and Sancho might find a worse representative than the Minstrelknight. The right leg of the former seems to be emitting a jet of steam in some way which we are unable to comprehend, and on which the tale itself throws no light.

Arnald gladly escapes from the presence of his huge companion, who motions him away, while he announces to him, in mysterious music, that "all is well." This "mighty spirit" had also been looking out of the window, over Arnald's shoulder; and his appearance in this position had filled with delight certain "dark forms," who were beside the castle-moat, and who turn out to be the neighbouring peasantry, burghers, &c.