394 MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE. 



be the first round of the ladder of learning (which he has mounted by my 

 help), or rather (if you will allow me, ma'am, to mend my figure) the poles 

 that support all the rounds ; having had, as I observed, a primordial ac- 

 quaintance with him, I can testify that he is worthy every honourable adjec- 

 tive in the language, and we have every reason to hope that his future tense 

 will be as perfect as his past/ 



" ' Wheugh ! ' exclaimed the major, ' a pretty long march you have had 

 through that speech ! ' 



" The good schoolmaster, quite unruffled, proceeded to offer Eliot a time- 

 worn Virgil ; and finished by expressing his hopes that ' he would imitate 

 Csesar in maintaining his studies in the camp, and keep the scholar even- 

 handed with the soldier.' 



" Eliot charmed the old pedagogue, by assuring him that he should be 

 more apt at imitating Csesar's studies than his soldiership, and himself be- 

 stowed Virgil in his portmanteau. 



" A good lady now stepped forth, and seeming somewhat scandalised that, 

 as she said, ' no serious truth had been spoken at this peculiar season/ she 

 concluded a technical exhortation by giving Eliot a pair of stockings, into 

 which she had wrought St. Paul's description of the Gospel armour. ' The 

 Scripture/ she feared, did not often find its way to the camp ; and she 

 thought a passage might be blessed, as a single kernel of wheat, even sowed 

 among tares, sometimes produced its like/ 



" Eliot thanked her, and said, ' it was impossible to have too much of the 

 best thing in the world ; but he hoped she would have less solicitude about 

 him, when he assured her that his mother had found place for a pocket Bible 

 in his portmanteau/ 



" A meek-looking creature now stole up to Mrs. Lee, and, putting a roll of 

 closely-compressed lint into her hand, said, 'tuck it in with his things, Miss 

 Lee. Don't let it scare you I trust he will dress other people's wounds, 

 not his own, with it. My ! that will come natural to him. It's made from 

 the shirt Mr. Eliot stripped from himself, and tore into bandages for my 

 poor Sam, that time he was scalt. Mr. Eliot was a boy then, but he has the 

 same heart now/ 



" Mrs. Lee dropped a tear on the lint, as she stowed it away in the closely- 

 packed portmanteau/' 



We cannot resist quoting an anecdote of the hero of the above cleverly de- 

 picted scene, related of him during his introductory visit to General Wash- 

 ington. It is amusing and characteristic. 



" ' Ah, my boy ! ' said the colonel, determined to tell his tale out, ' you may 

 say that there's no courage like that that comes by natur, gin'ral ; he stood 

 within two feet of me, as straight as a tomb-stone, when, a spent ball bound- 

 ing near him, he caught it in his hands, just as if he'd been playing wicket, 

 and said, ' you may throw down your bat, my boys ; I've caught you out ! ' 

 Was not that metal'?" 



We cannot close these volumes without especially commending the great 

 propriety of diction they display ; we never read a work of this class]exhibiting 

 so much care and aptitude in the style : hence each sentiment is conveyed 

 with a degree of force and elegance rarely equalled. May we attribute this 

 high qualification to Miss Sedgwick's evident penchant for Shakspeare ? Her 

 quotations are frequent, and seem, in some instances, quite involuntary. 



The History of Justin Martyr, and other Poems. By RICHARD 

 CHEREVIX FRENCH, perpetual Curate of Curdridge Chapel, Hants. 

 London, Edward Moxon, Dover Street, 1835. pp. 185. 



THIS is a volume of considerable talent and poetic taste. The subjects which 



