eS. CtC(i‘( Pt: 
1829.] 
what may be called the text, while the de- 
tails and authorities, classed with unusual 
felicity, are thrown into supplements, at the 
close of each chapter, and in a smaller type— 
the first will suit the idle, and the latter 
will satisfy the more active inquirer. 
Of the real usefulness of the book, to 
those who are capable of estimating it, we 
can entertain no doubt. The writer himself 
dissuades some classes of readers— 
As to those, says he (and such there appear to 
be), who have no difficulties or distrusts, I would 
give them advice which is not common either in 
preface or ‘ntroduction—do not proceed to read 
the book. ‘There is another class, he adds, ina 
note, whom I would frankly forewarn not to seek 
satisfaction from these pages. I mean those who 
feel less advantage in having premises carefully 
laid down, than conclusions strongly wrought up— 
who prefer the impression that is given or im- 
posed by inferences very amply and eloquently 
urged, to that which they must in part acqnire for 
themselves by an attentive view of facts presented, 
the use of which by the writer may not be always 
full or vigorous—who are disturbed, besides, at 
all concessions, and may be alarmed, at certain 
points, lest the cause should be betrayed. For 
such readers I am not enough an advocate, 
When pleading for a religion, which, if true, 
makes truth a high and sacred duty, we ought 
not to colour falsely, or to male unfair reserya- 
tions. I am far from saying or thinking that I 
haye been nowhere biassed in method, or misled 
in judgment, by the desire to convince; but I 
would hope not to have jesuitically departed in 
practise from the maxim, ‘‘ Basuage—le grand 
art dans la religion est de n’en avoir pas.’ 
These admirable sentiments cannot but 
recommend this very able and amiable per- 
son’s production. ° 
Tales of a Voyager (Second Series), 3 
vols. 12mo. ; 1829.—Whether the bent of 
the reader be to facts or fancy, he may be 
equally gratified by this production. The 
facts will take him over the scenes of the 
frozen ocean, and lay before him the pretty 
general career of a Greenland whaler faith- 
fully and vividly—the crew alternating 
between activity and listlessness. Their 
perils —labours—amusements—alarms of 
famine—are all graphically traced, and the 
details diversified by descriptions of the 
phenomena of the polar regions—the habits 
of arctic animals, marine and ice-ine, for 
land animals there can be none—nothing is 
passed over. With the experience of the 
traveller, the author has the faculty of de- 
scribing with effect, and might prove a 
valuable collaborateur of Captains Parry and 
Scoresby. ‘The tales have no connexion 
whatever with the voyage, and might have 
been as well interwoven with any other sub- 
ject upon earth. They, however, exhibit 
no common talent in detailing strong feel- 
ings, and critical occasions—a talent which 
betrays him frequently into too great par- 
ticularity—he has not yet learned where 
to stop. The characters are mostly of the 
Domestic and Foreign. 
541 
rougher cast—not one gentlemen or edu- 
cated person among them, which is—some 
relief, we were going to say, but certainly 
some change. Smugglers—pirates—these 
are his favourites—and one hero is often 
very like another. The chief tales are Ber- 
nard Hyde, Letitia, and the T-Man—of 
which the first and second have several good 
points, but the last is full of a sort of coarse- 
ness—city vulgarity—the exposure of which 
has long ceased to haye the power of exciting 
a smile. 
Bernard Hyde is the son of an officer in 
the customs at a northern sea-port, and one 
of a large family of low habits. For no ex- 
plicable reason, Bernard is detested by the 
mother—such things have occurred—and 
treated by her with great severity, and by 
the father with neglect. The boy is a fine 
vigorous fellow, and seeks a refuge naturally 
in any thing that will divert his feelings, and 
becomes, almost inevitably, reckless, dazing, 
and mischievous. To get rid of him he is 
apprenticed to some low trade in London, 
from which he speedily takes wing, goes to 
sea, and eventually joins a gang of smug- 
glers. Of an active and adventurous tum, 
this employment suits him to a tittle, and 
he prosecutes his new profession with great 
success. Occasionally—money abounding 
and vanity prompting—he comes to town— 
dresses and dashes and plays the coxcomb. 
On one of these out-breaks, his attention is 
caught by a flirtation between a young lady, 
accompanied by an elderly one and a sister, 
and attended by a servant, on one side of 
the road, and a young gentleman in black 
on the other—a lap-dog, in particular, is 
despatched across with a glove. In the 
meanwhile, Hyde is shewing off his own at- 
tractions, and the young gentleman in black 
is alternately filled with rage and contempt 
at his impudence. Presently the little dog 
is set upon by some brutal butchers—the 
young lady screams—and the young gen- 
tleman flies to its rescue, but he isno match ~ 
for the sinews and muscles of the butchers, 
and fails. Hyde—a strapping fellow, and 
accustomed to rough measures—to the voies 
de fait—kicks and cuffs about him, till he 
reaches the dog, and soon restores him to 
the lady. . From this event springs not any 
intercourse with the lady, but an intimacy 
between him and the favoured youth, which 
continues till Hyde’s stock of money is ex- 
hausted—still knowing nothing of the story 
of his companion, though evidently involving 
some mystery—and then returns to the 
coast. 
Some months after, while engaged in the 
traffic of his profession, he suddenly meets 
again with his new friend, who is skulking 
in the neighbourhood of his mistress’s dwel- 
ling to escape the eyes of the father. These 
eyes, however, are as wakeful as Argus’s, 
and the owner has something to stimulate 
him: for he has done the youth an injury, 
which gives him little repose. He is ac- 
tually in possession of an estate, to which he 
