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must have the eyes covered to be saddled and bridled. Our author once lost a young charger given him by Bolivar, with saddle, valise, bridle, and blanket, from a young French servant unsaddling it without this precaution. The horse struck him down with its fore-feet, and disappeared over the Savannah. We conclude by an anecdote of Paez. He had once surrounded with his terrible Llanero horsemen an infantry detachment of the royal army, but could make no impression upon the solid square into which it had thrown itself. The Spaniards were in sight of a town where they would have been safe. They dared not deploy to gain a wood hard by, for fear of their formidable foes. High grass was around, and there was no keeping the foe at a distance while they executed the smallest manœuvre. Paez got impatient; but the infantry were firm and impervious. He first collected a herd of wild cattle, and drove them in on the square; but the confusion they created was little. He then suddenly thought of firing the dry grass, which was immediately done in several places to windward of the enemy's position. The flames of course effectually dislodged the unfortunate Spaniards; and those who were not suffocated by the smoke or blown up by their own cartridges, fell an easy prey to the vengeance of the lancers." Here we must conclude our account of this highly entertaining narrative, recommending it most cordially to our readers.

The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL. D.; including a Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides: by JAMES BOSWELL, Esq. A new edition, with numerous Additions and Notes, by JOHN WILSON CROKER, LL. D., F. R. S. 5 vols. 8vo. Murray.

We have long been inclined to think that Mr. Croker has attained a reputation in literature to which he is by no means entitled, either on the score of genius or acquirement. There is a species of superficial knowledge, which by artful management and great boldness is sometimes made much of in society. In the world of fashion, a very small proportion of this knowledge and management goes a great way; not that we imagine Mr. Croker to be one of these persons exactly, but that he borders upon this class rather than upon the order of writers distinguished either for depth of knowledge or brilliancy of genius. Those too who join with the aforesaid quality a species of small wit, generally directed satirically, which rather teases than wounds, not for want of intention but power, have an additional aid for impressing the less intellectual part of society with a notion of their talents. We do not say Mr. Croker is one of this class either, though he is by no means disinclined to satirical allusions in his parliamentary as well as in his literary gladiatorships. Sometimes he forgets himself in his eagerness to strike; as when, the other day, he sneered at Mr. Macaulay for having only been heard of, before he entered the House of Commons, as a "practising barrister." How Mr. Croker forgot himself on this occasion the world observed and noted down. In this instance indeed the ex-secretary of the Admiralty was peculiarly unfortunate. Some member might have retorted with interest upon the "where" and "when" Mr. Croker had been before heard of-upon the notoriety which in Mr. Macaulay could have raised no envious emotion, whatever feeling the profound logic, the brilliant wit, and the irresistible oratory, of Mr. Croker, might have done. The truth is, that the Ultra-Tories see in this gentleman their literary champion, and he is proud of the post. Their intellectual feebleness (deplorably lamented by the more moderate Tories) magnifies his talents, and we do not wish to underrate them, into gigantic dimensions. Mr. Croker's ambition is thus gratified; he is the Triton among the minnows-but, to his book.

We have made a charge of superficiality against Mr. Croker. It is curious, that just at the moment when we concluded the paragraph above, the Edinburgh Review, No. 107, came to hand. We confess a feeling of self-satisfaction coming upon us on perusing the first article in that Number. Not only are we borne out in our

judgment, but we are surprised how the most assumptive writer-the pen that was contented to take for granted, instead of searching history-could venture to put such blunders on paper. Mr. Croker either was too lazy to search into facts, or he was too full of confidence in himself, to set his memory to the proof. His blunders are really of the most inexcusable character. With great facilities for undertaking such a work, with anecdotes furnished him which were out of the reach of other writers, it is to be lamented that the advantages the author possessed have been misused. Let us first make a list of a few on the foregoing authority, and then we will submit our own remarks.

Derrick, says Croker, died in 1760: should be 1769. Mr. C. makes him living in 1763 himself.

Two of Mr. Croker's notes contain the deaths of one person, Sir H. Croft: he dies once in 1805; again in 1816. It should be the latter year.

Sir W. Forbes, who died in 1806, is made defunct in 1816, in the teeth of Sir W. Scott's lament for him in Marmion.

Allan Ramsay, the painter, is made to die in his 71st year, in 1784, though described as born in 1709.

Mrs. Thrale was born in 1738. The lady was 25 when her intimacy with Johnson commenced, says our editor, in 1765.

Mr. Croker makes Johnson's Lines to Mrs. Thrale on her 35th Birthday, bear date 1777. It should be 1773.

Johnson was born in 1709, yet Mrs. Thrale was 35 when he was 70, according to Croker, but not Cocker!

Lord Mansfield is made to outlive Johnson ten years full. It should be eight years and a quarter.

Mr. Croker makes a common fairy tale for children, known to every body but himself, to be the autobiography of the Prince of Wales, written by Ralph, his secretary!!

The bruising parson Bate Dudley, afterwards Sir Henry, when editor of the Morning Post, is made to fight a duel for an attack in the Herald, which was not then in existence.

A Scotch noble, Duglas, is made to deposit the heart of Bruce in the Holy Sepulchre in 1329. Now Duglas only set out the following year, and was killed on his journey thither.

The Duke of Montrose was beheaded, by Mr. Croker, at Edinburgh in 1650: he was hanged there the same year by his conquerors. Both executions could not have happened to the same personage.

Lord Townsend, secretary of state to George I. in 1714, was not so till 1720, says Mr. Croker in 1721 he became so a second time it is true! Mr. Croker does not know who Charles Townsend was, but gives him wrong relationships throughout. Burgoyne is made to last out against the Americans five months longer than he really did: 1777 must stand for 1778.

Byng was not a political martyr, says Croker. Why? Because there was a total change of administration between his condemnation and death. Here is a statement utterly and entirely wrong. The administration was the same. The fact is, that Mr. Croker's assertions are heedlessly made, as memory may or may not serve. He cannot call such writing historical anecdote: historical romance-writing would be more correct.

Croker infers that a sarcasm of Johnson's, made twelve years before Gibbon wrote a part of his Decline and Fall, was owing to what he had written in that work. The part of Gibbon's work alluded to was not published until four years after the death of Johnson. Is this superficiality or ignorance on the part of Mr. Croker!

Croker makes Goldsmith publish his Vicar of Wakefield in 1761; and charges Mrs. Piozzi with inaccuracy, for stating that Johnson left her table to go and sell that work for Goldsmith. Now the fact is, that the book was not published until 1765. Mr. Croker blunders, and on the strength of his own blunder charges Mrs. Piozzi with inaccuracy in an anecdote respecting that book. The bogtrotters of his native land could hardly outdo Mr. Croker in blundering after this. But this is

nothing. A Sir J. Mawbey tells an anecdote, on the authority of Garrick, which affords an illustration of the logic of Mr. Croker, and his manner of jumping to a conclusion from assumed premises, useful as a hint to gentlemen opposed to him in another place. Johnson is made by Mawbey to abuse Home and Macpherson at Oxford. Johnson, according to Croker, visited Oxford about the time of his Doctor's degree, in 1754. Douglas was not acted until 1756, and Ossian only appeared in 1760; ergo, according to the ex-secretary, the anecdote is false. Now what will the reader say to this happy mode of drawing an inference-this splendid specimen of illustrative editorship, when Johnson took only his Master's degree in 1754, but his Doctor's degree in 1775; and he visited Oxford in 1776? Now poor Mawbey only related the anecdote as "at Oxford," without stating when. Mr. Croker fixes the year at 1754; and gives Johnson a Doctor's degree about that time. He is so ignorant of the history of the hero of his work, that he does not know that he did not become LL. D. till twenty years afterwards!

Mr. Croker's learning is proved to be abundantly superficial in the same article. Unless he had known something more of classical literature, he should have refrained from such an exhibition of his total inadequacy to explain ancient tongues or writers. Discretion is a most valuable appendage to a writer circumstanced as Mr. Croker appears to be, when he undertakes to illustrate and add even to a subject apparently as trivial as the notes of such an obsequious parasite as his author; one nevertheless entertaining and pleasant in the highest degree, even in the superlative of his servility. It is true, Mr. Croker often states that he cannot comprehend the text; but he is not on that account to misrepresent it: his want of understanding is not his reader's fault, however the latter may suffer from his inflictions. We have done with our observations on Croker's Boswell, as connected with the Edinburgh Review, only stating that we have enumerated a mere sample of errors in the edition, which is to all intents or purposes a most imperfect one. Mr. Croker, it appears, is little adapted for a task where a rigid adherence to facts, laborious research, and even but a moderate share of learning, are required. Flippancy will be found a very ill substitute for patient investigation. Mr. Croker's task was by no means a difficult one, yet it would have puzzled any living writer to have treated it with less credit to his judgment. The edition is a medley, jumbled without regard to the narration, either in manner or style; and we must still buy separately, if we would enjoy the reading them, each of the works which Mr. Croker has blended together; and what that gentleman has added to the stock from sources not before the public, must make another separate division. We have dwelt too much on the opinions of the Edinburgh Review, and have so little space or inclination to lengthen our remarks, that we must conclude by recommending our readers to make marginal corrections of the blunders in this edition of Boswell, if they happen to possess it; and to rely less upon the observations of the editor than upon their own good sense, after an attentive examination of facts, and a due comparison of them with other accessible works. For our own parts, we are so fond of this extraordinary book of Boswell's, that we shall be at the pains of correcting Mr. Croker's errors, and of embellishing a copy for our own especial use. It is a work well worthy of possessing, despite its defects; but then it is so, not on account of the mode in which it has been put together, for to its editor it is little indebted except for its confused arrangement, but because almost all relating to the subject is concentrated in its pages: and we may correct, disentangle, and arrange the contents, agreeably to our wishes, though it is rather hard Mr. Croker should not have performed the task for us in a way worthy the expectations entertained of his ability for the undertaking.

Narrative of the Ashantee War, &c. By MAJOR RICKETTS, late of the Royal African Colonial Corps. 18mo. Simpkin and Marshall. We want nothing to increase our abhorrence of war, even among the more civilized communities; but in what terms shall we express our feelings of the greater horrors of its presence among the uncultivated portion of mankind? In the present volume, we are forcibly struck with the dreadful pictures of savage barbarity laid

before us, and we recoil from them as from things which would seem to appertain to demons rather than to men. There is also another source of astonishment in these pages, flowing from the stronghold which the most debasing passion of the human heart-the thirst of gold, takes of the soul, so as to make rational men dare what neither the love of fame nor virtue could prompt them to undertake. The colonies on the coast of Africa are well known to be the grave of nine-tenths who visit them, in a month or two after landing. They are inhabited by the most debased and brutal of the human species, and are situated under a burning sun upon pestilential wastes, where even the opening of the soil is fatal to European existence. Yet apart from social life, within the very verge of the tomb itself, civilized man has for a series of years taken up positions for traffic, and as fast as one shoal of persons perish in the unavailing pursuit, another follows to meet the same fate-a fate which, though almost certain, yields no lesson to survivors, nor diminishes one iota the desire of gain.

Major Ricketts is one of those who has had the extraordinary good fortune to return home after serving in Africa. His book begins with the government of Sir C. M'Carthy, details the causes that led to the war in which that officer fell, the battle itself, the death of Sir Charles, and the subsequent events, together with the defeat of the king of Ashantee, and his final submission. Sir Charles M'Carthy reached the coast in March, 1822. Soon after, the king of Ashantee, imagining himself insulted by the British, demanded a sum of money to purchase peace, and in case of refusal threatened hostilities. A short time after, hostilities commenced between the Ashantees and the people of the coast: who, in consequence of an affair at a place called Moorie, fortified themselves against their foes, by erecting mud forts as a last refuge. A serjeant in the African Colonial Corps was soon after murdered in cold blood by the command of Osai, king of the Ashantees. On this Sir C. M'Carthy thought it necessary to bestir himself, and proceeded to Annamaboo for that purpose, in a carriage drawn by natives; for such is the badness of the climate, that neither horses, asses, nor mules will thrive at Cape Coast, always dying soon after they are landed. At Acra alone, horses have been known to exist a year or two. Sir Charles was well received. An expedition was then formed against the Ashantees, which was obliged to retire. The king threatened to drive the English into the sea. After some minor affairs, the governor prepared for offensive warfare. Upon enlisting as many of the natives as possible, with a very weak and inadequate force, Sir Charles found himself in presence of the enemy, said to be ten thousand in number. The combat now began. The Governor's troops had only twenty rounds of ammunition; for the regular supplies, owing to mismanagement, were far in the rear: our fire slackened in consequence; and the enemy crossing the river in their front, pressed forward and overpowered the forces opposed to them, who could make but little resistance. Sir C. M'Carthy received several wounds. Major Ricketts and others were fortunate enough to escape to Cape Coast Castle, and the Major soon after assumed the command of the army. Mr. Williams, the colonial secretary, was taken prisoner by the Ashantees, and afterwards given up. Mr. Williams stated, that he left the field of battle in company with Sir C. McCarthy, Mr. Buckle, and Ensign Wetherell; that after proceeding a short distance, they were attacked by a party of the enemy. Sir Charles had an arm broken, and, receiving also a wound in the chest, fell. They then removed him under a tree. Mr. Williams now received a ball in the thigh, and fell senseless. He was preserved by the recognition of an Ashantee chief, to whom he had once rendered a kindness. On recovering his senses, he saw the headless trunks of Sir C. McCarthy, Mr. Buckle, and Ensign Wetherell, and was taken to Assamacow, and locked up at night in a room with the heads of his three friends, which by some process had been preserved. Sir C. M'Carthy's presented nearly the same appearance as when he was alive. The war now assumed a defensive character, and the Ashantees still pressed forward. Shortly after the King of Ashantee died, and his brother assumed the crown. He advanced upon the town. Lieutenant-Colonel Sutherland had the command, and supplies had been brought by Sir John Phillimore. Some skirmishing ensued, and the Ashantees retreated,

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suffering dreadfully from the small-pox. They had eaten the heart of Sir Charles M'Carthy, dried his flesh, and carried it about them as a charm. LieutenantColonel Grant, with a few artillery-men, and some of the rocket corps, had by this time been landed from England. A famine broke out among our allies, and the climate began to snatch its victims from the Europeans; but fortunately some cargoes of rice arrived, and saved the lives of thousands. General Turner came with more troops; he soon left for Sierra Leone, and there died. He was succeeded by Sir Neil Campbell, who, leaving Sierra Leone, arrived at Cape Coast, took the command, and gave battle to the Ashantees. They were beaten with great loss. Our forces were about three hundred and fifty muskets, and two thousand native allies. These latter made no prisoners, but put all to death that fell into their power. Happy were they," says Major Ricketts, "whose sufferings were short. In vain the gentlemen implored them to hold their hand, or at least to kill them outright; some were ripped up, and cut across the belly, when, plunging their hands in, they took out the heart, pouring the blood on the ground as a libation to the good fortune of the cause: others, when they saw their own friends weltering in their blood, would give them a blow on the breast or head, to put an end to their misery. In many instances they dragged each other from the opposite ranks, and wrestled and cut one another in pieces; and fortunate was he whose knife first found out the vital part in his foe during the deadly grapple, though perhaps in his turn to be laid low by the same means!" Well may Major Ricketts describe the battle as giving "no bad idea of the infernal regions." The whole of the Ashantee camp was taken with all their baggage and gold. Among the allies of the British was the Queen of Akim, who boasted that though she was "" a woman, she had the heart of a man." Major Ricketts was now left in the chief command, Sir N. Campbell embarking for Sierra Leone. The Ashantees soon after made peace. After other less important circumstances, Major Ricketts returns to Cape Coast Castle, and organizes the militia; transfers the forts to the merchants; and then succeeds to the government of Sierra Leone. The Major saw no less than five governors appointed, and all fall victims to the climate, save one. Finally, the sickness forced Major Ricketts to relinquish his post of Governor of Sierra Leone, and return to England. The account given of the climate is exceedingly interesting, as well as of the colony itself. The whole duty on the coast is now done by black soldiers.

On the whole this work is most interesting, and will be regarded as affording most important information. It is, we believe, the only authentic account of the Ashantee war.

The Winter's Wreath for 1832. Whittaker and Co., London:

Smith, Liverpool.

We noticed the very beautiful embellishments of this elegant Annual last month; and this, the text, is the first of the Annuals put into our hands. Of course we have done with the engravings, as our opinion is already recorded of them. The Winter's Wreath is printed, and most beautifully printed too, at Liverpool. Its contributors were among the very first writers in that class of works, and some of them contributed to this alone: the late lamented Roscoe was one of these; Mrs. Shelley, the author of "Selwyn;" Mrs. Hemans, the Howitts, Mr. W. H. Harrison, Mr. T. Roscoe, Delta, Archdeacon Wrangham, Mr. Inglis, Mr. Wiffen, &c. &c., figure in its pages, beside other pens, some of anonymous contributors, and all elegant and amusing, if not surpassingly excellent. In a work of so fleeting a description as an Annual, it is hardly to be expected that authors will put out all their strength; but there are pieces here very beautiful; and we do not hesitate to say, that in this respect the Winter's Wreath will bear comparison with any of its rivals. It has always been a favourite of ours, and has from year to year improved, which is a sign of a goodly growth.

The Friendship's Offering, 1832. Smith, Elder, and Co.

This, the oldest but one of the family of the Annuals, makes its appearance with more than usual attraction, particularly in the editorial department, which confers great credit on Mr. Pringle's industry and talent. The embellishments are very charming, and there is one of them of a novel character. It is from a painting

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