allowability of a practical joke, when there was positively no other way of getting rid of time-and the contempt with which he had dared anybody to take him in-if they could.

As this reminiscence served to check the bitter complaints of which the major was about to deliver himself, he summoned sufficient discretion "to smooth his cheek to smiles," and pretend to laugh at his own misfortune.

At any rate, his equanimity was completely restored, when some whisky, lemons, and sugar, smuggled from the neighboring village, were mingled with the water supplied so lavishly by the institution, and, the door being locked, he sat with Mr. Barnard enjoying the same after dinner.

And now we have come to the last chapter, which, according to all rules and precedents, should contain a wedding, or, at the very least, an engagement. I have something of the kind to put into it, you may be sure, though it may not prove of the most legitimate description.

In fact, had I persevered in my first idea, and made a romance out of this matter, I should have bestowed the hand of Miss Kate Lawton upon Signor Kwinsidi, the gentleman from Norway, or Sir Harold Skiff, the English baronet; both of whom, as I learn from my uncle's diary, were sojourners at the establishment during his visit, and appear to have been of person and years suitable for the manufacture of a hero.

But, as I have determined to adhere to the real facts in the case, and tell, not what Miss Kate could, would, or should have done, but, what she actually did do-I am compelled to declare that she is at present my aunt.

To make a lively young creature of three-and-twenty marry a somewhat infirm gentleman of forty-two, even if he did have a fine house in the country, and co ld keep his carriage in town, would,

I admit, in any work of fiction be utterly unnatural and preposterous. I can only urge, in palliation of so original a finale, the excuse Ben Jonson once advanced for dispensing with the graces of rhyme -that the fact stated happens to be true.

Of course I was astonished at the engagement, and suspected the parties immediately concerned must have been still more so. Yet, it is not difficult to see how it happened. My uncle had never seen so much of any lady before, and no lady had ever seemed so disposed to see a great deal of him. But, after all, it is likely enough that the whole affair was determined upon and arranged soon after Major Wherrey's arrival. "Here is a good-tempered gentleman, of handsome fortune, who only wants a little encouragement, to take a wife to assist him in spending it and if so, why should not I as well as any one else profit by the circumstance?" Mind,-I don't say that Miss Kate said or thought anything of the kind; I only decline to peril the perfect authenticity of this history by declaring that she did not.

But however it came about, I am heartily glad that it did come about somehow -for a happier match was never lighted amid such watery surroundings. Happy! yes, you would have thought so, had you been at Bearbrook last winter during the session of the Court. Why, that great house was full of company, and Major Wherrey, all smiles, was going about from one guest to another, expatiating upon the excellence of his wife and his cranberries, and treating us all to make our elves perfectly at home-for which everyone thanked him sincerely. and declared they would.

And, what is more, I believe we did t too-only that nobody's real home cor id have been half so amusing. You should have seen our Bearbrook theatricalsnot the performance of Love's Sacrifice: that to be sure was a failure-but those two farces in which Aunt Catherine played the chambermaid, and had fifteen bouquets thrown upon her by the delighted audience. And then that good romping country ball when the young lady who "never meant to marry" found herself engaged to Sir Harold Skiff; and Mr. Barnard sang that capital song after supper, and even Kwinsidi, the imperturbable Norwegian, was stimulated into something like life. But, as the reader did not see all this (that is supposing he was not of the party), I can only wish him better luck another time, and not

try to anticipate his pleasure by imperfect reminiscences.

In conclusion, then-but, stop:-before concluding, I wish to say a word to Mr. Frank Osborne, whose history of “Wensley” I have just read with almost unmingled satisfaction.

There exists in that work a passage highly commendatory of the "institution of cousins," and, by implication, rather severe upon those who are slow to appreciate the advantages of this blessed relationship; but, Mr. Osborne, had you

had a young and pretty kinswoman, to whose luxurious mansion you were al ways welcomed, whom you could drive, and read to, and take to the theatre, without the confounded report of an engagement, and the shrugs and frowns of fathers and brothers-had you found such a treasure at Wensley, should we not have read:

"Cousins may be very well for those who can get nothing better; but,—there Is virtue in an Aunt.

HE title of this recently issued work is

sion of the life and fortunes of a great poet, and of a great poem. We desire to speak of both; but what we have to say must be briefly said, and we shall endeavor to concentrate our critical illumination upon a few topics suggested by Dr. Hart's volume, rather than to diffuse it over the whole ground. Let us begin by recapitulating the prominent incidents of the poet's life.

In London, just about three hundred and one years ago, was born Edmund Spenser. At that time the future Queen Elizabeth was twenty years of age. Five years afterwards she succeeded to the English crown. Raleigh-SpenserSidney-friends so congenial, and men so eminent in those "spacious times of great Elizabeth," were singularly cotemporaneous in their origin. Raleigh was born in 1552, Spenser in 53, and Sidney

in 54.

At sixteen, Spenser entered one of the colleges at Cambridge as a charity scholar. There, during his seven years of study, he became intimate with one Gabriel Harvey, a singular man, whose eccentricities attracted the outrageous ridicule of Thomas Nash, a student of the same university, and

ne of the liveliest satirists of the time. Harvey was not only learned, bat fond of displaying his acquirements, fall of conceit, singular in his manners and dress, and especially oracular on matters of astrology. But Harvey, for all his whimsicalities, became a warm and active friend of Spenser, and ma

terially assisted his promotion in after life.

Spenser left Cambridge at twentythree, and resided about two years at some unascertained place in the north of England. There he fell in love with a wayward "Rosalind," who liked and loathed him, and finally rejected his suit. However harrowing such an accident must have been to one of the gentlest of the gentle race of poets, it has been by the common consent of mankind declared essential to the discipline of all poets, inasmuch as nothing less grievous is supposed to induce that desperate state of mind in which successful poets are popularly believed to write successful poetry. The literary results of the affliction, in Spenser's case, were not long afterwards before the world. But passing by his poetry for the present, let us first deal with his biography as a man.

Harvey, assisted doubtless by the unfortunate love affair, enticed his friend from his seclusion, and introduced him to Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, and his nephew, Sir Philip Sidney-personages then high in favor with the queen -noble, wealthy, adorned with manifold accomplishments, after the fashion of gentlemen of the time, and congenial (especially Sidney), to the peculiar abilities of Spenser. These noblemen were not slow in discovering his wealth of mind and heart, and, from mingled motives of admiration and friendly affection, gave the young poet patronage—a home, and to some extent employment, and in 1580 secured his appointment as a secretary to Lord Gray, then about

to assume the government of Ireland. Thither Sp-nser followed his superior, and there received various minor offices and emoluments, and in 1586 a grant from the crown of 3,028 acres in the county of Cork, being part of the estate of the Earl of Desmond, forfeited by treason and rebellion. Sir Walter Raleigh had previously received nearly 12,000 acres of the same domain; and it is curious that there is no record of acquaintance between Spenser and Raleigh until after these possessions had made them neighbors. The grant to Spenser required his residence upon his estate, and he took up his abode at Kilcolman Castle, an ancient stronghold of the Earls of Desmond. It was situated on the shore of a lake, which was surrounded by a plain, the whole being encircled in the distance by mountains. This old castle remains (or did recently remain), a ruin strikingly venerable and picturesque, and surrounded by some of the fairest scenery of Ireland. Here began the halcyon days of Spenser. He had seen trouble; the leisure and competence which he desired had been delayed by the ill-will of Cecil and others who were rivals to his patron, Leicester, but now the clouds which had "lowr'd upon his house" seemed to be "in the deep bosom of the ocean buried." At Kilcolman he lived twelve years, during which he married the lady whose graces and virtues are so magnificently celebrated in his "Epithalamium.' During this period the larger portion of his poetry was composed. Here, too, he was visited by one whom he styled "the Shepherd of the Ocean"--Raleigh -who, familiar with foreign adventure, brought an account of that New World, quite as novel, and almost as romantic as the continent just discovered, and in part explored, by Spenser in his own exuberant imagination. Here, too, without anachronism, we may imagine Raleigh to have initiated his friend into a new art and nystery, then lately imported from America by an expedition which he had sent thither. As they reclined at a window of the old castle, or among the alders "by the Mulla's shore," we may fancy them wrapt in

cloud not altogether ideal, while "wound and loitered, idly free, the current of unguued talk."

But a wild storm was mustering behind the mountains that bounded the fair horizon of Kilcolman. It quickly overspread the heavens and burst. It

made shipwreck of the fortunes of Spenser, and sent his life down amid sorrow and desolation to the grave.

It is difficult to comprehend fully the condition of Ireland at that time; but it does seem as if there never had been, from the remotest period, a nation more shockingly cursed with anarchy and misrule, than the Irish. The first authentic fragment of the history of Ireland, is found in Tacitus, who mentions that an Irish chief, driven from his country by civil war, came to Agricola, and endeavored to persuade him to invade Ireland, assuring him, that a single legion of Roman soldiers would be sufficient to overrun and subdue the whole island. This incident is a fair exponent of centuries of the succeeding history of Ireland Government, so far as it existed at all, remained for a long period in the form. which it always assumes among barbarous nations-that of petty independent tribes, between which there is no bond of union, ruled by chiefs who are perpetually at feud with each other. The country was successively invaded, at different periods, by the English, the Danes, and again, the English; but these invasions were predatory and partial The Celts were not subdued, nor their governments centralized. Neither was the condition of the native tribes elevated by the infusion of new political and social elements. On the contrary, those of the invaders who remained, retrograded, and assumed the manners and spirit of the natives. They embodied themselves in new clans, and by new feuds between themselves, and with their neighbors, complicated the existing anarchy and misery.

The power of England, however, gradually increased and predominated in Ireland, from the invasion under Henry II., in 1172, until its thorough establishment in the time of Elizabeth. But, throughout all that period, Ireland may be considered as territory partially colonized by English subjects, rather than as an integral portion of England under English law. The barbarism and poverty of the country rendered it unprofitable to the English sovereigns; they had enough to do to handle France and their home affairs, and they gave themselves very little concern about Ireland. When Elizabeth came to the throne, the tendency to rebellion was aggravated by religious dissension. The Celtic race continued loyal to Catholicism, which, at a very early period, had become the

religion of Ireland. The Protestant reform, under Henry VIII. and Edward VI., had been pushed with the intemperate violence characteristic of the times; and though the Catholic rule of Mary allayed political disturbances for a while, the accession of Elizabeth opened afresh the old wound. Philip of Spain, also, exasperated by the loss of his influence in England, and the refusal of Elizabeth to marry him, stimulated the factions in Ireland. These factions Elizabeth endeavored at one time to conciliate by policy, and at another to subdue by arms; and she lived just long enough to see the latter object accomplished.

At the date of the grant which gave Spenser his title to Kilcolman, one of these troublesome factions, headed by the Earl of Desmond, had lately been quelled. The earl himself had been put to death, and his domain, which was immense, embracing a large portion of the county of Munster, in the south of Ireland, had been vested in the Crown. This territory Elizabeth endeavored so to distribute among her English-born subjects as to strengthen her government in the rebellious district. In carrying out this policy, she issued grants to whomsoever she chose, empowering those parties, to buy up portions of the confiscated estate, on condition of actual settlement thereon, at the low price of two-pence per acre. A subsequent rebellion under Tyrone and his confederates, which was quelled not long after, brought half a million of acres in the north of Ireland into market in the same maurer, and thus Englishmen became landlords of the soil of Ireland, as they are to this day.

At the period to which we have brought the life of Spenser, his fairy home at Kilcolman was flourishing, like a vineyard of Naples, on the breast of a volcano. A new insurrection, kindled from Tyrone's rebellion in the north, suddenly broke out in the south, during the progress of which, a lineal heir of the Earl of Desmond attempted to oust the English possessors of the estate. Backed by a wild mob-" the rough rugLeaded Kernes of Ireland-he surprised Kileolman Castle and burnt it. Spenser and his wife had brief notice, and escaped; but, in the confusion, an infant eid of the poet was left behind, and perished in the conflagration. Spenser Inade good his flight to England, and three months afterwards, January 16th, 1559, at the age of forty-six, died in TOL. V.-3

London. During those three months, for reasons which we can only conjecture, but which it is easy to conceive, he had lived obscurely. Yet, at his death he was publicly and duly honored. The Earl of Essex gave him a costly funeral, and his remains were laid near those of Chaucer, in Westminster Abbey.

On reviewing what is left us of the biography of Spenser, it is not difficult to define a pretty satisfactory outline of his character as a man. In his case we are not much troubled by those inconsistent traits which render some characters hard to draw. It is noticeable that throughout his whole life, he was dependent, for worldly advancement, on the bountiful love and admiration of a few good friends-Harvey-Sidney-Leicester-and the queen. It is noticeable that his acquisitions of wealth and honors, and his poetical achievements, made him but few enemies; and that those who laid blocks in the way of his advancement at court, appear to have done so from partisan, and not personal, motives. In his day great license was allowed to satire, and it so happened that its keenest arrows were levelled at his nearest friends. Harvey, especially, was a shining mark for the crossbow of Nash, and was "punched full of deadly holes;" but Spenser does not seem to have made himself sufficiently disagreeable or ridiculous to give any point to the wit of malice. In his own poetical attempts at satire, the wit is not pungent nor the application close-it is that diffused satire of classes and conditions of men which does not betray the hand of "a special good hater."

To his youthful love affair he makes various allusions in his writings, and in a poem written shortly after it, treats it, under feigned names, at some length; yet without asperity or any bitterness, save the bitterness of a too aspiring and disappointed affection, for which he blames no one but himself. But many years afterwards, we find him, on occasion of his marriage, honoring the reci procated affection of his new love with a nuptial song, which, in exuberance of imagery and brilliancy of spirit, is not surpassed-perhaps not equalled—by the same number of lines anywhere else in all his works.

Another illustration of his temper may be found in a literary affair in which he took part. At a certain time Sidney, Harvey, and Dyer, formed a project, which was no less than that of banishing

rhyme and accented rhythm from English prosody, and substituting in their stead a species of hexameter verse. This audacious attempt proved-as we believe that all such attempts will prove-a failure. The Saxon mind, from whatever cause we may choose to assign, does not, cannot, and will not move in such a measure. The thing has been repeatedly tried, until it has become just a little less than certain, that the poet who attempts a work in English hexameters thereby foredooms his own defeat; and we can half forgive the venomousness of Nash, in consideration of a sound remark which he made at that time, namely, that "the hexameter, though a gentleman of an ancient house, was not likely to thrive in this clime of ours, the soil being too craggy to set his plough in."

Spenser's private judgment does not appear to have approved the innovation, yet in deference to his friends, and "fondly overcome by Sidney's charm," he laid aside, for a time, his great work, "The Fairy Queen," and wrote hexa

meters.

Then, again, the friends on whom Spenser's fortune most depended, with whom his biographers most intimately associate him, and who, in literary tastes and abilities, were congenial, were nevertheless, in some respects, very different men, and passed a very different course of life. Raleigh and Sidney were stirring men of the times, and the times offered them abundant opportunities for stirring. The court was headed by a queen, who, while she knew how to retain her power firmly, understood also every art of coquetting with it, and contrived to perpetuate, even to old age, a game highly exciting and alluring to whosoever of her subjects were chivalrous, accomplished and intriguing. Elizabeth had a shrewd eye for all that a woman admires in a man. Being inordinately fond of flattery, she made precisely that use of her royal power in her court, which a belle inakes of her beauty in a ball-room; consequently, her court furnished a brilliant field for the achievements of men, who, to the graces of the beau, added the genius of the diplomatist. Then, too, the world abroad was alive with action. America, not half discovered, hung like a dominion in the evening clouds, just sufficiently defined to allure adventurous spirits in quest of all manner of golden imaginations. Up the northern Atlantic cane sweeping, in a seven-mile crescent, the Spanish

Armada, breathing out threatenings, and horribly armed with death and hell torture. On the southern main, the Spanish plate fleet, bearing millions of treasure, and doubtfully convoyed, tempted reprisals. In Ireland, rebellion and confusion abounded; and, on the Continent, Catholic and Protestant had each other by the throat. Of such like affairs, Raleigh and Sidney saw much, and were a part. They were men of bravery and spirit, who craved action, and their contributions to the literature of England were mostly the rainy-day labors of minds laid on the shelf by misfortune, and too restless to remain idle. With these men, and in these times, Spenser's lot was cast; yet the inspiration of these men and times he reflected and illustrated, not at all in his own exploits, but only in the adventures of elfin knights and ladies, the creations of his imagination.

And now, going back to the paragraph where we left his remains reposing in Westminster Abbey, what does all that intervenes, in its relation to his character, indicate respecting him? What else can it indicate than that he was a man singularly gentle, modest, loving, tractable, prudent, and forgiving-a man as little tinctured with selfish and unkind passion as any man? Had he been differenthad he possessed, in any considerable degree, the incompatible and uncompromising qualities of Dante, or Milton, or Byron, could he have gone through life so smoothly, and left behind him so clear a record?

Yet, there are one or two accusations brought against him which should not be passed over. During the tenure of his estate in Ireland, he is accused, on the authority of existing legal documents, of having attempted to add unjustly to his possessions. He also wrote, in 1596, a political treatise on the state of Ireland, in which he strongly advocates the exercise of Elizabeth's arbitrary power. Neither the documents nor the treatise referred to are within our reach, and how far they compromise the character of Spenser we cannot judge. We desire not to fashion an ideal character for him, but to ascertain the strict truth respecting him. Notwithstanding his fair fame, he might have been, in some things, ungentle and unjust. We know that very good men have done things that were very wrong; yet we know that it is unfair to judge any man by one or two particular instances of conduct. Conduct indicates character only so far