which we have a joyous band of vagabonds met for a night's conviviality in an alehouse. They are "all in rags, brawlers and gipsies, who fight, bang, and kiss each other, and make the glasses ring with the noise of their good humour." In the Twa Dogs, and the Cottar's Saturday Night, Burns shows how many good qualities exist among the peasantry of Scotland. In his smaller poems, again, we see the tender and sympathizing nature of the poet exhibited in such subjects as a wounded hare, the turning up of a mouse's nest with his plough, or a little mountain daisy. Burns, however, is best known as a lyric poet. His songs are mostly about love, patriotism, and pleasure. Of the first, that beginning "Ae fond kiss, and then we part," is a good example; of the second, "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled;" and of the third, the songs which occur throughout the Jolly Beggars. The characteristics of his style are humour, careful and loving study of nature, and an ability to express the motions of the human heart which Shakespeare alone has been able to excel. His songs, for this reason, are known and sung in all regions of the globe, sometimes in their original dress, and sometimes as translated into other languages. TO MARY IN HEAVEN. "Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray, My Mary from my soul was torn. Oh, Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? "That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! THOMAS PERCY. "Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his peebled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green; "Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, Where is thy place of blissful rest? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?" 117 Other Poets. It was during the period now under consideration that ROBERT FALCONER wrote his sailor-like description of the Shipwreck; that CHARLES CHURCHILL, a dissipated clergyman, published his great satirical poem, the Prophecy of Famine; that DR. ERASMUS DARWIN, the botanist, wrote about the loves and marriages of the flowers; and that either MICHAEL BRUCE OF JOHN LOGAN composed that most beautiful of lyric ballads, the Song to the Cuckoo ("Hail beauteous stranger of the grove," &c.) Besides Chatterton's literary forgery, the period was remarkable for another, that of JAMES MACPHERSON, a Scotch poet, who published Fingal, Temora, and other poems of an epic character, alleging that they were translations from the writings of a Gaelic poet of the third century, named OSSIAN. It has since been generally admitted that they are forgeries. BALLAD POETRY. In 1765, THOMAS PERCY, afterwards Bishop of Dromore, published a collection of ballads or narratives in verse, which had been handed down by tradition, and copied out by such as took a fancy to them. These were often written by persons of no education, who expressed their thoughts in a rude yet natural way. The effect of (the Duenna), the best farce (the Critic), and delivered the very best oration (that on the Begums of Oude) ever conceived or heard in this country. His two greatest plays are, the School for Scandal and the Rivals. The former is a very witty production, showing the mischievous results of gossip; and the latter one of the most humorous of comedies. One of the best known characters is that of Mrs. Malaprop, a pedantic and ignorant woman, who continually makes use of words similar in sound to those which would express her meaning, but entirely inappropriate and absurd as she employs them. MRS. MALAPROP'S IDEAS ON FEMALE EDUCATION. Sir Anthony Absolute. Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation, now, what would you have a woman know? Mrs. M. Observe me, Sir Anthony, I would by no means wish a daughter of mine to be a progeny of learning; I don't think so much learning becomes a young woman: for instance, I would never let her meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or algebra, or simony, or fluxion, or paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning; nor will it be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, diabolical instruments; but, Sir Anthony, I would send her, at nine years old, to a boarding school, in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice: then, sir, she would have a supercilious knowledge in accounts; and, as she grew up, I would have her instructed in geometry, that she might know something of the contagious countries: this, Sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman know; and I don't think there is a superstitious article in it.-The Rivals. Other Dramatists.-Besides Goldsmith and Sheridan, there were several other dramatists of note. Among them were the COLMANS-father and son-the latter of whom wrote a comedy entitled The Heir at Law; MRS. INCHBALD, an actress, dramatist, and novelist; and the REV. JOHN HOME, a minister of the Scotch Church, who had to resign his charge because he wrote the tragedy of Douglas. With the exception of the lines beginning, "My name is Norval," this once well known play is all but forgotten. DAVID GARRICK, the famous actor, wrote several plays, as did also SAMUEL FOOTE, the mimic. LAWRENCE STERNE. 121 CHAPTER XIII. PROSE LITERATURE-FROM 1750 TILL 1800. CHARACTERISTICS OF THE PERIOD. NOVELISTS.-Sterne-Other Novelists. HISTORIANS.-HumeRobertson-Gibbon-Other Historians. PHILOSOPHERS. Smith-Paley-Reid-Other Philosophers. MISCELLANEOUS WRITERS.-Johnson-Burke-Other Miscellaneous Writers. The great novelists of the early part of the century had numerous imitators, but only one-Lawrence Sterne-has been judged worthy to occupy the highest place. The inferior novels were, for the most part, trashy, and were eagerly devoured by uneducated people, greedy of such excitement as these books afforded. The great feature of the age was the brilliant group of historians-Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon-writers who recorded with spirit and dignity the story of the past; nor should we forget to mention the name of Dr. Samuel Johnson, whose writings had a powerful influence on English prose. NOVELISTS. LAWRENCE STERNE (b. 1713, d. 1768) was born at Clonmel, in Ireland. He was educated at Cambridge, and became a clergyman of the Church of England. For twenty years he resided at Sutton, and afterwards at Coxwold. His style of life was not exactly what one might have expected of a minister, for he devoted himself to painting, fiddling, shooting; ill-used his wife, quarrelled with the neighbouring clergy, and wrote books which contain very many disgraceful allusions. When he had published the first part of his great book-Tristram Shandy-he became the lion of the day, and went to London, where they petted and made much of him. Twice he made a tour on the continent, and his experiences are recorded in his Sentimental Journey. His death occurred in a London lodging-house, where he had neither relative nor friend to comfort him in his last moments. Tristram Shandy is one of the most eccentric books in the language. The story-though it contains admirably drawn characters, such as the crotchety Mr. Shandy, the kind-hearted Uncle Toby who would not harm a fly, and his servant Corporal Trim-occupies but a small portion of the book. Sterne describes the course of his story by drawing a straight line to represent the narrative, and a number of zig-zags to show the digressions on all sorts of subjects in which he indulges; and there is far more of zig-zag than of straight line. The great defect of the book is the coarseness of its allusions. The same fault exists in the Sentimental Journey, which is otherwise a pleasant book to read. The prominent characteristics of the writings of Sterne are learning, wit, humour, and pathos. Sterne, it must be added, was a great plagiarist, i. e., one who takes original matter from other books without acknowledgment. A PRISONER. "I took a single captive, and having first shut him up in his dungeon, I then looked through the twilight of his grated door to take his picture. I beheld his body half wasted away with long expectation and confinement, and felt what kind of sickness of the heart it was which arises from hope deferred. Upon looking nearer, I saw him pale and feverish; in thirty years the western breeze had not once fanned his blood; he had seen no sun, no moon, in all that time, nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through his lattice; his children-but here my heart began to bleed, and I was forced to go on with another part of the portrait. He was sitting upon the ground upon a little straw, in the farthest corner of his dungeon, which was alternately his chair and bed: a little calendar of small sticks lay at the head, notched all over with the dismal days and nights he had passed there; he had one of these little sticks in his hand, and with a rusty nail he was etching another day of misery to add to the heap. As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eye towards the door, then cast it down, shook his head, and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle. He gave a deep sigh: I saw the |