criminate strictures upon any community; and among the thousands, who still reside within the papal walls, I should be grieved to think that honesty is an empty name. Yet personal intercourse has concurred with the unbiassed representations of individuals in establishing the deplorable fact, that amidst the frequent repetitions of the solemn summons to offices of devotion, real or feigned bigotry, sneaking finesse, and disregard to truth, reign triumphant. Thus, too, is Rome a well known seat of atheism and chicane-and thus it will ever be, when idleness takes place of industry, when rewards are held out to unworthy compliances and talents for intrigue, when the accommodations of confession and absolution are of easy access, when phantoms are substituted for realities, and a childish mummery for the love of God and of our fellow-men.-Well said a sensible and affectionate friend, you have to pass some months at Avignon, which shelters the French renegado, and fosters an undue proportion of monks and clergy. I studied there myself, and am no stranger to the character of the inhabitants-Beware of forming intimacies, and recollect that the Catholics are there the Jaws. The point of this parting exhortation recurred with singular zest when, upon a Friday evening, a canon of the cathedral politely offered to conduct me to the synagogue. The latter is small, but neat, and mimies the distribution of the temple of Jerusalem. The chanting of the Hebrew service is peculiarly grating, but the composed air of the worshippers betokens the sincerity of devotion. The women occupy an under apartment, and have the service read to them in the Provençal dialect, as few of them understand Hebrew. When I took the liberty of asking one of them why so few of her sex attended the synagogue, she replied that most of them were occupied with family concerns, and could say their prayers at home. Nor would I willingly suppress the following trait. Upon observing an elderly man, to whom those in the porch paid particular attention, I presumed he was a rabbi--but was soon informed that he was a simple honest trader, who had lately paid the amount of a bond of surety, which, owing to some flaw in the deed, he might have evaded with impunity. He is nearly reduced to poverty, but has acquired additional respect, and has preserved his peace of mind. His brethren here, to the number of five or six hundred, are allowed to live cooped up in a separaté and ill aired quarter of the town, in consideration of repeated douceurs, and upon condition that the men wear orange or yellow hats, and the women flat caps, stuffed at the sides. Yet it is generally allowed that they live quietly, and that they are more exemplary than their neighbours in the discharge of domestic duties. Their modest inoffensive deportment must sensibly affect every feeling mind, and induce it to sympathize with an unfortunate portion of our species, so long branded with epithets of the vilest abuse, so often doomed to bleed at the shrine of relentless fanaticism, so often goaded by persecution to gratify the avarice or the caprice of princes. Among Jews, no' doubt, may be found usurers, and men of more acuteness than delicacy in the transactions of life, but, in a commercial state of society, usury ceases to be a crime, and they who stake their only property at a more than ordinary risk, are well entitled to an advanced premium. Depravity X 3 Depravity of the sense of honour is an almost necessary consequence of marked opprobrium and invidious segregation. Cease to stigmatise a degraded class of beings-admit them to the equal rights of humanity, open to their view other prospects than those of mere loss and gain, and then censure, if you will, their dereliction of integrity. The slave still groans under the sanction of European laws-the myriad shades of Indians are unappeased-must we also pursue with infamy and scorn the harrassed remnants of a once distinguished people?' In the course of the author's account of Marseilles, we find the following interesting story respecting an eminent character, which we believe to be not generally known, and which subsequent information leads us to consider as authentic : A young man, named Robert, sat alone in his boat, in the harbour of Marseilles. A stranger had stept in and taken his seat near him, but quickly rose again; observing, that, since the master had disappeared he would take another boat. "This, Sir, is mine,"said Robert,-" would you sail without the harbour?"-"I meant only to move about in the bason, and enjoy the coolness of this fine evening. But I cannot believe you are a sailor." "Nor am Iyet on Sundays and holidays, I act the bargeman, with a view to make up a sum."-"What! covetous at your age!-your looks had almost prepossessed me in your favour."" Alas! Sir, did you know my situation, you would not blame me."-" Well-perhaps I am mistaken-let us take our little cruize of pleasure, and acquaint me with your history." The stranger having resumed his seat, the dialogue, after a short pause, proceeded thus."1 perceive, young man, you are sadwhat grieves you thus ?" " My father, Sir, groans in fetters, and I cannot ransom him. He earned a livelihood by petty brokerage, but, in an evil hour, embarked for Smyrna, to superintend in person the delivery of a cargo, in which he had a concern. The vessel was captured by a Barbary corsair, and my father was conducted to Tetuan, where he is now a slave. They refuse to let him go for less than 2000 crowns, a sum which far exceeds our scanty means. However we do our best-my mother and sisters work day and night-I ply hard at my stated occupation of a journeyman jeweller, and, as you perceive, make the most I can of Sundays and holidays. I had resolved to put myself in my father's stead; but my mother, apprized of my design, and dreading the double privation of a husband and only son, requested the Levant captains to refuse me a passage.' "Pray, do you ever hear from your father?—under what name does he pass?-or what is his master's address ?" His master is overseer of the royal gardens at Fez-and my father's name is Robert at Tetuan, as at Marseilles."-" Robert-overseer of the royal gardens ?"" Yes, Sir."-" I am touched with your misfortunes-but venture to predict their termination." Night drew on apace. The unknown, upon landing, thrust into young Robert's hand a purse containing eight double louis d'ors, with ten crowns in silver-and instantly disappeared. F • Six A Six weeks had passed since this adventure, and each returning sun bore witness to the unremitting exertions of the good family. As they sat one day at their unsavoury meal of bread and dried almonds, old Robert entered the apartment, in a garb little suited to a fugitive prisoner, tenderly embraced his wife and children, and thanked them with tears of gratitude for the fifty louis they had caused remit to him on his sailing from Tetuan, his free passage, and a comfortable supply of wearing apparel. His astonished relatives eyed one another in silence. At length, Madame Robert, suspecting her son had secretly concerted the whole plan, recounted the various instances of his zeal. "Six thousand livres," continued she, "is the sum we wanted--and we had already procured somewhat more than the half, owing chiefly to his industry. Some friends, no doubt, have assisted him upon an emergency like the present." gloomy suggestion crossed the father's mind. Turning suddenly to his son, and eyeing him with the sternness of distraction, "Unfor tunate boy," exclaimed he, "what have you done? How can I be indebted to you for my freedom, and not regret it? How could you effect my ransom, without your mother's knowledge, unless at the expence of virtue? I tremble at the thought of filial affection having betrayed you into guilt. Tell the truth at once-and let us all die, if you have forfeited your integrity." "Calm your apprehensions, my dearest father," cried the son, embracing him,-"no, I am not unworthy of such a parent, though fortune has denied me the satisfaction of proving the full strength of my attachment-I am not your deliverer-but I know who is.-Recollect, mother, the unknown gentleman, who gave me the purse. He was particular in his enquiries. Should I pass my life in the pursuit, I must endeavour to meet with him, and invite him to contemplate the fruits of his beneficence." He then related to his father all that passed in the pleasure-boat, and removed every distressing suspicion. Restored to the bosom of his family, Robert again partook of their joys, prospered in his dealings, and saw his children comfortably established. At last, on a Sunday morning, as his son sauntered on the quay, he recognized his benefactor, clasped his knees, and entreated him as his guardian angel, as the saviour of a father and a family, to share the happiness of his own creation. The stranger again disappeared in the crowd-but, reader, this stranger was Montesquieu.' In taking leave of this work, we have only to add that the style is generally easy and correct: but we were sorry to find it disfigured by the frequent occurrence of Scotticisms: such as would for should, and vice versa; caused join, caused build, caused remit, caused bury, &c. ; to study prone on the floor;' preferably chose; &c. &c. This last is also objectionable as a pleonasm. In p. 120, the celebrated Gibbon is styled Gibbons; a mistake which we have observed in many other writers, and which confounds the magnificent historian with a humble divine. G.2. ART. XII. A New Version of the Psalms of David. By Joseph Crown 8vo. 4s. Boards. Longman and Co. Cottle. ART. XIII. A Poetical Version of certain Psalms of David. By Richard Cumberland, Esq. Crown 8vo. 28. Rivingtons. K' ING David has had more liberties taken with him, than any royal personage of either antient or modern times, Ports of all descriptions have made free with his compositions; and those pious effusions which he sang to his harp, or which were blended with the harmonious worship of the Jewish temple, have been twanged through the nose by Christian. clerks and psalm-singers, and vociferated with every possible. discordance. Of his persecutions, indeed, there seems to be no end; and rhymsters are still resolved, though he has already been turned and twisted a thousand ways, to exhibit him in new versions.The ease with which these publications are constructed is no small temptation to a lazy poet; for the spirit of Sternhold and Hopkins generally speaks in King David turned into English, and his sentiments have the disadvantage of being often clothed in the most feeble, tame, and aukward numbers. Some of the psalms in Watts's Version manifest considerable force and expression: but we cannot approve the liberty which he has taken in making David sing as if he were a Christian and not a Jewish monarch. Strictly speaking, they are not David's but Watts's Psalms, with the sentiments of the Hebrew poets (for not all those pieces intitled Psalms are the compositions. of David) liberally dispersed through them. This error, however, we understand, has been in a great measure corrected in a late edition; and we wish that this circumstance may be more fully considered in future. Let David and his contemporaries express themselves conformably to the degree of knowlege that marked the dispensation under which they lived; and let the doctrines and discoveries of the Gospel be displayed in separate hymns and canticles. The first of the versions before us betrays the fault of which we complain, viz. that of giving to David more wisdom than his own writings prove him to have possessed. Thus, Mr. Cottle makes David speak of the last great trump *. Mr. Cumberland has avoided this incongruity: but, if he has not transformed David into a Christian, he has put the language of heathenism into his mouth by making him describe the pendant globe as poised in the chains of Fate. * In his preface, however, Mr. C. protests against such anachropisms. We We expected, in Mr. Cumberland's version, fidelity combined with simple elegance: but he does not appear to have laboured to distinguish himself from the mass of modern translators of the Psalms. For example: What madness rages all abroad? What ails the Princes of the earth? I slept, reposing on his word; I rose, and lo! again I'm whole. "Tush! God is blind," the monster cries, Do this, O Man, and know withal I am beset and bay'd about.' So wasted and so gaunt am I.' He hoards up riches for the tomb, Or leaves them to he knows not whom.' When we read these lines, we cannot avoid saying that Mr. Cumberland's sacred muse has fallen too much into the drawling and hobbling gait of her predecessors. Mr. Cottle, who has undertaken a new version of all the Psalms, does not profess to be literal: his object being rather to catch the spirit than adhere to the letter. He has endeavoured (he says) to preserve a distinctness of subject in the respective Psalms; to accomplish which, he has been obliged not only to omit, but sometimes to transpose or paraphrase as the occasion most required.' These liberties may be allowable in certain places: but none of these reasons can justify his omission of the most beautiful passage of the 19th Psalm, which Mr. Cumberland has thus in part not unhappily rendered; With giant speed and bridal grace Neither he, however, nor Mr. Addison, has preserved the sublime idea of the whole starry firmament being the tabernacle of the great luminary. In the 139th Psalm, Mr. Cottle has committed an egregious blunder. The 9th verse is happily rendered by Watts, |