was amiable and kind, he remembered with peculiar pleasure the scenes of his boyhood, and no alteration of fortune or situation could wean him from the friendships of his early years. Science was with him no grovelling pursuit for mere distinction, or the acquisition of wealth; but, to use his own language, it was "the love of knowledge or of intellectual power, which is, in fact, in its ultimate and most perfect development, the love of infinite Wisdom, or the love of God."

Though Sir Humphry Davy gave but little time to literature, strictly so called, I have here introduced his name, and written this short notice of his life, for the sake of giving some extracts from a work that he published in the spring of 1828, entitled "Salmonia, or Days of Fly Fishing." It is a most interesting book, something after the manner of old Izaak Walton's "Complete Angler," and contains many precious gems of description and reflection. From it I select the following:

THE PLEASURES AND ADVANTAGES OF FISHING.

The search after food is an instinct belonging to our nature; and from the savage in his rudest and most primitive state, who destroys a piece of game or a fish, with a club or spear, to man in the most cultivated state of society, who employs artifice, machinery, and the resources of various other animals, to secure his object, the origin of the pleasure is similar, and its object the same: but that kind of it requiring most art may be said to characterize man in his highest or intellectual state; and the fisher for salmon and trout with the fly employs not only machinery to assist his physical powers, but applies sagacity to conquer difficulties; and the pleasure derived from ingenious resources and devices, as well as from active pursuit, belongs to this amusement. Then as to its philosophical tendency, it is a pursuit of moral discipline, requiring patience, forbearance, and command of temper. As connected with natural science, it may be vaunted as demanding a knowledge of the habits of a considerable tribe of created beings-fishes, and the animals that they prey upon, and an acquaintance with the signs and tokens of the weather and its changes, the nature of waters, and of the atmosphere. As to its poetical relations, it carries us into the most wild and beautiful scenery of nature; among the mountain lakes, and the clear and lovely streams that gush from the higher ranges of elevated hills, or that make their way through the cavities of calcareous strata. How delightful in the carly spring, after the dull and tedious time of winter, when the frosts disappear and the sunshine warms the earth and waters, to wander forth by seme clear stream, to see the leaf bursting from the purple bud, to scent the odors of the bank perfumed by the violet, and enamelled, as it were, with the primrose and the daisy; to wander upon the fresh turf below the shade of trees, whose bright blossoms are filled with

the music of the bee; and on the surface of the waters to view the gaudy flies sparkling like animated gems in the sunbeams, while the bright and beautiful trout is watching them from below; to hear the twittering of the water-birds, who, alarmed at your approach, rapidly hide themselves beneath the flowers and leaves of the waterlily; and as the season advances, to find all these objects changed for others of the same kind, but better and brighter, till the swallow and the trout contend as it were for the gaudy May-fly, and till in pursuing your amusement in the calm and balmy evening, you are serenaded by the songs of the cheerful thrush and melodious nightingale, performing the offices of paternal love, in thickets ornamented with the rose and woodbine.

LIFE COMPARED TO A RIVER.

A full and clear river is, in my opinion, the most poetical object in nature. Pliny has, as well as I recollect, compared a river to human life. I have never read the passage in his works, but I have been a hundred times struck with the analogy, particularly amidst mountain scenery. The river, small and clear in its origin, gushes forth from rocks, falls into deep glens, and wantons and meanders through a wild and picturesque country, nourishing only the uncultivated tree or flower by its dew or spray. In this, its state of infancy and youth, it may be compared to the human mind in which fancy and strength of imagination are predominant-it is more beautiful than useful. When the different rills or torrents join, and descend into the plain, it becomes slow and stately in its motions; it is applied to move machinery, to irrigate meadows, and to bear upon its bosom the stately barge;-in this mature state, it is deep, strong, and useful. As it flows on toward the sea, it loses its force and its motion, and at last, as it were, becomes lost and mingled with the mighty abyss of waters.

THE BLESSINGS OF RELIGIOUS FAITH.

I envy no quality of the mind or intellect in others; not genius, power, wit, or fancy: but if I could choose what would be most delightful, and I believe most useful to me, I should prefer a firm religious belief to every other blessing; for it makes life a discipline of goodness-creates new hopes, when all earthly hopes vanish; and throws over the decay, the destruction of existence, the most gorgeous of all lights; awakens life even in death, and from corruption and decay calls up beauty and divinity: makes an instrument of torture and of shame the ladder of ascent to paradise; and far above all combinations of earthly hopes, calls up the most delightful visions of palms and amaranths, the gardens of the blest,

the security of everlasting joys, where the sensualist and the skeptic view only gloom, decay, annihilation, and despair!

As to his rank as a poet, the praise of Coleridge is decisive:-" Had not Davy been the first chemist, he probably would have been the first poet of his age."

THE TEMPEST.

The tempest has darken'd the face of the skies,

The winds whistle wildly across the waste plain,
The fiends of the whirlwind terrific arise,

And mingle the clouds with the white foaming main.
All dark is the night and all gloomy the shore,
Save when the red lightnings the ether divide;
Then follows the thunder with loud sounding roar,
And echoes in concert the billowy tide.

But though now all is murky and shaded with gloom,
Hope, the soother, soft whispers the tempest shall cease:
Then nature again in her beauty shall bloom,

And enamor'd embrace the fair, sweet-smiling peace.
For the bright blushing morning, all rosy with light,
Shall convey on her wings the creator of day;
He shall drive all the tempests and terrors of night,
And nature, enliven'd, again shall be gay.
Then the warblers of Spring shall attune the soft lay,
And again the bright floweret shall blush in the vale;
On the breast of the ocean the zephyr shall play,
And the sunbeam shall sleep on the hill and the dale.
If the tempests of nature so soon sink to rest;

If her once faded beauties so soon glow again;
Shall man be for ever by tempests oppress'd-
By the tempests of passion, of sorrow, and pain?
Ah, no! for his passions and sorrows shall cease,
When the troublesome fever of life shall be o'er:
In the night of the grave he shall slumber in peace,
And passion and sorrow shall vex him no more.
And shall not this night, and its long dismal gloom,
Like the night of the tempest again pass away?
Yes! the dust of the earth in bright beauty shall bloom,
And rise to the morning of heavenly day.

MONT BLANC.

With joy I view thee, bathed in purple light,

While all around is dark; with joy I see

Thee rising from thy sea of pitchy clouds

Into the middle heaven,

As if a temple to the Eternal raised

By all the earth, framed of the pillar'd rock,

And canopied with everlasting snow!

That lovely river, rolling at my feet

Its bright green waves, and winding midst the rocks,
Brown in their winter's foliage, gain'd from thee

Its flood of waters; through a devious course,

Though it has laved the fertile plains, and wash'd
The cities' walls, and mingled with the streams
Of lowland origin, yet still preserves

Its native character of mountain strength,

Its color, and its motion. Such are those

Among the generations of mankind

To whom the stream of thought descends from heaven;

With all the force of reason and the power

Of sacred genius. Through the world they pass

Still uncorrupted, and on what they take

From social life bestow a character

Of dignity. Greater they become,
But never lose their native purity.

WILLIAM HAZLITT, 1778-1830.

WILLIAM HAZLITT, a distinguished critic and miscellaneous writer, was the son of a Unitarian clergyman of Shropshire, and was born on the 10th of April, 1778. After having received his academical education at the college in Hackney, in Middlesex, he commenced life as a painter, and by this means he gained an accurate knowledge of the principles of the arts. He, however, soon left the pencil for the pen, and, instead of painting pictures, it became his delight to criticise them. After having made various contributions to the periodical journals, he published an essay on the "Principles of Human Action," a work in which he displayed considerable ingenuity and acuteness. This was followed, in 1808, by two volumes in octavo, under the title of "The Eloquence of the British Senate," a selection of the best parliamentary speeches since the time of Charles I., with notes.

In 1810, appeared his "New and Improved English Grammar, for the use of Schools," in which the discoveries of Mr. Horne Tooke, and other modern writers on the formation of language, are incorporated. In 1817, was published "The Round Table," a collection of Essays on Men, Literature, and Manners, which had previously appeared in the periodical called "The Examiner." These were subsequently succeeded by his "Characters of Shakspeare's Plays," a "View of the English Stage," and "Lectures on English Poetry," which he delivered at the Surrey Institution. After this appeared, from time to time, his contributions to various periodicals, under the titles of "Table Talk," the "Spirit of the Age," the "Plain Speaker," and the "Literature of the Elizabethan Age." His largest and most elaborate work is his "Life of Napoleon," in four volumes, which appeared in 1828: a production which has raised him to a very high rank among the philosophers and historians of the present age. Mr. Hazlitt also contributed many articles to the "Edinburgh Review," some of which possess extraordinary merit. He continued to write and publish till the year of his death, which took place on the 18th of September, 1830.

The writings of Mr. Hazlitt display much originality and genius, united with great critical acuteness and brilliancy of fancy. In the fine arts, the drama, and

dramatic literature, he was considered one of the ablest critics of the day. His essays are full of wisdom, and it is almost impossible to rise from a perusal of them without having gained some original and striking ideas, and most valuable thoughts. His "Characters of Shakspeare's Plays," and his Lectures on the Dramatic Literature of the Age of Elizabeth," are among the most interesting and instructive books in English literature. His admiration for the writers of that period was intense, and he descants upon their beauties with the most eloquent and joyous enthusiasm. An able and discriminating writer thus speaks of him: "His mind resembles the rich strande' which Spenser has so nobly described, and to which he has himself likened the age of Elizabeth, where treasures of every description lie, without order, in inexhaustible profusion. Noble masses of exquisite marble are there, which might be fashioned to support a glorious temple; and gems of peerless lustre, which would adorn the holiest shrine. He has no lack of the deepest feeling, the profoundest sentiments of humanity, or the loftiest aspirations after ideal good. But there are no great leading principles of taste to give singleness to his aims, nor any central points in his mind, around which his feelings may revolve and his imaginations cluster." Allowing this to be truc, there yet remains enough to constitute him one of the most tasteful, discriminating, and genial critics in the English language.2

THE LITERATURE OF THE AGE OF ELIZABÈTH.

The age of Elizabeth was distinguished beyond, perhaps, any other in our history, by a number of great men, famous in different ways, and whose names have come down to us with unblemished honors-statesmen, warriors, divines, scholars, poets, and philosophers: Raleigh, Drake, Coke, Hooker, and higher and more sounding still, and still more frequent in our mouths, Shakspeare, Spenser, Sidney, Bacon, Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher-men whom fame has eternized in her long and lasting scroll, and who, by their words and acts, were benefactors of their country, and ornaments of human nature. Their attainments of different kinds bore the same general stamp, and it was sterling: what they did had the mark of their age and country upon it. Perhaps the genius of Great Britain (if I may so speak without offence or flattery) never shone out fuller or brighter, or looked more like itself, than at this period.

The first cause I shall mention, as contributing to this general effect, was the Reformation, which had just then taken place. This event gave a mighty impulse and increased activity to thought and inquiry, and agitated the inert mass of accumulated prejudices throughout Europe. The effect of the concussion was general;

"Edinburgh Review," xxxiv. 440.

Read Literary Remains of Mr. Hazlitt," &c., by E. L. Bulwer, 2 vols.; also articles upon his various works, in the "Edinburgh Review," xxviii. 72, and Ixiv. 395; and in the "London Quarterly," xvii. 174, xix. 424, and xxvi. 103; also, “American Quarterly," xx. 265.