In some of his sketches, which relate to the King's Bench prison, the unknown author before us reminds us of the vigour and truth of detail, so conspicuous in many of Crabbe's performances; and, although both the objects and the materials of the writers are very different, we have been occasionally struck with the resemblance of their powers of description. The scenes of a prison will present to different minds very different subjects of contemplation, and may be expected to awaken in them very opposite emotions. The varied misery exhibited—the aspect of worldly hopes for ever crushed-of the dearest ties rudely shattered by misfortune-of projects, whether selfish or generous, hastily marred-of vanity rebuked, or vice chastised;-together with the various impressions which the sudden descent into a receptacle of shame and privation makes upon different minds;-some rising by mere force of character above their fate, others seeking to drown reflection in all the low sensuality which is accessible;-others again pouring forth their wounded spirits in exasperation and defiance ;-And, added to all this, the gloomy and constraining economy of the place-the rude memorials of former sufferings, which have been left by the preceding races of its unhappy inmates-the intolerable sense of coercion as it maddens the yet unaccustomed captive, or sits in settled melancholy on the brow of the more ancient tenant :-These, and a thousand other elements of sadness and reflection, present themselves to the mind, and require only the aid of imagination to be wrought into affecting poetry. But another view may be taken of this crowded scene, and the numerous and impenitent victims of folly and vice which it presents, who even while smarting under the visitation which their profligacy has brought upon them, seek with eagerness the means of its continued indulgence, may infuse, as the prevailing idea, that of vice at once despicable and irreclaimable, and appear to realize that pandemonium of pigmy atrocity which the moral satirist will love to visit with all the lightnings of his scorn. Such is the view which the present author seems to have been chiefly inclined to take of his subject, although there are many passages interspersed which bear a different and a more amiable character.

Of this class is the following, which touches upon the sad reminiscences and contrasts suggested to the unhappy prisoner, by circumstances apparently the most minute and unimportant. "For, how intolerable to the soul

Past scenes of bliss upon the memory roll,
When 'mid a prison's horrid gloom they come
To one that e'er has loved the heaven of home!
Home! comprehensive word! whose letters span
All that can interest the heart of man;

All varying outline, that each mortal's will,
With colour, light, and shade, his own may fill;
Sound, populous of thought, that each employs
To give the scene of his peculiar joys!

What forms, what sounds, in that one magic word,
In simultaneous throngs are seen and heard!

O, my own home! how sweetly dost thou rise,
How sadly, too, upon my mind's fond eyes!
Thy fresh and verdant slopes, thy waters, flowers,
And the cool umbrage of thy beechen bowers,
Crowd on my soul; and with them all the train
Of long-past joys, that sharpen present pain.
And, oh what faces 'mid those scenes appear!
What well-known voices seem to thrill mine ear!

How slight a spark of thought will fire the train,
Whose swift explosion shakes and sears the brain!
Sometimes a rose, that, in the window placed,
Proclaims our love of nature uneffaced,
Tells of some paradise in which we roved,
In happy hours, with those we fondly loved;
From this you turn; lo, fix'd upon the wall
Some sketch of mountain-range, or waterfall,
Some lovely landscape, traced when at our side
One dear as life our pencil's progress eyed.
To books you fly; but O beware what page
You choose the memory's torture to assuage;
Some passages for ever in the mind

With persons and with places are entwined;
Nay more, some books, unopen'd as they lie,
Tell where they stood in happier days gone by,
And e'en suggest the voice whose suasive power
Bade close your study ere the wonted hour.

And, O thou beauteous orb whose silver light
Makes garish day less beautiful than night!
How does thy beam, upon the window thrown,
Tell of the happiest moments we have known,
Of hopes how long, how confidently fed!

Now wither'd, wasted, and for ever dead."-Pp. 7—11.

The following sketch of the inmates of the prison, and the moral influences of its atmosphere, is spirited and just.

"Now let us analyse, but not too loud,

If wise, the composition of this crowd,
Made up from native soil and foreign clime,
Of waste, of folly, accident, and crime.

Here join the speculator and the fool,

Grey-beards, and youngsters rather fit for school,

(At least for any school but this alone,

Where college vices in the shade are thrown,)

Of pugilists, of haberdashers, jugglers,

Horse-jockies, swindlers, Bond-Street beaux, and smugglers;

By hollow friendship some in prison thrown,

By other's follies some, more by their own.

There stalks a quondam senator in state,
And still looks wise, and full of the debate,
A lexicographer, whose worth once known,
Down tumbles Johnson from his ill-earned throne;
Here finish'd tailors, never to be paid,

Turn eyes on many a coat themselves have made;
And bailiffs, caught by their own arts at last,
Meet those their capias yesterday made fast.
There walks a youth whose father, for reform,
Has shut him up where countless vices swarm.
But little is that parent skill'd to trace
The springs of action,-little knows the place,
Who sends an ailing mind to where disease
Its inmost citadel of health may seize.
Faint are the calls of decency, when broad
And naked vice can show her front unawed;
Where thrives whate'er the vilest of our kind,
Can teach to brutify, and sink the mind,
Where weary reason fails her watch to keep,
And the tired conscience finds a troubled sleep;
Where every check and barrier is remov'd,
Of countenances fear'd, and bosoms lov'd,
Where bold and bad examples lead the way,
And, every hour, facilities betray;

Where feverish impatience fires the blood
Distemper'd by the madding neighbourhood;
Where hope of some short joy the sanguine draws,
And vanity is fed by bad applause,

The brute his wonted offal seeks, the fool

Falls, with his weight, or push'd by ridicule.”—

"See yon pale wretch,-observe his vacant stare,
His lustre lacking eye, and matted hair ;

His squalid hands, his soil'd and tatter'd dress-
Symbols, at once, of want and low excess;
Two months ago he was an airy thing,
Light, crisp, and elegant, and free of wing,
Graceful in manners, stylish in attire,
In converse full of wit, of zest, and fire.
Soon sank his spirits, faded every grace,
Before the withering influence of the place:
Not of that order of high minds was he,
Whose efforts rise with growing misery :
From wine he sought false courage, and the glow
That gave a hollow respite to his woe.

Soon larger draughts were needful in the sleep
That kills all memory, each sense to steep,

Then vile potations of pernicious trash

Were swallowed, reason from his brain to wash;

Behold him now, confirmed the perfect sot

That knows no heaven beyond a porter pot. Pp. 47–52.

We can only afford room for another extract, as a specimen of the author's spirit and talent. Lawless, an unhappy man of fashion, who had fallen a victim to the remorseless rigour of the

law, and had his station assigned him in the prison, obtains a Day-rule, and sallies forth with this talisman of protection. He is met by Fang the bailiff, and his assistant Snare, who have a writ against him, and upon whom-carefully concealing from them the protection which he holds-he executes the whimsical piece of revenge which is recounted in the following passage. The bailiff thus accosts him:

"Captain, a pleasant day, the catchpole cried,
And I am fortunate to meet you here.
Perhaps you'd better step with me aside,
The passers by our business need not hear.
I'll do the thing genteelly, do not fear;
I've got a writ against you here; that's all;
'Tis lucky that the coach-stand is so near.
Snare, run across the way, a chariot call;
Or-stay-a coach will better hold us all.'
Said Lawless, My good fellow, why such haste?
Brunet's is near: before we go I'd fain
Show what French cooking is, and let you taste
The Burgundy and excellent Champagne.
If you'll but dine with me I'll not complain;
I know your business for the day is ended,
So here you may an hour with me remain.
Come, we'll enjoy ourselves as never men did;
If you deny me, I shall be offended.

My little Snare here seems a pleasant fellow :
I like his countenance: if you permit,
For once the man may with the master sit:
He'll furnish us with matter for our wit;
I know how proper due subordination ;

Yet see no reason why a merry fit

May not, without disgrace to your vocation,
Friend Snare with you and me at table station.
As Lawless parley'd thus, his pocket-book,
As if without a purpose, he display'd,

From which what seem'd a roll of notes he took,
And to his pocket carelessly convey'd :
The sight on Fang a quick impression made,
Already yielding to the promised wine;

Nor of escape or trick was he afraid,
Since Snare at table if allowed to dine,
Would make less practicable all design.
"Captain," he cried, "I'm sure I always try
Business to do in the genteelest way;

If dining at Brunet's will gratify

A wish of your's, I'll e'en consent to stay;
Yet 'tis not regular, I needs must say.

But let me ask one question ere we in go:
What must I do? my meaning how convey?

They nothing speak but French here; and by Jingo
I do not know one word of foreign lingo."

"A very proper question," Lawless cried,
"And one that shows you are a man of sense;
Faith, you must do as others, who can hide
Their want of learning with their impudence
Affect an easy careless negligence;

If aught should puzzle you, pray look at me,
And when surprised by any exigence,
A nod or movement of my eye you see,
("Tis all the French you need) exclaim Oui, oui."
The bailiff being briefly thus instructed,

Who promised to observe his orders well,
His new companions Lawless now conducted
Up the three steps that front Brunet's Hotel.
Fang, arm in arm with Lawless, with a swell
Moved boldly forward; Snare brought up the rear;
"And, though from Jaunay's kitchen the rich smell
Regaled him with the promise of good cheer,
Felt his new situation somewhat queer.

Lawless was known; so when the coffee-room
He entered, all the waiters stared to see
Him so attended; yet did none presume
To laugh, or shrug; and stared the company
There dining, as the oddly sorted three
One of the largest tables occupied ;

And some suspected how the case might be ;
This Lawless saw; and willing to decide
All doubts at once, he to the waiter cried,
Eh Garcon! vite! la carte à Monsieur Snare;
Et faites venir ici Monsieur Jaunay.

(Fang, choose our dinner-here's the bill of fare,)
Ecoutez, Jaunay, vous me connoissez,
Ce sont des sergents, qui m'ont arreté,
Mais sans aucun droit de me detenir,

Faites les payer—je serai donc, vengé.

A leur dépens je veux me divertir.

N'est ce pas juste, eh Fang?"-" Oui, Oui, Mounseçr." A bow, a smile, from Jaunay, and a look

Most knowing, answer gave, and testified

That well the spirit of the plot he took;

The parties dining smoked the jest, and eyed
The awkward Fang, who turn'd on ev'ry side

The unintelligible bill of fare,

And, loth to own his ignorance, still pryed On every column with a studied stare,

As if he knew one item printed there.

Yes, one,-mock-turtle,-'mid the soups he knew,
But o'er its unknown neighbour printanière,

His eye, as o'er a Greek inscription, flew:
Among the fish he flounder'd in despair;
Truite, cabillaud, and anguille, made him stare;
Nor beef nor veal he found in bœuf or veau:
He groan'd o'er voles a vent with financière,
Or Bechamelle, and all the pastry row,

Pâtées aux huitres, ou Rognons de veau.-Pp. 95-10%.