The Beauty of Holiness and other Poems, by George B. Scott. Darton and Harvey, foolscap 8vo. p. 157.

The object of the chief poem of this little volume is to illustrate the progress of the Christian Sabbath, or rather the feelings which actuate an individual of religious principle during the several portions of the holy day. Its author is evidently a man who has long enjoyed an acquaintance with spiritual things, and his views are proportionably true and beautiful, though we are compelled to say that he has not done himself justice in his present publication, or attained nearly to that degree of completeness in the poetical art to which he is intellectually competent. Occasional inappropriateness of expression strikes the eye, and here and there obscurity mars the thought, but upon the whole these are trifling blemishes when compared with the real excellence of the book. It is calculated to be of considerable service, and is well worthy the notice of those who have any moral or mental association with subjects, that after the vanity of the world and the emptiness of sense have been gone through and appreciated, will alone be found to confer even the semblance of lasting happiness. The shorter poems and sonnets have much of sweet conception about them, and are pleasingly versified, and were it not for the little defects we have noticed above, would take a high stand among the lyrics of the day. The selection of the subjects evinces much elegance of mind. The following lines on the death of a friend who suddenly changed time for eternity are particularly worthy of notice, and evince a depth of pathos creditable to the writer and in keeping with his subject.

THE beams of the sun in the western sky,

With the beauties of earth are blending ; But a gust from the east sends its hollow sigh 'Mong the flakes of white snow descending;

And loud on the breeze the cathedral bell,
Sounds the hour of the evening-seven !-
Oh! listen my soul, 'tis the funeral knell
Of a spirit departing to Heaven!

He went forth alone! But no visions of death
Rack'd his brain-or the throbbings of sorrow :-
He felt not the tomb's devouring breath,

Nor thought of the woe of to-morrow;

Till suddenly called from his kindred dear-
Though none in that moment bent o'er him-
'Twas then, he beheld the last enemy near,
And eternity all before him!

O still was that hour, and known but to few
That a mortal this land was leaving;
Swift-swiftly from all its frail pleasures he flew,
From bosoms in bitterness grieving;

For long had he lived with the wife of his youth;
While their children, mingling around them,
Had crown'd with the hues of affection and truth,
The ties that had hitherto bound them.

How sweet then those bonds, and if upwards they soar,
For a home that hath glories and splendour;
How blissful to know they are broken no more!
Though here, they are fleeting and tender :-
Loud-loud on the breeze the cathedral bell,
Sounds the hour of the evening-seven!-
Oh listen my soul, 'tis the funeral knell
Of a spirit departing to Heaven!

He wenth forth alone! from his home and his joys,
Yet still a kind guardian was near him;

And though he heard not an inviting voice,

In the dark dreary way to cheer him,

Yet, there was the hand, that unfelt and unseen,
Could guide him o'er Jordan's dread billow ;-

And there was a power, that could brighten the scene,
And soften his lonely pillow!

'Twas HE who is mighty, and willing to save
Our weak souls from utterly falling-
To snatch from the brink of the yawning grave
All who on his mercy are calling!

Then let us live ever abiding on God,

Who's near, while black tempests are sweeping
Us on to the goal which our forefathers trod,
To the place where they are all sleeping!

In triumph we'll welcome our deadliest foe,

Though our days should be speedily number'd;
And then, when the archangel's trumpet shall blow,
Awake, from the bed where we've slumber'd !—
But-loud on the breeze the cathedral bell,
Sounds the hour of the evening-seven!-
Oh! listen my soul, 'tis the funeral knell
Of a spirit departing to Heaven !

The book is very prettily got up, and will we trust, be a source of much gratification to many of our readers.

The following may be placed in apposition with the lines by Miss Barrett on the same subject, cited in a previous portion of our pages, and will not suffer from contrast with the production of that clever anthoress.

While o'er her royal brow a star
Shone like the beam of hope from far,
Around we stood with joyful gaze,
To mark that star's refulgent blaze;
And with the moments rich in thought,
Saw what a sovereign's death had brought:
When-meeting greatness with surprise,-
Warm tears bedew'd her beauteous eyes:-
She wept to wear a Crown!

No rays which gild this lower sky,
No breeze that wafts its fragrance by,
No lovely flower from Nature's hand,
No ancient temple of our land,
No gem which decks a diadem-
Not e'en the frosted ocean's hem-

E'er swayed our senses with such power,
As when in that remember'd hour,

She wept to wear a Crown!

Go, queen of England's favour'd isle!
Let nations bow beneath thy smile-
And they, the needy on our shore-
Bask in the riches of thy store;

Then shall thy throne established be,
Within the hearts of bond and free;
And he who once a captive lay,
To tell thy mercy, thus shall say,

"She wept to wear a Crown!"

And when from earth thy happy wings,
Shall spread to dwell with heavenly things;
When all the splendours now thine own
Are with their seeming glories flown,
VICTORIA'S name on high shall roll,
And cheer the Briton's drooping soul:
Like seraph's tones of joy shall rise
These words, 'till echoes reach the skies,
"She wept to wear a Crown!"

The Experimental Philosopher, by W. Mullingar Higgins, author of the "Earth," &c. and formerly Lecturer on Experimental Philosophy at Guy's Hospital, and Honorary Member of several Institutions. London, Whittaker and Co. foolscap 8vo. pp. 488.

The object of this work is to convey a general knowledge of its subject. Its author has treated the matter under his hand in such a way as being divested of technicality cannot but render it familiar to an uprofessional reader. His writings are at all times clear, forcible, and to the point. For many years Mr. Higgins has been well known as a lecturer on Natural Philosophy, and though by profession an architect, few men have been more successful as teachers. At the early age of twentyfive he occupied the chair of lecturer on this his favourite subject, at Guy's Hospital, and since then his several works have been gradually bringing him an accumulation of fame, and, we hope, of profit. His present work is one much required, and he has very efficiently supplied the desideratum. He has divided the subject into its several great heads of heat, electricity, pneumatics, hydrostatics,

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&c., giving with each, in the first place, a clear explanation of the title and exposition of that portion of science, and has then generally improved his deductions by illustrations. His opening is especially perspicuous, and comprises a very well digested statement of science in general; he says—

Man, in every period of his existence, and in every state of society, receives his sensations from external phenomena. Inanimate as well as animated objects are constantly presenting appearances which have a mysterious influence on the sentient powers of man. The majority of mankind receive the impressions produced by these phenomena, without inquiring into the agency by which they are regulated; it is the business of the natural philosopher to ascertain the nature and influence of their causes.

Ultimate causes are beyond our powers of analysis; we may approximate to a knowledge of them, but we cannot ascertain their nature, or the actual extent of their influence. Nearly all the appearances in nature may be resolved into the production of motion; and we are capable of ascertaining its laws, but cannot discover its origin. We may, indeed, resolve all causes into the will of a self-existent, eternal, Being; but there is a link between the will of this Being and the laws of Nature, which our researches fail to supply.

If we examine, on the other hand, the influence of these appearances on ourselves, we are led to the same result. The sun shines, and it occasions in us sensations which are called light and heat. Now the action of a solar ray may be traced from one effect to another, until we have ascertained that it impinges upon a small fibre of the eye, called the optic nerve. By this nerve an effect is carried to the brain, and a sensation is produced; but we can neither determine how the nerve can conduct an impression to the brain, or how the brain can act upon those parts of the human frame which are the seats of sensation.

The following extract is one of the illustrations adduced by Mr. Higgins on hydrostatics, and will well explain to our readers in what way science is made applicable to the purposes of life. Exclusive of its interest as a scientific argument, it will, we trust, afford an interesting account of a very singular and important concern. To