Other topics of interest are also discussed with the like ingenuity.

After this episode, it is time for us to return to our travellers, whose feelings, the moment they touched the ground, repayed them for all they had endured. Atterley looked around with the most intense curiosity; but nothing he saw, "surprised him so much, as to find so little that was surprising:"—vegetation, insects, and other animals, were pretty much of the same character as those he had before seen; but, on better acquaintance, he found the difference greater than he had at first supposed. Having refreshed themselves with the remains of their stores, and secured the door of the machine, they bent their course to the town of Alamatua, about three miles distant, which seemed to contain about two thousand houses, and to be not quite as large as Albany; the people were tall and thin, and of a pale, yellowish complexion; their garments light, loose, and flowing, and not very different from those of the Turks; they subsist chiefly on a vegetable diet, live about as long as we do on the earth, notwithstanding the great difference of climate, and other circumstances; and do not, in their manners, habits, or character, differ more from the inhabitants of this globe, than some of the latter do from one another; their government, anciently monarchical, is now popular; their code of laws very intricate; their language, naturally soft and musical, has been yet further refined by the cultivation of letters; and they have a variety of sects in religion, politics, and philosophy.

The lunarians do not, as Butler has it—

"When the sun shines hot at noon, Inhabit cellars under ground, Of eight miles deep and eighty round."

But, one half of their houses is beneath the surface, partly for the purpose of screening them from the continued action of the sun's rays, and partly on account of the earthquakes caused by volcanoes. The windows of the houses consisted of openings in the wall, sloping so much upwards, that, whilst they freely admitted the light and air, the sun was completely excluded. As soon as they were espied by the natives, great curiosity was of course excited; not, however, to so troublesome an extent, as might have been, from the circumstance of the Brahmin's having visited the moon before. Hence he was soon recognised by some of his acquaintances, and conducted to the house of the governor, by whom they were graciously received, and who "began a course of interesting inquiries regarding the affairs of the earth;" but a gentleman, whom they afterwards understood to be one of the leaders of the popular party, coming in, he soon despatched them; having, however, first directed an officer to furnish them with all that was necessary for their accommodation, at the public expense; "which act of hospitality, they had reason to fear, occasioned him some trouble and perplexity at the succeeding election."

A more minute description follows, of the dress of the male and female lunarians, especially of that of the latter, to which we can merely refer the reader. There is one portion, however, of the inhabitants, with whom the reader must be made acquainted, inasmuch as they form some of the author's most prominent characters. A large number of lunarians, it seems, are born without any intellectual vigour, and wander about like so many automatons, under the care of the government, until illumined by the mental ray, from some terrestrial brain, through the mysterious influence which the moon is known to exercise on our planet. But, in this case, the inhabitant of the earth loses what he of the moon gains, the ordinary portion of understanding being divided between two; and, "as might be expected, there is a most exact conformity between the man of the earth, and his counterpart in the moon, in all their principles of action, and modes of thinking:"—

"These Glonglims, as they are called, after they have been thus imbued with intellect, are held in peculiar respect by the vulgar, and are thought to be in every way superior to those whose understandings are entire. The laws by which two objects, so far apart, operate on each other, have been, as yet, but imperfectly developed, and the wilder their freaks, the more they are the objects of wonder and admiration."

"Now and then, though very rarely, the man of the earth regains the intellect he has lost; in which case, his lunar counterpart returns to his former state of imbecility. Both parties are entirely unconscious of the change—one, of what he has lost, and the other, of what he has gained."[7]

The belief of the influence of the moon on the human intellect, the Brahmin remarks, may be perceived in the opinions of the vulgar, and in many of the ordinary forms of expression; and he takes occasion to remark, that these very opinions, as well as some obscure hints in the Sanscrit, give countenance to the idea, that they were not the only voyagers to the moon; but that, on the contrary, the voyage had been performed in remote antiquity; and the Lunarians, we are told, have a similar tradition. Many ordinary forms of expression are adduced in support of these ideas.

"Thus," says the Brahmin, "it is generally believed, throughout all Asia, that the moon has an influence on the brain: and when a man is of insane mind, we call him a lunatic. One of the curses of the common people is, 'May the moon eat up your brains!' and in China, they say of a man who has done any act of egregious folly, 'He was gathering wool in the moon.'" I was struck with these remarks; and told the hermit that the language of Europe afforded the same indirect evidence of the fact he mentioned,—that my own language, especially, abounded with expressions which could be explained on no other hypothesis: for, besides the terms "lunacy," "lunatic," and the supposed influence of the moon on the brain, when we see symptoms of a disordered intellect, we say the mind wanders, which evidently alludes to a part of it rambling to a distant region, as is the moon. We say too, a man is "out of his head," that is, his mind being in another man's head, must of course be out of his own. To "know no more than the man in the moon," is a proverbial expression for ignorance, and is without meaning, unless it be considered to refer to the Glonglims.[8]

"We say that an insane man is 'distracted,' by which we mean that his mind is drawn two different ways. So also, we call a lunatic a man beside himself, which most distinctly expresses the two distinct bodies his mind now animates. There are, moreover, many other analogous expressions, as 'moonstruck,' 'deranged,' 'extravagant,' and some others, which, altogether, form a mass of concurring testimony that it is impossible to resist."

Leaving this ingenious badinage with the defence of the serious and sentimental Schiller,

"Hoher Sinn liegt oft in Kindischen Spiele,"

we return to our travellers, who, at their lodgings, meet with an instance of lunar puritanism—the family eating those portions of fruits, vegetables, &c., which are thrown away by us, and vice versa, "from a persuasion that all pleasure received through the senses is sinful, and that man never appears so acceptable in the sight of the Deity, as when he rejects all the delicacies of the palate, as well as other sensual gratifications, and imposes on himself that food to which he feels naturally most repugnant."

Avarice is satirized by the story of one of these Glonglims, who is occupied in making nails, and then dropping them into a well—refusing to exchange them for bread or clothes, notwithstanding his starved, haggard appearance, and evident desire for the food proffered:—

"Mettant toute sa gloire et son souverain bien A grossir un tresor qui ne lui sert de rien."

And this is followed by a picture of reckless prodigality in another Glonglim.

We pass over the description of the physical peculiarities of the moon, which seem to be according to the received opinions of astronomers, as well as the satire on National Prejudices, in the persons of the Hilliboos and Moriboos, and that on the Godwinian system of morals.

An indisposition experienced by Atterley, occasions his introduction to Vindar,[9] a celebrated physician, botanist, &c., on whose opinions we have a keen satire.

On leaving Vindar's house, they observed a short man, (Napoleon,) preparing to climb to the top of a plane tree, on which there was one of the tail feathers of a flamingo; and this he would only mount in one way—on the shoulders of his men:—

"I could not see this rash Glonglim attempt to climb that dangerous ladder, without feeling alarm for his safety. At first all seemed to go on very well; but just as he was about to lay hold of the gaudy prize, there arose a sudden squall, which threw both him and his supporters into confusion, and the whole living pyramid came to the ground together. Many were killed—some were wounded and bruised. Polenap himself, by lighting on his men, who served him as cushions, barely escaped with life. But he received a fracture in the upper part of his head, and a dislocation of the hip, which will not only prevent him from ever climbing again, but probably make him a cripple for life.

"The Brahmin and I endeavoured to give the sufferers some assistance; but this was rendered unnecessary, by the crowd which their cries and lamentations brought to their relief. I thought that the author of so much mischief would have been stoned on the spot; but, to my surprise, his servants seemed to feel as much for his honour as their own safety, and warmly interfered in his behalf, until they had somewhat appeased the rage of the surrounding multitude."

The absurdities of the physiognomical system of Lavater, and of the craniological system of MM. Gall and Spurzheim, were not likely to escape animadversion, in a work of general satire, fruitful as they have already been in such themes. The representative of the former, is a fortune-telling philosopher, Avarabet, (Lavater,) whose course of proceeding was, to examine the finger nails, and, according to their form, colour, thickness, surface, grain, and other properties, to determine the character and destinies of those who consulted him; and that of the latter, a physician, who judged of the character of disposition or disease, by the examination of a lock of the hair. The upshot of the story is, as might be anticipated, that the fortune-telling philosopher is caught, and exposed in his own toils.

The impolicy of privateers, and of letters of marque and reprisals, is next animadverted on, by the story of two neighbours, who are at variance, and whose dependants are occupied in laying hold of what they can of each other's flocks and herds, and doing as much mischief as possible, by which both parties, of necessity, suffer.

A visit to a projector in building, husbandry, and cookery, introduces us to some inventions not unworthy of the occupation, of the courtiers of La Reine Quinte, or of the Professors of the Academy of Lagado.

The doctrine of the aerial formation of meteoric stones, receives, too, a passing notice from our author, who is clearly no supporter of it. It was a long time before the ancients received credit for their stories of showers of stones; and all were ready to joke with Butler, at the story of the Thracian rock, which fell in the river Aegos:—

"For Anaxagoras, long agon, Saw hills, as well as you i'th' moon, And held the sun was but a piece Of red hot iron as big as Greece. Believ'd the heavens were made of stone, Because the sun had voided one: And, rather than he would recant Th' opinion, suffered banishment."

A difficulty surrounds the subject, however we view it. Aerolites, as they have been designated, have now been found in almost every region and climate of the globe—from Arabia to the farthest point of Baffin's Bay; and this very circumstance would seem to be opposed to their aerial origin, unless we are to suppose that they can be formed in every state, and in the opposite extremes of the atmosphere. The Brahmin assigns them a lunar origin, and adds, "our party were greatly amused at the disputations of a learned society in Europe, in which they undertook to give a mathematical demonstration, that they could not be thrown from a volcano of the earth, nor from the moon, but were suddenly formed in the atmosphere. I should as soon believe, that a loaf of bread could be made and baked in the atmosphere."

The "gentleman farmer and projector," being attacked, during their visit, with cholera morbus, and considering himself in extremis, a consultation of physicians takes place, in which one portrait will be obvious—that of Dr. Shuro, who asserts disease to be a unit; and that it is the extreme of folly, to divide diseases into classes, which tend but to produce confusion of ideas, and an unscientific practice. The enthusiasm of the justly celebrated individual—the original of this portrait, was so great, that the slightest data were sufficient for the formation of some of his most elaborate hypotheses—for theories they could not properly be called; and, accordingly, many of his beautiful and ingenious superstructures are now prostrated, leaving, in open day, the insufficiency of their foundation. One of the most striking examples of this nature, was his belief that the black colour of the negro is a disease, which depletion, properly exercised, might be capable of remedying—a scheme not a whit more feasible, than that of the courtiers of La Reine Quinte, referred to by Rabelais, "who made blackamoors white, as fast as hops, by just rubbing their stomachs with the bottom of a pannier."

The satire here is not so fortunately displayed, as in other instances, owing probably to the difficulty of saying any thing new on so hackneyed a subject; for it has ever happened, that,—

"The Galenist and Paracelsian, Condemn the way each other deals in."

The affair concludes, by the Doctors quarrelling; and, in the mean time, the patient, profiting by some simple remedies administered by the Brahmin, and an hour's rest, was so much refreshed, that he considered himself out of danger, and had no need of medical assistance.

Pestolozzi's system of education, is with justice satirized; since, instead of affording facilities to the student, as the superficial observer might fancy, it retards his acquisition of knowledge, by teaching him to exercise his external senses, rather than his reflection.[10]

In a menagerie attached to an academy, in which youths of maturer years were instructed in the fine arts, the travellers had an opportunity of observing the vain attempts of education, to control the natural or instinctive propensities.

"Naturam expellas furca tamen usque recurret."

"For nature driven out, with proud disdain, All powerful goddess, will return again."

The election of a town constable, exhibits the violence of Lunar Politics to be much the same as the terrestrial, and seems to have some allusion to an existing and important controversy amongst ourselves. The prostitution of the press is satirized by the story of a number of boys dressed in black and white—wearing the badges of the party to which they respectively belong, and each provided with a syringe and two canteens, the one filled with rose water, and the other with a black, offensive, fluid: the rose water being squirted at the favourite candidates and voters—the other fluid on the opposite party. All these were under regular discipline, and at the word of command discharged their syringes on friend or foe, as the case might be.

The "glorious uncertainty of the law" (proverbial with us,) falls also under notice. In Morosofia, it seems, a favourite mode of settling private disputes, whether concerning person, character, or property, is by the employment of prize fighters who hire themselves to the litigants:—

"And out of foreign controversies By aiding both sides, fill their purses: But have no int'rest in the cause For which th' engage and wage the laws Nor farther prospect than their pay Whether they lose or win the day."

The chapter concludes with a discussion between an old man and his wife, in which the policy of encouraging manufactures, is argued.

In an account of Okalbia—a happy valley—similar only in name to that in Rasselas, the author seems to sketch his views of a perfect commonwealth, and glances at some important questions of politics and political economy. Prudential restraints are considered sufficient to obviate a redundancy of population—and on Ricardo's theory of rent, the author holds the same opinions as those already expressed in this Journal.

Some useful hints are also afforded on the subject of legislation and jurisprudence.

After having passed a week amongst the singular and happy Okalbians, whom our travellers found equally amiable, intelligent, and hospitable, they returned to Alamatua.

Jeffery's theory of beauty, as developed in the article beauty, of the supplement to the Encyclopaedia Britannica, in which he denies the existence of original beauty and refers it to association, is ridiculed by an extension of a similar kind of reasoning to the smell.

A description of a Lunar fair follows, which, like a terrestrial, is the resort of the busy, the idle, the knavish, and the gay: some in pursuit of pleasure; others again, without any settled purpose, carried along by the vague desire of meeting with something to relieve them from the pain of idleness. Political contests are here represented under the character of gambling transactions, and if we mistake not, there is a distinct allusion to more than one important contest in the annals of this country.

Having now satisfied his curiosity, Atterley became anxious to return to his native planet, and accordingly urged the Brahmin to lose no time in preparing for their departure. They were soon, however, informed that a man high in office, by way of affecting political sagacity, had proposed to detain them, on the ground that when such voyages as their's were shown to be practicable, the inhabitants of the earth, who were so much more numerous than those of the moon, might invade the latter with a large army, for the purpose of rapine and contest; but notwithstanding the influence of this sapient politician, they finally obtained leave to quit the moon whenever they thought proper.

Having taken a "respectful or affectionate" leave of all their lunarian friends, and got every thing in readiness,—at midnight of the twentieth of August, they again entered their copper balloon, and after they had ascended until the face of the moon looked like one vast lake of melted silver, with here and there small pieces of grayish dross floating on it, Atterley reminded the Brahmin of a former promise to detail the history of his early life, to which he assented:—of this, perhaps the most interesting part of the book, to the general reader, we regret that our limits will only admit of our giving a very condensed and imperfect narrative.

Gurameer, the Brahmin, was born at Benares. He was the only son of a priest of Vishnu, of rank, and was himself intended for the priesthood. At school, he meets with a boy of the name of Balty Mahu, between whom and himself a degree of rivalry, and subsequently the most decided enmity, existed—a circumstance that decided the character of Gurameer's subsequent life. They afterwards met at college, where a more extended theatre was afforded for the exercise of Balty Mahu's malignity. During a vacation, Gurameer, being on a visit to an uncle in the country, one day, when the family had gone to witness a grand spectacle in honour of an important festival in their calendar, which he could not himself attend consistently with the rules of his caste, was tempted to visit the deserted Zenana, or ladies' apartment, where he accidentally meets with a beautiful young female. The acquaintance, thus begun, soon ripened into intimacy, by means of walks in the garden, contrived by Fatima, one of his female cousins. At length they are constrained to separate. Veenah (for so the young lady is named) returns to Benares, whither Gurameer soon follows her. On making his father acquainted with his attachment, the latter endeavours to persuade him to overcome it, and informs him that Veenah's father is avaricious, and a bigot, and hence, that he would probably be prejudiced against him, owing to some imputations which had been cast on Gurameer's religious creed, and industriously circulated by his old enemy, Balty Mahu, who proves to be the cousin of Veenah These considerations prevail upon Gurameer to defer any application to Veenah's father, until the suspicions regarding his faith had either died away or been falsified by his scrupulous observance of all religious duties. This resolution he determines to communicate to his mistress. Accordingly, in the evening, he betakes himself to the quarter of the city where Veenah's father lives; and, walking to and fro before the house, soon discovers that he is recognised. By a cord, let down from the window, he conveys a letter to her, which, the following evening, she answers; and thus a regular correspondence was kept up, which, by the exercise it afforded to their imaginations, and the difficulties attendant upon it, inflamed their passion to the highest pitch. He had, however, soon the misfortune to be discovered by Balty Mahu, and, in consequence, Veenah is debarred from pen and ink, but contrives to acquaint her lover that their intercourse has been discovered, by a short note, written with a burnt stick. Gurameer now goes in despair to Veenah's father, from whom he experiences a haughty repulse, and who, in the following night, secretly leaves the city, with his daughter, embarking on the Ganges, and taking measures to prevent the discovery of the place of his retreat. At the expiration of two or three months, an end is put to Gurameer's doubts and apprehensions, by his return, with his daughter and son-in-law—a rich Omrah, four times her age. After the first ebullitions of rage have subsided, his love returns; but he is never able to succeed in obtaining an interview with Veenah. By his cousin Fatima, he learns the circumstances of Veenah's marriage, and the deceptions which had been practised on her, aided by the unbounded authority which parents exercise in eastern countries. The unhappy Veenah, as firm in her principles as she was gentle in disposition, refuses to see him. "Tell him," said she, "that Heaven has forbidden it, and to its decrees we are bound to submit I am now the wife of another, and it is our duty to forget all that is past. But if this be possible, my heart tells me it can be only by our never meeting!"

Gurameer now fell into a state of settled melancholy, and consented to travel, more for the purpose of pleasing his parents, than from any concern for his own health; but travelling had little effect—"he carried a barbed arrow in his heart; and the greater the efforts to extract it, the more they rankled the wound." When so much emaciated that he was not expected to live a month, he took a voyage, coastwise, to Madras; and, on his arrival there, learned that Balty Mahu had recently left that place. This intelligence operated like a charm; the desire of revenge roused all his energies and became his master passion. He immediately set off in pursuit; but, although often near, could never overtake him. His health rapidly improves; and at length he hears that the old Omrah's health is rapidly declining. This information awakens new thoughts and hopes, and Balty Mahu is forgotten. He hastens hack to Benares; and when near the city, hears two merchants, in conversation, remark that the Omrah is dead, and that his widow was the next day to perform the Suttee. He immediately mounts his horse, and reaches the city the next morning at sunrise. In the street he mixes with the throng;—hears Veenah pitied, her father blamed, and himself lamented. He now sees Veenah approach the funeral pile, who, at the well known sound of his voice, shrieked out, "he lives! he lives!" and would have attempted to save herself from the flames; but the shouts of the surrounding multitude, and the sound of the instruments, drowned her voice. He now attempts to approach the pile for the purpose of rescuing her, but is forcibly held back until the wretched Veenah is enveloped in flames. On his again attempting to reach the pile, he was charged with profanation; and, on Balty Mahu's making his appearance and encouraging the charge, in frantic desperation he seizes a scymetar from one of the guards, and plunges it in his breast. The influence of his friends, and the sacred character of persons of his caste, saved the Brahmin from capital punishment; but he was banished from Hindostan. He now removed to the kingdom of Ava, where he continued so long as his parents lived, after which he visited several countries, both of Asia and Europe; and in one of his journeys, having discovered Lunarium Ore in the mountain near Mogaun, he determined to pass the remainder of his days in that secluded retreat.—"So ends this strange, eventful history."

When the Brahmin terminated his narrative, the extended map beneath them was already assuming a distinct and varied appearance:—

"The Brahmin, having applied his eye to the telescope, and made a brief calculation of our progress, considered that twenty-four hours more, if no accident interrupted us, would end our voyage; part of which interval I passed in making notes in my journal, and in contemplating the different sections of our many peopled globe, as they presented themselves successively to the eye. It was my wish to land on the American continent, and, if possible, in the United States. But the Brahmin put an end to that hope, by reminding me that we should be attracted towards the Equator, and that we had to choose between Asia, Africa, and South America; and that our only course would be, to check the progress of our car over the country of greatest extent, through which the equinoctial circle might pass. Saying which, he relapsed into his melancholy silence, and I betook myself once more to the telescope. With a bosom throbbing with emotion, I saw that we were descending towards the American continent. When we were about ten or twelve miles from the earth, the Brahmin arrested the progress of the car, and we hovered over the broad Atlantic. Looking down on the ocean, the first object which presented itself to my eye, was a small one-masted shallop, which was buffetting the waves in a south-westerly direction. I presumed it was a New-England trader, on a voyage to some part of the Republic of Colombia: and, by way of diverting my friend from his melancholy reverie, I told him some of the many stories which are current respecting the enterprise and ingenuity of this portion of my countrymen, and above all, their adroitness at a bargain.

"'Methinks,' says the Brahmin, 'you are describing a native of Canton or Pekin. But,' added he, after a short pause, 'though to a superficial observer man appears to put on very different characters, to a philosopher he is every where the same—for he is every where moulded by the circumstances in which he is placed. Thus; let him be in a situation that is propitious to commerce, and the habits of traffic produce in him shrewdness and address. Trade is carried on chiefly in towns, because it is there carried on most advantageously. This situation gives the trader a more intimate knowledge of his species—a more ready insight into character, and of the modes of operating on it. His chief purpose is to buy as cheap, and to sell as dear, as he can; and he is often able to heighten the recommendations or soften the defects of some of the articles in which he deals, without danger of immediate detection; or, in other words, big representations have some influence with his customers. He avails himself of this circumstance, and thus acquires the habit of lying; but, as he is studious to conceal it, he becomes wary, ingenious, and cunning. It is thus that the Phenicians, the Carthagenians, the Dutch, the Chinese, the New-Englanders, and the modern Greeks, have always been regarded as inclined to petty frauds by their less commercial neighbours.' I mentioned the English nation.

"'If the English,' said he, interrupting me; 'who are the most commercial people of modern times, have not acquired the same character, it is because they are as distinguished for other things as for traffic: they are not merely a commercial people—they are also agricultural, warlike, and literary; and thus the natural tendencies of commerce are mutually counteracted.'

"We afterwards descended slowly; the prospect beneath us becoming more beautiful than my humble pen can hope to describe, or will even attempt to portray. In a short time after, we were in sight of Venezuela. We met with the trade winds and were carried by them forty or fifty miles inland, where, with some difficulty, and even danger, we landed. The Brahmin and myself remained together two days, and parted—he to explore the Andes, to obtain additional light on the subject of his hypothesis, and I, on the wings of impatience, to visit once more my long-deserted family and friends. But before our separation, I assisted my friend in concealing our aerial vessel, and received a promise from him to visit, and perhaps spend with me the evening of his life. Of my journey home, little remains to be said. From the citizens of Colombia, I experienced kindness and attention, and means of conveyance to Caraccas; where, embarking on board the brig Juno, captain Withers, I once more set foot in New-York, on the 18th of August, 1826, after an absence of four years, resolved, for the rest of my life, to travel only in books, and persuaded, from experience, that the satisfaction which the wanderer gains from actually beholding the wonders and curiosities of distant climes, is dearly bought by the sacrifice of all the comforts and delights of home."

We have thus placed before the reader an analysis of this interesting Satirical Romance. The time and space we have occupied sufficiently indicate the favourable sentiments respecting it with which we have been impressed. Of the execution of the satires, from the several extracts we have given, the reader will himself be enabled to judge. This is of course unequal, but generally felicitous. In the personal allusions which occur through the work, the author exhibits, as we have before noticed, a freedom from malice and all uncharitableness, and in many of them has attained that happy desideratum which Dryden considered a matter of so much difficulty:—

"How easy is it," he observes, "to call rogue and villain, and that wittily! But how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a knave, without using any of those opprobrious terms! To spare the grossness of the names, and to do the thing yet more severely, is to draw a full face, and to make the nose and cheeks stand out, and yet not to employ any depth of shadowing. This is the mystery of that noble trade, which yet no master can teach to his apprentice; he may give the rules, but the scholar is never the nearer in his practice; neither is it true, that this fineness of raillery is offensive. A witty man is tickled, while he is hurt, in this manner, and a fool feels it not: the occasion of an offence may possibly be given, but he cannot take it. If it be granted, that, in effect, this way does more mischief—that a man is secretly wounded, and, though he be not sensible himself, yet the malicious world will find it out for him, yet, there is still a vast difference betwixt the slovenly butchering of a man, and the fineness of a stroke that separates the head from the body, and leaves it standing in its place. A man may be capable, as Jack Ketch's wife said of his servant, of a plain piece of work, a bare hanging; but to make a malefactor die sweetly, was only belonging to her husband."[11]

In conclusion, we must express our regret, that the author should not have added notes to the work—the want of them will be seriously felt by every one; some of the satires, indeed, must escape the reader, unless he pay a degree of attention, which notes would have rendered unnecessary. In his next edition, we trust that this deficiency may be supplied; and we anticipate as much instruction and entertainment, from the wide scope which such an undertaking will afford, as we have derived from the perusal of the text. Cheerfully would we extend to him, if required, the leisure claimed by Spenser, after he had composed the first six books of his "Faerie Queene," provided he would promise us similar conditions:—

"After so long a race as I have run Through Faery Land, which those six books compile, Give leave to rest me, being half foredonne, And gather to myself new breath awhile;

"Then, as a steed refreshed after toyle, Out of my prison will I break anew, And stoutly will that second work assoyle, With strong endeavour, and attention due."

* * * * *

[APPENDIX FOOTNOTES]

[Footnote 1: Scott's Swift, vol. xi. p. 4]

[Footnote 2: Aristoph. in Pace. 130.]

[Footnote 3: Orlando furioso, Canto xxxiv. St. 68 and 69.]

[Footnote 4: Micromegas, Histoire Philosophique, chap. 8.]

[Footnote 5: Fuller, a learned contemporary of the Bishop, has given us an amusing case of litigation, originating from this nourishing character of odours.—

"A poor man, being very hungry, staid so long in a cook's shop, who was dishing up meat, that his stomach was satisfied with only the smell thereof. The choleric cook demanded of him to pay for his breakfast, the poor man denied having had any; and the controversy was referred to the deciding of the next man that should pass by, who chanced to be the most notorious idiot in the whole city be, on the relation of the matter, determined that the poor man's money should be put betwixt two empty dishes, and the cook should be recompensed with the jingling of the poor man's money, as he was satisfied with the smell of the cook's meat."—Fuller's Holy State, lib. iii. c. 12.]

[Footnote 6: Aristophan. in pace. 137.]

[Footnote 7: The idea of the Glonglims is the author's. Ariosto makes the lost intellect, of those who become insane upon the earth, ascend to the moon, where it is kept bottled.—

"Era come un liquor suttile e molle, Atto a esalar, se non si tien ben chiuso; E si vedea raccolto in varie ampolle, Qual piu, qual men capace, atte a quell' uso."

Orlando furioso, Cant. 34. St. 83.]

[Footnote 8: Our author might also have alluded to the old apology for every thing inane or contemptible—"It is a tale of the man in the moon." When that arch flatterer, John Lylie, published (in 1591) his "Endymion, or the man in the moon"—a court comedy, as it was afterwards called; in other words, intended for the gratification of Queen Elizabeth, and in which her personal charms and attractions are grossly lauded—he pleads guilty to its defect in plot, in the following exquisite apologetic prologue:—

"Most high and happy Princess, we must tell you a tale of the man in the moon; which, if it seem ridiculous for the method, or superfluous for the matter, or for the means incredible, for three faults we can make but one excuse,—it is a tale of the man of the moon."

"It was forbidden in old time to dispute of Chymera, because it was a fiction: we hope in our times none will apply pastimes, because they are fancies: for there liveth none under the sun that knows what to make of the man in the moon. We present neither comedy, nor tragedy, nor story, nor any thing, but that whosoever heareth may say this:— 'Why, here is a tale of the man in the moon.' Yet this is the man designated by Blount, who re-published his plays in 1632, as the '_only rare poet of that time, the witie, comicall, facetiously-quicke, and unparallel'd John Lylie, Master of Arts!'"]

[Footnote 9: It is to be regretted that the author has not followed the good example set him by Johnson, in his Debates in the Senate of Magna Lilliputia, published in the Gentlemen's Magazine for 1738: the denominations of the speakers being formed of the letters of their real names, so that they might be easily deciphered. This neglect has obscured many of the author's most interesting satires. Who could suppose from the letters alone, that Wigurd, Vindar, and Avarabet, were respectively intended for Godwin, Darwin, and Lavater?]

[Footnote 10: It is a curious circumstance, that Swift, in his description of the Academy of Lagado, should have so completely anticipated the Pestalozzian invention.]

[Footnote 11: Dryden's Essay on Satire]

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