For that one of their drummers and

one Sergeant Matcham, Had "brushed with the dibs," and they

never could catch 'em,

So Justice was sure, though a long time she "lagged,"

or less, with impurity, and coming too frequently in contact with the mind, they are apt to leave behind traces of their presence, which are not easily eradicated. Amid much genuine humour, tainted, however, in many instances by this leaven of vulgarity, it is gratifying to turn to passages of a different kind, which atone, in some degree, for minor faults, and which show, that Barham could sometimes throw off the motley and speak the emotions of his heart. What can be more musical and plaintive than the following lines upon

NIGHT.

mon," got "scragged."

The subjects of the legends are mostly taken from local traditions, furnished, in many instances, by Mrs. Hughes, to whom the whole of Ingoldsby's pieces were submitted previous to publication. The Dead Drummer is founded upon the narrative of an actual occurrence as related in Sir Walter Scott's work on 66 Demonology and Witchcraft;" and the adventures of saints and holy friars, which form by far too large a portion of the legends, are derived from monkish chronicles and from other black letter sources, which Ingoldsby was fond of perusing. The manner in which the Romish church is ridiculed, its ceremonials made food for laughter, and its traditions converted into burlesque, is certainly objectionable in the highest degree. As a minister of religion Ingoldsby should have paused ere he launched arrows which might have recoiled upon himself; he should have paused and reflected that, although in his own mirthful mood, he was uttering words that would cause many smiles, that his language was also calculated to make the "judicious grieve." Religion is not a theme for the jester; the house of prayer is no place for the cap and bells; we want no grinning even in the temple of the Hindoo. Barham was rather too liberal in his use of street slang. The amount of latent wit contained in those expressions, which, at different seasons, are passed from mouth to mouth without regard to propriety or occasion, is not very large. Springing from the kennel, they are always charged, more

the summer moon is high, And countless stars, like clustering gems, hang sparkling in the sky; While the balmy breath of the summer

breeze comes whispering down the glen, And one fond voice alone is heard;-Oh! night is lovely then.

But when that voice in feeble moans, of sickness or of pain,

But mocks the anxious ear that strives to catch its tones in vain,

When silently we watch the bed by the taper's flickering light,

Where all we love is fading fast-how terrible is night.

Again, his reflections on the fleeting nature of earthly happiness:

Yet the sun shone bright on tower and tree,

And the meads smiled green as green may And the dear little dicky-birds carolled

be,

with glee;

Without, all was joy and harmony.
And thus 'twill be, nor long the day,
Ere we, like him, shall pass away!
Yon sun, that now our bosoms warms,
Shall shine-but shine on other forms;
Yon grove, whose choir so sweetly cheers
Us now, shall sound on other ears;
The joyous lambs, as now shall play,
But other eyes their sports survey;
The stream we loved shall roll as fair,
The flowery sweets-the trim parterre,
Shall scent as now the ambient air,
The tree whose bending branches bear;
The one loved name shall yet be there,
But where the hand that carved it?-
where?

What solemn beauty there is in these lines from the "Execution," and what a painful picture they give us of

Sweetly, oh! sweetly the morning breaks
With roseate streaks,
[cheeks,
Like the first faint blush on a maiden's
Seem'd as that mild and clear blue sky
Smiled upon all things far and nigh-
All save the wretch condemned to die;
Alack! that ever so fair a sun

As that which his course has now begun,
Should shine on such scene of misery,
Should gild with rays, so light and free,
That dismal, dark, frowning gallows tree.
But hark! a sound comes, big with fate,
The clock from St. Sepulchre's tower
strikes eight.

List to that low funereal bell;

It is tolling, alas! a living man's knell.
And see from forth that opening door,
He comes-he treads that threshold o'er,
Who ne'er shall tread upon threshold

more.

God! 'tis a fearful sight to see
That pale wan man's mute agony;
The glare of that wild despairing eye,
Now fixed on the earth, now turned on
the sky,

As though it were scanning in hope and fear

The path of the spirit's unknown career;

Those pinioned arms, those hands that

ne'er

Shall be lifted again-not even in prayer,
That heaving breast-enough; 'tis done;
The bolt has fallen, the spirit has gone,
For weal or for woe is known to but One.
Oh! 'twas a fearsome sight-ah me!
A thing to shudder at, not to see.

The apostrophe to Seville, from the "Auto da Fé," is a passage of considerable power and intensity. Though bordering upon the melo-dramatic, its earnestness is impressive and truthful.

Yes; thou art wonderful; the phrase
Befits thee well-the fearful blaze
Of yon piled faggots' lurid light,
Where writhing victims mock the sight,
The scorch'd limb shrivelling in its chains,
The hot blood parched in living veins,
The crackling nerve, the fearful knell,
Rung out by that remorseless bell;
Those shouts from human fiends that
swell,

That withering scream-that frantic yell,
All Seville, all, too truly tell
Thou art a MARVEL and a hell.

God! that the worm whom thou hast made,

Should thus his brother worm invade; Count deeds like these good service done, And deem thine eye looks smiling on.

Turning from this grim picture,

observable in the following lines upon a faithful dog.

Oh, where shall I bury my poor dog Tray,
Now his fleeting breath has passed away?
Seventeen years, I can venture to say,
Have I seen him gambol, and frolic, and
play.

Evermore happy, and frisky, and gay,
As though every one of his months was
May,
[day:
And the whole of his life one long holi-
Now he's a lifeless lump of clay;
Oh! where shall I bury my faithful Tray?
I am almost tempted to think it hard
That it may not be there in yon sunny
churchyard,

Where the green willows wave
O'er the peaceful grave

[brave,

Which holds all that once was honest and

Kind, and courteous, and faithful, and true,

Qualities, Tray, that were found in you;
But it may not be. Yon sacred ground,
By holiest feelings fenced around,
May ne'er within its hallowed bound
Receive the dust of a soulless hound.

We could wish that the author of

such lines as these had more frequently allowed the higher powers of his mind to have sway: we could wish that his devotion to genealogical and archæolo gical studies had been less constanc and that the society of such hilarious spirits as Theodore Hook and Sidney Smith had not been so often frequented. We might have hoped that the loss, in 1840, of a beloved son-a blow which fell with deepest anguish upon his heart, would have calmed and tempered his after imaginings and elevated them to another sphere. But no; his elasticity of mind was great; and although he never thoroughly recovered from the effects of his bereavement, he regained that cheerful, happy disposition which through life had rendered his path so pleasant. He died calmly on the 17th of June, 1845, in the 57th year of his age.

As a comic poet Barham possessed many excellencies and many faults, but the latter almost pass away at the recognition of the former. There is a want of steadfastness, however, in the whole of his writings-a want of that quiet innate wit, which seeks not to astonish us by sudden and startling flights, the effect of which is transient though bright, but rather to appeal to that sense of the humorous which we

all possess in different degrees, and which views impressions long-living in the memory.

As a writer in the Athenæum remarks, "Purpose, which implies earnestness of mind, goes far towards that individuality of style which makes an author acceptable to another generation, than those who with him have sat at good men's feasts, and heard the chimes at midnight." As a poet, Ingoldsby seems to us to stand at the precise distance from Hood, which separates Theodore Hook as a prose wit from Sidney Smith. The sincerity makes the difference. Like Ingoldsby, Hood loved to alternate the serious, nay, the terrible with the most familiar. It was his nature. He played with fantasies even on his death bed, and took leave of his friends with pathetic pleasantries natural to him, though strange to duller bystanders. But in his most reckless and wildest extravaganzas, embracing the extremest discrepancies, there was for the most part a motive-some truth to be driven home-some sympathy to be awakened -some abuse to be annihilated. In the school to which Thomas Ingoldsby may well be called poet laureate, such motives of composition were less universally recognized. The hoax, the surprise, the piecing together of tissues the most discordant, for the momentary production of bizarre effect-the passing shot at folly as it flew-exchanged for the passing flight with folly, however far it flew furnished mirth for its table-talk, and matter for its literary effort. Hood is sure to go down among the poets to our children's children, and commentators to come will probably wrangle about his freaks and allusions and conceits: such a positive prophecy with regard to Ingoldsby would be somewhat too presumptuous.

Had Thomas Ingoldsby done justice to his own powers he would have occupied a prouder position amongst the names of the illustrious than he now holds. But it might not be.

and while many dogmas were exploded for ever, their place was supplied by a new growth of fundamental prin ciples. In physics especially was the change apparent. Bacon had long before dealt a death-blow to the school of the Latins, and the inductive method had achieved some brilliant triumphs. Flamstead, Halley, and Newton followed up the work so well begun, and placed the philosophy of the world on the basis of a broad induction. At the time of Ray, who lived nearly a century after Bacon, the philosophy of anima ted nature was in a most vague condition, and much of the teaching of the European schools required to be untaught. Ray made the first definite attempts to reduce zoology into the form of a science, and abolish for ever those crude reasonings which had been formed on isolated facts. The classification of Ray was, as might be expected, very far from perfect, and amongst the anomalies, the class of quadrupeds stand prominently forward. The classification which brought a cow and a tortoise together was broken up by Linnæus, who instituted a system founded on more accurate generalities. But Linnæus left zoologists much to do; and twenty years afterwards, Brisson made a new march in this direction, and prepared the world for a higher appreciation of the analogies subsisting between the powers of life. Brisson saw the absurdity of classing whales with fishes, and so far influenced Linnæus in favour of a stricter method, that the latter went even farther than Brisson, and instituted the class Mammalia, which was the grand corner stone of the system of Zoological classification which followed.

workers in the field of animal life have proved so broad and sound, that zoological science has extended itself more within the last sixty or seventy years than during the whole previous period of man's history. The labours of Lamarck, St. Hilaire, Home, Hunter, Lawrence, Owen, and others, during recent years, have shown how sound were the principles of generalization established by these two master minds, and how rapidly any branch of science may progress when aided by a safe system of analysis.

Johann Friedrich Blumenbach was born at Gotha, on the 11th of May, 1752. He studied medicine in the universities of Jena and Gottingen; and, as a pupil of the anatomical school, early evinced a capability for the highest attainments. His college life was marked by diligent industry and clear-sighted research, and he seems to have had a prescience even in his youth of the distinguished career which awaited him. Long before his university course was out, he had so penetrated into the mysteries of comparative anatomy and physiology, as to be, in many respects, in advance of the professors: and several essays on the functions of animals, written at this time, show the extent of his attainments to have been equal to his love for this particular department of research. At Gottingen he took his degree in 1775. The subject which he chose for his inaugural disertation, was the varieties of the human race. This was published at Gottingen in 1775, under the title "De Generis Humani Varietate Nativa," and excited considerable sensation even in the form in which it first appeared. This essay appears to have laid the foundation of many of his important investigations on this subject in his after life, and led to the formation of his collection of the skulls of all nations, which is one of the most extensive in existence. "Ab hoc Col. Viro," said Haller, on noticing it in the "Bibliotheca Anatomica" plurima sitilia licet expectare." This merely inaugural essay experienced the unusual fate of passing through seven separate editions; namely, in 1775, 1776, 1781, 1793, and 1795. In that of '95 numerous improvements were effected, and a letter to Sir Joseph Banks was added on the subject of some mummies which had been opened in London.

In 1798, an edition appeared in German edited by Gruber, and in 1804 one in French edited by Chardel.

Such was a good beginning for a young man of twenty-three years of age; and it is no matter of surprise to learn, that immediately on taking his degree he was appointed extraordinary professor of medicine, in the University of Gottingen; and in 1778, he was made ordinary professor. The contemporary of Haller, Linnæus, and Buffon, he pursued the path which these had already prepared and freed from encumbrances, and took a bold stand in defence of the law of analogy, as exhibited in the animal kingdom. A patient anatomist, who brought to the dissecting board an array of knowledge gleaned from every department of nature, he was ready, at the presentation of each new difficulty, to suggest a natural mode of explanation, and to detect those minute points of resemblance and dissimilarity on which the acquirement of just views in zoology depend. He contributed regularly to the sciences connected with medicine, especially anatomy and physiology, and directed his attention specially to the structure and functions of the lower animals, as a means of determining the true laws of human physiology. In 1778, when appointed ordinary professor of the faculty of medicine, Blumenbach commenced his courses of lectures on the different departments of the faculty, including general natural history, zoology, anthropology, comparative anatomy, physiology, and the history of medicine.

In 1779, he published a thin quarto volume, entitled "Prolusio Anatomica de Sinibus Frontalibus,"-(An Essay on the Anatomy of the Frontal Sinus) -a work in which some new views were enunciated in reference to the structure of the human skull, and the position and form of the frontal sinus in several tribes of animals. The work was dedicated to George III. (" magnæ Britanniæ, Franciæ, et Hiberniæ Rex,") and is written in a pure and forcible Latin. In 1781, he published a work on embryology "Ueben den Bildungstrieb und das Zeugungs-geschäft "- -in which he threw much light on the obscure subject of generation, and opened up a path for future inquirers. This work has passed through numerous editions in Germany. It was translated into Dutch in 1790; and an edition

translated by Sir Alexander Crichton, appeared in English in 1793. In 1786 appeared his work on the human bones, with the title, "Geschichte und Beschreibung der Knochen des Menschlichen Körpers." And in the same year he published, in Latin, an introduction to medical literature, under the title, "Introductio in Historiam Medicinæ Litterariam."

In the year 1787 appeared his great work on physiology," Institutiones Physiologica," written in Latin, and dealing with the functions of the human body, apart from its anatomy. This was the first application of the ploughshare of science to a new and fruitful field of inquiry. Up to this time physiological researches had been conducted in so cumbersome a manner, that it was next to impossible to render its teachings in any way popular. Blumenbach stripped the subject of all unnecessary details, and, while rendering the study less complicated, added to it the charm of a consecutive analogical reasoning. Here were the fruits of patient labour in the dissecting room-not in the investigation of the human frame alone, but aided by all the light which comparative physiology could afford by the investigation of the functions of the lower animals. The views of Blumenbach were vast and profound, and he touched no single fibre of the human frame without adding to our knowledge of its construction and uses, and pointing to the essential details in the consideration of disease. It is to this book we owe the popularity of physiology, as a study, at the present day. The number of excellent treatises which have appeared in this country of late years, as well as others, still better, which have been published on the Continent, owe their birth to Blumenbach, and are essentially based on his "Institutiones Physiologica," which has served as a text book, not only to such popular writers as we have just referred to, but to such original inquirers as Richerand, Bichât, Dumas of Montpellier, and Matteucci of Pisa. In this department of study Blumenbach was in advance of his age, and, like a true German thinker, combined with the study of the scalpel a system of ethics purely his own. It is to him we owe the foundation of the new school which combines matter and spirit, and educes

the leading features of human character and conduct from the conditions of the blood and brain. His examinations of the human skull pointed in the same direction, and prepared the world for that broad view of physics, which admits the moral perceptions and the traits of human character as evidences in behalf of the scientific union of the soul and the body. From this has sprung, first in Germany, and since in Europe generally, a system of metaphysics, which places man once more upon his feet, and which establishes a relation between the inward life and the outward circumstances of physical condition. This work quickly became the text-book of the universities. Innumerable translations, reprints, and revised editions, have from time to time appeared, and although the march of physiology has been so rapid during the past sixty years, the original work is one of essential value to the physiological student. The best English edition is that edited by Dr. Elliotson, under the title of "Human Physiology," several editions of which have from time to time appeared. It is a monument of industry and scientific genius, no less honourable to the name of Blumenbach than to the editor who has infused into it so much of his own philosophy and research.

Long before Cuvier had fairly entered into the field of comparative anatomy, Blumenbach had completed some Herculean labours there, and had constituted it a regular department of scientific education. In 1777 he had introduced the subject in his lectures, and in 1785 he made it the foundation of a complete course. Such a step needed courage as well as genius. Before Blumenbach's labours had brought natural history into vogue in Germany, most of the cultivators of literature and art in that country had been accustomed to regard it as a mere childish amusement; but Blumenbach soon produced the conviction of the intimate connexion of this interesting study with science and art, with the annals of human history and the revolutions of the globe. His "Manual of Natural History," published 1799, passed rapidly through twelve editions; and his Comparative Anatomy"-Handbuch der Vergleichende Anatomie-which appeared in 1805, soon won for itself a similar success.