lash of the honest critic, when he beholds men pandering to the corruption of the public mind, in order that they may be enabled to corrupt themselves with luxurious living, and flutter their little hour amid vanities which a manly spirit would utterly despise?

The critic whom I am now venturing to criticise, tells us very plainly that the book he is reviewing" is a bad book, and, what is worse, it is of a class of bad books got up for a bad public." He laments over the signs of the times. What sign can be worse, may I take the liberty of asking him, than that which he himself makes with his own right hand? What sign can be worse than that a man who sees the corruption of the public mind-who sees that a bad class of books is prepared to minister to that corruption-who has one of these bad books, and its author, actually grasped in his critical forceps, and yet, instead of manfully crushing both, invents excuses for such an author-tells him it is not his fault that he has fallen upon evil days-talks of the custom of his trade-and will not "reproach him too severely with his submission to the necessity of pandering to the prevalent corruption of intellect?" What can be worse than this? Where is the boldness which is needful for rooting out this spreading mischief? Certainly not with those who think, or affect to think, there can be any excuse in circumstances for the man who deliberately takes

hire for the manufacture of a bad book. There may be great differences of opinion as to what constitutes a bad book; but when a critic has made up his mind that a book is bad-that is to say morally bad-tending to promote corruption of mind-he scandalously deserts his duty if he does not rebuke the author with all the force of language which he possesses.

BEAUTY AND PLAINNESS.

MRS. SOUTHEY, late Miss Caroline Bowles, has published a little volume of miscellaneous matters, some in verse, and some in prose, which she calls "Solitary Hours." I need scarcely say that whatever Mrs. Southey writes is written gracefully and in a right spirit, and that the little book is well worthy of a place in every lady's library. But it is not my object to enter upon general criticism: I wish to speak of a certain essay in the volume upon the subject of Beauty," which asserts what I have not before seen asserted in print, though I do remember to have heard the theory mooted in friendly talk by one who combines wisdom with humour, and simplicity with power.

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Mrs. Southey ventures to teach that with which I beg to express my unqualified agreement, namely, that beauty, even in the estima tion of sobriety and good sense, is a good and

pleasant thing, for which one ought to be glad and thankful. "Of all cants," says our lady author, "one of the most sickening to my taste is that of some parents who pretend (I give them little credit for sincerity) to deprecate for their female offspring that precious gift as it really is, or as they are pleased to term it, that dangerous distinction'-personal beauty. They affect, forsooth, to thank Providence that their daughters are no beauties,' or to sigh and lament over their fatal attractions, and then they run out into a long string of trite axioms and stale common-places about the snares and vanities of this wicked world, as if none but beauties were exposed to the assaults of the tempter."

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There, Mrs. Southey, you have hit the nail upon the head. There's the respect that makes such difference between the hasty conclusions of the shallow and the observations of the wise.

"Now, I am firmly of opinion," continues our authoress (so am I, good listeners)—“ I am firmly of opinion, nay, every day experience proves it is so, that ugly women, called plain by courtesy, are just as liable to slip and stumble in those treacherous pitfalls as others of their sex distinguished by personal attractiveness; and on a fair average, that pretty women are the happiest, as well as the most agreeable, of the species."

It must not be supposed that, in agreeing with this conclusion, I lose sight of the argu

ments which may justly be urged per contra. It cannot be denied that beauty is more subject to the dangerous influence of flattery administered with a bad purpose. I admit that much more importunity will be used (perhaps) to lead it into transgression than would be addressed to such as are personally less attractive. But recollect, on the other hand, what self-respect, or pride, if you will, is inspired by beauty, and how often that will repulse the intruder. Suppose one to be personally of that description that any degree of particular attention must needs be held as a particular compliment. Is there no danger there? Suppose a little further, that personal advantages were so far out of the question as to make the actual, if not the apparent wooing begin on the wrong side; how prodigious then is the danger! And from such dangers beauty may in general be said to be free.

Much of the practical truth,-of the substantial reality, belonging to these considerations, depends upon the station in life—the circumstances and education of those whom they concern. With regard to the most numerous class -they who are born to work their own way in the world-the considerations I have just adverted to, do, in my opinion, most extensively apply.

Mrs. Southey, however, very ingeniously points out the advantages of various kinds likely

to attend the attractiveness of beauty in a higher sphere of life. "Let us," she says, "suppose a child endowed with moderate abilities, an amiable disposition, and a decent share of beauty, and other children of the same family gifted in an equal proportion with mental qualifications, but wholly destitute of external charms; will not the fair attractive child be the most favoured, the best beloved, generally speaking, even of those parents who endeavour to be, and honestly believe that they are, most conscientiously impartial? The same anxious care may, it is true, be equally bestowed upon all-the same tender and endearing epithets be applied to all; but the eye will linger longest on the sweet countenance of the lovely little one; the parental kiss will dwell more fondly on its rosy lip, and the voice in speaking to it will be involuntarily modulated to softer and more tender tones. I am not arguing that this preference, however involuntary it may be, is even then wholly defensible, or that, if knowingly, weakly yielded to, it is not in the highest degree cruel and inexcusable. I only assert that it is in human nature; and, waving that side of the question, which if analysed, would involve a long moral discussion, not necessarily connected with the present subject, I would simply observe, that if this unconscious, irresistible preference frequently influences even the fondest parents, how far more unrestrainedly does it manifest itself in the