"Edward Lytton Bulwer has vigorous and varied powers: in all that he has touched on he has shown great mastery; his sense of the noble, the beautiful, or the ludicrous, is strong; he can move at will into the solemn or the sarcastic; he is equally excellent in describing a court or a cottage, and is familiar with gold spurs and with clouted shoon. . . . Bulwer is devoted to the cause of literature: all his speeches allude to it; his motions in Parliament refer to it; and in private as well as public life he is its warm and eloquent advocate."-ALLAN CUNNINGHAM: Biog, and Crit. Ilist. of the Lit. of the Last Fifty Years, 1833. See also Bayne's Essays on Biography and Criticism Essays, by George Brimley; Essays on Fiction, by N. W. Senior; Essays, by W. C. Roscoe; Sir A. Alison's Essays, 1850, iii. 113, and his History of Europe, 1815-1852, chap. v.; Edin. Rev., July, 1837; Fraser's Mag., Jan. 1850; Blackw. Mag., Feb. 1855, and March, 1873; (Lond.) Quar. Rev., Jan. 1865. Selections from the Correspondence of the Late Macvey Napier, Esq., Loud., 1879, 8vo.

THE CANDID MAN.

One bright laughing day I threw down my book an hour sooner than usual, and sallied out with a lightness of foot and exhilaration of spirit to which I had long been a stranger. I had just sprung over a stile that led into one of those green shady lanes which make us feel that the old poets who loved and lived for nature were right in calling our island" the merry England," when I was startled by a short, quick bark on one side of the hedge. I turned sharply round; and, seated upon the sward was a man, apparently of the pedlar profession; a great deal box was lying open before him; a few articles of linen and female dress were scattered round, and the man himself appeared earnestly occupied in examining the deeper recesses of his itinerant warehouse. A small black terrier flew towards me with no friendly growl. "Down!" said I: "All strangers are not foes, though the English generally think so."

The man hastily looked up; perhaps he was struck with the quaintness of my remonstrance to his canine companion; for, touching his hat civilly, he said, "The dog, sir, is very quiet; he only means to give me the alarm by giving it to you; for dogs seem to have no despicable insight into human nature, and know well that the best of us may be taken by surprise."

You are a moralist," said I, not a little astonished in my turn by such an address from such a person. "I could not have expected to stumble upon a philosopher so easily. Have you any wares in your box likely to suit me? If so, I should like to purchase of so moralising a vender."

"No, sir," said the seeming pedlar,

his goods into his box, and carefully turning the key-"No, sir; I am only a bearer of other men's goods; my morals are all that I can call my own, and those I will sell you at your own price."

"You are candid, my friend," said I, "and your frankness, alone, would be inestimable in this age of deceit, and country of hypocrisy."

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Ah, sir!" said my new acquaintance, "I see already that you are one of those persons who look to the dark side of things: for my part, I think the present age the best that ever existed, and our country the most virtuous in Europe."

"I congratulate you, Mr. Optimist, on your opinions," quoth I; "but your observation leads me to suppose that you are both an historian and a traveller: am I right?"

"Why," answered the box-bearer, "I have dabbled a little in books, and wandered not a little among men. I am just returned from Germany, and am now going to my friends in London. I am charged with this box of goods: God send me the luck to deliver it safe."

"Amen," said I, "and with that prayer and this trifle I wish you a good morning."

"Thank you a thousand times, sir, for both," replied the man,-"but do add to your favours by informing me of the right road to the town of

"I am going in that direction myself: if you choose to accompany me part of the way I can insure you not missing the rest."

"Your honour is too good!" returned he of the box, rising, and slinging his fardel across him," it is but seldom that a gentleman of your rank will condescend to walk three paces with one of mine. You smile, sir, perhaps you think I should not class myself among gentlemen; and yet I have as good a right to the name as most of the set. I belong to no trade,-I follow no calling: I rove where I list, and rest where I please: in short, I know no occupation but my indolence, and no law but my will. Now, sir, may I not call myself a gentle

man ?"

"Of a surety!" quoth I. "You seem to me to hold a middle rank between a halfpay captain and the king of the gipsies."

"You have it, sir," rejoined my companion, with a slight laugh. He was now by my side, and, as we walked on, I had leisure more minutely to examine him. He was a middle-sized and rather athletic man; apparently about the age of thirty-eight. He was attired in a dark blue frock cont, which was

neither shabby nor new, but ill-made, and much too large and long for its present possessor; beneath this was a faded velvet waistcoat, that had formerly, like the Persian ambassador's tunic, "blushed with crimson, and blazed with gold;" but which might now have been advantageously exchanged in Monmouth Street for the lawful sum of two shillings and ninepence; under this was an inner vest of the Cashmere shawl pattern, which seemed much too new for the rest of the dress. Though his shirt was of a very unwashed hue, I remarked with some suspicion, that it was of a very respectable fineness; and a pin, which might be paste, or could be diamond, peeped below a tattered and dingy black kid stock, like a gipsy's eye between her hair.

Ilis trousers were of a light gray, and the justice of Providence, or of the tailor, avenged itself upon them for the prodigal length bestowed upon their ill-assorted companion the coat; for they were much too tight for the muscular limbs they concealed, and, rising far above the ankle, exhibited the whole of a thick Wellington boot, which was the very picture of Italy upon the

map.

The face of the man was commonplace and ordinary: one sees a hundred such every day in Fleet Street, or on the 'Change: the features were small, irregular, and somewhat flat; yet, when you looked twice upon the countenance, there was something marked and singular in the expression, which fully atoned for the commonness of the features. The right eye turned away from the left in that watchful squint which seems constructed on the same considerate plan as those Irish guns made for shooting round a corner; his eyebrows were large and shaggy, and greatly resembled bramble bushes, in which his fox-like eyes had taken refuge. Round these vulpine retreats was a labyrinthean maze of those wrinkles vulgarly called crows' feet: deep, intricate, and intersected, they seemed for all the world like the web of a Chancery suit. Singularly enough, the rest of the countenance was perfectly smooth, and unindented; even the lines from the nostril to the corners of the mouth, usually so deeply traced in men of his age, were scarcely more apparent than in a boy of eighteen.

His smile was frank,-his voice clear and hearty, his address open, and much superior to his apparent rank of life, claiming somewhat of equality, yet conceding a great deal of respect; but, notwithstanding all these certainly favourable points, there was a sly and cunning expression in his perverse and vigilant eye and all the wrinkled demesnes in its vicinity, that made me distrust

even while I liked my companion: perhaps, indeed, he was too frank, too familiar, too degagé to be quite natural. Your honest men soon buy reserve by experience. Rogues are communicative, because confidence and openness cost them nothing. To finish the description of my new acquaintance, I should observe that there was something in his countenance which struck me as not wholly unfamiliar; it was one of those which we have not, in all human probability, seen before, and yet which (perhaps from their very commonness) we imagine we have encountered a hundred times.

We walked on briskly, notwithstanding the warmth of the day; in fact, the air was so pure, the grass so green, the laughing noonday so full of the hum, the motion, and the life of creation, that the feeling produced was rather that of freshness and invigoration than of languor and heat.

'We have a beautiful country, sir," said my hero of the box. "It is like walking through a garden, after the more sterile and sullen features of the continent. A pure mind, sir, loves the country; for my part, I am always disposed to burst out in thanksgiving to Providence when I behold its works, and, like the valleys in the psalm, I am ready to laugh and sing."

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"An enthusiast," said I, as well as a philosopher! perhaps (and I believed it likely) I have the honour of addressing a poet also."

"Why, sir," replied the man, "I have made verses in my life; in short, there is little I have not done, for I was always a lover of variety; but, perhaps, your honour will let me return the suspicion. Are you not a favourite of the muse?"

"I cannot say that I am," said I. "I value myself only on my common sense,the very antipodes to genius, you know, according to the orthodox belief.”

"Common sense!" repeated my companion, with a singular and meaning smile, and a twinkle with his left eye. "Common sense! Ah, that is not my forte, sir. You, I dare say, are one of those gentlemen whom it is very difficult to take in, either passively or actively, by appearance, or in act? For my part, I have been a dupe all my life,-a child might cheat me! I am the most unsuspicious person in the world."

"Too candid by half," thought I. "This man is certainly a rascal; but what is that to me? I shall never see him again ;" and true to my love of never losing an opportunity of ascertaining individual character, I observed that I thought such an acquaintance very valuable, especially if he were in trade; it was a pity, therefore, for my sake, that my companion had informed me that he followed no calling.

"Why, sir," said he, "I am occasionally in employment; my nominal profession is that of a broker. I buy shawls and handkerchiefs of poor countesses, and retail them to rich plebeians. I fit up new married couples with linen at a more moderate rate than the shops, and procure the bridegroom his present of jewels at forty per cent. less than the jewellers; nay, I am as friendly to an intrigue as a marriage; and when I cannot sell my jewels, I will my good offices. A gentleman so handsome as your honour may have an affair upon your hands; if so, you may rely upon my secrecy and zeal. In short, I am an innocent good-natured fellow, who does harm to no one or nothing, and good to every one for something."

"I admire your code," quoth I, "and, whenever I want a mediator between Venus and myself, will employ you. Have you always followed your present idle profession, or were you brought up to any other?"

"I was intended for a silversmith," answered my friend: "but Providence willed it otherwise they taught me from childhood to repeat the Lord's prayer: Heaven heard me, and delivered me from temptation, there is, indeed, something terribly seducing in the face of a silver spoon."

"Well," said I, "you are the honestest knave that ever I met, and one would trust you with one's purse for the ingenuousness with which you own you would steal it. Pray, think you, is it probable that I have ever had the happiness of meeting you before? I cannot help fancying so,-as yet I have never been in the watch-house or the Old Bailey, my reason tells me that I must be mistaken."

"Not at all, sir," returned my worthy: "I remember you well, for I never saw a face like yours that I did not remember. I had the honour of sipping some British liquors in the same room with yourself one evening: you were then in company with my friend Mr. Gordon."

"IIa!" said I, "I thank you for the hint. I now remember well, by the same token that he told me you were the most ingenious gentleman in England, and that you had a happy propensity of mistaking other people's possessions for your own: I congratulate myself upon so desirable an acquaintance."

My friend smiled with his usual blandness, and made me a low bow of acknowledgment before he resumed: "No doubt, sir, Mr. Gordon informed you right. I flatter myself few gentlemen understand better than myself the art of appropriation, though I say it who should not say it. I deserve the reputation I have acquired, sir; I have always had ill-fortune to struggle against, and always have remedied it by two virtues,

perseverance and ingenuity. To give you an idea of my ill-fortune, know that I have been taken up twenty-three times on suspicion; of my perseverance, know that twenty-three times I have been taken justly; and of my ingenuity, know that I have been twenty-three times let off, because there was not a tittle of legal evidence against me!"

"I venerate your talents, Mr. Jonson," I replied, "if by the name of Jonson it pleaseth you to be called, although, like the heathen deities, I presume that you have many titles. whereof some are more grateful to your ears than others."

"Nay," answered the man of two virtues, "I am never ashamed of my name; indeed, I have never done anything to disgrace me. I have never indulged in low company, nor profligate debauchery: whatever I have executed by way of profession has been done in a superior and artist-like manner; not in the rude, bungling fashion of other adventurers. Moreover, I have always had a taste for polite literature, and went once as an apprentice to a publishing bookseller, for the sole purpose of reading the new works before they came out. In fine, I have never neglected any opportunity of improving my mind; and the worst that can be said against me is, that I have remembered my catechism, and taken all possible pains to learn and labour truly to get my living, and to do my duty in that state of life to which it has pleased Providence to call me!"

"I have often heard," answered I, “that there is honour among thieves; I am happy to learn from you that there is also religion: your haptismal sponsors must be proud of so diligent a godson."

They ought to be, sir," replied Mr. Jonson, "for I gave them the first specimens of my address: the story is long, but, if you ever give me an opportunity, I will relate it."

"Thank you," said I: "meanwhile I must wish you good morning your way now lies to the right. I return you my best thanks for your condescension in accompanying so undistinguished an individual as myself."

"Oh, never mention it, your honour," rejoined Mr. Jonson. "I am always too happy to walk with a gentleman of your common sense. Farewell, sir; may we meet again!" So saying, Mr. Jonson struck into his new road, and we parted.

I went home, musing on my adventure, and delighted with my adventurer. When I was about three paces from the door of my home, I was accosted in a most pitiful tone by a poor old beggar, apparently in the last extreme of misery and disease. Notwithstanding my political economy, I

was moved into alms-giving by a spectacle so wretched. I put my hand into my pocket, my purse was gone; and on searching the other, lo, my handkerchief, my pocket-book, and a gold locket which had belonged to Madame D'Anville, had vanished too.

One does not keep company with men of two virtues, and receive compliments upon one's common sense for nothing! The beggar still continued to importune me.

"Give him some food and half-a-crown," said I to my landlady. Two hours afterwards she came up to me,—

"O sir! my silver tea-pot-that villain the beggar!"

A light flashed upon me,-" Ah, Mr. Job Jonson! Mr. Job Jonson !" cried I, in an indescribable rage; "out of my sight, woman! out of my sight!" I stopped short; my speech failed me. Never tell me that shame is the companion of guilt, the sinful knave is never so ashamed of himself as is the innocent fool who suffers by him. Pelham, or, The Adventures of a Gentleman.

RICCABOCCA ON REVOLUTION.

Out of the Tinker's bag Leonard Fairfield had drawn a translation of Condorcet's "Progress of Man," and another of Rousseau's "Social Contract." Works so eloquent had induced him to select from the tracts in the Tinker's miscellany those which abounded most in professions of philanthropy, and predictions of some coming Golden Age, to which old Saturn's was a joke,-tracts so mild and mother-like in their language, that it required a much more practical experience than Lenny's to perceive that you would have to pass a river of blood before you had the slightest chance of setting foot on the flowery banks on which they invited you to repose,-tracts which rouged poor Christianity on the cheeks, clapped a crown of innocent daffodillies on her head, and set her to dancing a pas de zephyr in the pastoral ballet in which St. Simon pipes to the flock he shears; or having first laid it down as a preliminary axiom that

"The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve," substituted in place thereof Monsieur Fourier's symmetrical phalanstere, or Mr. Owen's architectural parallelogram. It was with some such tract that Lenny was seasoning his crusts and his radishes, when Riccabocca, bending his long dark face over the student's shoulder, said abruptly.

"Diavolo, my friend! what on earth have you got there? Just let me look at it, will

you ?"

Leonard rose respectfully, and coloured deeply as he surrendered the tract to Riccabocca.

The wise man read the first page attentively, the second more cursorily, and only ran his eye over the rest. He had gone through too vast a range of problems political, not to have passed over that venerable Pons Asinorum of Socialism, on which Fouriers and St. Simons sit straddling, and cry aloud that they have arrived at the last boundary of knowledge!

"All this is as old as the hills," quoth Riccabocca, irreverently; "but the hills stand still, and this-there it goes!" and the sage pointed to a cloud emitted from his page. "Did you ever read Sir David Brewster on Optical Delusions? No! Well, I'll lend it to you. You will find therein a story of a lady who always saw a black cat on her hearth-rug. The black cat existed only in her fancy, but the hallucination was natural and reasonable-eh-what do you think?"

Why, sir," said Leonard, not catching the Italian's meaning, "I don't exactly see that it was natural and reasonable."

"Foolish boy, yes! because black cats are things possible and known. But who ever saw upon earth a community of men such as sit on the hearth-rugs of Messrs. Owen and Fourier? If the lady's hallucination was not reasonable, what is his who believes in such visions as these?"

Leonard bit his lips.

"My dear boy," eried Riccabocca kindly, "the only thing sure and tangible to which these writers would lead you, lies at the first step, and that is what is commonly called a Revolution. Now, I know what that is. I have gone, not indeed through a Revolution, but an attempt at one."

Leonard raised his eyes towards his master with a look of profound respect, and great curiosity.

"Yes," added Riccabocca, and the face on which the boy gazed exchanged its usual grotesque and sardonic expression for one animated, noble, and heroic, "Yes, not a revolution for chimeras, but for that cause which the coldest allow to be good, and which, when successful, all time approves as divine, -the redemption of our native soil from the rule of the foreigner! I have shared in such an attempt. And," continued the Italian mournfully, "recalling now all the evil passions it arouses, all the ties it dissolves, all the blood that it commands to flow, all the healthful industry it arrests, all the madmen that it arms, all the victims that it dupes, I question whether one man really honest, pure, and humane, who has once gone through such an ordeal, would ever hazard it again,