I see the flags flowing, Out broad blades come flashing, The night is nigh gone.' Vol. i. pp. 274, 275. In this version, which is, to southern ears at least, much more agreeable than the original, we see the danger of the task which Mr. Cunningham has imposed on himself. He acknowledges that the peculiarity of the rhyme obliged him to deviate from the strict meaning of the ruder strain, and to seek for matter more tractable.' The reader, therefore, who would hope to derive from the songs in this collection any insight into the older manners of Scotland must be extremely cautious, in order to discriminate between the true ideas of the original, and the graceful interpolations of the editor. Indeed these songs are stripped of much of their authenticity, where they are not given in their native rudeness, as well as in the translation of Mr. Cunningham. The difference between them is sometimes so great that not only the measure of the original is changed, but the train of thought that pervades it wholly lost sight of. One example will be sufficient. Let the reader compare this with the original. • I rather far be fast nor free, Albeit I might my mynd remove; Except that fervent fyre Hope heghts me sik a hyre I rather far be fast nor free.' Vol. i. p. 307. We must content ourselves with two other specimens of this collection. The following beautiful lines are from the polished pen of Sir Robert Ayton: 'I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair, And I might have gone near to love thee; That lips could speak, had power to move thee: As worthy to be lov'd by none. I do confess thou'rt sweet, yet find That kisseth every thing it meets. Such fate, ere long, will thee betide, When thou hast handled been awhile! And I shall sigh, while some will smile, Hath brought thee to be lov'd by none.'- Vol. i. pp. 320, 321, It is remarkable that Burns failed in attempting to curb the stately march of these lines, by the introduction of a simpler and a more Scottish phraseology. Since his famous Langsyne, we agree with Mr. Cunningham that nothing has appeared more beautiful than the following stanzas on the same endearing theme. author is not known. • When silent time, wi' lightly foot, I sought my lang lost hame again, 'As I came by my father's tow'rs, These ivy'd towers now met my e'e, The Till Donald totter'd frae the door, And grat to see the lad come back 'I ran thro' every weel kenn'd room, In hopes to meet friends there; Till warm remembrance' gushing tear I steek'd the door and sobb'd aloud Vol. iii. pp. 335, 336. ART. IX. Naval Sketch-Book; or, the Service Afloat and Ashore; with characteristic Reminiscences, Fragments, and Opinions on Professional, Colonial, and Political Subjects; interspersed with copious Notes, Biographical, Historical, Critical, and Illustrative. By an Officer of Rank. 2 Vols. 8vo. London. Colburn. 1826. By far the greater part of these volumes must be utterly unintelligible to all but naval men: to them it will afford a considerable treat; and as we were at sea ourselves, long ago, in our youth, we also can taste its humour perfectly. There is a strange disposition, however, among readers, to relish what they do not perfectly understand; and we have no doubt that a considerable portion of the interest of the Waverley novels, particularly in all the Scotch parts, arises from their being in a language of which we barely comprehend the meaning. What is odd enough, this is seldom admitted by the English, who pretend they understand what is written completely, and, in point of fact, they have no means of measuring their ignorance: they feel gratified, and they imagine it is from comprehending the matter thoroughly; while it is only Scotch people who can by possibility enter into the full spirit of many passages, which, nevertheless, in England, have the highest popularity. So it is with writings such as this, where the sea-slang, which must be Hebrew to most readers, will be read with interest. In both cases, however, one essential point must be attended to, the language must be correct in its way, otherwise it totally fails to produce the effect. An English reader, quite ignorant of the Scottish language, will not indeed be able to rectify the errors of a pretended Scotch expression; but such false writing will strike the eye of the reader, and be felt as inaccurate, he does not know why. Whereas, if the whole be true to the life, it will leave an impression of fidelity, and convey an interest which it is the writer's object to inspire: just as we say of certain portraits of persons we have never seen; we are certain they must be likenesses. It is the same with nautical or any other professional phraseology: if it be strictly such as is used by men engaged in those employments, it bears the stamp of authenticity, and is felt to be characteristic, by every reader, however ignorant of the particular habits and occupations to which the language has reference. The contrary is still more striking; and when an author, such as the writer of a recent novel, who has never been in blue water in his life, pretends to introduce old admirals, who talk of "splicing the mainmast,” and such nonsense, the most inexperienced reader detects at once that the author's ocean is a mere horse-pond. From all pretensions of this kind, the reader of the Naval SketchBook is quite safe: every word smells of pitch and tar; and really some parts of it are so well done, that, like the panorama of Leith Roads, they are apt to make one a little qualmish. Even in places where the author has no intention of being technical, and where, on the contrary, he imagines he is talking the best possible English, we detect the sailor. He wears a long coat now-a-days, but like his own capital story of a deserter, his lingo' betrays him, for all his canonicals. This, indeed, is the chief charm of the book, and is precisely the quality which, if we mistake not, gives our naval officers their acknowledged popularity in society; a sort of off-hand, jovial, reckless kind of talk, the very opposite to premeditated sententiousness, and highly characteristic of their desultory life and varied occupations. In the introduction, our author dwells with considerable effect on the absurd misrepresentations of the naval character, which have gone abroad, and gives, as an example, an anecdote of Lord Nelson, which is currently believed to be true, though every line of it betrays the falsehood and folly of the writer. 'Sailors,' he well observes, are thus unfortunate in more respects than one. Generally, when they sit for a portrait, the canvass is made to glow with all the characteristic traits of a bold, generous, reckless ruffian. This might be endured, because it is at once detected as a caricature; but the indignity we feel most disposed to resent, consists in mingling in the picture the maudlin mawkish attributes of the puling writer himself. The sailor becomes in such hands perfectly metamorphosed, so that his intimates would not recognize in the sketch their blunt, honest, warm-hearted acquaintance.'-Introduction, pp. xiv, xv. As a corrective to these evils, our author promises, what he terms, Galley Stories,' which he intends shall serve the double purpose of showing his opinion of men and manners, ashore and afloat,' and also, under the disguise of professional allusions, convey a clear and intelligible moral.' We think he makes out his point with considerable skill, especially in those stories which relate to several naval actions of celebrity, and which have long furnished matter for endless discussions in rank of the service. There is no reason, indeed, every to expect that these galley stories will have the effect of terminating such discussions; on the contrary, they will merely add 6 6 fuel to the flame of controversy. This, however, we by no means deprecate; since every thing which has the effect of keeping alive among professional men an interest in the details, and especially the glorious ones, of past days, is calculated to do good. Such disputes lead to the investigation of the principles upon which success or failure has depended, and the result cannot fail to be instructive to every class of officers. On this account, we have always lamented that Admiral Ekin's book, written, as he professes, for the benefit of the younger members of the profession, should have been published in so unavailable a size. The first sketch relates to the début of a young naval hero, and is well calculated to recall to the mind of every one who has entered the navy, the miserable transition from a life on shore to that on the ocean. It is said there is no royal road to the mathematics, and it may be said, with equal truth, that there is no royal way to high station in the navy. Most fortunately it is so; for, however un→ pleasant it may be at first for the wretched urchins, who, to use the Lieutenant's phrase, in this story, are like young bears, with all their sorrows to come, there can be no doubt, that the rough discipline exerted over them at that season fits them better than any thing else, and by the most judicious degrees, for the right use of that power they would inevitably abuse, were they to come to it without the long train of experience to which we allude. Much useless pity, however, is often wasted upon these young "aspirants" by their mothers, and especially by their goodly maiden aunts, who judge of the matter as if they themselves were exposed to the hardship of a midshipman's birth. Nothing can be more fallacious: the boy is astounded at first, no doubt, and he suffers a little from the ridicule of his companions, and from the rough duties he has to perform; his little heart, too, saddens at the thoughts of home, as he sails away, and the white cliffs of his country sink beneath the horizon. But at his age life is elastic, and when his sea-sickness is over, and he has learned a few phrases to fling back upon his tormentors, he feels that his situation is not so bad, and, compared with what he has left, greatly preferable. He has escaped the discipline of school, and the constant watch which was exerted over him at home: he sees new climates, new countries, new people; and though his usefulness is little enough at first, he still feels he is somebody in the scale of existence, and not one of a mere heap of ciphers at a grammarschool, drudging at nonsense-verses, and other pursuits, which his reason tells him are to lead to nothing: whereas, on board ship, even if his expectations of complete liberty be counteracted by the presence of a schoolmaster, he has the satisfaction of feeling that every acquisition of knowledge is practically useful; and, in proportion as he learns, is conscious of increased importance. There can be no higher stimulus than this; and we dwell upon it the more, |