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servants: the Turk thinks of his dinner and siesta; the Greek, of his toilet and promenade: the former lives to please bimself; the latter, to excite the admiration of others: the Turk washes his body, and neglects his apparel; the Greek washes his apparel, and neglects his body : the former uncovers his feet as a token of respect; the latter, his head: the Turk professes ignorance upon all subjects; the Greek, upon none: the former leaves every event to the disposal of Providence; the latter, to his own wits: the Turk will overreach you at the council table; the Greek, in the bazar: the former deceives you in the conditions of a compact; the latter, in the fulfilment: the Turk ascribes bis misfortunes to an unalterable destiny, meets them with composure, and avails himself of the slight opportunities that may remain; the Greek ascribes them to capricious accident, or his own folly, endures them murmuringly, and often spurns what is left, in vexation for what is lost: the Turk, in going into battle, relies upon solid physical force; the Greek, upon dexterity and stratagem: the former calls upon Mahonet, and fights for his religion; the latter calls upon the Virgin Mary, and fights for himself: the Turk regards an absolute despotism as the ordinance of his Prophet, and religiously renders it obedience; the Greek considers it the ordinance of the devil, and indignantly resists: the Turk, if required to relinquish a habit, thinks of its origin; the Greek, of what is to take its place: with the former, nothing can outweigh the sanctions of antiquity; with the latter, nothing prevail against the promises of novelty: the Turk is a true devotee to his religion; the Greek makes bis religion his convenience: with the former, his piety is the substance of things hoped for; with the latter, it is the evidence of things seen: the Turk tolerates the Christian infidel in the exercise of his religion, but decapitates a convert to it from his own; the Greek burns the partial dissenter, and allows the hopeless a postate to escape: with the former, the closer the resemblance, the stronger the affection ; with the latter, the nearer the approximation, the greater the antipathy: the Turk kisses his death-warrant, and thinks of beaven; the Greek tramples it under his foot, and seizes his weapons: the former dies like a philosopher; the latter, like a gladiator."

Following the traits of the Turks, in which, by the way, at the conclusion of the tenth chapter, we find one of the most affecting representations and finest moral paintings that occur in the work, is a very sensible account, in a few pages, of the policy of Sultan Mahmoud, including the features of the present government of Turkey. The remarks are conceived in a spirit of philosophical reflection, and appear to us equally vigorous and just. There is scarcely a subject, in the range of human speculation, more interesting than the possible fate of the Turkish empire, now rapidly hastening to its fall. The influence of such an event on civilization and Christianity is a topic of vital concern, in respect to the welfare of a large portion of the human family. With our author, we think that is the day has passed, when the blind dictates of irresponsible power can be rendered palatable even to the Mussulman ; that not only will the tyranny that weighs him down be shaken off, but with it must pass the onerous chain of ecclesiastical authority; that the same

effort which lifts the Mussulman above the broken fetters of his despotism, will place him on the ruins of his religion.”

Our author visited the plain of Troy, of which a lively account is given ; but he comes to the melancholy result, acquiesced in by all judicious travellers before him, that its locality can never be identified, and even that the city of Priam is, and ever will be, "a splendid uncertainty."

Mr. Colton, after having left the Troad, found himself, in due time, on the plain of Argos. The flame of classical enthusiasm rises higher, as he stands on more certain ground, and is able to identify places, scenery, and monuments.

In the chapter containing the narrative of his visit to Argos, we have an instance of our author's pungent, sarcastic, or ironical humour, on subjects which he wishes to invest with ridicule. In general, he does the thing with great effect. The rage for antiquities and inscriptions is well hit off, in the Discovery

of Eve's Monument. The reader will recollect other instances in the volumes, as the Politician in Disgrace, Cicisbeoism in Catania, Advice to Distillers, Vanity of Fanatics, and many more. Indeed, they are too numerous to consist with the highest interest of the narrative.

The classical glow of Mr. Colton seemed to be at its height as he stood on the ruins of the Acropolis of Athens. His vivid and delightful impressions are expressed with even more than his usual elegance and force. But we have no room for additional exemplifications of the contents of these volumes. We may but remark, in regard to his picture of Athens in its present state of its monuments, ruins, natural features, and society—that, although it occupies but a small space, it is sufficiently minute for his purpose, and, withal, comprehensive. Before leaving the hallowed spot, he pays a merited and affecting tribute to the character of American missionaries in Greece, and descants on the missionary enterprise in a style of chaste and nervous eloquence.

Mr. Colton's books, the reader will perceive, are very much shaped by the characteristics of the times. They are strongly impressed with the features of our current English literature. The age of imitation departed, for the most part, towards the conclusion of the last century, when the writers who followed the era of Queen Anne dropped the pen. The musical and measured sentences, the delicate and nicely-turned periods of those days, were avoided by the class of writers who succeeded, and who introduced new subjects and modes of recorded thought. An over-refined delicacy of taste then disappeared. The description of artificial habits of social intercourse was, in a great degree, abandoned. Vigour and novelty' were infused into description and narrative, whether of prose or verse. A less

studied and more appropriate language embodied warmer and more unsophisticated sentiments and feelings. A high sense of the beautiful, both in nature and art, was cultivated, and imagination was set free, to find congenial themes and illustrations through the wide world of matter and mind. The elder living authors, especially in Great Britain, constitute, in part, the class here described. The spirit of these men still exists in their juniors. All is life and action in the literature of the times. Novelty and naturalness are, or would be, its characteristics. We think, as above intimated, that this feature is highly prominent in Mr. Colton's books. There is in him, perhaps, an unusual reaching after sentiment, and novelty, and unwonted forms of mental exhibition. The liveliness of his imagination, and his original vein, would naturally lead him into such a path.

From this source, however, have proceeded, we suspect, the few faults which are found in these volumes, to some of which allusion has already been made. The too frequent recurrence of episodes is one—the author's disposition to ramble away from the subject in hand, and to introduce matters foreign to it, and tending to weaken the impression of the grand whole. In connection with the above is the turn too strongly manifested for comic and farcical representations: we have sarcasm and broad caricature instead of just and sober delineation : a melange of wit, whimsies, and love, occupies the place of simple narrative. These things occur with an undue frequency, considering the nature of the work, and not always on occasions where they would be expected. This is a fault which some readers would notice, perhaps, more than they would the beauties, which ought to conceal it from their view. A tinge of romance, too, is perceived in the work, which probably may be traced to the source above named. The style of the novelist appears—we have luscious descriptions of female beauty—the realities of life are veiled in a gorgeous drapery of fancy—and we seem to be absorbed in the illusions of an oriental fairy tale. The purpose in view is, doubtless, the commendable one of securing attention in these times of excitement; but the experiment would be somewhat hazardous, even now, in a writer destitute of Mr. Colton's power of thought and solidity of judgment. Judicious and reflecting readers are those, alone, whom it is of any importance, after all, to secure and gratify, if a writer's object be usefulness and a permanent fame.

The awe with which matters of religion and conscience should be touched, also, seems sometimes to have been less delicately felt in the composition of the work than they should be. We speak of the outward aspect of the thing—we enter not into the sanctuary of the heart-we believe that all is pure and right there. The pleasantries referred to as affecting sacred subjects,

take their rise, we imagine, like the other delinquencies named, in the attempt to supply the appetite for excitement—if we must not rather ascribe them to a constitutional buoyancy of spirits. A light expression may occasionally be found, which trenches on the sacredness of the higher and holier principles of our nature. Mr. Colton can express himself, on all occasions, with sufficient cleverness and force, without the necessity of startling the serious reader, even by “the appearance of evil.” The best of men have sometimes been tempted to point an epigram, or add to the force of an affirmation, by the light or perverted use of a sacred truth. This aspect of the books has been noticed by readers, though we believe it has made no strong impression. The censure of a religious newspaper on this subject, or on one involving the same general principle, though, we believe, in a mistaken application, the occasion of which was found in “Ship and Shore," has been ably rebutted in a notice of the circumstance in the subsequent volume. In the preface of that volume, Mr. Colton says, in regard to the general subject, on which we have now touched—“The more serious reader, who may have taken exception to some of the harmless pleasantries of Ship and Shore, will find, perhaps, in these pages less cause of regret. But should he meet occasionally with sentences betraying some of those lighter and less regular pulsations, which will now and then visit the heart, he must not be offended. The only real difference between us, probably, is, that I give expression to feelings, which he more discreetly, perhaps, allows to pass off in silence." Whether this apology be sufficient or not, it is certain that the fault is, in some measure, avoided in the later volume. For our own part, we acquit him altogether of an intention to offend on this score. These pleasantries, it is hoped, will, be sufficiently corrected by the impressive and serious character of many passages which are found throughout the work.

This thought might naturally lead us to speak more directly of the religious allusions and suggestions in the work, and of its general moral complexion and tendency. But we have time only to say on this subject, that it became the professional character of the author, and his sacred station in the United States navy, to make these allusions and suggestions, and to impress on his production, as far as might be, the features of a pure and ardent devotion. We think that we do not mistake the aspect of the work, in this respect, and that the aim, so perfectly apparent in it, of recommending Christianity to the favour of his readers, by frequent and beautiful reminiscences on the subject, is fully answered. We have admired, in many instances, the author's easy and graceful transitions from the natural to the spiritual. Take, for example, the idea which was suggested

to his fancy by the sight of a wreck. It was to him a type of the future wreck of “the great globe," and elicited a short poem, at the close of which is the following impressive stanza :

“And so 'twill sink amid the tide of time,

And leave no relic on the closing wave,
Except the annals of its grief and crime.
The pitying heaven will weep above its grave,
And universal nature softly rear

A dewy urn to this departed sphere." Or another instance, of an allusion somewhat similar, may be selected, where, from the ruins of Athens, of “the grove where Plato lectured, the leafy retreat where Aristotle taught," he passes to the ruin of Time, and from time to eternity, when Time shall

“ Hear a mightier monarch say-
Advance my throne, let the last summons sound.'

Then shall thy scepter'd glories pass away,
And no bright trophy of thy reign be found,

Save in the wrecks of that tremendous day!
Man, startling from his grave, shall look for thee,

Bút find alone his own eternity.”

Art. V.-A System of Phrenology. By GEORGE COMBE, late

President of the Phrenological Society. Third Edition. Edinburgh.

“Know thyself !" was the saying of one of the wisest of the ancient philosophers; and so highly was it esteemed, that it was inscribed upon the wall over the entrance of the temple of Delphos; and was regarded as proceeding from the mouth of the presiding divinity

In modern times it has been said, and received universal assent, that “the proper study of mankind is man;" and in accordance with this sentiment, from the earliest period to which history reaches, through all ages, we find that the most acute and profound thinkers, and diligent enquirers, have been busily employed in the examination of the character and properties of our physical, moral, and intellectual nature. And although it is true, that a vast amount of labour has been misapplied—wasted upon vain and unprofitable efforts to discover things placed beyond the reach of the finite mind-such as the nature of the connection between matter and spirit, it is neverthelesss indisputable, that much valuable information has been

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