We need hardly say, in concluding, how glad we shall be, on any future occasion, and, we hope speedily, to welcome Mr. Montgomery again in his poetical capacity. We have seen several of his occasional verses, which it were very desirable to have colllected from their present very precarious state, in the columns of newspapers and magazines.

[For the Port Folio.]

LIVING MANNERS, OR THE TRUE SECRET OF HAPPINESS.

A Tale. Philadelphia, A Finley, 1822. pp. 108.

The writer of this little volume has comprised his important "Secret" in a very few pages. The ability he has displayed leaves no room to doubt that he might have extended his work to the satisfaction of the public. The commendation it has received from respectable authorities would encourage us to hope that there exists a taste for serious reading, yet it must be acknowledged that the machinery of a story will decoy many through a religious lecture, who would not have sought it in a less attractive form. The design of the author is to show that " Happiness" is to be found only in the possession and practice of religious principle; which is beautifully contrasted with the "Living Manners" of those who "live without God in the world." When the moral is so pure we do not see that the most scrupulous can object to a work of fiction. The divine founder of our religion himself taught in Parables a species of story involving some momentous precept or doctrine. A work of fiction ought to be decried if the lesson inculcated be unsound, or the exhibition of life and character so exaggerated as to induce a disgust to the imperfect beings by whom we are surrounded, and a restless discontent in that mingled state in which we are wisely placed.

"Living Manners" delineates common men, and common incidents-excepting indeed the character of Dr. B. whose portrait we should hope, is borrowed from English books where such portraits have long abounded, rather than from a living example in the church of America. We think such a pastor would not be tolerated in any denomination of christians in our country.

Such language as the following is repulsive to the knowledge and feeling of the present day. We transcribe it, because, while it affords us an opportunity of bearing our testimony against such improper representations of the clerical character, which is so exemplary in the United States, it serves, also, as no unfair specimen of the style of the writer.

"After a few days Dr. B-honoured Sydney with a visit. The character of his young acquaintance had interested him. He was pleased with his ingenuousness, and he thought he could discover indications of talent, but he regretted that one of so fine promise should be led away, by what he considered the extravagance of fanaticism. Mr. Shad spoken to him on the subject of his nephew, and expressed a wish that he would endeavour to convince the youth of his error. Dr. B-now addressed himself to the task.

Sydney answered the raillery of his Rev. friend on the subject of his indifference to amusement with great good nature. At length in reply to the question, why he could not unite in the pursuits common to those of his age, he answered, that it might be a sufficient reason to aver that he found no delight in them; but, he would go farther, and say, that they destroyed his delight in religion, and, he was satisfied, if indulged in, they would soon destroy his religion

itself.

"And what kind of a religion is yours?" said the Dr.

"One, sir, that has its seat in the heart, and its aliment in communion with God."

Well, but may not a man be religious and live like the rest of the world? I am sure your joining with your friends need not prevent your saying your prayers, or your going to church, or your living honestly."

My Bible tells me not to be conformed to the world, and characterises the friendship of the world as enmity with God. As to saying my prayers, I may do that without praying, and I may go to the church and spend all the time thinking of the ball."

"But do you believe, when the Bible tells us not to be conformed to the world, it means any other than the heathen world?"

Every man's heart, we are told, is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, and, of course, the great congregation of those hearts which make up the world, must be as much enmity against God, in this our day, as they were in the days of the heathen."

"Is not that strong language figurative?"

Figurative! why, Dr. are we not commanded to love the Lord our God with all our mind and strength, and is it not evident as the sun-beam that we do any thing but love him?"

"I am sure we do love him. We cannot help loving a Being of so much goodness,"

"Yes, his goodness we may love very well, but do we love his holiness? and if we do not love his holiness, is it not evident we do not love the God of the Bible? but we do not even love a God of goodness. If we did, we should serve him."

And do we not serve him? Are we not regular in going to his temple, and offering up our thanks?"

"Is that all, or the chief part of this service? Does He not require the heart? and is it not palpable that our hearts are in love

with gratification, in some one of its thousand modes? Are we not more devoted to pleasure, the making of money, or the gaining of influence, than to the glory of even a God of goodness?"

"We are in the habit of giving to our fellow creatures, and, in this way, we express our gratitude."

"But are we not bound, whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do, to do all to the glory of God?”

"Oh, the rigid measure you propose will never be applied to our

actions."

"Has not God said He will bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing whether it be good or whether it be evil? Has He not told us that a single evil desire is a breach of the commandment? Does he not command us to improve every talent to His praise?"

"But are we not to enjoy ourselves while in this world?"

We are

Yes, Dr. we are to enjoy ourselves; but not as the birds of the air, or as the beasts of the field do. We are not to expend all our energies on display, or waste all our powers in trifling. We are, says Christ, to deny ourselves, and take up our cross. to keep under our bodies and bring them into subjection. We are to glorify God in our bodies and our spirits which are His; then we shall find an enjoyment in the secret of our souls, of such a nature, as will lift us above this world with the foretaste of a better."

“Oh, I grant we are to seek for intellectual pleasures; we are to exert the powers of our minds, and rise above the mere pursuits of sense!"

"Dr. I mean the banquet of the heart with God: I mean that love, and that peace, and that hope full of immortality, which the bible talks about."

"Well, but there is certainly great satisfaction in conversing with the illustrious dead; in holding high converse with the poets and sages of antiquity; in wandering over the fields of literature, and indulging in the highborn thoughts of which the soul is capa

ble."

"The poets and the sages of antiquity tell me nothing about a Saviour. They lead me not to the joys of the Holy Ghost. My soul is athirst for God, even for the living God."

"And you would banish all these classic writers, and turn barbarian at once?"

"I would that all our young men were led more to the bible and less to the Pantheon:-more to Jesus Christ and less to Cicero: -and, as for myself, though I know their elegance of style, I am content with the gospel."

"Your nephew is incorrigible:" said the Dr. to Mr. S, the next time they met, "I can't make any thing out of him."

The manner, however, is not exactly, that which we should have preferred for such a book. We do not understand what is MARCH, 1823,-No 521.

29

meant by the dwelling which gave birth to Sydney;" nor do we approve of his "threading the vales around his humble home." Still, as we take a lively interest in the tender part of the community upon which more peculiarly devolves the arduous employment of teaching the young idea how to shoot, we recommend this little work, as calculated to promote their object.

REMARKS ON THE SPY."

We transcribe the following observations upon one of the recent productions of our press, from an Edinburgh Journal, because our readers are, no doubt, anxious to ascertain the verdict of European criticism, in this high matter; and secondly, because the article is a new evidence of what we have frequently asserted, that the better class of people on both sides of the Atlantic, are disposed to cherish those feelings which adorn the gentleman, and illustrate the life of a christian.

This publication has two claims to our notice-it is an American work of fancy, and it is a tale of America. Its absolute merit might not otherwise have attracted our attention; for it is as well to say at once that it must not be measured by the gigantic standard, of such compositions, appealed to in this country. But we should have hailed it, even had it possessed less merit than it does, both because it is a lively picture of American life, and because it is another offering to the muses, in a country where that culture is too new to have as yet greatly improved national manners and sentiments, or shed much of its benign influence either on domestic or foreign relations. The "Sketch Book" has roused us, on this side of the water, to a new interest in the progress of transatlantic talent, taste, and genius. From internal evidence, we can judge that "the Spy" is by a different hand, and we are glad of it; for we love to see, not only the proofs multiplied of the intellectual and moral exaltation of the American people, but the channels diversified for the kindly flow of that genuine sympathy between the mother country and her forisfamiliated offspring, for which a generous rivalry and cordial intercourse of genius and taste is but another name. It is, therefore, we should hold American failures, even worthy of our attention, and every attempt entitled to our critical aid and indulgent judgment.'

Having thus fairly stated Mr. Cooper's claims to notice, the reviewer then proceeds to lay before the reader an analysis of the tale, intermixed, secundo arte, with favourable specimens. The article concludes with the following estimate of the merits and defects of the work:

'We cannot say that the story we have detailed is intensely interesting; but we are, nevertheless, disposed to ascribe to it a very considerable share of merit, and although in some places it is rather forced, upon the whole, it carries the reader agreeably along from its commencement to its conclusion. It is, in no

instance improbable, and although the events do not rise out of each other as in a regularly constructed plot, they have a natural enough course in the circumstances, and serve all the purposes of characteristic painting. The author appears, however, to care less about a representation of American manners, than an exaltation of American character; and, having the pallet in his own hands, he has been tempted not to spare the colours. The picture, if overcharged, will at least serve the purpose of a standard for the American character in future, and, we may add, we could not wish our own countrymen likewise a better example; for it is a picture of the most heroic bravery, the most inflexible justice, the sternest duty, the most incorruptible integrity, the strictest faith, the purest patriotism, and the most generous romantic self-devotion. We think, however, that the grand advantage, in the well known fable, of holding the pencil, is not altogether generously used, in so far as all the specimens of the British character introduced, are brought merely to shadow out and display the American, by the most incredible contrast in the whole range of the moral world; in short, while all is wise, chivalrous, Roman, Spartan, on one side, there is not a character that is not either weak or wicked on the other. Wellmere is quite overdone. His bigamy and dastardly flight, leaving Lawton in the hands of the banditti, have no parallel. Henry Wharton is no compensation, although as brave as a British officer ought to be. His conduct, besides involving the grossest neglect of duty when he ought to have been at his post, is so much the foolish, unnecessary act of a mere boy, that its most serious consequences fail to excite our sympathies. Had there been an atom of even duty in his venture, some important as well as disinterested motive beyond a mere visit, because he had not seen his friends for a year and a half, the scene of his solemn trial would have been enhanced in value, and easily carried to a very high pitch of pathos. This de fect of object, as well as motive, attaches to the story in more particulars than one. The Singletons, for example, are pure lumber; wherefore there is no sympathy with the rise and progress of young Singleton's wounds, or Isabella's unrequited love; and we shall not be called unfeeling, when we say, that there is rather a relief to the reader when that supernumerary maid is fairly killed out of the way; there was no room for her, in the fable, more thau in the old coach; and, instead of the emotions which are created by the tragedy of a Gertrude, the truism crosses our thoughts, in spite of ourselves, that if she had stayed at home she would not have been shot. It would, again, have much added to the interest of the bold expedition of Frances to the mysterious but, that she had had a sensible errand there. She has, when she sets out, no other expectation than to see her brother, with all the chances of her visit leading to the discovery of his retreat. Had Elizabeth of Siberia, or Jeanie Deans, had an object less weighty than the pardon respectively of a father and a sister, their toils