called improbable from beginning to end, or inconsistent with the feelings of an athletic lover of sport and a traveller. It must be recollected that the wisdom of one man is raised by heavy machinery; that the spirits of another are elevated by a more mercurial process; and that such is the difference between both, that one may be totally at a loss to reconcile the tastes and habits of the other to plain reason: neither can he imagine a rational creature submitting to voluntary exile and hardships, suffering hunger and thirst, and even braving peril and death in pursuit of objects for which he himself entertains not a grain of interest. The mere matter of fact in question is so extremely simple--so obvious in its relation to cause and effect, and akin to the moral and physical qualifications of the individual concerned, that the shortest possible acquaintance, even a passing glance at his person and manners, are sufficient, even if doubt on the subject did exist, immediately to dispel it. That he did ride the crocodile, precisely in the manner he says he did, I have no manner of doubt whatever; for in fact, what was to hinder him? The beast had gorged his bait, and six or seven men were hauling at a long rope and iron hook made fast in his entrails ;-in such a predicament on he was forced to go, 110 thanks to him: kick he could not, nor was it altogether convenient to turn round to bite. The plain tale goes no farther than to say, that the animal, being in this helpless state, and so perfectly secured by trammels as to be deprived of all manner of power, the individual whose hopes and anxieties had been tantalized for three whole days and nights in the endeavour to catch him, now, in the moment of exultation, at the heel of the hunt, he, a Leicester fox-hunter, put an end to the chase by leaping on his back, and bestriding the scaly monster. So far from being an incredible event, it really seems to me just the very thing it was natural a person feras consumere natus' was likely to do: a farmer's boy risks more danger when he rides a pig; and had Mr. Elmore, the hor-e-dealer, then been present, nothing is more certain than that, had the author of the Wanderings' hesitated to throw a leg over the cayman' the former would, off-hand, have exclaimed, non insolitis verbis- Get on, Sir, he's perfectly quiet: a child might ride him.'"-pp. 154-156.

We must leave Mr. Watterton and his reptiles, his birds and beasts, and take notice of some statements more akin to the title of our author's work, but not less gratifying. He has been describing, with a feeling of veneration, a manufactory of machinery at Leeds, which seemed to him like a creation in miniature, wherein variety knew no bounds, and the devices to accomplish particular purposes, baffled his powers of detail. Nothing appears to us juster in sentiment, than certain observations suggested on the occasion in question, part of which we copy.

"There can be no spectacle more grateful to the heart of an Englishman than, viewing the interior of a manufactory of machinery, to observe the features of each hard-working mechanic blackened by smoke, yet radiant with the light of intelligence-to contrast with his humble station the lines of fervid thought that mark his countenance and direct his sinewy armand to reflect that to such combination of the powers of mind and body Engand owes her present state of commercial greatness. It is no less pleas

ing to consider, that although particular classes of men have suffered by the substitution of machinery for manual labour, such evils arise from the mutability of human affairs-are such as the most zealous philanthropist cannot avert; and, lastly, of themselves insignificant compared with the general demand for labour throughout the country, which has not only kept pace with the increase of machinery, but no doubt might be shewn even to have exceeded it ;-nay, it might be made manifest, that not only is the grand total of operatives employed throughout the manufacturing districts augmented, but additional employment afforded in like proportion for mechanics, to supply the wear and tear of machinery, and buildings dependent thereupon, as well as for workmen upon all works to be traced to a similar cause, such as rail-roads, bridges, viaducts, aqueducts, &c." -pp. 184, 185.

While it has been in halls like these, that the growth of science has been fostered in England, and the human mind most generally expanded, it is also true that the public have been slow to do the manufacturer justice. For instance, there has been a morbid sympathy expressed by multitudes for the operatives, which has served to throw a corresponding weight of blame upon the masters. One part of our author's testimony, when on this subject, we gladly

extract.

"With respect to the general state of the workmen, and especially the children in the factories, I certainly gained, by personal inspection, a happy release from opinions previously entertained; neither could I acknowledge those resemblances, probably the work of interested artists, by whom such touching portraits of misery and overfatigue have been from time to time embellished; I saw around me wherever I moved, on every side, a crowd of apparently happy beings, working in lofty well-ventilated buildings, with whom a comparison could no more in fairness be drawn with the solitary weaver plying his shuttle from morning to night in his close dusty den, than is the bustle and occupation of life with soul-destroying solitude." pp. 187.

The writer's mode of appreciating the services conferred by the wonderful improvements in machinery and other great works established within England of late years, finds many occasions for happy illustration. He sees a beauty even in a rail-road, and about the panting automaton that traverses it with resistless speed; and he succeeds also in attempting to add sentiment to the delineation of them. The paragraphs about to be cited afford an example.

"I remarked especially one train, consisting of upwards of a score of laden coal waggons. on their way for shipment at the mouth of the Tees. As they glided onwards, steadily but rapidly, the attitudes of the two engine-men in front were in striking contrast with the stupendous momentum of the advancing body. Impelled by a power called by themselves into action with their arms folded on their bosoms, they seemed either lost in their own reflections, or dozing life away, passively reclining in an easy posture, and whirled along with an incessant and equable velocity.

Behind the coal-waggons, the last carriage of all was a low truck, on which stood an old cart-horse quietly eating hay out of a basket. The

sagacious animal, thus left to himself, on a bare platform of boards, within a couple of feet of the ground, and without side-rail or guard of any description, displayed a consciousness of the danger of jumping out, by the mode in which he cautiously rested on his haunches, prepared by his attitude against the possible sudden contingency of a halt.

"With reference to this mode of conveying horses on the carriages, one particular instance of sagacity displayed by an animal on this line is worthy of notice. An old horse, regularly employed to draw waggons laden with lime along the level, on arriving at an inclined plane, where the carriages descend by their own gravity, his services not being required, is accordingly unhitched; on which occasion he invariably first allows the carriages to pass him, and then trotting after the train, leaps on to the low carriage of his own accord ; and he performs the feat not only without urging, but on the contrary, with so much eagerness, as to render it difficult to keep him off, though the carriage is two feet from the ground, and the progressive rate nearly five miles an hour. As a basket of hay is constantly suspended on the aforesaid carriage for his use, the only wonderful part of the ceremony is its performance, for one would imagine it difficult for a four-footed animal in such a case to preserve its equilibrium."—pp. 313-315.

Altogether, this "Home Tour" increases our love and admiration of Old England. The ingenuity, the intelligence, the virtues, and the happiness of the people, are put in a favourable light by its pages. This fine, social, and benevolent style of writing, we look upon as by far too rare, on the part of those who, to beguile their own solitary and idle hours, or the idle hours of their readers, betake themselves to the occupation. Let the discontented, the uncharitable, and the gloomy, however, regard the model that is before us. At any rate, we have nothing to express but satisfaction with the author's design or execution; and only, as respects him, hope ere long to hear him speak of his fellow-men, their works, or anything that concerns their instruction and happiness, trifling or common-place though it may be.

ART. VII.-A Summer in Spain. London: Smith, Elder, & Co. 1836. PREVIOUS to dipping into the contents of the book before us, we shall amuse ourselves for a few minutes with guessing what they are likely to be, as the title allows a slight exercise of the imagination. Whether a rich poetic ramble and research into the mysteries of the Alhambra, describing the old Moorish castles and towers that abound, and bringing into life those splendid and rare legends so plentifully attached to each, and in fact almost every ruin at home or abroad; or whether a series of miraculous adventures, and wonderful exploits, killing bandits by the score, and performing many such like prodigies, which require no slight share of faith on the part of the reader to credit, and fully keep him in mind that

tourists see and perform strange things, or at any rate relate them, and that for each, a traveller's licence is required; or, as we imagine it will prove, giving some account of that disgusting civil war which is being carried on with such inhuman and revolting cruelty, that the darkest ages of barbarism will scarcely give a parallel to the atrocities practised on both sides. But without further preamble, we shall now proceed to peruse the volume, as we do not pretend to be so clever as some reviewers, who can find out all the merits or demerits of a book by scarcely more than glancing at the title-page, and reading a few lines "here and there," for the purpose of extracts.

We have now arrived at "The End," and find it does not treat of the War as much as a journey through Spain in 1835 would lead you to expect; and we give the author's own words from the advertisement, as the perusal of the book fully justifies them, with some few exceptions.

66

He does not profess to treat of the institutions or political relations of the country, but merely to give a faithful account of what has passed under his own observation, during a residence of three months in the country."-p. v.

He arrives at Barcelona (from Marseilles), and from thence travels across the Pyrenees into France, depicting the appearance of the towns he visited-including Barcelona Valencia Madrid Saragossa San Sebastian, and many others of less note, in a very clear and distinct style, and also touching upon many traits in the characters of their inhabitants, with much truth and justice.

We extract his description of Barcelona :

"There is nothing striking in the first view of the town, if we except the fortifications, which command the mouth of the harbour: these are situated on a high promontory which overlooks the town, and constitute its principal strength. The site of Barcelona itself is so level, that little can be seen from the sea, except the walls, and the roofs of the houses, which are flat, and in general painted white. Behind the town, a range of mountains, covered with verdure to their summits, extends from north to south as far as the eye can reach."—p. 1.

We shall now accompany him into the town :

'The entrance to the town is good; on the right stands the Customhouse, on the left the Exchange, and in the centre, opposite to the gate, the Governor's house, all of which are handsome buildings. We were immediately struck with the narrowness of the streets, the want of equipages, and the strange costumes of the peasantry; but what strikes a stranger most, on his entering a Spanish town, is the air of perfect repose which every thing around him bears: there is no bustle in the streets, except at the hour of promenade, and every one you meet seems to have his time and his person entirely at his own disposal.

." After following our guide for about ten minutes through the most

confined part of the town, we emerged into the principal street. It is broad and handsome, and extends about a mile in length; the centre is appropriated entirely to foot-passengers, and the sides to carriages, which seems rather a singular arrangement; it is ornamented on either side by a row of poplars."-pp. 2, 3.

In his visit to the Public Walk, he praises the Catalonian belles for continuing their graceful national dress, and, as he says "resisting the temptations of Fashion and Novelty-two deities which rule their blue-eyed sisters in the north." The Opera in Barcelona he speaks of as the best in Spain; and so different is it from the empty benches so frequently beheld here, that a stranger has no chance of a box but through the Governor, who always keeps a few tickets for the accommodation of privileged strangers.

We extract the following, as a pleasing prospect for timid gentlemen about to travel in Spain with valuables in their possession; and as it also speaks much for the terrible state of mismanagement in which the country must be, where such scenes are allowed to take place so repeatedly.

The direct road from Barcelona to Madrid, lies through Saragossa and Aragon; but having heard that the diligence from Saragossa to Barcelona was robbed about once a fortnight, we determined to keep the co. st, and proceed by Tarragona and Valencia. I n.et a person who had een robbed on his way from Saragossa a few days before. He described the process, which appears a very simple one. The diligence

was stopped in a sequestered part of the road, by about thirty armed men, who ordered the passengers to give up instantly all their money, jewels, ard other valuables; they likewise seized the linen, for shirts are rare amongst the mountains of Aragon-but they left the rest of their baggage, and no violence was used."— p. 12.

This is his description of Tarragona, which in some respects will apply to almost the whole of Spain.

Tarragona, the Roman capital of Spain for six hundred years, is now a dull, deserted-looking town; the walls, which are of great strength, are partly ancient, and bear the cruel marks of many a bloody field, particularly on the western side. There are several antiquities in the neighbourhood; a Roman aqueduct, said to have been erected by Trajan, still supplies the town, and there are considerable remains of an extensive building near the Barcelona gate, which our guide told us was once the palace of Augustus, who was king of Spain many years ago.'"-p. 17. The following is a pretty specimen of Spanish liberty, even under the liberal government.

"The power of the police appears to be as unmited, as in the most despotic countries. A few nights after cur arrival, whilst we were at supper, the waiter came into the room and told one of the party, a stu dent from Valladolid, apparently under twenty, that some one wished to see him; he went out, but did not return; and the landlord told us after