sition of which we desiderate in Mr. Keble's analysis of poetry, will be found to be not merely present, but even essential.

We may further remark, that if poetry be, as Mr. Keble truly states, a mode which the human heart has recourse to in order to relieve itself of its deeper emotions, then it may from this hypothesis be inferred, that poetry involves the element which we have now been speaking of; for this relief is most effectually gained, when the mind is able to repose in the contemplation of an objective image of its feeling which is in itself pleasing; and it becomes pleasing by blending in its structure what is gratifying to the taste.

We close our somewhat extended article by observing, that it is this principle which, along with that of reserve before referred to, fully explains the employment by poets of rhythm or metre; for the connexion existing between harmony and sweetness of sounds and the perception of beauty is of course obvious.

Art. III. Songs for the Nursery. Glasgow, David Robertson: London, Longman and Co. 1844.

THE love of song is instinctive to childhood. Rhyme has a special charm for it. The repetition of the same sounds both gratifies the ear and excites the memory. We hope never to be the victims of that callousness of heart, which can hear unmoved the shrill voices of buoyant children engaged in brisk, though rather tumultuous concert. We confess we have a peculiar relish for that melody which is made in the nursery, and therefore made in the heart-which is formed upon the tongue untaught to guile-and is the ready creation of that period of happy, tuneful simplicity

When thought is speech, and speech is truth.

These Songs' are not the senseless jingles which often pass under the name of nursery rhymes. They are not a collection of such snatches and ditties-the remnant of the superstitious legends, and fables of the olden times of darkness and deception. We know not whether the absurdity or the cruelty be greater of instilling into children's minds those idle stories of wizard, fairy, or demon, which too often cling to memory through life, and are the source of much annoyance and misery to the young and confiding heart. The celebrated Dr. Reid, the Scotch metaphysician, had been so trained in these silly notions, that he could not at any time of his life

enter a dark room without feeling some vague terror, without experiencing a transient shudder creep over him from some undefinable source. But the songs in the book before us are original compositions. Each one of them has a wholesome moral, or illustrates some salutary proverb or maxim. The poetry is racy and picturesque-quite simple enough for a child to understand, yet fitted to exercise the mind, and elevate the feelings. Many of these songs remind us in pathos and lyric power of the best and purest lays of Burns. They are the compositions of different authors, and vary of course in merit. Yet having been written expressly for this publication, all of them keep the primary design in view; and the majority of them are not surpassed in humour or imagery, in spirit or mechanism, by any compositions that have of late issued from the Scottish press.

These rhymes are in Scotch-no objection certainly to their reception north of the Tweed. The Scotch is not a vulgar provincial dialect, rude and uncouth, such as abounds in many of the counties of England. It is more an independent dialect than English, is far purer, has far more of the features of its Saxon ancestry, and has not mixed up with its vocabulary so many foreign terms from Norman-French and Latin. It approximates in sound and meaning the most classic of European tongues, the language of Luther and Goethe. As Lord Jeffrey also remarks, the Scotch is in reality a highly poetical language, and it is an ignorant as well as illiberal prejudice, which would seek to confound it with the barbarous dialects of Yorkshire or Devon.' Even in England it is advantageous to know Scotch, the Waverley novels cannot be relished without it. And the English lawyer, in the higher walks of his profession, when appeals are made from Scotland to the House of Lords, must be versant in this antique tongue. So that the language of these songs does not by any means preclude their circulation in the south. An excellent glossary both for pronunciation and meaning is appended to the poems. The best of these songs have been often quoted. We shall merely cite as a specimen two of those that have not obtained such newspaper

The next is not of so ambitious a style, and inculcates kind

ness to animals.

THE BIRD'S NEST.

AIR- John Anderson, my jo.'

'O wha would harry the wee bird's nest,
That sings so sweet and clear,
That bigs for its young a cozy biel',
In the spring-time o' the year;
That feeds its gapin' gorlins a',
And haps them frae the rain-
O wha would harry the wee bird's nest,
Or gi'e its bosom pain?

I wouldna harry the lintie's nest,
That whistles on the spray;

I wouldna rob the lav'rock,

That sings at break of day;

I wouldna rob the shilfa,

That chants so sweet at e'en;
Nor yet would I wee Jenny Wren,
Within her bower o' green.

For birdies are like bairnies,
That dance upon the lea;
And they winna sing in cages
So sweet 's in bush or tree.
They're just like bonny bairnies,
That mithers lo'e sae weel-
An' cruel, cruel is the heart

That would their treasures steal.'

We commend these 'Songs' to every family, and trust that the authors and publisher will not need to complain that they have laboured in vain.

Art. IV. 1. Essays on Natural History, chiefly Ornithology. By Charles Waterton, Esq., author of Wanderings in South America. Second Series: with a continuation of the Autobiography of the author. Longman & Co. 1844. 12mo., pp. cxlii. 186.

2. Elements of Natural History, for the use of schools and young persons comprising the principles of Classification, etc. By Mrs. R. Lee (formerly Mrs. J. E. Bowdich): author of the Memoirs of Cuvier,' &c. Illustrated with Engravings on wood. 12mo. Longman & Co. 1844. pp. 485.

SECTS Spring up in everything. Even natural history has given rise to fierce disputes in which truth has in too many cases, we fear, been sacrificed to the desire of victory, and the students of

the science have banded themselves together, in various parties, supporting their favourite leaders. To a looker-on, the intense interest which these controversies excite is not a little amusing. There are no great principles at stake-but the habits of some bird, the arrangement of certain groups of animals, or even the mode of preserving their skins, will often furnish the subject of a contest, carried on with a warmth of feeling bordering on animosity. Then, too, the different departments of natural science, and the modes of its study, are regarded very oppositely by different minds. Thus, naturalists, like the objects of their regard, might be duly classified into a variety of groups. There are the systematists,―men who are so intent upon finding the exact place which an animal occupies in the order of creation, as to be in a great measure indifferent to its economy. Of these, Mr. Swainson may be regarded as a fair example. Then there are the comparative anatomists, whose chief attention is devoted to the structure of beings considered in relation to their habits. It was in this particular department that Cuvier was so illustrious, and his mantle has fallen upon Richard Owen. The third large group of naturalists comprises the observers of the habits of animals, who care little for either system or physiology, but who seek materials for their study in the fields and in the woods often wandering, as Charles Waterton has done, to distant climes in search of their favourite enjoyment.

There can be no doubt that all these modes of study are beneficial, but they are rarely exhibited in due combination, by the same individual. Closet and field studies seem to require faculties and dispositions of a very different order. Mrs. Lee, in her Elements of Natural History,' very properly seeks to impress the minds of her readers with the importance of all the three departments, as adopting the principles of classification, based upon Cuvier's structural discoveries, she devotes a considerable portion of her volume to interesting accounts of the habits of animals, extracted from the writings of our best field naturalists.

The least useful of the above departments of labour we believe to be that of the systematist. A certain amount of classification is of course absolutely necessary, but it is frequently carried to an extreme; undue importance being attached to it, and, as in the case of Mr. Swainson's system, its very complication defeats its object. We fear that the endless divisions, and subdivisions, with their compound technicalities, have done much to impede the study of nature, by veiling its attractions beneath an uncouth phraseology. Men like Cuvier and Owen, although not negligent of classification, possess far higher capabilities, and their labours are of permanent value.