JAMES MORIER. MR JAMES MORIER, author of a Journey through Persia, and sometime secretary of embassy to the court of Persia, embodied his knowledge of the of his inferiors, and in his family circle is generous a level with them in feeling, honesty, and the higher without kindness, and profuse without benevolence. moral qualities, were their education favourable. The Highland minister, Mr Duncan MacDow, The hero of Mr Morier's tale is an adventurer like is an admirable character, though no very prepos- Gil Blas, and as much buffeted about in the world. sessing specimen of the country pastor. Edith, the He is the son of a barber of Ispahan, and is sucheroine, is a sweet and gentle creation, and there cessively one of a band of Turkomans, a menial is strong feeling and passion in some of the scenes. servant, a pupil of the physician-royal of Persia, an In the case of masculine intellects, like those of the attendant on the chief-executioner, a religious authoress of Marriage and the great Irish novelist, devotee, and a seller of tobacco-pipes in Constanthe progress of years seems to impart greater soft- tinople. Having by stratagem espoused a rich ness and sensibility, and call forth the gentler Turkish widow, he becomes an official to the Shah; affections. Miss Ferrier died in 1854, aged seventy- and on his further distinguishing himself for his two. knowledge of the Europeans, he is appointed secretary to the mission of Mirzah Firouz, and accompanies the Persian ambassador to the court of England. In the course of his multiplied adventures, misfortunes, and escapes, the volatile unprincipled Hajji mixes with all classes, and is much in Teheran, Koordistan, Georgia, Bagdad, Constantinople, &c. The work soon became popular. The novelty of the style,' says Sir Walter Scott, 'which was at once perceived to be genuine oriental by such internal evidence as establishes the value of real old Chinathe gay and glowing descriptions of Eastern state and pageantry-the character of the poetry occasionally introduced-secured a merited welcome for the Persian picaroon. As a picture of oriental manners, the work had, indeed, a severe trial to sustain by a comparison with the then recent romance of Anastasius. But the public found appetite for both; and indeed they differ as comedy and tragedy, the deep passion and gloomy interest of Mr Hope's work being of a kind entirely different from the light and lively turn of our friend Hajji's adventures. The latter, with his morals sitting easy about him, a rogue indeed, but not a malicious one, with as much wit and cunning as enable him to dupe others, and as much vanity as to afford them perpetual means of retaliation; a sparrow-hawk, who, while he floats through the air in quest of the smaller game, is himself perpetually exposed to be pounced upon by some stronger bird of prey, interests and amuses us, while neither deserving nor expecting serious regard or esteem; and like Will Vizard of the hill, "the knave is our very good friend." Mr Morier, however, in the episode of Yusuf, the Armenian, and the account of the death of Zeenab, has successfully entered into the arena of pathetic and romantic description. The oriental scenes are the most valuable and original portions of Hajji Baba, and possess the attraction of novelty to ordinary readers, yet the account of the constant embarrassment and surprise of the Persians at English manners and customs is highly amusing. The ceremonial of the dinner-table, that seemed to them "absolutely bristling with instruments of offence,' blades of all sizes and descriptions, sufficient to have ornamented the girdles of the Shah's household, could not but puzzle those who had been accustomed simply to take everything up in their fingers. The mail-coach, the variety of our furniture and accommodation, and other domestic observances, were equally astonishing; but, above all, the want of ceremonial among our statesmen and public officers surprised the embassy. The following burst of oriental wonder and extravagance succeeds to an account of a visit paid them by the chairman and deputy-chairman of the East India Company, who came in a hackney-coach, and after the interview, walked away upon their own legs. James Morier East in a series of novels-The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan, three volumes, 1824 (with a second part published in two volumes in 1828); Zohrab, the Hostage, three volumes, 1832; Ayesha, the Maid of Kars, three volumes, 1834; and The Mirza, three volumes, 1841. The object of his first work was, he says, the single idea of illustrating Eastern manners by contrast with those of England, and the author evinces a minute and familiar acquaintance with the habits and customs of the Persians. The truth of his satirical descriptions and allusions was felt even by the court of Persia; for Mr Morier published a letter from a minister of state in that country, expressing the displeasure which the king felt at the very foolish business' of the book. It is probable, however, as the author supposes, that this irritation may lead to reflection, and reflection to amendment, as he conceived the Persians to be, in talent and natural capacity, equal to any nation in the world, and would be no less on "When they were well off, we all sat mute, only occasionally saying: 'Allah! Allah! there is but one Allah!' so wonderfully astonished were we. What! India? that great, that magnificent empire! --that scene of Persian conquest and Persian glory! -the land of elephants and precious stones, the seat of shawls and kincobs!-that paradise sung by poets, celebrated by historians more ancient than Irân itself!-at whose boundaries the sun is permitted to rise, and around whose majestic mountains, some clad in eternal snows, others in eternal verdure, the stars and the moon are allowed to gambol and carouse! What is it so fallen, so degraded, as to be swayed by two obscure mortals, living in regions that know not the warmth of the sun? Two swine-cating infidels, shaven, impure walkers on foot, and who, by way of state, travel in dirty coaches filled with straw! This seemed to us a greater miracle in government than even that of Beg Ian, the plaiter of whips, who governed the Turcomans and the countries of Samarcand and Bokhara, leading a life more like a beggar than a potentate."' Historical Tale, edited by Mr Morier. This publication caused some disappointment, as the name of the author of Hajji Baba excited expectations which The Banished did not realise. The work is a translation from the German, a tale of the Swabian league in the sixteenth century. Mr Morier died at Brighton in 1849, aged sixty-nine. JAMES BAILLIE FRASER. MR JAMES BAILLIE FRASER, like Mr Morier described the life and manners of the Persians by, fictitious as well as true narratives. In 1828 he published The Kuzzilbash, a Tale of Khorasan, three volumes, to which he afterwards added a continuation under the name of The Persian Adventurer, the title of his first work not being generally understood: it was often taken, he says, for a cookery book! The term Kuzzilbash, which is Turkish, Zohrab is a historical novel, of the time of Aga signifies Red-head, and was an appellation originally Mohammed Shah, a famous Persian prince, described given by Shah Ismael I. to seven tribes bound to by Sir John Malcolm as having taught the Russians defend their king. These tribes wore a red cap as to beat the French by making a desert before the a distinguishing mark, which afterwards became the line of the invader's march, and thus leaving the military head-dress of the Persian troops; hence enemy master of only so much ground as his cannon the word Kuzzilbash is used to express a Persian could command. This celebrated Shah is the real soldier; and often, particularly among the Toorkohero of the tale, though the honour is nominally mans and Oozbeks, is applied as a national designaawarded to Zohrab, an independent Mazanderini tion to the people in general. Mr Fraser's hero chief, who falls in love with the gentle and beautiful relates his own adventures, which begin almost Amima, niece of the Shah. The style of the work from his birth; for he is carried off while a child is light, pleasant, and animated, and it is full of by a band of Toorkoman robbers, who plunder his Persian life. Ayesha, the Maid of Kars, is inferior father's lands and village, situated in Khorasan, on to its predecessors, though certain parts-as the the borders of the great desert which stretches from description of the freebooter Corah Bey, and the the banks of the Caspian Sea to those of the river ruins of Anni, the Spectre City, the attack on the Oxus. The infant bravery of Ismael, the KuzzilRussian posts, the voyage to Constantinople, &c.-bash, interests Omer Khan, head of a tribe or camp are in the author's happiest and most graphic of the plunderers, and he spares the child, and keeps manner. In this work Mr Morier introduces a him to attend on his own son Selim. In the camp novelty he makes an English traveller, Lord of his master is a beautiful girl, daughter of a Osmond, fall in love with a Turkish maiden, and Persian captive; and with this young beauty, while the Englishman is bearing off the Maid of lovely as a child of the Peris,' Ismael forms an Kars to Constantinople, Corah Bey intercepts them, attachment that increases with their years. These and gets the lover sent off to the galleys. He is early scenes are finely described; and the misforreleased through the intercession of the English tunes of the fair Shireen are related with much ambassador, and carries his Eastern bride to Eng-pathos. The consequences of Ismael's passion force land. Ayesha, the heroine, turns out to be the daughter of Sir Edward Wortley! There are improbabilities in this story which cannot be reconciled, and the mixture of European costume and characters among the scenery and society of the East, destroys that oriental charm which is so entire and so fascinating in Zohrab. The Mirza is a series of Eastern stories, connected by an outline of fiction like Moore's Lalla Rookh. In concluding this work, Mr Morier says: 'I may venture to assert that the East, as we have known it in oriental tales, is now fast on the change-" C'est le commencement de la fin." Perhaps we have gleaned the last of the beards, and obtained an expiring glimpse of the heavy caoûk and the ample shalwar ere they are exchanged for the hat and the spruce pantaloon. How wonderful is it-how full of serious contemplation is the fact, that the whole fabric of Mohammedanism should have been assailed, almost suddenly as well as simultaneously, by events which nothing human could have foreseen. Barbary, Egypt, Syria, the banks of the Euphrates and Tigris, the Red Sea, Constantinople, Asia Minor, Persia, and Afghanistan, all more or less have felt the influence of European or anti-Mohammedan agencies. Perhaps the present generation may not see a new structure erected, but true it is they have seen its foundations laid.' In 1838 appeared The Banished, a Swabian him to flee. He assumes the dress of the Kuzzil- A brief but characteristic scene-a meeting of two warriors in the desert-is strikingly described, though the reader is probably impressed with the idea that European thoughts and expressions mingle with the author's narrative: [Meeting of Eastern Warriors in the Desert.] By the time I reached the banks of this stream the sun had set, and it was necessary to seek some retreat where I might pass the night and refresh myself and my horse without fear of discovery. Ascending the river-bed, therefore, with this intention, I soon found a recess where I could repose myself, surrounded by green 497 pasture, in which my horse might feed; but as it would have been dangerous to let him go at large all night, I employed myself for a while in cutting the longest and thickest of the grass which grew on the banks of the stream for his night's repast, permitting him to pasture at will until dark; and securing him then close to the spot I meant to occupy, after a moderate meal, I commended myself to Allah, and lay down to rest. it is not thy arrows or thy bow, no, nor thy sword and The following passage, describing the Kuzzilbash's return to his native village, affects us both by the view which it gives of the desolation caused in half-barbarous countries by war and rapine, and the beautiful strain of sentiment which the author puts into the mouth of his hero: The loud neighing of my horse awoke me with a start, as the first light of dawn broke in the east. Quickly springing on my feet, and grasping my spear and scimitar, which lay under my head, I looked around for the cause of alarm. Nor did it long remain doubt-it, with his matchlock, upon the turf a little way from ful; for, at the distance of scarce two hundred yards, I saw a single horseman advancing. To tighten my girdle round my loins, to string my bow, and prepare two or three arrows for use, was but the work of a few moments; before these preparations, however, were completed, the stranger was close at hand. Fitting an arrow to my bow, I placed myself upon guard, and examined him narrowly as he approached. He was a man of goodly stature and powerful frame; his countenance hard, strongly marked, and furnished with a thick black beard, bore testimony of exposure to many a blast, but it still preserved a prepossessing expression of good-humour and benevolence. His turban, which was formed of a cashmere shawl, sorely tashed and torn, and twisted here and there with small steel chains, according to the fashion of the time, was wound around a red cloth cap that rose in four peaks high above the head. His oemah, or riding coat, of crimson cloth, much stained and faded, opening at the bosom, shewed the links of a coat-of-mail which he wore below; a yellow shawl formed his girdle; his huge shulwars, or riding trousers, of thick fawn-coloured Kerman woollen stuff, fell in folds over the large red leather boots in which his legs were cased; by his side hung a crooked scimitar in a black leather scabbard, and from the holsters of his saddle peeped out the but-ends of a pair of pistols-weapons of which I then knew not the use, any more than of the matchlock which was slung at his back. He was mounted on a powerful but jaded horse, and appeared to have already travelled far. When this striking figure had approached within thirty yards, I called out in the Turkish language, commonly used in the country: 'Whoever thou art, come no nearer on thy peril, or I shall salute thee with this arrow from my bow!' 'Why, boy,' returned the stranger in a deep manly voice, and speaking in the same tongue, 'thou art a bold lad, truly! but set thy heart at rest, I mean thee no harm. Nay,' rejoined I, 'I am on foot, and alone. I know thee not, nor thy intentions. Either retire at once, or shew thy sincerity by setting thyself on equal terms with me: dismount from thy steed, and then I fear thee not, whatever be thy designs. Beware!' And so saying, I drew my arrow to the head, and pointed it towards him. By the head of my father!' cried the stranger, 'thou art an absolute youth! but I like thee well; thy heart is stout, and thy demand is just; the sheep trusts not the wolf when it meets him in the plain, nor do we acknowledge every stranger in the desert for a friend. See,' continued he, dismounting actively, yet with a weight that made the turf ring again-see, I yield my advantage; as for thy arrows, boy, I fear them not.' With that, he slung a small shield, which he bore at his back, before him, as if to cover his face, in case of treachery on my part, and leaving his horse where it stood, he advanced to me. Taught from my youth to suspect and to guard against treachery, I still kept a wary eye on the motions of the stranger. But there was something in his open though rugged countenance and manly bearing that claimed and won my confidence. Slowly I lowered my hand, and relaxed the still drawn string of my bow, as he strode up to me with a firm composed step. 'Youth,' said he, had my intentions been hostile, [Desolation of War.] We continued for some time longer, riding over a track once fertile and well cultivated, but now returned to its original desolation. The wild pomegranate, the thorn, and the thistle, grew high in the fields, and overran the walls that formerly enclosed them. At length we reached an open space, occupied by the ruins of a large walled village, among which a square building, with walls of greater height, and towers at each corner, rose particularly conspicuous. As we approached this place I felt my heart stirred within me, and my whole frame agitated with a secret and indescribable emotion; visions of past events seemed hovering dimly in my memory, but my sensations were too indistinct and too confused to be intelligible to myself. At last a vague idea shot through my brain, and thrilled like a fiery arrow in my heart; with burning cheeks and eager eyes I looked towards my companion, and saw his own bent keenly upon me. 'Knowest thou this spot, young man?' said he, after a pause: if thy memory does not serve thee, cannot thy heart tell thee what walls are these?' I gasped for breath, but could not speak. Yes, Ismael,' continued he, 'these are the ruined walls of thy father's house; there passed the first days of thy childhood; within that broken tower thy eyes first saw the light! But its courts are now strewed with the unburied dust of thy kindred, and the foxes and wolves of the desert rear their young among its roofless chambers. These are the acts of that tribe to which thou hast so long been in bondage-such is the debt of blood which cries out for thy vengeance!' I checked my horse to gaze on the scene of my infant years, and my companion seemed willing to indulge me. Is it indeed true, as some sages have taught, that man's good angel hovers over the place of his birth, and dwells with peculiar fondness on the innocent days of his childhood? and that in after-years of sorrow and of crime she pours the recollection of those pure and peaceful days like balm over the heart, to soften and improve it by their influence? How could it be, without some agency like this, that, gazing thus unexpectedly on the desolate home of my fathers, the violent passions, the bustle, and the misery of later years, vanished from my mind like a dream; and the scenes and feelings of my childhood came fresh as yesterday to my remembrance? I heard the joyous clamour of my little brothers and sisters; our games, our quarrels, and our reconciliations, were once more present to me; the grave smile of my father, the kind but eternal gabble of my good old nurse; and, above all, the mild sweet voice of my beloved mother, as she adjusted our little disputes, or soothed our childish sorrows-all rushed upon my mind, and for a while quite overpowered me: I covered my face with my hands and wept in silence. Besides his Eastern tales, Mr Fraser wrote a story of his native country, The Highland Smugglers, in which he displays the same talent for description, with much inferior powers in constructing a probable or interesting narrative. He died at his seat at Moniack, Inverness-shire, in 1856, aged seventy-three. THEODORE EDWARD HOOK. THEODORE EDWARD HOOK, a late fashionable and copious novelist, was born in London, September 22, 1788. He was the son of a distinguished musical Turook composer; and at the early age of sixteen-after an imperfect course of education at Harrow School-he became a sort of partner in his father's business of music and song. In 1805 he composed a comic opera, The Soldier's Return, the overture and music, as well as the dialogues and songs, entirely by himself. The opera was highly successful, and young Theodore was ready next year with another after-piece, Catch Him Who Can, which exhibited the talents of Liston and Mathews in a popular and effective light, and had a great run of success. Several musical operas were then produced in rapid succession by Hook, as The Invisible Girl, Music Mad, Darkness Visible, Trial by Jury, The Fortress, Tekeli, Exchange no Robbery, and Killing no Murder. Some of these still keep possession of the stage, and evince wonderful knowledge of dramatic art, musical skill, and literary powers in so young an author. They were followed (1808) by a novel which has been described as a mere farce in a narrative shape. The remarkable conversational talents of Theodore Hook, and his popularity as a writer for the stage, led him much into society. Flushed with success, full of the gaiety and impetuosity of youth, and conscious of his power to please and even fascinate in company, he surrendered himself up to the enjoyment of the passing hour, and became noted for his 'boisterous buffooneries,' his wild sallies of wit and drollery, and his practical hoaxes. Amongst his various talents was one which, though familiar in some other countries, whose language affords it facilities, has hitherto been rare, if not unknown in ours, namely the power of improvisatising, or extemporaneous composition of songs and music. Hook would at table turn the whole conversation of the evening into a song, sparkling with puns or witty allusions, and perfect in its rhymes. 'He accompanied himself,' says Lockhart, in the Quarterly Review, 'on the pianoforte, and the music was frequently, though not always, as new as the verse. He usually stuck to the common ballad measures; but one favourite sport was a mimic opera, and then he seemed to triumph without effort over every variety of metre and complication of stanza. About the complete extemporaneousness of the whole there could rarely be the slightest doubt.' This power of extempore verse seems to have been the wonder of all Hook's associates; it astonished Sheridan, Coleridge, and the most illustrious of his contemporaries, who used to hang delighted over such rare and unequivocal manifestations of genius. Hook had been introduced to the prince-regent, afterwards George IV., and in 1812 he received the appointment of accomptant-general and treasurer to the colony of the Mauritius, with a salary of about £2000 per annum. This handsome provision he enjoyed for five years. The duties of the office were, however, neglected, and an examination being made into the books of the accomptant, various irregularities, omissions, and discrepancies were detected. There was a deficiency of a large amount, and Hook was ordered home under the charge of a detachment of military. Thus a dark cloud hung over him for the remainder of his life; but it is believed that he was in reality innocent of all but gross negligence. On reaching London in 1819, he was subjected to a scrutiny by the Audit Board, which did not terminate until after the lapse of nearly five years. He was then pronounced to be liable to the crown for the deficit of £12,000. In the meantime he laboured assiduously at literature as a profession. He became, in 1820, editor of the John Bull newspaper, which he made conspicuous for its advocacy of high aristocratic principles, some virulent personalities, and much wit and humour. His political songs were generally admired for their point and brilliancy of fancy. In 1823, after the award had been given finding him a debtor to the crown in the sum mentioned, Hook was arrested, and continued nearly two years in confinement. His literary labours went on, however, without interruption, and in 1824, appeared the first series of his tales, entitled Sayings and Doings, which were so well received that the author was made £2000 richer by the production. In 1825, he issued a second series, and shortly after that publication he was released from custody, with an intimation, however, that the crown abandoned nothing of its claim for the Mauritius debt. The popular novelist now pursued his literary career with unabated diligence and spirit. In 1828, he published a third series of Sayings and Doings; in 1830, Maxwell; in 1832, The Life of Sir David Baird; in 1833, The Parson's a poetical romance, entitled Philibert, which was Daughter, and Love and Pride. In 1836, he became smoothly versified, but possessed no great merit. In editor of the New Monthly Magazine, and contributed 1823 appeared his Highways and Byways, tales of to its pages, in chapters, Gilbert Gurney, and the continental wandering and adventure, written in a far inferior sequel, Gurney Married, each afterwards light, picturesque, and pleasing manner. These collected into a set of three volumes. In 1837, were so well received that the author wrote a second appeared Jack Brag; in 1839, Births, Deaths, and series, published in 1824, and a third in 1827. In Marriages; Precepts and Practice; and Fathers and 1830 he came forth with a novel in four volumes, Sons. His last avowed work, Peregrine Bunce, sup- The Heiress of Bruges, a Tale of the Year Sixteen posed not to have been wholly written by him, Hundred. The plot of this work is connected with appeared some months after his death. The pro- the attempts made by the Flemish to emancipate duction of thirty-eight volumes within sixteen themselves from the foreign sway of Spain, in which years the author being all the while editor, and they were assisted by the Dutch, under Prince almost sole writer, of a newspaper, and for several Maurice. Mr Grattan is author also of Tales of years the efficient conductor of a magazine- Travel, and histories of the Netherlands and of certainly affords, as Mr Lockhart remarks, suffi- Switzerland. As a writer of fiction, a power of vivid cient proof that he never sank into idleness. At description and observation of nature appears to be the same time Theodore Hook was the idol of Mr Grattan's principal merit. His style is often the fashionable circles, and ran a heedless round diffuse and careless; and he does not seem to have of dissipation. Though in the receipt of a large laboured successfully in constructing his stories. income-probably not less than £3000 per annum- His pictures of ordinary life in the French provinces, by his writings, he became involved in pecuniary as he wandered among the highways and byways embarrassments; and an unhappy connection which of that country with a cheerful observant spirit, he had formed, yet dared not avow, entailed upon noting the peculiarities of the people, are his him the anxieties and responsibilities of a family. happiest and most original efforts. Parts of a diary which he kept have been published, and there are passages in it disclosing his struggles, his alternations of hope and despair, and his everdeepening distresses and difficulties, which are inexpressibly touching as well as instructive. At length, overwhelmed with difficulties, his children unprovided for, and himself a victim to disease and exhaustion before he had completed his fifty-third year, he died at Fulham on the 24th of August 1842. The works of Theodore Hook are very unequal, and none of them perhaps display the rich and varied powers of his conversation. He was thoroughly acquainted with English life in the higher and middle ranks, and his early familiarity with the stage had taught him the effect of dramatic situations and pointed dialogue. The theatre, however, is not always a good school for taste in composition, and Hook's witty and tragic scenes and contrasts of character are often too violent in tone, and too little discriminated. Hence, though his knowledge of highlife was undoubted, and his powers of observation rarely surpassed, his pictures of existing manners seem to wear an air of caricature, imparted insensibly by the peculiar habits and exuberant fancy of the novelist. His pathos is often overdone, and his mirth and joyousness carried into the regions of farce. He is very felicitous in exposing all ridiculous pretences and absurd affectation, and in such scenes his polished ridicule and the practical sagacity of the man of the world, conversant with its different ranks and artificial distinctions, are strikingly apparent. We may collect from his novels -especially the Sayings and Doings, which were carefully written-as correct a notion of English society in certain spheres in the nineteenth century, as Fielding's works display of the manners of the eighteenth. To regularity of fable he made little pretension, and we suspect he paid little attention to style. He aimed at delineation of character-at striking scenes and situations-at reflecting the language and habits of actual life-and all this he successfully accomplished as respects that conventional world of which he was a worshipper. MR T. H. LISTER, a gentleman of rank and aristocratic connections, was author of three novels, descriptive of the manners of the higher classes; namely, Granby, 1826; Herbert Lacy, 1827; and Arlington, 1832. These works are pleasingly written, and may be considered as affording correct pictures of domestic society, but they possess no features of novelty or originality to preserve them for another generation. A strain of graceful reflection, in the style of the essays in the Mirror and Lounger, is mingled with the tale, and shews the author to have been a man of refined and cultivated taste and feeling. In 1838 Mr Lister published a Memoir of the Life and Administration of the Earl of Clarendon, in three volumes, a work of considerable talent and research, in preparing which the author had access to documents and papers unknown to his predecessors. Mr Lister died in June 1842, at which time he held the government appointment of Registrargeneral of births, marriages, and deaths. following brief description in Granby may be compared with Mr Wordsworth's noble sonnet composed upon Westminster Bridge: [London at Sunrise.] The Granby followed them with his eyes; and now, too full of happiness to be accessible to any feelings of jealousy or repining, after a short reverie of the purest satisfaction, he left the ball, and sallied out into the fresh cool air of a summer morning-suddenly passing from the red glare of lamplight to the clear sober brightrefreshed and exhilarated by the air of morning, and ness of returning day. He walked cheerfully onward, interested with the scene around him. It was broad daylight, and he viewed the town under an aspect in which it is alike presented to the late-retiring votary of pleasure, and to the early-rising sons of business. He stopped on the pavement of Oxford Street to conThe whole extent of that long vista, unclouded by the mid-day smoke, was distinctly template the effect. visible to his eye at once. The houses shrunk to half their span, while the few visible spires of the adjacent churches seemed to rise less distant than before, gaily tipped with early sunshine, and much diminished in THOMAS COLLEY GRATTAN-MR T. H. LISTER apparent size, but heightened in distinctness and in MARQUIS OF NORMAN BY. THOMAS COLLEY GRATTAN-born in Dublin in 1796-commenced his literary career in 1819 with beauty. Had it not been for the cool gray tint which slightly mingled with every object, the brightness wag almost that of noon. But the life, the bustle, the busy din, the flowing tide of human existence, were all |