the amount of text, and taken, the most of them, from Burk's Virginia

66

as before.

It is very difficult to keep one's countenance when reviewing such a work as this; but we will do our best, for the truth's sake, and put on as serious a face as the case will admit.

The leading fault of Powhatan," then, is precisely what its author supposes to be its principal merit.

It would be difficult," he says, in that pitiable preface, in which he has so exposed himself, "to find a poem that embodies more truly the spirit of history, or indeed that follows out more faithfully many of its details." It would, indeed; and we are very sorry to say it. The truth is, Mr. Downing has never dreamed of any artistic arrangement of his facts. He has gone straight forward like a blind horse, and turned neither to the one side nor to the other, for fear of stumbling. But he gets them all in, every one of them— the facts we mean. Powhatan never did anything in his life, we are sure, that Mr. Downing has not given in his poem. He begins at the beginning, and goes on steadily to the end, painting away at his story, just as a sign-painter at a sign; beginning at the left-hand side of his board, and plastering through to the right. But he has omitted one very ingenious trick of the signpainter. He has forgotten to write under his portrait,

"this is a pig," and thus there is some danger of mistaking it for an opossum.

But we are growing scurrilous, in spite of our promise, and must put on a sober visage once more. It is a hard thing, however, when we have to read and write about such doggrel as this:

[Quotation.]

or lines to that effect - we wish we could remember the words. The part, however, about

is not quite original with Mr. Downing- is it? We merely ask for information.

thing about

Have we not heard some

"An old crow sitting on a hickory limb,

Who winked at me, and I winked at him."

The simple truth is, Mr. Downing never committed a greater mistake in his life than when he fancied himself a poet, even in the ninety-ninth degree. We doubt whether he could distinctly state the difference between an epic and an epigram. And it will not do for him to appeal from the critic to the common readers, because we assure him that his book is a very uncommon book. We never saw any one so uncommonly bad, nor one about whose parturition so uncommon a fuss has been made, so little to the satisfaction of common sense. Your poem is a curiosity, Mr. Jack Downing; your "Metrical Romance" is

not worth a single half sheet of the pasteboard upon which it is printed. This is our humble and honest opinion; and, although honest opinions are not very plentiful just now, you can have ours at what it is worth. But we wish, before parting, to ask you one question. What do you mean by that motto from Sir Philip Sidney upon the title-page? "He cometh to you with a tale that holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney-corner.” What do you mean by it, we say? Either you cannot intend to apply it to the "tale" of Powhatan, or else all the

old

" in your particular neighbourhood must be very old men; and all the little children" a set of dunder-headed little ignoramuses.

A GRAMMAR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, IN A SERIES of Letters, ADDRESSED TO EVERY AMERICAN YOUTH. BY HUGH A. Pue. PHILADELPHIA, PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR.

[Text: Grabam's Magazine, July, 1841.]

THIS is the title of a queer little book, which its author regards as "not only necessary, but urgently called for," because not only "the mass of the people are ignorant of English Grammar, but because those who profess great knowledge of it, and even those who make the teaching of it their business, will be found, upon examination, to be very far from understanding its principles."

Whether Mr. P. proceeds upon the safe old plan of Probo meliora, deteriora sequor, whether he is one of the mass," and means to include himself among the ignoramuses, or whether he is only a desperate

quiz, we shall not take it upon ourselves to say; but the fact is clear that, in a Preface of less than two small duodecimo pages (the leading object of which seems to be an eulogy upon one William Cobbett), he has given us some half dozen distinct instances of bad Grammar.

For these purposes, says he that is to say the purposes of instructing mankind and enlightening every American youth" without exception — “for these purposes, I have written my lessons in a series of letters. A mode that affords more opportunity for plainness, familiarity, instruction, and entertainment, than any other. A mode that was adopted by Chesterfield, in his celebrated instructions on politeness. A mode that was adopted by Smollett, in many of his novels, which, even at this day, hold a distinguished place in the world of fiction. A mode that was adopted by William Cobbett, not only in his admirable treatise on English Grammar, but in nearly every work that he wrote. "To Mr. Cobbett," adds the instructor of every American youth Mr. Cobbett I acknowledge myself indebted for the greater part of the grammatical knowledge which I possess. Of the fact stated there can be no question. Nobody but Cobbett could have been the grammatical Mentor of Mr. Pue, whose book (which is all Cobbett) speaks plainly upon the point; nothing but the ghost of William Cobbett, looking over the shoulder of Hugh A. Pue, could have inspired the latter gentleman with the bright idea of stringing together four consecutive sentences, in each of which the leading nominative noun is destitute of a verb.

"to

Mr. Pue may attempt to justify his phraseology here, by saying that the several sentences, quoted above, com

mencing with the words "A mode," are merely continuations of the one beginning "For these purposes"; but this is no justification at all. By the use of the period, he has rendered each sentence distinct, and each must be examined as such, in respect to its grammar. We are only taking the liberty of condemning Mr. P. by the words of his own mouth. Turning to

page 72, where he treats of punctuation, we read as follows: "The full point is used at the end of every complete sentence; and a complete sentence is a collection of words making a complete sense, without being dependent upon another collection of words to convey the full meaning intended." Now, what kind of a meaning can we give to such a sentence as "A mode that was adopted by Chesterfield in his celebrated instructions on politeness" if we are to have "no dependence upon❞ the sentences that precede it? But, even in the supposition that these five sentences had been run into one, as they should have been, they would still be ungrammatical. For example, For these purposes I have written my lessons in a series of letters a mode that affords more opportunity for plainness, familiarity, instruction, and entertainment than any other a mode, etc." This would have been the proper method of punctuation. "A mode" is placed in apposition with "a series of letters." But it is evident that it is not the series of letters" which is the "mode." It is the writing of the lessons in a series which is so. Yet, in order that the noun "mode" can be properly placed in apposition with what precedes it, this latter must be either a noun, or a sentence, which, taken collectively, can serve as one. Thus, in any shape, all that we have quoted is bad grammar.

We say

"bad grammar" and say it through sheer