Notes On Liter Pure, Science, And Art.

dry and tedious handbooks , trade journals , and scientific reports , the mass of Avhich are briefly glanced at and then go for Avaste paper , as most dry-as-dust books have in all ages , and will ever continue to'do . If authors mean to be read , they must first

feel that they have really got something to say , ancl then take care that they say it in a . vay that their readers are likely not only to understand , but also to be interested in . Judging by the three volumes of the series now before methe editor ' s

as-, sertion , that " all these facts are gathered together and presented in as readable a form as is compatible Avith accuracy and a freedom from superficiality , " is a true one , I propose in future " Notes , " glancing at each treatise from time to time .

There have been many men ivhose memoirs Avould have been interesting if faithfully Avritten , but few that I knoAV of would teach men self-reliance more than

those of my Lancashire friend , Joseph ChattAvood , nor show more vividly that getting on in the Avorld may be bought too dear . Under more favourable circumstances he Avould have been a vigorous writer ; but lie did not believe in starving

on authorship . His lines Avritten at the grave of Wordsworth sliOAved the true ring of poetry ; and some unpublished prose pieces Avhich he read me many years ago , characterising the Lancashire of the past , ought not to be lost to the Avorld . As

founder of the Manchester Literary Club , he is not likely to be soon forgotten . Since his removal from Bury to Park Bank , Higher Broughton , Manchester , though worldly prosperity has smiled upon him , the broken health of the indomitable worker

prevented him from properly enjoying it , and he died at Southport , on the 18 th of November last , aged 54 years . He Avas interred in the pretty churchyard of Prest-Avich , beside our mutual friend , Charles Swain . I Avell remember Swain aud I

standing to admire the beautiful wild hyacinths in Prestwich churchyard . May they long bloom brightly on his grave , ancl on that of our friend Chattwood ! What a thinning have the darts of death made in a feAV years in the ranks of my Lancashire literary friends ! Poets must die like others .

John Bolton Eogerson , John Critchley Prince , George Smith , Bro . William Martin , Samuel Bamford , Charles SAvain , and Joseph Chattwood have all " gone over to the ma-

Notes On Liter Pure, Science, And Art.

jority . " - All seem so many warnings to remind me that my own time Avill be short in this life , and should be energetically employed in Avorking for noble objects ; so that , as the perfect ashler is fit only to he tried by the square ancl compasses , my own mind in the decline of years , after a

regular and Avell-spent life in acts of p iety ancl virtue , may be tried and approved by the square of God ' s word ancl the compasses of my OAVU self-convincing conscience , as becomes a time Craftsman . So mote it be ! A monthly periodical Avas commenced in Hull , in May last , under the title of the

" Mercury , " for stamp ancl coin collectors , edited by Mr . George W . Mortimer ancl Mr . W . Laird CloAves . Though containing some useful papers , the periodical Avould only interest a limited portion of the reading public . I am , therefore , glad to

observe that its area has been Avidened , so as to include all sorts of antiquities , ancl its title changed to that of the " Archcecilogist . " Surely the good folks of Hull alone ought to be able to support , both Avith literary matter and by their purses , a

publication which is only the price of a glass of ordinary bitter beer once a month . Nevertheless , the publication is far from being a local archteologist , ancl I hope will succeed . Pose Cottage , Stokesley .

The Sleeping Beauty.

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY .

( FLETCHER , 1596 ) . Oh , fair sweet face I oh , eyes celestial bright , TAVIU stars in heaven , that UOAV adorn the night !

Oh , fruitful lips , AAdiere cherries ever grow , And damask cheeks , Avhere all sAveet beauties bloAv ! Oh thou , from head to foot divinely fair ! Cupid ' s most cunning nets made of that hair ;

Ancl as he Aveaves himself on curious eyes , "Ohme , oh me , I ' m caught myself ! " he cries : SAveet rest about thee , sweet ancl golden sleep , Soft peaceful thoughts your hourly Avatches

keep , Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice , To beauty sacred , and those augel eyes !