THE PORTFOLIO. Being the son of Eolus, I thought raising the wind in any way that I thought proper. Theseus, however, the Joseph Hume only exercised my legitimate privilege in of those days, thought otherwise, and testified his objections to my estimates, not by moving in the committee, but by moving his arm, in which was a stronger bludgeon than my own, and sending me in less than two minutes to the shades below. My descent to these regions was pretty rapid, and I was environed as I went down by legions of my former victims, men whose heads I had only Macadamised. Have a care, my friend, how you come into these parts, for as sure as fate you will no sooner make your appearance, than you will be saluted with the ghost of a shower of stones about your ears; of stones whose metal bodies you crushed and pulverized, for the profane purpose of enabling carriages to go softly down Whitehall or Regent Street. You know the pitiless destiny which awaited me here; at this very moment my hand is employed in rolling up a hill the fatal stone, which, as it has incessantly done for so many centuries, immediately rolls back upon my head; while my lips are dictating to a tender-hearted devil, who strongly sympathises with me, this epistle for your especial perusal. My immediate purpose in writing to you, is to beg the favor of your kind offices in endeavouring to persuade Pluto to introduce your system of road-making into his dominions. If you would induce him so to do, I have no doubt that the stone which I am condemned to roll, would be immediately seized upon, and by the assistance of a few able-bodied Cyclops, reduced to the finest powder in less than a minute. and how much gratitude, my dear Mr. Macadam, would he feel for you. Then how would Sisyphus rejoice, and print your puffs, and stick them up myself on every wall in Brandipolis. I would I would write contrive to get into the Acheronian Parliament, for the express purpose of moving an annual grant to you. Really, I think, if you were to stir in this business, you would infallibly succeed. You might tell Pluto, that it was much better adapted to the infernal than the terrestrial regions, for that, what with smothering pedestrians with dust in summer, and plastering them with mud in winter, you had positively created a hell upon earth. I cannot help thinking, too, that Pluto has a predilection for your system, for we are told in the Bible, that Satan (which is Pluto's christian name) desired to have Simon Peter (otherwise called Cephes, or a stone) that he might sift him like wheat, an operation which could only have been performed by the process of Macadamization. There are many of my fellow sufferers who hope to be relieved from these torments, in consequence of the progress of the arts and sciences upon the earth. Ixion would be much obliged to any of the steam companies, who would send down proposals, treating for the purchase of his wheel, which can be warranted to wear well, and has already lasted much longer than any thing which Messrs. Bolton and Watt can pretend to manufacture. Prometheus thinks that Mr. Richard Martin ought to take up his case in the House of Commons, if it is only on the ground of cruelty to animals---for the poor vulture is as much tortured as he is. He asserts that the story of his stealing fire from heaven, is a mere pretence; and that the only foundation for such calumny, is the fact of his having bribed Vulcan to let him have two or three whiffs at his cigar---a luxury so great, that the gods wished to monopolize it to themselves, and therefore condemned him to this cruel punishment. This ne-plus-ultra of enjoyment was thus lost to you mortals, until Sir Walter Raleigh discovered a new world, and thence imported tobacco into Europe--a piece of daring which was as fatal to him as to Prometheus! for King James, who wrote the "Counterblast against Tobacco," was so incensed against him on that account, that he had him decapitated. There is a song, too, written (as I shrewdly suspect, by the editor of this New Series of Letters from the Dead to the Living), in which poor Ixion is traced to his fondness for tobacco.---There is a stanza in which it runs thus; "It (i. e. tobacco) has foes, I well know, but the reasons I'll shew, The cloud at which Ixion grasped by mistake Juno, vexed his entrances to lose, fixed in hell And the ladies have ever since hated the smell, And the smoke of a lighted cigar.' The ladies in this country have no such prejudices; Proserpine smokes like a fury, and (from the expression which I have just used) you will guess that Alecto, Megæra, and Tisiphone do the same. Phlegethon, of course, smokes: how could a river of fire do otherwise? Some of the gods above appear to imitate us in this particular; for it is well known that Pan (among others) is exceedingly fond of a pipe. My eternal occupation, of course, deprives me of the opportunity of requiring, and consequently of communicating to you, much intelligence as to what is going on in this place. I am indebted for most of my information to Orpheus, the manager of our Opera House, who now and then gives me a call, and to whom I am indebted for the short but only respite to my torments which I ever enjoyed. One of your own poets tells you, that at the time of his far-famed descent into these regions, for the purpose of recovering his wife, among the other effects of his music, "The stone of Sisyphus stood still, He tells me that Pluto has lately turned Roman Catholic; and that, anxious for the spread of that religion, he has sent several of his discreetest ministers into the world, in the disguise of Jesuits, who are now (naturally enough) playing the devil in France. They have also carried with them several very facetious relics, which were manufactured in this country---for Pluto is a wag in his way and loves a joke amazingly. A branch of the tree on which Judas hanged himself, has been sent over as a piece of the true cross ---Cerberus has been obliged to submit to be cupped, and the produce of that operation will be exhibited next year at Naples, as the veritable blood of St. Januarias; and a copy of the oath of allegiance to Pluto, printed in Acheronian characters, will shortly be sold at Antwerp, as the horn book out of which St. Anne taught the Virgin Mary her letters. The corps de ballet at our opera is very strong, "St. Vitus' Dance," and "the Devil's Tattoo," are at present the favorite performances. The tight rope is also a very popular exhibition here, as it gives us an opportunity of seeing many eminent artists late at the Old Bailey. Literature and the drama flourish wonderfully at Acheron, for the more books that are sent to the d---1, and the greater number of plays that are damned in your world, the larger must be our supply of such commodities. We have epic poems, which, as Porson said, will be read when Homer and Virgil are forgotten, and not till then tragedies so pathetic, that they excite roars of laughter; and comedies so facetious that all the world goes to sleep. We have lyrics that have been read with good applause by the author to himself: and operas that have been productive of ùnfeigned delight to the composer. The Royal Library of Acheron is a splendid building, erected on the banks of the river Lethe, and Somnus is the librarian. There are deposited the numerous works of all those worthies-- "Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep," Who indignantly appeal from the bad taste of an ignorant and malicious world to the impartial judgment of posterity. I need not enumerate them, as they are by this time entirely forgotten on the earth. I may however mention several works which we are in daily expectation of receiving, such as Southey's Epic; Bragge Bathurst's Speeches, in 500 volumes, bound in calf; Reynolds's Jokes; the Critiques of the Newspapers; and the greater part of the Literary Periodicals. All this time this neverenough-to-be-anathematised stone is in motion. Pray, Mr. Macadam, take my case into your serious consideration, for your own sake, if not for my own; for if it should turn out that you are stony-hearted, you will stand a chance of being submitted to the discipline of your invention. Thou glorious Ruin! who could gaze on thee Untouched by tender thoughts, and glimmering dreams, Of long departed years? Lo! nature seems Accordant with thy silent majesty ! The far blue hills---the bright reposing sea-- The lonely forest, and the murmuring streams, The gorgeous summer Sun, whose farewell beams Illume thine ivied halls, and tinge each tree Whose green arms round thee cling---the balmy air--- Review. Tales of the O'Hara Family. Second Series. Comprising the Nowlans, and Peter of the Castle, London: Henry Colburn, 8vo. 3 vols., 1826. But a short period has elapsed since the first series of "Tales, "by the O'Hara Family," made its appearance, and created an anxiety among its readers for the second series, now before us. The forcible and lively descriptions, not more remarkable for the delightful touches of nature, than shrewdness of observation, give a zest to the perusal of these tales that is seldom enjoyed. They have a higher claim than merely interesting the fancy and playing upon the heart; they are admirable illustrations of the characters and manners of the farmers and peasantry in Ireland, which, notwithstanding the approximity of its situation and intimate connection with our island, are but little understood here. We were always partial to the Irish characters; not because our grandfather's great grandfather drew his first breath in "Erin's Isle," but from various associations of a mental nature, and warm sympathies arising from its contemplation. The Irish may be hot-brained, blundering, and superstitious; but in all ranks there generally abound a liberal elevation of sentiment and sincere devotion to the qualities of patriotism. Even the lowest classes are blessed with an unaffected liberality that apologizes for their wild uncouthness and semi-barbarism, arising from the sway of an intolerant and bigotted priesthood. Among nations, there are few so hospitable as the Irish. The English pride themselves on their superior refinements, but, in the qualities of the heart, they are, in many respects, as a nation, less animated than the sons of this unhappy country. These concluding observations were occasioned by the charming display of rustic hospitality in the tale of the "Now"lans." "The Nowlans" occupy the first two vols. As stated in a former number, our plan is, when we have an excellent work, to content ourselves with a concise delineation of its literary merits, and the reader with entertaining extracts exhibitive of the author's style and merits of the volume. We are assured that this plan will not displease; as critical diffuseness is too easy and common a way of filling the sheet to gratify those who prefer an introduction to the author than a tedious acquaintance with the reviewer. The following extract commences with a description of John Nowlan, the principle character, when under the protection of his uncle. "John Nowlan never after attended to his religious duties, during his residence "under his uncle's roof. This was the time that he became more than ever engaged in "riding about to the tenants, in endeavouring to pacify creditors, and in stratagems for "his uncle's existence and personal safety. And such a course of life tended, in a way |