May the spirit of poesy continue more and more to interpret and educate the spirit of piety! May the hymn refine and reform the creed; the instincts of the heart correct and cure the errors of the mind; and the voice of Christian catholic faith in song, sounding down from generation to generation, floating over sectarian enclosures, as do the bell-tones over the churches, waken and keep alive men's yearning for the true Church, the kingdom of heaven, and at last usher in the fulfilment of its own prophetic harmony.

ART. V. LAMB AND HOOD.

1. The Works of CHARLES LAMB. In Four Volumes. A New Edition. Boston Crosby, Nichols, Lee, & Co. 1860.

2. Memorials of Thomas Hood. Collected, Arranged, and Edited by his Daughter. With a Preface and Notes by his Son. Illustrated with Copies from his own Sketches. In Two Volumes. Boston Ticknor and Fields. 1860.

A HEARTY welcome to this beautiful American edition of Lamb's Works, evidence of a demand we are glad to believe in, and intimating the delight-how we envy them!-of a new generation forming a first acquaintance with "Elia." We greet, also, the Memorials of Hood, giving glimpses of his unsullied private life.

The temptation offered by these publications to write of two of the foremost contributors to the pleasant literature of our time, is not to be resisted, even at the risk of telling a thrice-told tale, - not much of a risk, after all, since those who have any affinity for the story can never tire of its repetition. Besides, it is not our purpose to speak of them chiefly as writers. We are able now to remove the always more than semi-transparent masks of the humorists, and show the sweet, brave faces of the men.

Lamb and Hood had striking resemblances and marked differences. We bring them together in our admiration; we separate them, more or less, in any critical analysis. They

are "hale fellows well met" for the most part, but do not always keep side by side. We shall endeavor, therefore, to indicate wherein was the unity and the duality, to unite them finally in a common title to reverential respect, for higher reasons than the fascinating felicities of their pens.

Of humble birth, and receiving about the same amount of early education, these "lively friends" met suffering on the threshold of manhood, and parted from suffering only at the grave. They became authors more by accident than by design. Literature with Hood was soon a profession; to Lamb it was mainly relief and recreation. The former kept the wolf from the door by the earnings of his brain; the latter got his livelihood at the India House, adding by his writings a little superfluity to a moderate income. In rare friendships, neither can be said to have had the better of the other. But in one respect Hood was pre-eminently the most blessed. Lamb never had a home, in the full meaning of the word; Hood was never without one. Lamb had to resign "the fairhaired girl"; it was only in "Reverie" that he courted and I called Alice W his; and his children were but "Dream Children." Hood's affections, on the other hand, were fully met and satisfied. He could write: "I never was anything, dearest, till I knew you, and I have been a better, happier, and more prosperous man ever since. Lay by that truth in lavender, sweetest, and remind me of it when I fail. I am writing warmly and fondly, but not without good cause. First, your own affectionate letter, lately received; next, the remembrances of our dear children, pledges—what darling ones! of our old familiar love; then a delicious impulse to pour out the overflowings of my heart into yours; and last, not least, the knowledge that your dear eyes will read what my hand is now writing. Perhaps there is an afterthought that, whatever may befall me, the wife of my bosom will have this acknowledgment of her tenderness, worth, excellence, - all that is wifely or womanly, from my pen." He could say: "With such a wife to tease, and such children to tease me, I do not get so weary of life as some other people might." The light within his domestic circle, fierce and black as might be the storm without, was never darkened.

His feeble hand and throbbing brain were encouraged by sweet rewarding motives to work with something like a healthful elasticity and enthusiasm. His labors were labors of love; and being such, the pain of toil had in it a large element of pleasure. How different the fate of his friend! The picture of Lamb when Mary was away - poring over the old dramatists, studying the drawings of Hogarth, or striving to forget self and the cheerless present by weaving into exquisite phrases his delicate imaginings or delicious exaggerations, is the very opposite of the picture of Hood, with Jane at the other side of the table, and Fanny and Tom Jr. sleeping the peaceful sleep of childhood near by. The shadows in this are the shadows of the common lot, not a little illuminated; and though solicitude may sadden the smiles and looks of tenderness, there are no signs of desolation of the heart. But in that the awful solitariness is for dreary days and nights almost wholly unrelieved. Over his brother wit, then, Hood had this unspeakable advantage. Happy and content in his domestic relations, a man can battle with the rough world, and resist with good success the depression of chronic disease. But when the sorrow pierces to the heart's core, haunting the one strongest affection with a constant fear, bright deeds and bright words shine as stars among midnight tempest-clouds, sparkle as diamonds in the gloomy and arid desert.

Turning from their circumstances to their mental and moral traits, we still trace interesting and instructive similitudes and contrasts in Lamb and Hood. They were one in affectionateness and gentleness of disposition. With Hood there was no peculiarity in the manifestation of these qualities. They expressed themselves directly and naturally. They attract attention by their continued even flow, their ever-present, thoughtful activity. In his letters to his wife and his friends, his intercourse with his own children and the children of others, his kindliness is delightfully spontaneous and constant. The sunny temper, the quick sympathies, the generous unsuspiciousness, are explicit and harmonious. With Lamb, by reason of his singular make and experience, it was otherwise. His sweetest emotions often uttered themselves in strange fashions, shrinking from straight-forward expres

sion. Not infrequently you must interpret him by contraries. For example, we hold it certain-though we shall not stop to prove the fact, sure that our readers can see it for themselves that none but a loving observer of children could have stammered out his well-known toast at a juvenile party:

"To the memory of the much calumniated King Herod!" or have written "A Bachelor's Complaint of the Behavior of Married People." Here, as elsewhere, the flash of ironical jests serves to throw a stronger light on his tearful sensibility, after you get the clew to the jester; his nature being one of those that reveal themselves in whimsical attempts at concealment. Then again in happy sentences, "con amore" descriptions, and fond memories, how his tenderness betrays itself. In "The Old Benchers" he asks, "Is there not in the bosoms of the wisest and the best some of the child's heart left?" The days he would recall are "the days of a mother's love for her schoolboy." Very significant, too, his reference to Old Morris: "To the last he called me Charley. I have nobody to call me mother limn more perfect

Charley now!" Then could any sketches than those of John and Alice, exquisite photographs of "what might have been"?

And what meaning

in these passages from "New Year's Eve"! "But for the child Elia, that other me,' there in the background, I must take leave to cherish the remembrance of that young master.. I can cry over its patient small-pox at five, and rougher medicaments. I can lay its poor fevered head upon the sick pillow, and wake it up with surprise at the gentle posture of maternal tenderness hanging over it, that unknown had watched its sleep. I know how it shrunk from any, the least color of falsehood. . .. I know how

honest, how courageous (for a weakling) it was, how religious, how imaginative, how hopeful!"

These are illustrations of the tone that pervades Lamb's life. They exhibit the lovingness that attached him devotedly to his promiscuous collection of friends, -made him impatient of the disparagement in earnest of any acquaintance, prevented him from ever giving "an ill-thought birth," and elevated even his selfish and conceited elder brother into a sort of Apollo. Truly we cannot quite admit his protest

against being "eternally styled gentle-hearted," though ready to confess he was something more and stronger than that.

In wit and humor Lamb and Hood were akin. The indulgence of an innate love of fun was irresistible to them. The one delighted in gravely quizzing his sister and mystifying his friends, and the public too for that matter, as in his "Ellistoniana." The other, a practical as well as a verbal joker, must needs play innocent tricks on his children, warn his credulous wife not to buy any "plaice that had the appearance of red or orange spots," fill her pudding with skewers, interpolate her letters, and be the mischievous monkey of the family. The habit of the twin wags is pretty well exemplified in two extracts we take, at second hand, from Mrs. Balmanno's "Pen and Pencil." We quote the first, not only for the humor of it, but also for the love that lurks in it, and the hint given of a memorable sentence in " Mackeroy End."

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"On the following night, according to his promise, Mr. Lamb honored us with a visit, accompanied by his sister, Mr. and Mrs. Hood, and a few others hastily gathered together for the occasion. On entering the room, Mr. Lamb seemed to have forgotten that any previous introduction had taken place. 'Allow me, Madam,' said he, to introduce to you, my sister Mary; she 's a very good woman, but she drinks!' Charles, Charles,' said Miss Lamb, imploringly (her face at the same time covered with blushes), 'how can you say such a thing?' 'Why,' rejoined he, 'you know it's a fact; look at the redness of your face. Did I not see you in your cups at nine o'clock this morning?' 'For shame, Charles,' returned his sister, what will our friends think?' 'Don't mind him, my dear Miss Lamb,' said Mrs. Hood, soothingly; 'I will answer that the cups were only breakfast-cups full of coffee.' "Seeming much delighted with the mischief he had made, he turned away, and began talking quite comfortably on indifferent topics to some one else. For my own part I could not help telling Mrs. Hood I longed to shake Charles.' 'O,' replied she, smiling, Miss Lamb is so used to his unaccountable ways that she would be miserable without them.' Once, indeed, as Mr. Lamb told Hood, having really gone a little too far,' and seeing her, as he thought, quite hurt and offended, he determined to amend his manners, behave politely, and leave off joking altogether.' For a few days he acted up to this resolution, behaving, as he assured Hood, 'admirably; and what do you think I got for my pains?' 'I have no doubt,' said Hood, 'you got sincere

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