Most of the poems here noticed are interspersed with beautiful lyric effusions: instance, a song of Anna's, in " Machin :" "I loved thee, when my jocund morn Of life was bright, with hope and gladness, And I was left, the child of sadness, "When towers were flaming high in air, And arch was torn, and turret rent, Didst snatch me from the battlement ! "When drifted o'er the foaming wave, E'en while we deemed our bliss the nearest ! "I loved thee, when my heart first knew In the earlier stages of Mr. Bird's poetic career-in the structure of his verse, in its pauses and cadences-the semblance of Pope, of Goldsmith, and of Campbell, was successively and frequently to be traced; but, as he advanced, he acquired an originality, a distinctness, and an individuality of style, which, in the words of Dr. Drake, entitled him to an honourable and a permanent station among the poets of his country." In the heroic couplet, he was completely at ease he was familiar with his harp; and, with the hand of a master, he could freely, Both of Mr. Bird's parents attained a good old age-sank to the tomb beneath a weight of years: his venerable mother has not long been dead. Longevity, however, is not always enjoyed by descent. Mr. Bird's constitution ever seemed delicate: his appearance was not such as to promise length of days. During the year 1838, he suffered much, and almost incessantly, from what, in the result, proved pulmonic disease. rupture of a blood-vessel, in the autumn, gave fatal warning. His trials and afflictions are most touchingly described in the following stanzas, which, as they have appeared only in a local paper (The Ipswich Journal) will be new to most readers. They are entitled The A Word at parting with the Year 1838: "Good bye, old year! I'm glad you're going, Did you not e'en from heel to crest, What did you do in JANUARY, And when dull FEBRUARY came, Flow'd like a river? Sharp through my liver! And when the wind of MARCH rush'd down With ragged mien and chilling frown, Sweeping o'er country and o'er town With piercing breath,— And when MAY show'd her blooming face, Her radiant smile, her glowing grace, When idle poets, out of place,' Penn'd many a stanza How did you serve me? Torturing imp! In JUNE, disquiet'd on my bed, Pray live on sago, But when JULY's hot sun came round, I greeted friends from house to house, And when sweet AUGUST smil'd, for me Sweeps DUNWICH shore; Then came SEPTEMBER-yes! old year! Burst from the broken vessels fast, Then came dark visions-nameless things, The spell that bound me! OCTOBER came-the dying leaf Fell from the tree-its life how brief!- Friends with one heart, whose ample core, Oh! tell me not the human heart Of God within it: No! though imbru'd with evil's taint, Another word! fast fading year! But what is Time? A thought-a dream! An offering grateful, glowing, free, With here and there a trait of quiet humour that excites a smile, even whilst grief is the prevailing emotion of the heart, these lines are eminently beautiful: many of them would reflect credit on the first poetical pens of the day. The gentleness, the mild, humble, pious resignation of the writer, sink into the very depths of the heart. As the last, they were also the sweetest warblings of the dying swan. At the commencement of the present year, hopes of improvement in the sufferer's health | the moments of its calm yet awful anticipawere fondly indulged; but, alas! a combi- tion, Mr. Bird made a series of extracts nation of sinister events arose, and all again from his poems, with a view to their future was dark. A violent attack of spasms, and, publication in a small volume. Unable, from almost simultaneously, the sudden death of hourly increasing weakness, to complete the one of his children, distant from home, struck selection, it was one of his latest requests his worn and enfeebled frame to the earth. that his dear friend, the writer of this sketch, He never rallied more. He lingered, and would, in kindness to his memory, undertake gradually wasted-happily without much the task. The endeavour has been made; physical suffering-till he sank quietly into and howsoever inadequate the execution may his last sleep. He was patient and resigned prove, it will interest many to know, that in to the end. Indeed, during his protracted the course of a month, probably, the projectsickness, he was never heard to utter an im- ed little volume may be expected to appear. patient word. Not only to his own family, but to his dearly beloved friends, distant as well as present, his heart yearned with intense and unswerving affection. A minute or two previously to his departure, he manifested his enduring love towards his sorrowing wife and offspring, by pressing each of them feebly by the hand. His twelve surviving children were around him at this awful moment. He expired at one in the afternoon, on the 26th of March. His was the good man's death. Hallowed and blessed be his memory for ever! At the expiration of a week after he had ceased to be an inhabitant of earth, the last ostensible tribute of duty and affection from his bereaved family was paid, by their following his remains to their cold and silent resting-place, in the churchyard of that sweet village which, to him, had been a paradise. A large number of his old familiar friends joined the sad funereal procession, to testify their estimation of his worth-their grief for the deep loss which they had sustained. A short time previously to his death, and in THE DEAD TO The noble qualities of the deceased's mind and heart are already upon record ;—the simple and straight-forward honesty of his character-his general kindness and benevolence of feeling-his warm, faithful, and unflagging friendship were universally known ;-of his genius, as a poet, ample specimens have been offered in these pages; but, of one rare and beautiful accomplishment which he possessed in an extraordinary degree, only his more intimate and most congenial friends were fully cognizant. His epistolary correspondence was of an unusually high order of excellence: without the slightest attempt at fine writing, or display of any kind, his thoughts ran, currente calamo: affection, tenderness, wit, humour, vivacity, the soul's cheerfulness, mingled, played, and sparkled in every line. However, to know James Bird, was not only to respect but to Love him. It has been truly said, that his was "a bright and sunny spirit, that made the atmosphere in which it dwelt all love and brightness." T. H. Our Portrait of Mr. Bird is from a drawing, by Mr. oil painting, by Pardon, in 1826. Harvey, an amateur artist, of Bury St. Edmund's, from an THE LIVING. 66 By the Author of " The Siege of Zaragoza," "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage," " Lyrical Poems," &c. THINK of us, ye living ones Who are on the green green earth- To cheer the imprisoned dead. Our eyes on you! will ye prove That home-where we hoped to meet ANNALS OF AUTHORS, ARTISTS, BOOKS, AND BOOKSELLERS. LETTER XV. TOM SMITH, OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM.-NOLLEKENS THE SCULPTOR, AND HIS WIFE.-CADELL AND DAVIES.-WM. DARTON.-VERNOR AND HOOD. -CROSBY. MY DEAR SON, Aldine Chambers, Paternoster Row, May 1, 1839. the prints and drawings in the British Museum. I cannot avoid relating one little anecdote from the pen of Mr. Smith, as it is I ADDRESS you on your birthday. Thirty summer suns and winter skies appear to have passed over your head without a cloud, excepting those which the shadows of my win-in point, as illustrative of your position, and ter of life may have caused. I am happy to find that you took Dr. Playfair's advice, and that you have given your constitution fairplay by continuing to pass your time in Rome, Florence, Venice, and Naples, with their clear and sunny skies; which I hope continue to cheer you on and to brighten your prospects. I am disappointed at not having heard from you during the last month-not only for my own sake, but also on account of the pages of the ALDINE, particularly from Naples, as I gave you a letter of introduction to my old friend, Mr. John Cumming, (nephew of the late literary Dr. Anderson, of Edinburgh) a banker there, and a man of talent. I initiated him in the wholesale book trade forty-seven years ago. He was your brother's godfather, had a great regard for me and I have no doubt but that he will shew kindness to your father's son, personified in you. Previously to his leaving London, he made himself acquainted with the interesting department of curious and scarce old books, under the roof of the late John Cuthell, of Holborn; and, in a knowledge of scarce and valuable editions of the classics, under the instructions of the late lamented Mr. Lunn, formerly of Cambridge but subsequently of London. Of both these gentlemen I shall hereafter have to speak. In a former letter you alluded to your position on the Pincian hill, and to your home being in the street where Salvator Rosa, Claude, and Nicholas Poussin resided. I have just been smiling over the pages of old Nollekens and his times, so admirably depicted by the late John Thomas Smith, one of his earliest assistants, and keeper of of the spelling propensities of Mrs. Nollekens for presents, and her appreciation of them. Mrs. Nollekens was a collector of prints, by receiving them from those engravers who were candidates for the Associate's claim in the Royal Academy. She had several engravings after Claude, with whom she always expressed herself delighted; and, whenever she had occasion to shew them, would invariably make the following observation:-" It is very remarkable that Claude, Salvator Rosa, and Nicholas Poussin, lived close beside each other, on the Trinita del Monte!" Mr. Smith furnishes many interesting anecdotes not only of Mrs. Nollekens, and her "Nolly," but also of the eminent personages who visited his studio, and of the painters, engravers, and other professional characters that formerly resided in and about St. Martin's Lane, Newport Street, Leicester Square, Soho, &c. I intend to collect you memoranda on this subject, as I knew several of the characters in my early life, particularly Mrs. Hogarth, Mrs. Vivares, T. Payne, Roger Payne, &c. But first let me follow the motto of James Lackington— Ne sutor ultra crepidam"-in giving an account of the booksellers and their relative positions in Paternoster Row, St. Paul's Church-yard, &c., which I must detail in my next. In my last I barely extended to the Strand for the purpose of introducing the triumvirate of Lintot, Tonson, and Millar, but more particularly the last named and his successor, the late Alderman Cadell, as he and his successors have so long upheld the sign of the learned Buchanan's Head, opposite Catherine Street; about ANNALS OF AUTHORS, ARTISTS, BOOKS, AND BOOKSELLERS. 309 which many respectable booksellers that I have yet to notice formerly resided. Alderman Cadell, as I before remarked, retired from business in 1793. MESSRS. CADELL AND DAVIES commenced business under the most favourable auspices, and a capital and stock unrivalled in this, or perhaps in any other country. They continued to carry on trade for many years with high talent and respectability. In addition to all the valuable copyrights they possessed they became almost too adventurous and liberal in very expensive and heavy undertakings, several of which, singly, almost required a fortune to bring them forward. Among others were the Historic Gallery of Pictures, the Contemporary Portraits, Murphy's Arabian Antiquities of Spain, and numberless others. The last mentioned work employed a capital of ten thousand pounds. It was published at forty guineas per copy! and was written, compiled, and the drawings made by a most extraordinary man, of which the world know so little that I must present you with a short sketch of him. He was a man of a strong mind and of great natural abilities, originally employed by Mr. Alexander Dean, an eminent builder (father of your friend, Sir Thomas Dean) in Cork, at a sum, I was credibly informed, of under twelve shillings per week. Ere he quitted Cork he displayed his taste and talent by commencing, and completing, the first geometrical staircase erected in that city. He subsequently surveyed, and published a Map of Cork, in which, however, there was a ludicrous mistake, by his placing a row of trees on the wrong side of the river. However, he soon rectified this error, and became even more celebrated than Dr. Beaufort, who not only published a Map of Cork, but also a valuable ecclesiastical Map of Ireland, with a Me moir. He was introduced to me in 1796, by Charles Wilson. I proposed to him, in 1806, to publish a History of the County and City of Cork, but the plan was too costly and extensive; and it was relinquished. With regard to Murphy, we find him styled an architect, and author of plans, elevations, sections, and views of the church and royal monastery of Batalha in Portugal. This splendid work was published at 31. 158. In 1789-90, Messrs. Cadell and Davies published his "Travels in Portugal," in "Murphy's Arabian Antiquities of Spain: representing, in one hundred very highly finished line engravings, the most remarkable Remains Mosaics, of the Spanish Arabs, now existing in of the Architecture, Sculpture, Paintings, and the Peninsula; including the magnificent Palace of Alhambra, the celebrated Mosque and Bridge at Cordova, the Royal Villa of Generaliffe, and the Casa de Carbon; Gates, Castles, Fortresses, and Towers; Courts, Halls, and Domes; Baths, Fountains, Wells, and Cisterns; Inscriptions in enamel Mosaics; Paintings, Ornaments, &c. Cufic and Asiatic Characters; Porcelain and &c., from Drawings made on the spot by James Cavanah Murphy. The engravings are all of the highest class, and are executed, without any limit to expense, by J. and H. Le Keux, Finden, Landseer, George Cooke, Fittler, Byrne, Angus, and other first-rate Artists, accompanied by Letter-press descriptions; in one Volume, Atlas folio, with original and brilliant impressions of the plates. Published at £42. "In attestation of the extreme accuracy of these engravings, the publisher has recently been favoured with a strong confirmatory opinion from one of the most distinguished scholars and travellers of the present day, who has compared lisher also preserves the original tracings, casts, them some years since on the spot. The puband admeasurements, which shew the scrupulous fidelity with which all the architectural details are represented. For nobleness of design, splendour of execution, and richness of materials, this costly volume is, in every respect, a match for the mighty French work on the Antiquities of Egypt. As the expenses of the publication were enormous (upwards of ten thousand pounds) the price of the volume is necessarily large in proportion;-yet where is the man of virtù, with pistoles in his purse, who will not hasten to secure such a treasure? If the day be dull, or the night be long, let these Antiquities of the Arabs in Spain,' be a constant, as they will be a cheering, companion !"— Bibliomania. To return to Messrs. Cadell and Davies. I believe that Mr. Cadell, jun., was left an independent fortune, but it was perhaps the wish of his father, as well as his own, that he should continue his praiseworthy pursuits in the cause of literature, although nothing could well exceed in the shape of literary undertakings what was already established. However, being possessed of a stock of almost incalculable value, it would require |