o effect all this, and his example, (in support
of the maxim, that "every man is the architect of his own fortune,")
will be respected and cherished, at home and abroad, as long as
self-advancement continues to be the great stimulus to aspiring
industry.

The old Elephant public-house therefore merits the attention of all
lovers of painting and genius; for in it, previous to his celebrity,
lodged WILLIAM HOGARTH. It was built before the fire of London, and
although so near, escaped its ravages; but the house was pulled down a
short time since, and another of more commodious construction erected on
its site. On the wall of the tap-room, in the old house, were four
paintings by Hogarth: one representing the Hudson's Bay Company's
Porters; another, his first idea for the Modern Midnight Conversation,
(differing from the print in a circumstance too broad in its humour for
the graver,) and another of Harlequin and Pierot seeming to be laughing
at the figure in the last picture. On the first floor was a picture of
Harlow Bush Fair, covered over with paint. This information is copied
from an old print picked up in our "collecting" rambles, at the foot of
which it is stated to have been obtained from "Mrs. Hibbert, who has
kept the house between thirty and forty years, and received her
information relating to Mr. Hogarth from persons at that time well
acquainted with him." The paintings were, we believe, removed previous
to the destruction of the old house.

To the searchers into life and manners, Hogarth's moral paintings, to
which branch of art the above belong, are treasures of great prize; and
whether over his originals at the gallery in Pall Mall, or their copies
at the printsellers--the Elephant in Fenchurch-street, or the "painting
moralist's" tomb in Chiswick churchyard--Englishmen have just cause to
be proud of his name.

* * * * *

THE SELECTOR

AND LITERARY NOTICES OF _NEW WORKS_

* * * * *

DAYS DEPARTED; OR, BANWELL HILL:

_A Lay of the Severn Sea, by the Rev. W. Lisle Bowles._

This is a delightful volume--full of nature and truth--and in every
respect worthy of "one of the most elegant, pathetic, and original
living poets of England." Moreover, it is just such a book as we
expected from the worthy vicar of Bremhill; dedicated to the Bishop of
Bath and Wells; and dated from Bremhill Parsonage, of which interesting
abode we inserted a