ated the
sublimity of his aerial flight. But the great charm thrown around the
effusions of the Suffolk bard is that "lucid veil" of morality and
religion which "covers but not conceals"--that "silver net-work,"
through which his poetic "apples of gold" shine with an adventitious
beauty, which even the gorgeous ornaments so profusely lavished by
a Byron or a Moore would fail to invest them.

There is a fame which owes its spell
To popular applause alone;
Which seems on lip and tongue to dwell,
And finds--in others' breath--its own;
For such the eager worldling sighs,
And this the fickle world supplies.

There is a nobler fame--which draws
Its purer essence from the heart;
Which only seeks that calm applause
The virtuous and the wise impart:
Such fame beyond the grave shall live:
But this the world can never give.

--B. BARTON.

We have alluded to the amiable character of our poet; that his modesty
is equal to his merit, the following extract, from a letter to a friend,
will afford a pleasing evidence. Speaking of his literary career, he
says, "it has been marked by an indulgence on the part of the public,
and the dispensers of literary fame, which I never anticipated. When I
consider that only about three years have elapsed since I avowed myself
an author, I am really surprised at the notice my trivial productions
have received, and the numerous acquaintance to which they have, by
correspondence, introduced me. Much of this, I dare say, is owing to
my quakerism; and to that, unquestionably, I was indebted for the
article in the _Edinburgh Review_, and the more recent passing notice
in the _Quarterly_. Still, as I do not believe that any _outre_ or
_adventitious_ source of attraction would have alone procured me the
attention I have found, I would hope it may partly have arisen from
their simple, unaffected appeal to those quiet, domestic, secluded
feelings, which endear the still undercurrent of existence--in short,
to my being content to make the best I could of the homely and confined
materials to which my situation has given me access, without affecting
scholarship, or aiming at romantic embellishment. There is nothing like
simple truth and nature, after all; and he who is satisfied with simply
and faithfully describing what he actually sees, feels, and, thinks, may
always hope to appeal successfully to the unsophisticated heart."[4]

We here conclude our notice of the ba