t sadden, but delight him. It was part of the play to see
the division between the King of Navarre (Henri IV.) and the Duke of
Guise. He told Thuanus that he knew the most secret thoughts of both
these princes, and that he was persuaded that neither of them was of the
religion he professed. This scandal gave him no concern, compared with
his fear that his own castle would suffer in wars of the League. As to
the Reformation, he held it for a hasty, conceited movement on the part
of persons who did not know what they were meddling with, and, being a
perfect sceptic, he was a perfectly good Churchman. Full of tolerance,
good-humour, and content, cheerful in every circumstance, simple and
charming, yet melancholy in his hour, Montaigne is a thorough
representative of the French spirit in literature. His English
translator in 1776 declares that "he meets with a much more favourable
entertainment in England than in his native country, a servile nation
that has lost all sense of liberty." Like many other notions current in
1776, this theory of Montaigne's popularity at home and abroad has lost
its truth. Perhaps it would be more true to say that Montaigne is one of
the last authors whom modern taste learns to appreciate. He is a man's
author, not a woman's; a tired man's, not a fresh man's. We all come to
him, late indeed, but at last, and rest in his panelled library.

THACKERAY'S DRAWINGS.

The advertisements of publishers make a very pleasant sort of reading.
They offer, as it were, a distant prospect of the great works of the
future, looming in a golden haze of expectation. A gentleman or lady may
acquire a reputation for wide research by merely making a careful study
of the short paragraphs in the literary papers.

There are three classes of people who take an interest in letters. There
are the persons who read books; the much larger class which reads
reviews; and, again, they who merely skim over the advertisements of new
works. The last set live in a constant enjoyment of the pleasure of
expectation; they pretend to themselves that some day they will find time
to peruse the volumes in the birth of which they are interested, but, in
fact, they live in the future. They are a month ahead of their friends
who read reviews, and six months of the students who actually devour
books themselves. Not only these eager lovers of literary "shop," but
all friends of English humour, must be glad to see that a col