A book was advertised, called "The Beauties of Don Juan, including those passages only which are calculated to extend the real fame of Lord Byron." The editor acknowledges that the poem itself, from the unpruned luxuriance of the author's powers, "has remained a sealed volume"--certainly it _ought_ to be a _sealed volume_--"to the fairest portion of the community." This _expurgate_ selection, however, though it contains many passages of great beauty, is a book which I should be sorry indeed to place in the hands of any young lady; and one against which I would _forewarn_ every young man, who is not prepared to run the risk of sacrificing, at the shrine of genius, Christian faith, and Christian soberness, and Christian purity. The description of the shipwreck had been spoken of as particularly fine. I read it. Not long since several accounts of actual shipwrecks and disasters at sea were published[159:1]. Some of these accounts, are among the most interesting and edifying narratives, that I am acquainted with. They abound in instances of heroic courage, of unshaken endurance, of a noble disregard of self, of the warmest benevolence, and of the most exalted piety. Don Juan seems to have taken a wayward pleasure in culling from these narratives the most distressing and painful facts, and then mixing them up in doggrel verse, with ludicrous images and ludicrous rhymes; the main _wit_ often consisting in some unexpected absurdity of sound or cadence. One of the most dreadful consequences of shipwreck is, when a remnant of the crew, cast off in an open boat, are reduced, by extremity of hunger, to determine by lot, which of them shall first be made the food of his companions. Even in such calamity, this perverse and bitter spirit contrives to find matter for merriment. He laughed in himself when he wrote the stanzas, and tries to make his readers laugh; though they must feel indignant with themselves if they give way to the impulse. I conclude my letter with two sayings of Bishop Horne's. "He who sacrifices religion to wit, like the people mentioned by Ælian, worships a fly, and offers up an ox to it." Again; "Sir Peter Lely made it a rule, never to look at a bad picture, having found, by experience, that, whenever he did so, his pencil took a tint from it. Apply this to bad books and bad company." However brilliant the talents of a writer may be, yet, if a book has a tendency to produce a bad effect upon the moral habits of the mind, that book is a _bad_ book. "When I behold a genius bright and base, Of tow'ring talents, and terrestrial aims; Methinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere, The glorious fragments of a soul immortal, With rubbish mixt, and glitt'ring in the dust." I remain, My dear Nephew, Your affectionate Uncle. FOOTNOTES: [147:1] Rev. Hugh James Rose.