In criticising the writings and character of his band of poets, Howitt is often acute and sympathizing, but occasionally allows his own passions and prejudices to pervert his view. The chapter on Southey is an instance. Howitt is a liberal of the extreme school, and is consequently much of a bigot in politics and religion. Many uncharitable judgments, much heedless invective, and some mean malice, deform his volumes. We should judge him, in spite of his Quaker coat, to be proud and revengeful, and very impudent. The latter quality is as manifest in his praise as denunciation. Were we unfortunate enough to be a living poet, and Mr. Howitt unfortunate enough to include us in his collection, we should have a strange inclination to “insert” a dagger into him, or contrive in some way to break his neck. There is no delicacy in his personal references. Those qualities which make the book piquant to the reader, must be very offensive to the objects of its blame or eulogy. Mr. Howitt tells a great many things and hazards a great many conjectures, in regard to the personal character of late and living poets, which are at once exceedingly interesting and impertinent. To read these portions of his volumes is like getting information from a spy. We devour the narrative and despise the narrator. The book contains chapters on Chaucer, Spenser, Shakspeare, Cowley, Milton, Butler, Dryden, Addison, Gay, Pope, Swift, Thomson, Shenstone, Gray, Goldsmith, Burns, Cowper, Keats, Shelley, Byron, Coleridge, Scott, Mrs. Hemans, Campbell, Southey, Wordsworth, Wilson, Moore, Rogers, Elliott, Landor, Tennyson, and some dozen others. It will be seen that the work is large in its subject, and that the materials are ample. It would not be fair to test the book by its value as literary history or criticism, though these are largely mixed up with the descriptive portions; but considered as a brilliant series of sketches, half way between familiar chat and refined delineation, it has very great merits, and is full of interest. Some of the anecdotes are excellent. At Stratford, Mr. Howitt saw in a country school a little boy of ten years old, who turned out to be a descendant of Shakspeare’s sister Joan. The father of the lad was wretchedly poor, and kept a low dram shop. Mr. Howitt gave the boy sixpence, and told him he hoped he would make as great a man as his ancestor. The money created a strong sensation in the school, and young Will became a lion. When Howitt was seen in the streets afterward, he was pointed out by the boys as “that gentleman who gave Bill Shakspeare sixpence.”