A correspondent, S. S. S., inquires concerning one of the numberless, and now almost fameless, works of George Wither, a poet of the seventeenth century, famous in his generation, but unworthily disparaged in that which followed him; the names of Quarles and Wither being proverbially classed with those of Bavius and Mævius in the Augustan age. The _Hallelujah_ of the latter has become precious from its rarity. A copy of this volume (of nearly 500 pages) was lent to me several years ago, by a collector of such treasures. On the blank at the back of the cover, there was written a memorandum that it had been bought at Heber's sale by Thorpe the bookseller for sixteen guineas; my friend, I had reason to believe, paid a much higher price for it, when it fell into his hands. The contents consist of several hundreds of _hymns_ for all sorts and conditions of men, on all the ordinary, and on many of the extraordinary circumstances of human life. Of course they are very heterogeneous, yet no small number are beyond the average of such compositions in point of devotional and poetical excellence. The author himself, with the consciousness of Horace, in his "Exegi monumentum ære perennius," crowns his labours at the 487th page with the following "Io triumphe" lines:-- "Although my Muse flies yet far short of those, Who perfect Hallelujahs can compose, Here to affirm I am not now afraid, What once in part a heathen prophet said, With slighter warrant, when to end was brought What he for meaner purposes had wrought; _The work is finished_, which nor human power, Nor flames, nor times, nor envy shall devour, But with devotion to God's praise be sung As long as Britain speaks her English tongue, Or shall that Christian saving faith possess, Which will preserve these Isles in happiness; And, if conjecture fail not, some, that speak In other languages, shall notice take Of what my humble musings have composed, And, by these helps, be often more disposed To celebrate His praises in their songs, To whom all honour and all praise belongs." How has this fond anticipation been fulfilled? There are not known (says my authority) to be more than _three_ or _four_ copies in existence of this indestructible work; and the price in gold which a solitary specimen can command, is no evidence of anything but its market value. Had its poetic worth been proportionate, its currency might have been as common as that of Milton's masterpiece, and its trade price as low as Paternoster Row could afford a cheap edition of the _Pilgrim's Progress_. J. M. G. Hallamshire. P.S.--Lowndes says: