WELLINGTON HOSPITALITY.
" I pray you stand not on the order of your going, but go at once." " Goon wine," says the proverb, "needs no bush ;" and no book of our time has been less puffed and more admired than Cyril Thornton*. We heard much of it in private, and saw little of it in print ; whence we augured well of its merit, and perusal fully justified our eapectalions. The tale is indeed of first-rate merit, and is only of too melancholy a truth. It is the history of a soldier, from youth to manhood, from the fulness of hope to the blankness of disappointment ; and interesting as is the deduction, we cannot :trace its course without a saddened brow, and a sigh to the too faithful portrait of the vanity of human joys and the solidity of human troubles.
There are scenes, however, of great humour and gayety as well as of sadness, in Cyril Thornton ; and one of the first we shall cite, as pleasantly characteristic of the peremptory spirit of the 'Great Soldier who is now wreathing his sword with the greenest olive branch of peace. The Minister, we shall see, knows how to exclude from the blessings of dinner, as well as to admit to offices of state : we only wonder that he escaped the fate of huntsmen who have been eaten by their own hungry clogs. The anecdote -is of
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