, we remarked that we
could not see things to be _out_ of the sight, because we could not see
the sight itself. Mr Bailey alleges, that this argument is borrowed from
him, being a mere reversal of his reasoning, that we cannot see things
to be _in_ the sight, because we cannot see both the sight and the
things. That our argument might very naturally have been suggested by
his, we admit. But it was not so. We had either overlooked the passage
in his book, or it was clean out of our mind when we were pondering our
own speculations. It did not suggest our argument, either nearly or
remotely. Had it done so, we should certainly have noticed it, and
should probably have handled both Mr Bailey's reasoning and our own to
better purpose, in consequence. If, notwithstanding this disclaimer, he
still thinks that appearances are against us, we cannot mend his faith,
but can merely repeat, that the fact is as we have stated it.

* * * * *

THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

WITH THIRTY-TWO ILLUSTRATIONS, BY WILLIAM MULREADY, R.A.

In a review we made last January of Goldsmith's "Deserted Village,"
illustrated by the Etching Club, we concluded our notice with
recommending to those able artists the "Vicar of Wakefield;" and
expressed a hope that Mr Maclise would lend his powerful aid, having in
our recollection some very happy illustrations of his hand in pictures
exhibited at the Royal Academy Exhibition.

What the Etching Club are about, we know not; but the subject has been
taken up by Mr Mulready; and we now feel it incumbent upon us to notice
this new and illustrated edition of that immortal work. Immortal it must
be; manners pass away, modes change, but the fashion of the heart of man
is unalterable. The "Vicar of Wakefield" bears the stamp of the age in
which it was written. Had it been laid aside by the author, discovered,
and now first brought out, without a notice of the author, or of the
time of its composition, received it must have been indeed with delight,
but not as belonging to the present day. It differs in its literature
and its manners. It is at once a most happy work for illustration, and
the most difficult. It is universally known. Who has not shed previous
and heart-improving tears over it? Taking up the tale now, for the
hundredth time, we are become, from somewhat morose, tender as a
lamb--propitious condition for a critic! We opened upon the scene where
Mr Burchell so cruelly