I found his works laboured and tedious, and could not in spite of all my efforts derive any pleasure from their perusal.  The productions of Beranger are confined within a very small compass, but containing that which causes one to regret that his works are not more voluminous.  The true nerve and genius of poetry, continually sparkling throughout his writings, as a patriotic feeling and a generous love of liberty formed the principal points in his character.  The efforts to suppress that spirit which was attempted in the reign of Charles X called forth the powers of his muse, but since the accession of the present monarch to the throne, as all has been conducted on a more liberal system, his pen has lain dormant, which has disappointed all who have read and admired those effusions of a free and exalted mind, which he has at present published, and led to the hope that they would be continued.  Of Victor Hugo’s productions I need say but little, as they are so generally known in England, particularly his Notre-Dame de Paris, which has been dramatised under the title of Quasimodo and acted at Covent Garden, as well as at other theatres, and few I believe there are who have not felt some sympathy for Esmeralda.  When Victor Hugo wrote this, the works of Sir Walter Scott I think were bearing upon his mind; his poems and dramatic pieces at one period created much sensation, and undoubtedly possess a certain tone of merit.  The Comte Alfred de Vigny is the author of one work which may be considered as a gem amongst the mass of publications which emanate from the French press of that nature; it is entitled, Cinq-Mars, an historical novel, which is decidedly one of the best and most interesting of any that have appeared either in England or in France for several years past; he has also written a tragedy on the subject of the unfortunate Chatterton, which at the time it came out excited a deep interest, but M. de Vigny, like many of the present literary characters in France, appears resting on his oars.  Not so with Alexandre Dumas, whose prolific pen appears like himself to be ever active; what with travelling to different countries, then publishing accounts of his wanderings, novels of divers descriptions, detached pieces, and dramatic productions, he must be constantly on the qui vive.  There are very different opinions respecting his writings, they certainly possess a good deal of spirit, some of them considerable feeling, and are generally amusing.  Of novel writers there are many, but unfortunately the bad taste prevails of introducing subjects in them that prevent their being read by females, with a few exceptions; those of Balzac are by no means devoid of merit and are exceedingly entertaining, and some there are which any one may peruse of Eugene Sue, who has lately been knighted by the King of the Netherlands; the same may be said, although of the latter description there exist but few.  Those of Paul de Kock are well known in other countries as well as France; they are