listless drawing-room or boudoir reader could require. Nevertheless,
"the voyage" has many touches of wit, humour, and caustic satire, and
it has the soul and characteristic of wit--_brevity_; for we read the
volume in little more than an hour; and, although Vivian may regard our
analysis of his voyage like showing the sun with a lantern, we are
disposed to venture upon the task for the gratification of our readers.

To say that Popanilla resembles Swift's "Tale of a Tub," or Sir Thomas
More's "Utopia," would be an advantageous comparison for our modern
_voyager_, but it would not sufficiently illustrate the character of
his work, since the latter books are so much less read than talked of.
Swift wrote "for the universal improvement of mankind," but Popanilla
publishes for the benefit of the people of England, whom he represents
as living in a too artificial state. He tells his story as the native
of an Indian isle, whose men combine "the vivacity of a faun with the
strength of a Hercules, and the beauty of an Adonis," and whose women
"magically sprung from the brilliant foam of that ocean, which is
gradually subsiding before them." This favoured spot he calls the _Isle
of Fantaisie_, about the shores of which appears a remarkable fish, or
rather a ship, to the no small terror of the islanders. The ship is
wrecked, and Popanilla "having in his fright, during the storm, lost a
lock of hair which, in a moment of glorious favour, he had ravished from
his fair mistress' brow," is next introduced in search of this precious
_bijou_. "The favourite of all the women, the envy of all the men, &c.
&c, and--you know the rest,--Popanilla passed an extremely pleasant
life. No one was a better judge of wine--no one had a better taste for
fruit--no one danced with more elegant vivacity--and no one whispered
compliments in a more meaning tone. What a pity that such an amiable
fellow should have got into such a scrape!"