And Sir James Mackintosh! another of the temporary reputations of a perpetually writing age. Last year, five hundred voices — and some of no mean name — would have pronounced Sir James to be one of the leading lights of the age: he is scarcely remembered now — by this day twelvemonths he will be forgotten, unless, what we do not believe to be very probable, his posthumous work may do more for his permanent renown than any thing which he effected in his life. We have never been admirers of Sir James, but we hope that what we have heard about the intentions of Longman's house respecting the unfinished History of England, which Mackintosh has left behind, will not be carried into effect. We have been assured that the book is to be completed, and revised by some "eminent hand;" — that is to say, by some rascally hack, who will totally destroy the distinctive character of the work. If we are to have Mackintosh, let it be Mackintosh — not some dirty-shirted doer of all-work, at a farthing a line.