This is one of the most romantic of romances, and the bewitchingest of witch-stories ... who set on old Lizzie Kolken (a real witch and no mistake) to circumvent and entangle poor Mary, her life, which had hitherto been that of the young rose amid spring dews and showers, pure and fragrant and happy, became a groaning and shrieking agony ... as they stretched her delicate limbs on the wheel, uncovered her while loins, and strewed her tender body with sulphureous goose-quills, boiled in oil ...

There will doubtless be criticism by Lowell and Poe — each in a very different spirit from the others but both Damascene as to the temper of the weapon — of a certain new book, just published by the Langleys.

We are not to expect at, the present advanced state of anatomical science much. that is new, and in consequence the chief merit to which writers in this field lay claim is facility in arrangement, clearness and precision in language, and correctness in illustration. The great desideratum in such works is to get a book which shall contain such wood cut plates or engravings as shall; be sufficient substitutes for the dead body.

That lavish Duke of olden, times, of aristocratic France, who employed the first poets and painters of his day to beautify a souvenir, for his ladye love, only anticipated by a century or two, the editions de luxe of 1844 ... As to the beauty of the flower-gems, and the truth of their beauty we suppose there can be but one opinion. American wildflowers, looking at themselves in their own clear lakes, would not see their delicate tints more perfectly reflected ...

This book, with a bad title, is wonderfully clever. Weary with Eastern travel, we read it with a lively interest from the first page to the last. — There is a great deal that we object to in it. It is not a wise book, nor a learned; indeed the writer tells us at starting that he means to be superficial. It contains much that is hasty, flipper, and ill-digested; and it contains nothing that is useful, scientifical, moral, political, statistical or geographical. But it has a rarer quality. It is real. The writer tells you what he actually saw and felt.

And so, out of this filth and squalor; perhaps lifeless indifference; perhaps crowded, pushing, jostling rascality; there rise the mosques and domes and minarets which alone connect present and past. We discover in such a book as Eothen the marvellous deadness and degeneracy of the East. Fine romantic looking fellows anxious to cheat you. Dignified fellows bent upon plundering you in Allah's name and with the assistance of his prophet. All of the form and none of the realities of the old time ... His account of her (Lady Hester Stanhope) is curious, and in the impression it leaves of a methodical, voluntary, studied madness, does not differ from Lamartine's. But she has a more natural air, and condescends oftener to the truths and commonplaces. She indulged even a talent of mimicry. In which she was said to excel when she presided over her uncle's house in London.

We must not begin our notice of this publication by a profession of impartiality, for we confess a predisposition to think well of anything by the save hand ... The idea is brought out by an induction of particulars ... The Lecture is altogether a fine mental and statesman-like effort, and does justice to the prompt and willing fame of Governor Seward. [page 418:]

Yet, we cannot but believe that few will differ with us when we call the discourse in question a masterly performance — clear, discriminating and original.

The safe return! Why, here he is! Here, with a brimming wine-glass which he knows not whether to toss down his throat or over his head.(1) Here he is trying to laugh, but crying all the while. Here he is kissing the girls and hugging the boys ... Here he is, come back to make his kindred happy, end to fulfill the desire which in all conditions of our being has the force of a passion — to lay his bones among his own people.

... we delight to read of such natural goodness of heart as is displayed by the villagers breaking forth throw the disguise of their rough manners like sunbeams through a cloud. The conclusion is quite poetical. It is as good as Marco Polo stripping open his rags and showering down jewels [page 419:] on the floor. To young people the story will be a rare treat, and will, like a sunshine ramble in a fine country, mingle the healthiest influences with the purest natural enjoyment.

We find no fault with the bringing it out in numbers, but its value evidently is as a whole. For a book of reference to lie an the table or the nearest shelf, ever at hand, we know nothing better of its class. It is just the kind of work, where double columns and small print are not only justifiable, but commendable.

Now, we wish to indicate in this way the exact height of our friend Tom Hood. He is a little below the middle size, with a face as he calls it, better fitted for a number of the ‘Evangelical Magazine’ than a volume of the ‘Comic Annual’. He was mistaken more than once in Germany, he tells us, for a regimental chaplain. His mouth, he informs us, is a little wry.

We have now lying before us an article from the pen of Willis which speaks very much to the same purpose. There is not one of our readers who will not forgive as for quoting it (BJ, II, 275).

We think most readers prefer well selected gems of literature to ill-natured critical dissections, and therefore [page 421:] we foresee prosperity “to Smith's exquisitely printed Weekly Volume.

The ’Southern Literary Messenger’ has opened full battery upon the Literary Magazines of this country. The article on this subject is of a character, which, though severe, we heartily admire — philosophically attacking the evil, and not discharging venoms upon the personal characters of those who are connected with it.

The barbarity of the style, no one doubts, and no one except a few very warm admirers defends ... The sum and substance of our own view of the whole matter is, that which we sympathize to some extent with Mr. Carlyle in his dissatisfaction with the present state of things, we remedies he proposes in his deep mouthed and most oracular tone are absolutely naught — the mere dreams of a kind well-intentioned enough, but half-crazed with overweening self-estimation ... What is this but to shock the common sense of history? And his remedy is Hero-hood. What is this but inane twaddle ... One of the wonders of the age to me is, that such a monstrosity as Carlyle should have attained so high a place in its estimation. His merits are so overloaded by the most shocking and unbounded affectation and egotism, that we rise from the perusal of much that he has written with no other sensations than those of weariness and disgust. [page 422:]

All this is very good, and the book contains many other good things besides. About one half of it would be very acceptable to us; and the other half would not serve our purpose, nor in our opinion, go far to build up and refine the national taste ... We are exceedingly careful in what we commend, and exceedingly viligant and forbearing in accepting the commendations of others. Being so, we have examined Mr. Bud's book kindly and candidly, but we must object to its general tendencies. We do not consider Mr. George B. Cheevers a very great critic,(1) nor Mr. Pollack as a very beautiful poet, nor Dr. Chalmers as a very edifying writer, nor Mrs. Ellis an alluring teacher of goodness ... We think it a great mistake to accord eminence to third-rate minds, and to represent mediocrity in literature as something of higher rank.

Like all the Captain's efforts, these volumes have the grace of readability; and until we discover the source whence the whole or part of the incidents may have been, — borrowed — we shall accord the book the credit of originality too.

... it is the comment which follows the remark that Marion like Washington, had no children. ‘This may [page 423:] have baffled some hopes, and in some degree have qualified his happiness, but did not impair his virtues’. Does it often impair man's morals to be without children?

... must be taken for what they are. They are a fair subject for praises, not for criticism; and we rejoice that a working man, low in health and by no means prosperous in circumstances, can find such solace for the dark hours which drive so many to dissipation and misery.

We perhaps show our Knickerbocker predilections, but we cannot help stating our preference for the tragical story of Jacob Leisler. It is a genuine New York tale, told by a New Yorker in a veritable New York spirit ... We would cherish every interesting local association, springing from the ancient time-honored periods of our history, and we therefore recommend the story of Jacob Leisler to every genuine son of New York.

So far as we can judge from a hasty view, these subjects, some, of which are the greatest that can employ the pen anywhere, are treated with tact and ability, and give us a favorable opinion of the condition of our Western Seminaries of Learning.

This is a good little book, designed to cherish affections. It can have no other influence.

An infant's book has high uses. The far-sighted and generous mind than embraces the welfare of every creature, is worthily employed in feeding the opening intellect.

We have expressed our almost unqualified admiration of this lady's poems, as they separately appeared.

It was once remarked to us, by a critic as candid as he is discerning that there is a great development of the poetic sentiment in this country; that many of our collections, which, in their brief existence, resemble the flowers that seem to be born only to die, like these delicate, odorous and lovely objects in nature, have often a character of sweetness, purity, and freshness, grateful to the refined taste and a feeling heart.

Poe, you remember that you wrote me that you like my poem which I call “The Beechen Tree very much — Well, my good friend, it is just published. I have no copy by me or I would contrive to send you one — you know how much I value a good word from you my friend ... (1)

I would have written you in answer before, but I delayed until I could send you a copy of my little book, which please accept as a slight testimony of my faithful friendship and regard.(2)

Two months ago I wrote to you enclosing a copy of my poem. Since which I have heard not one word from you — not even a line of acknowledgement (sic).(1)

I duly received your two letters and ‘The Beechen Tree’ for which let me thank you. My reason for not replying instanter was that I was just then making arrangements which, if fully carried out, would have enabled me to do you justice in a manger satisfactory to both of us — but these arrangements finally fell through, after my being kept in suspense for months — and I could find no good opportunity of putting in a word anywhere that would have done you service.(2)

A modest and acceptable offering to the muse, by one of our popular authors, who has heretofore given us little but good prose ... He has fine command of all forms of expression a true eye to the beautiful, a deep and natural sense of the affections, and possesses, withal, the rarer power of curbing both his imagination and his language at the point this side of curbing both his imagination and his language at the point this side of redundancy. His rhythmus is smooth and musical, and his choice of epithets peculiarly true and artistic. We do not know but we could find some blemishes in this sweet little poem if we should look very critically over its fair pages; but, at any rate, we shall not make the experiment ...

This is a very ingenious and beautiful game, to enliven a winter's evening. It is very creditable to Mr. Hamilton's taste and talent (BJ, II, 138).

This is the third edition of a book which has been exceedingly popular, and justly so. Nothing could be better adapted for the amusement of an evening party. The game is composed of fourteen questions with sixty answers each, numbered. The Oracle, for example, demands of a gentleman — ‘What is the personal appearance of her who loves you?’ The gentleman answers with any number from 1 to 60 — say 30. Turning to 30 the oracle reads as follows ... The volume is beautifully printed and bound, and forms a most appropriate present (BJ, II, 210).

... a most engaging, and admirable book, compiled after a very singular idea, by the tasteful and talented Mrs. Gilman, of South Carolina. It is a playfully contrived series of chance answers, suitable for amusement round an evening-table. The person who holds the book, asks, for instance, ‘What is the personal appearance of him who loves you?’ The individual answers by selecting a number ... we have only given answers to one question out of fourteen. The others are answered each with sixty quotations ... [page 428:] We close these long extracts with a renewed expression of our admiration at the taste of the compiler, and the ingenuity with which it was originally contrived. The getting-up of the book should not be forgotten. It is in the shape of an annual and the best of Gift-books.

Mrs. Gilman has invented a new kind of book, (‘Oracles from the Poets’, of which we gave a notice a few days ago,) and the opening Preface, very charmingly written, tries the Poets by new standards altogether.

THE AMERICAN POETS, in contradistinction to their elder and superior brethen (sic) of the fatherland, display a more marked devotion to nature, with which a continued glow of religious sentiment aptly harmonizes.

The poetry of CRABBE, though abounding in numerous characters, could furnish almost nothing for her purpose, on account of their being woven into the general strain of his narrations.

— as the living American Poets are in the process of ‘broidery’, would it not be well to know where their worsteds are deficient, that they may shop up their lacking threads in the Broadway of Contemplation? Will [page 429:] not some of our several sleeping female geniuses — (intellectual dolce-far-nientes of whom we know at least a capable dozen) — take up the American Poets and go through them with a discriminating bodkin, skewing what colors lack replenishing?(1) ... at any rate, turn up their frames of immortality and show us the wrong sides!

This, emanating as it does from one who has written so largely and so well on the diseases of children, is read by every medical mean with great cars and attention — for there is, perhaps, no writer in our language whose opinion in such matters carries with it so much authority.

His books are already so well known that our commendation is of course superfluous, but it is a subject that lies very near our hearts ... [page 430:]

... the American world was ready for his two capital books upon landscape Gardening and Cottage Residences exactly as they appeared, and no sooner. Up to this period, the few among as who possessed wealth, and were ambitious of some taste in spending it, were generally content with a faint and far-away resemblance of certain English models, in a style properly denominated the “Grecian-bewitched’, paltry and incongruous without, and completely uncomfortable within; surrounded by gardener whose principal distinctive characteristic (?)(1) was a most dogged ulilitarianism. The exceptions to this were often melancholy ones — mistaken attempts at elegance, setting all rules of art at defiance, or grotesque efforts of fancy, whose only result was the association of the owner's name with that mortifying word, “folly” ... To guide the yet incipient taste in these matters was American work was absolutely necessary; and most happily has this necessity been met by Mr. Downing's books. Here are plane and precepts suited to every scale of fortune among us; and general maxims which may be studied with almost equal profit by the householder in the crowded city, and the man of refined taste who retires, with a full purse, to embody his own idea of a rural home.

Common sense is, in every case, first considered. The pseudo-taste which slight this great basis, as condemned as paltry and contemptible.

We have hammered a good deal, without always being able to flatter ourselves that we hit the nail an the head, and so have never attempted house-carpentry... Not being yet au fait of the subject, we can only say it seems like a thing that ought to accompany the compass and square throughout our land.

But alas! libraries must be measured by the square feet, after all; and we see not how we are to have even a taste of what we love, without the aid of such well-qualified and indefatigable choosers — not of the slain, but of the undying — as Mr. Griswold. With our consent he should be gentleman — usher of the Nine; and we hope many of our readers will be of our mind.

We are not sure that the aroma of our College Homer Is still fresh enough in our nostrils to anew its to criticise this one, and understandingly: add sic we will not even swear to hawing read it through in the present handsome edition ... we congragulate [[congratulate]] our grandchildren upon a chance of reading Homer with more profit if not with more pleasure than are did.

“This is another dipper-full of fun from the reservoir of Punch.”

We have seen the proof sheets of this sterling and popular Monthly for December, and we can assure our mercantile friends that its contents are rich in valuable information.

Whatever doubt may still envelop the rationale of mesmerism, its startling facts are now almost universally, admitted (H, V, 241).

We opened this book with a strong prejudice against it, expecting to see the usual parade of wonderful performances; but we were agreeably disappointed.

The professor has taken, up then subject de novo and, instead of following in the old beaten track of Mesmer and Deluxe, Burchanan (sic) and the rest, he has attempted to bring the facts of mesmerism and phrenology into harmony with the known and admitted laws of electricity and magnetism. At first it some impassible to reduce such apparently hiterogeneous (sic) facts and assumptions as those which constitute the work of Mesmerism, to anything like a science. But Professor Grimes has done this with a degree of ingenuity and plausibility, to say the least, which commands our admiration of his talents, even if we cannot fully assent to his conclusions. If we are not greatly mistaken, this work will excite much discussion and lead to important results.

I say that those — which are the laws of mesmerism in its general features, — it would be supererogation is demonstrate ... (H, V, 242).

A morning paper commends this work, as having ‘enlisted some of the finest, most vigorous, most learned and sharpest pens in the country. Is a fine, vigorous and learned pen improved by being made a sharp one into the bargain? Our opinion is just the contrary. We hope the execution of the work will unable us to add fair to the list of commendations. [page 434:]

We received a note yesterday, in a most prepossessing lady's hand-writing, begging a review of Miss Barrett's poems, for the purpose of showing ‘the disordered state of her intellect“. We gave, in a former number of the Mirror, somewhat a similar view of Miss Barrett in an extract or two that we made . ...

The first progeny of our poetical youth — pure and prosperous”;

The child of a more tempestuous period of manhood — wayward and energetic. [page 435:]

We have made an attentive examination of this delightful and interesting work. It is a desideratum to all who value a familiar. And an accurate acquaintance with the phenomena of the heavenly bodies. Derived from the latest observations of the ablest Astronomers, and prepared by the most competent authority, it is within the comprehension of the most ordinary minds.

contains on every page the elements of poetry — but, poet though he undoubtedly is, he has published, in may instances, with too little mechanical finish. His thoughts are beautiful, and many passages are wholly and unexceptionably musical but there are lines of defective rhythm here and there which mar the beauty of his poems — read critically.

One more selection, and we must lay the volume aside for graver but less pleasant avocations.

One of the pieces of this collection attracted our attention, on its first appearance, last winter, in the ‘New Mirror’, entitled ‘The World for Sale’. The editor headed it with the remark: — ‘Here is a poem written on the tenth wave of feeling’, and so it was, and therein lies the charm.

certainly a women of ability. She not only writes well for men, but fitly and gracefully for children. This pretty book will lure many a child from toys. (sic) and noise to an hour of quiet reading.

Our language does not possess so good a digest of the unanswerable arguments furnished Christianity against scepticism.

The compiler of this book assumed an easy task, that of mere selection. He had little to do, and that little might have been done better.

It is both amusing and instructive, and in recommend it to all our young friends.

The other engravings illustrate same of the principal scenes in the history of that eventful period; and is one of the most splendid contributions of the Fine Arts to depict modern history; and a most suitable ornament far the tables of those who would unite beauteous pictorial elucidation with eloquent historical intelligence. [page 439:]

The writer does not attempt to soar into the empyrean with the eagle-pinions of Miss Barrett, nor to dally in the subtleties of love with Miss London, but contents herself with embodying, in unaffected and graceful language, the breathings of feminine thought, and domestic affection. The most fastidious narrower of the sphere of woman could not object to these effusions ... through all of them there runs an under-current of sadness, as if the writer turned ‘from all they brought to what they could not bring’. This, we believe is no affectation; and the allusion in one of the poems to a ‘widow's grief’, should enlist for her the sympathetic of the critic and the public.

He is the unapproached master of effect in drawing. The poetry of the pencil, however, is proved to be [page 440:] transferable to the pan — for Mr. Bartlett has produced a work on the Holy Land, of which he is both author and artist — It is of course a ‘curiosity of literature’ ... it would serve as a very peculiar and charming New Year's present among the people to be ‘restored’.

This book is identified alike with our language and our religion ... It is one of those books of which we never tire, and which every one aims to possess ... Since the simple discourses of Christ, enlivened for every striking and touching form of illustration, were given, Christian doctrine has been presented in dry, stately and didactic form. ‘The Pilgrim's Progress” restored the ancient simplicity and plainness. Instead of the oppressive dogmatism of catechisms, we have here a beautiful dramatic representation of the Christian life ... After an introductory portion, in which we have the ‘Life and Times of Bunyan’ served op with great spirit and clearness, he proceeds in a course (he is Mr. Cheever) of easy, familiar discussion and exquisitely beautiful lectures, to enlarge upon, and apply the vivid allegories of Bunyan, but without changing their allegorical character. He seems to have gotten into the very vein of Bunyan, and even runs into his quaint and picturesque style. His lectures are like spontaneous outgushing meditations which he cannot repress, and which seem born under the inspiration of the allegory.

That ‘The Pilgrims Progress’ is a ludicrously overrated book, owing to its seeming popularity to one or two of those accidents in critical literature which by the critical are sufficiently well understood, is a natter span which no two thinking people disagree; [page 441:] but the pleasure derivable from it, in any sense, will be found in the direct ratio of the reader's capacity to smother its true purpose. In the direct ratio of his ability to keep the allegory out of sight, or of his inability to comprehend it (GLB, XXXV, 555; H, XIII, 148-49).

The Annuals, when they are of intrinsic value, are very appropriate memorials of attachment; and to youth, when arrived at mature age, will recall the remembrance of the elder friend, who, by this gift of affection, bestows a Rose which will suit the fragrant odour of Friendship, long after the year 1845 shall have passed away.

Of all the enticing things that tempt the fancy for a holiday gift, command us to a pleasant book;(1) nothing proves so fairly a living remembrance of the giver, and nothing sat transports us by its silent and soothing eloquence. What a congregated [page 442:] heap of magnificent tomes are spread, in luxurious profusion, ever the tables of Langley's store ... not forgetting our own ‘Mirror Library’, containing, as one has said, ‘a thousand glorious gem in poesy and prose’ ... ‘We have said enough, and shall doubtless, see this admirable work (Mrs. Ellis’ book) garnishing the boudoirs of many of the fair ones on the coming day of greeting.

We certainly have improved within a fear years in the nature and quality as the presents we make to our friends ... we present them with sumptuous adornings, elegant pictorial embellishments, costly workmanship, and an intellectual feast.

Now, we enriched the idleness of our New Year's Eve by lying on our back and reading this delicious book; and we assure our readers that we do not remember six happier hours. The book is the very essence of an old poet's innermost experience —— unequalled for truth, curiousness and novelty.

The dramatic art, more than any other is essentially initiative, and thus engenders and keeps alive in its votaries the imitative propensity.

The drama, as the chief of the imitative arts, has a tendency to beget and keep alive in its votaries the imitative propensity (GLB, XXXI, 50; H, XVI, 71-2).

... may we venture to insinuate a suggestion? — It occurs to us now, and has often occurred to us, and to others before. Authors are sensitive plants — even if the veriest creeds, they are sensitive still — and. for this mason, there should be no list of principal contributors. The omitted, right. fully or wrongfully, win be sure to feel the sting of the insult, and there are same of the [page 444:] race who cannot be insulted with impunity ... Lowell has some lines to the dandelion — musical and thoughtful as his lines always are ... Of the Red Wreath what shall we say? — nothing ... The engraver's name — Doney. — is now to us; he will make a fortune, however, if he be just to himself ... but the decision and delicacy of touch throughout, would compensate for a world of such inadvertence... romance, full of brilliant fancy and nice adaptation ... then whom (Mrs. Osgood) no American poetess does more universally well ... (1)

By the way, if you have not seen Mr. Griswold's ‘American Series of the Curiosities of Literature’, then look at it, for Gods sake — or for mine. I wish you to say, upon your word of honor, whether it is, or is not, per se, the greatest of all the Curiosities of Literature, or whether it is as great a curiosity as the compiler himself. (2) [page 445:]

There can be nothing much more intrinsically valuable In the way of a literary Twelfth-Day present ... than a rich volume ...

A phrase, now and then, is not much the worse for being common, and we say emphatically of the ‘Curiosities! that no library worth the name’ is complete without it’.

We have seen the proof sheets of this sterling and popular monthly for December, and we can assure our mercantile friends that its contents are rich in valuable information.

This sterling and standard periodical for January to richly freighted with articles of value and interest to the merchants and statesmen, and indeed all who desire solid and profitable information.

An instinct of the fitting — a profound sentiment of the true, the graceful, the musical, the beautiful in every shape — enables him to construct critical principles which are thoroughly consistent with Nature, and which thus serve admirably as a substructure for Art. But it is in the power of passing behind his principles, that he utterly and radically fails (BJ, I, 253).

... and if we have expressed ourselves of the admirable work before us less warmly than may seem fitting, it is not that we fail to appreciate, or are unwilling to admit its merits, but that, we fool a sensation half of grief half of vexation, at perceiving how narrowly it has missed being more meritorious, by a hundred fold at least, than it actually is, as we now see it (BJ, I, 254).

The Essay, in particular, is one of the most complete, acuminated, and agreeable pieces of criticism that has appeared for many a day; alike distinguished for [page 447:] its easy strength of diction, its comprehension without vagueness, and its refinement without minuteness.

Some of his definitions may be objected to as partial or incomplete, or as if he mistook the true meaning of the thing; which, however, may arise, as he intimates in the case of Imagination, from the word(1) not exactly expressing the idea criticism requires or intends. Sometimes objection might be raised to his opinions ... Personal predilections, the hale of the tomb, and some bias of school have inclined him to exaggerate the powers of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats, especially the last. These kind(2) of things, however, are mere specks, not at all affecting the main character; and even these a little pruning would altogether remove.

From a paragraph I saw yesterday in the Tribune I find that Poe has been at me in the Mirror. He has at least the chief element of a critic — a disregard of persons.(2)

News, undoubtedly, I intend all this as complimentary to Mr. Longfellow, but it was for the utterance of these very opinions in the ‘New York Mirror’ that I was accused by some of the poet's friends, of inditing what they think proper to call 'strictures’ on the author of ‘Outre-Mer’ (GLB, XXXI, 122).

But this despair is a good thing, provided it be deep enough, and drives one to the right place; to the boundless treasury of Nature, who has more words than we have thoughts, and cannot be exhausted.

Let the poet cover his all-holding retinue With tine bright ferns of stars and flowers for the fastidious [page 450:] muse to select from to compose her bouquet, we shall no longer hear complaints of the inadequacy of the power of expression.

We have a few word's more to say of “The Waif”, but we may as well say then to-morrow ...

For the ‘Evening Mirror’ of January 14, before my editorial connection with the ‘Broadway Journal’, I furnished a brief criticism on Professor Longfellow's ‘waif’ (BJ, I, 147; H, XII, 41).

Not long ago I pointed out in the ‘New York Mirror’ and more fully, since, in “The Broadway Journal’, a very decided case of similarity between ‘A Death-Bed’ by Mr. Aldrich, and ‘The Death-Bed’, by Thomas Hood (DR, [[XVIII, 269]]; H, XVI, [[96]]).

A broadly satirical article, oddly entitled ‘The Literary Life of Thingum Bob Esq., late Editor of the Goosetherumfoodle’, and which appeared originally in that ’Southern Literary Messenger’ for December, has been the subject of much comment lately, in the Southern and Western papers, and the query is put to us especially, here in the North, — ‘who wrote it?’ ‘Who did? — can any one tell?

The name of the author of these volumes (hereafter to be indispensable to a library) is sometimes confounded with that of the Scotch writer of our own times... [page 452:]

The present work (a posthumous one) was deduced from those State papers ... Its value lies in revealing the kind of information the ministers reviewed from their agents in America.

This is the title of a circular which embodies a large amount of valuable information for the Irish immigrants is this country — indeed for any immigrants — and to the people of the United States...Ths general tone of this circular, and the fund of sound advice which it embraces, are nothing more than we had a right to expect from the highly respectable and influential gentleman who subscribe it ...

This discourse is an extraordinary one, full of novel and cogent thought, and will be widely circulated and admired.

A day or two ago, in noticing a book by Mr. Lowell, we ventured open certain propositions which are thus disputed by our friends of the ‘Tribune’. [page 453:]

Among other able papers, we notice a critique on Miss Barrett's poems, awarding her high praise, of course, but condemning the ‘Drama of Exile’, as a whole. The criticism throughout, is candid, discriminative and just.

There is a freshness about the editorial papers, in especial, which cannot fail to create an impression. If keen wit, bold thought, and general raciness can make a paper, the ‘Broadway Journal’ is made.

It has occasioned papers of high merit — but a Magazine is neither made nor sustained by merely occasional papers, however good.

Through inadvertence, while penning, yesterday, a paragraph expressing our admiration of certain critical notices which appeared in a morning paper, we wrote ‘Tribune’, when we should nave written ‘Morning News’. The criticisms to which we referred were in the latter ...

We observe, in a notice of the ‘Broadway Journal’, a new aspirant for public favor, that Mr. D.(1) speaks of a Review of Miss Barrett's Poems as if it were condemnatory. We should be sorry indeed, if any general disparagement were intended of the most extraordinary woman of her age — perhaps of any age. Our impression, however, is that the critic of the Broadway Journal meant only, by a few unimportant objections, to place her pre-eminent merits in the best light. But perhaps this is Mr. D's impression also, and we have misconceived him.

... under the editorial conduct of the Rev. C. Sparry, a gentleman who will not fail to make a magazine of merit and utility. ‘No peace with Rome’ is the motte of the work, and indicates its purpose with full precision.

These are the experiments, which, with an amusing simplicity, the North American gives us to understand are to be found in any of our schoolbooks. [page 456:]

Should such an article appear in the London Foreign Quarterly, or in any of those journals which systematically abuse everything that comes from America, we could at once appreciate the motive ... A course allusion to ‘medical students’ leads us to suspect that there has entered into the affair something connected with the rivalries of medical colleges ... However that may be, the North American Review stands charged with gross ‘ignorance’ by a pretty competent authority; and it behooves the editors, if he means hereafter to criticise scientific books, to extricate himself from that charge.

The criticisms on the ‘Waif’ which lately appeared in this paper, were written in our office by an able though very critical hand, and we give the following reply to them from an able friend of Longfellow's in Boston. We add also the reply to the ‘reply’, and declare the field upon ...

The books used in the American schools have also been a heterogeneous mass of extracts from foreign writers, [page 457:] without any moral, without any design, without any particular influence. They have been selected without any regard to American principles or feelings, and have no strong impression on the ind of the young scholar ... there are no extracts which will confuse or endanger the opinions of the scholar with regard to fact, either in moral, religious, or philosophical points of view. There are no fictitious dialogues between animals, none between mock heroes, no falsification of history — no imaginary illustration of truth ... There is nothing which his teacher would wish him to pass by or forget ... we need not new fear that instruction in the art of reading will carry with it any bad consequences, in opinions, in words, or in conduct.

One must be very good-natured indeed, not to consider Byron's ‘There's not a joy this world can give’, as [page 458:] the original of Mr. Cox's ‘Oh! where's the hope like morning's star‘; and the attentive reader will find resemblances equally obvious throughout the volume. Yet there is a quaintness in several of the pieces a kind of antique elegance, such as grows naturally from much reading of the elder English.

As we read on, praising sometimes the smoothness of the verse, and sometimes the piety of the sentiment we are unavoidably reminded of poet after poet whose verses are better known to us ...T. H. Bayly, Pinckney, Moore, Bishop, Heber, Percival, Muhlenberg. Longfellow, Byron — we take a few names in the order is which they occur to us — recur unavoidably; and this, without quite making us set down the reverend author as a plagiarist ... And Mr. C. will, perhaps, remind us that, according to Colerigde, ‘To criticize such trifles, shows nothing, except that you are not the person for whom they wre written’, and we forbear ...

It is a much more difficult task, however, is account far the diffuseness which affects our literature, properly so called,(1) and perhaps, were we to attempt the achievement, we should have to speak of climactic, or at least of strictly national, traits ... However objectionable, nevertheless, this diffuseness may be, we had rather see it more prevalent than see the, species of concision which has lately been introduced [page 459:] among us, through imitation of that prophet in great and quack in little matters, Carlyle.

The true object of concision is to save time, not in saving words, but in saving thought. — That style, therefore, is the most truly concise which most rapidly transmits the sense. The style is not concise, however few the words, if the sense is impeded by unusualities of construction. With this understanding we may call Judge Marshall concise, and Carlyle, with Gibbon, diffuse. ‘Those are mad who admire the brevity which squanders our time for the purposes of economizing our printing-ing (sic) and paper’.

Such concision is, nevertheless, an error, and, so far as respects the true object of concision is a bull. The most truly concise style is that which most rapidly transmits the sense. What, then, should be said of the concision of Carlyle? — that those are mad who admire a brevity which squanders our time for the purpose of economizing our printing-ink and paper (DR., IV, 489; H, XVI, ???).

... the finely humorous and fanciful paper ... Some of the best things in our literature have been done by the author of ‘The Mound-Builders‘; and we regret for our own sakes, that the opinion we here express is more general in England than in America. Among the really illustrious Londoners who have done justice to Mr. M., we may mention Elizabeth Barrett and Douglas Jerrold. [page 460:]

is just published, and manifests, as usual, the discrimination and taste of its editors.

It is only at distant intervals, that great discoveries are made in these branches of science that have long been subjects of attention and interest. When once made, they strike us with surprise, not as much at the sagacity which has been manifested in the investigation, and the extraordinary success which has attended it, but that they should so long have escaped the attention of the curious and profound ... The fable and fact of the early ages are much better ascertained and distinguished in these volumes than they were by the contemporaries of Cicero. The style appears to us admirable adapted to the subject; earnest and dignified; in fact, as it [page 461:] should be, very Roman. Though not graceful, it is energetic and impressive; judging of it from the translation, which alone we have seen, this is well executed, and as little German as any translation can well be.

Did any body ever hear a French friend — possessed with the conviction of his complete knowledge of English on the strength of three month's practice — undertake to read aloud Shakspeare or Byron;(1) The smash which the adventurous Gaul is sure to make of the wonderful music of the great Dramatist's verse, or of Byron's strong rhythm, is about equal to the execution done on Latin verse by ninety-nine in every hundred of the classical scholars turned out yearly by our schools and colleges...There is in the verses of the two Augustan gentlemen much in the way of cadences and harmonies ...Mr. Casserly's publication... is marked pleasantly by much seal and enthusiasm for his art, — and altogether strikes us as the best book extant, to teach one to read Latin verse with gentlemanly correctness...

This print is a beautifully illuminated facsimile of the Genealogy of the family of the ‘Father of his Country’, as supplied by the British Herald's College, to Augustine Washington, the father of the general, in the year 1750, and contains at one view, their history for upwards of three centuries. This illuminations consists (sic) of the arms of the family and alliances emblazined in gold and colors, and as a work of art, is highly creditable to the artist and worthy of a place(1) in every parlor. Mr. Coleman the publisher, has, we think acted wisely, in publishing this beautiful record of our country's illustrious hero, at a price so small as to put it within the reach of every citizens (sic).

The work before us consists of the genealogical tee of the Washington family, the same as made out in the British Herald's College, for Augustine Washington, of Virginia., the father of our illustrious Patriot, and gives at one glance, their family history from the time of Richard III. up to the death of George Washington, a period exceeding 300 years. It is printed in gold end colors, with the blazonry of the Washingtons and their alliances. As a work of art alone, it would be worthy a place in every parlor(2), did it not relate to one whose memory lives in the hearts of every lover of his country; and we are pleased to see that Mr. Coleman has published it at a price so low as to bring it within the easy acquisition of all our citizens (BJ, I, 35).

Had Poe written both, there would be nothing strange, for obviously the first is modelled on the second, which appeared first, or else on a common source. After the notice in the Journal is printed in parenthesis “ (Communicated). ” After none of the Poe reviews in the Journal is there [page 463:] any sort of an ascription or explanation, save for the Outis articles, which are signed “P.” Nor does the first part of the notice sound like Poe. There would certainly be no point in the Mirror critic's — be it Poe or Willis — taking the trouble to paraphrase a notice from the Journal. Had he planned to use that notice he would have copied it exactly, acknowledging its source; such transferred notices one finds not unfrequently in the Mirror. It is likely that the two reviewers got their material from a publisher‘s preface or blurb. The Journal notice may actually be Mr. Coleman's advertisement. The Mirror notice is probably, I think, Willis’.

Having now perused it, we have no hesitation in pronouncing it one of the best Reviews of the quarter ... We know no foreign Review, whose general tone is more favorable to American institutions or to American productions, and this should secure its successive numbers a favorable reception amongst us.

its scurrilous and frequent attacks on Mr. Cooley and other respectable citizens. A gentleman now edits it, however, and the ‘metamorphosis’ has delighted every body. The New World is no longer an arena, ‘to manage private and domestic broils‘; but a well conducted sheet, worthy alike of commendation(1) of the press and the support of the community. We welcome it to our fire-side and wish it every success.

This ancient chronicle of American Science (the quarterly remembrances of our literary mother Yale College) is just published.

Its stability will be assured for the future, we presume, if an no other ground than that of the absolute need which the South has of some such organ, in the present aspect of her political affairs. [page 465:]

This is a well-written review, and embraces some novel conceptions of the extraordinary man of whom it treats.

The idea is to afford in a single book of no very formidable dimensions, and at a price which brings it within the reach of very moderate circumstances, a sufficient outline of the worlds whole history, with similar outlines of the history of each individual people. The historian gives first a general sketch of the rise and progress of nations, with their influences one upon the ether — secondly, a digest of all absolutely necessary to be known by the general reader respecting each — thus bringing the salient points of history within a manageable compass and laying a solid and safe foundation for future superstructures.

Asa Kinne, Esq., very favorably known as the author of nmepus legal works which tend to simplify the science,(1) and which have received warm approbation from these whose approbation is of most value, has issued the first number of a series, the object of which is distinctly explained by the title ...

We must be permitted to doubt, however, whether he has been at all concerned in selecting the name of the new journal. ‘The Southern and Western Monthly Magazine and Review’ is assuredly a speech if anything. But apart from the mere matter of ‘linked sweetness long drawn out’, the words in question are no more a proper name for the work intended, than man is a proper name for the individual biped, without feathers.

... a work which has done more, perhaps, than any other single American book to elevate the character of our literature and give us caste in Europe. How universally it has been greeted with applause as an original, impartial, comprehensive, and elegant history — elegant yet forcible — it is quite unnecessary for us to say. If ever work of the kind was firmly based in the good opinion of all who are qualified to form an opinion on the subject, it is ‘Ferdinand and Isabella’ ... To every library the work is an essential item.

The Broadway Journal for last week in overflowing with good things(1) the shape sound and pungent criticism, notices of the Fine Arts, and racy editorial and contributed matter in general. It is a frank, bold, nervous, discriminative and altogether excellent journal. [page 467:]

A friend, who is a very fine critic, gave us, not long since, a review of this delightful new book.

now, however, without mentally differing from the writer as to the drift of his last sentence,

It (Wilde's Tasso) was an admirable book in its way — the best specimen o f historical criticism, indeed, the country has produced... Nathaniel Hawthorne's admirable ‘Twice Told Tales’ are out of prim. Thy will no one give us a new impression, and the modest author a couple of thousands? We hazard nothing with the appreciative reader, when we say that neither [page 468:] Blackwood in its palmiest(1) days, nor any periodical, Indeed, in England, has contained tales of as high a character as this author has produced tales so remarkable for humor, feeling, fancy, or imaginations and yet he goes begging for a publisher here, in the metropolis of his own country.

No paper in the work. is even indifferent. All are good — some admirable. To notice especially an article by a gentleman who never does otherwise than well (Mr. Duyckinck) on the ‘Literary Prospects’ of the country for 1845. With the hand on the heart we thank Mr. D. for this essays, which, at the present crisis, is the one thing needed. It will do infinite service to the good cause — te the cause of troth, of free and hearty speaking and thinking, self-dependence, force, and originality, in contra. distinction from the supine and despicable imitativeness, namby-pambyism, and subserviency to foreign opinion which have so long and so disastrously kept our literature grovelling in the earth.

It is but a few days since we were called upon to speak of Mr. Colton's very promising ‘American Review’ ...

To the ‘French Spoliations’ our friends will remember that we were particularly indebted in our late editorial article on that important subject. [page 469:]

She is a woman of genius, with feeling and fancy. We shall do our duty on the appearance of the volume, which can hardly fail of success.

An experiment has recently been made ... to introduce into the English theatre the classic drama of ancient Greece, depending for its effect, not on the material and the commonplace resources of the stage, scenery, incident, and bustling action, but on the ideal of poetry, and the grand and truthful in art. We allude to the production in an English dress, at Covent-Garden theatre, of the Antigone of Sophocles; which, in spite of the contrary productions (sic) of the cognoscenti, was received by a highly distingue audience and a crowded house, with the most enthusiastic applause and decided approbation ... The play itself — its conduct, its deep and imposing grandeur, its magnificent declamation, its terrible catastrophe, its awful declineation of the overhanging fate, the inevitable destiny — all these were fully appreciated ... The [page 470:] acting of Mr. Vandenhoff, as Creon, and Miss Vandenhoff, as Antigone, is spoken of by the London press as quite in keeping with the classic and massive dignity of the passion of the poem ... This may be looked upon as a triumph of the spiritual cover the material, of the fact over the scene-painter and the costume, (for the play was unsupported effects, or the usual gauds of dress and display;) and we, therefore, hail it as some promise of the revival of a better taste in theatricals, which will one day put an end to the reign of ‘dumb-show and noise’, and give us a higher appreciation of dramatic history, and of the truthful and classical in art.

Our readers are aware that the ‘Antigone’ of Sophocles has been lately brought out at Berlin, at Paris, and at London. In the two former cities the success might be called decided in the usual theatrical acceptation of the term — that is to say, the house was sufficiently full every night, and the nights of representation were sufficiently numerous to remunerate the management. At London there was less enthusiasm (whether true or false) and the announcement that the tragedy was there ‘performed with extraordinary success’ must be swallowed cum grano salis: — the phrase, indeed, is by far too strong for either the Berlin or Paris attempt ... there is about the ‘Antigone’ ... an insufferable baldness, or platitude, the inevitable result of inexperience in Art ... The profound sense of one or two tragic, or rather melo-dramatic elements (such as the idea of inexorable Destiny) — this sense, gleaming at intervals from out the darkness of the ancient stage, serves, in the imperfection of its development, to show not the dramatic ability, but the dramatic inability of the ancients ... The idea of a Greek play before a modern audience is the idea of a pedant and nothing beyond ... Had the ‘Antigone’ been produced with all classical appliances — a monstrous folly still it would have been — but of the numerous schoolboys who were present an the opening night, there was not one who could have failed to laugh in his sleeve at the medley of anachronisms — solecisms — sotticisms — which rendered the whole affair an unintentional burlesque (BJ, I, 236-37; H, ???,???). [[page 471 is left blank, or skipped due to misnumbering.]] [page 472:]

‘Rome, as soon by a New-Yorker’ is the modest title of a volume by a gentleman with whom we have long been more or less associated in literary labor, and with whose mind, through the columns of the old Mirror, the public have, for years,, been most favorably acquainted. To knew so wall the mental qualities by which the book is guided — the elegance of taste, purity and good judgment — that we are scarcely prepared to criticize it as a new book — a little, perhaps, from being as familiar with the subject of the book as with the writer's mind.

We understand that Graham is in town, playing the phoenix to his brother's ashes — (when a man's books are burnt, [page 473:] those are ‘his ashes” we presume!) and this the younger Graham will spread his wings again (open his window-shutters that is to say) in a few days, brighter, for being consumed by fire. We were talking the other day, of the Canadian fashion of ... His Magazine is a fine feature in the history of enterprise, tact and good taste, and the March number, now before us, adds another as bright a link as those that have gone before.

To satisfy a friend we say that if our playful notice of our assistant critic's notice of Longfellow's ‘Waif’ a few days since, did not give the impression that we (Willis) fully dissented from our assistant ...

The British reviewers have very frequently accused us of imitation, and the charge is undoubtedly well based. We imitate however, chiefly the British models, and in doing this, we act only in a natural manner. just as it might have been demonstrated a priori that we should and must have acted under the circumstances. All colonies have shown a proneness to ape the mother country in arts and letters. But the sin of imitativeness in general lies, we think, at the door of our legislators. The want of an international copy-right law renders it impossible for our men of genius to obtain remuneration for their labors. Now since, as a body, men of genius are proverbially poor, the want of the international law represses their efforts altogether. Our sole writers, in consequence, are from the class of dilettanti: and although among this class are unquestionably many gifted men, still as a class — as men of wealth and leisure — they are [page 474:] imbued with a spirit of conservatism, which is merely a mood of the imitative spirit. But apart from this consideration, we must observe that to imitate is a matter of less effort than to originate; and we must not expect effort, as a general thing, certainly not as a continuous thing, from those whose condition is affluence and ease.

We get more reading for less money than if the international law existed; but the remoter disadvantages are of infinitely greater weight. In brief they are these: First, we have injury to our national literature by repressing the efforts of our men of genius; for genius, as a general rule, is poor in worldly goods and cannot write for nothing. Our genius being thus repressed, we are written at only by our ‘gentlemen of elegant leisure”, and mere gentlemen of elegant leisure have been noted, time out of minds for the insipidity of their productions. In general, too, they are obstinately conservatives and this fooling leads them into imitation of foreign, more especially of British models. This is one main source of imitativeness with which, as a peoples, ore have been justly charged, although the first cause is to be found in our position as a colony. Colonies have always naturally aped the mother land (GLB, XXXI, 120-1; H, XVI, 78-9).

Judge Conrad is widely known as the author of one of the allowed best American tragedies, ‘Aylmere’, written with an especial care to the dramatic abilities of Mr. Forrest, and for that reason, defective in some important particulars, Nothing so paralyses the soul of a man of genius as a restriction of this nature ... A biography of this gentleman, which, although highly complimentary, did him no more than absolute justice, appeared recently, with a portrait in ‘Graham's Magazine’. [page 475:]

‘Aylmere’, or ‘Jack Cadet, was written come years after.. ward; and, in its composition, the dramatist had to contend with the great perplexity of moulding his principal character to the mental and physical conformation of the actor for whom it was expressly designed. This actor was Mr. Forrest...The genius of an author — and very especially of the dramatic author — should be left totally untrammeled. Even the semblance of a restriction — even a purely imaginary restraint — is all-potent to dampen the true ardor of the poet (GM, XXIV, 242).

lately acquired so much distinction as the inventor, or at least one of the inventors of the electric light ... we are assured, through Mr. Saunders himself, that Professor Farraday expresses himself in warm terms, not only in respect to the importance of the new light, but in regard to the claims of Mr. Saunders as its inventor. Mr. S. is the Milton J. Saunders who has, for so long a time, occupied a favorable position in Western Literature. Some of his sketches of Indian atrocity, and of Indian ‘perils by field and flood’ have been remarkable for their vivid and thrilling interest.

This pamphlet, the consideration of whose suggestions was coldly rejected by the Fathers of the city, is well worthy the perusal of all(1) — Fathers, Mothers, and Children ... Would that many more such heroes might rise among us, for nowhere are they more needed ... Why need we be constantly building new prisons, when the outlays necessary for them judiciously applied in the way of prevention would obviate a necessity for any? [page 476:]

About a month ago a very eminent critic connected with this paper, took occasion to point out a parallelism between certain lines of Thomas Hood, and certain ethers which appeared in the collection of American poetry edited by Mr. Griswold. Transcribing the passages, he ventured the assertion that 'somebody is a thief’. (He goes on below to speak for himself.)

Also in a number of the “Mirror” for 1845 the Editor tells of a very eminent critic connected with his paper finding a resemblance between a poem by James Aldrich and one by Thomas Hood. Circumstances have led me to believe that you were that critic. Am I right in this?(1)

The critic alluded to by Willis as connected with the Mirror, and as having found a parallel between Hood and Aldrich is myself.(2)

In the meantime Mr. Brigg's — in this paper — did me the honor of taking me to task„ for what he supposed to be my insinuations against Mr. Aldrich. My reply (in the ‘Mirror’), prefaced by a few words from Mr. Willis, ran as follows (BJ, I, 148; H, XII, 44).

We have had occasion more than once to remark on the evident ill consequences of the lack of experience in our public offices, owing to frequent changes in office.

The seal of fifteen years is set upon his former work ... It is fitting that the closing acts of the grand drama should be by the same hand that so worthily portrayed its opening in ‘The French Revolution’.

In reading through Mary Howitt's Tales for the People and their children as they have successively appeared — our minds have often been led to ponder upon the diversity. of materials and character which size has embodied and the forcible ‘truthfulness in which she has arrayed, her living examples of virtue and waywardness ... Mothers will be fitly engaged in first reading Mary Howitt's story, and then they should give it to their girls.

We can only wish the ‘Introduction’ the place which is justly its own, among American works of learned research. In theology and Biblical criticism, our country stands confessedly on a par with England ... The learned and inquiring, all who are interested, (and who is not?) in Bible and Church History, will find this book an invaluable addition to their libraries. It aims to settle, by the most extensive and thorough research, that point in chronology upon which thousands of subordinate, yet very important particulars depend — the era of our Saviour's birth ... a merit to be praised and prized for its rarity in these oculist-enriching days. (We must [page 478:] be excused for coining a compound, which will soon necessarily be naturalized among us, if we do not get a copy-right law.)

We have called the attention of our readers to this work in a notice of the Westminster Review, but its remarkable merits entitle it to a separate consideration.

The review of the ‘Life and Correspondence of Thomas Arnold’ we commend to all our readers, but not more than the book itself, which is one of the very best of the day.

A delicate and piquant offering from the heart of spindle-dom — a charming little souvenir of Goethe. Its very gray-green cover, and goblin-looking back, look so vaterlandisch, that one expects to find crabbed-looking text within, but, instead of such, type clear as diamond, clear enough to tell even Margaret's story, meets the eye ...

The Countess is one of those authoresses whose books are enjoyable if read with kind allowance. She uses authorship to let off the bath of conversation in which she swims nightly, and though it all breathes of her ladyship, it is colder than when she first made it enchanting. The [page 479:] following review and distilment of her book, is from the London Examiner, written doubtless by Fonblanque, who had heard said at table the good things he quotes from the book ...

A Chinese story by Mrs. C. A. Butler, a lady who has, we are informed, been on the spot — and who is certainly a very spirited and agreeable writer about things an this wide of the obs; the spirit-love full of the love-spirit ... a sterling(1) story by Mrs. Ellis.

Fancy a few of the customs of the ‘most polite nation’ introduced into New York! What would ‘Mrs. Grundy’ say of ...

Funny place, France! Yet in no country that we were ever in, seemed woman so insincerely worshipped — so mocked with the shadow of power over men. We should think it as great a curiosity to see a well-bred Frenchman lovesick (when he supposed himself alone) as to see an angel tipsy or a marble bust in tears ... We remember once asking a French nobleman ...

we hope it may have an influence in convicing [[convincing]] if not ‘man’, at least some men, that woman was born for better things than to ‘cook him something good’.

We mentioned yesterday Hiss Fuller's new book, end today a very able friend has handed us a comparative notice of this and another, lately published in England! on the same subject — the latter called ‘The Rights Of Woman’. Our Friend says: —

... we would rather trust with her than sneer with the Quarterly ... ‘Be ye warmed’ is sometimes not ill; ‘ye will be warmed’ encouragingly spoken is oftentimes well; but better than, all is to set about kindling the fire. This Miss Fuller does, and he must be cold indeed, who does not catch some glow from her warm and animated page.

... too many promises have been distorted amid too many analogical inferences left altogether out of sight. I mean to say that the intention of the Deity as regards sexual differences has not been sufficiently considered. Miss Fuller has erred, too, through her own excessive objectiveness. She judges woman by the heart and intellect of Miss Fuller, but there are not more than one or two dozen Miss Fullers on the whole face of the earth (GLB, XXXIII. 72; H, XVI, 74-5).

... we will try to enjoy the feast, while the American public, through its magnanimous Congress refuses payment for its share to the host by whose toil and skill the entertainment is provided.

There is wanting not only the outline but the filling up, at least enough of it to exhibit the prominent features of the passing actors, and the characteristics of the scenery as they, have been exhibited both in the anterior and more recent periods. [page 482:]

We have before given an opinion of hydropathy — that with its adjuncts of abundance of pure air and out-door exercise, an entire change of habit, a strict, yet nutritious change of regimen, a cheerful tone in both physician and patient, together with the rest in favor of the please and the man — this system would cure most curable complaints.

Pure air, regular hours, wholesome diet, a cheerful tone, and the prestige in favor of the plan, will, in nine cases out of ten, restore health (WM, 55).

Professor Bush deserves, in our estimation, that highest commendation, for giving publicity to his view of this important scriptural truth.. These views differ widely from those commonly received(1) by the religious world, and it is rare, indeed, to meet with the boldness which has been exhibited on this occasion. The religious body to which Professor Bush belongs, has silenced and deposed members, and that, too, in recent years, for much less important innovations in received doctrine than those brought forward in this publication ... In any event, the fact of the immemorial doctrine of that church,, and of the church in general, is an evidence of advance in the independence with which theological subjects are discussed. We are not called upon to give our opinion of the author's views ... we heartily recommend the work to the philosophical and the pious.

There can be no doubt, that up to this period, the Bushites have had the best of the battle. The ‘Anastasis’ is lucidly, succinctly, vigorously, and logically written, and proves, in my opinion, everything it attempts provided that we omit the imaginary axioms from [page 483:] which it starts; and this is as much as can be well said of any theological disquisition under the Sun (DR, XVIII, 270; H, XVI, 97-98).