Text: Edgar Allan Poe (?), Literary, Broadway Journal (New York), October 18, 1845, vol. 2, no. 15, p. ???, col. ?

[page 297, column 1, continued:]

Critical Notices.

THE editor's temporary absence from the city, will account to our publishing friends for present neglect of several new works. These will be attended to on his return.

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Wiley & Putnam's Library of American Books. No. VIII. Big Abel and The Little Manhattan. By Cornelius [[Cornelius]] Mathews.

In our notice of this work, a week or two since, we promised a quotation, by way of instancing the author's very peculiar style and tone. We proceed now to redeem our word, by copying some passages from the episode, or rather interlude, of the Poor Scholar and his Mistress. These passages are, perhaps, as idiosincratic as any in the volume:

Turning, at a bend, they found, in the heart of the bend itself, the very thing they looked for, a little garden or house of refreshment. Not much of a garden; a slip of the size of a handkerchief; green, too; and a fountain (something very small in the way of a fountain); and bowers, ever so many of them, at least three in number. And here, while they were getting served by a nice mistress of the place, as busy in all her motions as though she had opened that morning, and heard a couple of hundred calling her all at once, with cream, and cakes, and fruit (Lankey's part was fruit alone), there drew nearer to a bower; it was the centre, and pride of the garden that was waiting for them; two young persons, one of them very pale, the other all a-glow.

Was ever a Poor Scholar's mistress in such spirits before! And then the way in which she took possession of the bower; if the green chair had been of solid gold she could'nt have treated it more grandly. Three rape of the knuckles, and there was a banquet — not much of a one, to be sure — but what of that! William bad something to say, that was clear; but such spirits as Mary's — why the stoutest man living would have quailed before them, much less a poor scholar.

“The Book's to be printed, Will? I believe you admit that at last!”

“To be sure it is — they’ve accepted it.”

“A happy time of it for the printers, now! turning all your gentle fancies out upon the page; making your mirth laugh, your sorrow weep; your little men and women grow again in light, and take a shape to every human eye, all the wide world over! — Oh what dreams they’ll have the first night. They’ll not sleep a wink, I fear, with all your magic over!”

Foolish Mary!

“And then the binder's girls, who have the folding of them daintily! Many a clipping of wages will they lose this very week, lingering, as they should not, naughtily about that wicked Book!”

Mary, too fanciful by half.

“Tuesday, now! By Friday, at the latest, that little bright-eyed, clean-apparelled gentleman (your Book, I mean, Will) must come own stairs, and begin to see company! Oh for the first look at his sweet and cheerful face!” [column 2:]

In the young Scholars heart that was settled long ago.

“The show-bills, now! All over town, speaking up, with fresh, clean looks! Coaxing every one to slop and read! Every one to hurry in and buy! and then away to taste the dainty to his core!”

Was there ever such a foolish, thoughtless mistress to a Poor Scholar; all the world over?

She stopped and looked at Will as though she saw a Blessed Spirit, stepped out from the sun, and not a mortal man. But he was very pale, and still had something to say, and now could say it.

You forget Germany, Mary!” That was what he had to say.

No: she didn’t She reccollected it perfectly well; it was in all the maps, upon the globes, and hung up in the windows- But in this connection she didn’t reccollect it, she confessed. What was Germany to this?

She hadn’t heard of a famous Rendering or translation out of that country, that was talked about, a mighty book, with such a power of chains, by way of binding up and riveting the reader; such a thrilling, enchanting, wonderful and miraculous book? Strange, she hadn’t heard of that I That was the Book?

What, to come betwixt this Book of William's and the light of day?

William was pale, I said, and Mary now, too. Had those men who played these changeful tricks stood there, or sate within that bower, they must have been torn piece-meal, limb by limb, by little angry devils, leaping out of Mary's eyes, a score at once, and many score!

When they had gone forth, Big Abel and Lanky (how Poor William and his mistress got away, heaven, whence it came from, knows!), the shower was deepening, and they made quickly for a house not far away. And there it was. That little, tidy, shining palace of brick; palace it is in the spirit within; sitting by itself; in cleanliness and purity, and through all the falling rain eyeing calmly all passers-by with his little winking knob and bell-pull.

At home? The ladies of this mansion are always at home, and have been any time these fifty years. A snug parlor, everything tidy, everything in a high state of polish, everything demure and settled calmly in his place. The plaster-rabbits on the mantel, not zoologically perfect, inasmuch as the necks are movable, and have no visible appurtenance to the bodies; and yet, to the mind, all that could be reasonably expected of rabbits under such circumstances. A little door is slided open, and out of a back room a nice, comfortable, smiling body — Seventy! Yes; this was the youngest of the two maiden sisters, Big Abel's friends, living here. Pretty good for Seventy! Cheerful, quick of speech and gait, and cordial, too, as the days of hearty June are long. Another appearance out of the back room — Eighty! Not so tall, nor quite so stout, but more cheerful, quicker of motion, decidedly more cordial. There was a great shaking of hands, I tell you, there! No difference made between fair-looking Abel and the swarthy Lanltey — not the least) Talk! Plenty of it; and after that there came, out of the back room, too, a little square table, which was suddenly clothed (by Eighty) with a snowy cloth, and put in possession (by Seventy) of a little family of cups and saucers, then of a dainty pile of toast, then of a cold ham, then of a steaming pot, and the little table was set up in the world, and ready to do business.