CHAPTER XXII.

Harley L'Estrange is seated beside Helen at the lattice-window in the cottage at Norwood. The bloom of reviving health is on the child's face, and she is listening with a smile, for Harley is speaking of Leonard with praise, and of Leonard's future with hope. "And thus," he continued, "secure from his former trials, happy in his occupation, and pursuing the career he has chosen, we must be content, my dear child, to leave him."

"Leave him!" exclaimed Helen, and the rose on her cheek faded.

Harley was not displeased to see her emotion. He would have been disappointed in her heart if it had been less susceptible to affection.

"It is hard on you, Helen," said he, "to separate you from one who has been to you as a brother. Do not hate me for doing so. But I consider myself your guardian, and your home as yet must be mine. We are going from this land of cloud and mist, going as into the world of summer. Well, that does not content you. You weep, my child; you mourn your own friend, but do not forget your father's. I am alone, and often sad, Helen; will you not comfort me! You press my hand, but you must learn to smile on me also. You are born to be the Comforter. Comforters are not egotists; they are always cheerful when they console."

The voice of Harley was so sweet, and his words went so home to the child's heart, that she looked up and smiled in his face as he kissed her ingenuous brow. But then she thought of Leonard, and felt so solitary--so bereft--that tears burst forth again. Before these were dried, Leonard himself entered, and obeying an irresistible impulse, she sprang to his arms, and, leaning her head on his shoulder, sobbed out, "I am going from you, brother--do not grieve--do not miss me."

Harley was much moved; he folded his arms, and contemplated them both silently--and his own eyes were moist. "This heart," thought he, "will be worth the winning!"

He drew aside Leonard, and whispered--"Soothe, but encourage and support her. I leave you together; come to me in the garden later."

It was nearly an hour before Leonard joined Harley.

"She was not weeping when you left her?" asked L'Estrange.

"No; she has more fortitude than we might suppose. Heaven knows how that fortitude has supported mine. I have promised to write to her often."

Harley took two strides across the lawn, and then, coming back to Leonard, said, "Keep your promise, and write often for the first year, I would then ask you to let the correspondence drop gradually."

"Drop!--Ah, my Lord!"

"Look you, my young friend, I wish to lead this fair mind wholly from the sorrows of the Past. I wish Helen to enter, not abruptly, but step by step, into a new life. You love each other now, as do two children--as brother and sister. But later, if encouraged, would the love be the same? And is it not better for both of you, that youth should open upon the world with youth's natural affections free and unforestalled?"

"True! And she is so above me," said Leonard mournfully.

"No one is above him who succeeds in your ambition, Leonard. It is not _that_, believe me!"

Leonard shook his head.

"Perhaps," said Harley, with a smile, "I rather feel that you are above me. For what vantage-ground is so high as youth? Perhaps I may become jealous of you. It is well that she should learn to like one who is to be henceforth her guardian and protector. Yet, how can she like me as she ought, if her heart is to be full of you?"

The boy bowed his head; and Harley hastened to change the subject, and speak of letters and of glory. His words were eloquent, and his voice kindling; for he had been an enthusiast for fame in his boyhood; and in Leonard's, his own seemed to him to revive. But the poet's heart gave back no echo--suddenly it seemed void and desolate. Yet when Leonard walked back by the moonlight, he muttered to himself, "Strange--strange--so mere a child, this can not be love! Still what else to love is there left to me?"

And so he paused upon the bridge where he had so often stood with Helen, and on which he had found the protector that had given to her a home--to himself a career. And life seemed very long, and fame but a dreary phantom. Courage, still, Leonard! These are the sorrows of the heart that teach thee more than all the precepts of sage and critic.

Another day and Helen had left the shores of England, with her fanciful and dreaming guardian. Years will pass before our tale reopens. Life in all the forms we have seen it travels on. And the Squire farms and hunts; and the parson preaches and chides and soothes. And Riccabocca reads his Machiavelli, and sighs and smiles as he moralizes on Men and States. And Violante's dark eyes grow deeper and more spiritual in their lustre; and her beauty takes thought from solitary dreams. And Mr. Richard Avenel has his house in London, and the honorable Mrs. Avenel her opera box; and hard and dire is their struggle into fashion, and hotly does the new man, scorning the aristocracy, pant to become aristocrat. And Audley Egerton goes from the office to the Parliament, and drudges, and debates, and helps to govern the empire on which the sun never sets. Poor Sun, how tired he must be--but none more tired than the Government! And Randal Leslie has an excellent place in the bureau of a minister, and is looking to the time when he shall resign it to come into Parliament, and on that large arena turn knowledge into power. And meanwhile, he is much where he was with Audley Egerton; but he has established intimacy with the Squire, and visited Hazeldean twice, and examined the house and the map of the property--and very nearly fallen a second time into the Ha-ha; and the Squire believes that Randal Leslie alone can keep Frank out of mischief, and has spoken rough words to his Harry about Frank's continued extravagance. And Frank does continue to pursue pleasure; and is very miserable, and horribly in debt. And Madame di Negra has gone from London to Paris, and taken a tour into Switzerland, and come back to London again, and has grown very intimate with Randal Leslie; and Randal has introduced Frank to her; and Frank thinks her the loveliest woman in the world, and grossly slandered by certain evil tongues. And the brother of Madame di Negra is expected in England at last; and what with his repute for beauty and for wealth, people anticipate a sensation; and Leonard, and Harley, and Helen? Patience--they will all re-appear.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

A SCENE FROM IRISH LIFE.

The moorland was wide, level, and black; black as night, if you could suppose night condensed on the surface of the earth, and that you could tread on solid darkness in the midst of day. The day itself was fast dropping into night, although it was dreary and gloomy at the best; for it was a November day. The moor, for miles around, was treeless and houseless; devoid of vegetation, except heather, which clad with its gloomy frieze coat the shivering landscape. At a distance you could discern, through the misty atmosphere, the outline of mountains apparently as bare and stony as this wilderness, which they bounded. There were no fields, no hedgerows, no marks of the hand of man, except the nakedness itself, which was the work of man in past ages; when, period after period, he had tramped over the scene with fire and sword, and left all that could not fly before him, either ashes to be scattered by the savage winds, or stems of trees, and carcases of men trodden into the swampy earth. As the Roman historian said of other destroyers, "They created solitude and called it peace." That all this was the work of man, and not of Nature, any one spot of this huge and howling wilderness could testify, if you would only turn up its sable surface. In its bosom lay thousands of ancient oaks and pines, black as ebony; which told, by their gigantic bulk, that forests must have once existed on this spot, as rich as the scene was now bleak. Nobler things than trees lay buried there; but were, for the most part, resolved into the substance of the inky earth. The dwellings of men had left few or no traces, for they had been consumed in flames; and the hearts that had loved, and suffered, and perished beneath the hand of violence and insult, were no longer human hearts, but slime. If a man were carried blindfold to that place, and asked when his eyes were unbandaged where he was, he would say--"Ireland!"

He would want no clew to the identity of the place, but the scene before him. There is no heath like an Irish heath. There is no desolation like an Irish desolation. Where Nature herself has spread the expanse of a solitude, it is a cheerful solitude. The air flows over it lovingly; the flowers nod and dance in gladness; the soil breathes up a spirit of wild fragrance, which communicates a buoyant sensation to the heart. You feel that you tread on ground where the peace of God, and not the "peace" of man created in the merciless hurricane of war, has sojourned: where the sun shone on creatures sporting on ground or on tree, as the Divine Goodness of the Universe meant them to sport: where the hunter disturbed alone the enjoyment of the lower animals by his own boisterous joy: where the traveler sung as he went over it, because he felt a spring of inexpressible music in his heart: where the weary wayfarer sat beneath a bush, and blessed God, though his limbs ached with travel, and his goal was far off. In God's deserts dwells gladness; in man's deserts, death. A melancholy smites you as you enter them. There is a darkness from the past that envelops your heart, and the moans and sighs of ten-times perpetrated misery seem still to live in the very winds.

One shallow, and widely-spread stream struggled through the moor; sometimes between masses of gray stone. Sedges and the white-headed cotton-rush whistled on its margin, and on island-like expanses that here and there rose above the surface of its middle course.

I have said that there was no sign of life; but on one of those gray stones stood a heron watching for prey. He had remained straight, rigid, and motionless for hours. Probably his appetite was appeased by his day's success among the trout of that dark red-brown stream, which was colored by the peat from which it oozed. When he did move, he sprung up at once, stretched his broad wings, and silent as the scene around him, made a circuit in the air; rising higher as he went, with slow and solemn flight. He had been startled by a sound. There was life in the desert now. Two horsemen came galloping along a highway not far distant, and the heron, continuing his grave gyrations, surveyed them as he went. Had they been travelers over a plain of India, an Australian waste, or the Pampas of South America, they could not have been grimmer of aspect, or more thoroughly children of the wild. They were Irish from head to foot.

They were mounted on two spare but by no means clumsy horses. The creatures had marks of blood and breed that had been introduced by the English to the country. The could claim, if they knew it, lineage of Arabia. The one was a pure bay, the other and lesser, was black; but both were lean as death, haggard as famine. They were wet with the speed with which they had been hurried along. The soil of the damp moorland, or of the field in which, during the day, they had probably been drawing the peasant's cart, still smeared their bodies, and their manes flew as wildly and untrimmed as the sedge or the cotton-rush on the wastes through which they careered. Their riders, wielding each a heavy stick instead of a riding-whip which they applied ever and anon to the shoulders or flanks of their smoking animals, were mounted on their bare backs, and guided them by halter, instead of bridle. They were a couple of the short frieze-coated, knee-breeches and gray-stocking fellows who are as plentiful on Irish soil as potatoes. From beneath their narrow-brimmed, old, weather-beaten hats, streamed hair as unkemped as their horses' manes. The Celtic physiognomy was distinctly marked--the small and somewhat upturned nose; the black tint of skin; the eye now looking gray, now black; the freckled cheek, and sandy hair. Beard and whiskers covered half the face, and the short square-shouldered bodies were bent forward with eager impatience, as they thumped and kicked along their horses, muttering curses as they went.

The heron, sailing on broad and seemingly slow vans, still kept them in view. Anon, they reached a part of the moorland where traces of human labor were visible. Black piles of peat stood on the solitary ground, ready, after a summers cutting and drying. Presently patches of cultivation presented themselves; plots of ground raised on beds, each a few feet wide, with intervening trenches to carry off the boggy water, where potatoes had grown, and small fields where grew more stalks of ragwort than grass, inclosed by banks cast up and tipped here and there with a briar or a stone. It was the husbandry of misery and indigence. The ground had already been freshly manured by sea-weeds, but the village--where was it? Blotches of burnt ground; scorched heaps of rubbish, and fragments of blackened walls, alone were visible. Garden-plots were trodden down, and their few bushes rent up, or hung with tatters of rags. The two horsemen, as they hurried by with gloomy visages, uttered no more than a single word: "Eviction!"

Further on, the ground heaved itself into a chaotic confusion. Stony heaps swelled up here and there, naked, black, and barren: the huge bones of the earth protruded themselves through her skin. Shattered rocks arose, sprinkled with bushes, and smoke curled up from what looked like mere heaps of rubbish; but which were in reality human habitations. Long dry grass hissed and rustled in the wind on their roofs (which were sunk by-places, as if falling in); and pits of reeking filth seemed placed exactly to prevent access to some of the low doors; while to others, a few stepping-stones made that access only possible. Here the two riders stopped, and hurriedly tying their steeds to an elder-bush, disappeared in one of the cabins.

The heron slowly sailed on to the place of its regular roost. Let us follow it.

Far different was this scene to those the bird had left. Lofty trees darkened the steep slopes of a fine river. Rich meadows lay at the feet of woods and stretched down to the stream. Herds of cattle lay on them, chewing their cuds after the plentiful grazing of the day. The white walls of a noble house peeped, in the dusk of night, through the fertile timber which stood in proud guardianship of the mansion; and broad winding walks gave evidence of a place where nature and art had combined to form a paradise. There were ample pleasure-grounds. Alas! the grounds around the cabins over which the heron had so lately flown, might be truly styled pain-grounds.

Within that home was assembled a happy family. There was the father, a fine-looking man of forty. Proud you would have deemed him, as he sate for a moment abstracted in his cushioned chair; but a moment afterward, as a troop of children came bursting into the room, his manner was instantly changed into one so pleasant, so playful, and so overflowing with enjoyment, that you saw him only as an amiable, glad, domestic man. The mother, a handsome woman, was seated already at the tea-table; and, in another minute, sounds of merry voices and childish laughter were mingled with the jocose tones of the father, and the playful accents of the mother; addressed, now to one, and now to another, of the youthful group.

In due time the merriment was hushed, and the household assembled for evening prayer. A numerous train of servants assumed their accustomed places. The father read. He had paused once or twice, and glanced with a stern and surprised expression toward the group of domestics, for he heard sounds that astonished him from one corner of the room near the door. He went on--"Remember the children of Edom, O Lord, in the day of judgment, how they said, Down with it, down with it, even to the ground. O daughter of Babylon, wasted with misery, yea, happy shall he be who rewardeth thee, as thou hast served us!"

There was a burst of smothered sobs from the same corner, and the master's eye flashed with a strange fire as he again darted a glance toward the offender. The lady looked equally surprised, in the same direction; then turned a meaning look on her husband--a warm flush was succeeded by a paleness in her countenance, and she cast down her eyes. The children wondered, but were still. Once more the father's sonorous voice continued--"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us." Again the stifled sound was repeated. The brow of the master darkened again--the mother looked agitated; the children's wonder increased; the master closed the book, and the servants, with a constrained silence, retired from the room.

"What _can_ be the matter with old Dennis?" exclaimed the lady, the moment that the door had closed on the household.--"O! what is amiss with poor old Dennis!" exclaimed the children.

"Some stupid folly or other," said the father, morosely. "Come! away to bed, children. You can learn Dennis's troubles another time." The children would have lingered, but again the words, "Away with you!" in a tone which never needed repetition, were decisive: they kissed their parents and withdrew. In a few seconds the father rang the bell. "Send Dennis Croggan here."

The old man appeared. He was a little thin man, of not less than seventy years of age, with white hair and a dark spare countenance. He was one of those many nondescript servants in a large Irish house, whose duties are curiously miscellaneous. He had, however, shown sufficient zeal and fidelity through a long life, to secure a warm nook in the servants' hall for the remainder of his days.

Dennis entered with an humble and timid air, as conscious that he had deeply offended; and had to dread at least a severe rebuke. He bowed profoundly to both the master and mistress.

"What is the meaning of your interruptions during the prayers, Dennis?" demanded the master, abruptly. "Has any thing happened to you?"

"No, sir."

"Anything amiss in your son's family?"

"No, your honor."

The interrogator paused; a storm of passion seemed slowly gathering within him. Presently he asked, in a loud tone, "What does this mean? Was there no place to vent your nonsense in, but in this room, and at prayers?"

Dennis was silent. He cast an imploring look at the master, then at the mistress.

"What is the matter, good Dennis?" asked the lady, in a kind tone. "Compose yourself, and tell us. Something strange must have happened to you."

Dennis trembled violently; but he advanced a couple of paces, seized the back of a chair as if to support him, and, after a vain gasp or two, declared, as intelligibly as fear would permit, that the prayer had overcome him.

"Nonsense, man!" exclaimed the master, with fury in the same face, which was so lately beaming with joy on the children. "Nonsense! Speak out without more ado, or you shall rue it."

Dennis looked to the mistress as if he would have implored her intercession; but as she gave no sign of it, he was compelled to speak; but in a brogue that would have been unintelligible to English ears. We therefore translate it:

"I could not help thinking of the poor people at Rathbeg, when the soldiers and police cried, 'Down with them! down with them, even to the ground!' and then the poor bit cabins came down all in fire and smoke, amid the howls and cries of the poor creatures. Oh! it was a fearful sight, your honor--it was, indeed--to see the poor women hugging their babies, and the houses where they were born burning in the wind. It was dreadful to see the old bedridden man lie on the wet ground among the few bits of furniture, and groan to his gracious God above. Oh, your honor! you never saw such a sight, or--you--sure a--it would never have been done!"

Dennis seemed to let the last words out, as if they were jerked from him by a sudden shock.

The master, whose face had changed during this speech to a livid hue of passion, his eyes blazing with rage, was in the act of rushing on old Dennis, when he was held back by his wife, who exclaimed--"Oswald! be calm; let us hear what Dennis has to say. Go on, Dennis--go on!"

The master stood still, breathing hard to overcome his rage. Old Dennis, as if seeing only his own thoughts, went on--"O, bless your honor! if you had seen that poor frantic woman when the back of the cabin fell, and buried her infant, where she thought she had laid it safe for a moment, while she flew to part her husband and a soldier, who had struck the other children with the flat of his sword, and bade them to troop off! Oh, your honor, but it was a killing sight! It was that came over me in the prayer, and I feared that we might be praying perdition on us all, when we prayed about our trespasses. If the poor creatures of Rathbeg should meet us, your honor, at Heaven's gate (I was thinking) and say--'These are the heathens that would not let us have a poor hearthstone in poor ould Ireland.' And that was all, your honor, that made me misbehave so; I was just thinking of that, and I could not help it."

"Begone! you old fool!" exclaimed the master; and Dennis disappeared, with a bow, and an alertness that would have done credit to his earlier years.

There was a moment's silence after his exit. The lady turned to her husband, and clasping his arm with her hands, and looking into his darkened countenance with a look of tenderest anxiety, said:

"Dearest Oswald, let me, as I have so often done, once more entreat that these dreadful evictions may cease. Surely there must be some way to avert them, and to set your property right, without such violent measures."

The stern, proud man said, "Then, why, in the name of Heaven, do you not reveal some other remedy? Why do you not enlighten all Ireland? Why don't you instruct Government? The unhappy wretches who have been swept away by force are no people, no tenants of mine. They squatted themselves down, as a swarm of locusts fix themselves while a green blade is left. They obstruct all improvement; they will not till the ground themselves; nor will they quit it to allow me to provide more industrious and provident husbandmen to cultivate it. Land that teems with fertility, and is shut out from bearing and bringing forth food for man, is accursed. Those who have been evicted, not only rob me; but their more industrious fellows."

"They will murder us!" said the wife, "some day for these things. They will--"

Her words were cut short suddenly by her husband starting, and standing in a listening attitude. "Wait a moment," he said, with a peculiar calmness, as if he had just got a fresh thought; and his lady, who did not comprehend what was the cause, but hoped that some better influence was touching him, unloosed her hands from his arm. "Wait just a moment," he repeated, and stepped from the room, opened the front door, and without his hat, went out.

"He is intending to cool down his anger," thought his wife: "he feels a longing for the freshness of the air." But she had not caught the sound which had startled his quicker, because more excited ear: she had been too much engrossed by her own intercession with him: it was a peculiar whine from the mastiff, which was chained near the lodge-gate, that had arrested his attention. He stepped out. The black clouds which overhung the moor had broken, and the moon's light struggled between them.

The tall and haughty man stood erect in the breeze and listened. Another moment--there was a shot, and he fell headlong upon the broad steps on which he stood. His wife sprang with a piercing shriek from the door, and fell on his corpse. A crowd of servants gathered about them, making wild lamentations, and breathing vows of vengeance. The murdered master and the wife were borne into the house.

The heron soared from its lofty perch, and wheeled with terrified wings through the night air. The servants armed themselves; and, rushing furiously from the house, traversed the surrounding masses of trees. Fierce dogs were let loose, and dashed frantically through the thickets. All was, however, too late. The soaring heron saw gray figures, with blackened faces, stealing away--often on their hands and knees--down the hollows of the moorlands toward the village; where the two Irish horsemen had, in the first dusk of that evening, tied their lean steeds to the old elder bush.

Near the mansion no lurking assassin was to be found. Meanwhile, two servants, pistol in hand, on a couple of their master's horses, scoured hill, and dale. The heron, sailing solemnly on the wind above, saw them halt in a little town. They thundered with the butt-ends of their pistols on a door in the principal street. Over it there was a coffin-shaped board, displaying a painted crown, and the big-lettered words, "POLICE STATION." The mounted servants shouted with might and main. A night-capped head issued from a chamber casement with--"What is the matter?"

"Out with you, Police! out with all your strength, and lose not a moment; Mr. FitzGibbon, of Sporeen, is shot at his own door."

The casement was hastily clapped to, and the two horsemen galloped forward up the long, broad street; now flooded with the moon's light. Heads full of terror were thrust from upper windows to inquire the cause of that rapid galloping; but ever too late. The two men held their course up a steep hill outside of the town, where stood a vast building overlooking the whole place. It was the barracks. Here the alarm was also given.

In less than an hour, a mounted troop of police in olive-green costume, with pistols at holster, sword by side, and carbine on the arm, were trotting briskly out of town, accompanied by the two messengers; whom they plied with eager questions. These answered, and sundry imprecations vented, the whole party increased their speed, and went on, mile after mile, by hedgerow and open moorland, talking as they went.

Before they reached the house of Sporeen, and near the village where the two Irish horsemen had stopped the evening before, they halted, and formed themselves into more orderly array. A narrow gully was before them on the road, hemmed in on each side by rocky steeps, here and there overhung with bushes. The commandant bade them be on their guard, for there might be danger there. He was right; for the moment they began to trot through the pass, the flash and rattle of fire-arms from the thickets above saluted them, followed by a wild yell. In a second, several of their number lay dead or dying in the road. The fire was returned promptly by the police; but it was at random, for although another discharge, and another howl, announced that the enemy were still there, no one could be seen. The head of the police commanded his troop to make a dash through the pass; for there was no scaling the heights from this side; the assailants having warily posted themselves there, because at the foot of an eminence were stretched on either hand impassable bogs. The troop dashed forward, firing their pistols as they went; but were met by such deadly discharges of fire-arms as threw them into confusion, killed and wounded several of their horses, and made them hastily retreat.

There was nothing for it, but to await the arrival of the cavalry; and it was not long before the clatter of horses' hoofs and the ringing of sabres were heard on the road. On coming up, the troop of cavalry, firing to the right and left on the hill-sides, dashed forward, and, in the same instant, cleared the gully in safety; the police having kept their side of the pass. In fact, not a single shot was returned; the arrival of this strong force having warned the insurgents to decamp. The cavalry in full charge ascended the hills, to their summits. Not a foe was to be seen, except one or two dying men, who were discovered by their groans.

The moon had been for a time quenched in a dense mass of clouds, which now were blown aside by a keen and cutting wind. The heron, soaring over the desert, could now see gray-coated men flying in different directions to the shelter of the neighboring hills. The next day he was startled from his dreamy reveries near the moorland stream, by the shouts and galloping of mingled police and soldiers, as they gave chase to a couple of haggard, bare-headed, and panting peasants.

These were soon captured, and at once recognized as belonging to the evicted inhabitants of the recently deserted village.

Since then years have rolled on. The heron, who had been startled from his quiet haunts by these things, was still dwelling on the lofty tree with his kindred, by the hall of Sporeen. He had reared family after family in that airy lodgment, as spring after spring came round; but no family, after that fatal time, had ever tenanted the mansion. The widow and children had fled from it so soon as Mr. FitzGibbon had been laid in the grave. The nettle and dock flourished over the scorched ruins of the village of Rathbeg; dank moss and wild grass tangled the proud drives and walks of Sporeen. All the woodland rides and pleasure-grounds lay obstructed with briars; and young trees, in time, grew luxuriantly where once the roller in its rounds could not crush a weed; the nimble frolics of the squirrel were now the only merry things where formerly the feet of lovely children had sprung with elastic joy.

The curse of Ireland was on the place. Landlord and tenant, gentleman and peasant, each with the roots and the shoots of many virtues in their hearts, thrown into a false position by the mutual injuries of ages, had wreaked on each other the miseries sown broadcast by their ancestors. Beneath this foul spell men who would, in any other circumstances, have been the happiest and the noblest of mankind, became tyrants; and peasants, who would have glowed with grateful affection toward them, exulted in being their assassins. As the traveler rode past the decaying hall, the gloomy woods, and waste black moorlands of Sporeen, he read the riddle of Ireland's fate, and asked himself when an OEdipus would arise to solve it.

SCOTTISH REVENGE.

A long time ago, when the powerful clan of the Cumyns were lords of half the country round, the chief of that clan slew a neighboring chieftain, with whom he had a feud; for feuds in those days were as easily found as blackberries, and quarrels might be had any day in the year for the _picking_. He that was slain had, at the time of his death, an only child, an infant, of the name of Hugh. The widow treasured deep within her heart the hope of vengeance, which the daily sight of her son, recalling, by his features, the memory of her slaughtered husband, kept ever awake. With the first opening of his intellect, he was instructed in the deed that made him fatherless, and taught to look forward to avenging his parent as a holy obligation cast upon him; and so, with his strength and his stature, grew his hatred of the Cumyns, and his resolution to take the life of him who had slain his father. He spent his days in the woods practicing archery, till at length he became a most expert bowman. None could send a shaft with so strong an arm, or so true an aim, as Hugh Shenigan; and the eagle or the red deer was sure to fall beneath his arrow, when the one was soaring too high in the air, or the other fleeing too swiftly on the hill, for ordinary woodcraft. But it was not the eagle or the deer that kept Hugh in the forest, and upon the mountains, from the dawn of the morning till the setting of the sun. He was watching for other prey, and at length chance brought what he sought within his reach. One day he climbed up the side of Benigloe, and took his station upon a spot that commanded a view of the glen between it and the opposite range of hills. He had ascertained that Cumyn would return to Blair by the glen that evening; and so it happened, that an hour or so before sun-fall he espied the chieftain, with two of his clan, wending onwards toward the base of the hill. A few minutes more, and they would reach a point within the range of his bow. His practiced eye measured the distance, and his heart throbbed with a fierce, dark emotion, as he put the shaft to the thong, and drew it, with a strong arm, to his ear. With a whiz, the arrow sped from the bow, and cleft the air with the speed of light, while a wild shout burst from the lips of the young archer. His anxiety, it would seem, did not suffer him to wait till his foe had come within range of his arrow, for it sank quivering into the earth at the foot of him for whose heart it was aimed. The shout and the shaft alike warned the Cumyns that danger was nigh, and not knowing by what numbers they might be assailed, they plunged into the heather on the hill side, and were quickly lost to the sight. But the young man watched with the keenness of an eagle, and his sense seemed intensified with the terrible desire of vengeance that consumed him. At length, just where the little stream falls from the crown of the hill, the form of a man became visible, standing out from the sky, now bright with the last light of the setting sun. With a strong effort, the young man mastered the emotion of his heart, as the gambler becomes calm, ere he throws the cast upon which he has staked his all. The bow is strained to its utmost, the eye ranges along the shaft from feather to barb, it is shot forth as if winged by the very soul of him who impelled it. One moment of breathless suspense, and in the next the chief of the Cumyns falls headlong into the stream, pierced through the bowels by the deadly weapon.

POSTAL REFORM--CHEAP POSTAGE.

It is now upward of eleven years since the writer of this commenced advocating "postal reform and cheap postage." At first it found but little favor either from the public or the Post-Office Department. Many considered the schemes Utopian, and if carried into effect would break down the post-office: but neither ridicule or threats prevented him from prosecuting his object until Congress was compelled in 1845 to reduce the rates of postage to five and ten cents the half-ounce.

The success attending even this partial reduction equaled the expectations of its friends, and silenced the opposition of its enemies. The friends of cheap postage, in New York and other places, renewed their efforts to obtain a further reduction, and petitioned for a uniform rate of two cents prepaid. But such was either the indifference or hostility of a majority of the members that no definite action was taken on the subject for six years, nor was it until the last session that any reduction was made from the rates adopted in 1845. Notwithstanding this shameful delay in complying with the wishes of the people, the new law adopted _four_ rates instead of one, leaving the prepayment of postage optional. Besides this, the new law imposes on newspapers and printed matter a most unreasonable, burdensome, and complicated tax, which has created universal dissatisfaction.

The obnoxious features of the present law imperiously demand the immediate attention of Congress. Neither the rates of postage on letters, nor the tax on newspapers and printed matter, meet the wishes of the friends of cheap postage. They have uniformly insisted upon simplicity, uniformity, and cheapness. But the present law possesses none of these requisites. On letters the rates in the United States are three and five, six and ten cents, according to distance. Ocean postage is enormous and too burdensome to be borne any longer. The rates of postage on newspapers are so complicated that few postmasters can tell what they are, and those on transient newspapers and printed matter generally, are so enormous as to amount to a prohibition. A revision of this law is rendered indispensable. Other reforms are required, some of which I shall here notice.

1. Letter postage should be reduced to a uniform rate of _two cents prepaid_. This rate has been successfully adopted in Great Britain. It has increased the letters and the income of the post-office. It is the revenue point, sufficiently low, to encourage the people to write, and to send all their letters through the post-office; and yet high enough to afford ample revenue to pay the expenses of the Department. If this rate is adopted, it will defy all competition, for none will attempt to carry letters cheaper than the post-office.

2. _Ocean postage_ is enormous and burdensome, especially upon that class of persons which is least able to bear it. It has been computed by those who are competent to judge, that about three-quarters of the ship letters are written by emigrants, and are letters of friendship and affection. The greater portion of them are from persons in poor circumstances, and to tax them with _twenty-four_ or _twenty-nine_ cents for a single letter is cruel. To send a letter and receive an answer, will cost a servant girl half a week's wages, and a poor man in the country will have to work a day to earn the value of the postage of a letter to and from his friends in Europe. Were the postage reduced to a low rate, _ten_ letters would be written where one now is, and the revenue, in a short period, would be equal if not greater than under the present high rates. During the last twelve months, the amount received for transatlantic postages was not less than _a million of dollars_, and three-fourths of this sum has been paid by the laboring classes on letters relating to their domestic relations and friendship.

3. Next to the reduction of inland and ocean postage is the _free delivery_ of mail letters in all the large towns and cities. An improvement has been attempted by the Postmaster-general in respect of letters to be sent by the mails. They are now conveyed to the post-office free of any charge; and the next step necessary is to cause them to be delivered without any addition to the postage. A letter is carried by the mails _three thousand miles_ for three cents, but if it is sent three hundred yards from the post-office, it is charged _two cents_! This is not only an unreasonable tax, but is attended with much inconvenience both to the carrier and receiver of the letter, in the trouble of making the change, and the delay attending the delivery of letters. If the prepayment of the postage covered the whole expense, a carrier could deliver ten letters where he now delivers _one_, and fewer persons would be able to deliver them. Two cents cover the whole expense of postage and delivery of letters in London, and there is no reason why they can not be delivered in New York and other cities as cheaply as they are in the capital of Great Britain. The expense to the post-office would be comparatively small, as the income from city letters would be nearly equal to what would be paid if an efficient city delivery was adopted. If the free delivery should be adopted, it would be a great relief to the people, and this like every other facility afforded by the post-office, would tend to increase the number of letters sent by the mails.

4. The _franking privilege_ should be wholly abolished. This has been so much abused, that the people have loudly complained of it, and almost every Postmaster-general for the last ten years has recommended its abolition. Instead, however, of diminishing or repealing it, it has been increased, so that two sets of members can now exercise it, and the cart-loads of franked matter sent from Washington show that it is a dead weight upon the Department. At the last session, one member had twenty-eight large canvas bags of franked matter, weighing not less than _five thousand pounds_! To say nothing of the vast expense of printing and binding millions of documents and speeches which are never read, the burden, and labor, and cost to the post-office are incalculable. When newspapers were few in number, there might have been a necessity to send out speeches and documents, but as newspapers are published in all parts of the Union, every important report and speech is published and read long before it can be printed and sent from Washington. Let the members of Congress be furnished with a sufficient number of stamps to cover their postage, and these be paid for as the other expenses of Congress. The frank was wholly abolished in Great Britain, when the cheap system was adopted, so that Queen Victoria herself can not now frank a letter!

5. But the grievance, which is now felt and most complained of by the people, is the complicated and burdensome tax on newspapers and other printed matter. It has heretofore been the good policy of Congress to favor the circulation of newspapers throughout the country, and accordingly one and a half cents was the highest rate charged to regular subscribers for any distance, and two cents, prepaid, for transient papers. These rates were plain and easy to be understood, and few were disposed to complain of them, although they were much higher than they should be. The new bill has some _sixty_ or _seventy_ different rates, and so complicated, depending upon _weight_ and _distance_, that not one postmaster in twenty can tell what postage should be charged upon newspapers. Again the rates are enormous. For example, a newspaper in California, weighing one ounce or under, is charged _five cents_ prepaid, and if not prepaid _ten cents_, and the same for every additional ounce; hence the Courier and Enquirer or Journal of Commerce, weighing two and one quarter ounces, is charged to San Francisco _fifteen cents_ prepaid, and if not prepaid _thirty cents_! What is the effect of this law? It prohibits the circulation of newspapers through the post-office entirely, and all that are now sent go by private expresses. If I understand the subject correctly, it was the object of those who proposed the "substitute" to the Bill which passed the House of Representatives, to _exclude_ from the mails _newspapers_ and _printed_ matter. _Is this right?_

6. Another reform which should be made by Congress, is the payment of postage entirely by _stamps_. If no money was received at the post-office except for stamps, and the postage on every thing passing through the office prepaid, the saving of labor would be immense, both to the general post-office and local offices. But this is not the only advantage. The amount lost, by the destruction of post bills, is incalculable. Hundreds of thousands of dollars are unaccounted for and lost every year by the Department, by the present loose, inefficient system of accounting for the postages received on letters and newspapers. While this system continues there is not, and can not be any _check_ on the postmasters. Let the payment of postage be made by stamps, and it would be an effectual check upon every post-office, and the Department would receive the money for every stamp sold, whether it was used by the purchaser or not. This is a subject worthy of the serious consideration of Congress and the Post-Office Department.

7. There is one more improvement which I would recommend before closing this already long article, and that is the establishment of a _money-order office_. This would not only be a great convenience to the people, especially to the poorer class, but it would also prove a source of revenue to the post-office. During the last year, there were sent through the money-order office in Great Britain upward of _forty millions_ of dollars! When it is recollected that each order is limited to _twenty-five dollars_, the number of letters carrying these orders must be very large, adding to the receipts of the post-office. The same results would follow a similar establishment in the United States. There being no guarantee for the safe delivery of money, transmitted by the mails, such letters are now sent by private expresses, for which they receive a remunerating compensation.

I have briefly suggested some of the reforms which I deem necessary for the improvement of the post-office. It was said last winter by some of our Senators in Congress, in their places, that "OURS IS THE WORST MANAGED POST-OFFICE IN THE WORLD." I can not agree with them in this assertion. But I regret to say that it is not the _best_ managed, nor so good as it should and _must_ be. The great drawback to its improvement, and, I may add, the curse that rests upon it, is its being made a _political_ machine. It was a great and fatal mistake to make the Postmaster-general a member of the Cabinet. The great personal worth of Mr. McLean induced President Monroe to take him into his Cabinet, and the practice has been continued ever since. The consequence is, that the Postmaster-general is changed under every new administration. In less than two years we had _three_, and two assistants. How can it be expected that men, whatever may be their talents, can make themselves acquainted with the business of the office in the short space of three or four years? Before they are warm in their seats they are removed. Besides, after a new administration comes in, it takes six or twelve months to turn out political opponents and appoint their friends. If, instead of this, when intelligent and efficient men are in office (no matter what their political affinities may be), they were continued, it would be an inducement to make improvements, and an encouragement to fidelity; but now there is no security to any man that he will be continued one hour, nor any encouragement to excel in the faithful discharge of his duty. These things ought not so to be.

There is another practice which greatly retards the improvement of our post-office, and that is the manner in which the post-office committees are appointed in Congress. At every session of Congress new committees are appointed by the Senate and House, a majority of which is composed of the dominant political party, without much regard to their qualifications. For a number of years there has been scarcely a single member selected from any of our large cities, where the principal portion of the revenue is collected, consequently, they are persons who have little or no knowledge of post-office business, or the wants of the people. Their principal business is to obtain new post-routes, but any improvement of postal concerns is little thought of. Hence the Post-Office Department may be considered a vast political machine, wielded for the benefit of the party in power; and there is not an appointment made, from the Postmaster-general down to the postmaster of the smallest office, without a special regard to the politics of the person appointed.

The only correction of this evil, under the present system, is to give the appointment of all the postmasters to the people. They are the best qualified to judge of the character and qualifications of the person who will serve them in the most acceptable manner; and the postmasters, knowing that they are dependent upon the people for their offices, will be more obliging and attentive in the discharge of their duties. This will diminish the patronage of the President and the Postmaster-general, which I have not a doubt they would gladly part with, as there is nothing more troublesome and perplexing to a conscientious man, than the exercise of this power.

In the old world, where monarchy exists, the press is called the "fourth estate;" but with us, where "_vox populi_, _vox Dei_," the press and the ballot-box may be considered the sovereign. The press utters the wish of the people, and the ballot-box confirms that wish. Hence, if the press speaks out clearly and strongly in favor of postal reform, the people will sanction it by their votes in selecting men to represent their wishes in the councils of the nation. Our post-office, instead of being denounced the "worst," should be made the _best_ managed in the world. We have no old prejudices or established customs to abolish, no pensioners or sinecures to support, no jealousy on the part of the government against the diffusion of knowledge through the mails; but we have an intelligent, active, liberal gentleman at the head of the Post-Office Department, who desires to meet the wants and wishes of the people. Therefore we have reason to hope that in due time our post-office will be established on such a footing as to secure the patronage and support of the people, defying all competition, and superior to any similar establishment in the world.

B.B.

SYRIAN SUPERSTITIONS.

There are some superstitious observances, which are strictly adhered to by the peasants employed in rearing the silk-worm. Thus, when the eggs are first hatched, the peasant's wife rises up very early in the morning, and creeping stealthily to the master's house, flings a piece of wet clay against the door. If the clay adheres, it is a sign that there will be a good mousoum or silk harvest: if it do not stick, then the contrary may be expected. During the whole time the worms are being reared, no one but the peasants themselves are permitted to enter the khook or hut; and, when the worms give notice that they are about to mount and form their cocoons, then the door is locked, and the key handed to the proprietor of the plantation. After a sufficient time has elapsed, and the cocoons are supposed to be well and strongly formed, the proprietor, followed by the peasants, marches in a kind of procession up to the huts, and, first dispensing a few presents among them, and hoping for good, to which they all reply, "Inshalla! Inshalla!--please God! please God," the key is turned, the doors thrown wide open, and the cocoons are detached from the battours of cane mats, and prepared for reeling the next day.

Monthly Record of Current Events.

UNITED STATES

The past month has not been one of special interest, either at home or abroad. None of the great legislative bodies of the country have been in session, and political action has been confined to one or two of the Southern States. The annual Agricultural Fair of the State of New York was held at Rochester on the three days following the 17th of September, and was attended by a larger number of persons, and with greater interest than usual. Hon. STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS, United States Senator from Illinois, delivered the address, which was a clear and interesting sketch of the progress and condition of agriculture in the United States. The number of persons in attendance at the Fair is estimated to have exceeded one hundred and fifty thousand. The State Agricultural Society of New York is gaining strength every year. A very interesting Railroad Jubilee was held in Boston on the 17th of September, to celebrate the completion of railroad communication between Boston and Ogdensburg, thus connecting the New England capital with the Western lakes by two distinct routes. President FILLMORE and several members of his Cabinet were present, as were also Lord ELGIN and several other distinguished gentlemen from Canada. An immense multitude of people was in attendance to celebrate this triumph of business, energy, and enterprise. Brief public congratulations were exchanged between the municipal officers of Boston and their guests, and a grand aquatic excursion down the bay took place on the 18th. The celebration lasted three days, and was closed by a grand civic feast under a pavilion on the Common.

No event of the past month has excited more general interest, than the return of the two vessels sent to the Arctic Ocean a year and a half ago, by Mr. HENRY GRINNELL of New York, to aid in the search for Sir JOHN FRANKLIN. The _Advance_ reached New York on the 1st of October; the _Rescue_ was a few days later. Although unsuccessful in the main object of their search, the gallant officers and men by whom these vessels were manned, have enjoyed their cruise, and returned without the loss of a single life and in excellent health. They entered Wellington Sound on the 26th of August, 1850, and were at once joined by Capt PENNY, who commanded the vessel sent out by Lady FRANKLIN. On the 27th, three graves were discovered, known by inscriptions upon them to be those of three of Sir JOHN FRANKLIN'S crew. The presence of Sir JOHN at that spot was thus established at as late a date as in April, 1846. On the 8th of September, the vessels forced their way through the ice, and on the 10th, reached Griffith's Island, which proved to be the ultimate limit of their western progress. On the 13th, they started to return, but were frozen in near the mouth of Wellington Channel, and for nine months they continued thus, unable to move, threatened with destruction by the crushing of the ice around them, and borne along by the southeast drift until, on the 10th of June, they emerged into open sea, and found themselves in latitude 65 deg. 30', and one thousand and sixty miles from the spot at which they became fixed in the ice. The history of Arctic navigation records no drift at all to be compared with this, either for extent or duration. The intervening season was full of peril. The ice crushing the sides of the vessels, forced them several feet out of water. The thermometer fell to 40 degrees below zero. The _Rescue_ was abandoned, for the sake of saving fuel, and on two occasions, the crews had left their vessels, expecting to see them crushed to atoms between the gigantic masses of ice that threatened them on either side, and with their knapsacks on their backs had prepared to strike off across the ice for land, which was nearly a hundred miles off. The scurvy made its appearance, and was very severe in its ravages, especially among the officers.

After refitting his vessels on the coast of Greenland, Captain DE HAVEN, who had the command of the expedition, started again for the North. After passing Baffin's Bay on the 8th of August, he became again hopelessly entangled in the vast masses of ice that were floating around, and was compelled to start for the United States. The expedition is likely to contribute essentially to our knowledge of the natural history of that remote region of the earth, as Dr. KANE, an intelligent naturalist, who went in the vessels as surgeon, has very complete memoranda of every thing of interest especially in this department. Although unable to find any distinct traces of him later than 1846, the officers of the expedition think it far from impossible that Sir JOHN FRANKLIN may be still alive, hemmed in by ice at a point which they were unable to reach. They agree in the opinion that a steamer of some kind should accompany any other expedition that may be sent.

A State election took place in GEORGIA, on the 7th of October, which has a general interest on account of the issues which it involved. The old political distinctions were entirely superseded, both candidates for Governor having belonged to the Democratic party--one of them, however, Hon. HOWELL COBB, late Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives, being in favor of abiding by the Compromise measures of 1850, and his opponent Mr. MCDONALD being opposed to them, and in favor of secession from the Union. Up to the time of closing this record, full returns have not been received; but it is quite certain that Mr. COBB, the Union candidate, has been elected by a very large majority. Full returns of the Congressional canvass, which was held at the same time, have not yet reached us; but it is believed that six Union, and two State Rights members have been elected.

The Legislature of VERMONT met at Montpelier on the 9th of October. The House was organized by the election of Mr. Powers, speaker, and Mr. C. T. Davey, clerk. The message of Gov. Williams treats of national topics at considerable length. He insists that the laws must be obeyed, and vindicates the _habeas corpus_ act passed by Vermont at the last session of its Legislature from many of the censures that have been cast upon it.

The month has been distinguished by an unusual number of steamboat explosions, railroad casualties, crimes and accidents of various sorts. The steamer _Brilliant_, on her way up the Mississippi from New Orleans, on the 28th of September, while near Bayou Sara, burst her boiler, killing fifteen or twenty persons, wounding as many more, and making a complete wreck of the vessel. A brig on Lake Erie, having left Buffalo for Chicago, sprung a leak on the 30th of September, and sunk within an hour. About twenty persons were drowned, only one of those on board escaping. All but he got into the longboat, which capsized; he fastened himself to the foremast of the brig, which left him, as the vessel touched bottom, about four feet out of water. He remained there two days when he was rescued by a passing steamer.

A very severe storm swept over the northeast coast of British America on the 5th of October, doing immense injury to the fishing vessels, nearly a hundred of them being driven ashore. About three hundred persons are supposed to have perished in the wrecks, and great numbers of dead bodies had been drifted ashore.

The steamer _James Jackson_, while near Shawneetown, in Illinois, on the 21st of September, burst her boiler, killing and wounding thirty-five persons, and tearing the boat to pieces. The scene on board at the time of the explosion is described as having been heart-rending.

A duel was fought at Vienna, S.C. on the 27th of September, in which Mr. Smyth, one of the editors of the Augusta Constitutionalist, was wounded by a ball through the thigh from the pistol of his antagonist, Dr. Thomas of Augusta. The meeting grew out of a newspaper controversy, Smyth taking offense at an article in the Chronicle of which Thomas avowed himself the author.--Another duel, with a still more serious result took place in Brownsville, Texas, on the 8th. The parties were Mr. W.H. Harrison and Mr. W.G. Clarke, who met in the street with five-barreled pistols. Clarke fell at the second fire, receiving his antagonist's ball near the heart.--Mr. W. Laughlin, an alderman in the city of New Orleans, and a very respectable and influential citizen, was killed by William Silk, another alderman, on the 29th of September: the affray grew out of political differences.

The great Railroad Conspiracy trials at Detroit terminated on the 25th of September, by a verdict of guilty against twelve of the prisoners and acquitting the rest. Two of them were sentenced to the State Prison for ten years, six for eight years, and four for five years.

Father MATHEW has returned from his visit to the Western States, and has been spending a few weeks in New York. Some of the most influential gentlemen of New York city have appealed to the public for contributions to form a fund of twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars for his aid: it is seconded by a very strong letter from Mr. CLAY. Father Mathew is soon to leave the United States for Ireland.

A number of the literary gentlemen of New York have taken steps to render some fitting tribute to the memory of the late JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. A preliminary meeting was held at the City Hall, at which WASHINGTON IRVING presided, and a committee was appointed to consider what measures will be most appropriate. The delivery of a eulogium and the erection of a statue are suggested as likely to be fixed upon. At a meeting of the New York Historical Society, held on the 7th of October, resolutions upon the subject were adopted.

The Episcopal Convention of the New York diocese was held on the 24th of September, and the Rev. Dr. CREIGHTON, of Tarrytown, was elected, after a protracted canvass, Provisional Bishop. He is a native of New York, graduated at Columbia College in 1812, and has officiated at Grace Church and St Mark's Church, in New York.

From CALIFORNIA our intelligence is to the 6th of September. San Francisco and Sacramento have been the scenes of great excitement. The self-appointed Vigilance Committee, which was organized to supervise, and, if it should be deemed necessary, to supersede the criminal courts, has given terrible proofs of its energy. Two men named Whittaker and McKenzie were in prison at San Francisco awaiting their trial. Fearing that justice might not be done them, the Vigilance Committee broke in the prison doors, took the men out during divine service on Sunday, and hung them both in front of the building. An immense crowd of people was present, approving and encouraging the proceedings. The regular authorities made very slight resistance to the mob. At Sacramento three men had been convicted of highway robbery and sentenced to be hung. One of them, named Robinson, was respited by the Governor, for a month. The day for executing the sentence of the law upon the other two arrived. A large concourse of people was present. The sheriff ordered the two men, Gibson and Thompson, to the place of execution, and directed Robinson to be taken to a prison-ship in which he could be secured. The crowd, however, refused to allow this, but retained him in custody. The two men were then executed by the sheriff, who immediately left the ground. Robinson was then brought forward and, after proper religious exercises, was hung. These occurrences created a good deal of excitement in California at the time, but it soon subsided. It seems to have been universally conceded that the men deserved their fate, and that only justice had been attained, although by irregular means.

The news from the mines continues to be encouraging. The companies were all doing well, and extensive operations were in progress to work the gold-bearing quartz. The steamer _Lafayette_ was burned on the 9th, at Chagres. Marysville, in California, was visited on the night of August 30th, by a very destructive fire. The steamer _Fawn_ burst her boiler near Sacramento on the 28th of August; five or six persons were killed.

From NEW MEXICO we have news to the end of September. Colonel Sumner's expedition against the Navajo Indians had reached Cyrality, in the very heart of the Indian country, and intended to erect a fort there. The Indians were swarming on his rear, threatening hostilities. News had reached Santa Fe that five of Colonel Sumner's men had perished for want of water, before reaching Laguna. The troops were scattered along the road for forty miles, and horses were daily giving out. Colonel Sumner will establish a post at St. Juan, one in the Navajo country, and one at Don Ana.

Quite an excitement had been raised at Santa Fe by the demand of the Catholic Bishop for the church edifice commonly known as the Military Church. Under the Mexican Government it was used exclusively as the chapel of the army. Since the conquest it had been used by the United States army as an ordnance house. After the departure of the troops, Chief Justice Baker obtained from Col. Brooks permission to occupy the house as a court room. The Catholic clergy considered this as a desecration of the house, and consequently objected to its being thus appropriated. The commotion was quelled by the Governor's surrendering the key to the Bishop, formally putting the possession of the building into the hands of the Church.--Major Weightman is certain to be elected delegate to Congress.--Much misunderstanding exists between the Judges in construing the laws in regard to holding the courts, and some fear a good deal of delay in administering justice in consequence, as the lawyers are refusing to bring suits until there shall be unanimity among the Judges.--The difficulty between Mr. Bartlett and Colonel Graham, of the Boundary Commission, is still unsettled. The former was progressing with the survey.

Rain had fallen to some extent throughout New Mexico, and vegetation was consequently beginning to revive.

MEXICO.

Late advices from the City of Mexico state that the Cabinet resigned in a body on the 2d of September, and much disaffection prevailed throughout the country, which was in the most deplorable and abject condition.

The Convention of the Governors of the different States, called for the purpose of devising some means for the relief of the difficulties under which the people are now laboring, had met, and, without taking any decisive action on the subject, adjourned, causing great dissatisfaction. Don Fernando Ramnez has accepted the appointment of Minister of Foreign Affairs, and is charged with the formation of a new Cabinet. The Tehuantepec question engages public attention to a very great degree. The press represent that if the Americans are allowed to construct a railroad across the isthmus, the adjoining country will be colonized, revolutionized, and annexed to the United States, and that another large and valuable department will thus be lost to Mexico. It is stated that the Government has sent 3000 men to defend the isthmus against the Americans, but this we are inclined to doubt.

A revolution has broken out in Northern Mexico which, thus far, has proved entirely successful. It commenced at Camargo, where the Patriots attacked the Mexicans. The Patriots came off victorious, having taken the town by storm, with a loss on the side of the Mexicans of 60. The Government troops were intrenched in a church, with artillery. The people of the town had held a meeting, at which it was resolved to accept the pronunciamiento issued by the Revolutionists. The Mexican troops stationed there were allowed to march out of the town with the honors of war. The Revolutionists were determined to defend the place. The Revolutionists are commanded by Carabajal, who has also with him two companies of Texans. At the last accounts they were marching on Matamoras and Reynosa. Gen. Avalos, who is at Matamoras, has only 200 troops. He had made a requisition on the city for 2000, but the city refused to raise a single man. The plan of the Revolutionists was a pronunciamiento which was widely circulated. The pronunciamiento pronounces "death to tyrants." The reasons given for the revolt are: 1st. The utter failure of the Mexican Government to protect the northern Mexican States from Indian depredations. 2d. The unjust, unequal, prohibitory system of duties, which operates most destructively on the interests of the people of the frontier. 3d. The despotic power exerted by the Federal Government over the rights and representation of several States. Beside Camargo, Mier, Tampico, and several other towns were in the hands of the insurgents. A report having reached Matamoras that the invaders were preparing to march upon them, a large number of the inhabitants, including all the woman and children, fled, leaving only two hundred and fifty men in the town.

CENTRAL AMERICA.

This country continues to be in a very disturbed condition. The revolution started by Munoz is still in progress, the leader being, at the latest dates, about to march upon Granada with the intention of taking that city by force if it would not yield. The government, however, had impressed into its service all the seamen in port, and many of those in the service of the canal company.

A military disturbance had occurred at San Juan. A company of native soldiers was sent by the local authorities with orders to take as their prisoner a certain American, of the name of M'Lean, suspected of being a political spy. The soldiers surrounded the shanty where M'Lean and a dozen other Americans on their return from California, had halted, and fired into it, killing a negro and severely wounding a white man. The Americans returned the fire, killing one man and dispersing the whole company. Next day the affair was compromised by an agreement that M'Lean should leave the country, which he did.

An insurrection has broken out in the States of San Salvador and Guatemala. General Carrera with 1500 men had attacked the enemy in San Salvador and defeated them, but he did not follow up his advantage.

Mr. Chatfield, the English consul in Nicaragua, has become involved in another difficulty with the authorities. His _exequatur_ has been revoked, on account of his refusal to recognize the Central Government.

SOUTH AMERICA.

We have news from Buenos Ayres to the 18th of August. The war raging in that country is becoming more and more important, and a brief sketch of its origin and character may be useful in aiding our readers to understand the course of events. The contest is properly between Brazil and Buenos Ayres, and the prize for which the two forces are contending is the province of Uruguay. Until 1821 Uruguay was a province of Buenos Ayres; but Pedro I. of Brazil, by the lavish use of bribes and other agencies, equally potent and equally corrupt, succeeded in revolutionizing the country and attaching it to Brazil. In 1825 Uruguay declared itself free, and in 1828 it was recognized as a free government by the Plata Confederation, in which recognition Brazil was obliged to concur. Upon the abdication of Pedro, which occurred soon after, Brazil was governed by a regency of which Louis Philippe obtained complete control. France, Spain, and Portugal formed a design of re-annexing Uruguay to Brazil, and they found facile allies in this purpose in the Brazilian Court, which sought to extend the boundaries of the Empire to the coasts of the River Plata and the Uruguay, and to occupy the vast and fertile territory which they include. From that time to this, with occasional intermissions, the war has been going on. Rosas, dictator of Buenos Ayres, struggles with the strength of desperation for the recovery of Uruguay, and he is aided by Oribe, the President of Uruguay, who resists to the utmost the designs of Brazil, and prefers annexation to Buenos Ayres. Against them are the Brazilian troops, aided by Urquiza, formerly a general under Rosas, but subsequently a traitor to him and his country.

On the 20th of July Urquiza and Garzon crossed the Uruguay with a large force, which was constantly increased by desertions from the army of Oribe: they were to be joined by a Brazilian army of 12,000 men, and the war was to be carried into the heart of Buenos Ayres. On the 26th, Oribe issued a proclamation against Urquiza, and on the 30th marched with a large force to meet him. At our latest advices the troops on both sides were preparing for a grand battle, which must be, to a considerable extent, decisive of the question at issue. It is very difficult to acquire accurate and reliable information from the papers which reach us, as they are without exception partisan prints, and far more solicitous to magnify the deeds and strength of their respective parties, than to tell the truth. By the time our next Number is issued we shall probably receive decisive intelligence.

From Valparaiso our dates are to the 1st of September. Of the loan of three hundred thousand dollars asked for by the Chilian government, only seventy thousand had been raised. Two or three shocks of an earthquake had been felt at Conception, but very little injury was sustained. The coinage at the National Mint during the first half of this year, up to July 10th, had amounted to two million dollars and upward, in 127,101 gold doubloons. The Custom House receipts for the year ending 30th June, 1851, exceed those of the previous year $118,389.70. Reciprocity has been established with Austria, Belgium, Brazil, Bremen, Sardinia, Denmark, United States, France, Great Britain, Hamburg, Oldenburg, Prussia, and the Sandwich Islands. It is reported that Peru has entered into a close alliance with Brazil against Rosas. Reciprocity has been established in Chilian ports for Swedish and Norwegian vessels. The rails are laid on the Copiaco Railroad, a distance of 26 miles. On the 20th of July, the first locomotive engine ran through from Caldera to the Valley, and has since been transporting timber and iron for the extension of the track.

GREAT BRITAIN.

We have intelligence from England to the 30th of September, but there is very little worthy a place in our Record. The Queen and Court were still in Scotland, at Balmoral, and of course the public eye was turned thither for all news of interest. Parliament was not in session, but several of the members had met their constituents at county gatherings. Lord PALMERSTON delivered an elaborate speech at Tiverton, on the 24th, which gave material for a good deal of comment. It was a general review of the condition of the kingdom, with a vindicatory sketch of the policy pursued by the government. He dwelt eloquently on the admirable manner in which the great Exhibition had been conducted, and the excellent effect it would have upon the various nations whose representatives it had brought together. The Catholic question, the corn-laws, and the slave-trade were treated briefly and cogently. The speech was very able, and very well received. Sir EDWARD BULWER LYTTON, after holding himself aloof from politics for several years, has again come forward and avowed his willingness to represent the County of Hertford in Parliament. He professes a firm belief in protection principles, and expresses the belief that the present free-trade system is ruining the country. Mr. DISRAELI addressed the citizens of Buckinghamshire on the 17th, the occasion being an agricultural dinner. He represented the effect of free-trade upon the leading interests of England as having been exceedingly disastrous, but avowed his conviction that the protective system could not be restored, and urged the importance of reforms in the financial administration of the country. He referred frequently to the history of his own course in Parliament, and indicated a suspicion that the new reform bill of the Ministry would prove to aim rather at curtailing the influence of the agricultural class, than to effect any desirable change. Mr. HUME met an assembly of his constituents on the 13th, at Montrose, and addressed them on the necessity of a more economical administration of public affairs, if England desired to compete with the United States. The people ought to insist, he said, upon such a new reform bill as should give every householder a vote in the national representation. This would increase the number of voters from nine hundred thousand to between three and four millions.

The vessels sent out by the English government in search of Sir JOHN FRANKLIN, have returned, without any further discoveries than those already recorded. The officers assert their belief that Sir JOHN is still alive and shut up by ice, at a point beyond any which the expedition was able to reach. They have applied to the government for a steam propeller, with which, they are confident, they can reach the region where he is supposed to be confined. No answer to this application has yet been made.

The Crystal Palace continued to be crowded with visitors. The approaching close of the Exhibition had caused an increase in the number in attendance. The close is fixed for the middle of October, and notwithstanding the strenuous efforts made for its preservation, the building will probably be taken down soon after.

Hon. ABBOTT LAWRENCE, the American Minister, has been making a tour through Ireland. He was received every where with great enthusiasm. Public receptions awaited him at Galway and Limerick, and at both these cities he made brief addresses, expressing the interest taken by himself and his countrymen in the affairs of Ireland. The project of a line of steamers between Galway and the Atlantic coast was pressed upon his attention.

Emigration from Ireland continues rapidly to increase, and many towns have been almost depopulated. Every body who can get away seems inclined to leave. The census returns show that the population of Ireland has diminished very considerably within the last ten years. The potato crop promises to be generally good, though the disease has made its appearance in several localities. In all other crops the returns will be above the average.

An experiment has been made in England with a steam plow, which proved highly successful.

Another attempt has been made, with a good degree of success, to establish telegraphic communication across the Straits of Dover. A large cable has been prepared and sunk in the Channel from one shore to the other, and so far as could be perceived, it promised to answer the purpose. This will bring London into immediate connection with every part of the Continent.

FRANCE.

The government is pushing to the extreme its measures of severity against the press. Upon the merest rumor about two hundred foreigners were suddenly arrested by the authorities, on charge of conspiracy, though investigation proved the charge to be utterly groundless, and led to the immediate discharge of most of them. The _Constitutionnel_ lavished the most extravagant eulogiums upon the government for its action in this case. One of the sons of Victor Hugo in a newspaper article ventured to protest against these eulogiums, for which he was condemned to an imprisonment of nine months, and a fine of 2200 francs; and M. Meurice, the proprietor of the _Evenement_, the paper in which the article appeared, to imprisonment for nine months, and a fine of 3000 francs. The _Presse_ was condemned in a similar penalty for a like offense, and several papers in the country districts have been visited with the utmost severity for reflecting upon the government. Meantime the official journals are allowed to indulge in the most direct and emphatic denunciations of the Republic.

The whole tendency of the government is toward an unbridled despotism. Arrests are made on the slightest suspicion. Police agents are quartered in cafes. Houses are entered and papers searched, in a style befitting the worst despotism in the world rather than a nominal Republic. There have been various rumors of conspiracies and intended insurrection, but they seem to have been groundless.

The President laid the foundation stone of the great central market hall, which the city is erecting at a cost of over five million dollars, near St. Eustache. The ceremony was witnessed by an immense concourse. The President in his speech took occasion to express the hope that he might be able to "lay upon the soil of France some foundations whereupon will be erected a social edifice, sufficiently solid to afford a shelter against the violence and mobility of human passions."

EASTERN AND SOUTHERN EUROPE.

An important commercial treaty has been concluded in Germany. Hanover has joined the Prussian Zollverein, having heretofore been the head of a separate association, called the Steuerverein, which has been by this movement dissolved. The custom-duties of the Zollverein have been levied on a protective scale; by this new arrangement, the rates will be lowered. The conclusion of this treaty has created a marked sensation in Vienna, as the journals there were loudly predicting the dissolution of the Zollverein.

The Emperor of Austria has written to Prince Schwartzenberg, urging the necessity of increased economy in public affairs. The King of Prussia is about to abolish the Landwehr, and have none but regular troops in his service.

The Austrian government has exercised its severity upon the humorist, Saphir, who edited a small paper in Vienna. He has been sentenced to three months' imprisonment and the suppression of his journal for a similar period, for having printed a humorous article on the recent ordinances, which the court-martial declared to be an attempt to excite popular ill-feeling toward the government. He is over sixty years old, and quite infirm from disease. The authorities, as if to make their acts as ridiculous as possible, lately punished a printer and a hatter, the former for wearing, and the latter for making a Klapka hat. The whole system of government is oppressive and tyrannical in the extreme. A writer from Vienna to the London _Daily News_, says that it hampers, impedes, nay, crushes, every kind of superior talent not of a military cast. Lawyers of all kinds are suspected of treason, even those whom the government itself employs; they are watched; their practice is taken away from them; they are not permitted to plead before the courts-martial sitting every where; the universities are all placed under martial law, that of Vienna is entirely suppressed; the professors and teachers of all kinds are left to their own resources; literature is closed to them; no one writes books, for a publisher will not publish any thing but of the lightest character; newspapers can not employ men of talent; in fine, nothing but soldiering or police spying seems left to the majority of the educated classes.

The Austrian government have found it necessary to resort to a loan, of some ten or twelve millions of dollars, of which, at the latest advices, over half had been taken, mainly on the Continent.

The Neapolitan government has published an official reply to the charges against it contained in the letters of Mr. Gladstone. These charges were of the most serious character, implicating the government in acts of cruelty, which would have disgraced the barbarous tribes of Africa. Mr. Gladstone solemnly arraigned the government, before the public opinion of the civilized world, as being an "incessant, systematic, deliberate violation of law," with the direct object of destroying whole classes of citizens, and those the very classes upon which the health, solidity, and progress of the nation depend. A series of special instances was given to sustain these charges. The reply consists in a denial of the charges, and in specific refutation of many of the facts alleged. It is a carefully prepared paper, and has done something to moderate the very harsh judgment which Mr. Gladstone's letters induced almost every one to form.

A letter from Rome, published in the Paris _Debats_ states that another attempt to murder by means of an explosive contrivance, had occurred there within the last few days. A tube, filled with gunpowder and bits of iron, had been placed in a passage leading to the laboratory of a chemist, at whose shop several persons, well-known for their attachment to the Pontifical Government, usually meet in the early part of the evening. Fortunately the match fell out of the tube, after having been lighted, and the explosion did not take place. The police had not discovered the culprit.

The same letter mentions a new difficulty that has lately arisen between the French and Papal authorities at Civita Vecchia. The new French packets of the Messageries having superseded the old _bateaux-postes_, it appears that the captain of one of the former, claimed for his ship the privileges of a vessel of war, a claim which the sanitary authorities of Civita Vecchia would not admit; whereupon Colonel de la Mare, commandant of the garrison of Civita Vecchia, had two or three of the _employes_ of the Board of Health arrested. It was believed, however, that the question will be amicably settled.

In SPAIN public attention has been almost entirely absorbed in the Cuban question. The Spanish papers were very violent against the United States, and clamored loudly for war, though the necessity of European aid in such a contest is very sensibly felt. It is announced with every appearance of truth, that England and France have entered into engagements with Spain for the purpose of preventing future attempts upon Cuba from the United States. To what extent this guarantee goes we have no precise information; but it is stated in the Paris journals that a French steamer has been dispatched to the United States for the express purpose of making representations to our government upon the subject. Spain has sent reinforcements to her army in Cuba and is taking active steps to increase her naval strength for an anticipated collision with the United States.

The usual party struggles agitate the Spanish Capital. It is said that the Government contemplate decided reforms in the Tariff regulations of the country, maintaining the protective duties wherever Spanish manufactures can be aided thereby, and encouraging competition in all those branches which have been stationary hitherto.

TURKEY.

Intelligence has been received of the departure of KOSSUTH and his Hungarian companions from Constantinople, in the steamer Mississippi, for the United States. They arrived at Smyrna on the 12th of September, and are daily expected at New York as we close this Record of the month. It is understood that Austria employed her utmost resources of diplomacy to prevent the release of KOSSUTH, but they were ineffectual. She will probably now seek to punish Turkey for disregarding her wishes, by sending the chiefs of the Bosnian rebellion again into Bosnia, to rekindle the flame. She concentrates her troops on the frontiers of Bosnia, Servia, and Wallachia. She attempts to gain the leading men in Servia, and she encourages and patronizes the former princes of Servia, who are still pretenders. Thus it is tried to kindle a new revolution in that country. Russia apparently keeps aloof on the question of the liberation of Kossuth, ready to profit by the opportunity to present herself either as protecting the Porte, should the revolution succeed, or as mediator, should the difficulties with Austria lead to the brink of a rupture.

Omer Pasha, the Sultan's great general, remains in Bosnia, as long as the difficulties with Austria are not settled. In consequence of the Austrian movements he had concentrated 30,000 men in this province. The Servian Government has given orders for the armament of the militia, at the same time an explanation has been required from Austria as to the concentration of her troops on the frontier.

The political condition and prospects of Turkey, notwithstanding the representations of her papers, are represented as very far from promising. A correspondent of the London Morning Chronicle depicts her position in gloomy colors. She is tormented, he says, on every side. On the one hand, France imperiously demands the Holy Sepulchre; on the other, Russia as imperiously forbids her giving it up. If she gives in to France, the whole Christian population will rise to a man against her. The Pasha of Egypt and the Bey of Tunis both refuse to obey her, and of all the troops with their fine uniforms and arms which parade at Constantinople, not one dare go against these audacious subjects. The provinces of the empire are a prey to brigandage on a scale which makes even all that is said of Greek brigandage appear as nothing. In the mean time the treasury is empty, nor can all the expedients resorted to succeed in filling it. The national feeling, always against the system of reform, which was quite superficial, has broken out openly, and the people, supported by the clergy, are ready to rise on all sides. Even in the capital this state of feeling is very prevalent, and shows itself by the usual barbarous expedient of incendiary fires. There have been several very severe ones, even within the last few days. One time three hundred of the largest houses in Constantinople were reduced to ashes; next fifteen hundred houses in Scutari fell, including all the markets, magazines, mills, and probably the whole town would have followed, had it not been for a violent fall of rain, which quelled the fire.

It is, above all, the position of the Christians, which is deplorable and precarious. The scenes of Aleppo last year are now acting in Magnesia, and threaten to break out again at Aleppo, where the Government wants to force the inhabitants to pay an indemnity to the Christians, which they insolently refuse. The Government, in trying to maintain her system of progress, is but showing her weakness. She is obliged to keep an army of observation constantly on foot in Bosnia, where the revolt is not by any means entirely quelled, and which is covered with bands of brigands ready to unite and become an insurgent army. Bagdad is in a state of siege by the Arabs, who fly as soon as pursued, but quickly return, devastating the country wherever they appear.

PERSIA.

Important news has been received from Teheran, announcing a serious coolness between Russia and Persia, and the possibility of a rupture between these governments. Several months ago some Turcomans are alleged to have set fire to Russian vessels in the Caspian, near Astrabad, and massacred the crews. Orders were consequently sent from St. Petersburg to the Russian embassador at Teheran to demand the immediate dismissal of the governor of Mazanderan, or to haul down his flag. The dismissal has been finally granted, but only after difficulties which have brought about the coolness above mentioned. The same mail from Persia brings intelligence that the governor of Herat, Yar-Mehemed Khan, having died, the Shah immediately sent troops to occupy that city, notwithstanding the opposition of the English minister.

INDIA AND THE EAST.

News from Calcutta has been received to the 1st of September. We mentioned last month the probable seizure by the English government, of part of the provinces of the Nizam as security for a debt. We now learn that he has rescued his territory from seizure by paying part of the money due, and giving, security for the remainder. He had pledged part of the Hyderabad jewels. A conspiracy to effect the escape of Moolraj had been discovered in Calcutta. It was reported that the Arsenal had been set on fire and the prisoners liberated in the confusion. Twenty villages round about Goolburgah had been plundered and burned by the Rohillas. It was mentioned, in the way of a report, that the troops of Goolab Singh had been beaten in a conflict with the people some four days' journey from Cashmere. A great many men and a quantity of baggage were said to have been lost. The Calcutta railroad progresses, notwithstanding the rainy season; the terminus had been chosen, and the necessary ground for its erection, and that of the requisite office has been purchased at Howrah.

In CHINA the rebellion continued to extend. The Imperial troops had not been able to make any impression upon the rebels. A good deal of alarm was felt at Canton in regard to the probable result.

In AUSTRALIA the discoveries of gold absorb attention. The reported existence of the mines is not only confirmed, but it is proved that even rumor has under-estimated the extent and value of the gold region. The government itself, satisfied from the official report, has moved in the matter, and has put forth a claim to the precious metal, prohibiting any one from taking gold or metal from any property within the territory of New South Wales, and threatening with punishment any person finding gold in the uninhabited parts of the said territory which has not yet been disposed of, or ceded by the Crown, or who shall search or dig for gold in and upon such territory. The proclamation adds that "upon receipt of further information upon this matter, such regulations shall be made as may be considered just and decisive, and shall be published as soon as possible, whereby the conditions will be made known on which, by the payment of a reasonable sum, licenses shall be granted." Although this proclamation was issued on the publication of the discovery, the government had taken no steps to carry out the licensing system, apparently sensible that the means at their command were insufficient to compel parties to abandon their rich and selected spots. The accounts received from Sydney to June 5th are full of the gold discoveries. There were about 16,000 to 20,000 persons employed at the diggings, comprising all classes, from the polite professions to handicraftsmen, runaway policemen, and seamen from the shipping. Indeed, desertions from the latter were so numerous and frequent, that vessels were quitting for fear of similar desertions and the destruction of shipping as occurred at California, in consequence of whole crews flitting to the mines. At Sydney labor had advanced fifty per cent., but up to the above date accounts of the gold-finding had not reached the sister settlements. The gold range of the Blue Mountains extended nearly 400 miles in length, and about forty miles wide.

Editor's Table.

Westward--EVER WESTWARD has been the marching symbol of mankind from the earliest periods to the present. The striking fact is suggested in the well known line of Bishop Berkeley--

WESTWARD the course of empire takes its way.

"The progress of the race," says the German psychologist Rauch, "has ever been against the rotation of the earth, and toward the setting sun;" as though it were in obedience to some natural law common to all planets that revolve upon their axes. We may reject this as fanciful; and yet there are some reasons why the primitive roaming tendency, or spirit of discovery, should have taken one direction rather than another--reasons grounded, not on any direct physiological magnetism, but upon the effect of certain outward phenomena on the course of human thought. Especially may we believe in some such influence as existing in that young and impressible period, when an unchanging direction may be rationally supposed to have been derived from the first faintest impressions, either upon the sense or the intelligence. To the early musing, meditative mind, the setting, rather than the ascending or meridian sun, would most naturally connect itself with the ideas of the vast and the undiscovered--the remote, legendary land, where the light goes down so strangely behind the mountains, or on the other side of the seemingly boundless plain, or beyond the deserts' solitary waste, or away on the ocean wave, as it grows dim in the misty horizon, or presents in its vanishing outline the far-off, shadowy isle. The darkness, too, that follows, would nourish the same feeling of mysterious interest, and thus aid in giving rise to that impulse, which, when once originated, maintains itself afterward by its own onward self-determining energy.

But whatever we may think, either of the poetry or the philosophy, there can be no denying the historical fact. _Westward_, _ever westward_, has been the course of emigration, of civilization, of learning, and of religion. It was so in the days of the Patriarchs, and the process is still going on in the middle of the nineteenth century. The first express mention of such a tendency we find in one of the earliest notices of Holy Writ. "_And it came to pass, as they journeyed from the east, they came to the land of Shinar, and they settled there_"--Gen. xi. 2. The language would imply that the process had been going on for some time before. The east there mentioned was the country beyond the great river Euphrates, whence, as those learned in the sacred language would inform us, came the name _Hebrews_, the _Trans-Euphratean_ colonists, or those who had come over the great bounding stream that separated the "old countries," or the "cradle of the race," from the then new and unexplored western world. The next migration of which we have a particular account is that of Abraham who journeyed from Ur of the Chaldees to the promised land. Previous to this, however, the most extensive movements had taken place. Egypt was already settled by the stream, which, taking a southwest deflection, was destined to fill the vast continent of Africa. It was after the dispersion at Babel that the main current of humanity moved rapidly and steadily onward in the direction of the original impulse. There was indeed a tendency toward the east, but it never had the same impetus from the start; and its movement resembled more the flow of a sluggish backwater, than the natural progress. It sooner came to a stand, such as we find it represented in the civilization of India, Thibet, and China, dead and stagnant as it has been for centuries. But the western flood was ever onward, onward--a stream of living water, carrying with it the best life of humanity, and the ultimate destinies of the race. A bare glance at the map of the world will show what were the original courses of emigration. Asia must have poured into Europe through three principal channels--through Asia Minor and the isles of Greece, across the Hellespont by the way of Thrace and the lower part of Central Europe, or between the Black and Caspian seas, through the regions afterward occupied by Gog and Magog, and Meshek, or the Scythian, the Gothic, and the Muscovite hordes. But light and civilization ever went mainly by the way of the sea. The intercourse from coast to coast, and from isle to isle, was more favorable to cultivation of manners, and elevation of thought, than the laborious passages through the dark forests of the north, or the torrid deserts of the south; and hence the early superiority of the sons of Javan, and Kittim, and Tarshish, or in short, of all whose advance was ever along that great high way of civilization, the Mediterranean Sea. "By these," to use the language of Scripture, "were the isles of the Gentiles divided in their lands." The most crowded march, however, must have been that taken up by the sons of Tiras, and Gomer, and Ashkenaz, by way of Thrace, and the mid regions of Europe. We have one proof of this in the name given to the famous crossing-place between Europe and Asia. It was called by an oriental word denoting the _passage of flocks and herds_, and hence, to the thousands and tens of thousands who constantly gathered on its banks, it was the _Bosphorus_ (bo-os, poros), the _Ox-ford_ or ox-ferry--a most notable spot in the world's early emigration, the name of which the Greeks afterward translated into their own tongue, and then, according to their usual custom, invented, or accommodated, for its explanation, the mythus of the wandering Io.

But still, through all these channels, it was _ever westward_, ever from the rising and toward the setting sun. It may be a matter of curious interest to note how the word itself seems to have moved onward with the march of mankind. The far-off, unknown land, for the time being, was ever _the West_--departing farther and farther from the terminus which each succeeding age had placed, and continually receding from the emigrant, like Hesperia (the _West_ of the AEneid) ever flying before the wearied Trojans--

Oras Hesperiae semper fugientis.

In the very earliest notices of sacred history, Canaan was the _West_. When Abraham arrived there from Ur of the Chaldees, he found the pioneers had gone before him. "The Canaanites," it is said, "were already in the land," although soon to give way to a more heaven-favored race. Next the coast of the Philistines becomes the _West_. Then the Great Sea, or the Mediterranean, with its stronghold of Tyre, as it is called, Joshua xix. 29. Tyre, the ancient Gibraltar, "the entry of the waters" (Ezek. xxvii. 1), and which was to be "the merchant of the people for many isles." In this way the language derived its fixed name for this quarter of the horizon. As the north is called by a word meaning the _dark or hidden_ place, so the sea ever denotes the west. Hence the Psalmist's method of expressing the immensity of the Divine presence; "Should I take the wings of the morning (or the east) and dwell in the parts beyond the sea," or the uttermost _west_, "even then shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand still shall hold me." In the next period, the _west_ is removed to the land of Chittim (Gen. x. 4), or the modern isle of Cyprus, of which there is a city yet remaining with the radicals of the ancient name. Among other places it is mentioned, Isaiah xxiii. 1. "News from the land of Chittim," or, "From the land of Chittim is it revealed unto them," says the prophet in his account of the wide-spread commerce of Tyre. It would almost seem like a modern bulletin from San Francisco and California. Soon, however, the ever retiring terminus is to be found in the country of Caphtor (Jeremiah xlvii. 4), or the island of Crete, first settled by the roving Cretites, or Cherethites, from a more ancient city of the same name on the coast of Philistia (Deut. ii. 23), and not in a reverse direction, as some would suppose. Again it recedes rapidly among the "Isles of the Sea," so often mentioned in the Scriptures, and which becomes a general name for the remote--the countries beyond the waters, and, in fact, for all Europe. Proceeding from what was imperfectly known as Cyprus and the AEgean Archipelago, the early Orientals would seem to have regarded all this quarter of the world as one vast collection of islands, in distinction from the main earth, main land, or Continent of Asia. Hence the contrast, Ps. xcvii. 1:

The Lord is King--Let the _earth_ rejoice Let the many _isles_ be glad.

Leaving behind us the Jews, and taking Homer for our guide, we next find the _west_ in Greece as opposed to the Eoian realm of Troy, or the land toward the morning dawn. In the interval between the Iliad and the Odyssey, another transition has taken place. The latter poem is separate from the former in space as well as in time. The Odyssey is west of the Iliad. It is the "setting sun" in a sense different from that intended by the critic Longinus, but no less true and significant. Epirus, Phaecia, and the Ionian isles (as they have been called), are now the _West_. Sicily is just heard of as the _ultima regio_ of the known world. It is the mythical land of the cannibal Cyclops, and beyond it dwells the King of the Winds. To the Trojan followers of AEneas, Italy is _the West_--the land of promise to the exiles fleeing from the wars of the older eastern world. The imagination pictured it as lying under the far distant Hesper, or evening star, and hence it was called _Hesperia_:

Graio cognomine dicta.

But we must travel more rapidly onward. In the noon of the Roman empire, Spain and Gaul were the West, the _terra occidentalis_. Soon Britain and Ireland take the place and name. It was to the same quarters, too, on the breaking up of this immense Roman mass, that the main element of its strength moved onward, although the mere shadow of empire remained in the slow decaying East. And now for centuries the march seemed impeded by the great ocean barrier, until the same original impulse, gathering strength by long delay, at length achieved the discovery of what, more emphatically than all other lands, has been called _The Western World_. Every one knows how rapid has been the same movement since. Scarcely had the eastern shores been visited, when hardy adventurers brought news of a _western_ coast, and of a _Western Ocean_, still beyond. This remoter sea becomes the mythical terminus in the grants and charters of the first English settlements, as though in anticipation of the future greatness of the empire of which they were to form the constituent parts. Since then how swift has been the same march across the new discovered continent! Rapid as must be our sketch, it is hardly more so than the reality it represents. Even within the memory of persons not yet past the meridian of life, a portion of our own State was called the _West_. The name was given to the land of the Mohawks and the Six Nations; but like Hesperia of old, it was always flying in the van of advancing cultivation. Soon Ohio becomes the _West_, along with Indiana, Illinois, and Kentucky. Then Michigan is the _West_. In a few years Wisconsin assumes the appellation; then Iowa; then Minnesota; while, in another quarter, Missouri and Arkansas successively carry on the steady march toward the setting sun. It is true, there seemed to be a pause in sight of the obstacles presented by the barren plains of Texas and New Mexico, but it was only to burst over them with a more powerful impetus. And California is now the _West_--the land of gold and golden hope. It is now, to the present age, what Canaan was to the Hebrews (we mean, of course, geographically), or as the isles of the sea to the sons of Javan and Tarshish, or as Italy to the Trojan exiles. But is the movement there to find its termination? The next step mingles it with the remains of the old Eastern civilization. China and India must yet feel its revivifying power, and then the rotation will have been complete. Ophir has been already reached, and soon the long journeying of restless humanity will come round again to the plain of Shinar, or the region in which commenced the original dispersion of the race.

Some most serious reflections crowd upon the mind in connection with such a thought. What, during all this period, has been the real progress of humanity? In certain aspects of the question the answer is most prompt and easy. In the supply of physical wants, and in facilities for physical communication, the advance gained has been immense. But are men--the mass of men--really wiser in respect to their truest good? Or are they yet infatuated with that old folly of building a tower, whose top should reach unto heaven? In other words, are they still seeking to get above the earth by earthly means, and fancying that through science, or philosophy, or "liberal institutions," or any other magic name, they may obtain a self-elevating power, which shall lift them above _physical_ and moral evil. Will the long and toilsome march be followed by that true _gnothi seauton_, that real self-knowledge, which is cheaply obtained even at such a price, or will it be only succeeded by another varied exhibition of the selfish principle, the more malignant in proportion as it is more refined, another Babel of opinions, another confusion of speech, another proof of the feebleness and everlasting unrest of humanity while vainly seeking to be independent of Heaven?

* * * * *

Marriage has ever been closely allied to religion. It has had its altar, its offering, its rites, its invocation, its shrine, its mysteries, its mystical significance. "It is _honorable_," says the Apostle. "_Precious_," some commentators tell us, the epithet should be rendered--of _great value_, of _highest price_. In either sense, it would well denote what may be called, by way of eminence, the conservative institution of human society, the channel for the transmission of its purest life, and for this very reason, the object ever of the first and fiercest attacks of every scheme of disorganizing radical philosophy. In harmony with this idea there was a deep significance in some of the Greek marriage ceremonies; and among these none possessed a profounder import than the custom of carrying a torch, or torches, in the bridal procession. Especially was this the mother's delightful office. It was hers, in a peculiar manner, to bear aloft the blazing symbol before the daughter, or the daughter-in-law, and there was no act of her life to which the heart of a Grecian mother looked forward with a more lively interest. It was, on the other hand, a ground of the most passionate grief, when an early death, or some still sadder calamity, cut off the fond anticipation. Thus Medea--

I go an exile to a foreign land, Ere blest in you, or having seen you blessed. That rapturous office never shall be mine, To adorn the bride, and with a mother's hand, Lift high the nuptial torch.

Like many other classical expressions, it has passed into common use, and become a mere conventional phraseology. This is the case with much of our poetical and rhetorical dialect. Metaphors, which, in their early usage, presented the most vivid conceptions, and were connected with the profoundest significance, have passed away into dead formulas. They keep the flow of the rhythm, they produce a graceful effect in rounding a period, they have about them a faint odor of classicality, but the life has long since departed. As far as any impressive meaning is concerned, a blank space would have answered almost as well. The "altar of Hymen," the "nuptial torch," suggest either nothing at all, or a cold civil engagement, with no higher sanctions than a justice's register, or the business-like dispatch of what, in many cases, is a most unpoetical, as well as a most secular transaction.

The nuptial torch was significant of marriage, as the divinely appointed means through which the lamp of life is sent down from generation to generation. It was the symbol of the true vitality of the race, as preserved in the single streams of the "isolated household," instead of being utterly lost in the universal conflagration of unregulated passion. It was the kindling of a new fire from the ever-burning hearth of Vesta. It was the institution of a new domestic altar. The torch was carried by the mother in procession before the daughter, or the daughter-in-law, and then given to the latter to perform the same office, with the same charge, to children, and children's children, down through all succeeding generations. Such a custom, and such a symbol, never could have originated where polygamy prevailed, nor have been ever preserved in sympathy with such a perversion of the primitive idea. Neither could it maintain itself where marriage is mainly regarded as a civil contract, having no other sanction for its commencement, and, of course, no other for its dissolution, than the consent of the parties. Have we not reason to suppose that some such conception is already gaining ground among us. It would seem to come from that wretched individualism, the source of so many social errors, which would regard marriage as a transaction for the convenience of the parties, and subject to their spontaneity, rather than in reference to society or the race. The feeling which lends its aid to such a sophism, is promoted by the prevailing philosophy in respect to what are called "woman's rights." We allude not now to its more extravagant forms, but to that less offensive, and more plausible influence, which, in the name of humanity and of protection to the defenseless, is in danger of sapping the foundation of a most vital institution. We can not be too zealous in guarding the person or property of the wife against the intemperate or improvident husband; but it should be done, and it can be done, without marring that sacred oneness which is the vitality of the domestic commonwealth. In applying the sharp knife of reform in this direction, it should be seen to, that we do not cut into the very life of the _idea_--to use a favorite phrase of the modern reformer. No evil against which legislation attempts to guard, can be compared with the damage which might come from such a wound. No hurt might be more incurable than one that would result from families of children growing up every where with the familiar thought of divided legal interests in the joint source whence they derived their birth. There must be something holy in that which the apostle selected as the most fitting comparison of the relation between Christ and his Church; and there have been far worse superstitions (if it be a superstition) than the belief which would regard marriage as a sacrament. Be this, however, as it may, it is the other error of which we have now the most reason to be afraid. There is a process going forward on the pages of the statute book, in judicial proceedings respecting divorce, and in the general tendency of certain opinions, which is insensibly undermining an idea, the most soundly conservative in the best sense of the term, the most sacred in its religious associations, as well as the most important in its bearings upon the highest earthly good of the human race.

The opposing philosophy sometimes comes in the most plausible and insidious shape. It, too, has its religionism. It talks loftily of the "holy marriage of hearts," and of the sacredness of the _affection_; but in all this would only depreciate the sacredness of the outward relation. It affects to be conservative, moreover. It would preserve and exalt the essence in distinction from the form. It has much to say of "legalized adulteries." The affection, it affirms, is holier than any outward bond. But let it be remembered that the first is human and changeable, the second is divine and permanent. It is the high consideration, too, of the one that, more than any earthly means, would tend to preserve the purity of the other. The relation is the regulator of the affection, the mould through which it endures, the constraining form in which alone it acquires the unity, and steadiness, and consistency of the idea, in distinction from the capricious spontaneity of the individual passion. Let no proud claim, then, of inward freedom, assuming to be holier than the outward bond, pretend to sever what God has joined together. At no time, perhaps, in the history of the world, and of the church, has there been more need of caution against such a sophism than in this age so boastful of its lawless subjectivity, or in other words, its higher rule of action, transcending the outward and positive ordinance.

* * * * *

Charity is love--Liberality is often only another name for indifference. The bare presentation of the terms in their true relation, is enough to show the immense opposition between them. _Charity_ is _tenderness_. "It suffereth long and is kind." But the same authority tells us, likewise, that "it rejoiceth in the truth." Except as connected with a fervent interest in principles we hold most dear, the word loses all significance, and the idea all vitality. Even when it assumes the phase of intolerance, it is a nobler and more precious thing than the liberality which often usurps its name. In this aspect, however, it is ever the sign of an unsettled and a doubting faith. He who is well established in his own religious convictions can best afford to be charitable. He has no fear and no hatred of the heretic lest he should take from him his own insecure foundation. His feet upon a rock, he can have no other than feelings of tenderness for the perishing ones whom he regards as struggling in the wild waters below him. How can he be uncharitable, or unkind, to those of his companions in the perilous voyage, who, in their blindness, or their weakness, or it may be in the perverse madness of their depravity, can not, or will not lay hold of the plank which he offers for their escape because it is the one on which he fondly hopes he himself has rode out the storm. They may call his warm zeal bigotry and uncharitableness; but then, what name shall be given to that greater madness, that fiercer intolerance, which would not only reject the offered aid, but exercise vindictive feelings toward the hand that would draw them out of the overwhelming billows?

One of the richest illustrations of the view here presented is to be found in the writings of that _durus pater_, Saint Augustine. We find nothing upon our editorial table more precious--nothing that we would send forth on the wings of our widely circulated Magazine, with a more fervent desire that it might, not only meet the eye, but penetrate the heart of every reader "How can I be angry with you," says this noble father, in his controversy with the Manichaeans, "how can I be angry with you when I remember my own experience? Let him be angry with you who knows not with what difficulty error is shunned and truth is gained. Let him be angry with you, who knows not with what pain the spiritual light finds admission into the dark and diseased eye. Let him be angry with you, who knows not with what tears and groans the true knowledge of God and divine things is received into the bewildered human soul."

Editor's Easy Chair.

Since we last chatted with our readers, a month ago, old Autumn has fairly taken the year upon his shoulders, and is bearing him in his parti-colored jacket, toward the ice-pits of Winter. The soft advance of Indian Summer, with its harvest moons round and red, and its sunsets deep-dyed with blood and gold, is stealing smokily across the horizon, and witching us to a last smile of warmth, and to a farewell summer joyousness.

The town has changed, too, like the season: and the streets are all of them in the hey-day of the Autumn flush. The country merchants are gone home, and the Southern loiterers are creeping lazily southward--preaching the best of Union discourses--with their geniality and their frankness. The old Broadway hours of promenade are coming again; and you can see blithe new-married couples, and wishful lovers, at morning and evening, lighting up the _trottoir_ with their sunshine. The wishful single ones too, are wearing new fronts of hope, as the town-men settle again into their winter beat, and feel, in their bachelor chambers, the lack of that stir of sociality, which enlivens the summer of the springs.

Old married people too--not so joyous as once--forget all the disputes of the old winter, in the pleasant approaches of a new one; and try hard to counterfeit a content which they esteem and desire.

But with all its gayety, theatre-running, concert-going, and shopping, the town wears underneath a look of sad sourness. Merchants that were as chatty as the most loquacious magpies only a five-month gone, are suddenly grown as gruff and dumb as the Norwegian bears. The tightness of Wall-street has an uncommon "effect upon facial muscles;" and men that would have been set down by the "Medical Examiners" as good for a ten years' lease of life, are now wearing a visage that augurs any thing but healthy action of the liver.

Even our old friends that we parted from in May, as round and dimpled as country wenches, have met us the week past with a rueful look, and have said us as short a welcome as if we were their creditors. We pity sadly the poor fellow, who, with a firm reliance on the steady friendship of his old companion, goes to him in these times for a loan of a "few thousands." Friendship has a hard chance for a livelihood nowadays in Wall-street; and the man that would give us an easy shake of the hand when we met him on 'Change in the spring, will avoid us now as if he feared contagion from our very look.

The fat old gentlemen who used to loll into our office in May-time, to read the journals, and crack stale jokes, and quietly puff out one or two of our choice Regalias, have utterly vanished. We find no invitations to dine upon our table--no supper cards for a "sit-down" to fried oysters and Burgundy "punctually at nine."

Wall-street is the bugbear that frights New York men out of all their valor; and, as is natural enough, Wall-street, and specie, and heavy imports; and a new tariff, and the coming crop of cotton are just now at the top of the talk of the town.

Let our good readers then, allow for this incubus, in tracing the jottings down, this month, of our usually gossiping pen. Let them remember in all charity that two per cent. a month, for paper good as the bank, makes a very poor stimulant for such pastime as literary gossip. When our men of business replace their Burgundy and Lafitte of 1841, with merely merchantable Medoc, readers surely will be content with a plain boiled dish, trimmed off with a few carrots, in place of the rich _ragouts_, with which, at some future time, we shall surely tickle their appetite.

* * * * *

The Northern Expedition under the lead of Lieutenant De Haven, has given no little current to the chit-chat of the autumn hours; and people have naturally been curious to see some of the brave fellows who wintered it among the crevices of the Polar ice, and who braved a night of some three months' darkness. It is just one of those experiences which must be passed through to be realized; nor can we form any very adequate conceptions (and Heaven forbid that experience should ever improve our conceptions!) of a night which lasts over weeks of sleeping, and waking, and watching--of a night which knows neither warmth, nor daybreak--a night which counts by cheerless months, and has no sounds to relieve its darkness, but the fearful crashing of ice bergs, and the low growl of stalking bears.

What a waste of resolution and of energy has been suffered in those northern seas! And yet it is no waste; energy is never wasted when its action is in the sight of the world. It tells on new development, and quickens impulse for action, wherever the story of it goes.

It is, to be sure, sad enough that the poor Lady Franklin must go on mourning; but she has the satisfaction of knowing that sympathy with her woes has enlisted thousands of brave beating hearts, and has led them fearlessly into the very bosom of those icy perils, which now, and we fear must forever, shroud the fate of her noble husband. Nor is that grief and devotion of the Lady Franklin without its teaching of beneficence. Its story adds to the dignity of humanity, and quickens the ardor of a thousand hearts, who watch it as a beacon of that earnest and undying affection, which belongs to a true heart-life, but which rarely shows such brilliant tokens of its strength.

* * * * *

Perhaps it is fortunate that at a time when commerce is shaking with an ague, that makes pallid cheeks about town, there should be such a flush as now in the histrionic life of the city. Scarce a theatre or concert-room but has its stars; and if music and comedy have any great work of goodness to do in this world, it may surely be in relieving despondency and lightening the burdens of misfortune.

Miss Catharine Hays is a very good chit-chat topic for any breakfast-room of the town; and although she has not excited that excess of furor which was kindled by the Swedish singer, she has still gained a reputation whose merits are spoken with enthusiasm, and will be remembered with affection. Poor, suffering Ireland can not send to such a sympathetic nation as this, a pretty, graceful, pure-minded songstress--whatever might be her qualities--without enlisting a fervor that would shower her path with gold, and testify its strength with flowers and huzzas.

Madame THILLON is pointing much of the after-dinner talk with story of her beauty; and connoiseurs in cheeks and color are having amiable quarrels about her age and eyes. Mrs. WARNER is drawing somewhat of the worn-out Shakspearean taste to a new rendering of Elizabethan comedy. In short the town is bent on driving away the stupor of dull trade with the cheer of art and song.

* * * * *

Speaking of art, reminds us of the new picture which is just now gracing the halls of the Academy of Design. It is precisely one of those Art-wonders which, with its great stock of portraits to be discussed, makes the easiest imaginable hinge of talk. It is Healy's great picture of Daniel Webster in his place in the Senate Chamber, replying to General Hayne of South Carolina. The work has been a long time under Mr. Healy's thought and hand, and is perfected, if not with elaborateness, at least with an artistic finish and arrangement that will make the picture one of the great Western pictures. We could wish indeed--although we hazard the opinion with our _easy_ diffidence--that Mr. Healy had thrown a little more of the Demosthenic _action_ into the figure, and bearing of the orator; yet, with all its quietude, it shows the port of a strong man. Indeed, in contrast with the boy-like presentment of General Hayne, it almost appears that the fire of the speaker is wasting on trifles; yet, if we may believe contemporaneous history, Hayne was by no means a weak man, and if the fates had not thrust him upon such Titan conflict too early, there might well have been renowned deeds to record of the polished Southron. The initiate lookers-on will see good distance-views of Mrs. Webster, of Mrs. George P. Marsh, and of sundry other ladies, who were by no means so matronly at the date of the "Union" Speech as Mr. Healy's complimentary anachronism would imply.

* * * * *

The Art Union is coming in for its share of the autumn love of warm tints and glowing colors; and if we might trust a hasty look-in on our way to office duties, we should say there was a scalding brightness about some of the coloring which needs an autumn haze to subdue it to a healthy tone. For all this there are gems scattered up and down, which will woo the eye to a repeated study, and, if we may judge from the flocking crowds, educate the public taste to an increasing love of whatever is lovable in Art.

Leutze's great picture of Washington, will, before this shall have reached the eye of our readers, have won new honors to the name of the painter of the Puritan iconoclasts; and we count it a most healthful augury for American art, that the great painting should have created in advance such glowing expectations.

* * * * *

We wish to touch with our pen nib--as the observant reader has before this seen--whatever is hanging upon the lip of the town; and with this wish lighting us, we can not of a surety pass by that new burst of exultation, which is just now fanning our clipper vessels, of all rig and build, into an ocean triumph.

Nine hundred and ninety odd miles of ocean way within three days' time, is not a speed to be passed over with mere newspaper mention; and it promises--if our steam-men do not look to their oars--a return to the old and wholesome service of wind and sail. We are chronicling here no imaginary run of a "Flying Dutchman," but the actual performance of the A Number One, clipper-built, and copper-fastened ship, FLYING CLOUD--Cressy, commander! And if the clipper-men can give us a line, Atlantic-wise, which will bowl us over the ocean toward the Lizard, at a fourteen-knot pace, and not too much spray to the quarter deck--they will give even the Collins' monsters a scramble for a triumph. There is a quiet exultation after all, in bounding over the heaving blue wave-backs, with no impelling power, but the swift breath of the god of winds, which steam-driven decks can never give. It is taking nature in the fulness of her bounty, and not cramping her gifts into boiling water-pots; it is a trust to the god of storms, that makes the breezes our helpers, and every gale to touch the cheek with the wanton and the welcome of an aiding brother!

* * * * *

Leaving now the matters of gossip around us, we propose to luxuriate in that atmosphere of gossip, which pervades the Paris world, and which comes wafted to us on the gauze _feuilletons_ of such as Jules Janin, and of Eugene Guinot. They tell us that the city world of France has withdrawn lazily and longingly from the baths of Aix-la-Chapelle and the beaches of Dieppe and Boulogne; and that the freshened beauties of the metropolis, are taking their first autumn-ing upon the shaded asphalte of the Champs Elysees. A little fraction of the _beau monde_ has just now taken its usual turn to the sporting ground of Dauphiny and Bretagne; but it is only for carrying out in retired quarters the series of flirtations, which the watering places have set on foot. The French have none of that relish for covers and moor shooting, which enters so largely into the English habit; and a French lady in a land-locked chateau--without a lover in the case--would be the sorriest Nekayah imaginable.

But, says Guinot, the country recluses are just now acquiring a taste for the races and for horsemanship; and he signalizes, in his way, a fairly-run match of ladies, well-known in the salons of Paris, which came off not long since in the grounds of some old country chateau. Among the other whim-whams, which this veteran wonder-teller sets down, is the story of an old Hollander, who every year makes his appearance at the springs of Ems, and devotes himself to _rouge et noir_ with the greatest assiduity, until he has won from the bank the sum of twenty-five thousand francs, when he gathers up his gold and disappears for another season. No run of good luck will induce him to increase his earnings, and no bad fortune in the early part of his visit will break down his purpose, until he has won his usual quota. The managers have even proposed to buy him off for half his usual earnings in advance, but he accepts of no compromise; and stolidly taking his seat at the table, with a bag of _rouleaux_ at his side, he stakes his money, and records upon a card the run of the colors--nor quits his place, until his bag is exhausted, or the rooms closed for the night.

As is usual with these tit-bits of French talk, no name is given to the Hollander, and he may live, for aught we know, only in the pestilent brain of the easy paragraphist.

* * * * *

Again, we render grace to French fertility of invention for this _petit histoire_, to which we ourselves venture to add a point or two, for the humor of this-side appetite.

Borrel, a great man in the kitchen, kept the famous Rocher de Cancale. Who has not heard of the Rocher de Cancale? Who has not dreamed of it when--six hours after a slim breakfast of rolls and coffee--he has tugged at his weary brain--as we do now--for the handle of a dainty period?

Borrel had a wife, prettier than she was wise--(which can be said of many wives--not Borrel's). Borrel was undersold by neighbor restaurateurs, and found all the world flocking to the Palais Royal caterers. Borrel's wife spent more than Borrel earned (which again is true of other wives). So that, finally, the Rocher de Cancale was ended: Borrel retired to private life with a bare subsistence; and, Borrel's wife, playing him false in his disgrace, ran away with a vagrant Russian.

Borrel languished in retirement: but his friends found him; and having fairly put him on his feet, thronged for a season his new Salon of Frascati. But directly came the upturn of February, and poor Borrel was again broken in business, and thrice broken in spirit. He took a miserable house without the Boulevard, in the quarter of the Batignolles, and only crept back to the neighborhood of his old princely quarters, like the vagrant starveling that he was, at dusk. Years hung heavily on him, and his domestic sorrows only aggravated his losses and his weakness.

But, in process of time, a Russian came to Paris, who had known the city in the days of the Rocher de Cancale. He came with his appetite sharpened for the luxurious dinners of the Rue Montorgueil. But, alas, for him--the famous Restaurant had disappeared, and in its place, was only a paltry show-window of _calecons_ and of _chemisettes_.

He inquired anxiously after the famous Borrel: some shook their heads, and had never heard the name: others, who had known the man, believed him dead. In despair he visited all the Restaurants of Paris, but, for a long time, in vain. At length, an old white-haired garcon of the Cafe de Paris, to whom he told his wishes, informed him of the miserable fate of the old Prince of suppers.

The Russian traced him to his humble quarters, supplied him with money and clothes--engaged him as his cook, took him away from his ungrateful city, and installed him, finally, as first Restaurateur of St. Petersburg.

His patron was passably old, but still a wealthy and prosperous merchant of the northern empire; and his influence won a reputation and a fortune for the reviving head of the house of Borrel. The strangest part (omitted by Lecomte), is yet to come.

Borrel had often visited his patron, but knew nothing of his history, or family: nor was it until after a year or two of the new life, that the poor Restaurateur discovered in the deft-handed housekeeper of his patron, his former wife of the Rue Montorgueil!

The discovery seemed a sad one for all concerned. Borrel could not but make a show for his wounded honor. His patron had no wish to lose an old servant; and the lady herself, now that the hey-day of her youth was gone, had learned a wholesome dread of notoriety. Wisely enough, each determined to sacrifice a little: Borrel was re-married to his wife; his patron found a new mistress of his household; and madame promised to live discreetly, and guard carefully the profits of the Russian Rocher de Cancale.

If this is not a good French story, we should like to know what it is?

* * * * *

Again we shift our vision to a _belle maison_ (pretty house) in a back quarter of London--newly furnished--a little cockneyish in taste, and with all the new books of the day, piled helter-skelter upon the library-table. The owner is a tall, laughing-faced, good natured, not over-bred man, who has traveled to Constantinople and Egypt--to say nothing of an adventurous trip to the top of Mont Blanc.

His history is written by the letter-writers in this way: Poor, and clever, he wrote verses, and essays, and sold them for what he could get; and some say filled and extracted teeth, to "make the ends meet." It is certain that he once walked the Hospitals of Paris, and that he knows the habits of the grisettes of the Quarter by the Pantheon.

A certain Lord happening upon him, and fancying his laughter-loving look, and waggish eye, cultivated his acquaintance, and proposed to him a trip to the East as his friend, courier, and what-not. Our hero assented--went with him as far as Trieste--quarreled with My Lord--parted from him--pushed his way by "hook and by crook" as far as Cheops--and returned to London with not a penny in his pocket.

Writing brought dull pay (as it always does), and the traveler thought of _talking_ instead. He advertised to tell his story in a lecture-room, with songs, and mimicry thrown in to enliven it. The people went slowly at first: finally, they talked of the talking traveler, and all the world went; and the adventurer found his purse filling, and his fortune made.

He bought the _belle maison_ we spoke of; and this summer past set off for Mont Blanc, and ascended it--not for the fun of the thing, but for the fun of telling it.

We suppose our readers will have recognized the man we have in our eye: to wit--ALBERT SMITH.

And that--says Lecomte--is the way they do things in England!

Editor's Drawer.

It was THOMAS HOOD, if we remember rightly ("poor Tom's a-cold" now)! whose "Bridge of Sighs," and "Song of the Shirt," both of them the very perfection of pathos, will be remembered when his lighter productions are forgotten, or have ceased to charm--it was TOM HOOD, we repeat, who described, in a characteristic poetical sketch, the miseries of an Englishman in the French capital, who was ignorant of the language of that self-styled "metropolis of the world." He drew a very amusing picture of the _desagremens_ such as one would be sure to encounter; and among others, the following

"Never go to France, Unless you know the lingo, If you _do_, like me, You'll repent, by Jingo!

"Signs I had to make, For every little notion; Arms all the while a-going, Like a telegraph in motion.

"If I wanted a horse, How d'you think I got it? I got astride my cane, And made-believe to trot it!"

There was something very ridiculous, he went on to say, we remember, about the half-English meaning of some of the words, and the utter contradiction of the ordinary meaning in others. "They call," said he,

"They call their mothers _mares_, And all their daughters _fillies_!"

and he cited several other words not less ludicrous. The celebrated Mrs. RAMSBOTTOM, and her accomplished daughter LAVINIA, the cockney continental travelers, those clever burlesques of "JOHN BULL," were the first, some thirty years ago, to take notice of this discrepancy, and to illustrate it in their correspondence. The old lady, writing from Paris to friends in her peculiar circle in London, tells them that she has been to see all the curious things about the French capital; and she especially extols the bridges, with their architectural and other adornments. "I went yesterday afternoon," she wrote, "to see the statute of Lewis Quinzy, standing close to the end of one of the _ponts_, as they call their bridges here. I was told by a man there, that Lewis Quinzy was buried there. Quinzy wasn't his real name, but he died of a quinzy sore-throat, and just as they do things here, they called him after the complaint he died of! The statute is a more superior one than the one of Henry Carter (Henri Quatre), which I also see, with my daughter Lavinia. I wonder if he was a relation of the Carters of Portsmouth, because if he is, his posteriors have greatly degenerated in size and figure. He is a noble-looking man, in stone." The same old ignoramus wrote letters from Italy, which were equally satirical upon the class of would-be "traveled" persons, to which she was assumed to belong.

Speaking of Rome, and certain of its wonderful and ancient structures, she says: "I have been all through the _Vacuum_, where the Pope keeps his bulls. Every once in a while they say he lets one out, and they occasion the greatest excitement, being more obstinater, if any thing, than an Irish one. I have been, too, to see the great church that was built by Saint PETER, and is called after him. Folks was a-looking and talking about a _knave_ that had got into it, but I didn't see no suspicionary person. I heard a _tedium_ sung while I was there, but it wasn't any great things, to _my_ taste. I'd rather hear Lavinia play the 'Battle of Prag.' It was very long and tiresome." Not a little unlike "Mrs. RAMSBOTTOM," is a foreign correspondent of the late Major NOAH'S paper, the "Times and Messenger," who writes under the _nom de plume_ of "A Disbanded Volunteer," from Paris. He complains that the French language is very "onhandy to articklate;" that the words wont "fit his mouth at all" and that he has to "bite off the ends of 'em," and even then they are cripples. "The grammer," he says, "is orful, specially the genders, and oncommon inconsistent. A pie is a _he_, and yet they call it PATTY, and a loaf is a _he_, too, but if you cut a slice off it, _that's_ a _she_! The pen I'm a-driving is a _she_, but the paper I'm a-writing on is a _he_! A thief," he goes on to say, "is masculine, but the halter that hangs him is feminine;" but he rather likes that, he adds, there being something consoling in being drawn up by a female noose! _F-e-m-m-e_, he contends, "_ought_ to spell _femmy_--but I'm blowed if they don't pronounce it _fam_!"

Like the English cockney travelers, he was pleased with the public monuments, particularly one in the "Plaster La Concord," built by LOUIS QUARTZ, so called, in consequence of the kind of stone used in its erection. The "Basalisk of Looksir," and the "Jargon da Plant," also greatly excited his admiration. No one who has ever studied French, but will be reminded by the "Disbanded Volunteer's" experience of the difficulty encountered in mastering the classification of French genders.

* * * * *

We find, on a scrap in our "Drawer," this passage from a learned lecture by a German adventurer in London, one "Baron VONDULLBRAINZ." He is illustrating the great glory of _Mechanics_, as a science: "De t'ing dat is _made_ is more superior dan de _maker_. I shall show you how in some t'ings. Suppose I make de round wheel of de coach? Ver' well; dat wheel roll five hundred mile!--and I can not roll one, myself! Suppose I am de cooper, what you call, and I make de big tub to hold de wine? He hold t'ons and gallons; and _I can not hold more as fives bottel_!! So you see dat de t'ing dat is made is more superior dan de maker!"

* * * * *

The following domestic medicines and recipes may be relied upon. They are handed down from a very ancient period; and, "no cure, no pay:"

"A stick of brimstone wore in the pocket is good for them as has cramps.

"A loadstone put on the place where the pain is, is beautiful in the rheumatiz.

"A basin of water-gruel, with half a quart of old rum in it, or a quart, if partic'lar bad, with lots o' brown sugar, going to bed, is good for a cold in the 'ead.

"If you've got the hiccups, pinch one o' your wrists, and hold your breath while you count sixty, or--_get somebody to scare you, and make you jump_!

"_The Ear-Ache_: Put an inyun in your ear, after it is well roasted!"

* * * * *

How old Dr. Johnson did hate Scotland! His severity of sarcasm upon that country is unexampled by his comments upon any thing else, however annoying. On his return from the Hebrides, he was asked by a Scottish gentleman, at an evening party in London, how he liked Scotland. "Scotland, sir?" replied Johnson, with a lowering brow, and savage expression generally, "Scotland? Scotland, sir, is a miserable country--a _contemptible_ country, sir!" "You can not do the ALMIGHTY the great wrong to say _that_, Dr. Johnson," answered the other, deeply nettled at so harsh a judgment: "GOD made Scotland, sir." "Yes, sir," was the cutting rejoinder: "GOD _did_ make Scotland, but He _made it for Scotchmen_! GOD made _hell_ also, sir!" On another occasion, when asked how he liked certain views of scenery in that country, he replied: "The finest and most satisfactory view in Scotland, sir, is the view looking _from_ it, on the high-road to London!" The same spirit was manifested in his reply to a friend, who was consoling him for the loss of a favorite cane with which he had traveled in the north of Scotland. "You can easily replace it, Dr. JOHNSON," said his friend. "_Replace_ it, sir! Consider, where I'm to find the _timber_ for such a purpose in this barren country!" It strikes us that a lack of trees or shrubbery could not be more forcibly exemplified than by this sarcastic reply.

* * * * *

Somebody, in one of the newspapers, has been telling a story of a schoolmistress, who had a hopeful boy-pupil, whose intelligence was scarcely "fair to middling," if one may judge from one of his "exercises" in spelling. "I got him," said the schoolmarm, "clean through the alphabet, and he would point out any letter, and call it by its right name. One bright Monday morning I put him, when he was sufficiently advanced, into words of two syllables; but I was obliged to tell him some fifty times what was the _nature_ of a syllable; and after all, his brain was opaque as a rock. In order to interest him, however, I said to him:

"Do you love pies?"

"Yes, marm, I guess I _do_!"

"Well, then, 'apple' and 'pie,' when put together, spell 'apple-pie,' don't they?"

"Yes, marm."

"By the same rule, 'la' and 'dy,' spell 'lady?' You understand _that_, don't you?"

"Very well. Now, what do 'mince' and 'pie' spell?"

"_I_ know!--_Mince_-Pie!"

"That's right: well, now what do 'pumpkin' and 'pie' spell? Speak up."

"I know _that_: that's _pumpkin_-pie!"

"That's correct. Now, what does 'la' and 'dy' spell?"

"CUSTARD-PIE!" exclaimed the urchin, with great exultation at his success.

Now, this is very good, and very possibly it may have occurred, precisely as narrated; but we have a suspicion--perhaps not a "_shrewd_ suspicion"--that the whole thing was borrowed from the following dialogue, which is indubitably an actual occurrence:

"James," said a schoolmaster to a dull pupil, after the morning chapter had been read in the school, "James, we have read this morning that Noah had three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japheth; now, James, will you tell us who was the _father_ of Shem, Ham, and Japheth?"

"_Sir?_" said James, inquiringly.

"Why, James," answered his colloquist, "you have seen that Noah had three sons, and that their names were Shem, Ham, and Japheth. These were Noah's _sons_, James. Now, who was the FATHER of Shem, Ham, and Japheth?"

"SIR?" said James, dubiously pondering the full extent of the query.

"Why, James," said the preceptor, "don't you _know_ who the father of Shem, Ham, and Japheth was, after I've told you so much?"

"No, sir--I d' know!"

"You are very dull, James--_very_! You know Mr. Smith, don't you, that lives next to your house?"

"Sartain!--Bill and Jo Smith and I play together. Bill took my cross-gun, and owes me--"

"Very well: Mr. Smith has three boys, William, Joseph, and Henry. Who is the father of William, Joseph, and Henry Smith?"

"Mr. Smith!" exclaimed James, instantly; "Mr. _Smith_: guess I know _that_!"

"Certainly, James. Very _well_, then. Now, this is exactly the same thing. You see, as we have been reading, that _Noah_ had three sons, like Mr. Smith; but _their_ names were Shem, Ham, and Japheth. Now, who was the father of _Noah's_ three sons?"

James hesitated a minute, with his finger in his mouth; and then, as if the difficult question had been suddenly solved in his mind, he exclaimed:

"_I_ know now: MR. SMITH!"

* * * * *

Perhaps some of our readers have heard of that rare compound of all that was quaint, curious, and ridiculous, Lord Timothy Dexter, of Newburyport, Massachusetts. He was an ignorant, eccentric old fellow, who, having made himself a rich man, conceived the original idea of setting up for a lord. Accordingly he proclaimed himself "_Lord Timothy Dexter_," bought a magnificent mansion, and set up an equipage in splendid style. Every thing that he did and every thing he had about him was original. He sent a ship-load of warming-pans to the East Indies; he filled his gardens with sprawling wooden statues; his dress was a mixture of the Roman senator and a Yankee militia-captain; the ornaments of his mansion were of the most unique stamp; and his literary compositions were more original than all the rest put together. He wrote in the most heroic disregard and defiance of the common laws of etymology and syntax. Here is a specimen of his style, and an illustration of his powers as a philosopher: "How great the SOUL is! Don't you all wonder and admire to see and behold and hear? Can you all believe half the truth, and admire to hear the wonders how great the soul is?--that if a man is drowned in the water, a great bubble comes up out of the top of the water--the last of the man dying in the water; this is _mind_--the SOUL, that is the last to ascend out of the deep to glory. Only behold!--past finding out! The bubble is the soul! When a man dies in his bed in a house, you can't see his soul go up, but when he is drowned, _then_ you can see his soul go up like a kite or a rocket!"

* * * * *

There is a very amusing story told of a curious fowl called "_The Adjutant_," in the East Indies. They are as solemn-faced a creature as the owl, the "Bird of Minerva." Sometimes they become great favorites with the soldiers and officers of the army stationed there, and numerous, and not unfrequently ridiculous, were the tricks which the wicked wags played upon them. Sometimes the soldiers would take a couple of half-picked beef-bones, tie them strongly together, at each end of a stout cord, and then throw both where some two or three "Adjutants" would be sure to try to rival each other in the first possession of the desiderated luxury; the consequence of which competition would be, that two of the ravenous birds would attack the treasure at one and the same time: the one would swallow one (for they have most capacious maws) and the other the other. Then there was trouble! Each saw before him a divided "duty," the "line" of which, while it was sufficiently defined (and _con_-fined) was very far from being convenient to follow, so far as the _practice_ was concerned. But each, in the consequent struggle, rose into the air; a pair of aerial Siamese-twins, with no power of severing their common ligament; so that very soon down they came, an easy prey to their ingenious tormentors. But the funniest trick was this: A soldier would take a similar unconsumed beef-bone; carefully scoop out a long cavity in it, establish therein a cartridge and fusee, with a long leader, lighted, and then throw it out for the especial benefit of the feathered victim. It was of course swallowed at once, and then, like a snake with a big frog in its belly, the uncouth bird would mount upon some post, or other similar eminence, and with one leg crossed like a figure-four, over the other, it would stand, in digestive mood, and with solemn visage, until suddenly the secret mine would explode, and the unsuspicious "Adjutant" would be "reduced to the ranks" of birds "lost upon earth."

* * * * *

He was a right sensible man who wrote as follows; and his theory and advice will apply as well in Gotham as elsewhere: "As to extensive dinner-giving, we can be but hungry, eat, and be happy. I would have a great deal more hospitality practiced among us than is at all common; more _hospitality_, I mean, and less _show_. Properly considered, 'the quality of dinner,' like that of mercy, 'is twice blessed--it blesses him that gives, and him that takes.' A dinner with friendliness is the best of all friendly meetings; a pompous entertainment, where 'no love is,' is the least satisfactory.

"I own myself to being no worse nor better than my neighbors, in giving foolish and expensive dinners. I rush off to the confectioner's for sweets, et cetera; hire sham butlers and attendants; have a fellow going round the table with 'still' and 'dry' champagne, just as if I _knew his name_, and it was my custom to drink those wines every day of my life. Now if we receive great men or ladies at our house, I will lay a wager that they will select mutton and gooseberry-tart for their dinner; forsaking altogether the '_entrees_' which the men in white gloves are handing round in the plated dishes. Asking those who have great establishments of their own to French dinners and delicacies, is like inviting a grocer to a meal of figs, or a pastry-cook to a banquet of raspberry tarts. They have had enough of them. Great folks, if they like you, take no account of your feasts, and grand preparations. No; they eat mutton, like men."

As to giving _large_ dinners, morever, Mr. BROWN reasons like a philosopher. In the right way of giving a dinner, he contends, "every man who now gives _one_ dinner might give two, and take in a host of friends and relations," who are now excluded from his forced hospitality. "Our custom," he says "is not hospitality nor pleasure, but to be able to cut off a certain number of our really best acquaintances from our dining-list." Again, these large, ostentatious dinners are scarcely ever pleasant, so far as regards society: "You may chance to get near a pleasant neighbor and neighboress, when your corner of the table is possibly comfortable. But there can be no general conversation. Twenty people around one board can not engage together in talk. You want even a speaking-trumpet to communicate from your place with the lady of the house." The sensible conclusion of the whole matter is: "I would recommend, with all my power, that if we give dinners they should be more simple, more frequent, and contain fewer persons. A man and woman may look as if they were really glad to see _ten_ people; but in a 'great dinner,' an ostentatious dinner, they abdicate their position as host and hostess, and are mere creatures in the hands of the sham butlers, sham footmen, and tall confectioner's emissaries who crowd the room, and are guests at their own table, where they are helped last, and of which they occupy the top and bottom. I have marked many a lady watching with timid glances the large artificial major-domo who officiates 'for that night only,' and thought to myself, 'Ah, my dear madam, how much happier might we all be, if there were but half the splendor, half the made-dishes, and half the company assembled!'"

* * * * *

To our conception there is something rather tickling to the fancy in the following sage advice as to how to conduct one's self in case of fire: "Whatever may be the heat of the moment, keep cool. Let nothing put you out, but find something to put out the fire. Keep yourself collected, and then collect your family. After putting on your shoes and stockings, call out for pumps and hose to the fireman. Don't think about saving your watch and rings, for while you stand wringing your hands, you may be neglecting the turn-cock, who is a jewel of the first water at such a moment. Bid him with all your might turn on the main!"

* * * * *

Punch once drew an admirable picture of a London "Peter Funk," a sort of character not altogether unknown in the metropolis of the western world:

"The amount that prodigal man must spend every year would drive ROTHSCHILD into the work-house. Nothing is too good or too common, too expensive or too cheap, for him. One moment he will buy a silver candelabra, the next a silver thimble. In the morning he will add a hundred-guinea dressing-case to his enormous property, and in the afternoon amuse himself by bidding a shilling for a little trumpery pen-knife. Why he must have somewhere about fifty thousand pen-knives already.

"The article he has the greatest hankering for, are razors: and yet, to look at his unshorn beard, you would fancy that he never shaved from one month's end to another. The hairs stick out on his chin like the wires on the drum of a musical-box. It is most amusing to watch him when the razors are handed round. He will snatch one off the tray, draw the edge across his nail, breathe upon it, then hold it up to the light, and after wiping it in the gentlest manner upon the cuff of his coat, bid for it as ravenously as if he would not lose the scarce article for all the wealth of the Indies. What he does with all the articles he buys we can not tell. Saint Paul's would not be large enough to contain all the rubbish he has been accumulating these last ten years. His collection of side-boards alone would fill Hyde-Park, and he must possess by this time more dumb waiters than there are real waiters in England."

* * * * *

A capital burlesque upon the prevalent affectation of popular song-writers, in making their first line tell as a title, is given in the following: such, for example, as "_When my Eye_," "_I dare not use thy cherished Name_," and so forth:

"Oh! don't I love you rather still? Are all my pledges set at naught? Dishonored is Affection's bill? Or passed is Love's Insolvent Court? Is Memory's schedule coldly filed, On one of Cupid's broken darts? Is Hymen's balance-sheet compiled, A bankrupt's stock of damaged hearts?

"SECOND VERSE.

"I dare not use thy cherished name, Would'st thou accept, were I to draw? The god of Love may take his aim, But with an arrow made of straw Each fonder feeling that I knew A lifeless heap of ruin lies: Yes, false one! ticketed by you: Look here!--'Alarming Sacrifice!'"

* * * * *

We must say one thing in favor of JOHN BULL. He confesses to a _beat_ with great unanimity and frankness. It is in evidence, on the authority of the three gentlemen interested in the race of the yacht _America_, that the triumph of American skill in ship-architecture was most candidly admitted on all hands, as it was in all the public journals most handsomely. This is as it should be; and we were glad to see, that at the recent dinner given to Mr. STEVENS at the Astor-House cordial and ample acknowledgments, for courtesies and attentions from the QUEEN herself, down to the most eminent members of the Royal Yacht Squadron, were feelingly and appropriate rendered.

Literary Notices.

_A Book of Romances_, _Lyrics_, _and Songs_, by BAYARD TAYLOR. This volume consists chiefly of pieces which have not before been given to the public, and are evidently selected with great severity of taste from the miscellaneous productions of the writer. This was a highly judicious course, and will be friendly, in all respects, to the fame of Bayard Taylor, whose principal danger as a poet is his too great facility of execution. The pieces in this volume exhibit the marks of careful elaboration; of conscientious artistic finish; of a lofty standard of composition; and of the intellectual self-respect which is not content with a performance inferior to the highest. They are profuse in bold, poetic imagery; often expressing conceptions of exquisite delicacy and pathos; and, pervaded by a spirit of classic refinement. Mr. Taylor's merits as a descriptive poet of a high order have long been recognized; the present volume will confirm his beautiful reputation in that respect; while it shows a freer and nobler sweep of the imagination and reflective faculties than he has hitherto exercised. (Boston: Ticknor, Reed, and Fields.)

Phillips, Sampson, and Co., Boston, have published a revised edition of _Margaret, a Tale of the Real and the Ideal_, in two volumes. The edition is introduced with a characteristic preface by the author, explaining his own conception of the drift of the work, and justifying certain features which have been severely commented on by critics. In spite of its numerous displays of eccentricity and waywardness, we believe that "Margaret" possesses the elements of an enduring vitality. Its quaint and expressive delineations of New-England life, its vivid reproduction of natural scenery, and the freedom and boldness with which its principal characters are sustained, will always command a certain degree of sympathy, even from those who are the most impatient with the reckless mannerisms of the writer. His genius is sufficient to atone for a multitude of faults, and there is need enough for its exercise in this respect, in the present volumes.

A new edition, greatly improved and enlarged, of ABBOTT'S _Young Christian_, has been published by Harper and Brothers, and will speedily be followed by the other volumes of the series, _The Corner Stone_ and _The Way to Do Good_. It is superfluous to speak of the rare merits of Mr. Abbott's writings on the subject of practical religion. Their extensive circulation, not only in our own country, but in England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Germany, Holland, India, and at various missionary stations throughout the globe, evinces the excellence of their plan, and the felicity with which it has been executed. Divesting religion of its repulsive, scholastic garb, they address the common mind in simple and impressive language. Every where breathing an elevated tone of sentiment, they exhibit the practical aspects of religious truth, in a manner adapted to win the heart, and to exercise a permanent influence upon the character. In unfolding the different topics which he takes in hand, Mr. Abbott reasons clearly, concisely, and to the point; but the severity of argument is always relieved by a singular variety and beauty of illustration. It is this admirable combination of discussion with incident, that invests his writings with an almost equal charm for readers of every diversity of age and of culture. While the young acknowledge the fascination of his attractive pages, the most mature minds find them full of suggestion, and often presenting an original view of familiar truth.--The present edition is issued in a style of uncommon neatness, and is illustrated with numerous engravings, most of which are spirited and beautiful.

_Episodes of Insect Life_, Third Series, published by J.S. Redfield, is brought to a close in the volume before us, which treats of the insects of autumn and the early winter. We take leave of these beautiful studies in nature with regret, though rejoicing in the eminent success which has attended their publication, both in England and in our own country. They have entered largely into the rural delights of many a family circle, during the past season, and will long continue to perform the same congenial ministry.

George P. Putnam has issued the first number of _A Biographical and Critical Dictionary of Painters, Engravers, Sculptors, and Architects_, by S. SPOONER, M.D., compiled from a variety of authentic sources, and containing more than fifteen hundred names of eminent artists, which are not to be found in the existing English dictionaries of Art. Free use has been made of the best European authorities, and a mass of information concentrated which we should look for in vain in any other single work. The editor appears to have engaged in his task, not only with conscientious diligence, but with an enthusiastic interest in Art, and with such qualifications, his success in its performance is almost a matter of course.

The third volume of _The Memoirs of Dr. Chalmers_ (published by Harper and Brothers), embraces the period of his life during his residence at Aberdeen, and a portion of his career as Professor at Edinburgh. The interest of the previous volumes is well sustained in the present. It contains many original anecdotes, illustrating the private and social life of Dr. Chalmers, as well as a succinct narrative of the events in which he bore a conspicuous part before the public. Every incident in the biography of this admirable man is a new proof of his indomitable energy of character, his comprehensive breadth of intellect, and the mingled gentleness and fervor of his disposition. Whoever wishes to see a strong, compact, massive specimen of human nature, softened and harmonized by congenial religious and domestic influences, should not fail to become acquainted with these rich and instructive volumes.

_The Bible in the Family_, by H.A. BOARDMAN (published by Lippincott, Grambo, and Co.), is a series of discourses treating of the domestic relations, as the chief sources of personal and social welfare, and illustrating the importance of the principles of the Bible to the happiness of the family. They were delivered to the congregation of the author, in the regular course of his pastoral ministrations, and without aiming at a high degree of exactness of thought, or literary finish, are plain, forcible, and impressive addresses on topics of vital moment. Their illustrations are drawn from every-day life, and are often striking as well as pertinent. An occasional vein of satire in their descriptions of society, is introduced with good effect, tempering the prevailing honeyed suavity of discussion, which, without a corrective, would be apt to cloy.

Lippincott, Grambo, and Co. have republished _The Scalp Hunters_, by Capt. MAYNE REID, a record of wild and incredible adventures among the trappers and savages of New Mexico. It is written in an incoherent, slap-dash style, in which the want of real descriptive strength is supplied by the frequent use of interjectional phrases. The scenes, for the most part, consist of pictures of city brawls and forest fights, with an excess of blood and thunder sufficient to satiate the most sanguinary appetite.

_The Human Body and its Connection with Man_, by JAMES JOHN GARTH WILKINSON, is the transcendental title of a treatise by an original and vigorous English writer, in which the theories of Swedenborg are applied to the illustration of human physiology. Profoundly mystical in its general character, and thoroughly repellent to those who make the length of their own fingers the measure of the universe, it abounds in passages of admirable eloquence, presenting a piquant stimulus to the imagination, even when it fails to satisfy the intellect. Its rhetoric will be attractive to many readers who take no interest in its anatomy.

_Ladies of the Covenant_, by Rev. JAMES ANDERSON, under an odd apposition of terms in the title, conceals a work of more than common merit. Why could not the author use the good Saxon word "women" in designating those heroic spirits who shed their blood for their religion in the era of the Scottish Covenant? We shall next hear of the noble army of "lady martyrs," of the "holy ladies of old," and other fantastic phrases engendered by a squeamish taste. With this exception, the volume is worthy of the highest commendation. It shows the horrors of political persecution, and the beauty of religious faith, in a succession of forcible and touching narratives. (Published by J.S. Redfield).

_Alban, a Tale of the New World_, is a novel combining an unctuous melange of sensual description and religious discussion, by an enthusiastic neophyte of the Roman Catholic Church. It has some lively pictures of modern Puritanic character in New-England villages, which are a grateful relief to its pervading tone of speculative voluptuousness. (Published by George P. Putnam.)

_The Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World_, by E.S. CREASY (published by Harper and Brothers). The key to this volume is contained in the following passage of the author's preface: "There are some battles which claim our attention, independently of the moral worth of the combatants, on account of their enduring importance, and by reason of the practical influence on our own social and political condition, which we can trace up to the results of those engagements. They have for us an abiding and actual interest, both while we investigate the chain of causes and effects by which they have helped to make us what we are, and also while we speculate on what we probably should have been, if any one of those battles had come to a different termination." The hint of his work, was first suggested to the author, by the remark of Mr. Hallam on the victory gained by Charles Martel, between Tours and Poictiers, over the invading Saracens, that "it may justly be reckoned among those few battles of which a contrary event would have essentially varied the drama of the world in all its subsequent scenes; with Marathon, Arbela, the Metaurus, Chalons, and Leipsic." The idea, presented in this form, is developed with great ingenuity by the author, in its application to the most significant battles in history, from Marathon to Waterloo. Abstaining from merely theoretical speculations, he exhibits a profound insight into the operation of political causes, which he unfolds with great sagacity, and in a manner suited to enchain the attention of the reader. Among the decisive battles embraced in his work, those of Marathon, of Arbela, of Hastings, of the Spanish Armada, of Blenheim, of Saratoga, and of Waterloo, are described with picturesque felicity, and their consequences to the fortunes of the civilized world are traced out in the genuine spirit of a sound philosophical historian. His observations, connected with the battle of Saratoga, in regard to the position of America in modern history, are just and impartial. "The fourth great power of the world is the mighty commonwealth of the Western Continent, which now commands the admiration of mankind. That homage is sometimes reluctantly given, and is sometimes accompanied with suspicion and ill-will But none can refuse it. All the physical essentials for national strength are undeniably to be found in the geographical position and amplitude of territory which the United States possess; in their almost inexhaustible tracts of fertile but hitherto untouched soil, in their stately forests, in their mountain chains and their rivers, their beds of coal, and stores of metallic wealth, in their extensive sea-board along the waters of two oceans, and in their already numerous and rapidly-increasing population. And when we examine the character of this population, no one can look on the fearless energy, the sturdy determination, the aptitude for local self-government, the versatile alacrity, and the unresisting spirit of enterprise which characterize the Anglo-Americans, without feeling that here he beholds the true elements of progressive might."

The Second Volume of Miss STRICKLAND'S _Queens of Scotland_ (published by Harper and Brothers), completes the Life of Mary of Lorraine, and contains that of Lady Margaret Douglas. It is marked by the careful research and animated style which have given the author such an enviable reputation as an authentic and pleasing historical guide.

_The Lily and the Bee_, by SAMUEL WARREN (published by Harper and Brothers), is a reprint of a rhapsodical prose-poem, suggested by the strange and beautiful spectacle of the Crystal Palace. The author has selected a wild and incoherent form for the embodiment of his impressions, but it is pervaded by a vein of rich, imaginative thought, which no one can follow without being touched with its spirit of suggestive musing. Whoever peruses this volume, as the writer intimates, should suspend his judgment until the completion, and then both the Lily and the Bee may be found speaking with some significance.

MAYHEW'S _London Labor_ (published by Harper and Brothers) has reached its Fourteenth Number, and fully sustains the interest of the earlier portions of the work. It is a faithful sketch of one aspect of London life, drawn from nature, and in graphic effect is hardly inferior to the high-wrought creations of fiction.

The Eighteenth Part of LOSSING's _Pictorial Field-Book of the Revolution_ (published by Harper and Brothers), is now completed, and the successive parts will be issued rapidly until the work is closed. This noble tribute to the memory of our revolutionary fathers has been kindly and cordially received by the American people. We rejoice in its success, for the spirit of patriotism which it breathes is as wholesome, as the execution of its charming pictures is admirable.

_Malmiztic the Toltec_, by W.W. FOSDICK (Cincinnati, Wm. H. Moore and Co.), is a romance of Mexico, reproducing the times of Montezuma and Cortez. In spite of the desperate cacophony of the title, and the high-flown magnificence of the preface, it is a work of considerable originality and power. The style of the author would be improved by an unrelenting application of the pruning-knife, but he shows a talent of description and narrative, which, after abating the luxuriance of a first effort, might be turned to excellent account. We hope to hear from him again.

_The Mind and the Heart_, by FRANKLIN W. FISH, is the title of a little volume in verse by a very youthful poet, written before the completion of his eighteenth year. We utterly disapprove the publication of such precocious efforts, as they have no interest for the reader but that of a literary curiosity, and none but a perilous reflex influence on the unfledged author. These effusions, however, are highly creditable specimens of the kind, and show a facility of versification and a command of poetic thought and imagery, which give a fair promise of future excellence. We will not subject them to a harsh criticism, which they certainly do not deserve, but we advise the young aspirant to cling to the pen in private, and for the present to cherish a profound horror of printing ink. (Adriance, Sherman, and Co.)

* * * * *

A new translation of DANTE'S _Divina Commedia_ has recently been made in England by C.B. Cayley. The volume published, containing the "Inferno," is to be followed by the "Purgatorio" and "Paradiso." The metre of the original is preserved. A London journal says that "it is by far the most effectual transcript of the original that has yet appeared in English verse: in other words, the nearest approximation hitherto made to what the poet, such as we know him, might have written had he been of our time and country, instead of being a Tuscan in the thirteenth century. To have done this office with tolerable success for any great poet is a claim to praise: in a translator of Dante it is something more. Mr. Cayley's one main ground of superiority to previous translators lies in the true perception that nothing but plain and bold language in the copy can represent the bold plainness of the original. He has accordingly handled our whole vocabulary with unusual frankness; and we admire his skill in pressing apt though uncouth forms into the service, as much as we approve of the right feeling that taught him how Dante may be most nearly approached."

* * * * *

_The Hymn for All Nations_, 1851, by M.F. TUPPER, D.C.L., says _The Athenaeum_ "is at least a philological and typographical curiosity. The hymn--'would it were worthier!'--is translated into thirty different languages, and printed in the characters of each country."

* * * * *

THOMAS COOPER, a well-known English Chartist, distinguished by the inviting _prestige_, "Author of the 'Purgatory of Suicides,'" advertises to deliver his orations on the genius of all men, from Shakspeare to George Fox the Quaker, Milton to Mohammed, and on many subjects from astronomy to civil war, at the low charge of (to working men) two pounds per speech, or at thirty shillings each for a quantity.

* * * * *

THACKERAY is writing a novel in three volumes, to be published in the winter. The scene is in England early in the eighteenth century, and the stage will be crossed by many of the illustrious actors of that time--such as Bolingbroke, Swift, and Pope; and Dick Steele will play a prominent part.

"There is more than a bit of gossip," says _The Leader_ "in the foregoing paragraph. It intimates that THACKERAY has 'risen above the mist;' he will no more be hampered and seduced by the obstacles and temptations coextensive with the fragmentary composition of monthly parts. It intimates that he has the noble ambition of producing a work of art. It also intimates that he has bidden adieu, for the present, to Gaunt-house, the Clubs, Pall-mall, and May-fair--to forms of life which are so vividly, so wondrously reproduced in his pages, that detractors have asserted he could paint nothing else--forgetting that creative power to _that_ degree can not be restricted to one form. His _Lectures_ have prepared us for a very vivid and a very charming picture of the Eighteenth Century."

* * * * *

The MASTER of the ROLLS has given a favorable answer to the memorial presented to him by Lord Mahon and various literary men, praying for the admission of historical writers to the free use of the records. On this, the _London Examiner_ remarks, "There is a point of view in which this matter is most important. The concession throws a vast amount of new responsibility upon literary men. Henceforth the guess-work, the mere romance-writing, which we have been too long accustomed to suppose to be history, will be without excuse. Writers who neglect to take advantage of record-evidence on all subjects to which it is applicable, will lay themselves open to the sharpest and justest critical censure. Our history may now be put upon the strong foundation, not of borrowed evidence, but of the records themselves. If literary men neglect this opportunity, the Government will be no longer to blame. The Master of the Rolls has cleared his conscience, and that of the State. But we have no fear that such will be the result. Wise and liberal concession, like that of the Master of the Rolls, must tell with honorable effect both upon our literary men and upon our national character."

* * * * *

The following ludicrous remarks, are from an article in the _London Spectator_ on Parkman's _History of Pontiac_. They are a specimen of what a certain class of English writers call criticism. The obtuseness of John Bull can no farther go.

"It is remarked by travelers, that however individual Americans may differ--as the observing shepherd can detect physiognomical differences in his flock--there is a general resemblance throughout the Union in lathy lankiness, in haste, in tobacco-chewing, in dress, in manners or (as Scott expressed it) 'no manners.' The remark may be truly applied to American books. Poetry and travels with hardly an exception, historical novels and tales without any exception, and works on or about history, have a certain family likeness. As one star differs from another in brightness, and yet they are all stars, so one American writer on history differs from another in point of merit, yet their kind of merit is alike. Washington Irving's mode of composition is the type of them all, and consists in making the most of things. The landscape is described, not to possess the reader with the features of the country so far as they are essential to the due apprehension of the historical event, but as a thing important in itself, and sometimes as a thing adapted to show off the writing or the writer. The costumes are not only indicated, to remind the reader of the various people engaged, but dwelt upon with the unction of a virtuoso. The march is narrated in detail; the accessories are described in their minutiae; and the probable or possible feelings of the actors are laid before the reader. Sometimes this mode of composition is used sparingly and chastely, as by Bancroft; sometimes more fully, as by Theodore Irving in his _Conquest of Florida_; other styles (in the sense of _expressing_ ideas) than the model may also preponderate, so as to suggest no idea of the author of the _Sketch Book_ and the _Conquest of Granada_; but, more or less, the literary sketcher or tale-writer has encroached upon the province of the historian."

The London journals announce that _Carlyle's Memoirs_ of JOHN STIRLING will be issued immediately.

* * * * *

The _Leader_ announces the certainty of an abridged translation of AUGUSTE COMTE'S six volumes of _Positive Philosophy_ appearing as soon as is compatible with the exigencies of so important an undertaking. A very competent mind has long been engaged upon the task; and the growing desire in the public to hear more about this BACON of the nineteenth century, remarks the _Leader_, renders such a publication necessary.

* * * * *

At a recent meeting of the Royal Society of Literature in London, a communication was made from the celebrated antiquarian explorer, Mr. LAYARD, of the progress and results of his recent investigations at Nimroud; from which it was evident that the public is justified in forming high expectations of the advance which it will be enabled to make in the knowledge of Assyrian history and antiquities, in consequence of his further indefatigable labors. The new objects of antiquity exhumed will throw light on the state of the arts, the chronology, the origin of the Egyptian influence, and other facts relating to this the most ancient empire of the world.

* * * * *

A tablet in memory of the late WILLIAM WORDSWORTH has just been fixed in Grasmere church, executed by Mr. Thomas Woolner. The inscription is from the pen of Professor Keble.

* * * * *

Dr. ACHILLI has intimated at one of the meetings of the Evangelical Alliance, that he intends to prosecute Dr. Newman for libel at the commencement of next term.

* * * * *

MAZZINI'S little work, _The Pope in the Nineteenth Century_, which made considerable sensation, when it appeared in French, has been translated into English, and is now published as a pamphlet.

* * * * *

French literature is beginning to show some activity. THIERS issues the eleventh volume of his _History of the Consulate and the Empire_; instead of the ten volumes originally proposed, the work is to extend to fourteen--an extension for which few will be grateful!

* * * * *

ADOLPHE GRANIER DE CASSAGNAC, the lively, impertinent, paradoxical journalist, is writing a _Histoire du Directoire_ in his own paper, and the Brussels edition of volume I. is already published. It is full of sarcasms and declamations against the Republican party and their great leaders; but it is sprightly, amusing, and has something of novelty in its tone: after so much wearisome laudation of every body in the Revolution, a spirited, reckless, and dashing onslaught makes the old subject piquant.

* * * * *

This is verily the age of cheapness. GEORGE SAND has consented to allow all her novels to be reprinted in Paris, for the small charge of four _sous_, a shade less than twopence, per part, which will make, it appears, about 1_l._ for the whole collection. This popular edition is to be profusely illustrated by eminent artists, and is to be printed and got up in good style.

* * * * *

During the last year or two an immense deal of business has been done by three or four publishing houses, in the production of esteemed works at four sous the sheet, of close yet legible type, excellent paper, and spirited illustrations. By this plan, the humblest working-man and the poorest _grisette_ have been able to form a very respectable library. Naturally the works so brought out have been chiefly of the class of light literature, but not a few are of a graver character. Among the authors whose complete works have been published, are Lesage, Chateaubriand, Anquetil (the historian), Balzac, Sue, Paul de Kock; among those partially published, Rousseau, Lamennais, Voltaire, Diderot, Fenelon, Bernardin de Saint Pierre. Translations of foreign works have also been produced; in the batch are, complete or partial, Goldsmith, Sterne, Anne Radcliffe, Mrs. Inchbald, Walter Scott, Fenimore Cooper, Bulwer, Dickens, Marryatt, Goethe, Schiller, Silvio Pellico; and Boccacio.

* * * * *

An eminent critic has just revealed a fact which very few people knew--viz. that ST. JUST, one of the most terrible of the terrible heroes of the first French Revolution, wrote and published, before he gained his sanguinary celebrity, a long poem, entitled, "Orgaut." The opinion which M. Thiers and other historians have caused the public to form of this man was, that he was a fanatic--implacable, but sincere--a ruthless minister of the guillotine; but deeming wholesale slaughter indispensable for securing, what he conscientiously considered, the welfare of the people. He was, we may imagine, something like the gloomy inquisitors of old, who thought it was doing God service to burn heretics at the stake. To justify this opinion, one would have expected to have found in a poem written by him when the warm and generous sentiments of youth were in all their freshness, burning aspirations for what it was the fashion of his time to call _vertu_, and lavish protestations of devotedness to his country and the people. But instead of that, the work is, it appears, from beginning to end, full of the grossest obscenity--it is the delirium of a brain maddened with voluptuousness--it is coarser and more abominable than the "Pucelle" of Voltaire, and is not relieved, as that is, by sparkling wit and graces of style. In a moral point of view, it is atrocious--in a literary point of view, wretched.

* * * * *

Of a political writer, who, for the last year or two, has made some noise in the world, the all-destructive PROUDHON, a sharp English critic keenly enough observes: "After Comte there is no one in France to compare with Proudhon for power, originality, daring, and coherence. His name is a name of terror. He is of no party, no sect. Like Ishmael, his hand is raised against every one, and his blows are crushing. In some respects he reminds us of Carlyle there is the same relentless scorn for his adversaries, the same vehement indignation against error, the same domineering personality, the same preference for crude energy of statement, the same power of sarcasm; but there is none of the abounding _poetry_ which is in Carlyle, none of the true genius; and there is an excess of dialectics such as Carlyle would turn aside from. If Carlyle is the Prophet of Democracy, Proudhon is its Logician and Economist. Proudhon loves to startle. It suits his own vehement, combative nature. We do not think he does it from calculation so much as from instinct; he does not fire a musket in the air that its noise may call attention to him, but from sheer sympathy with musket shots. Whatever may be the motive, the result is unquestionable: attention _is_ attracted and fixed."

* * * * *

A French writer, M. LEON DE MONTBEILLARD, has just published a work on SPINOZA, calling in question the logical powers of that "thorny" reasoner on inscrutable problems. The _London Leader_ disposes of it in a summary manner: "If Spinoza has one characteristic more eminent than another, it is commonly supposed to be the geometric precision and exactitude of his logical demonstrations. To say that Spinoza was a rigorous logician is like saying that Shakspeare was dramatic, and Milton imaginative--a platitude unworthy of an original mind, a truism beneath notice. M. Montbeillard declines to walk in such a beaten path. He denies Spinoza's logical merit. Spinoza a logician; _fi donc_! Read this treatise and learn better. What all the world has hitherto supposed to be severe deductive logic, only to be escaped by a refusal to accept the premises, is here shown to be nothing but a pedantic array of pretended axioms and theorems, which are attacked and overturned by this adventurous author _avec une assez grande facilite_. We have not seen the work, but we have not a doubt of the _facility_!"

* * * * *

In a letter to the newspapers, ALEXANDRE DUMAS complains that a publisher, who has got possession of a manuscript history of Louis Philippe, written by him, intends to bring it out under a title insulting to the exiled royal family--"Mysteries of the Orleans Family," or something of that kind. The proceeding would certainly be scandalously unjust to the author; but doubts are raised whether he can obtain any legal redress. The manuscript is the publisher's, paid for with his money, purchased by him, not from Dumas himself, but from another _editeur_ to whom Dumas ceded it. It is, therefore, to all intents and purposes, merchandise in the eyes of the owner; and, as in the case of any other merchandise, it is contended that he may sell it under any title he pleases that does not absolutely misrepresent its character.

* * * * *

EUGENE SUE has commenced the publication of another of his lengthy romances in one of the daily papers, and has also begun the printing of a comedy, in six acts, in another journal. The quantity of matter which popular romancers in France manage to produce is really extraordinarily great. They think nothing of writing three or four columns of newspaper type in a day, and that day after day, for months at a time. The most active journalists certainly, on an average, do not knock off any thing like that quantity; and yet what _they_ produce requires (or at least obtains) little or no thought--no previous study--is not part of a regular plan--and is not expected to display much originality of conception, or much grace of style.

* * * * *

The success of BALZAC'S comedy has caused the playwrights to turn their attention to his novels, and it is probable that in the course of the next few months we shall see one and all dramatized. Full as Balzac's novels are of forcibly drawn personages and striking incidents, competent critics doubt whether they will suit the stage; for their great charm and their great merit consists in minute analyzation, which is impracticable in the theatre. He was an admirable miniaturist, a laborious anatomist, and a complete master of detail--qualities with which the acted drama has naught to do.

* * * * *

EUGENE SUE offers us a new novel, _L' Avarice_, the last of his series on the seven cardinal sins, in one volume.

* * * * *

The two volumes of DE MAISTRE'S letters and inedited trifles, _Lettres et Opuscules inedits_, with a biographical notice written by his son, will be very acceptable, not only to Catholics, but to all who can rise above differences of creed, and recognize the amazing power of this great writer. These volumes present him, _en deshabille_, and he is worthy knowing so.

* * * * *

JULES JANIN'S Letters on the Exhibition, reprinted in a neat volume in Paris as well as at London, have procured him the honor of a very complimentary autograph letter from Prince Albert. The popularity which Janin has contrived to gain, not only in his own country, but in Europe--and not only among the middle classes, those great patrons of literary men nowadays, but among royal and aristocratic personages also--this popularity is envied by scores of writers of far greater pretensions.

* * * * *

The French have a very common and most unjust practice--that of appropriating the authorship of works which they only translate. A complete edition of Fielding has appeared under the title "OEuvres de l'Abbe St. Romme," or some such name. Ducis has passed himself off as the _author_ of _Hamlet_ and _Macbeth_, and the other great plays of Shakspeare which he has dared to mutilate. There are half a dozen translations of "Paradise Lost," in which the name of some obscure varlet figures on the title-page, while that of Milton is not once mentioned. There are editions of the "Decline and Fall," by Monsieur So-and-so, without the slightest indication that the work is that of Gibbon; and Bulwer and Scott, and indeed all English authors of note, dead and living, have been pillaged in the same way. The German and Italian authors have suffered the same treatment from these literary wreckers.

* * * * *

An edition of BRENTANO'S works has been published in six volumes. As one of the most famous of the "Romantic School," Brentano is interesting to all students of German literature, and the present publication receives additional stimulus from the knowledge that Brentano, late in life, looked upon his works as "dangerous," if not "devilish," and destroyed all the copies he could lay hands on.

* * * * *

METTERNICH is writing a book, and that book is a _History of Austria_ during his own time! Unhappily this bit of gossip can only interest our grandchildren, as the prince inserts a clause in his will, which forbids the publication till sixty years after his death.

* * * * *

The inhabitants of Schaffhausen have been inaugurating a monument to the memory of the historian JOHN VON MULLER in that, his native town. The monument--which is the work of the Swiss sculptor Oechslein--is composed of a colossal marble bust of the historian--on a lofty granite pedestal, ornamented with a bas-relief, in marble, representing the Muse of History engaging Muller to write the great events of his country's story. Below, inscribed in characters of gold, is the following passage from one of Muller's own letters: "I have never been on the side of party--but always on that of truth and justice wherever I could recognize them."

* * * * *

John Bartlett, Cambridge, has in press the _Miscellaneous Writings_ of ANDREWS NORTON, in one volume, 8vo, including reviews, critiques, and essays on various subjects of literature and theology. It will be a work of considerable interest. The same publisher announces also Stockhardt's _Agricultural Chemistry_, to be published simultaneously with the German edition. A seventh edition of this author's _Principles of Chemistry_ has been published by Mr. Bartlett. In a letter to him, Dr. Stockhardt thus writes of the American reprint: "The style in which you have got up my 'Principles of Chemistry,' is worthy of the great land of freedom, whose adopted son you have made my work, and places the original quite in the shade. The translation, by Dr. Peirce, is likewise so faithful and correct, that any author would be highly gratified to find his thoughts and opinions rendered so perfectly in another language."

* * * * *

From the recent report of the Methodist Book Concern in New York, it appears that the sales for the last twelve months were more than $200,000, being an increase of $65,000 over the previous year, and exceeding all former years. The profits on the new Hymn Book were $47,561. The Christian Advocate and Journal has a circulation of from 25,000 to 29,000. The Missionary Advocate 20,000. The Sunday School Advocate 65,000, with a yearly sale of Sunday School books amounting to $5000. The Quarterly Review has 3000 subscribers.

* * * * *

The name of the popular author, W. GILMORE SIMMS, having been publicly mentioned in connection with the Presidency of the South Carolina College, the Charleston _Literary Gazette_ remarks, "We should rejoice greatly to see Mr. Simms in a position which, we think, would be so congenial to his tastes, and for which his whole career has eminently fitted him. The watchword of his life has been, 'Strive.' He has striven, manfully, daringly, nobly, _successfully_! He has raised himself to a position in the world of letters, scarcely a whit inferior to the noblest of our writers. The death of Cooper leaves him without a living American compeer in the realm of fiction, and we confidently predict that the next generation will pronounce him to have been the greatest American poet of this!"

* * * * *

From America, says the London "Household Narrative," we receive a well-written and animated history of the campaigns of the celebrated Indian chief, _Pontiac_, during his gallant "conspiracy" to expel the English colonists after the conquest of Canada. It is principally interesting for the picture it gives of the chief himself; and for a more favorable view of the plans, and of the sagacity which informed and shaped them, than Englishmen have been prepared for in the case of any chief of those tribes.

* * * * *

Mr. JAMES RICHARDSON, the enterprising African traveler, died on the 4th of March last, at a small village called Ungurutua, six days distant from Kouka, the capital of Bornou. Early in January, he and the companions of his mission, Drs. Barth and Overweg, arrived at the immense plain of Damergou, when, after remaining a few days, they separated, Dr. Barth proceeding to Kanu, Dr. Overweg to Guber, and Mr. Richardson taking the direct route to Kouka, by Zinder. There, it would seem, his strength began to give way, and before he had arrived twelve days distant from Kouka he became seriously ill, suffering much from the oppressive heat of the sun. Having reached a large town called Kangarrua, he halted for three days, and feeling himself rather refreshed he renewed his journey. After two days' more traveling, during which his weakness greatly increased, they arrived at the Waddy Mellaha. Leaving this place on the 3d of March, they reached in two hours the village of Ungurutua, when Mr. Richardson became so weak that he was unable to proceed. In the evening he took a little food and tried to sleep, but became very restless, and left his tent, supported by his servant. He then took some tea, and threw himself again on his bed, but did not sleep. His attendants having made some coffee, he asked for a cup, but had no strength to hold it. He repeated several times "I have no strength," and after having pronounced the name of his wife, sighed deeply, and expired without a struggle, about two hours after midnight.

* * * * *

Mr. WILLIAM NICOL, F.R.S.E., died in Edinburgh on the 2d inst., in his eighty-third year. Mr. Nicol commenced his career as assistant to the late Dr. Moyes, the eminent blind lecturer on natural philosophy. Dr. Moyes, at his death, bequeathed his apparatus to Mr. Nicol, who then lectured on the same subject as his predecessor. Mr. Nicol's contributions to the "Edinburgh Philosophical Journal" were various and valuable; the more important being his description of his successful repetition of Doebereiner's celebrated experiment of igniting spongy platina by a stream of cold hydrogen gas; also his method of preparing fossil woods for microscopic investigation, which led to his discovery of the structural difference between the arucarian and coniferous woods, by far the most important in fossil botany. But the most valuable contribution to physical science, and with which his name will ever be associated, was his invention of the single image prism of calcareous spar, known to the scientific world as Nicol's prism.

* * * * *

The London papers announce the death of Mr. B. P. GIBBON, the line engraver, deservedly celebrated for his many excellent engravings after the works of Sir Edwin Landseer. His death was occasioned by a sudden attack of English cholera. "He was well versed in the history of his art, and of a mild and gentlemanlike disposition of mind. One of his first works was a small engraving after Landseer's 'Traveled Monkey;' and the work on which he was last engaged--and which he has left scarcely half done--was an engraving after one of Mr. Webster's pictures. His inclinations in early life turned to the stage; but his true path was line engraving. In this he was distinguished rather for the delicacy of his touch and the close character of his work, than for breadth of effect and boldness in the laying in of lines."

* * * * *

The London papers record the death of JOHN KIDD, D.M. of Christchurch, Regius Professor of Medicine, Tomline's Praelector of Anatomy, Aldrichian Professor of Anatomy, and Radcliffe's Librarian. Dr. Kidd was highly esteemed and respected both in the University and city of Oxford, In 1822 Dr. Kidd succeeded Sir Christopher Pegge, Bart., in the office of Regius Professor of Medicine, to which is annexed Tomline's Praelectorship of Anatomy, and the Aldrichian Professorship of Anatomy, and in 1834 he succeeded Dr. Williams as Radcliffe's Librarian. The _Leader_ says, "Oxford has lost an ornament in losing Dr. Kidd, the Regius Professor of Medicine in the University, whose death we see recorded in the papers; and the public will remember him as the author of one of the most popular _Bridgewater Treatises_, a series of works intended to give orthodoxy the support of science, and which, by the very juxtaposition of religion and science, have greatly helped to bring their discordances into relief. Dr. Kidd was not a writer of such attainments in philosophy as to give any weight to his views; but his knowledge of facts was extensive, and his exposition popular in style. It may be worth remarking that the title of his book, _On the Adaptation of External Nature to the Physical Condition of Man_, is radically opposed to the most advanced views of physiology."

A Leaf from Punch.

Fashions for November.

This is the commencement season for social parties and public amusements. We present seasonable illustrations of fashionable costumes for dinner parties, balls, and the opera. The first figure in the above engraving represents an elegant

BALL DRESS.--Hair in short bandeaux, tied behind a la Grecque, with a wreath of bluebells; the flowers are small and arranged on a cord along the forehead; they increase in size and form tufts at the sides. The cord is continued behind and a second cord of flowers passes over the head, and blends with the flowers at the sides. The dress of white watered silk with a body and upper skirt of white silk net, festooned and embroidered in spots with silk. The spots are small. The opening of the body is heart-shape. The waist is pointed behind and before. The sleeves are silk net, puffed, and held up by a few bluebells. The body is trimmed with a double berthe, of silk net; a bouquet of bluebells is placed on the left, goes down from the waist _en cordon_, and forms another bouquet to hold up the left side of the skirt. On the right side it is held up by an isolated bouquet. This upper skirt is very full, and much longer behind than before. In the opening of the body and that formed by turning up the sleeves, a chemisette plaited very small, and edged with lace, is visible.

DINNER TOILET.--The second, or right hand figure, represents a graceful dinner toilet. _Fanchonnette_ cap made of English lace, which is disposed in two rows. The upper one is about four inches wide sewed on silk net, which forms the middle, the joining being covered by a narrow band of terry velvet, No. 1. The bottom is composed of the same elements, exactly in the shape of a _fanchon_, straight in front, pointed behind, with small barbes at the side. Under the row that covers the top of the head are loops of silk ribbon. The sides are trimmed with more of the same kind, that hang down the cheeks. Plain silk dress. The body is low and opens down to the point. The skirt, in front, is open the whole length. The edges of the body, sleeves, and front of the skirt are undulated, and the undulations are trimmed with a silk _ruche_, the sides of which are the same stuff as the dress, while the middle is of a different-colored silk. The sleeves, turned up at the bend of the arm, show under-sleeves composed of three waves of lace; the body and under-skirt are muslin, embroidered so as to show the embroidery at the openings. The skirt has five graduated openings. The bottom edge of the body is composed of a deep lace, arranged square.

OPERA DRESS.--Costumes for the opera are diversified and quite fanciful. Our illustration exhibits one of the most elegant and admired. Hair in short puffed bandeaux. The knot behind is composed of two plaits, and a third is brought round on the top of the head in front. Waistcoat of watered silk, opening heart-shape in front, sitting well to the shape of the breast and waist, ending in an open point at bottom, and hollowed over the hip about an inch and a half. The back of the waistcoat is tight. It buttons straight down in front, the left side lapping over a little on the right, like a gentleman's waistcoat; it has one row of small buttons. The edge of the waistcoat has a narrow silk binding lapped over the edge, and all round run five rows of braid, one-tenth of an inch wide, at intervals of about one-fifth of an inch. Jaconet skirt, ornamented in front with six English bands one above the other; the first 3 inches long, the second 5, the third 6-1/2, the fourth 8, the fifth 9-1/2, and the sixth 12 inches. Each of these bands falls over the gathering of the other, the last covering the top of the flounce which runs round the skirt. The flounce is 16 inches deep, and the width of the bands, beginning with the top one is 2, 2-3/4, 3-1/2, 4-1/4, 5, and 5-3/4 inches. The white sleeves which come below those of the _soutanelle_ (cassock) have two rows of embroidery. The _soutanelle_ is made of silk, and lined with a different color; it has a hood, the inside of which is like the lining; it forms a pelerine, and ends square in front. The _soutanelle_ is cut without arm-holes; that is, the sleeve is taken out of the stuff and the seams of the body are taken in the cut under the arm. Sitting close on the shoulders and the upper part of the body, it forms round plaits from the waist. This fullness is owing to its being cut in a style like the paletot. The back is not tight. The edges of the hood, the _soutanelle_, and the sleeves are trimmed with three _ruches_, very full, and indented like a saw. The one in the middle is the same color as the lining, the two others like the outside.

HEAD TOILET.--Much attention continues to be bestowed upon caps and other arrangements for the head. Figure 3 represents one of the newest styles, called the _chambord head-dress_. The hair forms a point over the forehead: a very small cap _a la Marie Stuart_, formed of several small quillings of white silk net, set close together, with a bouquet of flowers upon one side and a small bow of ribbon upon the other. Figure 4 represents a simple cap of black lace, with broad appendages of the same, instead of ribbons, on each side, and covering the ears. This is a neat head toilet for the morning costume of matrons. Head-dresses for the young are principally composed of the same flowers as those which decorate the dress, and are formed so as to suit the countenance of the wearer, either as a cordon around the head, from which droop long sprays of twining herbs, or bouquets of flowers, placed very far back, and tied with bows of black ribbon or velvet, with long ends.

The rage for lace is undiminished. It is adapted to so many purposes--vails, falls, flounces, shawl-berthes, collars, ruffles, habit-shirts, &c., that every variety of costume has lace as an important material in trimming. It forms a part of the head-dress, accompanies the gown, surrounds the waist, falls from the shoulders; light as feathers, rich as velvet, it is at once an article of luxury and ornament--a garment and a jewel.

Embroidery, following the example of lace, is coming more and more into favor; sleeves, collars, petticoats, and handkerchiefs are literally loaded with it, abroad; even stockings are beginning to participate in this kind of luxury.

There is no essential change in the make of dresses. Sleeves _a la Duchesse_ are beginning to be more fashionable than the pagoda sleeves. The waistcoat is still greatly admired, and is more seasonable now than in midsummer.

A new style of mantelet has appeared, called the _Valdivia_. It is a light gray cloth, lined with blue sarcenet. It is made without seams, very full, falling very low behind, where it is rounded in the form of the half circle. The two lappets before are also very long and wide, rounded like the back. No sleeves; the place for the hand is indicated by the sloped part. Another, called the _Espera_ mantelet, is of black watered silk, trimmed with a wide velvet, and bordered by a chenille fringe. It fits to the waist and falls as low as the calf behind. The fronts fall straight and square, a little lower than behind.

The Bloomer costume has appeared in England and Ireland, and attracted attention and approbation. Although comparatively few in this country have yet adopted it to its full extent (or, rather, curtailment), the agitation of the question has been of essential benefit in modifying the long and untidy skirts. They are now made some inches shorter than they were six months ago.