CHAPTER XIV.

Egerton had thrown himself at full length on the sofa, a position exceedingly rare with him; and about his whole air and manner, as Levy entered, there was something singularly different from that stateliness of port common to the austere legislator. The very tone of his voice was different. It was as if the statesman--the man of business--had vanished; it was rather the man of fashion and the idler, who, nodding languidly to his visitor, said, "Levy, what money can I have for a year?"

"The estate will bear very little more. My dear fellow, that last election was the very devil. You can not go on thus much longer."

"My dear fellow!" Baron Levy hailed Audley Egerton as "my dear fellow." And Audley Egerton, perhaps, saw nothing strange in the words, though his lip curled.

"I shall not want to go on thus much longer," answered Egerton, as the curl on his lip changed to a gloomy smile. "The estate must, meanwhile, bear £5000 more."

"A hard pull on it. You had really better sell."

"I can not afford to sell at present. I can not afford men to say, 'Audley Egerton is done up--his property is for sale.'"

"It is very sad when one thinks what a rich man you have been--and may be yet!"

"Be yet! How?"

Baron Levy glanced toward the thick mahogany doors--thick and impervious as should be the doors of statesmen. "Why, you know that, with three words from you, I could produce an effect upon the stocks of three nations, that might give us each a hundred thousand pounds. We would go shares."

"Levy," said Egerton coldly, though a deep blush overspread his face, "you are a scoundrel; that is your look out. I interfere with no man's tastes and consciences. I don't intend to be a scoundrel myself. I have told you that long ago."

The Baron laughed, without evincing the least displeasure.

"Well," said he, "you are neither wise nor complimentary; but you shall have the money. But yet, would it not be better," added Levy, with emphasis, "to borrow it, without interest, of your friend L'Estrange?"

Egerton started as if stung.

"You mean to taunt me, sir!" he exclaimed passionately. "I accept pecuniary favors from Lord L'Estrange! I!"

"Tut, my dear Egerton, I dare say my Lord would not think so ill now of that little act in your life which--"

"Hold, hold!" exclaimed Egerton, writhing. "Hold!"

He stopped, and paced the room, muttering in broken sentences, "To blush before this man! Chastisement, chastisement!"

Levy gazed on him with hard and sinister eyes. The minister turned abruptly.

"Look you, Levy," said he, with forced composure--"you hate me--why, I know not. I have never injured you--never avenged the inexpiable wrong you did me."

"Wrong!--you a man of the world! Wrong! Call it so if you will then," he added shrinkingly, for Audley's brow grew terrible. "But have I not atoned it? Would you ever have lived in this palace, and ruled this country as one of the most influential of its ministers, but for my management--my whispers to the wealthy Miss Leslie? Come, but for me what would you have been--perhaps a beggar?"

"What shall I be now if I live? _Then_ I should not have been a beggar; poor perhaps in money, but rich--rich in all that now leaves my life bankrupt. Gold has not thriven with me; how should it. And this fortune--it has passed for the main part into your hands. Be patient, you will have it all ere long. But there is one man in the world who has loved me from a boy, and woe to you if ever he learn that he has the right to despise me!"

"Egerton, my good fellow," said Levy, with great composure, "you need not threaten me, for what interest can I possibly have in tale-telling to Lord L'Estrange? As to hating you--pooh! You snub me in private, you cut me in public, you refuse to come to my dinners, you'll not ask me to your own; still there is no man I like better, nor would more willingly serve. When do you want the £5000?"

"Perhaps in one month, perhaps not for three or four. Let it be ready when required."

"Enough; depend on it. Have you any other commands?"

"None."

"I will take my leave, then. By the by, what do you suppose the Hazeldean rental is worth--net?"

"I don't know nor care. You have no designs upon _that_, too?"

"Well, I like keeping up family connections. Mr. Frank seems a liberal young gentleman."

Before Egerton could answer, the baron had glided to the door, and, nodding pleasantly, vanished with that nod.

Egerton remained standing on his solitary hearth. A drear, single man's room it was, from wall to wall, despite its fretted ceilings and official pomp of Bramah escritoires and red boxes. Drear and cheerless--no trace of woman's habitation--no vestige of intruding, happy children. There stood the austere man alone. And then with a deep sigh he muttered, "Thank heaven, not for long--it will not last long."

Repeating those words, he mechanically locked up his papers, and pressed his hand to his heart for an instant, as if a spasm had shot through it.

"So--I must shun all emotion!" said he, shaking his head gently.

In five minutes more, Audley Egerton was in the streets, his mien erect, and his step firm as ever.

"That man is made of bronze," said a leader of the Opposition to a friend as they rode past the minister. "What would I give for his nerves!"

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

THE OPERA.

BY THOMAS CARLYLE.

[TO THE EDITOR OF THE LONDON KEEPSAKE:

"Dear P.--Not having any thing of my own which I could contribute (as is my wish and duty) to this pious Adventure of yours, and not being able in these hot busy days to get any thing ready, I decide to offer you a bit of an Excerpt from that singular 'Conspectus of England,' lately written, not yet printed, by Professor Ezechiel Peasemeal, a distinguished American friend of mine. Dr. Peasemeal will excuse my printing it here. His 'Conspectus,' a work of some extent, has already been crowned by the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Bunkum, which includes, as you know, the chief thinkers of the New World and it will probably be printed entire in their 'Transactions' one day. Meanwhile let your readers have the first taste of it; and much good may it do them and you!"--T. C.]

Music is well said to be the speech of angels; in fact, nothing among the utterances allowed to man is felt to be so divine. It brings us near to the Infinite; we look, for moments, across the cloudy elements, into the eternal Sea of Light, when song leads and inspires us. Serious nations, all nations that can still listen to the mandate of nature, have prized song and music as the highest; as a vehicle for worship, for prophecy, and for whatsoever in them was divine. Their singer was a _vates_, admitted to the council of the universe, friend of the gods and choicest benefactor to man.

Reader, it was actually so in Greek, in Roman, in Moslem, Christian, most of all in Old-Hebrew times: and if you look how it now is, you will find a change that should astonish you. Good Heavens, from a Psalm of Asaph to a seat at the London Opera in the Haymarket, what a road have men traveled! The waste that is made in music is probably among the saddest of all our squanderings of God's gifts. Music has, for a long time past, been avowedly mad, divorced from sense and fact; and runs about now as an open Bedlamite, for a good many generations back, bragging that she has nothing to do with sense and fact, but with fiction and delirium only; and stares with unaffected amazement, not able to suppress an elegant burst of witty laughter, at my suggesting the old fact to her.

Fact nevertheless it is, forgotten, and fallen ridiculous as it may be. Tyrtæus, who had a little music, did not sing Barbers of Seville, but the need of beating back one's country's enemies; a most _true_ song, to which the hearts of men did burst responsive into fiery melody, followed by fiery strokes before long. Sophocles also sang, and showed in grand dramatic rhythm and melody, not a fable but a fact, the best he could interpret it: the judgments of Eternal Deity upon the erring sons of men. Æschylus, Sophocles, all noble poets were priests as well; and sang the _truest_ (which was also the divinest) they had been privileged to discover here below. To "sing the praise of God," that, you will find, if you can interpret old words, and see what new things they mean, was always, and will always be, the business of the singer. He who forsakes that business, and, wasting our divinest gifts, sings the praise of Chaos, what shall we say of him?

David, king of Judah, a soul inspired by divine music and much other heroism, was wont to pour himself in song; he, with seer's eye and heart, discerned the Godlike amid the Human; struck tones that were an echo of the sphere-harmonies, and are still felt to be such. Reader, art thou one of a thousand, able still to _read_ a Psalm of David, and catch some echo of it through the old dim centuries; feeling far off, in thy own heart, what it once was to other hearts made as thine? To sing it attempt not, for it is impossible in this late time; only know that it once was sung. Then go to the Opera, and hear, with unspeakable reflections, what men now sing!

Of the Haymarket Opera my account, in fine, is this:--Lustres, candelebras, painting, gilding at discretion: a hall as of the Caliph Alraschid, or him that commanded the slaves of the Lamp; a hall as if fitted up by the genies, regardless of expense. Upholstery, and the outlay of human capital, could do no more. Artists, too, as they are called, have been got together from the ends of the world, regardless likewise of expense, to do dancing and singing, some of them even geniuses in their craft. One singer in particular, called Coletti or some such name, seemed to me, by the cast of his face, by the tones of his voice, by his general bearing, so far as I could read it, to be a man of deep and ardent sensibilities, of delicate intuitions, just sympathies; originally an almost poetic soul, or man of _genius_ as we term it; stamped by Nature as capable of far other work than squalling here, like a blind Samson, to make the Philistines sport!

Nay, all of them had aptitudes, perhaps of a distinguished kind; and must, by their own and other people's labor, have got a training equal or superior in toilsomeness, earnest assiduity, and patient travail, to what breeds men to the most arduous trades. I speak not of kings, grandees, or the like show-figures; but few soldiers, judges, men of letters, can have had such pains taken with them. The very ballet-girls, with their muslin saucers round them, were perhaps little short of miraculous; whirling and spinning there in strange mad vortexes, and then suddenly fixing themselves motionless, each upon her left or right great-toe, with the other leg stretched out at an angle of ninety degrees; as if you had suddenly pricked into the floor, by one of their points, a pair, or rather a multitudinous cohort, of mad restlessly jumping and clipping scissors, and so bidden them rest, with opened blades, and stand still, in the Devil's name! A truly notable motion; marvelous, almost miraculous, were not the people there so used to it. Motion peculiar to the Opera; perhaps the ugliest, and surely one of the most difficult, ever taught a female creature in this world. Nature abhors it; but Art does at least admit it to border on the impossible. One little Cerito, or Taglioni the Second, that night when I was there, went bounding from the floor as if she had been made of indian-rubber, or filled with hydrogen gas, and inclined by positive levity to bolt through the ceiling: perhaps neither Semiramis nor Catharine the Second had bred herself so carefully.

Such talent, and such martyrdom of training, gathered from the four winds, was now here, to do its feat and be paid for it. Regardless of expense, indeed! The purse of Fortunatus seemed to have opened itself, and the divine art of Musical Sound and Rhythmic Motion was welcomed with an explosion of all the magnificences which the other arts, fine and coarse, could achieve. For you are to think of some Rossini or Bellini in the rear of it, too; to say nothing of the Stanfields, and hosts of scene-painters, machinists, engineers, enterprisers--fit to have taken Gibraltar, written the History of England, or reduced Ireland into Industrial Regiments, had they so set their minds to it!...

Alas, and all of these notable or noticeable human talents, and excellent perseverances and energies, backed by mountains of wealth, and led by the divine art of Music and Rhythm vouchsafed by Heaven to them and us, what was to be the issue here this evening? An hour's amusement, not amusing either, but wearisome and dreary, to a high-dizened select Populace of male and female persons, who seemed to me not much worth amusing! Could any one have pealed into their hearts once, one true thought, and glimpse of self-vision: "High-dizened, most expensive persons, Aristocracy so-called, or _Best_ of the World, beware, beware what proofs you give of betterness and bestness!" And then the salutary pang of conscience in reply: "A select Populace, with money in its purse, and drilled a little by the posture-maker: good Heavens! if that were what, here and every where in God's Creation, I _am_? And a world all dying because I am, and shew myself to be, and to have long been, even that? John, the carriage, the carriage; swift! Let me go home in silence, to reflection, perhaps to sackcloth and ashes!" This, and not amusement, would have profited those high-dizened persons.

Amusement, at any rate, they did not get from Euterpe and Melpomene. These two Muses, sent for, regardless of expense, I could see, were but the vehicle of a kind of service which I judged to be Paphian rather. Young beauties of both sexes use their opera-glasses, you could notice, not entirely for looking at the stage. And it must be owned the light, in this explosion of all the upholsteries and the human fine arts and coarse, was magical; and made your fair one an Armida--if you liked her better so. Nay, certain old Improper-Females (of quality), in their rouge and jewels, even these looked some _reminiscence_ of enchantment; and I saw this and the other lean domestic Dandy, with icy smile on his old worn face; this and the other Marquis Singedelomme, Prince Mahogany, or the like foreign Dignitary, tripping into the boxes of said females; grinning there awhile, with dyed mustaches and macassar-oil graciosity, and then tripping out again: and, in fact, I perceived that Coletti and Cerito and the Rhythmic Arts were a mere accompaniment here.

Wonderful to see; and sad, if you had eyes! Do but think of it. Cleopatra threw pearls into her drink, in mere waste; which was reckoned foolish of her. But here had the Modern Aristocracy of men brought the divinest of its Arts, heavenly Music itself; and piling all the upholsteries and ingenuities that other human art could do, had lighted them into a bonfire to illuminate an hour's flirtation of Singedelomme, Mahogany, and these Improper-Persons! Never in Nature had I seen such waste before. O Colletti, you whose inborn melody, once of kindred as I judged to 'the Melodies eternal,' might have valiantly weeded out this and the other false thing from the ways of men, and made a bit of God's creation more melodious--they have purchased you away from that; chained you to the wheel of Prince Mahogany's chariot, and here you make sport for a macassar Singedelomme and his Improper-Females past the prime of life! Wretched spiritual Nigger, oh, if you _had_ some genius, and were not a born Nigger with mere appetite for pumpkin, should you have endured such a lot? I lament for _you_, beyond all other expenses. Other expenses are light; you are the Cleopatra's pearl that should not have been flung into Mahogany's claret-cup. And Rossini, too, and Mozart, and Bellini--Oh Heavens, when I think that Music too is condemned to be mad and to burn herself, to this end, on such a funeral pile--your celestial Opera-house grows dark and infernal to me! Behind its glitter stalks the shadow of Eternal Death; through it too I look not 'up into the divine eye,' as Richter has it, 'but down into the bottomless eyesocket--not up toward God, Heaven, and the Throne of Truth, but too truly down toward Falsity, Vacuity, and the dwelling-place of Everlasting Despair....

Good sirs, surely I by no means expect the Opera will abolish itself this year or the next. But if you ask me, Why heroes are not born now, why heroisms are not done now? I will answer you, It is a world all calculated for strangling of heroisms. At every ingress into life, the genius of the world lies in wait for heroisms, and by seduction or compulsion unweariedly does its utmost to pervert them or extinguish them. Yes; to its Hells of sweating tailors, distressed needle-women, and the like, this Opera of yours is the appropriate Heaven! Of a truth, if you will read a Psalm of Asaph till you understand it, and then come hither and hear the Rossini-and-Coletti Psalm, you will find the ages have altered a good deal....

Nor do I wish all men to become Psalmist Asaphs and fanatic Hebrews. Far other is my wish; far other, and wider, is now my notion of this Universe. Populations of stern faces, stern as any Hebrew, but capable withal of bursting into inextinguishable laughter on occasion;--do you understand that new and better form of character? Laughter also, if it come from the heart, is a heavenly thing. But, at least and lowest, I would have you a Population abhorring phantasms;--abhorring _unveracity_ in all things; and in your 'amusements,' which are voluntary and not compulsory things, abhorring it most impatiently of all....

HIGH LIFE IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.

We gain the following glimpse of the manners of the upper classes in England, four hundred years ago, from the journal of ELIZABETH WOODVILLE, subsequently Lady Grey, and finally Queen of Edward IV. Royalty _in petto_ seems to have taken, with a most refreshing cordiality, to the avocations of baking and brewing, pig-tending, poultry-feeding, and pony-catching.

"_Monday morning._--Rose at 4 o'clock, and helped Catherine to milk the cows. Rachel, the dairy-maid, having scalded her hand in so bad a manner the night before; made a poultice, and gave Robin a penny to get something from the apothecary.

"6 _o'clock._--The buttock of beef too much boiled, and beer a little stale; (mem) to talk to the cook about the first fault, and to mend the other myself by tapping a fresh barrel immediately.

"7 _o'clock._--Went to walk with the lady my mother in the court-yard; fed 25 men and women: chid Roger severely for expressing some ill-will at attending us with some broken meat.

"8 _o'clock._--Went into the paddock behind the house with my maid Dorothy; caught Thump, the little pony, myself; rode a matter of ten miles without saddle or bridle.

"10 _o'clock._--Went to dinner. John Grey, a most comely youth; but what is that to me? a virtuous maid should be entirely under the direction of her parents. John ate but little, and stole a great many tender glances at me. Said women could never be handsome in his eyes, who were not good tempered. I hope my temper is not intolerable; nobody finds fault with it but Roger, and he is the most disorderly youth in our house. John Grey likes white teeth; my teeth are a pretty good color. I think my hair is as black as jet--tho' I say it; and John Grey, if I mistake not, is of the same opinion.

"11 _o'clock._--Rose from the table--the company all desirous of walking in the field. John Grey lifted me over every stile, and twice squeezed my hand with much vehemence. I can not say I should have much objection, for he plays at prison bar as well as any of the country gentlemen; is remarkably dutiful to his parents, my lord and lady, and never misses church on Sunday.

"3 _o'clock._--Poor Farmer Robinson's house burnt down by accidental fire. John Grey proposed a subscription among the company for the relief of the farmer, and gave no less than four pounds with this benevolent intent. (Mem) never saw him look so comely as at this moment.

"4 _o'clock._--Went to prayers.

"6 _o'clock._--Fed hogs and poultry.

MONTHLY RECORD OF CURRENT EVENTS.

UNITED STATES.

The arrival of M. KOSSUTH has been the chief event, so far as public interest is concerned, of the past month. The manifestations of popular regard and admiration of which he has been the object, have been most remarkable, and are entirely without example. That a foreigner, whose name, five years ago, was not known to a thousand people in the United States, and whose subsequent career has been upon a field so remote from general knowledge and interest as the plains of Hungary, should have aroused a degree of enthusiasm never equaled hitherto, is a phenomenon which finds its only explanation in his extraordinary ability, and the character of the heroic struggle in which he has been engaged. M. KOSSUTH and his suite arrived in the American steamer Humboldt, on the morning of Friday, December 4th. At the request of the Mayor of New York he remained for a day on Staten Island, at the residence of Dr. Doane, until the authorities of New York could prepare for his public reception in that city. He was immediately waited upon by numerous deputations, presenting addresses of congratulation and respect, to all of which he made pertinent replies. The citizens of Staten Island gave him a public reception on Friday, at which he spoke for half an hour;--he referred to the general objects of his visit to the United States, which were, to advance the interests of his own country; and repelled some of the slanders which have been put in circulation against him. On Saturday he entered the city of New York, amidst vast numbers of its people who had gathered to meet him, and whose enthusiasm exceeded all bounds. He made a brief address at Castle Garden, joined a great procession around the city, and reviewed the troops at the City Hall. His address was merely introductory to the purposes of his visit here. He expressed the warmest gratitude for the interference of the United States to release him from captivity, and for the reception with which he had been honored. He spoke of the condition of his country with the deepest feeling, and expressed a hope that the United States would extend their aid to prevent foreign powers from crushing Hungary. He said he desired some little time, not only to recruit his health, which had suffered somewhat from his voyage, but also to examine the ground upon which he must stand in his labors for his country.--The few days succeeding were passed in comparative retirement, though on every day numerous deputations from various parts of the country waited upon him to tender their congratulations, and to invite him to their respective sections.

On the evening of Thursday, the 12th ult., the Corporation of New York City entertained M. Kossuth at a splendid banquet, at which he made a very long and very able speech, explaining the purposes which had brought him to the United States, and the action which he desired should be taken by the people, and vindicating their propriety and necessity. He began by saying that Washington's alleged policy of non-interference in European affairs was the greatest obstacle which he encountered to the prosecution of his plans. Supposing even that such a doctrine had been bequeathed by Washington, he insisted that it could not possibly be applicable to the present greatly-changed condition of the country. But Washington, in his judgment, had never recommended such a policy. He only recommended neutrality: and there was a great difference between these two ideas. Neutrality relates to a state of war between belligerent powers: and in such contentions Washington wisely advised his countrymen to maintain a position of neutrality. But non-interference relates to the sovereign right of nations to dispose of themselves; this right is a public law of nations--common to all, and, therefore, put under the common guarantee of all. This law the citizens of the United States must recognize, because their own independence rests upon it. And they could not, therefore, remain indifferent to its violation. Washington never advised such indifference, as his instructions to our Minister in France, and his correspondence, show. But even neutrality was recommended by Washington, not as a Constitutional principle, of permanent obligation, but only as a _policy_--suited to temporary exigencies--which pass away. Washington himself declared, that his motive was to enable the country to gain _time_, to settle and mature its institutions to that degree of strength and consistency which would give it the command of its own fortunes. And in a letter to Lafayette, he said, that twenty years of peace would bring the country to that degree of power and wealth which would enable it, in a just cause, to defy whatever power on earth. M. Kossuth then proceeded to show, that in the history of this country this policy had been steadily developed. He referred to the declaration of the Government that they would not permit the interference of European powers with the revolted Spanish Colonies. True, this doctrine was restricted to this Continent, because it was so distant from Europe, and because the Atlantic separated us from European nations. Both these objections have been superseded. Europe is now nearer to us than many parts of our own country: and the Atlantic now _connects_ Europe and America, instead of separating them. Commercial interest required the United States to prevent the overgrowth of Absolutism in Europe, because that growth is, and must be hostile to intercourse with a republican country. If these absolutist powers, moreover should become victorious in Europe, and then united, they would aim a blow at Republicanism on this Continent. M. Kossuth proceeded to quote from Mr. Fillmore's late Message the declaration, that the deep interest we feel in every struggle for liberty, "forbids that we should be indifferent to a case, in which the strong arm of a foreign power is invoked to stifle public sentiment, and repress the spirit of freedom in any country." He quoted also similar declarations from Washington and from Mr. Webster, and claimed that he had thus fully established, on American authority, that all nations are bound to interfere to prevent any one nation from interfering in the concerns of any other. He then considered the objections that may be urged against carrying this principle into effect. The objection that it is not our business, was met by the denial of any nation to live only for itself: every nation is bound to obey the Divine injunction--"Do unto others as ye would that others should do unto you." The objection against such a step because it might lead to war, was answered by saying, that it would _prevent_ war--that the union of the United States and of England, in a protest against the intervention of Russia in the affairs of Hungary, would be sufficient to stop it, and to prevent war. He wished, therefore, that the people of this country should adopt resolutions, requesting their Government to take such a step. He sketched briefly the history of the Hungarian struggle, and concluded by proposing three distinct measures which he desired at the hands of the American people:--1st. A declaration, conjointly with England, against the interference of Russia in the affairs of Hungary; 2d. A declaration that the United States will maintain commerce with European nations, whether they are in a state of revolution or not; and 3d. That the people would recognize Hungary as an independent nation. These three steps, taken by the people and Government of the United States in concert with those of England, he was confident, would prevent Russian intervention, and enable Hungary to assert and maintain her position as one among the independent nations of the earth. He also appealed to the people for aid to Hungary, in gifts and loans of money. The speech was eminently argumentative and calm in its tone. It was heard with universal pleasure and admiration.

On the evening of Monday, Dec. 15th, the Members of the Press in the City of New York gave M. KOSSUTH a splendid banquet at the Astor House. The large hall was very elegantly decorated, and a company of nearly three hundred sat down at table. Mr. W. C. BRYANT presided. KOSSUTH commenced his speech by speaking of the power of the Press, and its freedom in the United States--the only country, in his opinion, where that freedom was truly practical and useful to the great mass of the people. The devotion of this country to the cause of Education he regarded as its greatest glory. And he desired to appeal to the people, thus fitted by their education and their press to form an intelligent and correct judgment, on behalf of his country's cause. He was proud to remember that he commenced his public career as a journalist; and he drew a graphic picture of the circumstances under which journalists in despotic countries, with fettered hands and a censor at their side, are compelled to perform their task. He then proceeded to correct some very remarkable misrepresentations of the Hungarian cause to which currency had been given. The United States had a national government, in spite of the great variety of languages spoken within their borders. Now, if the various races in the Union should refuse to receive the laws, the liberties, the protection, and the freedom of the general government, and sacrifice all these to language--each claiming to set up a government in which its own language should alone be used--we should have an example here of the manner in which the several races of Hungary had been excited to rebellion by the wiles of Austria. He dwelt at some length upon the superior numbers of those in Hungary speaking the Magyar tongue, over those speaking all others; and upon the _Pansclavic_ league, which professed to seek to unite all speaking Sclavic in a common cause, but which was really a trick of despots to destroy their freedom. The Hungarian Diet had not abolished any other tongue; it had only replaced the dead Latin by a living language. It was, therefore, untrue that the Hungarians had struggled for the dominion of their own race; they struggled for civil, political, social, and religious freedom, common to all, against Austrian despotism: the ruling principle of the nation was, to have Republican institutions, founded on universal suffrage--so that the majority of the people shall rule in every respect and in all departments. This was the principle for which they would live, and for which they were willing to die. He entreated the aid of the United States in that great struggle. The speech was heard with interest, and was followed by speeches from a large number of gentlemen connected with the City Press.

The Thirty-second Congress met, in its first session, on the 1st of December. A caucus of the Democratic members met on the Saturday evening previous:--at this meeting a resolution pledging the party to sustain the Compromise measures was laid upon the table by a vote of 50 to 30--mainly on the ground that it was not a proper occasion for action upon that subject. On Monday morning, a caucus of Whig members was held, and a similar resolution was passed. In the House of Representatives, Hon. Linn Boyd of Kentucky was elected Speaker, and John W. Forney of Pennsylvania, Clerk.

A resolution, offered by Mr. Seward of New York, declaring that, on behalf of the People of the United States, Congress extended to Kossuth a welcome to the Capital and to the Country, was passed, there being six nays in the Senate and sixteen in the House of Representatives. Some little debate was had upon the subject in the Senate,--but none in the House.--Senator Foote, of Mississippi, offered a series of resolutions declaring the Compromise measures of 1850 a final settlement of the questions to which they relate. They were under discussion in the Senate when our Record closed.

The President's Message was sent in on Tuesday. It presents in a clear and able manner the condition of the country, and the events of the past year. It congratulates Congress on the preservation of peace, and on the abatement of those sectional agitations which for a time threatened to disturb the harmony of the Union. A detailed narrative is given of the invasion of Cuba, and the events by which it was followed. The steamer Pampero, with about 400 men, left New Orleans for Cuba on the 3d of August, in spite of the precautions which had been taken to prevent it. The expedition was set on foot in palpable violation of the laws of the United States. The steamer landed those on board on the night of August 11th, at Playtas, twenty leagues from Havana, whence the main body of them marched to an inland village in the interior. The remainder were attacked on the 13th, by a body of Spanish troops, captured, taken to Havana and shot. The main body was dispersed August 24th, and their leader Lopez, executed on the 1st of September. Of those taken prisoners several were pardoned, and about 160 sent to Spain. The Government will spare no proper efforts to procure their release; but its purpose is proclaimed to enforce rigidly the laws which prevent its citizens from interfering with the concerns of foreign nations. No individuals, it is declared, have a right to hazard the peace of the country or to violate its laws, upon vague notions of altering or reforming governments in other states; but every independent nation, it is added, must be able to defend its possessions against unauthorized individuals banded together to attack them. The Government of the United States will rigidly adhere to, and enforce its policy of neutrality, which they were among the first to proclaim and establish. Friendly relations with all, but entangling alliances with none, is declared to be our policy. "Our true mission is not to propagate our opinions, or impose upon other countries our form of government, by artifice or force; but to teach by example, and show by our success, moderation, and justice, the blessings of self-government, and the advantages of free institutions. Let every people choose for itself, and make and alter its political institutions to suit its own condition and convenience. But, while we avow and maintain this neutral policy ourselves, we are anxious to see the same forbearance on the part of other nations whose forms of government are different from our own. The deep interest which we feel in the spread of liberal principles, and the establishment of free governments, and the sympathy with which we witness every struggle against oppression, forbid that we should be indifferent to a case in which the strong arm of a foreign power is invoked to stifle public sentiment, and repress the spirit of freedom in any country." The governments of France and Great Britain have issued orders to their commanders on the West India station to prevent, by force if necessary, the landing of invaders upon the coast of Cuba. Our government has taken proper precautions to prevent the execution of these orders from interfering with the maritime rights of the United States. The principle that in every regularly documented merchant vessel, the crew who navigate it, and those on board of it, will find their protection in the flag that is over them, will be rigidly enforced in all cases, and at all hazards. No American ship can be allowed to be visited and searched for the purpose of ascertaining the character of individuals on board, nor can there be allowed any watch by the vessels of any foreign nation over American vessels on the coasts of the United States or the seas adjacent thereto. The French government has given orders to its commanders to respect the flag of the United States wherever it might appear.--The outrages committed at New Orleans upon the Spanish Consul are recited and deeply deplored. The President considers the legislation of the country, for the protection or punishment of consuls, insufficient. The attention of Congress is asked to the question of reciprocal trade between Canada and the United States, and to the survey of the Oregon boundary. Louis Napoleon has accepted the post of arbiter in the dispute between Portugal and the United States, concerning the General Armstrong. The steps taken by Congress to procure the release of Kossuth are recited, and the President recommends to Congress to consider in what manner Governor Kossuth and his companions, brought hither by its authority, shall be received and treated.--It is hoped that the differences between France and the Sandwich Islands may be adjusted so as to secure the independence of those islands--which has been recognized by the United States, as well as by several European nations.--The disturbances in Mexico are deplored:--steps have been taken to prevent American citizens from aiding the rebellion in the northern departments. A convention has been entered into between Mexico and the United States, intended to impart a feeling of security to those citizens of the United States who have undertaken to construct a railroad across the Isthmus of Tehuantepec;--it has not yet, however, been ratified by the Congress and Executive of that country. The only object which our government has had in view, has been the construction of a passage from ocean to ocean, the shortest and best for travelers and merchandise, and equally open to all the world. It has sought neither territorial acquisition, nor any advantages peculiar to itself. It will therefore continue to exert all proper efforts to secure the co-operation of Mexico.--The republic of Nicaragua has been so much disturbed by internal convulsions, that nothing can be done as yet toward disposing of the questions pending between the two countries.--Inter-oceanic communication from the mouth of the St. John to the Pacific has been so far accomplished that passengers and merchandise have been transported over it. A considerable part of the railroad across the isthmus has been completed. Peace has been concluded between the contending parties in the island of St. Domingo. The office of Commissioner to China is not yet filled:--a higher salary is asked for it.

The aggregate receipts of the last fiscal year amounted to $52,312,979:--the total expenditures $48,005,878. The total imports of the year were $215,725,995, of which $4,967,901 was in specie. The total exports were $217,517,130, of which $29,231,880 was in specie. Since the 1st of December 1850, the payments on account of the principal of the public debt have amounted to $7,501,456, which includes $3,242,400 paid to Mexico and $2,591,253 awarded to American citizens under the Mexican treaty. The public debt on the 20th of November, exclusive of stock authorized to be issued to Texas, was $62,560,395. The receipts for the next fiscal year are estimated at $51,800,000. The total expenditures for the next year are estimated at $42,892,299, of which $33,343,198 will be needed for the ordinary expenses of the government, and $9,549,101 for payments of the public debt and expenses consequent on our territorial acquisitions. The value of our exports is $43,648,322 more than it was the year before last, but this is owing mainly to the increased price of cotton. The value of our exports of bread stuffs and provisions has fallen from $68,701,921 in 1847, to $26,051,373 in 1850, and to $21,948,653 in 1851, with a strong probability of a still farther reduction in the current year. In the exports of rice and tobacco there has also been a large decrease. These facts are cited as showing the fallacy of expecting increased exports from a reduced tariff. The production of gold in California, it is feared, will tend to increase our imports beyond a healthy demand. We have exported specie during the year to the amount of $24,263,979 beyond our imports. Of the stock due to Texas only five millions have been issued. The President recommends a change in the Tariff so as to convert _ad valorem_ into specific duties, wherever it is possible, and also to discriminate in favor of American industry. The cash sales of the public lands exceed those of the previous year. Proper steps have been taken for a survey of the mineral lands of California. The establishment of an agricultural bureau is recommended. The President also recommends appropriations for internal improvements, and the more effectual protection of our frontiers from Indian incursions. The expenditures of the War Department for the year were $9,060,268: the estimates for the next year are $7,898,775. The return of the Arctic Expedition is noticed: the estimates for the navy during the ensuing year are $5,856,472. The length of mail routes at the end of the year was 196,290 miles: the annual transportation thereon 53,273,252 miles: and the total cost $3,421,754. The length of the foreign mail routes is estimated at 18,349 miles; and the annual transportation thereon at 615,206 miles. The annual cost of this service is $1,472,187, of which $448,937 is paid by the Post Office Department, and $1,023,250 is paid through the Navy Department. The annual transportation _within_ the United States (excluding the service in California and Oregon), exceeds that of the preceding year 6,162,855 miles, at an increased cost of $547,110. The whole number of post offices in the United States, on the 30th day of June last, was 19,796. There were 1,698 post offices established, and 256 discontinued, during the year. The gross revenues of the Department for the fiscal year, including the appropriations for the franked matter of Congress, of the Departments, and officers of Government, and excluding the foreign postages, collected for and payable to the British post office, amounted to $6,727,866.78. The expenditures for the same period amounted to $6,024,566.79; leaving a balance of revenue over the proper expenditures of the year of $703,299.99. The receipts for postages during the year (excluding the foreign postages collected for and payable to the British post office) amounted to $6,345,747.21, being an increase of $997,610.79, or 18-65.100 percent over the like receipts for the preceding year. No reliable estimate can as yet be formed of the effect of the reduction of postage: it is believed, however, that the receipts will be diminished. The postmaster general recommends adherence to the present rates of letter postage, and advises against a further reduction until it shall be justified by the revenues of the Department. He recommends a revision of the rates of postage on printed matter. The President urges the appointment of a commission to revise the public statutes of the United States. Measures have been taken, pursuant to law, for the extension of the Capitol. It is deeply regretted that the execution of the fugitive slave law should have been resisted in one or two instances: the purpose of the President is reiterated to secure its enforcement. The Message recommends that the Compromise measures of 1850 be regarded as a final settlement of the questions to which they relate.

Reports from several of the Departments were submitted with the Message: but as all their material statements are embodied in that document, further reference to them is not essential. It was also accompanied by a voluminous diplomatic correspondence with the representatives of Spain, England and France, on topics connected with the invasion of Cuba. On being informed that the French and English naval forces had been directed to aid Spain in preventing by force the invasion of Cuba, the Secretary of State wrote to the French minister pointing out the injurious consequences that might result from such an interference in a matter with which they had no direct concern. The government of the United States had shown its willingness and determination to prevent such invasions, and no hostile expedition could be fitted out against that province formidable enough to create any alarm for the safety of Cuba. The position of Cuba, moreover, in the line of direct commerce with Europe, rendered such an interposition especially objectionable. The government of France and those of other European nations, were long since informed that the United States could not see that island transferred by Spain to any other European state with indifference: and such a protectorate as these orders to their squadron implied, might lead to results equally objectionable. All experience proves, it was added, that the rights, interest, and peace of the continents of Europe and America will be best preserved by the forbearance of each to interfere in the affairs of the other. The French minister in his reply acknowledged the perfect propriety of the attitude of the American government, and repudiated the thought that France entertained doubts of the disposition of the United States to prevent the invasion of Cuba from their shores. America, he says, is now closely connected with Europe by the interest of commerce, and the nations of the two continents are so dependent upon each other, that the effects of any event on one side are immediately felt on the other. Full explanations were offered to the Spanish government in regard to the insults to which the Spanish consul was subjected in New Orleans, and the liberation of the American prisoners in Cuba was strongly urged.

A sad accident occurred in New York city on the 27th of November. In a large public school, in the Ninth Ward, one of the teachers was seized with paralysis. The circumstance alarmed her pupils, and their screams created a sudden panic throughout all the school. Immense numbers rushed to the stairs the banisters of which gave way, and they fell one upon another, upon the stone floor below. _Forty-three_ children were killed by this sad catastrophe. The Coroner's Inquest discovered nothing except that the stairs were improperly and insecurely constructed.

In Mississippi the Constitutional Convention adjourned on the 17th November, after adopting resolutions declaring the acquiescence of the State in the Compromise and the Union, but declaring that it would secede in case Congress should repeal the Fugitive Slave law, or in any way interfere with slavery in the States. The same Convention adopted by a vote of 72 to 17, a resolution declaring that the asserted right of secession is utterly unsanctioned by the Constitution, and that it can not, in fact, take place without a subversion of the Union and a civil revolution.

Mr. John S. Thrasher, the American in Havana, to whose case we alluded in our last Monthly Record, has had his trial (if the process to which he was subjected deserves such a name), and has been sentenced to imprisonment for eight years on the coast of Africa. He was thrown into prison and kept there for some weeks, until the 15th of November, when he was tried before a court martial. He was not allowed counsel, no witnesses were examined, and the proceeding was wholly a farce. The charges against him were of the most puerile kind, and not the slightest proof of their truth was offered. Yet he was convicted, sentenced, and sent from Havana in a Spanish ship of war. He has published a brief appeal to the government and people of the United States, in which he sets forth the gross illegality of the whole proceeding.

The official returns of the State election in New York have just been declared as follows:

_Judge of Court_ } Johnson (Dem.) 201,144 3,321 _Maj._ _of Appeals._ } Foote (Whig) 197,823

_Sec. of State._ Randal (Dem.) 199,426 844 _Maj._ Forsyth (Whig) 198,582

_Comptroller._ Wright (Dem.) 200,790 258 _Maj._ Patterson (Whig) 200,532

_Treasurer._ Welch (Dem.) 200,465 Cook (Whig) 200,693 228 _Maj._

_Canal Com._ Wheaton (Dem.) 200,234 Fitzhugh (Whig) 201,147 913 _Maj._

_State Engineer._ McAlpine (Dem.) 203,032 3,728 _Maj._ Seymour (Whig) 199,304

_Ins. State Pris._ Storms (Dem.) 202,801 4,223 _Maj._ Wells (Whig) 198,578

The aggregate vote in all the districts, for Senators and Members of Assembly, was as follows:

_Senators._ _Assembly._ Whig ticket 199,556 199,367 Democratic 199,412 197,170 ------- ------- Whig majority 144 2,197

From CALIFORNIA we have news to the 1st of November. Over three millions of dollars in gold dust have been received during the month. The news is not of special interest. The success of the miners continued undiminished, and new deposits and veins of gold were discovered daily. From want of rain, however, washing the auriferous earth was attended with difficulty and delay. The capital has been removed back to San José. A Convention was held in the southern counties, on the 20th of October, to take steps for a division of the State. A declaration was adopted setting forth the reasons for this measure, which is ascribed mainly to the inequality of taxation, the distance of that section from the seat of government, and the inadequate protection received from the State authorities. Nothing definite was accomplished at the Convention.--The Indians have again proved to be troublesome on the southern frontier. Great fears were entertained for the safety of a company of twenty-three U. S. troops on the Gila River.--An expedition of about 125 men sailed from San Francisco for the Sandwich Islands, on the last of October: its object is not stated, though significant hints are thrown out that it is political. It was to be followed by another soon.

From Santa Fé we have news of fresh excitements growing out of alleged discoveries of gold on the Gila. Numerous parties had been formed and were going thither for the purpose of digging. The Indians in the neighborhood were comparatively quiet. Several battles, between the different tribes had occurred in the southern part of the territory.

In UTAH, among the Mormons, a spirit of resistance to the Government of the United States has been developed, and the Governor of the Territory, Brigham Young--one of the leading Mormons--has given indications of hostility, which will probably lead to his removal. We have not as yet received any definite details of the proceedings there.

GREAT BRITAIN.

Public attention in England has been mainly occupied with the movements and speeches of M. KOSSUTH. On the 10th of November he visited Birmingham, where he was received by an immense crowd of people, who evinced the utmost enthusiasm on his behalf. Without making any address at that time, he left for Manchester on the 11th, where he was also received with the greatest conceivable _eclat_. He made an address to the people in the Town Hall mainly upon the commercial and political aspects of the cause to which he was devoted. He felt that the great contest of the age is between absolutism, the power of the few, and the rights and well-being of the many. The decisive struggle is close at hand, as the signs of the times, visible on every side, sufficiently indicate. It was folly to say that the nations of Europe are contented, and that it is only a few ambitious and unprincipled individuals who are disturbing the existing tranquillity. The people of Europe would embrace the first opportunity to strike another blow for their rights. And the cause of Hungary, in this connection, was the cause of Europe, because Hungary from her local position must always form the only effectual bulwark against the despotism of Russia. England and the United States, he urged, were both deeply interested as free nations, and as guardians of the law of nations, to prevent Russia from again interfering to crush Hungary. He appealed to the people of Manchester upon this subject, mainly upon the ground, in addition to political considerations, that their trade would be greatly extended and all their interests benefited by the establishment of freedom in Europe. He closed by urging the aid of the people, in urging their government to act in the matter, and in contributions of money.

On the next day, Wednesday, M. KOSSUTH returned to Birmingham, where he made two addresses, the first at a _dejeuner_ at the house of Mr. Henry, in which he took occasion to disavow, in the most explicit terms, all or any participation in the views and purposes of Socialists or Communists. The other was at the Musical Fund Hall, where a banquet had been prepared. He there commenced with a sketch of the Hungarian struggle, and especially of the circumstances attending her declaration of independence. He said he had from his earliest youth been familiar with British history, and filled with the free spirit of her institutions, and he had longed to secure for his own country some of the rights which had made England so glorious and so happy a country. He spoke warmly in praise of the industry of Birmingham, and passed to a consideration of the character, condition, and hopes of Hungary. Henceforth, he said, monarchical institutions were impossible there. The treacheries of the House of Hapsburgh, had alienated the hearts of Hungarians from royalty, and henceforth republicanism must form the basis of their political institutions. The contest in Europe was not now for any single nation, or for any isolated interest;--it was a contest between despotism and freedom, for the dominion of the world. He called upon the people of England to prevent Russia from interfering against the struggling people of Hungary.

In London, M. KOSSUTH received addresses from numerous deputations, to all which he replied with great felicity--aiming steadily at his great object of receiving sympathy and aid for Hungary--denouncing alike Radicalism, Socialism, and despotism, asserting the political rights and advocating the civil freedom of the people, and impressing upon the public mind the fact that the struggle is at hand, which must decide which of the two great principles, despotism or freedom, shall dominate in Europe for many years to come. He attended the Polish and Hungarian ball in London on the 13th, and on the 15th went to Southampton to embark for the United States. He was met by the Mayor and Corporation and entertained at a farewell banquet. He there made a speech of an hour's length, in which he expressed his belief that England was the country which would have after all to decide the destinies of Europe. France was republican, and Russia must know, let it please her or not, that she must accept the necessity of fighting France on the field of Republicanism against Absolutism; but Russia must also learn that she would have to meet England and the force of her public opinion in opposition to despotism. He would not say that England would do so by going to war; but that she would exercise an influence of this kind by declaring her opinion against any interference in the domestic affairs of nations from foreign powers. Freedom and independence were but local self-government as opposed to centralization. He wished them to remember this, then they would see that the cause of Hungary was their cause too. His last request was, do not forget poor Hungary. On whatever question they met, let Englishmen, in their addresses to the House of Commons, in their petitions, and in their public resolutions, remember the cause of Hungary as involving their own interests. In the course of his speech he begged of them not to forget to agitate against secret diplomacy. It had been said that diplomacy should be kept secret, just as a merchant would keep his negotiations secret, till they were finished; but what merchant would allow business to be transacted in his counting-house the nature of which he did not know? In this case the people were the masters, and they should not allow any business to be conducted with the details of which they were not fully acquainted. The entertainment being over, M. Kossuth, Madame Kossuth, M. Pulzsky, and Madame Pulzsky, and suite, proceeded on board the American steamer Humboldt, which quickly started forth on her voyage across the Atlantic. Of his arrival and reception there we have already given an account.

FRANCE.

The political intelligence from France is of decided interest and importance. The Assembly has met--the President has demanded the restoration of universal suffrage, and the Assembly has refused to grant it. The appeal, of course, is to the people in the Presidential election of next May. What will be the result is, of course, matter of conjecture; but whatever it may be, it will exert a prodigious influence upon the politics of Europe.

The Assembly met on the 4th of November, six hundred and thirty-three members being present. On the next day the message of the President was sent in and read. It opens by proclaiming the continued preservation of peace, but utters warnings against being deceived by this apparent tranquillity. A vast demagogical conspiracy, the President says, has been organized in France and in Europe; secret societies have been formed extending their ramifications to the smallest communes; and all the most insensate and turbulent spirits, without being agreed on men or on things, have given themselves rendezvous for 1852. He relies on the patriotism of the Assembly to save France from these perils. The best means of doing this is by satisfying legitimate wants, and in putting down, on their first appearance, all attacks on religion, morality, and society.--The Message then proceeds, under different heads, to give a statement of the condition of the country. With the exception of the departments of Ardice, Cher, Nievre, and Lyons, the ordinary measures have been sufficient to preserve order. The receipts of taxes have been quite satisfactory. The progress of exportations continues unabated. Public roads and public buildings have received the attention of the government. Special care has also been given to the encouragement of agriculture. The superiority of French manufactures has been abundantly shown at the Great Exhibition in London. The number of common schools is 34,939; of girls' schools 10,542.--The number of the land forces on the 1st of October was 387,519 men and 84,306 horses. If circumstances permit, this will be reduced to 377,130 men and 83,435 horses. Out of 1145 tribes in Algeria, 1100 have recognized the rule of France. Various important naval works have been constructed. The relations of France to foreign powers are eminently satisfactory. Her situation at Rome continues unchanged, and the Pope still shows constant solicitude for the happiness of France and the welfare of her soldiers. Important measures are in progress at Rome, and active exertions are making for the formation of an army, which will render possible the withdrawal of the troops from the States of the Church. A proof has been given of the friendly disposition of France toward Spain, by offering her the aid of the French naval forces to oppose the audacious attempt against the island of Cuba.--In spite of all these satisfactory results, the President says a general feeling of uneasiness is daily increasing. "Every where employment is falling off, wretchedness is increasing, and anti-social hopes gain courage in proportion as the public powers, now weakened, are approaching their termination." The Government, in such a state of things, ought to seek out proper means of conjuring away the peril, and of assuring the best chances of safety. Resolutions must be adopted, which emanate from a decisive act of sovereign authority. "Well, then," proceeds the President, "I have asked myself whether, in presence of the madness of passions, the confusion of doctrines, the division of parties, when every thing is leaguing together to deprive justice, morality, and authority of their last prestige--whether, I say, we ought to allow the only principle to be shaken which, in the midst of the general chaos, Providence has left upstanding as our rallying point? When universal suffrage has again upraised the social edifice, when it has substituted a right for a revolutionary act, ought its base to be any longer narrowed? When new powers shall come to preside over the destinies of the country, is it not to compromise their stability in advance to leave a pretext for discussing their origin or doubting their legitimacy? No doubt on the subject can be entertained; and without for a moment departing from the policy of order which I have always pursued, I have seen myself, to my deep regret, obliged to separate myself from a Ministry which possessed my full confidence and esteem, to choose another, composed also of honorable men, known for their conservative opinions, but who are willing to admit the necessity of re-establishing universal suffrage on the largest possible base. In consequence, there will be presented to you a bill to restore that principle in all its plenitude, in preserving such parts of the law of May 31 as free universal suffrage from its impure elements, and render its application more moral and more regular." The law of May 31, he says, was originally passed as a measure of public safety, and of course now that the necessity for it has passed away, the law itself should be repealed. Its operation, moreover, has gone further than could have been foreseen. It has disfranchised three millions of electors, two-thirds of whom are peaceable inhabitants of the country. This immense exclusion has been made the basis and pretext of the anarchical party, which covers its detestable designs with the appearance of right torn from it, and requiring to be reconquered. The law also presents grave inconveniences, especially in its application to the election of a President. The constitution requires that two millions of votes should be given for the candidate before he is declared elected, and if no one receives that number then the Assembly shall elect. The law changes the proportion of votes from that originally established by the Constitution. The restoration of universal suffrage is urged, finally, on the ground that it will give an additional chance of securing the revision of the Constitution.--The President says he is aware that this proposition is inspired by his own personal interests, but he says his conduct for the last three years ought to be sufficient to put aside such an allegation. The good of his country will always be the motive of his conduct. He concludes by saying, that, "to restore universal suffrage is to deprive civil war of its flag, and the opposition of their last argument; it is to afford to France an opportunity of giving herself institutions which will insure her repose; it will be to bestow on the powers to come that moral repose which exists only when resting on a consecrated principle and an incontestable authority." Immediately after the reading of the Message, the Minister read the project of a law proposing the abrogation of the law of May 31, 1850, and re-establishing the electoral law of March 15, 1849, by which all citizens 21 years old, and having resided six months in the commune, are declared electors. The Minister, on presenting this law, demanded urgency for its consideration. A warm debate followed, and the urgency was rejected by a large majority. The bill was then referred to a committee, which reported on Tuesday of the succeeding week. The report was very explicit against universal suffrage, and closed by advising that the bill be rejected at once, without passing even to second reading. The matter was then postponed until the following Thursday. On that day, after an animated debate, in which, by agreement, the Republicans were represented by M. Michel de Bourges, the motion was carried by a vote of 355 to 348--a majority of _seven_ against the government. During the debate M. de Bourges asked, "is it not probable that the disfranchised electors will present themselves at the hustings in May, 1852, and with the Message of the President in their hands, declare their determination to vote?" This has been regarded as a hint to the electors to go forward and claim their right to vote.--Another question of very great interest and importance, grew out of a demand of the Quæstors that the troops of the city should be put under their orders for the protection of the Assembly; the question whether the project should be brought under consideration or not, came up on the 10th of November. The project as presented by the Quæstors, M. Baze, Gen. Leflo, and one other, defined the right in such a manner as to make the power of the Assembly over the troops direct--without the intervention of the War Office or of the Executive. The question was discussed with great warmth, and for part of the time amidst the greatest confusion and clamor. The vote was finally taken, and the proposition of the Quæstors was rejected, 408 to 300.--A large number of officers of the army recently presented themselves at the Elyssée and were received by the President in a speech that created great excitement. He said he was sure he could depend upon their support, because he should demand nothing that did not accord with his right, recognized by the Constitution, with military honor, and with the interest of the country; because he had placed at their head officers who had his confidence, and who merited theirs; and because he should not do as other governments had done, ask them to march on and he would follow; but he would say, "I march, follow me." The speech created great commotion throughout all political parties.--General uneasiness is felt as to the result of the political struggle in France. The votes upon the propositions mentioned above were not party votes, but seemed to be the result of ever changing alliances and combinations. The hostility which burst out against the President upon the first publication of his Message, had in some degree subsided, or rather it had been directed against M. Thiers. It is universally felt that, whether peacefully solved or not, the election in May can not fail to have a most important influence upon European politics.

On the 25th of November, the President made a brief but significant speech, on distributing to the manufacturers the prizes they had won by the articles exhibited at the World's Exhibition. After expressing his satisfaction at the proofs of French genius and skill which had been afforded at the Exhibition, he proceeded to speak of the check upon industry which the continued machinations of evil men in France could not fail to create. On the one hand France was disturbed by demagogical ideas, and on the other by monarchist hallucinations. The former disseminate every where error and falsehood. "Disquietude goes before them, and deception follows them, while the resources employed in repressing them are so much loss to the most pressing ameliorations and to the relief of misery. The schemes of monarchists impede all progress, all serious labor, for in place of an advance the country is forced to have recourse to a struggle. The efforts of both, however, will be in vain." And the President exhorted the manufacturers to continue their labors. "Undertake them without fear, for they will prevent the want of occupation during the winter. Do not dread the future; tranquillity will be maintained, come what may. A Government which relies for support on the entire mass of the nation, which has no other motive of action than the public good, and which is animated by that ardent faith which is a sure guide even through a space in which there is no path traced, that Government, I say, will know how to fulfill its mission, for it has in it that right which comes from the people, and that force which comes from God." This speech created a profound sensation, and elicited general discussion.--The _Constitutionnel_ created a universal excitement by an article proclaiming the existence of a Monarchical conspiracy, and menacing that section of the Assembly with instant seizure and imprisonment upon the first movement toward the accomplishment of their plans. The editor, A. Granier de Cassagnac, was denounced in very violent terms by M. Creton, an Orleanist deputy, who was challenged therefor. He refused, however, to take any notice of it, when he was posted as a coward by Cassagnac.

ERNEST, King of Hanover, died at his palace in Herrenhausen, on the 18th of November, at the age of 80, and after a reign of thirteen years. He was the fifth and last surviving son of George III., and was born at Kew, England, on the 5th of June, 1771. In 1790 he entered the army, and served in the European wars which followed. In 1799 he was created Duke of Cumberland, Earl of Armagh, and Duke of Teviotdale, with a Parliamentary grant of £12,000 per annum. He continued to live in England until the death of William IV., when he became King of Hanover. His reign has not been marked by any great events. He was always an ultra champion of privileged classes, and made himself very prominent in England as the enemy of Catholic emancipation, and reform measures of all sorts.

In SWITZERLAND, the recent election has resulted in the return of nearly all the members of the present Federal Assembly, especially in the German Cantons. The radicals have a decided majority--contrary to the expectations that had been very generally entertained. The new Assembly was to meet on the 1st of December in order to elect the federal government.

The character of the justice administered in Austria is strongly illustrated by a notification in a Venice gazette. Count Agostino Guerrieri, of Verona, lately of the Austrian Hussars, was convicted of having received an anonymous letter from revolutionary parties, and of not giving it up to the authorities; the verdict against him was that he was guilty of high treason, and for this he was sentenced to ten years' imprisonment in a fortress. Baron Lutti was convicted of having advised him to burn the letter, and for that offense he was sentenced to imprisonment for two years.

From SOUTHERN and EASTERN EUROPE there is no news of special interest. In Austria financial necessities are creating general anxiety. The credit of the country does not prove sufficient to effect needed loans. General dissatisfaction, moreover, still prevails in Hungary, and many of the Hungarian regiments evince a disposition to take sides with their country rather than their employers.--In ITALY the country is apparently quiet, but a very thorough and effective organization has been effected for a new revolutionary movement, whenever a proper opportunity shall be presented.--The peace of Europe is generally supposed to depend upon the French election in May next; but it is not easy to see by what result general peace can be preserved.

EDITOR'S TABLE.

The year comes round with such perfect uniformity that we find it hard to realize how there could ever have been any great difficulty in settling either its true boundaries or its internal divisions. Any body, it seems to us, could make an almanac, as far as the calendar is concerned. Such might be the first thought, even of persons who could not justly be charged with a lack of general intelligence. But let them think again, and they will rather find cause to wonder at the immense amount of observation involved in the process of gathering, age after age, the elements of a computation apparently so simple.

Had the seasons been so strikingly marked that the transition from one to the other had been instantaneous, or had the lesser sections of time been so contrived, in the Divine wisdom, as to be exact divisors of the greater, there would have been no difficulty whatever in the problem. But the Author of nature has not made it so easy for us. Twelve moons fall short of the year; thirteen exceed it. Any monthly division, therefore, founded on the revolutions of the satellite, must require, after the lapse of a few years, an addition, or a subtraction, of a certain period, to make the seasons come round again in harmony.

The first men, unquestionably, soon learned to note the general revolution by the return of the same seasons. The earliest agricultural operations would necessitate similar estimates, and thus a general notion of the year would be arrived at without an exact knowledge of the precise number of days contained. Hence, in all languages, some such idea has entered into the name. The year is that which comes, and _comes again_. In Greek (if our readers will pardon a little display of learning which we have picked up for the occasion) it is [Greek: eti "ETOS" heteros] _another_ and YET _another_. In the Hebrew it is _repetition_. In our own, and the northern tongues generally, the word in all its forms (_year_, _gear_, _jahr_, _jaar_, &c.) ever denotes a _course_ (_currus_) or _circle_.

Another mode was by rude astronomical observations, which must have been resorted to in the very earliest periods. For a good portion of the year, the sun was seen to come regularly north. Then he remained apparently stationary; and then, slowly _turning_, made his retreat again to the southern limit, there to perform the same movement--and so on without interruption or variation. Hence the word _tropic_, signifying the _turning_, and of which St. James makes so sublime and beautiful a use when he tells us (James i. 17) that the Unchangeable Spiritual Sun, or "Father of Lights," has no _parallax_[6] and no "_shadow of turning_," or _tropical shadow_, as it should be rendered, referring to the mode of determining the period of _turning_ by the shortest shadow cast by a perpendicular object. Still all this was merely an approximation to the length of the year, but with errors which only repeated observations could correct. By taking, however, a large number of these self-repeating repeating phenomena for a divisor, and the whole number of carefully ascertained days for a dividend, the error in each case would be diminished in an inverse ratio; so that we should not wonder that the number of three hundred and sixty-five days was fixed upon at quite an early period.

[6] The word parallax, or "_parallage_," here must refer to the sun's declination north and south of the equator. We have no reason for supposing that the ideas connected with the term in modern astronomical science were at all known to the Apostle. It may, however, be taken generally, for any deviation from one unchangeable position, and, in such a sense, preserve all the beauty and sublimity of the metaphor.

Such estimates, too, were aided by collateral observations of the stars. Let any one look out upon the heavens some clear night at the commencement of the year, and he can not help being struck with the position as well as the brilliancy of certain constellations. Over head are the Pleiades, the lone Aldebaran, Perseus, and Capella. Coming up the eastern sky are Orion, Gemini, Sirius, the Lesser Dog. Descending in the western are Andromeda, Pegasus, Capricornus, the Southern Fish. While low down toward the setting horizon are the Harp, the Eagle, and the Swan. Two weeks later, at the same time in the evening, he will find them all farther westward. In a month the change will be still more marked. After three months, those that before were just rising are on the meridian, and those that were then on the meridian are now setting. In six months, an entirely new host of stars will adorn the firmament, and at the end of a year, all the same phenomena will be found to have come round again. Our minuteness of detail may seem like trifling in an age so scientific as this; but it is astonishing how much our science is the science of books, and how little, after all, especially in astronomy, there is of personal acquaintance with the objects whose laws we know so well in theory. How many understand thoroughly the doctrine of transits and parallaxes, and even the more difficult laws of celestial influences, as laid down in scientific treatises, and yet, to save their lives, could not tell us what stars are now overhead, or what planets are now visible in our nightly heavens. They have read of Jupiter, they know the dimensions of Jupiter, and have even calculated the movements of Jupiter, it may be, but Jupiter himself they never saw. They would be surprised, perhaps, to discover, by actual sight, how much, in respect to position and appearance, our wintry constellations differ from those that are visible in summer; although night after night, for years and years, the brilliant phenomena have been passing over their heads, and silently, yet most eloquently, inviting their observation. This should not be so. The names and locations of the stars should ever be a part of astronomical instruction. We should learn them, if only for their classical reminiscences--for the sublime pleasure of having such a theme for contemplation in our evening walks. How easy, in this way, to fill the heavens with life, when we are led to regard them no longer as an unmeaning collection of glittering points, or what is scarcely better, a mere diagram for the illustration of scientific abstractions, but stored with remembrances of the older days of our world--the old religion, the old mythology, the old philosophy pictured on the sky--the old heroes, and heroines, and heroic events, transferred to the stars, and still shining in immortal splendor above us.

But to return from our digression--any one may see how such an observation of the stars furnished a second mode of ascertaining the length of the year. The men of the olden time were driven to this earnest watching of the heavens by an interest, of which, in these days of almanacs, and clocks, and compasses we can form but an inadequate conception. The period of the year was named after the principal star that rose just before, or set just after the sun. For example, when Sirius rose and set with or near the time of the sun, it was called the "dog days"--the only one of these old sidereal measures of time that has come down to us. Another season was under the sway of Orion. It was called the "stormy constellation," and at its heliacal rising, or when, as Hesiod expresses it,

The gentle Pleiads, shunning his fierce pursuit, Sank late in the Ocean wave--

then was the ship to be drawn up into the well-secured harbor, and the sailor for a season to shun the dangerous deep. In the same way the periods of different agricultural operations were assigned to different constellations--some to Arcturus, others to the humid Hyades, and others, again, to the Bull, who "opened the year with his golden horns." From the observed fact of simultaneousness arose, also, the notion of some secret causative influence between the concurrent events. Hence those views of astrology, so early and so widely held among mankind, and which assigned to each event its celestial concomitants, and to each individual man his natal star. Exploded it may have been by the modern progress, but there was nevertheless at bottom an _idea_ of more value than any science, however accurate, that does not give it the first and highest place. It was the thought of the absolute unity of nature, and of the unbroken relation of every part of the universe to every other part--in other words, the sublime idea which the oldest philosophy strove to express by that grand word, Kosmos.

The length of the year, as a whole number, was early known. It was some time, however, before the disturbance created by the fraction began to be distinctly perceived, and still longer before it was reduced to any thing like satisfactory measurement. In the division of the 365 days into monthly periods, lay at first the greatest difficulty. The lunar number was in general employed, not only as the nearest marked divisor, but because the new and full moons were so generally connected with religious festivals whether this arose from convenience of arrangement, or from the idea of some deep religious meaning symbolized by the ever dying and reviving phases of this mysterious planet. We can not, however, help being struck with the superior accuracy of the Jewish, when compared with the confusion and change that prevailed in the Greek and Roman calendar.

No reader of the Bible can avoid remarking its extreme particularity of date. The oldest and, on this account, the most striking instance is in the narration of the flood: "In the 600th year of Noah, in the second month, and on the seventeenth day of the month, the same day were the fountains of the great deep broken up, and the windows of heaven were opened." And so also in respect to its close. There is the same particularity, too, in the date of the Passover, of the Exodus, of the arrival at Sinai, of various events in the wilderness, of the wars and settlement of Canaan, of the building and dedication of the temple, and of the messages of the later prophets. The first would seem to present the most unanswerable proof that the Jewish computation had been derived from an antediluvian science that must have been of a higher kind than we are generally disposed to acknowledge. With all their mathematics, and with some attainments in astronomy to which the Jew could make no pretension, the calendar of the Greeks presents the appearance of far more confusion. Herodotus, after saying that the Egyptians first _found out_ the year, and divided it into twelve parts by _means of the stars_, praises their arrangement (which was probably the same with, or derived from, that of the Patriarchical times) as being much more easy and correct than the division of the Greeks. "The Egyptians," he says, "divide the year into twelve months of thirty days each; and then, by adding five days to each year, they have a uniform revolution of time; whereas the Greeks, for the sake of adjusting the seasons accurately, add every third year an intercalary month" (Herod. ii. 4). By this, however, they seem only to have made "confusion worse confounded." The great difficulty of the Greeks arose from the attempt to do what the wiser Egyptians and Hebrews seem to have abandoned--namely, to divide the year solely by lunar months. By arbitrary intercalations, it is true, they could bring the solar and lunar years to a tolerable agreement, but then, their effect was continually to change the places of the months relatively to the seasons. The periods of intercalation were at first every two years, then three, and lastly four, and eight. In the two latter they seem to have been governed by some respect to the quadrennial return of the great Olympic games, and the Olympiads corresponding thereto. The computation of the year was afterward brought to a still greater degree of accuracy by what was called the cycle of Melon, which, by embracing a period of nineteen years brought the times of the new and full moon to fall again, very nearly, on the same days of each month.

With the Romans it was still worse. Nothing shows how much better they understood fighting than astronomy, than the way they managed their year. Under Romulus it was said to have consisted of only ten months. It is not easy to see how this could be adjusted on any mode of computation, and yet the numerical names, some of which have come down to our own calendar, would seem to present some proof of it. The last month in the year is yet called _December_, or the _Tenth_. In the days of Numa it consisted of twelve lunar months, with a system of intercalation something like that of the Greeks. The two added months were January and February, which, in numerical order would have been Undecember, and Duodecember, or the Eleventh and Twelfth. The year, however, by the clumsiness of these methods, and by the whole matter being left in the hands of the Pontifices who seem to have had little science, and still less honesty, became turned so completely topsy-turvy, that instead of being put at the end, these two new months were finally arranged at the beginning. The first was called January from the great (some say the greatest) Latin deity, Janus, whose original name was Djanus or Di-annus, _The God of the Year_ (similar to the Greek Kronos or Time), and who was most expressively represented with two faces, one ever looking back upon the past, and the other forward to the coming period.

In the hands of the Pontifices the Roman year had again been getting more and more out of order, until, in the days of Julius Cæsar, the first of January had retrograded nearly to the autumnal equinox. This very useful despot determined to take the matter in his own hands, and make a thorough reform; but, as a preliminary, was obliged to have an extraordinary year of 445 days, which was called the _year of confusion_. Before this, there had been, too, a continual neglect of the fraction of a day, although its existence seems to have been known at a much earlier period. Cæsar arranged the months as they now stand, and made provision for the fraction by ordering a day to be added to February every fourth year. This seemed to answer every purpose, until, after the lapse of more than fourteen centuries, it was found that the seasons began to disagree with the almanac, and the religious festivals to fall somewhat out of place. The error was estimated to amount to eleven days; the correction of which was assumed by the Roman Pontifex, but with the aid of a science far more accurate than had been possessed by the Pontifices of the older time. The modes now adopted, for preserving accuracy in future, are known to most well-informed readers, so that we shall not dwell upon them farther than to say, that they consist generally in such omissions of the leap year, from time to time, as will correct the very small excess by which a quarter of a day exceeds the actual fraction of the tropical year.

"And God said--Let there be lights in the firmament of Heaven, and let them be for days, and for years, and for times, and for seasons." It requires some thought before we can fully realize how much we are indebted, morally and mentally, as well as physically, to these time-measuring arrangements. We must place ourselves in the condition of the savage before we can know how much of our civilization comes from the almanac, or, in other words, our exact divisions of time aiding the idea and the memory--thus shaping our knowledge, or thinking, and even our emotions, so as to make them very different from what they might have been, had we not possessed these regulators of our inner as well as our outer man. How unlike, in all this, must be the life of the untaught children of the forest! Let us endeavor to fancy men living from age to age without any known length or divisions of the year--no lesser or greater periods to serve as landmarks, or, rather, sky-marks, in their history--and, therefore, without any possibility of really having any history. Summer and winter come and go, but to the savage all the future is a chaos, and all the past is

With the years beyond the flood,

unmarked by any intervals which may give it a hold upon the thoughts or the memory. The heavenly bodies make their monthly, and annual, and cyclical revolutions, but their eternal order finds no correspondence in his chaotic experience. The stars roll nightly over his head, but only to direct his steps in the wilderness, without shedding a ray of light upon the denser wilderness of his dark and sensual mind. The old man knows not how many years he has lived. He knows not the ages of his children. He has heard, indeed, of the acts of his fathers; but all are equally remote. They belong to the past, and the past is all alike--a dark back-ground of tradition, without any of that chronological perspective through which former ages look down upon us with an aspect as life-like and as truthful as the present. The phenomena of the physical world have been ever flitting like shadows before his sense, but the understanding has never _connected_ them with their causes, never followed them to their sources, never seen in them any ground of coherence or relation, simply because time, the great _connective_ medium of all inductive comparison, has been to him an undivided, unarranged, and, therefore, unremembered vacancy. Hence it is, he never truly learns to think, and, on this account, never makes progress--never rises of himself from that low animal state to which he may once have fallen, in his ever downward course from the primitive light and truth. Æschylus, in the Prometheus, makes such to have been the first condition of mankind. But, however false his theory in this respect--opposed as it is to the sure teachings of revelation--nothing can be truer to the life than the fancy picture he has given us--

No sure foreknowing sign had they of winter, Nor of flowery spring, or summer with its fruits. Unmarked the years rolled ever on; and hence _Seeing, they saw not_; hearing, they heard in vain. Like one wild dream their waste unmeasured life, Until I taught them how to note _the year_ By signal stars, and gave them _Memory_, The active mother of all human science.

* * * * *

THE PULPIT and the PRESS--the past and the present, the rising and the waning power, would be to some minds the first idea suggested by such a collocation of terms. But we trust the time has not yet come for the actual verification of any such contrast. Far be it from us to underrate the value of the very instrument through which we seek to instruct and reform the public mind; but woe to the land and to the age in which such an antagonism shall ever be realized. The Press is man's boasted means for enlightening the world. The Pulpit is Heaven's ordinance; and sad will it be for the Church, and sadder still for the State, when any other power on earth challenges a superiority, either in rank or influence. The clergy can safely occupy no inferior place; and such is their position, unless they are ever in advance of the age, not in the common cant of a superficial doctrine of progress, but as champions of the eternal and _immovable_ truths, while they are, at the same time, contending in all the fields, whether of theology, or science, or literature, or philosophy, in which there may be an enemy to be subdued, or a victory won for Christ. Such rank, we believe, may still be claimed for the Church. In former centuries she had neither antagonist nor rival. Now has she hosts of both. Yet are her servants still in the "fore-front of the hottest battle." Philosophy and science are swelling loud and long the note of triumph, and yet it is still true, even in a period the most thoroughly secular the world has ever known since the days of the Apostles, that the highest efforts of mind are connected, as ever, with the domain of theology. Science, literature, and even politics, find their most profound interest for the human soul when the questions they raise lie nearest to her sacred confines, and connect themselves with that "faith which is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen." What true worth in any problem in philosophy, in any discovery in science, the moment it is once conclusively settled, beyond a peradventure, that man has no hereafter? What becomes of art, and poetry? What meaning in "progress," and "ideas," and the "_rights of man_?" But it is this dread though all-conservative idea of a hereafter, which it is the office of the Pulpit ever to keep before the human soul, not as a lifeless dogma for the understanding, but in all those stern relations to a higher positive law, which shall ever prevent its coalescing with a frivolous creed in theology, or any boasting philosophy of mere secular reform. In doing this, there is needed for the Pulpit, first of all, and above all, the most intense seriousness of spirit, secondly the most thorough knowledge of the Scriptures, and thirdly, learning, science, and philosophy, fully equal to any thing that may be brought to cope with it in its unyielding strife for the dominion of the world.

In urging this, however, we should never forget, that while the power of the periodical Press is often unduly enhanced by a falsely coloring medium of estimation, the glory and influence of the Pulpit are diminished by a similar cause. Apparent variety of topic, an apparent freshness in the mode of treatment, a skillful adaptation to the ever varying excitements of the hour, all aided by the ceaseless craving in the human soul for mere intellectual novelty, give to the one an appearance of superiority it does not really possess, while, in respect to the other, the necessary repetition of the same great truths, from age to age, has produced just the contrary effect.

There is no way, therefore, in which we can better employ the imagination than in helping us to get away from such a false and blinding influence. How would the mightiest minds of the ancient world now estimate the two prime powers of which we are speaking. Let us imagine Cicero, or Aristotle, to be permitted to revisit the earth, and study its new modes of thought as they would strike them from their old and, therefore, unbiased point of observation. Lay before them all the wonders of the modern newspaper press. They would doubtless be startled with many things it would reveal to them in the discoveries of modern physical science. But take them in those wide fields of thought in which mere physical discovery avails not to give superiority, and we may well doubt whether they would yield to us that triumph we so loudly claim. There is nothing in any modern declamation on the rights of men, or rights of women, that would make Aristotle ashamed of his _Politica_. Cicero might hear discussed our closest questions of social casuistry, yet think as proudly of his _Offices_, and his _Republic_, as he ever did while a resident upon earth. No modern political correspondence would make him blush for his Letters to Brutus and to Atticus. The ablest leader in any of our daily journals, would not strike them as very superior, either in thought or style, to what might have been expected from a Pericles, a Cleon, an Isocrates, or a Sallust. Our profoundest arguments for and against foreign intervention might, perhaps, only remind him of the times when democratic Athens was so disinterestedly striving to extend her "liberal institutions," and aristocratic Sparta, with just about equal honesty, was gathering the other Hellenic cities to a crusade in favor of a sound conservatism. Modern Europe, with its politics, would be only Greece on a larger scale; and our own boasts of universal annexation might only call up some sad reminiscences of the olden time, when "the masses" did their thinking through the sophist and the rhetorician, instead of the lecturer and the press.

But now let fancy change the scene from the reading room to the ministrations of the Christian temple. To present the contrast in its strongest light, let it be the humblest church, with the humblest worshipers, and the humblest preacher of our great city--some obscure corner which the literary and editorial lights of the age might regard as the last place in which there could be expected any thing original or profound. Yes--the poorest sermon of the poorest preacher in New York could hardly fail to strike the great Roman, and the greater Greek, with an awe which nothing of any other kind in the modern world could ever inspire. What wondrous truths are these, and whence came they! Whence this doctrine of eternal life, so far beyond what we ever dared to think--this preaching of "righteousness, temperance, and a judgment to come," so far transcending all the ancient moralists had ever taught! Whence these new and startling words, these superhuman ideas of grace, of prayer, of redemption, of a new and heavenly birth! And then again, the sublimity of that invocation--the heavenly thought, and heavenly harmony, of that song of praise and love! All is redolent of a philosophy to which our most rapt contemplations never ventured to ascend. Even the despised hymn-book may be soberly supposed to fill their souls with an admiration that Dryden and Shakspeare might fail to inspire. How transcendent the conceptions on every page! How far beyond all ancient or modern poetry that is alien to its spirit, or claims no kindred with its celestial origin. Here, indeed is progress. But we must close our sketch. Is the picture overdrawn? Or have we truthfully presented the highest although, in spirit, the least acknowledged aspect of the real superiority of the modern mind--even the humblest modern mind--over the proudest intellects of the ancient world?

EDITOR'S EASY CHAIR.

Between CONGRESS, KOSSUTH, and CHRISTMAS--an alliterative trio of topic--we hardly know where to find the handle of a single other moving hammer of gossip. The hunt for chit-chat is after all a very philosophical employ; and we do not know another _colaborateur_, in the whole editorial fraternity, who has smacked the turbulence of congressional debaters, the enthusiasm of the Hungarian Patrick Henry, and the _cadeaux_ of our _Noel_, with more equanimity and composure than ourselves.

Our chair, as we have hinted, is an easy one; and throwing ourselves back into its luxurious embrace, we have raced through the swift paragraphs of morning journalism, or lingered, as is our wont, upon the piquancy of occasional romance, with all the gravity of a stoic, and all the glow of Epicurus. We are writing now, while the street and the salon are lighted up with the full flush of the Hungarian enthusiasm. It amounts to a frenzy; and may well give to the quiet observer a text on which to preach of our national characteristics.

And _firstly_, we are prone to enthusiastic outbursts, we love to admire with an ecstasy; and when we do admire, we have a pride to eclipse all rivals in our admiration. We doubt if ever at Pesth, in the best days that are gone, or that are to come, of Hungarian nationality, the chief of the nation could receive more hearty and zealous plaudits than have welcomed him upon our sunny Bay of New York. A fine person, an honest eye, and an eloquent tongue--pleading for liberty and against oppression--stir our street-folk--and we hope in Heaven may always stir them--to such enthusiasm as no Paris mob can match.

But, _secondly_--since we are speaking sermonwise--our enthusiasm is only too apt to fall away into reaction. We do not so much grow into a steady and healthful consciousness of what we count worthy, as we leap to the embrace of what wears the air of worthiness; and the very excess of our emotion is only too often followed by a lethargy, which is not so much the result of a changed opinion, as of a fatigue of sentiment. Whether this counter-action is to follow upon the enthusiasm that greets the great Guest, we dare not say. We hope--for the sake of Hungary, for the sake of Liberty, and for the sake of all that ennobles manhood--that it may not!

_Thirdly_, and finally, as sermonizers are wont to say, we are, at bottom, with all our exciting moments, and all our fevers of admiration, a very matter-of-fact people. We could honor Mr. Dickens with such adulation, and such attention as he never found at home; but when it came to the point of any definite action for the protection of his rights as an author, we said to Mr. Dickens, with our heart in his books, but with our hands away from our pockets, "we are our own law-makers, and must pay you only in--honor!"

How will our matter-of-fact tendencies answer to the calls of Kossuth? We are not advocates or partisans--least of all--in our EASY CHAIR: we only seek to chisel out of the rough block of every day talk, that image of thought which gives it soul and intent.

That the enlarged ideas of Kossuth--independent of their eloquent exposition from his lips--will meet with the largest and profoundest sympathy from the whole American people, we can not have a doubt. Nor can we doubt that that sympathy will lend such material aid, as was never before lent to any cause, not our own. But the question arises, how far such sympathy and individual aid will help forward a poor, down-trodden, and distant nation, toward the vigor of health and power. Sympathies and favoring opinion may do much toward alleviating the pains of wounded hearts and pride; they may, by urgency of expression, spread, and new leaven the whole thought of the world; but he is a fast thinker who does not know that this must be the action of time.

We can not but believe that the strongest sympathy, and the most generous proffers of individual aid will, after all, help very little toward practical issues, in any new endeavor of Hungary to be itself again. Poor Poland is a mournful monument of the truth of what we say. How then is our great Guest to derive really tangible aid in the furtherance of what lies so near his heart?

We pose the question, not for political discussion, but as the question which is giving a slant to all the talk of the town. To break peace with Austria and with Russia, and openly to take ground, as a government, with the subdued Hungarians, is what very few presume to hint--much less to think soberly of. The great Hungarian, himself, would hardly seem to have entertained such a possibility. We suppose his efforts rather to be directed toward the enkindling of such a large love of liberty, and such international sympathy among all people who are really free, as shall make a giant league of opinion, whose thunders shall mutter their anathemas against oppression, in every parliament and every congress; and by congruity of action, as well as congruity of impulse, fix the bounds to oppression, and fright every tyrant from advance--if not from security.

In all this we only sketch the color of the Hungarian talk.

* * * * *

Winter gayeties, meantime, have taken up their march toward the fatigues of spring. Furs, and velvet mantillas float along the streets, as so many pleasant decoys to graver thought. The opera, they say, has held its old predominance, with a stronger lift than ever, in the fashion of the town. Poor Lola Montes, shadowed under the folds of the Hungarian banner, has hardly pointed the talk of an hour. We can not learn that any triumphal arch graced the entry of the Spanish Aspasia, or that her coming is celebrated in any more signal way, than by the uncorking of a few extra bottles of Bavarian beer. That many will see her if she dances, there can hardly be a doubt; but that many will boast the seeing her, is far more doubtful. We can wink at occasional lewdness at home, but when Europe sends us the queen of its lewdness to worship, we forswear the issue, and like Agamemnon at the sacrifice of Iphigenia--hide our faces in our mantles.

We observe that our usually staid friend M. GAILLARDET, of the _Courrier_, records in one of his later letters, an interview with the witching LOLA; and it would seem that he had been wrought upon to speak for her an apologetic word. With all respect, however, for the French Republican, we think it will need far more than his casual encouragement, to lift the Bavarian countess into the range of American esteem.

Speaking of the French Republic, we can not forbear putting in record a little episode of its nice care for itself. M. DUMAS, the favorite dramatist, publishes a letter in one of the Paris journals, in way of consolation for the imprisoned editor of the _Avenement_.

"My dear Vacquerie," he says, "while I am on the lookout for sundry notices of what may touch the honorable institution of our Press censorship, I send you this fact, which is worthy to stand beside the official condemnation of the verses of VICTOR HUGO. M. GUIZARD, the director in such matters, has refused me, personally, the request to reproduce my _Chevalier de la Maison Rouge_; and the reason is, that my poor play has contributed to the accession of the Republic!"

Ever yours, "A. DUMAS."

We are only surprised at the audacity of M. DUMAS, in giving publicity to such a note.

* * * * *

As a curious and not unnatural issue, growing out of the free appropriation of Italian treasure, by the French Republicans of the last century, we notice the fact, that a certain Signor BRASCHI, whose father, or grandfather, was a near connection of Pope Pius VI., has recently laid claim to some of the most valuable pictures in the Louvre. It appears from his representations--supported by voluminous documentary evidence--that these objects pertained to a certain villa near Rome, occupied at the time of the French invasion by the Braschi family.

Signor BRASCHI, in quality of heir, now claims the spoils, including some of the most brilliant works of the Paris gallery. He avows his willingness, however, to waive his rights, in consideration of a few millions of francs, to be paid within the year. We have a fear that the only reparation the Republic will bestow, will be the offer of an airy apartment in the _Maison des Fous_.

* * * * *

Keeping to Paris gossip, for want of any thing special in that way belonging to our own capital, we find this little half-incident chronicled in the French papers.

Ladies, it is known (or if not known may hence forth be known) traffic in the funds at the Paris Exchange, in a way that would utterly amaze our princesses of the salon. You do not indeed see them upon the marble floor of the stately _Bourse_ itself, but at the hour of "the board," you are very sure to see a great many luxurious-looking little carriages drawn up in the neighborhood, and a great many ladies, at that special hour, are particularly zealous in their admiration of the old paintings which the dealers behind the Exchange, offer "at a bargain." Very quick-running footmen are also stirring, and report sales and offers to their mistresses with most commendable activity.

Among these outsiders, some Paris romancist has remarked lately a very elegantly-dressed lady, who, three times a week, drew up her phaeton opposite the doors of the Vaudeville Theatre (which all _habitués_ will remember, is just opposite the Bourse). Chance passers imagined her to be some actress of the boards, and gazed at her accordingly. But it was observed that an "agent de change" made repeated visits to her little phaeton, and at the closing of the board our lady disappeared down the Rue Vivienne.

Upon a certain day--no matter when--the bystanders were startled by piercing shrieks issuing from the phaeton of "my lady," and all ran, to prevent as they supposed, some terrible crime. Sympathy proved vain; and to the inquiries of the police the "man of business" only made phlegmatic reply, that the funds had fallen some ten per cent., and "my lady" was ruined.

Three days after, and the phaeton was a _voiture de remise_ in the Rue Lepelletier. The coachman had negotiated the sale, but all tidings of "my lady" were lost.

* * * * *

Guinot, to whom we have been indebted again and again, has twisted out of his brain (we can not doubt it) this little happening of Paris life, which, if not true, is yet as characteristic of France as a revolution.

Two funerals, he says, on a certain day wended their course toward the cemetery of _Père la Chaise_. One bier bore the body of a man; the other, the body of a woman. The day was a sour November day--with the half-mist and half-frostiness that sometimes ushers in the Paris winter. The mourners were few--as mourners at Paris are generally few. Arrived within the gates, one _cortège_ took the path leading to the right; the other turned to the left. The ceremonies being over, a single mourner only remained at each tomb.

At the grave of the lady lingered a man, apparently overcome with grief; at the grave of the man--a lady, who seemed equally overcome. Their adieus were lengthened at the graves until all the attendants had disappeared. By chance, the grief of the two parties seemed to show the same amount of persistent sorrow, and of lingering regard: thus it happened that in retracing their slow and saddened steps toward the main entrance, they met in the grand alley face to face. They exchanged a look of sorrow, and an exclamation of surprise.

"You, madame?"

"_Vous, monsieur?_"

"But this is very strange," continued the gentleman, "is it not? We have met so rarely, since we broke our marriage contract ten years ago!"

"The chance which has led me here is a very sad one, monsieur," and madame says it in very dolorous tones.

"It is as much for me; I have followed to the grave a person very dear to me."

"Ah," returns madame, "she is dead! I, too, have lost my dearest friend," and she sobs.

"I beg you would accept, madame, my sincerest sympathy."

"And you too, sir; believe me, my heart bleeds for you."

Upon thus much of mournful interchange of grief, supervenes a silence--only broken by the low steps of the parties, and by occasional sobs of lament.

Guinot opens their conversation again thus:

_Gentleman._--"Alas, existence seems to me very worthless--all is dark!"

_Lady._--"Ah, what must it be for me, then?"

_Gentleman._--"How can I ever replace her fondness?"

_Lady._--"To whom can I confide my griefs?"

_Gentleman._--"What home will now receive me?"

_Lady._--"Upon whose arm can I lean?"

In such humor our racy _feuilletonist_ traces their walk and conversation along the parterres of that Paris garden of death; at the gate he dismisses one of the two carriages which attend them; he crowns their mutual offices of consolation with a happy reunion--never to be broken--till one shall be again a mourner, and the other a tenant of the tomb.

Thus, says he, grief moralizes; and wise resolutions ride at an easy gallop, into broken hearts!

And thus, we say, French ingenuity makes every hearse the carrier of a romance; and seasons the deepest woe with the piquancy of an intrigue!

Yet another story is swimming in our ink-stand; and with a gracious lift of the pen we shall stretch it upon our sheet.

At Viterbo, which, as every one ought to know, lies within the Italian confines, lived once a poor peasant, with a poor, but pretty daughter, whose name was MARIANNE. She had not the silks of our ladies, or the refinements, so called, of fashion. She wore a rough peasant robe, and watched her father's kids as they wandered upon the olive-shaded slopes of Viterbo.

At Viterbo lived a youth whose name was CARLO. Carlo was prone to ramble; and albeit of higher family than the peasant's daughter, he saw and loved, and wooed and won the pretty Marianne. They were betrothed in the hearing only of the drowsy tinkle of the bells that hung upon the necks of the kids, over which Marianne was shepherdess. To marry they were afraid. He feared the anger of his father; and she feared to desert the cottage of her mother.

Carlo, swearing devotion, went away to Rome and became an advocate. The revolution stirred the stolid Romans, and Carlo enlisted under Garibaldi. After a series of fights and of escapes, Carlo found himself in five years from his parting with the pretty peasantess of Viterbo, a refugee, in the _Café de France_, which stands behind the Palais Royal at Paris. Lamenting over his broken fortunes, and mourning for his poor Italy, he sauntered, upon a certain day, into the Garden of Plants, upon the further side of the Seine. It is a place where the neighboring world go to breathe the air of woods, and to relieve the stifling atmosphere of the city, with the openness and freedom of Nature. (In parenthesis, let us ask, when shall New York civilization reach such a kind provision for life?)

Carlo wandered, dejected, sad, musing of bitterness, when his eye fell upon a face that seemed familiar. It was the face of a lady--in Parisian costume, with a Parisian air--but very like to the pretty peasantess of Viterbo. He followed her--met her--accosted her; there was no mistaking her frighted look of recognition. She was distant and cool--for the fates had bound her fortunes to those of a Parisian _bourgeois_, and she was the wife of the very respectable Monsieur Bovin. Carlo was neither cool nor distant: for grief had cast him down, and now first, hope blessed him with a shadow of the joys that were gone. Madame Bovin's distance wore off under the impassioned addresses of the poor refugee, and again and again Carlo found his way to the _Jardin des Plantes_.

Finally (alas for Paris virtue!) the household of the respectable Monsieur Bovin, was, upon a certain morning, deserted; only a little note of poor French told the disconsolate husband, that the pretty Marianne could no longer subdue her new kindled love for her Italian home, and had gone back to the hills of Viterbo.

The sorrowing husband, though he could not purchase content, could yet purchase the services of the police. Through them, he tracked the runaway lovers to the borders of France. Thereafter the search was vain.

But, alas, for poor Carlo, he was recognized by the myrmidons of the powers that be, thrown into a dungeon, and report tells a story of his death.

As for the pretty peasant, Marianne, she wandered forlorn to her father's home; but the father's home was gone; and now, for menial hire--in her peasant dress (in place of the Paris robes) and with a saddened heart--she watches the kids, upon the olive-shaded slopes of Viterbo!

EDITOR'S DRAWER.

We are at the beginning of another year; a season in which all pause, and "take note of time"--time, the vehicle that carries every thing into nothing. "We talk," says a quaint English author, "of _spending_ our time, as if it were so much interest of a perpetual annuity; whereas, we are all living upon our capital; and he who wastes a single day, throws away that which can never be recalled or recovered:

'Our moments fly apace, Nor will our minutes stay; Just like a flood our hasty days Are sweeping us away!'"

It is well to think of these things, standing upon the verge of a new year. But let us not trouble the reader with a prolonged homily.

* * * * *

Every body will remember the missionary at one of the Cannibal Islands, who asked one of the natives if he had ever known a certain predecessor of his upon the island, who had labored in the moral vineyard there? "Yes, we know him well--we _ate_ a part of him." Now, the "piece of a cold missionary on the sideboard for a morning lunch," of which the witty Sydney Smith made mention, is scarcely a less objectionable dish, on the score of the material, than the chief feature of a repast, held, according to a French journal, not a thousand miles from the Ascot race-course, in England:

"At the recent races at Ascot the famous horse Tiberius broke his leg, by bounding against one of the posts of the barrier, while preparing for the race. His owner, the Lord Millbank, lost ten thousand pounds in betting upon his noble steed, besides his value, and others also lost very heavily: the law, of course, being that all bets should be paid whether the failure to win came from the less speed or from accident.

"Three days afterward, Lord Millbank gave a very sumptuous dinner. The most distinguished of the English peerage were present, and the conviviality ran exceedingly high. Toward the close, the noble host rose in his place, and proposed an oblation to the health of the departed Tiberius.

"The toast was clamorously received, but the speaker remained standing with his glass in his hand.

"'We drink to Tiberius,' said Milord Millbank, when the shouts had subsided; 'to Tiberius the most beautiful, the most admirable, the most spirited courser whose hoofs ever trod upon our glorious British turf!'

"Shouts again resounded to the roof in vehement peals.

"'You know,' continued his lordship, 'the achievements of this horse. His deeds belong to history. Fame has taken charge of his glory. But it belongs to me, and to you, my lords and gentlemen, to do honor to his mortal remains! I wished that this lofty courser should have a burial worthy of his great, his immortal deservings. He has _had_ it, my lords and gentlemen, he has HAD it! My cook has fitly prepared him, and you have feasted upon him to-day! Yes, my lords and gentlemen, this repast which you have relished so keenly--these dishes which awakened the so frequent inquiry, 'What animal could be so delicious?'--that animal, my lords and gentlemen, was Tiberius! It is that noble courser whose mortal remains now repose in your stomachs! May your digestions be light!'

"At these words the enthusiasm concentrated for a moment--possibly with some vague thought of an immediate resurrection--but with a sudden outburst of 'Hurrahs!' the sentiment took the turn of sublimity, and another glowing bumper was sent to join the departed courser in his metempsychosis."

The English papers sometimes get off telling jokes against their neighbors across the Channel, but seldom any thing better than this. Besides, how thoroughly _French_ it is, both in the conception and execution! Its origin could never be mistaken.

* * * * *

We put on record, in these holiday-times of _imbibition_, these warning stanzas, to guard the reader alike against _cause_ and _effect_:

"My head with ceaseless pain is torn, Fast flow the tear-drops from my eye I curse the day I e'er was born, And wish to lay me down and die; Bursts from my heart the frequent sigh, It checks the utterance of my tongue; But why complain of silence?--why, When all I speak is rash and wrong?

"The untasted cup before me lies-- What care I for its sparkle now? Before me other objects rise, I know not why--I know not how. My weary limbs beneath me bow. All useless is my unstrung hand: Why does this weight o'ershade my brow? Why doth my every vein expand?

"What rends my head with racking pain? Why through my heart do sorrows pass? Why flow my tears like scalding rain? Why look my eyes like molten brass? And why from yonder brimming glass Of wine untasted have I shrunk? 'Cause I can't lift it--for, alas! I'm so pre-pos-ter-ous-ly drunk!"

* * * * *

The vagaries of the insane are sometimes amusing to witness; and not unfrequently there is a "method in their madness" that would not be amiss in those who are on the _outside_ of lunatic asylums. Many years ago in Philadelphia, a patient in the insane asylum of that city fancied himself to be the REDEEMER of the world; and his talk and actions were always in keeping with the character, save that he exacted a rigid deference to his person and his divinely-derived power. But one day another patient arrived, whose idiosyncrasy it was, that he was the SUPREME BEING. A little while after his entrance into the institution, he met in one of the halls, as he was passing, the imagined representative of the SON; who, not liking his bearing, reminded him who he was: "Yes, you are the SON, but know from this time henceforth, that you have seen the FATHER, and must obey him!" "And strange enough," said the keeper of the institution to the friend who gives us the particulars, "from that day forward, all power was given unto the latter; and at length the fancied SON'S 'air-drawn' vision melted away, and he left the establishment a perfectly sane man."

Some twelve or fifteen years ago there was in the lunatic asylum at Worcester, Massachusetts, a kind of crazy DAVID CROCKETT, who fancied that he could do any thing that _could_ be done, and a little more. One day a good many visitors were walking slowly through the halls, examining them, and occasionally saying a word or two to the patients. After a very courteous reception of a gentleman, who mentioned that he had come from South Carolina, the crazy man interrupted him abruptly with:

"Have you felt any of my earthquakes down there lately?"

One of the visitors replied: "No, we've had nothing of the kind, where _I_ live."

"I thought so! I knew it!" returned the patient, frowning. "I have an enemy. Ice! ICE! Why, I ordered one of my very best earthquakes for your part of the country! It was to have ripped up the earth, and sent the Mississippi into the Gulf of Mexico. Look here!" he continued, pointing to a crack in the plastering, "_that's_ one of my earthquakes! What do you think of _that_? I've got more orders for earthquakes than I can attend to in a year. I've got four coming off, up north this afternoon--two in Vermont!"

* * * * *

That was a good story that was told of an occurrence which took place in a stage-coach one morning many years ago in the western part of this State. A young, conceited fellow, who had been monopolizing almost all the conversation of the company, consisting of some sixteen passengers, had been narrating the wonderful exploits he had performed, the prodigies of valor of which he had been the hero, and the wonderful escapes of which he had been the subject. At least he related _one_ adventure in which he was the principal actor, which was so perfectly astounding, that a low whistle of incredulity was a simultaneous demonstration on the part of the passengers. An old gentleman, with a solemn visage, and an ivory-headed cane, sitting in the back corner of the stage, here observed:

"That last adventure of yours, my young friend, is a very extraordinary one--_very_ extraordinary. One could hardly believe it without having _seen_ it. I didn't see it; but I can relate a circumstance which happened in my family, and in which I was for a time deeply interested, which is almost as remarkable, and I believe quite as true. Will you hear it?"

"Certainly," said our braggadocio; "I should be very _glad_ to hear it."

"Give it to us! give it to us!" echoed the whole company, getting an inkling, from the solemn phiz of the old gentleman, that something rich was in the wind.

"Well, sir," continued the narrator, "the circumstance to which I alluded is this: My father had three children. He had an only brother, who had also three children. My grandfather had left to my father and my uncle a large estate, in the executorship of which a quarrel broke out, which grew more and more bitter, until at length the aid of the law was invoked, and many years of violent litigation ensued, during all which time the costs of the proceedings were gradually eating up the estate. My father and uncle saw this, and though bitter enemies, they had too much sense to bite each his own nose off. They were chivalrous and brave men, almost as much, probably, as yourself, sir (addressing the daring young gentleman aforesaid), and they determined to 'fight it out among themselves,' as the saying is, and thus keep the money in the family. Well, sir, my father made this proposition to my uncle; to wit: that the three sons of each, in the order of their age, should settle the disputed question on the field of honor; the majority of the survivors to decide the affirmative. It was readily acceded to. My eldest brother went out, on the appointed day, and at the first fire he fell dead upon the turf. My next eldest brother took his station at once, and at the second fire, shot my next eldest cousin through the lungs, and he never drew a whole breath afterward."

Here the old gentleman's emotion was so great that he paused a moment, as if to collect himself. Presently he proceeded:

"It now became _my_ turn to take the stand; and upon _me_ rested the hopes of my family. I can truly say, that it was not so much fear that made my hand tremble and my pistol to waver: it was the deep sense of _responsibility_ that rested upon me. We took our places--a simultaneous discharge was a moment after heard--and, and----"

Here the narrator put his handkerchief to his face, and seemed to shake with irrepressible agitation.

"Well, sir," exclaimed our young Munchausen who had listened to the narrative with almost breathless attention, "well, sir--well?--what was the result? How did it end?"

"_I was shot dead the first fire!_" replied the old gentleman; "the property passed into the hands of my uncle and his family; and my surviving brother has been poor as a rat ever since!"

An uproarious laugh, that fairly shook the coach, told "Braggadocio" that he had been slightly "taken in and done for" after a manner entirely his own.

This anecdote will not be lost upon bored listeners to those who shoot with the long bow, or in other words, stretch a fact until they have made it as long as they want it. We have somewhere heard of a man at a dinner-party who was determined not to be outdone in this but too common species of archery. Some one present had been engaged in attracting the attention of the company to an account of a pike that he had caught the day before that weighed nineteen pounds! "Pooh!" exclaimed a gentleman sitting near him, "that is nothing to the one _I_ caught last week, which weighed twenty-six pounds." "Confound it!" whispered the first fisherman to his neighbor, "I wish I could catch my pike again; I'd add ten pounds to him directly!"

* * * * *

There is something more than mere good measures in the following lines. There is a satire upon Love and Mammon, when the deep affections of the heart reach a greater depth in the pocket:

"Dear friend, I'm glad to meet you here, But scarce know what to say, For such an angel I have seen At your mamma's to-day! Of fairer form than Venus, when She trod the Grecian shore; And then such splendid hair and eyes I never saw before.

"Her air and manners were divine, Above all petty arts; Oh, surely she was formed to reign The peerless Queen of Hearts. Dear Bob, we have been college friends, And friendship's still the same; Now only tell me who she is-- Oblige me with her name.

"'Fine hair and eyes!'--'the Queen of Hearts!' Who can she be?--oh, yes! I know her now--why, Frederick, that's My sister's governess!' Your sister's governess!!--Indeed I _thought_ it might be so; She looks genteel--but still there is About her something low!"

* * * * *

It is not a little amusing, or it _would_ be if it were not rather a serious matter oftentimes, to hear a surgeon who loves his profession talk with another of the "splendid fungus" which he had recently removed, or the "beautiful case of amputation of both arms at the shoulder," which he had just witnessed. A fair travesty of this is afforded in the letter purporting to come from an apothecary in the country to a friend in London, wherein, among other things, he wrote: "My patients are rather select than numerous, but I think the red lamp and brass plate may attract a few. I had a glorious case of dislocation of the shoulder last week, and nearly pulled the fellow in half with the assistance of two or three bricklayers who were building next door. The other doctor tried first, and couldn't reduce it, because he had no bricklayers at hand. This has got my name up, rather. They are terrible Goths down here though. You can scarcely conceive the extent of their ignorance. Not one in twenty can read or write; and so all my dispensing-labels which I tie on the bottles are quite thrown away. A small female toddled into the surgery the other day, and horrified me by drawling out:

"'If you please, sir, mother's took the lotion, and rubbed her leg with the mixture!'

"This might have been serious, for the lotion contained a trifle of poison; but Jack and I started off directly; and as it happened very luckily to be washing-day, we drenched the stupefied woman with soap-suds and pearl-ash, until every thing was thrown off from the stomach, including, I suspect, a quantity of the lining membrane. This taught me the lesson, that a medical man should always have his instruments in order; for if Jack had not borrowed my stomach-pump to squirt at the cats with, a good deal of bother might have been avoided. But he is a clever fellow at heart, and would do any thing for me. He quite lived on the ice during the frost, tripping every body up he came near; and whether he injured them seriously or not, I know the will was good, and was therefore much obliged to him!"

* * * * *

It would be a curious thing, if they could be traced out, to ascertain the origin of half the quaint old sayings and maxims that have come down to the present time from unknown generations. Who, for example, was "DICK," who had the odd-looking "hat-band," and who has so long been the synonym or representative of oddly-acting people? Who knows any thing authentic of the leanness of "Job's turkey," who has so many followers in the ranks of humanity? Scores of other sayings there are, concerning which the same, or similar questions might be asked. Who ever knew, until comparatively late years, what was the origin of the cautionary saying, "Mind your P's and Q's?" A modern antiquarian, however, has put the world right in relation to _that_ saying: In ale-houses, in the olden time, when chalk "scores" were marked upon the wall, or behind the door of the tap-room, it was customary to put the initials "P" and "Q" at the head of every man's account, to show the number of "pints" and "quarts" for which he was in arrears; and we may presume many a friendly rustic to have tapped his neighbor on the shoulder, when he was indulging too freely in his potations, and to have exclaimed, as he pointed to the chalk-score, "Mind your P's and Q's, man! mind your P's and Q's!" The same writer, from whom we glean this information, mentions an amusing anecdote in connection with it, which had its origin in London, at the time a "Learned Pig" was attracting the attention of half the town. A theatrical wag, who attended the porcine performances, maliciously set before the four-legged actor some _peas_--a temptation which the animal could not resist, and which immediately occasioned him to lose the "cue" given him by the showman. The pig-exhibitor remonstrated with the author of the mischief, on the unfairness of what he had done; to which he replied: "I only wanted to ascertain whether the pig knew his 'peas' from his 'cues!'"

* * * * *

Sympathy, we find described on a slip in our "Drawer" to be "A _sensibility_ of which its _objects_ are oftentimes _in_sensible." It may be considered wrong to discourage a feeling of which there is no great superabundance is this selfish and hard-hearted world; but even of the little that _exists_, a portion is frequently thrown away; a fact sufficiently illustrated by two amusing instances, cited by the writer in question:

"A city damsel, whose ideas had been _Arcadianized_ by the perusal of pastorals, having once made an excursion to a distance of twenty miles from London, wandered into the fields, in the hope of discovering a _bonâ-fide_ live 'shepherd.' To her great delight, she at length encountered one, under a green hedge, with his dog by his side, his 'crook' in his hand, and his sheep round about him, just as if he were sitting to be modeled in China for a chimney-ornament. To be sure, he did not exhibit the blue jacket, jessamine vest, pink inexpressibles, and peach-colored stockings of those faithful portraitures. This was mortifying: still more so was it, that he was neither particularly young nor cleanly; but most of all, that he wanted the indispensable accompaniment of a pastoral reed, in order that he might beguile his solitude with the charms of music. Touched with pity at this privation, and lapsing unconsciously into poetical language, the damsel exclaimed:

"'Ah, gentle shepherd! tell me, where's your pipe?'

"'I left it at home, miss,' replied the clown, scratching his head, 'cause I haint got no 'baccy!'"

The "sentiment" was satisfied at once in this case, as it was in the other, which is thus presented:

"A benevolent committee-man of the Society for superseding the necessity of climbing chimney-sweep boys, seeing a sooty urchin weeping bitterly at the corner of a street, asked him the cause of his distress; to which the boy replied:

"'Master has been using me shamefully: he has been letting Jim Hudson go up the chimney at Number Nine, when it was _my_ turn. He said it was too high and too dangerous for me; but I'll go up a chimney with Jim Hudson any day in the year; that's what I will; and he knows it, and master knows it too!'"

Sympathy _was_ rather thrown away in _this_ case, that's quite certain.

* * * * *

Winter is upon us; the biting winds rattle our window-shutters and howl down our chimneys. "Poor naked wretches" tremble in the fierce cold; and homeless, houseless women and children huddle in the alleys and hiding-places of the city. GOD help the poor! Now is the time to remember them. Let the rich recall "poor old Lear," when deprived of his kingdom, and reduced to want, the cold rains beat pitilessly upon his white head, he was forced to exclaim, remembering what he _might_ have done when he had the power, "We have ta'en too little care of this!" Let no disappointment, such as is most forcibly expressed in these lines, add an additional drop to the cup of bitterness which is commended to the lips of the poor of our city:

REJOICE! hope dawns upon the poor; The rich man's heard our prayer; He'll open wide the garner door, And bid us come and share. He feels the bread-seed was not given Alone to swell his pride; But that GOD sent it down from heaven, For all the world beside. Wail! wail! the rich man's word has proved A syren sound alone! He looked upon the wealth he loved; And then his heart was stone!

Oh, would the dull, insensate clod Give forth its yearly store, If our great FATHER and our GOD Had thought not of the poor?

* * * * *

A story has been for many years current, that an eccentric gentleman, of some scientific aspirations, residing on Long Island, not a thousand miles from New York, once induced a thick-set and very green Hibernian to ascend a very remarkably high and spreading tree, near his residence, accompanied by a curious nondescript flying-machine, by the aid of which he was to soar off, and float very softly down upon the bosom of mother Earth! All being ready, the aeronaut started from a platform which had been built in the topmost branches. He "_slode_" over the branches, and then "toppled down headlong" to the ground, covered with the wrecks of his scientific master's flying-machine, and making another wreck of himself. He "heard something drop," and it was a foolish Irishman! When taken up, it was found that he had broken both his arms, a leg, dislocated a shoulder, and otherwise seriously injured himself. Being long ill, at his employer's cost and charges, the "flying-machine," so signally destroyed, was considered a "_permanent_ investment." This incident, which is really true, reminds us of the story of "_The Flying Cobbler_," an old Irish story, of which we find a record preserved in "The Drawer:"

"When Felix showed himself on the top battlement of the tower from which he was to jump, opening and shutting a great pair of black wings that were fastened to his shoulders, every face in the great crowd was turned up to gaze at him. I thought myself that the tower never looked such a murdering height from the ground as when I looked at the poor devil standing on the tip-top stone, as unconcerned as an old cormorant on a rock, flapping his wings for a flight. At length, by his motions we saw that he was preparing to be off in earnest. The men held their breath hard, and the women began to tremble and cry; and then, all of a sudden, he made a jump off the battlement, and sailed away 'most illigant.' A wild shout of delight arose from the people, but before it had ceased the glory of poor Felix was 'done up.' After two or three flutters, his wings fell flat to his sides, his heels went up, and down he came tumbling like a wild-goose with a shot through his gizzard, plump to the ground! Every body thought that it was all over with him; but when we ran to pick him up, we found him lying on his back, not dead, but groaning most pitifully. We took him up as tenderly as we could, and carried him home, and laid him on his bed. When the doctor came he found that both his legs were smashed. Not a word nor a groan escaped him. After he came to his senses, he lay with his eyes open near an hour; and then, when the doctor was setting one of the broken bones, he tried to raise himself up in the bed, and with the fire dancing in his eyes, he said:

"'Doctor, dear, how long will it be before I'm cured again?'

"'Really,' says the doctor, 'I can't possibly take upon me to say, precisely. 'Tis a bad case, and I don't apprehend that you can be perfectly recovered under three months.'

"'Three months! Oh the devil! what am I to do? Three months!--when I had just found it out!'

"'Found _what_ out, jewel?' said his mother, who was sitting by his bedside.

"'The cause of my failing to-day, mother. The wings were right, but I forgot _one_ thing.'

"'And what was that, Felix?'"

"'The _tail_, mother! If I'd not forgot me _tail_, I could have flew to Ameriky and back again!'"

* * * * *

Now that what is called, or miscalled the "Code of Honor," is falling into desuetude in regions of the country where it was once considered binding, the following laughable burlesque upon the manner in which modern duels are sometimes brought about, and conducted, will doubtless, as the newspapers say, be "read with interest:"

"William Singsmall, Esquire, thought proper to say something very severe about somebody abroad, when the expression was taken up by Mr. Flea, a friend of the insulted party, who happened to be within reach of William Singsmall, Esquire. Mr. Flea waited on Mr. Singsmall, who refused to retract. Ulterior measures were hinted at, and the following series of hostile notes and messages ensued:

I.

"Sir: Understanding you have imputed cowardice to my friend William Singsmall, Esquire, I call on you either to retract, or refer me to a friend. As the matter presses, I beg, on the part of William Singsmall, Esquire, that you will answer this when I return from Paris, where I am going for three weeks.

"Yours obediently, PETER SKULLTHICK."

"_To James Flea, Esquire._"

II.

"SIR: I received your note, and went immediately into the country; but on my return to town you shall hear from me with the least possible delay.

"Yours obediently, JAMES FLEA."

III.

"SIR: I have got your note, and will see about it.

"Yours obediently, PETER SKULLTHICK."

IV.

"SIR: I have waited every day at the club, from ten in the morning until twelve at night, for the last month, hoping to hear from you.

"Yours obediently, JAMES FLEA."

V.

"SIR: My object in writing to you was not on my own account, but on behalf of William Singsmall, Esquire, to whom you have most offensively imputed cowardice, and alleged that you threatened to cane him, while he was hidden in the larder of the club-house."

"You will see that as a man of honor he must take some notice of this. I am going out of town for a few weeks, and as soon as convenient after my return shall be glad to hear from you."

"Yours obediently, PETER SKULLTHICK."

VI.

"SIR: I _did_ go to the club-house with a cane under my coat, for the purpose of pitching into Singsmall. I had the solemn assurance of the porter that Singsmall had entered the club and had not left it; but on searching the house he was not to be found. I can only presume that your friend was under the sink or in the larder, and I therefore can not consider him entitled to any thing better than the severe drubbing I mean to inflict upon him whenever I shall be so fortunate as meet him."

"Yours obediently, JAMES FLEA."

VII.

"SIR: I expected you would have referred me to a friend, and shall wait at the club until I hear from you again--unless I am called away by other engagements."

"Yours obediently, PETER SKULLTHICK."

After this correspondence, Flea sent a friend to Skullthick, who declared he had no quarrel with any one, but only wished his friend Singsmall to have the opportunity of being shot through the body by Flea, whose friend insisted that he (Flea) should fight no one but him (Skullthick). Skullthick, on the contrary, had no quarrel with Flea; but although a married man, was ready to fight Flea's friend, who threw himself into the hands of somebody else, who would have nothing to do with _any_ of them. And there the matter ended!

LITERARY NOTICES.

_Wesley and Methodism_, by ISAAC TAYLOR (published by Harper and Brothers), is one of the most characteristic productions of the author, and on account of its deep reflective spirit, its comprehensive breadth of view, its subtle analysis of psychological manifestations, its acute and independent criticisms of great popular movements, its unmistakable earnestness of tone, and its catholic freedom from sectarian limitations, may be regarded as possessing a greater significance than most of the theological publications of the day. Mr. Taylor's favorite theme of discussion is the philosophical import of the historical developments of religion. Deeply imbued with the spirit of contemplation, he is not a dogmatist, nor a partisan. His own religious convictions are too prominent to allow any hesitation as to their character; but he has divested his mind, to a singular degree, of the influence of personal tendencies, in pronouncing judgment on the object of his investigations. He evidently intends to be impartial--and this is no slight praise--to obtain an uncolored view of the facts which he is considering, to do justice to every trait of excellence, wherever discovered, and to abstain from all indulgence of needless censure, even when compelled to express an unfavorable opinion.

In the present work Mr. Taylor discusses the origin, the progress, the actual condition, and the future application of Wesleyan Methodism, as an instrument, under Providence, for the spiritual elevation of mankind. Regarding Methodism as a divinely-appointed development of the Gospel, acknowledging the hand of God in its rise and progress, holding the character and labors of its early founders in affectionate veneration, and deeming it fraught with momentous ulterior consequences, although temporary in its import, he presents a series of consecutive sketches of its history, depicting the wonderful events which attended its energetic progress, analyzing the causes which impeded its universal triumph, and tracing the conditions of its wide success to the elementary principles in the religious nature of man.

The first, and by far the most interesting portion of the volume, is occupied with a description of the founders of Methodism, including the two Wesleys, John and Charles, Whitefield, Fletcher, Coke, and Lady Huntingdon. Without entering into the minute details of biography, which have been anticipated by Watson, Southey, and other writers, Mr. Taylor gives a discriminating critical estimate of the devoted apostles, to whose zeal and intrepidity England was indebted for the revival of the religious life, at a time when she had far lapsed from the warmth and vitality of spiritual Christianity. John Wesley, in the opinion of the author, has never been surpassed by any general, statesman, or churchman, in administrative skill--in the faculty of adapting himself to the circumstances of the moment, without compromise of his authority or personal dignity. For more than half a century he passed through the most difficult conjunctures with admirable success. His simplicity and integrity of purpose were in perfect harmony with the simplicity of his institution, enabling him to manage with ability what had been devised by skill.

Nor was his personal character less worthy of affection and homage. If he had moved in a private sphere, that of a parish priest for example, his flock would not have been able to find a single fault in their minister. The love and admiration of his intimate friends would only have been a more emphatic expression of the feeling of the little world whose happiness it was to live within sight and hearing of him. His personal virtue was not merely unblemished; it was luminously bright. His countenance shone with goodness, truth, purity, benevolence; a sanctity belonged to him, which was felt by every one in his presence, as if it were a power with which the atmosphere was fraught. It was Wesley's virtue and piety that gave form and tone to his teaching, and his teaching has embodied itself in the Christian-like behavior of tens of thousands of his people on both sides the Atlantic.

Of Whitefield, Mr. Taylor remarks, that the secret of his power over the vast multitudes that he moulded like wax, was a vivid perception of the reality of spiritual things, and the concentrated force with which he brought them to bear on the conscience and imagination of his hearers. His singular gifts as a speaker rested on the conceptive faculty as related to those objects that are purely spiritual, both abstract and concrete; and with him this faculty had a compass, a depth, and an intensity of sensitiveness, never, perhaps, equaled. While he spoke the visible world seemed to melt away into thin mist, and the real, the eternal world to come out from among shadows, and stand forth in awful demonstration. This faculty was by no means that of the poet or the painter, which is sensuous in its material. If it had been of this sort, he would have left us monuments of his genius, like a Divina Commedia, or a Paradise Lost, or a series of Michael Angelo cartoons. The history of Whitefield's ministry is simply this: The Gospel he proclaimed drew around him dense masses of men as soon as he commenced his course; it was the power of religious truth, not the preacher's harmonious voice, not his graceful action, not his fire as an orator, that gained him power over congregations to the last.

In the remainder of the volume, Mr. Taylor considers the primary elements of Methodism, its relations to society, and its position in the future. These topics are discussed with sagacity, and with perfect candor, although not in a manner to command universal assent. Whatever opinion may be formed as to his conclusions, no one can doubt the suggestiveness of his comments, nor the earnestness of his inquiries. The style of this work, which we do not admire, betrays the same intellectual habits as the former treatises of the author. He writes like a man more addicted to reflection than to utterance. He simply records his own musings as they succeed each other in the solitude of the closet, without aiming, at the force, point, and effective brevity of expression, which is necessary to obtain a mastery over the minds of others. He seems to regard language as an aid to his own meditations, rather than a medium of intercourse with his fellow-men. His writings are far more like a monologue than an address. He aims to clear up his own convictions, to reduce them to order, and to give them an outward embodiment, by their visible expression, rather than to enforce them on the attention of his readers. Hence, he is often diffuse, even to languor; and nothing but the vigor of his thought could prevent a wearisome monotony. No one, however, can call in question the originality and genuine earnestness of his speculations; and accordingly, it is impossible to follow their track, without a profound interest, in spite of the defects of his style.

Charles Scribner has published a new edition of _Young's Night Thoughts_, edited by JAMES ROBERT BOYD, with critical and explanatory notes, a memoir of the author, and an estimate of his writings. The editor has performed his task with evident industry and love of his author. His notes are generally brief, and well-adapted to their purpose. In some instances, they dwell on minute and comparatively unimportant points, which might safely be left to the sagacity of the reader. The edition, however, is designed as a text-book in schools, for the study of grammatical analysis and rhetorical criticism, and, in this respect, justifies an attention to trifling verbal difficulties, which would be out of place in a work prepared merely for the library of the adult. As a poet, Young can never become a general favorite. His day, we believe, is past. The prevailing taste demands a more genial, human, healthy expression of feeling--certainly, not of less religious fervor--but one breathing the spirit of serene trust, rather than of morbid gloom. Still, the lovers of his sombre meditations will find this edition convenient and ample.

_Florence_, by ELIZA BUCKMINSTER LEE, is a story of singular sweetness and grace, recounting the history of a Parish Orphan, and filled with charming pictures of domestic life in the interior of New England. "A sketch of the Village in the last Century," is added to the volume, presenting a succession of rural descriptions in a series of familiar letters. Mrs. Lee is distinguished as a writer, for her exquisite taste, her power of graphic portraiture, her love of home-scenes and incidents, and her deep vein of cordial, kindly feeling. These qualities run through the present little work with a mild, silvery brightness, which gives it an irresistible charm. (Published by Ticknor, Reed, and Fields.)

Under the title of _Words in Earnest_, a collection of valuable essays from the pens of several eminent clergymen, has been issued by E. H. Fletcher. The work includes two able discourses on "The Moral Influence of Cities," and an essay on "The Theatre," by Rev. W. W. EVERTS; an admirable appeal to the young men of cities on the importance of "Mental Improvement," by Rev. J. W. ALEXANDER; a sound and instructive article on "The Duties of Employers to the Employed," by Rev. WILLIAM HAGUE; an argumentative essay, maintaining the retributive character of "Punishment," by Prof. ANDERSON; and an eloquent plea for "Children," and for "The Sabbath," by Rev. GEO. B. CHEEVER. The work abounds in salutary counsels, expressed with pungency and force.

_The Captains of the Old World_, by HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT (published by Charles Scribner), is an original and erudite description of several of the chief battles recorded in ancient history, with an estimate of the character and position of the most celebrated commanders. Mr. Herbert is a decided adherent of the modern critical school of history, the principles of which have been applied to Roman antiquities with such admirable effect by the German Niebuhr and the English Arnold. He is no slavish copyist, however, of those authorities, nor of any others, however eminent. His work is the fruit of independent personal research and reflection. A classical scholar of rare attainments, familiar with the language and style of the ancient masters, fortified with learning which embraces a much wider sphere than the subject of the present inquiries, and endowed with an instinctive sagacity of no common order, Mr. Herbert is singularly qualified for the task he has attempted, and has performed it in a manner highly creditable to the soundness of his judgment and the depth of his researches. His comparison of the ancient strategy with the modern science of warfare is so clearly illustrated, and so forcibly reasoned, as to possess a profound interest not only for professional military men, but for all readers who delight in the removal of learned dust from the records of antiquity. He describes the battles which come under his consideration, not rhetorically, but with the paramount desire of accurate statement, though without the sacrifice of picturesque effect. In many cases, where the facts are covered with obscurity, and none but the most cautious inquirer can hope for the attainment of truth, Mr. Herbert displays a nice critical judgment in the sifting of evidence, never seduced into the love of paradox, and if compelled to have recourse to theories, always sustaining them by arguments that are no less powerful than ingenious.

His conclusions in regard to the character of several ancient heroes, differ from the prevailing opinions. His discussions on this point are among the most interesting portions of his volume. He thus summarily disposes of the hero of Marathon: "Much obloquy has been heaped on Athens on his account; much ink has been spilt, and much fine writing wasted thereanent, concerning the ingratitude of that state in particular, and of democracies in general.... But all the outcry in this cause is futile, unjust, and absurd. Miltiades was a successful and victorious soldier: he was rewarded according to the laws of his state to the utmost--he was the first man in Athens. He was a bad citizen, almost a traitor, and all the severity and disgrace of his punishment was remitted in memory of his great deeds past.... As a man, it must be said, he was flawed. Wholly unfitted to be a citizen of a free state, he might command others. But he could not command himself."

Nor does the Great Alexander fare better at the hands of our merciless iconoclast: "If we consider calmly the atrocities committed by his orders and under his authority at Thebes, at Tyre, at Gaza, and the barbarous torments inflicted in cold-blooded policy, alike on the good and gallant Britis and on the brutal and blood-thirsty Bressos--if we remember the unrelenting, if not undeserved slaughter of the high-spirited and brave Parmenion, the ruthless slaughter of the hardy Klutos, who had saved his own life in the desperate melée of Issos--if we recount the woes inflicted on the brave population of a loyal country, fighting in defense of their own liberties, the fearful waste of blood in his reckless and fruitless battles, we shall have no reason to doubt the correctness of the verdict which condemns him as the rashest of conquerors, and the cruelest of all who have laid claim to the much-misapplied title of hero."

We recommend this volume as an admirable specimen of the method of investigating history with the lights of modern criticism. If we can not accept all the author's conclusions, we never cease to admire his frankness, candor, and manliness as a writer. His style is in perfect keeping with his subject, though occasionally careless, and now and then sliding into unauthorized expressions, which can not be excused on the ground of defective culture or taste.

Harper and Brothers have issued an edition of _A Lady's Voyage round the World_, by the renowned female traveler, IDA PFEIFFER. The translation from the German by Mrs. PERCY SINNETT is executed with spirit and with apparent fidelity. Ida Pfeiffer was born with an innate passion for travel. From earliest childhood, her great longing was to see the world. The sight of a traveling carriage brought tears to her eyes. When a mere girl of ten or twelve, she devoured every book of travels on which she could lay her hands. Subsequently, she made numerous tours with her parents, and at a later period with her husband. Nothing could detain her at home, but the care of her children. When their education was completed, her youthful dreams and visions began to haunt her imagination. Distant lands and strange customs seemed to open upon her a new heaven and a new earth. Her age made it not inconvenient to travel alone. Defying danger and privation, she resumed her travels, and has since left scarce a spot of peculiar interest on the globe unvisited. In the volume now published, she describes a voyage to Brazil, with excursions into the interior, a voyage to Canton by way of Tahiti, a residence in China, Hindostan, Persia, Turkey, and other countries of most importance to the intelligent traveler. She possesses a happy talent of portraying incidents and facts in an agreeable manner. Her work is replete with valuable information, while its perpetual good humor, sagacious observation, and sound common sense, sustain an unflagging interest in its perusal.

Charles Scribner has published a beautiful edition of IK. MARVEL'S _Reveries of a Bachelor_, with several admirable illustrations by Darley. Welcome to our quaint, genial, "bachelor," in his holiday costume, destined to shed a new gladness over the new year by his delicious whimsicalities, and his quaint, sparkling, mosaic of fun, frolic, and melting pathos! Welcome with his most fantastic dreams, so cheery and bright, in the midst of the bustling, heartless utilities of the day! We can recommend Ik. Marvel's lifesome, soul-ful pages to all whose spirits are chafed with the wear and tear of this working-day world.

_Aims and Obstacles_, by G. P. R. JAMES. Another production of the most indefatigable of English novelists, whose powers seem to have received a new impulse from his recent change of residence. The scene of this work is laid in England, and like all its predecessors, abounds in lively sketches of character, and charming descriptions of nature. For boldness of invention, variety of incident, and freshness of feeling, it is not surpassed by any recent production of its eminent author.

_Norman Maurice_, by W. GILMORE SIMMS, is the title of a new drama, which can not fail to add to the high literary reputation of its distinguished author. The materials are derived from American professional and political life; not a very promising source, one would suppose, for a work of art; but in the plastic hands of the present writer, they are wrought into a dramatic composition of admirable skill and thrilling interest. The plot is one of great simplicity. A noble-minded and brilliantly-gifted person becomes the object of jealousy and hatred to a crafty, unscrupulous villain. The drama consists in the development of his infernal machinations for the ruin of his enemy, and the ultimate triumph of the latter over his foul and cunning conspiracies. The denouement is effected by an heroic instance of self-devotion on the part of a woman, whose character exhibits a rare combination of feminine loveliness and strength. Mr. Simms has succeeded in portraying some of the darker passions of humanity with uncommon power. His language is terse and vigorous--intense, but not extravagant, and often marked by an idiomatic simplicity that reminds one of the golden age of dramatic writing. We rejoice to notice such an instance of decided success in a branch of literary creation where triumphs are so much less frequent than defeats. (Richmond. Published by John R. Thompson.)

_The Claims of Science_, by WILLIAM C. RICHARDS, is an Anniversary Discourse before the Literary Societies of Erskine College, South Carolina. It sets forth the value and importance of the physical sciences, both as the means of a generous intellectual culture, and the condition of great practical discoveries. The argument of the speaker is sustained with great vigor of statement, and a rich profusion of illustration. Familiar with the varied field of nature, he expatiates on her majesty and loveliness with the enthusiasm of a favored votary. The style of the discourse is chaste and polished throughout, and often rises into earnest and impressive eloquence.

A second series of _Greenwood Leaves_, being a collection of letters and sketches by GRACE GREENWOOD, has just been published by Ticknor, Reed, and Fields. A sincere, genial, thoroughly individualistic production--overflowing with exuberant gayety--though dashed with frequent touches of bitter sadness--often wildly impulsive, but always kindly, human, and hopeful--with occasional specimens of sharp-shooting, though the polished, nimble arrows are never dipped in poison. It will be widely read for its spicy humor, its fine, frolicsome naïveté, its gushing good-nature, and its genuine nobleness of tone, even by those who may now and then wish that she would leave political and social questions to the sterner sex. The same publishers have issued another work by GRACE GREENWOOD, entitled _Recollections of my Childhood_, intended for juvenile readers, and abounding in beautiful appeals to the best feelings of the young heart, illustrated by the reminiscences of personal experience.

M. W. Dodd has published a translation from the German of HILDEBRANDT, of _Winter in Spitzbergen_, by E. GOODRICH SMITH, depicting the frozen horrors of that savage clime. It is a narrative of great interest, and will be read eagerly by young people, for whom it is intended. It is equally rich in attractiveness and in information.

A collection of stories by CAROLINE CHESEBRO', entitled _Dream-Land by Daylight_, has been issued by Redfield in a style of uncommon typographical neatness. The writings of this lady are not unknown to the public, in the isolated form in which many of them have already made their appearance. We are glad that she has been induced to embody them in this pleasant volume, which, we think, will occupy no inferior place in American fictitious literature. We find in it the unmistakable evidences of originality of mind, an almost superfluous depth of reflection for the department of composition to which it is devoted, a rare facility in seizing the multiform aspects of nature, and a still rarer power of giving them the form and hue of imagination, without destroying their identity. The writer has not yet attained the mastery of expression, corresponding to the liveliness of her fancy and the intensity of her thought. Her style suffers from the want of proportion, of harmony, of artistic modulation, and though frequently showing an almost masculine energy, is destitute of the sweet and graceful fluency which would finely attemper her bold and striking conceptions. We do not allude to this in any spirit of carping censure; but to account for the want of popular effect which, we apprehend, will not be so decided in this volume as in future productions of the author. She has not yet exhausted the golden placers of her genius; but the products will obtain a more active currency when they come refined and brilliant from the mint, with a familiar legible stamp, which can be read by all without an effort.--The fantastic, alliterative title of this volume does no justice to the genuine value of its contents, and we hope Miss Chesebro' will hereafter avoid such poverty-struck devices of ambitious second-rate writers.

_Memoir of Mary Lyon_, compiled by EDWARD HITCHCOCK, President of Amherst College, has passed to a third edition from the press of Hopkins, Bridgman, and Co., Northampton. It is a record of a life devoted to a great work of Christian benevolence. Inspired by a lofty sense of duty, possessing an energy of purpose and a power of execution seldom equaled in any walk of life, and endowed with intellectual gifts of a robust, practical character, Miss Lyon was a highly successful agent in the cause of popular and religious education. The narrative of her labors is no less interesting than it is useful and instructive. Her name is held in grateful remembrance in New England by numerous pupils to whose character she gave a powerful impulse for good. The present volume is prepared with the ability of which the name attached to it is a promise. It is an excellent piece of biography, in all respects, and will long hold an honored place in New England households.

_Sixteen Months at the Gold Diggings_, by DANIEL B. WOODS. (Published by Harper and Brothers.) The peculiar value of this work consists in its being an authentic record of the experience of an intelligent and trustworthy writer. In this respect, we have seen no publication on California that is its equal. Mr. Woods is a man of high character and learned education, who was led by ill health to exchange the duties of professional life for the rude toils of the gold-digger. He engaged in his new business with unflinching energy. Becoming a miner among the miners, he had the most ample opportunities to learn their condition, their prospects, their sufferings, and their rewards. He describes plainly what he saw. He borrows no colors from the fancy. His book is a record of hard facts. It introduces us behind the scenes. Eminently free from exaggeration, it shows the hardships by which the gold of California was procured on the first discovery of the placers. Its tendency is to discourage emigration. He would advise those who are tolerably well off at home to be content. At the same time, the California adventurer, who is tempted by the hope of a golden harvest to leave the blessings of Atlantic civilization, will find a guide and counselor in this volume, which can hardly fail to be of essential service. We recommend all prospective gold-diggers to take it with them across the Isthmus or around the Cape.

D. Appleton and Co. have issued an elegant volume of Oriental travels, entitled _The Land of Bondage_, by the Rev. J. M. WAINWRIGHT. It contains the journal of a tour in Egypt, with a description of its ancient monuments and present condition, illustrated by a variety of well-executed appropriate engravings. The work is intended to present an accurate record of the observations made by the intelligent author, without aiming at the brilliant vivacity which has been so much affected by recent travelers in the East. It is a simple, faithful narrative, and makes no pretensions to being a romance or prose-poem. The scenes visited by Dr. Wainwright, comprising the valley of the Nile from Cairo to Thebes, are full of interest. He describes them minutely, and with excellent taste. Uniting a fresh susceptibility to the romantic impressions of the "morning land," with a style of polished classic elegance, Dr. Wainwright has produced a standard book of travels, which merits a cordial reception by the public, both for the extent and accuracy of its information, and the beauty and good taste of its execution.

_The Evening Book_, by Mrs. KIRKLAND (published by Charles Scribner), is a collection of popular essays on morals and manners, with sketches of Western Life, including many of the most agreeable productions of the favorite authoress. Several of them have a sober, didactic aim, but all are marked with Mrs. Kirkland's habitual brilliancy and point. Her discussions of various topics of social ethics are admirable. She exhibits the acute tact of a woman in her perceptions of character, while she presents the fruits of tranquil reflection in a tone of masculine vigor. The spirit of these essays is one of mild, contemplative wisdom, gracefully blended with a love of the humorous, and a spice of perfectly good-natured satire.--A number of beautiful illustrations greatly enhances the interest of the volume.

_The Tutor's Ward_, (published by Harper and Brothers), is the title of one of the most powerful English novels of the season. It is intended to illustrate the great moral truth that the soul's repose is not found in human love; that the immortal spirit can live in love alone; but that human love is only the type of that which can never die. The story turns on two female characters--one a brilliant, gifted, fascinating, bewildering creature, whose heart has been wholly steeped in selfishness, but whose artful nature has called forth the most impassioned love--the other, a being of rare and beautiful endowments, with an intense, loving, devoted soul, in whom passion takes the form of a sublime, almost inconceivable disinterestedness, presenting the most striking contrast to her rival and evil genius. The plot is a heart-rending tragedy; the scenes are skillfully shaded off till they present the sullen blackness of midnight; the whole winding up with terrible retributions and despair. While we do not think the developments of this story are true to nature, we can not deny its strange, irresistible fascinations. It paints an ideal of heartless egotism on the one side, and of generous self-sacrifice on the other, which is psychologically impossible; but this ideal is set forth with so much subtlety of invention, such tragic pathos, and such artistic word-painting, that we forgive the defects of the plot, in our admiration of the skill with which it is conducted.

M. W. Dodd has issued a little volume by Rev. JOSEPH P. THOMPSON, entitled _Hints to Employers_. The substance of it was originally delivered in lectures at the Broadway Tabernacle, but the importance of its suggestions eminently deserves a more permanent form. Mr. Thompson handles the subject without gloves, and shows himself as well acquainted with the customs of trade as with the usages of the Church. His strictures on the prevailing methods of business are forcibly put, and have the merit of being directed against systems rather than against individuals. It is far better, for instance, to point out the evils of employing "drummers" to gain custom, than to inveigh against those who can not deviate from established habits without great sacrifice. Abolish an evil system, and the whole community is benefited; while abstaining from it in single cases is only an individual advantage. Mr. Thompson discusses the whole subject with decision and earnestness, but does not deal in wholesale denunciation.

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_The Collected Edition of_ DOUGLAS JERROLD'S _Writings_, is carrying on in weekly numbers and monthly parts. Jerrold's writing is very unequal, the story and the style sometimes limping tiresomely; but even then detached thoughts and expressions keep up interest, and few pages pass without presenting a good idea or a good joke.

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In announcing a new novel by BULWER, the _London Critic_ remarks: "Certainly, whatever the faults of 'our own wayward BULWER' (as Miss MARTINEAU fondly calls him), a want of industry can not be laid to his charge. What with novels, dramas, epics, Byronics, editorships, pamphlets, parliamenteering, electioneering, and even agitating, when the interests of the drama and literature seem to require it, BULWER is as hard-working a man as any pale or ruddy-bustling compiler in the reading-room of the British Museum. Close beside him in the advertisement columns (though not in life) is Lady BULWER, who also announces a new novel, "Molière's Tragedy: his Life and Times," another of those "literary novels" which Mr. GRAVE lately predicted would soon be rife. Lady BULWER has taken the idea directly from GEORGE SAND, who recently produced, with considerable success on the Paris stage, a drama of "Molière," in which the poet was made the dupe of a heartless coquette. Our English authoress's title is rather lachrymose for the subject; since MOLIERE'S life was by no means a tragic, but, on the whole, a pleasant and successful one."

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We find a curious anecdote of Chevalier BUNSEN in connection with the recently-published Life of NIEBUHR, issued in London, under the superintendence of the Chevalier: The portly and hearty representative of Prussia at the Court of St. James, NIEBUHR, the Roman historian--every body has heard and knows something of him. But every body does _not_ know the special claim that his memory has on BUNSEN; for the latter, though he has risen to be the Minister of Public Instruction and Foreign Representative of a great kingdom, was once (how strangely it sounds in English ears)--not even a calico-printer or a cotton-spinner--but a poor student, NIEBUHR'S humble amanuensis! A prodigy of learning, as unknown then as Mr. THOMAS WATTS of the British Museum Library, in comparison with his deserts, is unknown now. BUNSEN, the story runs, was in attendance on his employer, at that time Prussian Minister at Rome, when the King of Prussia, then Crown Prince, paid NIEBUHR a visit. The conversation turned upon literary matters, and the Crown Prince made a statement which the humble amanuensis, bursting into the talk, took upon him flatly to contradict. Most Crown Princes (and some British commoners) would have flown into a passion. Not so our FREDERICK WILLIAM the Fourth of Prussia. He inquired into the character and history of the plain-spoken youth; found that he knew every language and literature under heaven, from Chinese and Coptic to Welsh and Icelandic; kept his eye on him, and gradually promoted him to be what he is. NIEBUHR'S letters have been published, and some years ago a biography of him, founded on them, was attempted in _Tait's Magazine_, and broke down; but BUNSEN'S will be _the_ life. NIEBUHR was foolish enough to die of the Three Days of July, 1830, being a staunch conservative. As the French would say: _Tant pis pour lui!_

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The Winter Session of the New College, Edinburgh, has been opened, with an introductory address, by the Rev. Dr. CUNNINGHAM, successor of Dr. CHALMERS, as Principal of the College. The institution is chiefly intended as a Theological School, connected with the Free Church of Scotland, but has other Chairs attached, one of which, on Natural History, is held by Dr. FLEMING, the zoologist. On November 11th the Philosophical Institution of the same city was opened for the session by Sir DAVID BREWSTER, who gave an able address. Among the lecturers announced for the season are some distinguished names, and the institution seems to be conducted in a higher tone than is usual in similar places of popular instruction and amusement. HUGH MILLER, the geologist, and ISAAC TAYLOR, author of the "Natural History of Enthusiasm," are to deliver courses of lectures. In the University of Edinburgh, Principal LEE is reading a course of Moral Philosophy Lectures, in room of Professor WILSON, whose illness precludes him from any public duty.

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Madame PFEIFFER'S account of her voyage round the world, says a London journal, a translation of which has just been published by Messrs Longman, is exceedingly interesting, and as full of adventure as the production of the awful Cumming Gordon, of rhinoceros-riding notoriety. When in Brazil, she undertook a long and hazardous journey into the interior, to visit the Puri Indians. She states that many of these singular people have been baptized, and, indeed, "they are at all times willing, for the consideration of a little brandy, to go through the ceremony again, and only regret that they have not more frequent opportunities, especially as it does not last long." Their language is extremely poor, and they have no method of expressing number but by repeating one, two--one, two, as many times as may be required. For yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow, they have only one word, and they express the variety of meaning by "pointing backward for yesterday, forward for to-morrow, and over the head for the passing day." We have noticed Harper's edition of this work in another place.

* * * * *

The late work of Sir JOHN RICHARDSON on _The Arctic Searching Expedition_, now in press by Harper and Brothers, is spoken of with unqualified praise by the London press. We quote a notice from _The Literary Gazette_: "This work affords a glorious instance of genuine, hearty philanthropy. With a self-devotion seldom equaled, and certainly never surpassed, the author of these volumes, at a time of life when most men think seriously of exchanging the cares and anxieties of an arduous profession, or of an official occupation, for repose, adventured forth to the terrible regions of Arctic America, to seek, and, if possible, to rescue a cherished friend. And this was done with no other incentive than friendship, hallowed by former companionship in the same regions, and the social intercourse of many years. With becoming modesty, Sir John Richardson is entirely silent respecting his official and domestic position at the time of his departure on his humane mission; but it is due to him to say, that he left a valuable government appointment, and sacrificed pecuniary advantages, when, taking leave of an affectionate wife and family, he left England in search of his old traveling companion; and though he has been happily restored to his country in unimpaired health and vigor, it must not be forgotten that the journey which he proposed taking, was not only arduous but hazardous, and might have been accompanied by a repetition of the frightful sufferings which befell him during his adventurous and memorable expedition with Franklin in the same country he was about to visit."

* * * * *

A new play by Mr. JERROLD, and one by Mr. MARSTON, are in the hands of Mr. KEAN, for early representation.

* * * * *

Sir James Stephen's _Lectures on the History of France_, republished by Harper and Brothers, are thus characterized by a recent journal: "The distinguishing characteristics of these lectures are an independent criticism, uninfluenced by previous authority, a religious philosophy which traces the effect of moral causes, the knowledge of a man of affairs rather than of a statesman, and a pellucid pleasantry of manner."

* * * * *

Hildreth's _History of the United States_ is now attracting the attention of London readers, and has given occasion to some able criticisms. His imperturbable coolness in the narration of events, excites no little surprise, and most of his judges would prefer a more impassioned tone. Nor, in the opinion of the _London Athenæum_, has he done justice to the character of Jefferson. The merits of the work as an authentic collection of facts, appear to be highly appreciated. The journal just alluded to, says: "On this point, we have to object that JEFFERSON--a man of remarkable powers, and whose spirit has more intimately transferred itself into the heart and hereditary sentiment of the American people than that of perhaps any other American, not perhaps excepting even Washington--does not seem to have received a full enough measure of that appreciation which even Mr. Hildreth might have been able to give him. Jefferson we regard as the type and father of much that is now most characteristic in the American mind; and in any history of the United States he ought to figure largely. We have to repeat that Mr. Hildreth's work is, in its kind, a most conscientious and laborious undertaking--as an accumulation of particulars and a register of debates unrivaled--and therefore extremely valuable to all who wish to prosecute minute researches into the history of the Union, or of the several States composing it."

* * * * *

Herman Melville's last work, _Moby Dick_, or _The Whale_, has excited a general interest among the critical journals of London. The bold and impulsive style of some portions of the book, seems to shock John Bull's fastidious sense of propriety. One of the most discriminating reviewals we have seen is from the _London Atlas_: "In some respects we hold it to be his (Mr. Melville's) greatest effort. In none of his previous works are finer or more highly-soaring imaginative powers put forth. In none of them are so many profound and fertile and thoroughly original veins of philosophic speculation, or rather, perhaps, philosophic fancy struck.... Upon the whale, its mysteries, and its terrors, he revels as if the subject had enchantment for him. He pours into multitudinous chapters a mass of knowledge touching the whale--its habits and its history--the minutest details of its feeding or sporting, or swimming, strangely mixed with ingenious and daring speculations on the mysterious habits and peculiarities of the great brute--the whole written in a tone of exaltation and poetic sentiment, which has a strange effect upon the reader's mind, in refining and elevating the subject of discourse, and, at last, making him look upon the whale as a sort of awful and unsoluble mystery--the most strange and the most terrible of the wonders of the deep. That Herman Melville knows more about whales than any man from Jonah down, we do really believe."

* * * * *

Douglas Jerrold has written a letter, containing the suggestion, that a penny subscription shall be commenced to present KOSSUTH with a copy of SHAKSPEARE'S Works, in a suitable casket. Mr. Jerrold remarks: "It is written in the brief history made known to us of Kossuth, that in an Austrian prison he was taught English by the words of the teacher Shakspeare. An Englishman's blood glows with the thought that, from the quiver of the immortal Saxon, Kossuth has furnished himself with those arrowy words that kindle as they fly--words that are weapons, as Austria will know. There are hundreds of thousands of Englishmen who would rejoice thus to endeavor to manifest their gratitude to Kossuth for the glorious words he has uttered among us, words that have been as pulses to the nation." To this excellent proposal a response has already been made in many quarters. An incident, not mentioned in the daily papers, is worth recording: that among other deputations to the Hungarian President in London, one was to present him with a copy of the Sacred Scriptures, for which many had subscribed. In his reply, Kossuth said how much he had owed, both of counsel and comfort, to the Bible, and that this present he would treasure as the choicest memorial of England. He took occasion at the same time to thank an honorable working-man, unknown to him, who, on his entering Winchester, had come up to his carriage and presented a Bible to Madame Kossuth.

* * * * *

An address to the Hungarian ex-president, from the citizens of Bath, was headed by the signature of WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. His letter, in reply to KOSSUTH'S acknowledgment, is worth recording, as a memorial of one so well known in the world of letters: "Sir--The chief glory of my life is, that I was the first in subscribing for the assistance of the Hungarians at the commencement of their struggle; the next is, that I have received the approbation of their illustrious chief. I, who have held the hand of KOSCIUSKO, now kiss with veneration the signature of KOSSUTH. No other man alive could confer an honor I would accept."

* * * * *

In a notice of SPRINGER'S _Forest Life and Forest Trees_ (published by Harper and Brothers), the _London Spectator_ suggests a singular comparison between the population of England and the United States, as afforded by the social position of the respective countries: "The volume will be found interesting from its pictures of hardship, exertion, skill, and adventure, in a country little known to the English reader even from books. It has also an interest of a deeper kind. It is impossible to look at the willing labors of these men, and to consider them as only a portion of the rural population of the United States, without seeing what a raw material they possess for war or enterprise. It is the tendency of a dense population and a high civilization to dwarf the physical powers and energies of men in two ways--by congregating large numbers of men in cities, and engaging them in pursuits which if not absolutely injurious to health, are destructive to hardihood; and by removing from the face of a country those natural obstacles which call forth energy and readiness of resource. In England, the working agriculturist is the most helpless of men out of his routine, from his having nothing to contend with: the 'navvies,' miners, and mariners, are almost the only classes trained to endurance and great physical exertion in their regular business, except the navy and perhaps the army, as special vocations."

* * * * *

_The London Examiner_ pronounces LAYARD'S abridged edition of _Nineveh_ (just re-published by Harper and Brothers), "A charming volume, to which we may safely promise a circulation without limit, and as unbounded popularity. The great feature of the Abridgement is, the introduction of the principal biblical and historical illustrations (forming a separate section of the original work) into the narrative, which, without sacrificing any matter of importance, _makes the story more compact, useful, and, indeed, complete in its abridged, than it was in its original form_."

* * * * *

Sheriff Alison, the historian, has been re-elected Lord Rector of Glasgow University.

* * * * *

In a recent synodical letter of the Bishop of Luçon, among the books denounced as immoral and dangerous, are Anquetil's "History of France," Thiers's "History of the French Revolution," Lemaistre de Sacy's "Translation of the New Testament," "Le Bonhomme Richard," and, lastly, "Robinson Crusoe!" Facts like these require no comment.

* * * * *

The French papers state that Lord BROUGHAM, in his retreat at Cannes, is preparing for publication a work entitled, "France and England before Europe in 1851."

* * * * *

The extraordinary popularity of WALTER SCOTT in France, is illustrated by the announcement of the publication of another volume of the _twentieth_ edition of DEFAUCONPRET'S translation of his novels, and the announcement of the publication of an entirely new translation of the said novels. If Defauconpret had been the only translator, _twenty_ editions would have been an immense success; but there are besides, at the very least, twenty different translations of the complete works (many of which have had two, three, or four editions) and innumerable translations of particular novels, especially of "Quentin Durward." In fact, in France as in England, Scott dazzles every imagination and touches every heart--whatever be his reader's degree of education, or whatever his social position. His popularity amongst the lower orders, in particular, is so extraordinarily great, that it forms one of the most striking literary events of the present century.

* * * * *

_The Leader_ announces a new work from GUIZOT, with the promising title of _Méditations et Etudes morales_; a novel by the Countess D'ORSAY, called _L'Ombre du Bonheur_; and an important work by GIOBERTI, _Di rinovamento civile d'Italia_, the first part being devoted to the Errors and Schemes of the day: the second to Remedies and Hopes. To those who love pure literature, we know not what more agreeable volume to recommend than the one just issued of SAINT BEUVE'S _Causeries du Lundi_. It contains some of the best portraits he has ever drawn; and a charming gallery they make. We pass from RABELAIS to VAUVENARGUES, from the Duc de SAINT SIMON to FREDERICK THE GREAT, from DIDEROT to the Duchesse de MAINE, from CAMILLE DESMOULINS to Madame EMILIE DE GIRARDIN. The necessity of limiting his articles to the exigencies of a newspaper, has forced SAINT-BEUVE into a concision both of style and exposition, which greatly improves his sketches; and we know not which to admire most, the variety of his attainments or the skill of his pencil.

* * * * *

In History and Biography, European Continental literature has not been doing very much lately. There is a new or newer volume, the eleventh, of THIERS'S _Consulate and Empire_, and a Paris journalist of high repute, M. DE LA GUERRONNIERE commences a promised series of _Portraits Politiques Contemporains_ ("Portraits of Political Contemporaries"), with a monograph of that "nephew of his uncle," the Prince-President of the French Republic. A. M. LEONARD GALLOIS publishes in four volumes, with illustrations, a _Histoire de la Révolution de 1848_ ("History of the Revolution of 1848"), written from a republican-of-the-morrow point of view. SAINT-BEUVE contributes to _The Constitutionnel_ graceful sketches of the lately-deceased Duchess of ANGOULEME, and of RIVAROL, the Royalist pamphleteer and man-of-all-work in the first revolution, famed for the plaintive epigram, "MIRABEAU is paid, not sold; I am sold but not paid," one of the saddest predicaments that poor humanity can find itself in. A. M. COINDET has compressed WARBURTON'S _Prince Rupert and the Cavaliers_ into a handy _Histoire de Prince Rupert_ ("History of Prince Rupert"). The Germans send us the _Leben and Reden Sir Robert Peel's_ ("Life and Speeches of Sir Robert Peel"), tolerably compiled by one KUNZEL, and Italy has produced a new _Life of Paganini_. Worthy of more extensive notice is EDOUARD FLEURY'S _Saint-Just et la Terreur_ ("Saint Just and the Reign of Terror"), a biography of the "great Saint of the Mountain," the fellow-triumvir of ROBESPIERRE, and partaker of his fate, though not five-and-twenty; the fanatic young man who, scarcely beginning life, declared, "for revolutionists there is no rest but in the tomb!" FLEURY is a clever and active young journalist in the department of the Aisne, SAINT-JUST'S birth-country--the same who lately brought out the very interesting "Memoir of Camille Desmoulins," and an equally interesting historical study, "Babæuf and Socialism in 1796." FLEURY has gone about his biographical task in the proper way; roamed up and down the country side, sketching the scenery in which his subject spent "a sulky adolescence," and collecting anecdotes and reminiscences. One of these is worth retailing. An old woman who knew SAINT-JUST well when a boy, pointed out "an alley of old trees" where he used to stalk and spout: when he came into the house, after one of these soliloquies, quoth the old woman, "he would say terrible things to us!"

* * * * *

First in the list of recent French novels is the far-famed JULES JANIN'S _Gaieties Champêtres_ ("Rural Gaieties"), which all Paris is eagerly devouring. The scene is laid in the era of LOUIS XV., and the story (alas!) is worthy of the period, and must not be recited here. More innocent are _Les Derniers Paysans_ ("The Last Peasants"), by EMILE SOUVESTRE, a cycle of graphic, and, for the most part, gloomy stories, meant to embalm the superstitions, which still linger among the peasantry of Brittany, soon to be dispelled by the march of civilization. ARMAND BARTHET'S _Henriette_, though a touching tale, is not to be recommended. ALPHONSE KARR, a writer scarcely so well known out of France as he deserves to be, promises _Recits sur la Plage_ ("Stories from the Sea Shore"). KARR is the only living French novelist who reminds one at all of THACKERAY, of whom he has some of the caustic bitterness, but none of the light playfulness. He first became known by his _Guêpes_ ("Wasps"), a periodical consisting of little, sharp, sarcastic, and isolated sentences, aimed at the quacks and quackeries of the day. With all this, he has a true feeling for nature, which is sometimes, however, carried to an absurd length.

A recent number of the official _Moniteur_ contains a long report to the Minister of Public Instruction, by M. VATTEMARE, on the "literary exchanges" which have recently been effected between France and the United States. It is not, perhaps, generally known that the governments, universities, colleges, scientific societies, literary establishments, medical and legal bodies, borough municipalities, and commercial associations of the two countries, have for years past been in the habit of making exchanges of books. They have thus got rid of duplicate copies which were rotting on their shelves, and have received in return works which it would have cost vast sums to purchase. A more useful arrangement could not possibly be conceived; and at the same time it has the advantage of spreading knowledge, and of increasing the friendly relations between the two peoples.

* * * * *

M. Ch. Pieters has published the "_Annales de l'Imprimerie Elzevirienne_," giving copious details on the life and exertions of the famous printers, the ELZEVIRS. This book is the result of very extensive researches on this subject, as there were fourteen members of that family who were printers and publishers during a period of 120 years. M. Pieters's book contains quite new data obtained from authentic sources; to which he has added a list of all the works issued from the Elzevir presses, followed by one of those which have been erroneously attributed to them, and another of such as are the continuation of works published at that celebrated establishment.

* * * * *

The Paris papers state that the Free Society of Fine Arts in that capital are subscribing for a monument to the Late M. DAGUERRE--who was a member of their body--to be erected at Petit-Brie, where the distinguished artist lies buried.

* * * * *

Henry Heine, the German poet, whom his countrymen insist on comparing with Lord Byron, has published a collection of the poems of his later years, under the title of "Romances." The book, which all the German papers concur in eulogizing, and a large edition of which was sold within a few days after its publication, is divided into three parts, Histories, Lamentations, and Hebrew Melodies. A brief prose notice prefixed announces that the skeptic has become a believer, and hurls defiance at the Hegelians refusing (to use his own words) "to herd swine with them any longer." This celebrated poet, and perhaps the only man who has succeeded in uniting German solidity and grandeur to French elegance and wit, is now languishing on his death-bed. Recovery is impossible, and his state is such that death would be almost a blessing, though in him the world would lose one of the most remarkable geniuses of modern times. In the intervals between the paroxysms of his malady he composes verses, and (being deprived of the use of his limbs and of his eyesight) dictates them to his friends. He also occupies himself at times in inditing memoirs of his life, and as he has seen a good deal of French society, and was a shrewd and intelligent observer, he has much to say. One consequence of his long and lamentable sickness has been to effect a complete change in his religious views--the mocking Voltairian skeptic has become a devout believer.

* * * * *

We see it stated that in the short space of time between the Easter fair and the 30th of September there were published in Germany no less than 3860 new works, and there were on the latter date 1130 new works in the press. Nearly five thousand new works in one country of Europe in one half year! Of the 3860 works already published, more than half treat of various matters connected with science and its concerns. That is to say--descending to particulars--106 works treat of Protestant theology; 62 of Catholic theology; 36 of philosophy; 205 of history and biography; 102 of languages; 194 of natural sciences; 168 of military tactics; 108 of medicine; 169 of jurisprudence; 101 of politics; 184 of political economy; 83 of industry and commerce; 87 of agriculture and forest administration; 69 of public instruction; 92 of classical philology; 80 of living languages; 64 of the theory of music and the arts of design; 168 of the fine arts in general; 48 of popular writings; 28 of mixed sciences; and 18 of bibliography. It is satisfactory to see, after their recent comparative neglect, that science and the arts begin to resume their old sway over the German mind.

* * * * *

The Frankfort journals state that, in consequence of the rigor displayed by the Saxon Government with respect to the press, the booksellers of Leipzig seriously intend to remove the general book fair to Berlin or Brunswick.

* * * * *

In Germany, Austria excluded, appear 746 newspapers; of which 646 are printed in German, 5 in French, 1 in English, 15 in Polish, 3 in Wendish (the Wenden are a Slavonic people in the midst of Germany), 7 in the Lutheran language. In all Europe, according to official statements, 1356 news papers are published, of which 169 are issued at Paris, 97 at London, 79 at Berlin, 68 at Leipzig, 36 at St. Petersburg, 24 at Vienna.

* * * * *

Dr. Augustus Pfizmaier, of Vienna, has published the first part, in ninety-two pages folio, of a Dictionary of the Japanese language.

* * * * *

Baron Alexander Von Humboldt has announced the discovery at Athens of the edifice in which the Council of Four Hundred was in the habit of assembling in ancient times. Few particulars of the alleged discovery are given; but it is added, that more than a hundred inscriptions have been found by the excavators--and that a number of columns, statues, and other relics have been already dug up.

* * * * *

Dr. Hefele's German work on _Cardinal Ximenes_ and the _Ecclesiastical Affairs of Spain_ in the 15th and 16th century, has just reached a second edition.

* * * * *

One of the principal literary men of Spain, Don Juan Hartzenbusch, assisted by the publisher, Senor Rivadencyra, has commenced a reprint of the works of her most distinguished authors, from the earliest ages to the present time. This reprint is entitled "Biblioteca de Autores Espanoles," and it is a more difficult undertaking than things of the kind in western and northern Europe. For as very many of the works of the principal authors never having been printed at all, the compiler has to hunt after them in libraries, in convents, and in out-of-the-way places; while others, having been negligently printed, or "improved" by friends, or disfigured by enemies, have to be revised line by line. Some idea of the importance of this gentleman's labors maybe formed from the fact, that he has brought to light not fewer than _fourteen_ comedies of Calderon de la Barca, which previous editors were unable to discover. The total number of Calderon's pieces the world now possesses is therefore 122; and there is every reason to believe that they are all he wrote, with the exception of two or three, which there is not the slightest hope of recovering. In addition to this, M. Hartzenbusch has carefully corrected the text from the original manuscripts in the Theatre del Principe, or authentic copies deposited elsewhere; and he has added notes, which throw great light on the most obscure passages. Moreover, he has given a chronological table of the order in which Calderon produced his plays. But what, perhaps, is the most curious thing of all is, that he demonstrates that "le grand Corneille" of France actually borrowed, not plots alone, but whole passages from Calderon. His play of _Heraclius_, for instance, has evidently been taken from Calderon's comedy called _En esta vida todo es verdad y todo mentira_. Some of the passages are literal translations.

* * * * *

Daily, about noon, writes the _Weser Zeitung_, the loungers "Under the Linden" at Berlin, are startled by the extraordinary appearance of a tall, lanky woman, whose thin limbs are wrapped up in a long black robe or coarse cloth. An old crumpled bonnet covers her head, which, continually moving, turns restlessly in all directions. Her hollow cheeks are flushed with a morbid coppery glow; one of her eyes is immovable, for it is of glass, but her other eye shines with a feverish brilliancy, and a strange and almost awful smile hovers constantly about her thin lips. This woman moves with an unsteady, quick step, and whenever her black mantilla is flung back by the violence of her movements, a small rope of hair, with a crucifix at the end, is plainly seen to bind her waist. This black, ungainly woman is the quondam authoress, Countess IDA HAHN-HAHN, who has turned a Catholic, and is now preparing for a pilgrimage to Rome, to crave the Pope's absolution for her literary trespasses.

* * * * *

Professor Nuylz, whose work on canon law has but recently been condemned by the Holy See, resumed his lectures at Turin, on the 6th. The lecture-room was crowded, and the learned professor was received with loud applause. In the course of his lecture he adverted to the hostility of the clergy, and to the Papal censures of his work, which censures he declared to be in direct opposition to the rights of the civil power. He expressed his thanks to the ministry for having refused to deprive him of his chair.

* * * * *

We hear from Rome that the library of the Vatican is to receive the valuable collection of Oriental manuscripts made by the late Monsignor Molsa--Laureani's successor.

* * * * *

Two curious instances of the favor that Literature and Art are to receive from the Ultra-montane party on the continent of Europe, have recently occurred. From Paris we learn that a relative of Mr. Gladstone has been excluded from a _cercle_, or club, in that city by the priestly party, because his uncle, the member for Oxford, had the courage to denounce the senseless tyranny of the Neapolitan government! The other instance amounts to the grotesque. It is the case of a young Roman artist, who is banished from Rome for the crime of being called Giovanni Mazzini! The very name of the late Triumvir--it would seem--is about to be proscribed in the Roman States, as that of Macgregor was, in time gone by, in Scotland. To the question "What's in a name?" the Roman government gives a very significant and practical reply.

* * * * *

We learn from Münster, Westphalia, that some fresco paintings of the 13th century have been lately discovered in the church at Seremhorst, near that town, and that a curious specimen of painted glass has been found at Legenwinden. In the chief aisle of Patroklus Church, at Soest, Romanic frescos and statuettes of the 12th century have been discovered, and measures taken to remove from them the coatings of lime and plaster which the fanaticism or the ignorance of former years has heaped on them. It has also been discovered that the Nicolai Chapel, in Soest Cathedral, is entirely covered with very curious paintings of the 12th century.

* * * * *

On the 29th October, died at Brighton, Mr. WILLIAM WYON, a medal engraver of admirable skill, and probably more widely known by his works than any other living artist. Mr. Wyon was the engraver of the later coins of King George the Fourth, and of all the coins of William the Fourth and of her present Majesty. Mr. Wyon's medals include the recent war medals of the Peninsula, Trafalgar, Jellalabad, and Cabul--the civic medals of the Royal Academy, the Royal Society, the Royal Institution, the Geological Society, the Geographical Society, the Bengal Asiatic Society, and indeed of almost every learned society, home and colonial. Mr. Wyon was in his 57th year. Much of his genius is inherited by his son Leonard--known by his medals of Wordsworth and others, and honorably distinguished in the recent awards at the Great Exhibition.

* * * * *

The London journals announce the decease of the Rev. J. Hobart Caunter. Eighteen years ago this gentleman's appearances in the world of ephemeral literature were frequent--and fairly successful. He was the author of "The Island Bride," a poem of some length, and editor of "The Oriental Annual." Besides these, Mr. Caunter produced translations, and one or two graver works on historical and Biblical subjects.

* * * * *

The foreign papers report the death of the Chevalier Lavy, Member of the Council of Mines in Sardinia, and of the Academy of Sciences in Turin--and described as being one of the most learned of Italian numismatists. He had created at great cost a Museum of Medals, which he presented to his country, and which bears his name.

* * * * *

The French papers report the death, at Moscow, of M. de Saint Priest--a member of the French Academy, formerly a Peer of France--and the author of several historical works.

* * * * *

Dr. Paul Erman, the Nestor of Prussian _savans_, died recently at Berlin, at the advanced age of eighty-seven. In addition to innumerable articles on different subjects in scientific periodicals, he published important works on electricity, galvanism, magnetism, physiology, and optics.

* * * * *

The Continental papers report the death, at Jena, of Professor WOLFF.--Professor HUMBERT, of the Academy of Geneva, a distinguished Orientalist, and author of many learned works, is also reported to have died, on the 19th of last month.

MR. POTTS'S NEW YEAR'S.

Mr. T. Pemberton Potts--thus he always wrote his name, though the "Family Record," which sets forth the genesis of the house of Potts, does not contain the sonorous trisyllable which follows the modest initial T., which is all that he ever acknowledges of his baptismal appellation of TIMOTHY--Mr. Potts had been in great tribulation all day, in the apprehension that hatter, or tailor, or bootmaker would fail to send home the articles of their craft in which he proposed to make a sensation in his to-morrow's "New-Year's Calls." But his apprehensions were groundless. For a wonder, all these artists kept their word; and the last installment arrived fully two hours before the Old Year had taken its place in the silent and irrevocable Past. As one by one came in the brilliant beaver, the exquisite paletot, the unimpeachable swallow-tail, the snowy vest, the delicate, pearl-gray "continuations," and the resplendent boots, which Cinderella might have assumed, had she lived in the days of "Bloomerism," Mr. Potts displayed them scientifically over a chair, and gazed upon the picture they presented, as fondly as painter ever gazed upon the canvas upon which he had flung his whole burning soul.

When Mr. Potts awoke on the following morning, he was half afraid to open his eyes, for fear that the whole should prove a dream, too blissful to be true. After he had mustered courage to look, and found it to be all real, he lay for a while in lazy rapture, feeding his eyes upon the picture, which seemed more beautiful by daylight than it had appeared by the midnight camphene, of the preceding night.

Having performed the initial rites of the toilet, Mr. Potts attempted to assume the admired boots; but found to his cost that the disciple of St. Crispin had too literally obeyed his injunctions to give him a "snug fit." In vain he tugged and pulled, excoriating his fingers against the unyielding straps--his dressing apparatus did not comprise a pair of boot-hooks--his foot would no more _in_ than Lady Macbeth's blood-fleck would _out_. At last, by dispensing with his "lambs-wools," diligently lubricating the leather, and introducing a handkerchief into one strap, and a towel into the other, so as to gain a firmer hold, he succeeded in insinuating his naked feet into their places. "It is the first step that costs," says the French proverb, and Mr. Potts's first step in his new boots cost him an agonizing thrill in his toes, which threatened to put a veto upon his hopes of wearing them that day. Having fully arrayed himself, Mr. Potts mounted a chair, so as to bring the lower part of his figure within the range of his somewhat diminutive dressing-glass, and finding that the image which met his view fully equaled his anticipations, he bestowed upon it a farewell smile of approbation and set off upon his rounds.

He was soon at the door of the up-town mansion whither Mr. Briggs had retired from the "dry-salted," "roans," and "skivers" of the "Swamp," with a plum in his pocket, and one fair daughter whom Mr. Potts loved well if not wisely. Just as he was about to ascend the marble steps, an omnibus dashed by, and to the infinite horror of the wearer, deposited several large mud-blotches upon the delicate pearl-gray inexpressibles, in which were encased the nether limbs of the unfortunate Mr. Potts. With a muttered malediction between his teeth, he rang the bell, and was ushered into the hall. As he had come somewhat early, with the hope of finding the fair Mary Briggs alone, in which case he determined to make more than a passing call, he was in the act of laying aside his paletot, when a shrill cry and a simultaneous pang, made him aware that the tail of a monstrous cat was crushed under his boot, while the claws of the agonized animal were firmly fixed in his leg. Mr. Potts could not at once free himself from the hold of the enraged beast, for his arms were pinioned behind him by his upper garment, of which he was disencumbering himself. This circumstance nowise tended to restore his mental equilibrium, which had been disturbed by the previous occurrences.

Bewildered and confused, instead of passing through the door of the drawing-room, which was held open for him by the sable attendant, Mr. Potts rushed up the broad staircase, and burst into the first door he saw. Here he encountered a spectacle which sent the perspiration to his forehead faster than the most vigorous application of his handkerchief could remove it. He found himself in the presence of a matronly dame, robed in the loosest possible of dressing-gowns, her hair hanging down her neck, while a heap of articles which had fallen from her lap as she hastily rose, and lay at her feet, showed that, mindful of the economics of her "below Bleecker-street" days, the stately Mrs. Briggs had been engaged in repairing certain portions of her husband's wardrobe. A rustling sound, which met his ears, though at first he could not tell whence it came, was explained, when the eyes of Mr. Potts fell upon a glass so placed as to reflect objects behind a screen. There he saw the rubicund visage of the worthy ex-leather-dealer peeping out from the folds of a cloak, which hung against the wall, while the portion of his figure appearing below its bottom, showed that he was in a state as remote as could well be conceived from full dress.

Had Mr. Potts been writing his own biography, the next few minutes must have been a blank, so far as any definite reminiscences on his own part were concerned. He has a dim recollection of stammering out something about "mistaking the room," the "industry of Penelope," and "begging pardon;" then he remembers somebody, he hardly knows whether himself or not, rushing down-stairs, and passing through a door held open before him. Then he said, or heard somebody say something about "compliments of the season," "many returns," "fine day," "the gentlemen are favored," "make many calls?" At last, when he fully came to himself, he found that he was sitting in a drawing-room, his hat between his knees, and a cup of coffee in his hand. Near him was a table upon which, instead of a vulgar eating-house display of all the "delicacies of the season," was simply a massive coffee-urn, and two or three articles of plate. Before the table stood a lovely figure dressed in the purest white, her countenance lit up with the most enchanting smile in the world.

Mr. Potts found himself in the very situation in which he had hoped to be. He had been the first to make his appearance that morning, and he thought himself sure of a long _tête-à-tête_ with the fair Mary Briggs. In anticipation of this he had conned over in his own mind a variety of brilliant remarks, with which he purposed to enliven the conversation, and which he fully intended should impress upon her mind the conviction that he was an extremely agreeable young man. But things never turn out in such cases precisely as one has arranged them. The gentleman himself was not over-gifted with extempore conversational powers, and the adventures of the morning had not tended to remedy the deficiency. He quite forgot the criticisms which--_à propos_ of the Opera--he had intended to make upon Truffi and Parodi, Benedetti and Beneventano, for the getting-up of which he had almost learned by heart the cant of the musical critics. Even his raptures about Jenny Lind came coldly off. But the liveliness of the lady made amends for his deficiencies: the more silent and embarrassed he became, the more brilliant and charming she grew, and the more earnestly were his eyes fixed upon the charming countenance that beamed down upon him.

"How she did talk!" said Mr. Potts to us, one day, not long after the occurrence. He had invited us to dine with him at Delmonico's, when he would tell us how we could "do him a great favor--that's a good fellow." As we were sure of a good dinner and a capital Regalia afterward; and knew, moreover, that Mr. Potts never wanted to borrow money, we of course accepted the invitation. He wanted us to go and "put things right with old Briggs about that confounded New Year's scrape," and so unburdened his whole soul to us.--"How she did talk!" said Mr. Potts; "she knows every thing! Had I heard this Opera, and that? and didn't I admire this passage and that? and then she would go off into her Italian lingo, which I couldn't understand a word of. I didn't know she understood Italian. However, I'm glad I found it out--I know what to make of that handsome, dark-complexioned fellow, with black eyes and hair, and such a mustache, that I used to see coming out of old Briggs's every day or two--he was her Italian teacher. And then about Jenny Lind, and there was more Italian, and I don't know what. And then had I visited the Düsseldorff Gallery? and wasn't I in love with those little Fairies? and didn't the tears start to my eyes when I saw the Silesian Weavers? and what did I think of the Nativity? and did I ever see any thing so comical as the Student? and wasn't the Wine-Tasters admirable? and wasn't it wonderful that a man could put so much soul upon a bit of canvas, not larger than one's nail, with no materials except a few red, and yellow, and blue, and brown colors, and a few bristles fastened into the end of a stick? and--" But we forbear: Mr. Potts's confidences are sacred. We inferred, from his embarrassment and her volubility, that he was in love, and she wasn't--with him.

Mr. Potts gazed up into her face with his heart in his mouth:--it had been better for him, just then to have had his coffee there. A scalding sensation made him look down, when to his horror he found that he had been quietly emptying his cup into his hat, and had finished by depositing the last of its scalding contents upon his knees. He gave a start of agony and horror, when the treacherous chair, upon the edge of which he had been perched, slid out from under him, and he found himself seated upon the floor. The fragile china, which he held in his hand, was shattered into a score of fragments, while his hat, in falling, came in contact with the lady, who was standing before him, and bestowed its contents in the most liberal manner upon her snowy dress.

Mary Briggs was as sweet a girl as the city held on that New Year's Day, but even she could not prevent a look, half of vexation, and half of amusement, from passing over her countenance. The frown was but transient, and soon passed off into an expression of sympathy for the condition of the luckless gentleman at her feet. Mr. Potts, however, did not perceive the change. With a sudden spring he made for the door of the room. Two strides more brought him to the street door, which the servant was just then closing behind a new visitor. He rushed through like a whirlwind, without noticing their astonished looks, and shut the door after him with a report like a thunder-clap.

He had taken only a single step from the threshold when he found himself suddenly detained by an irresistible power, while at the same instant a sudden darkness came over his vision, as though a black curtain had been drawn between his eyes and the world without. He leaned against the door for support, with a terrible apprehension that his overwrought nervous system had yielded to the shock, and that he had been struck with sudden paralysis and blindness. But finding, in the course of a few moments, that the weakness did not increase, he proceeded to investigate his situation. Seeing a faint glimmer of light, like the narrow line shining under the door of an illuminated apartment, he put his hand to his eyes, and found that the obscuration was caused by the hat, which had slipped down from his forehead, and was now resting on the tip of his nose. He took it off, and beheld the well-known broad-brim which was wont to cover the capacious head of Mr. Briggs, instead of his own resplendent beaver. Mr. Potts then proceeded to examine into the cause of his detention, and found that the skirt of his coat had caught in the door. The whole matter was now plain. In his exodus through the hall, he had snatched up the only hat he saw, forgetting that his own was lying in the drawing-room beside the broken china; his hasty flight had projected his skirts horizontally as he passed through the door, which had closed upon them. The shock occasioned by the sudden check upon his progress, had brought the hat, too large for his head, over his eyes. The whole extent of his misfortune dawned gradually upon him. The keen January air reminded him that he had left his upper garment in the hall, while his benumbed fingers admonished him that the primrose kids, which he had so carefully selected, were ornamental rather than useful. He hesitated whether he should ring to be released from his durance, and to recover the missing articles of his apparel; but a sound within warned him that the visitor whom he had met was just taking his departure; and he felt that he could not encounter him. With a desperate tug at his coat, he tore himself away, leaving a fragment of the skirt behind him, and rushed down the steps.

Mr. Potts was in no mood or condition to pursue his intended rounds. His only thought was how to bestow himself for the remainder of the day, till he could creep home unobserved, under cover of night. He made his way to one of the obscure streets running parallel with Broadway, down which he went till he reached Florence's. He rushed through the whole length of the long saloon, and took possession of the box most remote from the door. The waiter was astonished by the multiplicity and singular character of the orders which kept coming all that afternoon from No. 19, in which cigars and potables largely figured.

Toward ten o'clock, Mr. Potts might have been seen making his way down Broadway, with a peculiarly oscillating motion. He had just reached the corner of Murray-street, and was felicitating himself that the troubles of the day were over, when he found his progress checked by a strong hand fastened upon his collar. He looked up with a stupid stare, and was half sobered by the sight of Mr. Briggs, in his well-known fur-trimmed wrapper. That worthy gentleman's special hobby was Temperance, and he never failed to trot it out on all available occasions. Mr. Potts clearly furnished such an occasion. In vain he protested that he had drunk only a single glass "o' bran'y-'n-wa-r-r." Mr. Briggs had an infallible test of a man's sobriety; If he could say "_National Intelligencer_," he was sober: if not, not. Mr. Potts's nearest approach to these sounds was, "_Na-s-nl'ntl-n'sr_." From the fact of his present condition, Mr. Briggs leaped to the conclusion that his conduct in the morning was owing to the same cause, and proceeded to set forth the enormity and danger of such a course, to the great edification of a group who soon gathered around. After being kept for half an hour shivering in the cold, Mr. Potts was suffered to escape. He saw that he was under a cloud, and was at a loss what to do, till the lucky thought struck him, of securing our intervention to "set the matter straight with old Briggs:" whence our acquaintance with all the facts of the case, of which so many contradictory accounts have been circulated about town.

A LEAF FROM PUNCH.

WINTER FASHIONS.

Short cloaks and mantillas, with dark figured dresses, compose the most fashionable walking costume for this season. They are recommended for their elegance, comfort, and convenience.

Figure 1 represents a HOME or DINNER DRESS.--No cap, and hair arranged in puffed bands, ornamented with two tufts of taffeta ribbons, intermixed with a few small loops of No. 2 velvet; then, quite behind, these loops become longer; lastly, on each side hang long loose ends of taffeta ribbon, and others of velvet not so long. The dress is quite a new model; it is _à disposition_; that is to say, the designs are so arranged as to fall in certain parts of the dress. The material is very thick, dark silk, a sort of _lampas_. The top of the skirt is worked with very light, black designs, which do not reach quite up to the waist. The stripes are obtained in the stuff by imitations of velvet, which simulate the appearance of velvet ribbons of graduated widths. The black lace is also woven in the stuff, and imitates real lace very naturally. The body and sleeves are plain, except at the edge of the lapel and the sleeves, where some light designs are combined in the fabric in the same style as the lace in the skirt; the lapel and sleeves are trimmed with real black lace. Two large velvet rosettes ornament the body; and a similar one holds up each sleeve, just above the bend of the arm. These special patterns woven in the fabric may be replaced by the application of ornaments of velvet ribbon and real lace on the skirt.--Mittens of black silk embroidered: these mittens are indispensable with the sleeves now worn. They come up the arm and accompany the trimming of the pagodas; the flounces on the arm have an excellent effect. Between the black lace of the sleeve and the trimmings of the mitten, there is some white lace trimming, which gives an air of lightness to the whole.--There is another very pretty style of Dinner Costume. It consists of a jupe of pale buff satin, with deep volant, headed by a narrow rûche of the same; _loin de feu_ of crimson velvet, low in the neck; the jacket being _à la Hongroie_; wide pagoda sleeves, finished by a very broad silk trimming, the jacket edged to correspond. A scarf of black lace is tied negligently round the neck, falling over the top of the corsage.

Figure 2 represents a WALKING COSTUME. Bonnet of satin velvet; the front satin, the crown velvet. The edge of the front, is trimmed with two small satin _bouillonnés_; the _bouillonnés_ of the band and crown are velvet.--Dress of black lampas, figured: the patterns form wreaths one over the other, with a large flower and pointed leaves detaching themselves through difference of shade in the worked figures on the plain ground.--Cloak, of black velvet. This cloak, very full, has a large flat collar, pointed in front, rounded behind. From the points hang very long black silk tassels, with broad ornaments over them. Behind, the cloak is continued in a round shape, but longer than in front. The fore parts lap over and drape one on the other; the right side clasps almost behind, on the left shoulder, under the collar; from this place hangs a long tassel, as well as at the bottom of the side that laps over. All around the edge of the cloak and collar is silk galloon, from three to four inches wide, sewed on flat; each side of this galloon is satined for about half an inch in width, and the middle is worked dead. The edge is finished off with a narrow fringe, little more than half an inch wide. In the draped part, when the arm is raised, the lining is seen; its color contrasts with the stuff.

Figure 3 represents a full winter costume, for a pleasant day, when furs are not indispensable. Bonnet, satin and blond. The brim is transparent, of white blond, gathered; it comes forward on the forehead, and opens off at the sides; the crown is rather square; it is made of white satin, gathered so as to form a shell without stiffness. The sides of the crown are composed of two small puffed rolls and a large _bouillonné_, all of white satin. The top of the crown is covered with a piece of blond which comes down and forms the curtain. Three white feathers at the side; the bottom one comes forward against the cheek, and covers the edge of the brim with its curls. The cheeks are trimmed with tufts of blue primroses. The strings are No. 22; they are edged with dead stripes crossed with small bars. Dress of black velvet. Winter mantelet of black velvet and blue satin, lined with blue satin, and trimmed with blue loose fringe, mixed with ends of black twisted _chenille_. This mantelet, round behind, has the stole shape in front; it is composed of bands of black velvet, from three to four inches wide, and bands of blue satin. Both velvet and satin are drawn in the middle and gathered like a bonnet; nothing can be rounder, softer, more luxuriously warm than this garment. The fringes at the edge are about seven inches deep where the arm comes, and deepen gradually toward the back, where they are ten inches deep.

Figure 4 represents the hood of a new and graceful mantle for promenading in the open air, for a short distance. The appearance of the hood is very graceful. When the mantle is worn in walking in private grounds, or going to a place of amusement, the hair can be arranged in any style, without danger of being disturbed, or with a bonnet. A mantle of blue silk, the hood and body trimmed with deep black lace, headed with a _ruché_ of silk, is a pretty style. The bottom edge of the hood, and the part which draws over the head, should be thus trimmed, the latter having a fulling of lace.

Figure 5 shows a portion of a very chaste costume for a young married lady. Hair ornamented with broad velvet ribbons rolled in the torsade and with ends floating at each side. Plain silk dress with the body very open in front, and the trimming composed of a worked band, four inches wide, sewed flat on another of eight or ten inches broad; this trimming, which is not gathered, forms a kind of double _berthe_, and gets less toward the bottom so as to round off gracefully, and not mark the waist too decidedly. Three bows of black velvet decorate the front of the body. The sleeves are short, and have two rows of gathered trimming; the skirt which is very ample, is smooth at top, and trimmed below with six figured flounces, a small one over a larger one, three times its width. When this figured stuff is not at hand, it may be replaced by embroidery or a simple festoon. The figures are worked in white. The habit shirt is made of silk-net, is high and square in front, where it is finished off with two rows of lace standing up. The body is rich open-work insertions and small plaits. The under-sleeves have a silk-net _bouillon_, with handsome lace raised in front, by a black velvet bow.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

1. Numerous missing periods have been inserted, and a few obvious printer's errors corrected. Inconsistent hyphenation has not been corrected.

2. At bottom of page 27, a confused series of five double quotes have been corrected to two double quotes and two pairs of (internal) single quotes.

3. The spelling "vailed" has been retained as acceptable in 19th Century writing.

4. Headers in Gothic script, even when printed in title case, have been rendered in all caps.