did. My impulse was to break through the crowd and support

her almost fainting form--but I well knew that my life would answer for the rashness on the spot. I could only, therefore, like the rest, wonder and gaze. And never did she seem to me, not even in the midst of her own court, to blaze forth with such transcendant beauty--yet touched with grief. Her look was not that of dejection--of one who was broken and crushed by misfortune--there was no blush of shame. It was rather one of profound, heart-breaking melancholy. Her full eyes looked as if privacy only was wanted for them to overflow with floods of tears. But they fell not. Her gaze was fixed on vacancy, or else cast toward the ground. She seemed like one unobservant of all around her, and buried in thoughts to which all else were strangers, and had nothing in common with. They were in Palmyra, and with her slaughtered multitudes. Yet though she wept not, others did; and one could see all along, wherever she moved, the Roman hardness yielding to pity, and melting down before the all-subduing presence of this wonderful woman. The most touching phrases of compassion fell constantly upon my ear. And ever and anon as in the road there would happen some rough or damp place, the kind souls would throw down upon it whatever of their garments they could quickest divest themselves of, that those feet little used to such encounters, might receive no harm. And as when other parts of the procession were passing by, shouts of triumph and vulgar joy frequently arose from the motley crowds, yet when Zenobia appeared, a death-like silence prevailed, or it was interrupted only by exclamations of admiration or pity, or of indignation at Aurelian for so using her. But this happened not long. For when the Emperor's pride had been sufficiently gratified, and just there where he came over against the steps of the capitol, he himself, crowned as he was with the diadem of universal empire, descended from his chariot, and unlocking the chains of gold that bound the limbs of the Queen, led and placed her in her own chariot--that chariot in which she had hoped herself to enter Rome in triumph--between Julia and Livia. Upon this the air was rent with the grateful acclamations of the countless multitudes. The Queen's countenance brightened for a moment, as if with the expressive sentiment, 'The gods bless you!' and was then buried in the folds of her robe. And when, after the lapse of many minutes, it was again raised and turned toward the people, every one might see that tears burning hot had coursed her cheeks, and relieved a heart which else might well have burst with its restrained emotion. Soon as the chariot which held her had disappeared upon the other side of the capitol, I extricated myself from the crowd, and returned home. It was not till the shades of evening had fallen, that the last of the procession had passed the front of the capitol, and the Emperor reposed within the walls of his palace. The evening was devoted to the shows of the theatres."

In the letter which closes the volumes, Piso, who is now married to the noble Fausta, describes a visit to Zenobia, at a magnificent villa on the Tiber, to which Aurelian has humanely caused to be brought and arranged every article of use or luxury found in the palace at Palmyra, which was capable of transportation. The exiled Queen, however, dwells sadly 'upon glories that are departed for ever; and is able to anticipate no other, or greater, in this world:

"She is silent and solitary. Her thoughts are evidently never with the present, but far back among the scenes of her former life. To converse is an effort. The lines of grief have fixed themselves upon her countenance; her very form and manner are expressive of a soul bowed and subdued by misfortune. Her pride seems no longer, as on the day of the triumph, to bear her up. It is Zenobia before me, but--like her own beautiful capital--it is Zenobia in ruins. That she suffers, too, from the reproaches of a mind now conscious of its errors, I cannot doubt. She blames Aurelian, but I am persuaded, she blames with no less severity herself. It is, I doubt not, the image of her desolated country rising before her, that causes her so often, in the midst of discourse with us, or when she has been sitting long silent, suddenly to start and clasp her hands, and withdraw weeping to her apartments, or the seclusion of the garden."

Let no reader be tempted, from the copiousness of our extracts, to forego the pleasure of perusing these volumes in their entire form. We have given but the outline, merely, of that portion which has not appeared at large in our pages; preserving, indeed, the main events, but leaving untouched the delightful under-current of tributary incidents, and that vein of calm philosophical and moral reasoning, which every where pervade the work.

In conclusion, we cordially and confidently commend these volumes to our readers, with the hope soon again to find the writer gleaning in the great vineyard of the past; for surely, his mind is not of so light a soil as to be exhausted by one crop, how rich soever that product may be.

* * * * *

NATIONAL STANDARD OF COSTUME.--A Lecture on the Changes of Fashion. Delivered before the Portsmouth (N. H.) Lyceum, By CHARLES W. BREWSTER.

OUR thanks are due to the Portsmouth Lyceum for a copy of this very entertaining and instructive pamphlet, in which an important topic is ably discussed. The writer came to his task well prepared, by a great number of facts, pertinent illustrative incidents, and anecdotes, to do it full justice; and he has amply succeeded. Although we have little hope that the crying evil which he exposes will ever cease to be injuriously operative on all classes in America, we cannot refrain from yielding our tribute of praise and admiration to the good sense and sound reasoning of the first pioneer in a cause so commendable.

After showing that in the early days of the Jews, the fashion of garments was fixed, and that the costumes of the Chinese, the Turks, and the Moors, are the same now that they have been for centuries, the writer observes:

"How would a Chinese be surprised, on a visit to the Republic, who had formed his ideas of our costume from a picture drawn from life only half a century since! He contemplates the picture, and in his imagination he sees the American beaux with their tri-cornered hats, flowing wigs, broad-skirted coats, leather small clothes, pointed shoes, and broad bright buckles; and the beautiful belles by their side, with the long waists of their dresses, sleeves closely attached to their arms, the ample skirts distended by a butt hoop, and their heels elevated in such shoes as the fair heroines wore in '76, when they slept up bravely in the world, by adding four inches to their heel-taps! With this picture full before him, the Chinese arrives on our shore, and in vain seeks for a single article of dress the picture represented. He fancies the treacherous ship has borne him to a wrong country, or becomes distrustful of the painter's veracity. When told, that the _fashions change_ among us, the Chinese hears with wonder, and in admiration of the stability of his own celestial empire, exclaims: Is this the effect of your liberal government? If the fickle nature of your customs has been interwoven into your political institutions, while China will live for ever, the _Republic_ itself will ere long be laid aside as a thing _out of fashion_."

The following anecdote is given, as illustrative of the supremacy of fashion:

"In 1813, Sir Humphrey Davy was permitted by Napoleon to visit Paris. At that time it will be recollected, that every movement of citizens was carefully watched, and that every assemblage of people in public places was speedily dispersed by military power, to prevent riots and revolutionary proceedings. While the distinguished philosopher was attending the meeting of the Institute, Lady Davy, attended by her maid, walked in the public garden. She wore a very small hat, of a simple cockleshell form, such as was fashionable in London at the time; while the Parisian ladies wore bonnets of most voluminous dimensions. It happened to be a saint's day, on which, the shops being closed, the citizens repaired in crowds to the garden. On seeing the diminutive bonnet of Lady Davy, the Parisians felt little less surprise than did the inhabitants of Brobdignag on beholding the hat of Gulliver; and a crowd of persons soon assembled around the unknown exotic; in consequence of which, one of the Inspectors of the Garden immediately presented himself and informed her ladyship that no cause for assemblage could be suffered, and therefore requested her to retire. Some officers of the Imperial Guard, to whom she appealed, replied, that however much they might regret the circumstance, they were unable to afford her any redress, as the order was peremptory. She then requested to be conducted to her carriage; an officer immediately offered his arm; but the crowd had by this time so greatly increased, that it became necessary to send for a corporal's guard; and the party quitted the garden, surrounded by fixed bayonets!"

To the justice of the subjoined, all reflecting minds will yield ready assent. We would make a reservation, however, in the article of _stocks_--a truly excellent and most comfortable invention:

"Paris is the fantastical seat of the fashions. The models there formed are followed in England, where they are sometimes improved upon--and are transferred, as regularly as articles of merchandise, across the Atlantic. From the principal cities, plates of the latest fashions, regulated by those prevailing in the foreign courts, are transmitted at regular intervals, by mail, to the principal towns throughout the United States, and from these towns all the neighboring villages take their newest fashions.

"The immediate adoption of the French fashions by other nations, is not unfrequently a source of much merriment to the inventors of them, and is a standing topic of amusement and ridicule to the ladies of Paris; for it is not unfrequently the case, that while the prints of costume, as they are prepared by the French milliners and dress-makers, of the most absurd and fantastical models, are seized upon and imitated in the dresses of the English and Americans--these very prints are subjects of sport to the Parisian ladies for their fantastical absurdity. They regard them in the same light that we do the beads and baubles which are sent to savage nations. With such worthless trinkets we obtain from the savages their valuable furs, and with trinkets of no greater real value, do the French extract the hard earnings from the pockets of the American citizens.

"Had we the capacity of vision at one view to look throughout the Union, and trace the course of fashion and its metamorphosing effects upon society, the view would be ludicrous indeed, and the changes no less unmeaning than ridiculous. At one time we should see thousands of tri-cornered hats thrown off, and as many heads covered with round ones--and their places supplied in turn with the cap maker's fabric: at another season, we should see a million half-worn coats laid aside for moths to feed upon, to give place to some fashion which has no higher merit than the sanction of some foreign court: with another breeze across the Atlantic, another slight commotion is seen throughout the land; and millions of cravats are removed from their wonted location, that the willing necks of American freemen, may be bound in the foreign _stocks_!

"We will, however, give you one fact, which has no imagination about it. It is illustrative of what has been previously stated, that the villages look for their fashions to the principal towns in their neighborhoods, and that, however independent they may feel of foreign political sway, few Americans have ever yet had the bravery to declare independence of foreign fashions, but meekly submit to what is _said_ to be the _latest fashions_ in the place to which they look as their emporium--whether such fashions indeed exist, or are imposed upon them by cunning individuals, who 'by such craft do get their wealth.'

"A few years since, a country trader in New-Hampshire, in making purchases of a little of every thing for his store, was offered, at a very low rate, a lot of coat buttons of the fashion of half a century since, about the size of a dollar. The keen-sighted trader, by the tailor's assistance, soon had his own coat decorated with them. At home the lads needed no better evidence of its being the latest fashion, than that the trader had just come from the metropolis. The old buttons went off at a great advance, and the village soon shone in Revolutionary splendor! If the shining beaux _thought_ they were dressed in the latest Parisian style, did they not feel as well as though they really were so? And did the supercilious eye with which they regarded the poor fellows who could not afford buttons larger than a cent, beam less with aristocracy than the exalted courtier's?

"One other illustrative anecdote occurs to us, which we cannot forbear giving. A few years since, two young milliners, located in a town in the interior of New-Hampshire, found it necessary for their reputation to follow the example of almost every milliner within fifty miles of the metropolis, and to go once a year to Boston for the latest fashions. Among the thrown-aside articles in a dry goods store, worthless from being out of date, were about one hundred and fifty bonnets. The calculating damsels, who had seen enough of the world to know that any fashion would go with a proper introduction, and knowing no good reason why they should remain useless in Boston, kindly took them off the merchant's hands for _six cents_ per bonnet. Arrived at home with their large stock of the '_latest fashions_,' they were careful to finish and decorate a couple in good style, and the next Sunday, (the day on which new fashions are generally displayed,) the 'Boston fashion' was whispered through the village--and not in vain; for it was not long, before the whole stock was disposed of, at from nine shillings to two dollars apiece! The distressing epidemic of a _new fashion_ thus speedily swept off nearly every bonnet in the village, of one year old and upwards--although many were in good health, and showed no signs of decay, till the pestilence began to rage."

Mr. Brewster cites numerous instances of ridiculous aping of foreign fashions, by Americans, such as wearing in winter the summer hats of Paris, because they were the '_latest_ fashion,' and, while laughing at the folly of a hump-backed court around Richard the Third, donning the '_bustle_,' and appearing as if broken-backed! Our author talks of the large sleeves supping libations from tea-cups, and revelling in sauces at the table. Bless his simple heart! Does he not know that there are no large sleeves now? Would that he could see, of a windy day, in Broadway, a tall and lank but _fashionable_ 'olden maiden,'

'With form full lean and sum dele pyned away, And eke with arms consuméd to the bone!'

He would find another evidence, that adaptation of dress to person and figure is of slight moment to the follower of fashion, in comparison with being in the mode.

In reply to the objection that permanency in fashion would tend to throw thousands of _artistes_ and artizans out of employment, our author observes:

"Is not the same objection raised to the introduction of labor-saving machinery for manufacturing purposes? Yet we find that although one man now, by the assistance of machinery, can do the work which twenty performed a few years since, yet we do not learn that any more are out of employment, or that they have any less profitable business than formerly. If permanent fashions should be established, some would, no doubt, feel their influence at first: but would they be affected any more injuriously than some branches of business are in every few years, by _changes_ in the _fashions_? Take the business of wig-maker, for instance. When the full-bottomed wig was worn by a Dauphin of France, to hide an imperfection in his shoulder, wigs became fashionable, and were worn by all ages and classes in society, not only in France but also in England and America--and their manufacture must have given employment to many thousands. But somehow or other, the people of the present age, not being able to discern why the imperfections of a foreign prince should for ever rest upon their heads, have with one consent thrown them off. They did not, however, wait till all the wig-makers were dead before the change was made, and of course many of them must have felt the effects of the change in fashion upon their business. Look too at the broad shoe-buckles of our revolutionary ancestors, and the bright buckles at their knees. Did the buckle-makers starve to death, when, as independent freemen, our sires resolved to wear pantaloons and shoe-strings? No! Nor would the interest of any class of the community be any more seriously affected by establishing permanent models of fashion, than were those of the wig or buckle-maker, who were compelled to seek some other employment for a livelihood.

"If a careful examination is made, it will be found that a much larger number are annually ruined in business by attempting to follow the vagaries of fashion, than possibly could be injured by establishing fashion upon a permanent basis."

We think all will agree with the writer in this position, on another ground, namely: that when the novelty of fashion shall be dispensed with in society, the female circle will at once forego much useless intercourse on the subject, and introduce in its place more rational and profitable topics.

We close, by recommending this Lecture to readers of every class, as containing much that is instructive, and that may be made profitable, to all.

* * * * *

WILD FLOWERS, CULLED FOR EARLY YOUTH. BY A LADY. In one volume, pp. 257. New-York: JOHN S. TAYLOR.

WE are glad to perceive the public favor bestowed upon such works for the moral and religious improvement of the young, as the one now under notice. Stories, naturally related, and blended with good advice implied, and valuable lessons adroitly disguised, or robbed of didactic dullness, are capable of extensive good. They are well calculated to gain those passes of the heart which are often guarded by prejudice or indifference against the direct force of truth. We can heartily commend both the execution and tendency of each of the eight sketches in the volume before us. They are thus entitled: The Young Mechanics; Anselmo, Gardener of Lyons; Adela De Coven; My Uncle's Wand; The Friend of Olden Times; Stanmore; Glimpses of New-England Mountaineers, from a Traveller's Memoranda; and After the Party. As a specimen of the agreeable, unaffected style of the book, we make the following extract from the 'New-England Mountaineers:'

"One clear sun-shiny morning, in the month of February, some three or four years since, as I was travelling in New-England, not far from the Green Mountains, I left the stage-sleigh, as it drew up to the door of a village post-office, and ran forward to put my blood into quicker circulation.

"A crust had been formed upon the new-fallen snow, by the freezing of a little rain that had followed the snow-storm, so that a pretty decided step was requisite to break the crust, so far as to walk securely, it being extremely slippery.

"Every tree and shrub was likewise encrusted with ice, the bare boughs and slender twigs all standing out in full relief, under a sky of purest blue, glittered in the sun-beams, as if covered with rubies and diamonds.

"Those who have never experienced a northern winter, can form no idea of the effect of sun-rise over such a scene as this.

"The day was severe enough to require all the aids of lion skin, buffalo robes, and fine furs, to preserve the vital fluid from stagnation. I had gone about a quarter of a mile ahead when I met a little urchin of four or five years, carrying a small pail of milk.

"'Why, my little fellow,' said I, 'where are your stockings this cold morning?'

"'Aunt Nelly's ironing on 'em.'

"'What's your name, my boy?'

"'George Washington La Fayette Keeny.'

"'The deuce it is!' Why, my man, your name is very like a jelly-bag, larger at the top than it is at the bottom.'

"'I never seed a jelly-bag,' said the youngster, 'but that is exactly the shape of our Tom's kite; it's proper big at the top, and tapers off at the end in a _leetle_ peak.'

"'Well, you're a smart boy for a simile. Run home and get your stockings, quick step, and here is a shilling toward another pair.'

"On I ran, but was soon compelled to leave the faint traces of a road to avoid a cutter that came hurrying on at the heels of a frightened market-horse. One thing after another came bouncing out, strewing the path, and, last of all, apparently much against his will, out popped the driver himself, heels over head, his capes flying about his ears, his cap tossed into a gully, and his temper not a little discomposed. He sprang upon his feet.

"'Now, that 'are skittish colt of our Dick's--what on 'arth can a fellow do to stop the trollup--she goes like a jack-o'-lantern. Hullo there! Stop that 'are mare, will ye? My stars--what 'ill our Nab say?'

"But the strong and lively perception of the ludicrous, that characterizes the New-Englander, even of the roughest mould, seemed to overpower his vexation. Springing up from the hollow, into which his fur-cap had rolled, he swung it round his head, and burst out into a fit of obstreperous laughter.

"How the adventure ended, history does not record; the coach came up, and we were soon beyond the region of buttered roads."

A New-England country-wedding is admirably depicted in the subjoined paragraphs:

"We reined up to an old-fashioned, solitary farm-house, flanked by a range of barns and stables of more modern date, and their capaciousness spoke well for the thrift of the owner.

"The farmer himself answered our summons at the door.

"'Can you give us a lodging to-night, my friend? The roads are perilous in the dark, the storm is increasing every moment, and 'tis fifteen miles to the nearest public house. You will really do us a Christian office, if you will but afford us a shelter until day-light to-morrow.' The old gentleman hesitated, as he stood with the door half open to shield himself from the rain and hail.

"'Why, gentlemen, ye see, it is not quite convenient _to-night_. We've got a _wedden_ here. I can't tell what our folks would do with so many people. We shall have to keep all the weddeners, like enough--'tis a savage night, out, I guess.' At this crisis the son of 'mine host,' and heir-apparent of house and homestead, came forward.

"'Father, I guess we can accommodate the gentlemen somehow. The young men can sit up--there will be no difficulty. We can give them a shelter and a warm supper at any rate.'

"All was settled, and in we went; and after due stamping, shaking over-coats, and brushing up, with suitable ablutions, we were ushered into the presence of the bride. She was an interesting girl of eighteen, with a countenance bright with health, intelligence, and happiness, dressed with marked simplicity, and in charming taste. On one side she was sustained by her lover--I beg pardon, her husband; the knot had been tied a few minutes before our untimely intrusion--on the other by two fair girls, their white favors, I took to be bride's-maids.

"The ceremony of congratulating, or saluting, the new-married lady, now commenced; but I perceived the young lady grew pale, and showed symptoms of great reluctance at receiving the salutations of this promiscuous company. The pretty bride's-maids too, were considered fair game, and after resisting, with very becoming shyness, they escaped from the room, till the odious ceremony, as they called it, was over.

"This odd custom duly complied with, a custom now quite obsolete in our cities, cake and metheglin were handed about. An apology was made to the strangers for the absence of wine, on the plea of '_total abstinence_.' A question was made at once, whether metheglin did not come under the ban.

"'Well, well, my friends,' said the old gentleman, 'if it goes agin your consciences, ye need not partake; but one thing I can tell ye, 'tis better than any wine. When I was a young man, I read a book called the Vicar of Wakefield, and I remember how the minister used to praise madam's gooseberry wine; now I don't believe it was a grain better than my wife's metheglin, and I don't think there's any sin in drinking on't either--_at a wedden_.'

"The company seemed very well pleased with the old gentleman's logic, and still better satisfied with his lady's excellent metheglin; and the two hours that intervened between cake and supper were passed in cheerful conversation and music. * * * Supper was now announced, not by bell or gong, or even the whispered 'supper is ready' of some pampered son of Ethiopia. No, no; by the good patriarch of the household himself, who, with looks of real kindness, and true-hearted primitive hospitality, threw open the door of the large old-fashioned inner kitchen, and, rubbing his hands, cried out, 'Come, my friends, all; supper is smoking; take your seats.' Thus saying, he led the way, while the company followed in his wake, rather unceremoniously, considering the occasion. * * * We had venison brought in a frozen state from the Canadian borders; we had delicious oysters from the coast of Connecticut; we had salmon that had been preserved fresh in ice; we had ducks that surpassed the famous canvas-backs, and the most delicate of wild fowls and chickens, dressed in various ways. I must not omit to mention a famous bird of the barn-yard, fattened and killed, as the old gentleman asserted, 'a purpose for Clary's _wedden_, and if it a'nt nice,' he added, 'it is not _my_ fault.' * * * Next came our dessert: I like to be particular. We had of pasties a variety--custards, sweet-meats, jellies, both foreign and domestic, honey rifled from the white clover of their meadows, and all the different products of their dairy in high perfection.

"After supper a toast was proposed. 'Long life, prosperity, and concord to the newly-married couple;' which was drank with all gravity."

These 'Wild Flowers' are tastefully secured by the publisher, who has contributed not a little to the cause of typographical reform. Two pretty engravings, also, embellish the volume.

* * * * *

LIVE AND LET LIVE; OR DOMESTIC SERVICE ILLUSTRATED. By the Author of 'Hope Leslie,' 'The Linwoods,' 'The Poor Rich Man, and the Rich Poor Man,' etc. In one volume, pp. 216. New-York: HARPER AND BROTHERS.

A HALF page is left us, by the 'chances of type,' wherein to express an opinion of this little volume; and we forego the pleasure of extracts, that we may early call attention to a work which should be in the hands of every mistress of a family and servants in the United States. A thorough knowledge of American domestic life; a spirit of generous kindness toward all, even the humblest, conditions of humanity; a combination of incidents the most life-like, and all fertile in useful lessons both to servants and those under whom they are placed by Providence; a style simple, touching, and level to every capacity; these are some of the characteristics of this charming little book. We cannot doubt that the warmest hopes of the benevolent writer, in relation to her work, may be realized; that it _will_ rouse female minds to reflection upon the duties and capabilities of mistresses of families, making them feel their obligations to 'inferiors in position,' and quickening their sleeping consciences.

EDITORS' TABLE.

WILLIAM TYNDALE'S 'NEWE TESTAMENTE.'--We have often thought how delightfully a few hours might be passed in the London British Museum, in examining the first translation that was ever made of the Scriptures into the English tongue; and lo! without the expense, trouble, or peril of journeying so far, that celebrated work, more than three hundred years old, is before us, with a full and complete memoir of the ever-memorable author, and eke his engraved portrait, which whoso examines, shall forthwith pronounce, from _prima faciæ_; evidence, to be a faithful likeness. What an expanse of forehead!--how clear and searching the eyes!--what an air of decision and martyr-like firmness in the compression of the lips!--forming, in connection with the surrounding multitudinous beard, such an expression as might be produced by a blending of Lorenzo Dow's and Ex-Sheriff Parkins' most satirical smile. This acescent aspect, however, may well be pardoned; for Tyndale was persecuted through life, and finally suffered a painful martyrdom in the cause of his Master.

Few Bible-readers are aware how much of persecution, of 'pain, anguish, and tribulation,' they endured, who were the original translators of the Scriptures into English, and the early defenders of the doctrines they teach. The popish clergy charged Tyndale with altering the sacred records, and forbade the circulation of his Testament, under the severest penalties. The priest-ridden King of England joined in the crusade, and by a 'constytucyon pronyneyall,' prohibited the issue of any book of Scripture, in the English tongue; 'as though,' says Tyndale, 'it weren heresye for a Crysten man to rede Crystes gospell.' In reply to the charge of altering the New Testament, the martyr says, in a letter to a contemporary: 'I call God to recorde agaynst the daye we shal appeare before our Lorde Jesu Crist, to give rekonynge of oure doinges, that I neuer alterd one syllable of Goddes worde agaynst my conscyence, nor wolde do thys daye, yf all that is in earthe, whether it be honoure, pleasure, or ryches, niyght be giuen me.' And in the preface to his first edition, he also observes: 'I haue here translated (brethren and susters, moost dere and tenderly beloved in Crist,) the Newe Testamente for youre spirituall edyfyinge, consolacion, and solas: the causes that moved me to translate, y thought better that other shulde ymagion, than that y shulde rehearce them. Moreover, y supposed yt superfluous, for who ys so blynde to axe why lyght shulde be shewed to them that walke in dercknes, where they cannot but stomble, and where to stomble ys the daunger of eternall damnacion.'

All attempts to stop the circulation of the Scriptures were of no avail. Though they were not distributed 'withouten grete auenture and parell,' yet they ran and were glorified. The Roman Catholic bishop complains, that though often collected and burned, 'stil these pestylent bokes are throwen in the strete, and lefte at mennys dores by nyghte,' and that where they 'durste not offer theyr poyson to sel, they wolde of theyr cheryte poyson men for noughte.' In vain does the King issue orders, urging his subjects to 'kepe pure and clene of all contagyon of wronge opynion in Cristes relygion,' and warn them not to 'suffer suche euil sede, contaygyous and dampnable, to be sowen and take roote, ouergrowinge the corne of the Catholick fayth.' 'He that compyled the booke,' says Tyndale, notwithstanding these warnings and edicts, 'purposyth, with Goddes help, to mayntayne vnto the deathe, yf neede be. In brunninge the Newe-Testamente, tha did none other thinge than I loked for; no more shal tha doe, if tha brunne _me_ allso, if it be God his will it shal be so.' In this spirit, did he continue, by the aid of equally zealous cöoperators whom he raised up, to multiply editions of the New-Testament, and to defend its doctrines, until he fell, by shameful strategy, into the hands of his popish enemies, and was put to a cruel death.

The reader may be curious to possess a specimen of this ancient relic; we therefore make a few random extracts, in contrast with the modern and approved version, commencing with St. PAUL'S eloquent narration of his sufferings for the faith, in the eleventh chapter of II Corinthians:

TYNEDALE. MODERN VERSION.

"Wherin soever eny man dare be |"Howbeit, whereinsoever any is bolde (I speake folisshly) I dare |bold, (I speak foolishly,) I am be bolde also. They are Ebrues, so |bold also. Are they Hebrews? so am I: They are Israelites, even so |am I. Are they Israelites? so am am I: They are the sede off Abraham, |I. Are they the seed of Abraham? even so am I. They are the ministers |so am I. Are they ministers of off Crist (I speake as a fole) I am |Christ? (I speak as a fool,) I moare: In labours moare abundant: |am more: in labours more abundant, In strypes above measure: In preson |in stripes above measure, in more plenteously: In deeth ofte. Of |prisons more frequent, in deaths the Iewes five tymes receaved I |oft. Of the Jews five times every tymes xl. strypes, one excepte.|received I forty stripes save Thryse was I beten with roddes. I |one. Thrice was I beaten with was once stoned. I suffred thryse |rods, once was I stoned, thrice I shipwracke. Nyght and daye have I |suffered shipwreck, a night and a bene in the depe off the see. In |day I have been in the deep. In iorneyinge often: In parrels of |journeyings often, in perils waters: In parrels of robbers: In |of waters, in perils of robbers, ieoperdies off myne awne nacion: In |in perils by mine own countrymen, ieorperdies amonge the hethen. I have|in perils by the heathen, in perils bene in parrels in cities, in parrels|in the city, in perils in the in wildernes, in parrels in the see, |wilderness, in perils in the sea, in parrels amonge falce brethren, in |in perils among false brethren. laboure and travayle, in watchynge |In weariness and painfulness, in often, in honger, in thirst, in |watchings often, in hunger and fastynges often, in colde and in |thirst, in fastings often, in cold nakednes. |and nakedness. | "Besyde the thynges which outwardly |"Besides those things that are happen vnto me, I am combred dayly, |without, that which cometh upon and care for all congregacions. Who |me daily, the care of all the is sicke: and I am not sick? Who is |churches. Who is weak and I am not hurte in the fayth: and my hert |weak? who is offended, and I burn burneth not? Yf I must nedes reioyce,|not? If I must needs glory, I I will reioyce of myne infirmities." |will glory of the things which |concern mine infirmities."

The affecting farewell taken by PAUL of his disciples, as he was about to 'depart for to go into Macedonia,' is thus recorded:

"Then toke we shippynge, and departed|"And we went before to the ship, vnto Asson, there to receave Paul. |and sailed unto Assos, there For soo had he apoynted, and wolde |intending to take in Paul: for so hym silfe goo be londe. When he was |had he appointed, minding himself come to vs vnto Asson, we toke hym |to go afoot. And when he met with in, and cam to Mittilenes, and sayled|us at Assos, we took him in, and thence, and cam the nexte day over |came to Mitylene. And we sailed agaynst Chios. And the day folowinge |thence, and came the next day over we aryved at Samos, and taryed at |against Chios; and the next day we Trogilion. The nexte daye we cam to |arrived at Samos, and tarried at Mileton. For Paul had determined to |Trogyllium; and the next day we leave Ephesus as they sayled, because|came to Miletus. For Paul had he wolde not spende the tyme in Asia.|determined to sail by Ephesus, For he hasted to be (yff itt were |because he would not spend the time possible) at Jerusalem in the feaste |in Asia; for he hasted, if it were off pentecoste. |possible for him, to be at |Jerusalem the day of Pentecost. | "From Mileton he sent to Ephesus, |"And from Miletus he sent to and called the seniours of the |Ephesus, and called the elders of congregacion. When they were come to |the church. And when they were come hym, he sayde vnto them: Ye knowe |to him, he said unto them, Ye know, from the fyrst daye that I cam vn to |from the first day that I came into Asia, after what manner I have bene |Asia, after what manner I have been with you at all ceasons, servynge God|with you at all seasons, serving with all humbleness off mynde, and |the Lord with all humility of mind, with many teares, and temtacions, |and with many tears and temptations whiche happened vnto me by the |which befell me by the lying in layinges awayte off the iewes, and |wait of the Jews: And how I kept howe I kepte backe nothynge thatt |back nothing that was profitable myght be for youre proffet: but that |unto you, but have showed you, and I have shewed you, and taught you |have taught you publicly, and from openly and at home in youre houses, |house to house, testifying both to witnessynge bothe to the iewes and |the Jews, and also to the Greeks, also to the grekes, the repentaunce |repentance toward God, and faith tawarde god, and faith tawarde our |toward our Lord Jesus Christ. lorde Jesu. | | "And nowe beholde I goo bounde in |And now, behold, I go bound in the the sprete vnto Ierusalem, and knowe |Spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing nott what shall come off me there, |the things that shall befall me butt that the holy gost witnesseth in|there: Save that the Holy Ghost every cite, sayinge: that bondes and |witnesseth in every city, saying trouble abyde me: but none of tho |that bonds and afflictions abide thinges move me. Nether is my lyfe |me. But none of these things move dere vnto my silfe, that I myght |me; neither count I my life dear fulfill my course with ioye, and the |unto myself, so that I might ministracion which I have receaved |finish my course with joy, and the of the lorde Jesu, to testify the |ministry which I have received gospell of the grace of god. |of the Lord Jesus, to testify the |gospel of the grace of God. | "And nowe beholde, I am sure that |"And now, behold, I know that ye henceforthe ye all (thorow whom I |all, among whom I have gone have gone preachynge the kyngdom of |preaching the kingdom of God, god) shall se my face noo moore. |shall see my face no more. Wherfore I take you to recorde this |Wherefore I take you to record same daye, that I am pure from the |this day, that I am pure from the bloud of all men. For I have kepte |blood of all men. For I have not nothynge backe: butt have shewed you |shunned to declare unto you all all the counsell off god. Take hede |the counsel of God. Take heed, therfore vnto youre selves, and to |therefore, unto yourselves, and all the flocke, wher of the holy gost|to all the flock over the which hath made you oversears, to rule the |the Holy Ghost hath made you congregacion of god, which he hath |overseers, to feed the church of purchased with his bloud. For I am |God, which he hath purchased with sure off this, that after my |his own blood. For I know this, departynge shall greveous wolves |that after my departing shall entre in amonge you, which will not |grievous wolves enter in among you, spare the flocke. And off youre awne |not sparing the flock. Also of selves shall men aryse speakynge |your own selves shall men arise, perverse thynges, to drawe disciples |speaking perverse things, to draw after them. Therfore awake and |away disciples after them. remember, that by the space of iij. |Therefore watch and remember, that yeares I ceased not to warne every |by the space of three years I one of you, both nyght and daye with |ceased not to warn every one night teares. |and day with tears. | "And nowe, dere brethren, I commende |"And now, brethren, I commend you you to god, and to the worde of his |to God, and to the word of his grace, which is able to bylde |grace, which is able to build you further, and to geve you an |up, and to give you an inheritance inheritaunce amonge all them which |among all them which are are sanctified. I have desyred no |sanctified. I have coveted no man's mans silver, golde, or vestur. Ye, |silver, or gold, or apparel. Yea, ye knowe well that these hondes have |ye yourselves know that these hands ministred vnto my necessites, and to|have ministered unto my them thatt were with me. I have |necessities, and to them that were shewed you all thynges, howe that soo|with me. I have showed you all laborynge ye ought to receave the |things, how that so laboring ye weake, and to remember the wordes off|ought to support the weak; and to the lorde Jesu, howe that he sayde: |remember the words of the Lord It is more blessed to geve, then to |Jesus, how he said, It is more receave. |blessed to give than to receive. | "When he had thus spoken, he kneled |"And when he had thus spoken, he doune, and prayed with them all. And |kneeled down, and prayed with them they wept all aboundantly, and fell |all. And they all wept sore, and on Pauls necke, and kissed hym, |fell on Paul's neck, and kissed sorrowynge, most of all, for the |him; sorrowing most of all, for the wordes which he spake, thatt they |words which he spake, that they shulde se his face noo moore." |should see his face no more."

There is not a little similarity between the character of Tyndale, in some particulars, and that of St. Paul. Like the apostle, he was meek, single-minded, and in all things, he 'persevered unto the end.' Persecutions, stripes, buffettings--'none of these things moved him, neither counted he his _life_ dear unto himself, so that he might finish his course with joy,' in defence of the gospel of the grace of God.

The parable of the ten talents must close our examples of this rare work:

"Lykwyse as a certayne man redy to |"For the kingdom of heaven is as a take his iorney to a straunge |man travelling into a far country, countree, called hys servauntes to |who called his own servants, and hym, and delyvered to them hys |delivered unto them his goods. And goodes. And vnto won he gave v. |unto one he gave five talents, to talentes, to another ij. and to |another two, and to another one; to another one: to every man after his |every man according to his several abilite, and streyght waye departed. |ability; and straightway took his Then he thatt hadde received the fyve|journey. Then he that had received talentes, went and bestowed them, and|the five talents went and traded wane other fyve. Lykwyse he that |with the same, and made them other receaved ij. gayned other ij. but he |five talents. And likewise he that that receaved one, went and digged a |had received two, he also gained pitt in the erth, and hyd his masters|other two. But he that had received money. After a longe season, the |one, went and digged in the earth, lorde of those servauntes cam, and |and hid his lord's money. After a reckened with them. Then came he that|long time the lord of those servants had receaved fyve talentes and |cometh, and reckoneth with them. brought other fyve, sayinge: master, |And so he that had received five thou deliveredes vnto me fyve |talents came, and brought other talentes, lo I have gayned with them |five talents, saying, Lord, thou fyve moo. His master said vnto him: |deliveredst unto me five talents: well good servaunt and faythful, Thou|behold, I have gained besides them hast bene faythful in lytell, I will |five talents more. His lord said make the ruler over moche, entre in |unto him, Well done, thou good and into thy masters ioye. Also he that |faithful servant; thou has been receaved ij. talentes cam, and sayde:|faithful over a few things, I will master, thou delyveredes vnto me ij. |make thee ruler over many things: talentes, lo I have wone ij. other |enter thou into the joy of thy lord. with them. His master saide vnto hym,| well good servaunt and faythfull, |"He also that had received two thou hast bene faythefull in litell, |talents came and said, Lord, thou I woll make the ruler over moche; go |deliveredst unto me two talents; in into thy masters ioye. |behold, I have gained two other |talents besides them. His lord "He which had receaved the one talent|said unto him, Well done, good and cam also, and said: master, I |faithful servant; thou has been considered that thou wast an harde |faithful over a few things, I will man, which repest where thou sowedst |make thee ruler over many things: not, and gadderest where thou |enter thou into the joy of thy strawedst not, and was affrayd, and |lord. Then he which had received went and hyd thy talent in the |the one talent came and said, Lord, erthe; lo, thou hast thyne awne. His |I knew thee that thou art a hard master answered, and sayde vnto hym: |man, reaping where thou hast not evyll servaunt and slewthfull, thou |sown: and gathering where thou hast knewest that I repe where I sowed |not strewed: And I was afraid, and nott, and gaddre where I strawed |went and hid thy talent in the nott: thou oughtest therefore to |earth; lo, there thou hast that is have had my money to the chaungers, |thine. His lord answered and said and then at my commynge shulde I |unto him Thou wicked and slothful have receaved my money with vauntage.|servant, thou knewest that I reap Take therefore the talent from hym, |where I sowed not, and gather where and geve hit vnto him which hath |I have not strewed; Thou oughtest, x talentes. For vnto every man that |therefore, to have put my money to hath shalbe geven, and he shall have |the exchangers, and then at my aboundance. And from hym that hath |coming I should have received mine not, shalbe taken awaye, even that |own with usury. Take, therefore, he hath. And cast that vnprophetable |the talent from him, and give it servant into vtter dercknes, there |unto him which hath ten talents. shalbe wepynge, and gnasshinge of |For unto every one that hath, shall theth." |be given, and he shall have |abundance: but from him that hath |not, shall be taken away even that |which he hath. And cast ye the |unprofitable servant into outer |darkness: there shall be weeping |and gnashing of teeth."

It is indeed surprising, as is remarked by the patient, diligent biographer, how little obsolete the language of this translation is, even at this day; and in point of perspicuity, noble simplicity, propriety of idiom, and purity of style, no English version has yet surpassed it. The effect of the publication of this volume will be, we think, to cause Tyndale's persecutors to be lashed by all posterity; for he was a man of kind and inoffensive nature, and in all the evils which he was called to bear, seems to have endured them meekly, and to have thought, with a contemporary poet, that

'As threshing separates from straw the corn, By trials from the world's chaff are we born;'

that the world was only made troublesome to him, that he should not be delighted by the way, and forget whither he was going. The hundred-necked snake of criticism which assailed the Bible-martyr three centuries ago, has long been dead; and Christians will preserve his memory in holy keeping, so long as the Scriptures are read, and found 'profitable for reproof, instruction, and sound doctrine.'

* * * * *

'THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE.'--We have received the first number of a new monthly publication, thus entitled, from the press of Mr. CHARLES ALEXANDER, Philadelphia. The form is somewhat after the model of 'The Lady's Book,' although scarcely so neat in the externals of paper and printing. The editorial direction is confided to WILLIAM E. BURTON, Esq., the comedian, whose popularity as an actor is very general, and whose ready humor finds vent as well from a facile pen, as from lips and gesture. Such of our readers as remember 'An Actor's Alloquy'--and all who have _read_ the series, must be of the number--may well believe, that an easy style, and a keen sense of the burlesque or ridiculous, will characterize the Editor's contributions to the Magazine, which, in the issue before us, predominate both in number and attraction. Puns abound in 'The Schuylkill Pic-Nic,' 'Cosmogonical Squintings,' etc., while 'The Convict and His Wife' will win encomiums for fine description and pathetic incident. In these, and other portions, the hand of the editor is discernible. We subjoin two extracts from 'Sailors, an Anecdotal Scribble,' evidently from the same pen:

"Three sailors, anxious to rejoin their ship, and unable to procure seats in the stagecoach, hired a horse and gig. The vehicle was a large, old-fashioned article, mounted on a pair of very high wheels, and having endured many years of hard and painful service, grumbled most audibly at every jerk or jingle. The horse fortunately was steady, for the sailors were totally unacquainted with the management of 'the land craft.' Upon starting, one of the crew picked up the reins, and said to his mates, 'Well, strike me lucky, if this ain't a rum go. Look'ye here; some lubber has tied the tiller ropes together!' A knife was procured, and the reins separated, when the spokesman, who sat in the middle, handed them right and left to his comrades. 'Dick, hold on here to larboard. Jack, you here, to starboard, while I look out ahead.' The pilot's directions ran something in this shape. 'Larboard--put her nearer the wind, Dick. Larboard a _pint_ more, or we shall foul the small craft. She answers the helm well. 'Bout ship. Give her a long leg to starboard, Jack, just to weather that flock of mutton. Keep her a good full--she jibes!--port your helm, or you'll run down the bloody wagon. (_A crash and a general spill._) I told you so--and here we are.'"

"The drama of the Battle of Waterloo was about to be produced at a theatre in an English sea-port town. Numbers of supernumeraries were wanted to fill the ranks of the French and the English forces; and some of the sailors belonging to the numerous ships in the harbor were mustered for the required purpose. At rehearsal, each supernumerary received a numbered ticket, and was expected to answer when that number was called, that he might be instructed in the duties of the station assigned to him. No. 7 was named, but an answer was not forthcoming. 'You are No. 7, I believe,' said the stage-manager to a big-whiskered, long-tailed tar. 'Exactly.' 'Why did you not answer to the call!' 'Bill Sykes, is No. 4. You've shoved him in the enemy's squad; now we've sailed, messed, and _fout_ together, for twenty years, and we're not going to be enemies now.' Remonstrance was useless; the holder of No. 8 was induced to change numbers with Bill Sykes, and the messmates were not divided.

"When a portion of the jolly tars were told that they were to represent Frenchmen, they, one and all, indignantly refused. 'It was disgrace enough to _hact_ as soldiers, but they'd be blessed if they'd pretend to be Mounseers at any price, or put on the enemy's jackets.' The manager was compelled to procure landsmen for Napoleon's army; but the night ended in a row; the sham-fight broke into a real battle; muskets were clubbed, and heads broken, and Nos. 7 and 8 were given into the custody of the police, as ring-leaders of a dangerous riot.

"No. 7, when before the magistrate, thus defended himself:

"'Why, your honor, these here sky-larking players gets half-a-dozen old muskets, two or three fowling-pieces, and a pair-and-a-half of pistols, with half a pound of powder in a paper, and they calls it the Battle of Waterloo--gammoning Bill Sykes and me to put on a lobster's jacket apiece, and fire, off two o' these 'ere muskets, what an old one-eyed purser in a corner had been loading with a 'bacca pipe full o' powder. Well, Bill Sykes, and I, and Joe Brown, and six more, were the British army; and opposite us was some six or eight land-lubbers, a hacting the Mounseers. The skipper of the show people told us, when we'd squibbed off our muskets over the Mounseers' heads, to retire backerds, as if retreating from the French. In course, this here was hard work for jack tars what had sarved their country for twenty years, to be told to run away from half-a-dozen land-lubbers a pretending to be French. Well, it war'nt o' no use kicking up a row then, but at night, Bill Sykes and I argufied the matter over a can o' grog, and we concluded not to disgrace our flag, but to stand up for the honor of Old England. Well, when the scrimmage begun, the land-lubbers called out to us to retreat. 'See you damned first!' says I, and Bill werry quietly said he wished they might get it, which I didn't think they would. Bill Sykes, in slewing round to guard his starn, put his foot on a piece of orange peel, and missing stays, came on his beam ends. One of the imitation _parley woos_ made a grab at him, to captiwate Bill, when, in course, I covered my friend, and accommodated the sham Mounseer with a hoist as didn't agree with him; he was one o' them mutton-fed chaps as can't stand much; for he landed among the fiddlers, and squealed blue murder. Well, arter a row begins, you never know nothing till its over. Bill Sykes and I cleared out the French army in no time, and then we tipped the player people a broadside, and took their powder magazine prisoner. The cabin passengers interfered, and Bill Sykes and I got surrounded--but if I'd had a bagginet at the end of my musket, if I wouldn't have cleared the decks like 'bacca, damn my sister's cat.'"

Mr. BURNS, at 262 Broadway, is the New-York agent for 'The Gentleman's Magazine.' _Appropos_: Why exclude the better sex? As POWER would say: 'The ladies, you dog--you wouldn't lave out the ladies, would you?'

* * * * *

'STORIES FROM REAL LIFE.'--We have before spoken of this admirable series, designed to teach true independence and domestic economy; and the third of the five numbers, now before us, is worthy its predecessors. It is entitled 'The Harcourts; Illustrating the Benefits of Retrenchment and Reform,' and is from the pen of a lady. It well enforces the lesson conveyed in the motto, from IRVING: 'It is not poverty so much as pretence, that harasses the mind. Have the courage to appear poor, and you disarm poverty of its sharpest sting.' We are struck, in perusing this little book, with the nice tact at _contrast_ of scene and character which the writer displays, not less than with the plain good sense which marks her reflections and deductions. 'The Harcourts' exemplify the correctness of the position assumed in the well-written introduction, which we copy, in part, below:

"In searching out the causes of the present deranged state of the times, there is one which should not be overlooked. Whatever the merchant or the politician may assign as the immediate agent, we are persuaded that the fearful increase of luxury and ostentation in our houses, our equipages, and our dress, is the remote and secret cause, to a great extent, that has been stealing the blood from our vitals, until it has left us in so enfeebled a state as to fall ready victims to the prevailing epidemic. If the healthful occupation and the simple living, the free air and honest independence of republicanism, have been exchanged for luxurious indolence and French cookery, for the stifling marts of manner and fashion, and the tinkling chains of European bondage; can we wonder that our whole community should be in the condition spoken of by the prophet when describing the Jews? 'The whole head is sick and the whole heart faint. From the sole of the foot, even unto the head, there is no soundness in it.' We have engrafted the gorgeous and costly vanities of Europe upon American fortunes, and these have not been able to bear their heavy expense. We need domestic retrenchment and reform in all the departments of home. If we cultivate intellectual refinement and 'true independence,' our tastes will become simple, and the glitter of fashion will have no power to attract us. In less spacious mansions, by more judicious household arrangements, and when our daughters are taught to be useful, there will be more home comfort, more hearth-side happiness. We need a reformation, and the present time is favorable for commencing one. We should all learn wisdom from the distress now prevailing. If our men become convinced there was more honor and safety in their forefathers' mode of transacting business; if our females become ashamed of their folly in making our parlors 'show-rooms' for the upholsterer, the cabinet maker, and the importer of fancy articles; if we are forced to acknowledge our criminal oversight in making our sons spendthrifts, and our daughters walking advertisements of the fashions; then the pressure of which we complain, though so hard to bear now, will become a source of grateful feeling in the retrospect; for its result will then be, a safe and speedy return to American feelings, republican simplicity, and honest independence."

The following little sketch shows some of the difficulties encountered by a scheming parvenue, in her ridiculous attempts at 'living like other people:'

"'There is one way in which I can save ten or fifteen dollars at least. It is now nearly two weeks from the evening we have fixed on, and if we can continue to do without buying any meat or poultry, which are now so very high-priced, and live on light dinners until that time, we can take the money your father allows for marketing, and add it to the sum he has given us. He has a great deal of business to attend to for several weeks, and told me that he would not be able to dine at home; and as there will be no one here but ourselves and the servants, we can live upon any thing.'

* * * * *

"The following week, Mrs. Harcourt, her two daughters, and the servants were busy in the work of preparation. Cakes were to be made, candle papers had to be cut and spermed; the rooms must be decorated, and a thousand other little matters were obliged to be performed. One servant was sent to borrow plate, another cut-glass and china. The regular routine of household employments was broken in upon, every thing turned up side down, and many vexatious trials endured, merely for the sake of making a show for a few hours, and in the vain attempt 'to reconcile parade with economy, and to glitter at a cheap rate.' It is a folly for the wealthy to waste their hundreds and thousands in entertaining guests who either satirise them from envy of their prosperity, or ridicule them for some outward imitation of style; but for those who are obliged to practise self-denial and parsimony in order to make such displays, it is worse than folly--it is madness.

"Mrs. Harcourt, during the course of their preparations, having reproved one of her servants for her carelessness in breaking a glass dish, she insolently replied, 'You may take the pay for it, madam, out of my wages, and then give me the remainder; for my month is up this evening, and I cannot think of staying where I have to do double work on half-feeding. At other 'quality' ladies' houses I was accustomed to get meat three times a day, and I cannot live on slops;' and then slamming the door violently after her, she did not give Mrs. Harcourt an opportunity to make any reply.

"'What an insolent creature,' exclaimed Anna; 'I would not permit her to stay in the house another instant.'

"Mrs. Harcourt, who had been more accustomed to the impertinence of hirelings, had more self-command than Anna. She regretted that it had happened just at this time, when they had so much to do. She thought it was shameful for her to take advantage of this opportunity, when she knew that her services were most needed. 'But,' she added, 'her insolent language should not be borne; I will pay her, and discharge her, although it does put me to great inconvenience.'

"'You can send for Sally White to assist us,' said Anna; 'she is always very willing to help when we expect company.'

"'Yes, I know she is willing enough, but she generally carries away with her treble what her services are worth; but we must have some one in Betsey's place, so we will send Nathan for Sally White, as we can do no better now.'

"Among all the mortifications and irritations which those who are striving to keep up appearances without means are forced to submit to, there are none more galling than the impertinence of servants, and the consciousness that they see the _reality_, and will make the struggle between our pride and our poverty a favorite subject of gossip with the servants of other families, who, of course, will find _opportunities_ to make it known to their mistresses."

* * * * *

BRISTOL ACADEMY, TAUNTON, (MASS.)--We take pleasure in calling public attention to this establishment, the preceptorship of which has but recently been assumed by J. N. BELLOWS, ESQ., a ripe scholar, a gentleman of pure taste, possessing the requisite feelings, and all proper endowments, for such an undertaking. The institution is one of the oldest in the state, and is endowed with liberal funds. The town is a charming _rus in urbe_, being but an hour or two from Boston and Providence, by the rail-road. The Academy has a female department, under the charge of an able instructress, in which the accomplishments of music, drawing, and all the 'elegant humanities' of similar establishments, are taught. We can confidently commend this institution to the numerous families under whose eyes this paragraph will fall, as one in which boys and girls will receive, in addition to a good education, those pleasant attentions which can only spring from such as delight to renew that 'childhood of the soul' which prompts a love of the young, and a community of feeling with the joys and sorrows of that tender yet fertile period--fertile in good or ill--of human existence.

LITERARY RECORD.

THE ALBION.--We know of no weekly periodical in America, which combines so many literary attractions as this. The editor, by an arrangement abroad, obtains, at an advance period, the choicest magazines, and periodicals of all descriptions, published in British Europe. From these he selects, with practised judgment, the best articles, and such as are calculated to suit the tastes of all his readers; giving, occasionally, a superb engraving. The whole is presented in the imperial quarto form, upon beautiful types, and paper of the finest texture and color. The best productions of Captain MARRYAT, 'Boz,' and others--indeed of all the most popular periodical writers in Europe--appear in the Albion, before they can be issued elsewhere in America; and the work is forwarded with great promptitude, by the earliest mails, to every part of the United States and of British America. Its success, during a long career, has been most ample; and this has been obtained, not by reverberated puffs of extraordinary attraction, but by MERIT alone. To such a journal we gladly render an unsolicited meed of praise, and commend it to public favor. A new volume has been but recently commenced.

PRACTICAL RELIGION.--We commend to the attention of our readers, a handsome volume, of some three hundred pages, recently issued from the press of Mr. JOHN S. TAYLOR, entitled 'Practical Religion, Recommended and Enforced, in a Series of Letters from EPSILON to his Friend.' There are thirty-three of these letters, and they embrace, among others, the subjoined themes: To the careless, awakened, and backsliding sinner; formation of devotional habits; the passive virtues of Christianity; proper manner of studying the doctrines of the gospel; duty of religious profession; doing good, and the right use of property; personal efforts for sinners; choice of a profession; practical dependence on divine aid; love of popularity, Christian politeness, and political duty; the choice of a wife; to a Christian on his marriage, in affliction, and on recovery from sickness; on his removal to new settlements, his duty to his minister, in revivals of religion, and in trusting to GOD for temporal provision, etc. The letter on the choice of a partner in conjugal life, and those on a cognate topic, are full of excellent advice. The style is fluent, and occasionally rises to eloquence.

'TROLLOPIAD.'--The Trollopiad, or Travelling Gentleman in America, is the title of a satire in verse, from the press of Mr. C. SHEPARD, Broadway. The writer has assumed an appropriate _nom de guerre_, in 'Nil Admirari;' and walking underneath this cloud, he encounters, and does wordy battle with, Trollope, Fiddler, Hall, Hamilton, and others of the journeying, book-making tribe, from the other side of the water. There are certainly many good hits in the poetical text, together with not a few blemishes. The notes, however, are more spicy, and in the way of contrast, arranged with the eye of an artist who understands situation and effect. In short, for 'brief must we be,' the 'Trollopiad' will agreeably beguile a dull hour at home, or on board a steam-boat; and, if such a thing be possible, may serve to enhance the contempt which is now generally felt among us for the misrepresentations of foreign tourists.

COLUMBIA COLLEGE.--Through some inadvertancy, the account of the celebration of the first semi-centennial anniversary of Columbia College, with the Oration and Poem delivered on that occasion, did not reach us until nearly a month after its publication. It is not too late to say, however, after a perusal of both the literary efforts referred to, that they were worthy the occasion, and highly honorable to their authors. In the oration, Mr. EASTBURN recalls to the memory of his auditory some of the distinguished sons of Columbia, as CLINTON, MASON, SANDS, GRIFFIN, and EASTBURN, and indulges in a brief but eloquent tribute to each. In the poem, also, Mr. BETTS has felicitously interwoven harmonious measures in praise of the venerable _alma mater_, and the choice spirits who have drank at her fountains of knowledge.

NEW-YORK IN 1837.--The present is the fourth year of publication of this very useful work, which has received important improvements with every successive issue. In addition to a general description of the city, a list of its officers, public institutions, etc., as well as those of Brooklyn, there is a General Classified Directory, embracing all the principal firms and individuals transacting mercantile, professional, or manufacturing pursuits in New-York and Brooklyn, alphabetically arranged, under their respective kinds of business. The whole is a convenient manual for citizens and strangers, prepared with great care, and complete in all essential respects. It is accompanied by a correct map, and embellished with a clever engraving of the New-York University, drawn and engraved by HINSHELWOOD. J. DISTURNELL, Courtland-street.

'CHRIST AND HIM CRUCIFIED,' is the title of an eloquent and well-reasoned discourse, from the pen of Rev. C. W. DENNISON, of Wilmington, Delaware, sent us by an attentive friend and correspondent. It was preached to the Second Baptist Church of Delaware, in September last, from PAUL'S words: 'For I determined not to know any thing among you, save JESUS CHRIST, and Him crucified.' Published by request. J. P. CALLENDER, 141 Nassau-street.

'LECTURES TO CHRISTIANS.'--This volume contains twenty-five Lectures, delivered by Rev. CHARLES G. FINNEY, in 1836 and 1837, reported by the Editor of the New-York Evangelist, and revised by the author, who has chosen to present them in the condensed and laconic style in which they were delivered. 'As my friends wish to have them in a volume,' says Mr. FINNEY, 'they must take them as they are.' Such as they are, therefore, they are before the public. JOHN S. TAYLOR, publisher.

'THE ISSUE,' PRESENTED IN A SERIES OF LETTERS ON SLAVERY.--This is a small volume, of an hundred and ten pages, from the pen of Rev. RUFUS WM. BAILEY, of South Carolina. It contains fifteen letters, originally published in a religious newspaper, and widely copied and circulated through the religious journals of the United States. Their object was and is, to induce slavery-agitators to 'let the South alone.' JOHN S. TAYLOR, Brick Church Chapel, Park.

'THE FAMILY PREACHER, or Domestic Duties Illustrated and Enforced,' is the title of a work by the same author, and from the same press, as 'THE ISSUE.' It consists of eight discourses upon the duties of husbands, wives, females, parents, children, masters, and servants. We have given the volume but a cursory perusal, yet we have read enough to enable us conscientiously to recommend it to the reader, as well calculated to do good--to make all conditions of social life better and happier.

CHARACTERISTICS OF WOMEN.--The former edition of Mrs. JAMESON'S 'Characteristics of Women, Moral, Poetical, and Historical,' was noticed at length in this Magazine. In the present issue, numerous errors and omissions have been corrected and supplied; we are sorry, however, to perceive that not a few typographical inaccuracies are still permitted to mar the volume. The work contains several pretty etchings by the gifted authoress.

WILLIS'S POEMS.--Messrs. SAUNDERS AND OTLEY have issued 'Melanie, and Other Poems, by N. P. WILLIS.' The volume, which is tastefully executed, and embellished with a fine portrait of the author, contains little, if we do not mistake, upon which the judgment of the public has not already been passed. The same house has published 'The Star of Seville,' a new Drama, by Mrs. FANNY KEMBLE BUTLER.

'CHRIST HEALING THE SICK.--A copy of this celebrated painting, by our countryman WEST, has attracted much attention at the American Museum. But for a little hardness and dryness in the coloring, the effect of the original would be well preserved; and as it is, it is well worthy of examination.

RISE AND FALL OF ATHENS.--The Brothers HARPER have published, in two volumes 12mo., 'Athens: Its Rise and Fall. By E. L. BULWER, author of 'Pelham,' 'The Disowned,' etc. The object of the author is, to combine an elaborate view of the literature of Greece, with a complete and impartial account of her political transactions. The present volumes are to be followed by others, containing a critical analysis of the tragedies of Sophocles.

ADDRESS.--We have received an Address, delivered in the Cathedral of St. Finbar, before the Hibernian Society, the St. Patrick Benevolent Society, and the Irish Volunteers, at Charleston, (S. C.,) on the 17th March, 1837. By A. G. MAGRATH, Esq. Saving a style somewhat too involved and redundant, this Address has impressed us with a favorable idea of the author's talents. We had marked one or two passages for insertion, which lack of space compels us to omit.

'NATURE.'--A thin, handsome volume, thus entitled, is before us. It is the work of a calm, contemplative mind, capable of analyzing thought, and tracing the influence of outward upon inward nature; of one who feels deeply, and in whom the 'poetry of the spirit' is ever active. Some affectation there may be of the German style, 'but that's not much.' The work has pure thoughts and beautiful; and it will commend itself to the heart.

PHRENOLOGY.--'An Examination of Phrenology; in two Lectures, delivered to the Students of the Columbian College, District of Columbia, in February last. By THOMAS SEWALL, M. D., Professor of Anatomy and Physiology.' We propose, should leisure serve, hereafter to refer to this production, which seems mainly dictated by a spirit of wholesome examination and research, although, in our judgment, it is occasionally marred by disingenuous inferences.

'KNICKERBOCKERIANA.'

WE cannot permit the first number of a new volume to go before our readers, without acknowledging our gratification at the continued favor bestowed upon this Magazine by the public. It is a source of pleasure and pride to us, in this season of general depression, when retrenchment is the order of the day, with all classes of our countrymen, that the erasures from our subscription-list have been few indeed, and far between; while the accessions have been more numerous than at any previous period. We cannot fail to perceive in this, an evidence of a strong hold upon the regards of our readers, and a proof that our exertions are widely appreciated. This bond of union, and this good opinion, it will be our untiring endeavor to strengthen and enhance. That this endeavor will be even more successful than heretofore, we are too well fortified with the best matériel, and a large, yet still increasing, corps of the ablest cöoperators, to doubt.

The numbers for August and September are both passing through the press. The first will soon be published, and the next and subsequent issues will be prompt. 'Ollapodiana,' 'Odds and Ends of a Penny-a-Liner,' 'Notes of a Surgeon,' 'Nobility of Human Nature,' 'American Antiquities,' (Number Two,) 'Wilson Conworth,' 'Religious Charlatanry,' (Number Two,) 'The Backwoodsman,' 'Notes of Travel,' with articles of poetry, by W. G. SIMMS, Esq., W. G. CLARK, and others, are filed for insertion. A number of papers from several other writers, (favorably regarded, from a slight examination,) are also under advisement.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Note:

Obvious typographical errors were repaired. Valid archaic spellings were retained.