all on one side, and that your own? Complain? Why, such was the anxiety to meet your wishes about keeping up the seeming "control of the seas," that even when your youthful and ardent son succeeded in whipping you clean in speed and bottom, threatening not only to match you on the high seas, but even at no distant day to manage the entire commerce and carrying trade of his own country, the commerce of that country was as far as possible taken out of his grasp, and put into your own. What an old fool you would be to complain, Father dear, at such unmitigated good luck on your side, and folly on ours. If it were otherwise you would complain rather obstreperously.

termination" are beautifully introduced and admirably contrasted with the tender, endearing, and soft qualities which he attributes to his infant prodigy, the lad's "youth, ingenuity and ardor." And then, to cap the climax of the tragic scene, comes the "fell necessity" which makes the old dada so very cruel and merciless to his offspring we fancy we are reading the Roman story anew, inserting merely Bull for Brutus; or the tragedy of Sophocles, in which Antigone plays the part of The Navigation Laws," ruthlessly sacrificed by the parent hands to appease the destinies of commerce. But our readers must judge for themselves and probably not a few of the sterner sort may be affected even unto tears. Boy! bring hither that reviving vial and our cambric hand- However, it is highly satisfactory to Americans kerchief. Oh! bitter, bitter sorrow, that our par- (it must be) to know that nothing has occurred to ricidal hands should be raised against so simple-lull the ardor of British competition" likewise; minded and generous a father!

that even should British competition get lulled while watching the new steamers on our rivers, and our "new manufactures wherever an opportunity offers" to clothe ourselves, (through the otherwise overtasked energies of "British compe

soil "is a fact that forces itself on the notice and the interest of the most unobservant and incurious." We are a highly interesting infant phenomenon—

we are.

PRIESTLY PROFANITY.-We read: "The Neapolitan Government has prohibited the sale of the works of the following authors: Shakspeare, Schiller, Molière, Lamartine, Lucretius, Lucian, Sophocles, Sismondi, Thiers, and Humboldt."

"We have several times had to direct attention to the fresh and fresh lines of steamers on the American rivers and lakes, to vast additional lengths of canal, and the endless ramifications of the railway system; as also to the new manufac-tition,") that every step we take even on our own tures wherever an opening offered. The rapid increase of population in the States, augmented by an annual immigration of near 300,000 from these isles, is a fact that forces itself on the notice and the interest of the most unobservant and incurious. All these promise to develop the resources of the States to such an extent as to compel us to a competition as difficult as it is unavoidable. We must run a race with our gigantic and unshackled rival. We must set our long-practised skill, our steady industry, and our dogged determination against his youth, ingenuity and ardor. It is the father who runs a race with his son. A fell necessity constrains us, and we must not be beat. Let our ship-builders and their employers take warning in time. There will always be abundant supply of vessels good enough and fast enough for short voyages. The coal trade can take care of itself, for it will ever be a refuge for the destitute. But we want fast vessels for the long voyages, which other-announcement. When the great Will finds himwise will fall into American hands. It is fortunate self associated with a maudlin sentimentalist and that the Navigation Laws have been repealed in writer of grisettes' amours like Lamartine, and a time to destroy those false and unreasonable ex- newspaper statesman who owes his celebrity to pectations, which might have lulled the ardor of the dynasties he assisted to overthrow by supportBritish competition. We now all start together, ing like Thiers; when the grave Humboldt, a sort with a fair field and no favor. The American of nineteenth century Sinbad, or Gil Blas of phiCaptain can call at London, and the British Cap-losophy, finds himself alongside of the sharp and tain can pursue his voyage to New-York. Who can complain? Not we."

"Not we"-oh no, not you! Why the devil (excuse the remark) should you complain? Did not a person called WALKER, and a thorough scheming little aristocrat, named BANCROFT, to whom you were so very civil and good that he loves you better than his own kin, and various other persons of your party in this country, induce your youthful and ardent" or verdant son to throw away his best weapon for the control of the seas, to suit your necessities, under the score of "reciprocity," when the reciprocity was, like the handle of a pitcher,

So singular a medley of the sublime and the ridiculous probably never before entered the head of a priest or a king. King Bauba seems to have a really astonishing discrimination in literature. What can be atheistical, anarchical, or antimonarchical in Shakspeare we are at considerable perplexity to discover. But we can fancy the scene in Hades which may be produced by this

witty Molière; when the glowing and condensed soul of Sophocles is coupled with the writer of some sixty volumes of lachrymose histories like Sismondi, Lucretius must go singing lewd songs to the maids of Hecate, and Lucian will have, thanks to King Bauba, and the Roman Catholic and Apostolic inquisition on dead genius and living imbecility, an opportunity of inditing a dialogue more novel and probably more enduring than any which he has left to us of the upper world. King Bauba! on the part of the souls in hell who will enjoy one good laugh over your folly, we thank thee.

CRITICAL NOTICES.

its success must rest, is its monthly notes of the | peculiar fascination. They are heart pictures of more able and important decisions of the courts sunshine and shadow, joys and sorrows. Drawn in America and Great Britain. From the intri- by the hand of a master, they are full of those cacy of commercial relations, and the unity of in- "touches of nature" that make "the whole world terests pervading our Republic, it is highly impor- kin;" and we are drawn on from the beginning tant that the practising lawyer should keep the to the end of them, as if by a melancholy though run of all new decisions, not only in his immediate pleasing spell, listening as it were to some enlocality, but in the remotest sections of the coun- chanter, recounting to us the thoughts, and feeltry. They should reach him with telegraphic ings, and aspirations which we had never dared speed. But to this there are many obstacles- utter, scarcely to ourselves. Our limited space distance, the expensive nature of law books, and precludes more than this bare mention of the book, more especially the voluminousness of the reports or we would try and give some more definite idea themselves. Law reporters too often eke out of the very ingenious form into which it is thrown, their pages with the formal proceedings of courts the beautiful thoughts and sentiments with which and the lengthy statements and one-sided argu- it abounds, and the charming pictures of character ments of counsel, which the professional reader and scenery that adorn it. A Boston editor, no feels little inclination to wade through, much less doubt regarding Mr. Mitchell as the author of the to pay for. The opinion of the court, which pre-“Lorgnette," says it is by one of the ephemeral sents with fairness the arguments pro and con, writers of the day. This is a pity, for we think and which at any rate is the only thing sought the book would convey pleasure, and profit too, to for, since it is "the law," is almost lost sight of, several generations; and we would therefore reand with a single halfpenny's worth of bread, we commend the author to go to Boston, and take have an almost intolerable "quantity of sack." some lessons in writing for posterity, and thus The Law Magazine avoids all these sources of become one of those "immortal few that were not annoyance, and in its reports of cases, strips off born to die." But seriously, what is this jealousy the technicalities of practice, and presents the between the two cities kept up by Nothing, we principle in a plain and condensed form, but believe, but the temptations offered to point a with sufficient precision of statement and accu- sentence therewith, as illustrated above. racy of reference to render it authority in courts of law. It thus embodies an amount of legal information which could by no possibility be ob- Illustrations of Washington Irving's Dolph Heytained in the same space by any other vehicle. liger. Designed and etched by JOHN W. Accompanying these notes of cases, are monthly EHNINGER. New-York: G. P. Putnam. 1851. alphabetical digests of all cases of general interOn opening this production we must confess est in the superior courts of law and equity, both that we were surprised at the remarkable merit it in the United States and England, properly clas-exhibits. Being disappointed somewhat in this

sified and arranged for reference.

artist's first attempt in this form, his illustrations The present number contains, among other of Hood's " Bridge of Sighs," we were not prepared things, an extremely vigorous article upon "The to expect such a masterly handling of his subject as Practice of the Law," which not even the veteran is exhibted in this series of plates. The book is in practitioner can read without some degree of the form and style in which the Art Union published profit, or at least of pleasure; a brief sketch of the Darley's illustrations of Irving's Stories of Rip life of Judge Cranch; an article upon "Law Re-Van Winkle and Sleepy Hollow. The plates are ten form;" some remarks upon the legal profession as it exists in the United States; an essay on National Jurisprudence; and Critical Notices on late Law Reports.

We have seen letters to the Editor of the Law Magazine from distinguished American jurists, which of themselves augur most favorably for its success; and we have little doubt but that it will speedily acquire the reputation and position it deserves.

Reveries of a Bachelor; or a Book of the Heart.
By IK. MARVEL. New-York: Baker & Scribner.

Ere we have had an opportunity to express our opinion of this delightful book, it has, we understand, already passed through two editions. The readers of this Review are acquainted with the graceful and piquant style of the author, through the "Notes by the Road" and other papers contributed to our pages. Certainly he must take rank among the first, for purity and beauty of style; and we must confess to a preference, over all other books of modern travels, of his 'Fresh Gleanings." These "Reveries" have a

in number, and are preceded by the story elegantly printed. The humorous and not the pathetic is evidently this artist's forte. We consider this an eminently successful effort, exhibiting a true sympathy with and delicate appreciation of his subject,-one, we think, the most artistically perfect of all Mr. Irving's productions, so wonderfully are the natural and the supernatural blended together in it. Το say that these illustrations are worthy of it is the highest praise we can bestow. They have afforded us infinite pleasure in studying them, and we commend them to the centre-tables of all who would add a new fireside delight to these long winter evenings, as one of the very best of the

season.

Chanticleer: A Thanksgiving Story of the Peabody Family. New-York: Redfield. Boston: B. B. Mussey.

A book full of pleasant thoughts, and pleasant pictures, purely American; its sphere of action not confined to any particular spot, but left to the reader's fancy to locate.

Truly appropriate to the happy season, a tinge

of poetry, free from affectation, and a dash off great languages ancient and modern, with a regenuine humor pervade it. No one can rise from the perusal in any but a happier frame of mind. The characters are true to the life. Old Peabody, a patriarch, overflowing with the milk of kindness towards the whole human race; the griping merchant, and suborned wife; the wealthy Mrs. Carrack, an argosy with silken sails, laden with wealth and pride; her son made up of puppyism, Paris coats and, patent leather; the hearty, homely, farmer folk from the West; the sorrowing mother; the rollicking sea-captain; the true and firm-hearted grandson, and his gentle Miriam; and last of all, the ever important Mopsey, "the lassie wi' the bonny locks," are the prominent characters in the pleasant play. We have not seen a more agreeable gift-book.

Béranger: Two hundred of his Lyrics done into
English Verse. By WILLIAM YOUNG. New
York: G. P. Putnam.

In the wide range of French poetry, the verse of Béranger is perhaps the most difficult to translate. Coming, evidently, warm from the heart and appealing to the sensibilities of the reader, witty and ludicrous, idiomatic, and full of every, day phrases of the people, these Lyrics present obstacles insumountable to a translator of ordinary powers. That Mr. Young has been very successful is admitted by the critics, and in this opinion we cheerfully acquiesce. That he has shown extremely bad taste in his introductory preface is equally clear. He apologizes for translating a work of Republican tendency. "Place, and peculiar circumstances," says Mr. Young, "render it pardonable that an Englishman, strongly and steadily attached to the monarchical institutions of his native land, should make this reservation when aspiring to lay before the citizens of a Republic a work which breathes the very essence of Republicanism."

The editor of any paper, the author of any book, compiled and published in the United States, were wiser to keep such sentiments, if he possesses them, confined to his own bosom. If "peculiar circumstances" compel him to seek a support in a country whose institutions are repugnant to him, let him at least evince sufficient gratitude to the land that feeds and protects him, to abstain from gratuitous insult. It is very evident that such anti-American feeling is far from popular with us. We wish our author many editions with a new and widely different preface.

Biographical Essays. By THOMAS DE QUINCEY.
Boston: Ticknor, Reid & Fields.

This volume is one of a series of the writings of De Quincey, in the course of publication by this eminent Boston firm.

The collection of these famous essays, which lay scattered through so many of the magazines of the day, was a happy thought and a most welcome one to the reading public.

De Quincey is, we think, the very best magazine writer of the age. Full of knowledge as he is on all topics of literature; learned in all the

markably clear and forcible style; keen in his wit, and with remarkable powers of analysis, he is undoubtedly somewhat conceited, and the confidence he has in his own powers in that particular, betrays him sometimes into a carelessness in which the reader will find him tripping. As an evidence of this we may refer to his observations on the question of the condition of Shakspeare's boyhood, page 35. He speaks contemptuously of the question as having no practical bearing He says: "The tree has fallen; it was confessedly the noblest of the forest, and we must therefore conclude that the soil in which it flourished was either the best possible; or, if not so, any thing bad in its properties had been disarmed, and neutralized by the vital forces of the plant, or by the benignity of nature." He says it is a mere question of curiosity; whereas to us it appears the most practical of all the Shakspeare questions. Certainly, to know the constituents of the soil and other conditions in which a plant grew, is almost the only practical question to us about it. Its inherent vital forces and the "benignities" of nature are only for our admiration and reverence. But we refer to this only as a specimen of the nodding of the Homer. The volume contains admirable essays on the life of Shakspeare, of Pope, of Charles Lamb, of Goethe, and Schiller.

The Companion. After-Dinner Table Talk. By
CHETWOOD EVELYN. New-York: G. P. Putnam.

A book of jests is rightly esteemed to be the
most stupid of volumes, but by a "book of jests"
is implied simply a bundle of Joe Millerisms
bound together, and forming about as agreeable a
Companion" as would
hyenas, who go about the world with their faces
moulded by long practice into one eternal grin.

one of those human

different stamp, and comprises the choice sayings Mr. Evelyn's "Companion" is a work of a far of many of the eminent wits of all ages, from Seneca to Sydney Smith, who, as the Rev. Mr. Stiggins would express it, is our author's " particular vanity." Scintillations from Cowley, Walpole, Lamb, Ben Jonson, Sir Thomas Browne, Swift, Walton, and Fuller, sparkle throughout the book, in which no man can find a dull page.

person possessing great colloquial powers-" He We Americans have a cant phrase, applied to a talks like a book." Could any one be met with who could talk like the book before us, he would be an after-dinner companion worth meeting, and would prove the most successful of "diners-out."

America Discovered. A Poem in Twelve Books.
By AN AMERICAN. New-York: Trow.

Epic poems have of late years become, as it were, an annual infliction, and this is perhaps the most serious dispensation that has yet befallen us. Had Columbus succeeded as badly in the discovery of our Continent as we have in that of our author's talent, we fear that the "Battle of Bunker Hill" would yet remain unfought.