POETRY OF LIFE. Cha In a Preface remarkable for neatness of style and precision of thought, Miss Stickney has very properly circumscribed within definite limits the design of her work-whose title, without such explanation, might have led us to expect too much at her hands. It would have been better, however, had the fair authoress, by means of a different title, which her habits of accurate REMI their manners and free habitudes, have Remi delighted us; and cannot fail, of delighting, The Poetry of Life. By Sarah Stickney, Author of eneral, all lovers of the stirring and life-like. A "Pictures of Private Life." Philadelphia: Republished novelist of talent would find New Orleans the place of by Carey, Lea, and Blanchard. all places for the localities of a romance-and in such These two volumes are subdivided as follows. case he might derive important aid from the "South-racteristics of Poetry-Why certain objects are, or are West" of Professor Ingraham. At page 140, vol. i, we not poetical-Individual Associations-General Assowere much interested in the following account of a fire. ciations-The Poetry of Flowers-The Poetry of Trees -The Poetry of Animals-The Poetry of Evening"As I gained the front of this mass of human beings, The Poetry of the Moon-The Poetry of Rural Lifethat activity which most men possess, who are not The Poetry of Painting-The Poetry of Sound-The modelled after "fat Jack," enabled me to gain an elevation whence I had an unobstructed view of the whole Poetry of Language-The Poetry of Love-The Poetry scene of conflagration. The steamers were lying side of Grief-The Poetry of Woman-The Poetry of the by side at the Levée, and one of them was enveloped Bible-The Poetry of Religion-Impression-Imaginain wreaths of flame, bursting from a thousand cotton tion-Power-Taste-Conclusion. bales, which were piled, tier above tier, upon her decks. The inside boat, though having no cotton on board, was rapidly consuming, as the huge streams of fire lapped and twined around her. The night was perfectly calm, but a strong whirlwind had been created by the action of the heat upon the atmosphere, and now and then it swept down in its invisible power, with the "noise of a rushing mighty wind," and as the huge serpentine flames darted upward, the solid cotton bales would be borne round the tremendous vortex like fea-thinking might have easily suggested, rendered this thers, and then-hurled away into the air, blazing like explanation unnecessary. Except in some very rare ingiant meteors-would descend heavily and rapidly into stances, where a context may be tolerated, if not altothe dark bosom of the river. The next moment they gether justified, a work, either of the pen or the pencil, would rise and float upon the surface, black unshapely masses of tinder. As tier after tier, bursting with fire, should contain within itself every thing requisite for fell in upon the burning decks, the sweltering flames, its own comprehension. "The design of the present volfor a moment smothered, preceded by a volcanic dis-umes," says Miss Stickney, "is to treat of poetic feelcharge of ashes, which fell in showers upon the gaping spectators, would break from their confinement, and darting upward with multitudinous large wads of cotton, shoot them away through the air, filling the sky for a moment with a host of flaming balls. Some of them were borne a great distance through the air, and falling lightly upon the surface of the water, floated, from their buoyancy, a long time unextinguished. The river became studded with fire, and as far as the eye could reach below the city, it presented one of the most magnificent, yet awful spectacles, I had ever beheld or We remember having read the "Pictures of Private imagined. Literally spangled with flame, those burn-Life" with interest of no common kind, and with a ing fragments in the distance being diminished to specks corresponding anxiety to know something more of the of light, it had the appearance, though far more dazzling and brilliant, of the starry firmament. There author. In them were apparent the calm enthusiasm, were but two miserable engines to play with this gam- and the analytical love of beauty, which are now the disbolling monster, which, one moment lifting itself to a tinguishing features of the volumes before us. We great height in the air, in huge spiral wreaths, like have perused the "Poetry of Life" with an earnestness some immense snake, at the next would contract itself of attention, and a degree of real pleasure very seldom within its glowing furnace, or coil and dart along the decks like troops of fiery serpents, and with the roaring excited in our minds. It is a work giving evidence of more profundity than discrimination-with no ordinary quantum of either. What is said, if not always indisHaving spoken thus far of the "South-West," in putable, is said with a simplicity, and a scrupulous terms of commendation, we must now be allowed to accuracy which leave us, not for one moment, in doubt assert, in plain words, what we have before only partially of what is intended, and impress us, at the same time, hinted, that the Professor is indebted, generally, for his with a high opinion of the author's ability. Miss success, more to the innate interest of his subject matter, Stickney's manner is very good-her English pure, than to his manner of handling it. Numerous instances harmonious, in every respect unexceptionable. With of bad taste occur throughout the volumes. The con- a strong understanding, and withal a keen relish for stant straining after wit and vivacity is a great blemish. the minor forms of poetic excellence—a strictness of Faulty constructions of style force themselves upon conception which will ever prevent her from running one's attention at every page. Gross blunders in syn- into gross error-she is still, we think, insufficiently tax abound. The Professor does not appear to under-alive to the delicacies of the beautiful-unable fully to stand French. This is no sin in itself-but to quote appreciate the energies of the sublime. what one does not understand is a folly. Turks' Heads à la Grec, for example, is ridiculous—see page 34, vol. i. Bulls too ore occasionally met with-which are none the better for being classical bulls. We cannot bear to hear of Boreas blowing Zephyrs. noise of a volcano." ing, rather than poetry; and this feeling I have endeavored to describe as the great connecting link between our intellects and our affections; while the customs of society, as well as the license of modern literature, afford me sufficient authority for the use of the word life in its widely extended sense, as comprehending all the functions, attributes, and capabilities peculiar to sentient beings." We were forcibly impressed with these opinions, in looking over, for the second time, the chapter of our fair authoress, "On the Poetry of Language." What we have just said in relation to her accuracy of thought and expression, and her appreciation of the minor forms of poetic excellence, will be exemplified in the passage we now quote, beginning at page 187, vol. i. "There can scarcely be a more beautiful and appropriate arrangement of words, than in the following stanza from Childe Harold: The sails were filled, and fair the light winds blew, The silent thought, nor from his lips did come Without committing a crime so heinous as that of entirely spoiling this verse, it is easy to alter it so as to bring it down to the level of ordinary composition; and thus we may illustrate the essential difference between poetry and mere versification. The sails were trimm'd and fair the light winds blew, All of these pieces, we believe, have been published before. Of most of them we can speak with certaintyfor having, in earlier days, been enamored of their pervading spirit of mingled chivalry and pathos, we cannot now forget them even in their new habiliments. Old Maids-The Country Cousin-and one or two others, we have read before--and should be willing to read again. These, our ancient friends, are worthy of the pen which wrote "Hope Leslie" and "The Linwoods." "Old Maids," in spite of the equivocal nature of its title, is full of noble and tender feeling--a specimen of fine writing, involving in its melancholy details what we must consider the beau-ideal of feminine disinterestedness--the ne plus ultra of sisterly devotion. The "Country Cousin" possesses all the peculiar features of It is impossible not to be struck with the harmony the tale just spoken of, with something more of serious of the original words as they are placed in this stanza. and even solemn thought. The "Chivalric Sailor" is The very sound is graceful, as well as musical; like the motion of the winds and waves, blended with the full of a very different, and of a more exciting, although majestic movement of a gallant ship. "The sails were less painful interest. We remember its original appearfilled" conveys no association with the work of man; ance under the title of "Modern Chivalry." The but substitute the word trimmed, and you see the busy" Romance of Real Life" we now read for the first sailors at once. The word 'waft follows in perfect time--it is a tale of striking vicissitudes, but not the unison with the whole of the preceding line, and main- best thing we have seen from the pen of Miss Sedgtains the invisible agency of the 'light winds;' while The wish, nor from his silent lips did come All this is well-but what follows is not so. "It may be amusing" says Miss Stickney, at page 189, "to see how a poet, and that of no mean order, can undesignedly murder his own offspring"--and she proceeds to extract, from Shelley, in illustration, some passages, of whose exquisite beauty she has evidently not the slightest comprehension. She commences with the word 'glad' before it, gives an idea of their power wick-that a story is "founded on fact," is very as an unseen intelligence. Fading is also a happy seldom a recommendation. "The Catholic Iroquois" expression, to denote the gradual obscurity and disap- is also new to us--a stirring history of Christian faith pearing of the white rocks;' but the circumambient and martyrdom. The "Reminiscence of Federalism" foam' is perhaps the most poetical expression of the whole, and such as could scarcely have proceeded from relates to a period of thirty years ago in New Enga low or ordinary mind." land-is a mingled web of merriment and gloom--and replete with engrossing interest. "Mary Dyre" is a verácious sketch of certain horrible and bloody facts which are a portion of the History of Fanaticism. Mary is slightly mentioned by Sewal, the annalist of "the people called Quakers," to which sect the maiden belonged. She died in vindicating the rights of conscience. This piece originally appeared in one of our Souvenirs. "St. Catherine's Eve" is "une histoire touchante qui montre à quel point l'enseignement religieux pouvoit étre perverti, et combien le Clergé étoit loin d'etre le gardien des mœurs publiques"--the tale appertains to the thirteenth century. "Cacoëthes Scribendi" is told with equal grace and vivacity. "The Canary Family" is a tale for the young--brief, pointed and quaint. But the best of the series, in every respect, is the sweet and simple history of "The Eldest Sister." "Music, when soft voices die "Sicken" is here italicized; and the author of the "Poetry of Life" thinks the word so undeniably offensive as to render a farther allusion to it unnecessary. A few lines below, she quotes, in the same tone of criticism, the terrific image in the Ode to Naples. "Naples!-thou heart of men, which ever pantest Naked, beneath the lidless eye of Heaven!" While we rejoice that Miss Sedgwick has thought proper to condense into their present form these evidences of her genius which have been so long floating at random before the eye of the world-still we think her rash in having risked the publication so immedi. And again, on the next page, from the same author-ately after "The Linwoods." None of these "Sketches" "Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all We can desire, O Love!" have the merit of an equal number of pages in that very fine novel--and the descent from good to inferior (although the inferior be very far from bad) is most Miss Stickney should immediately burn her copy of generally detrimental to literary fame. Facilis descensus Shelley-it is to her capacities a sealed book. Averni. REMINISCENCES OF NIEBUHR. Reminiscences of an Intercourse with Mr. Niebuhr, the Historian, during a Residence with him in Rome, in the years 1822 and 1823. By Francis Lieber, Professor of History and Political Economy in South Carolina College. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea, and Blanchard. who, speaking of the characters in the Iliad, says"My beloved, Ulysses is Christ, and Achilles the Holy Ghost: Helen represents the Human Soul-Troy is Hell-and Paris the Devil" Dr. Francis Lieber himself is well known to the Ame rican public as the editor of the Encyclopædia Americana, in which compilation he was assisted by Edward Mr. Niebuhr has exercised a very powerful influence Wigglesworth, and T. G. Bradford, Esqrs. The first on the spirit of his age. One of the most important original work of our author, we believe, was called branches of human science has received, not only addi- Journal of my Residence in Greece, and was issued at tional light, but an entirely novel interest and character Leipzig in 1823. This book was written at the instifrom his exertions. Those historiographers of Rome gation of Mr. Niebuhr, who personally superintended who wrote before him, were either men of insufficient the whole; Mr. L. reading to the historian and his wife, talents, or, possessing talents, were not practical states- every morning at breakfast, what had been completed men. Niebuhr is the only writer of Roman history in the preceding afternoon. Since that period we have who unites intellect of a high order with the indispen-seen, from the same pen, only The Stranger in America, sable knowledge of what may be termed the art, in in two volumes, full of interest and extensively circucontradistinction to the science, of government. While, | lated—and the book whose title forms the heading of then, we read with avidity even common-place memo- this article. rials of common-place men, (à fact strikingly characteristic of a period not inaptly denominated by the Germans "the age of wigs,") it cannot be supposed that a book like the one now before us, will fail to make a deep impression upon the mind of the public. Beyond his Roman History, our acquaintance extends to only one or two of Mr. Niebuhr's publications. We remember the Life of his Father, of which an English translation was printed some time ago, in one of the tracts of the Library of Useful Knowledge, issued under the direction of the Society for the diffusion of Useful Knowledge-and, we have seen The Description of the City of Rome (one volume of it) which appeared in 1829 or '30, professedly by Bunsen and Platner, but in the getting up of which there can be no doubt of Mr. Niebuhr's having had the greater share. The Representation of the Internal Government of Great Britain, by Baron Von Vincke, Berlin, 1815, was also written, most probably, by Mr. N. who, however, announced himself as editor alone. "I published," says he, in the Reminiscences we are now reviewing, "I published the work on Great Britain after that unfortunate time when a foreign people ruled over us (Germans) with a cruel sword, and a heartless bureaucracy, in order to show what liberty is. Those who oppressed us called themselves all the time the harbingers of liberty, at the very moment they sucked the heart blood of our people; and we wanted to show what liberty in reality is." A translation of an Essay on the Allegory in the first canto of Dante, written by our historian during his perusal of the poet, and intended to be read, or perhaps actually read, in one of the learned societies of Rome, is appended to the present volume. Mr. L. copied it, by permission of the author, from the original in Italian, which was found in a copy of Dante belonging to Mr. Niebuhr. This Essay, we think, will prove of deeper interest to readers of Italian than even Mr. Lieber has anticipated. Its opinions differ singularly from those of all the commentators on Dante-the most of whom maintain that the wood (la selva) in this famous Allegory, should be understood as the condition of the human soul, shrouded in vice; the hill (il colle) encircled by light, but difficult of access, as virtue; and the furious beasts (il fere) which attack the poet in his attempt at ascending, as carnal sins—an interpretation, always putting us in mind of the monk in the Gesta Romanorum, Not the least striking portion of this latter work, is its Preface, embracing forty-five pages. Niebuhr's noble nature is, herein, rendered hardly more apparent than the mingled simplicity and enthusiasm of his biographer. The account given by Mr. L. of his first introduction to the Prussian minister-of the perplexing circumstances which led to that introduction—of his invitation to dinner, and consequent embarrassment on account of his scanty nether habiliments-of his final domestication in the house of his patron, and of the great advantages accruing to himself therefrom—are all related without the slightest attempt at prevarication, and in a style of irresistibly captivating bonhommie and naiveté. Mr. Lieber went, in 1821, to Greece-led, as he himself relates, "by youthful ardor, to assist the oppressed and struggling descendants of that people, whom all civilized nations love and admire." With a thousand others, he was disappointed in the hope of rendering any assistance to the objects of his sympathy. He found it impossible either to fight, or to get a dinnereither to live or to die. In 1822, therefore he resolved, with many other Philhellenes, to return. Money, however, was scarce, and the adventurer had sold nearly every thing he possessed-but to remain longer was to starve. He accordingly "bargained with a Greek," and took passage at Missolonghi (Messalunghi) in a small vessel bound for Ancona. After a rough passage, during which the "tartan" was forced to seek shelter in the bay of Gorzola, the wished-for port was finally reached. Here, being altogether without money, Mr. Lieber wrote to a friend in Rome, enclosing the letter to an eminent artist. "My friend," says Mr. L. "happened to be at Rome, and to have money, and with the promptness of a German student, sent me all he possessed at the time." This assistance came very seasonably. It enabled the Philhellenist to defray the expenses of his quarantine at Ancona. Had he failed in paying them, the Captain would have been bound for the sum, and Mr. L. would have been obliged finally to discharge the debt, by serving as a sailor on board the Greek vessel. Having, at length, obtained his pratica, he determined upon visiting Rome; and the anxiety with which he appears to have contemplated the defeat of his hopes in this respect is strikingly characteristic of the man. His VOL. II.-17 passport was in bad order, and provisional, and he had broke off, asking me to return to dinner. I hesitated to make his way with it through the police office at in accepting the invitation, which he seemed unable to Ancona. He was informed too, that orders had been understand. He probably thought that a person in my received from Rome forbidding the signature of pass-this kind; and, in fact any one might feel gratified in situation ought to be glad to receive an invitation of ports in the possession of persons coming from Greece, being asked to dine with him, especially in Rome. except for a direct journey home. "You are a Prus- When I saw that my motive for declining so flattering sian," said the officer," and I must direct your passport an invitation was not understood, I said, throwing a home to Germany. I will direct it to Florence: your glance at my dress, "Really, sir, I am not in a state to minister there may direct it back to Rome. Or I will and said with some animation, "Are diplomatists aldine with an excellency." He stamped with his foot, direct it to any place in Tuscany which you may ways believed to be so cold-hearted! I am the same choose; for through Tuscany you must travel in order that I was in Berlin when I delivered my lectures: to reach Germany." Mr. L. assures us he never felt your remark was wrong." No argument could be more wretched than on hearing this announcement. urged against such reasons. He had made his way round Rome without seeing the tion, abounding in rich and various knowledge and I recollect that dinner with delight. His conversaEternal City. The examination of a map of Italy, striking observations; his great kindness; the acquainthowever, gave him new hope. It pointed out to him ance I made with Mrs. Niebuhr; his lovely children, how near the south-western frontier line of Tuscany who were so beautiful, that when, at a later period, Í approaches to Rome. The road from Ancona to Orbi-used to walk with them, the women would exclaim, tello, he thought, was nearly the same as that to the (which I had not enjoyed for a long time) in a high "Ma guardate, guardate, che angeli!"-a good dinner object of his desires, and he therefore requested the vaulted room, the ceiling of which was painted in the officer to direct his passport to Orbitello. "Italians style of Italian palaces; a picture by the mild Francia generally," says Mr. Lieber, are exceedingly poor close by; the sound of the murmuring fountain in the geographers." The gentleman whom he addressed, garden, and the refreshing beverages in coolers, which inquired of another in the adjoining room, whether the most masterly pictures of the Italian schools ;—in I had seen, but the day before, represented in some of Orbitello was in Tuscany, or belonged to the Papal short, my consciousness of being at dinner with Niebuhr territory. Mr. L. pointed out the place on the map: in his house in Rome-and all this in so bold relief to it was situated just within the colors which distinguish-my late and not unfrequently disgusting sufferings, ed Tuscany from the other states of Italy. This satisfied the police, and the passport was made out. Having hired a vetturino our traveller proceeded towards Orbitello. A few miles beyond Nepi, at the Co-description on paper. Objects of great effect for the lonneta, the road divides, and the coachman was desired to pursue the path leading to Rome. A bribe silenced all objections, and when near the city, Mr. L. jumped out of the carriage, and entered the Porta del Populo. But it was impossible to dwell in Rome without the sanction of the police, and this sanction could not be obtained without a certificate from the Prussian minis ter that our friend's passport was in order. Mr. Lieber therefore "hoping that a scholar who had written the history of Rome could not be so cruel as to drive away thence a pilgrim without allowing him time to see and study it," resolved on disclosing his situation frankly to Mr. Niebuhr. The Prussian minister resided at the Palazzo Orsini -he was engaged and could not be seen-but the secretary of the legation received the visiter kindly, and having learned his story, retired to an inner apartment. Soon afterwards he returned with a paper written in Mr. Niebuhr's own hand. It was the necessary permission to reside in Rome. A sum of money was at the same time presented to Mr. L. which the secretary assured him was part of a sum Prince Henry (brother to the reigning king,) had placed at the minister's disposal for the assistance of gentlemen who might return from Greece. Mr. L. was informed also that Niebuhr would see him on the following day. The result of the interview we must give in the words of our author. would have rendered the moment one of almost perfect enjoyment and happiness, had it not been for an annoyance which, I have no doubt, will appear here a mere trifle. However, reality often widely differs from its moment become light as air, and others, shadows and vapors in reality, swell into matters of weighty consideby the way, which applies to our daily life, as well as ration when subjected to the recording pen;-a truth, to transactions of powerful effect;-and it is, therefore, the sifting tact which constitutes one of the most necessary, yet difficult, requisites for a sound historian. My dress consisted as yet of nothing better than a pair of unblacked shoes, such as are not unfrequently wool; the brownish pantaloons frequently worn by worn in the Levant; a pair of socks of coarse Greek sea-captains in the Mediterranean; and a blue frockcoat, through which two balls had passed-a fate to which the blue cloth cap had likewise been exposed. The socks were exceedingly short, hardly covering my when I was in a sitting position, they refused me the ankles, and so indeed were the pantaloons; so that, charity of meeting, with an obstinacy which reminded me of the irreconcileable temper of the two brothers in Schiller's Bride of Messina. There happened to dine with Mr. Niebuhr another lady besides Mrs. Niebuhr; the conclusion of the dinner, the children rose and played and my embarrassment was not small when, towards about on the ground, and I saw my poor extremities exposed to all the frank remarks of quick-sighted childhood; fearing as I did, at the same time, the still more trying moments after dinner, when I should be obliged to take coffee near the ladies, unprotected by the kindly shelter of the table. Mr. Niebuhr observed, perhaps, that something embarrassed me, and he redoubled, if possible, his kindness. After dinner he proposed a walk, and asked the ladies to accompany us. I pitied them; but as a gentleman When I went the next morning at the appointed of their acquaintance had dropped in by this time, who time, as I thought, Mr. Niebuhr met me on the stairs, gladly accepted the offer to walk with us, they were being on the point of going out. He received me with spared the mortification of taking my arm. Mr. Niekindness and affability, returned with me to his room, buhr, probably remembering what I had said of my made me relate my whole story, and appeared much own appearance in the morning, put his arm under pleased that I could give him some information respect-mine, and thus walked with me for a long time, After ing Greece, which seemed to be not void of interest to him. Our conversation lasted several hours, when he * Das war Kleinlich were his words. our return, when I intended to take leave, he asked me | re-publication of old matter-whether we are indebted whether I wished for any thing. I said I should like for it to one author, or to more than one-in short, all to borrow his History. He had but one copy, to which those indispensable details which appertain to a book he had added notes, and which he did not wish, therefore, to lend out of his house; but he said he would get considered merely as a book. The habit of neglecting a copy for me. As to his other books, he gave me the these things, is becoming very prevalent in America. key of his library to take whatever I liked. He laugh- Works are daily re-published, from foreign copies, withed when I teturned laden with books, and dismissed me out any prima facie evidence by which we may distinin the kindest manner. guish them from original publications; and many a reader, of light literature especially, finds himself in the dilemma of praising or condemning unjustly as American, what, most assuredly, he has no good reason for supposing to be English. Mr. Lieber became the constant companion of Niebuhr in his daily walks after dinner, during one of which the proposition was discussed to which we have formerly referred-that of our author's writing an account of his journey in Greece. In March 1823, the minister quitted In the Young Wife's Book now before us, are seventyRome, and took Mr. Lieber with him to Naples. By three articles. Of these, one is credited to the thirtyway of Florence, Pisa, and Bologna, they afterwards first chapter of Proverbs—nine to Standford's Lady's Gift went to the Tyrol-and in Inspruck they parted. A-and two to an Old English Divine. Some four or five correspondence of the most familiar and friendly nature was, however, kept up, with little intermission, until the death of the historian in 1831. belong to the Spectator. Seven or eight we recognize as old acquaintances without being able to call to mind where we have seen them; and about fifteen or twenty bear internal evidence of a foreign origin. Of the ba merit, which is, in all instances, very great. Judgment and fine taste have been employed, undoubtedly, in the book. As a whole it is excellent-but, for all we know to the contrary, it may have been originally written, translated, or compiled, in Philadelphia, in London, or in Timbuctoo. Mr. Lieber disclaims the design of any thing like a complete record of all the interesting or important sen-lance we know nothing whatever beyond their intrinsic timents of Niebuhr during his own residence with him. He does not profess to give even all the most important facts or opinions. He observes, with great apparent justice, that he lived in too constant a state of excitement to record regularly all he saw or heard. His papers too were seized by the police—and have undergone its criticism. Some have been lost by this process, and others in a subsequent life of wandering. Still we can assure our readers that those presented to us in the present volume, are of the greatest interest. They enable us to form a more accurate idea of the truly great man to whom they relate than we have hitherto entertained, and have moreover, not unfrequently, an interest altogether their own. YOUNG WIFE'S BOOK. The Young Wife's Book; A Manual of Moral, Religious, and Domestic Duties. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea, and Blanchard, We can conscientiously recommend this little book, not only to that particular class of our fair friends for whom it is most obviously intended, but, in general, to all lovers of good reading. We had expected to find in it a series of mere homilies on the Duties of a Wife, but were agreeably disappointed. Such things are, no doubt, excellent in their way, but unhappily are rarely of much service, for the simple reason that they are rarely read. Unless strikingly novel, and well written, they are too apt to be disregarded. The present volume is made up of mingled amusement and instruction. Short and pithy Lessons on Moral Duties, on the Minor Obligations of Married Life, on Manners, on Fashion, on Dress-Dialogues, and Anecdotes connected with subjects of a similar nature-form the basis of the book. In one respect we must quarrel with the publication. Neither the title page, nor the Preface, gives us any information in regard to the biblical history of the work. It may be taken for granted that every reader, in perusing a book, feels some solicitude to know, for example, who wrote it; or (if this information be not attainable,) at least where it was written—whether in his native country, or in a foreign land—whether it be original, or a compilation-whether it be a new publication or a ROBINSON CRUSOE. The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York, Mariner: with a Biographical Account of Defoe. Illustrated with Fifty Characteristic Cuts, from Drawings by William Harvey, Esq. and engraved by Adams. New York: Published by Harper and Brothers. This publication is worthy of the Harpers. It is an honor to the country-not more in the fine taste displayed in its getting up, than as evincing a just appreciation of an invaluable work. How fondly do we recur, in memory, to those enchanted days of our boyhood when we first learned to grow serious over Robinson Crusoe !-when we first found the spirit of wild adventure enkindling within us, as, by the dim fire light, we labored out, line by line, the marvellous import of those pages, and hung breathless and trembling with eagerness over their absorbing-over their enchaining interest! Alas! the days of desolate islands are no more! "Nothing farther," as Vapid says, can be done in that line." Wo, henceforward, to the Defoe who shall prate to us of "undiscovered bournes." There is positively not a square inch of new ground for any future Selkirk. Neither in the Indian, in the Pacific, nor in the Atlantic, has he a shadow of hope. The Southern Ocean has been incontinently ransacked, and in the North-Scoresby, Franklin, Parry, Ross, Ross & Co. have been little better than so many salt water Paul Prys. While Defoe would have been fairly entitled to immortality had he never written Robinson Crusoe, yet his many other very excellent writings have nearly faded from our attention, in the superior lustre of the Adventures of the Mariner of York. What better possible species of reputation could the author have desired for that book than the species which it has so long enjoyed? It has become a household thing in nearly every |