of this rara avis with an evil and suspicious eye. The merveille. His ingenuity is not less remarkable than thing was improbable, we thought. Mr. Reynolds his grammatical skill. Indeed he is never at a loss. It was quizzing us-the brothers Harper were hoaxed- is nonsense to laugh at his calling Quakers Tremebundi. and Messieurs Anthon and Co. were mistaken. At all Tremebundi is as good Latin as Trementes, and more events we had made up our minds to be especially se- euphonical Latin than Quackeri-for both which latter vere upon Mr. Glass, and to put no faith in that species expressions we have the authority of Schroeckh: and of classical Latin which should emanate from the back glandes plumbeæ, for bullets, is something better, we woods of Ohio. We now solemnly make a recanta- imagine, than Wyttenbach's bombarda, for a cannon; tion of our preconceived opinions, and so proceed im- Milton's globulus, for a button; or Grotius' capilamentum, mediately to do penance for our unbelief. for a wig. As a specimen of Mr. G's Latinity, we subjoin an extract from the work. It is Judge Marshall's announcement in Congress of the death of Washington. Mr. Reynolds is entitled to the thanks of his countrymen for his instrumentality in bringing this book before the public. It has already done wonders in the cause of the classics; and we are false prophets if it do not ultimately prove the means of stirring up to a new life and a regenerated energy that love of the learned tongues which is the surest protection of our own vernacular language from impurity, but which, we are grieved to see, is in a languishing and dying condition in the land. "Rempublicam hancce nostram, tam longè latèque divisam, unus ferè Washingtonius ordinandi et condendi laudem meret. We have read Mr. R's preface with great attention; and meeting with it, as we have done, among a multiplicity of worldly concerns, and every-day matters and occurrences, it will long remain impressed upon our minds as an episode of the purest romance. We have no difficulty in entering fully with Mr. Reynolds into his kindly feelings towards Mr. Glass. We perceive at once that we could have loved and reverenced the man. His image is engraven upon our fancy. Indeed we behold him now-at this very moment--with all his oddities and appurtenances about him. We behold the low log-cabin of a school-house-the clap-board roof but indifferently tight-the holes, ycleped windows, covered with oiled paper to keep out the air-the benches of hewn timber stuck fast in the ground-cumque tertiò præses fieri facillimè potuisset, ad villam, tamen, the stove, the desk, the urchins, and the Profes- suam, secessit, seque ab omni munere civili in posterum procul amoveri, ex animo cupiebat. Utcunque vulgi opinio, quoad alios sor. We can hear the worthy pedagogue's classical homines, mutetur, Washingtonii, certè, fama sempiterna et eadem Salves,' and our ears are still tingling with his hyper-permanebit. Honoremus, igitur, patres conscripti, hunc tantum classical exhortations. In truth he was a man after our virum mortuum: civitatum fœderatarum Americanarum consili. own heart, and, were we not Alexander, we should um publicum civium omnium sententias, hác una in re, declaret " have luxuriated in being Glass. "Cum populi liberi magistratus summus bis constitutus esset, "Quamobrem, chartas quasdam hîc manu teneo, de quibus Congressûs sententiam rogare velim ut, nempe, civitatum fœderatarum Americanarum consilium publicum præsidem visat, simul cum eo, gravi de hoc casu, condoliturum: ut Congressûs principis sella vestibus pullis ornetur; utque Congressus pars reliqua vestibus pullis induatur: utque, denique, idonea à Congressu parentur, quibus planè manifestum fiat, Congressum, virum bello, pace, civiumque animis primum, honore summo afficere velle."* The 'barbarisms' of Mr. Glass are always so well in accordance with the genius of Latin declension, as A word or two respecting the Latinity of the book. We sincerely think that it has been underrated While we agree with Mr. Reynolds, for whose opinions, generally, we have a high respect, that the work can boast of none of those elegancies of diction, no rich display of those beauties and graces which adorn the pages of some modern Latinists, we think he has forgotten, in his search after the mere flowers of Latinity, the peculiar nature of that labor in which Mr. Glass has been employed. Simplicity here was the most reasonable, and indeed the only admissible elegance. And if this be taken into consideration, we really can call to mind, at this moment, no modern Latin compo-his illustrious actions. And although, even, it were not customsition whatever much superior to the Washingtoniiary to render honor unto those who have spent their lives in Vita of Mr. Glass. *The sad tidings which yesterday brought us, this day has but too surely confirmed. Washington is no more. The hero, the general, the philosopher-he, upon whom, in the hour of danger, all eyes were turned, now lives in the remembrance, only, of promoting the welfare of their fellow men, still, so great are the deeds of Washington, that the whole American nation is bound to give a public manifestation of that grief which is so extensively prevalent. The clothing of modern ideas in a language dead for centuries, is a task whose difficulty can never be fully appreciated by those who have never undertaken it. Washington, we had nearly said Washington alone, deserves The various changes and modifications, which, since the credit of regulating and building up, as it were, the widely the Augustan age, have come to pass in the sciences of extended territory of this our Republic. Having finally achieved war and legislation especially, must render any attempt all for which he had accepted the command of the American similar to that which we are now criticising, one of the forces, he converted his sword into a ploughshare, and joyfully exchanged war for peace. When the weakness of the United most hazardous and awkward imaginable. But we States of America appeared manifest to all, and the bands by cannot help thinking that our author has succeeded à | which the very extensive land of Columbus was held together, NORMAN LESLIE. Norman Leslie. A Tale of the Present Times. New York: Published by Harper and Brothers. never to appear at variance with the spirit of the language, or out of place in their respective situations. His 'equivalents,' too, are, in all cases, ingeniously managed and we are mistaken if the same can be said of the 'equivalents' of Erasmus—certainly not of those Well!-here we have it! This is the book-the book used by Grotius, or Addison, or Schroeckh, or Bucha- par excellence-the book bepuffed, beplastered, and benan, neither of whom are scrupulous in introducing Mirrored: the book "attributed to” Mr. Blank, and words, from which a modern one is deduced, in the ex- "said to be from the pen" of Mr. Asterisk: the book act sense of the English analogous term—although that which has been "about to appear”—“in press”—“ in term may have been greatly perverted from its original | progress”—“ in preparation”—and “forthcoming:” the meaning. book "graphic" in anticipation-" talented” a priori— Having said thus much in favor of the Washingtonii—and God knows what in prospectu. For the sake of Vita, we may now be permitted to differ in opinion every thing puffed, puffing, and puffable, let us take a with Professor Wylie and others who believe that this peep at its contents! book will be a valuable acquisition to our classical Norman Leslie, gentle reader, a Tale of the Present schools, as initiatory to Cæsar or Nepos. We are Times, is, after all, written by nobody in the world but quite as fully impressed with the excellences of Mr. Theodore S. Fay, and Theodore S. Fay is nobody in Glass' work as the warmest of his admirers; and per- the world but "one of the Editors of the New York haps, even more than any of them, are we anxious to Mirror." The book commences with a Dedication to do it justice. Still the book is as it professes to be-Colonel Herman Thorn, in which that worthy persona Life of Washington; and it treats, consequently, of age, whoever he may be, is held up, in about a dozen events and incidents occurring in a manner utterly un-lines, to the admiration of the public, as "hospitable," known to the Romans, and at a period many centuries "generous," "attentive," "benevolent," "kind-heartafter their ceasing to exist as a nation. If, therefore, ed," "liberal," "highly-esteemed," and withal “a paby Latin we mean the Language spoken by the Latins, tron of the arts." But the less we say of this matter a large proportion of the work-disguise the fact as we the better. may-is necessarily not Latin at all. Did we indeed de- In the Preface Mr. Fay informs us that the most sign to instruct our youth in a language of possibilities-important features of his story are founded on fact— did we wish to make them proficient in the tongue which might have been spoken in ancient Rome, had ancient Rome existed in the nineteenth century, we could scarcely have a better book for the purpose than the Washington of Mr. Glass. But we do not perceive that, in teaching Latin, we have any similar view. And we have given over all hope of making this language the medium of universal communication-that day-dream, with a thousand others, is over. Our object then, at present, is simply to imbue the mind of the student with the idiom, the manner, the thought, and above all, with the words of antiquity. If this is not our object, what is it? But this object cannot be effect-impertinences, thinks it best "frankly to bespeak the ed by any such work as the Washingtonii Vita. were in danger of being loosened, we have seen Washington the first among those who re-invigorated this our glorious Republic. that he has availed himself of certain poetical licensesthat he has transformed character, and particularly the character of a young lady, (oh fi! Mr. Fay—oh, Mr. Fay, fi!) that he has sketched certain peculiarities with a mischievous hand-and that the art of novel writing is as dignified as the art of Canova, Mozart or Raphael,— from which we are left to infer, that Mr. Fay himself is as dignified as Raphael, Mozart, and Canova-all three. Having satisfied us on this head, he goes on to say something about an humble student, with a feeble hand, throwing groupings upon a canvass, and standing behind a curtain: and then, after perpetrating all these indulgence of the solemn and sapient critics." Body of Bacchus! we, at least, are neither solemn nor sapient, and, therefore, do not feel ourselves bound to show him a shadow of mercy. But will any body tell us what is When his beloved country called him to quiet tumults, and to avert the war with which she was menaced, we have once more the object of Prefaces in general, and what is the meanseen Washington abandon that domestic tranquillity so dearing of Mr. Fay's Preface in particular? to him, and plunge into the waters of civil life to preserve the As far as we can understand the plot of Norman liberties and happiness of his countrymen: and the counsels with Leslie, it is this. A certain family reside in Italy— which he re-established American liberty will be, as I hope, perpetual. "independent," "enlightened," "affectionate," "happy,”—and all that. Their villa, of course, stands upon the seashore, and their whole establishment is, we are assured, " a scene of Heaven," &c. Mr. Fay says he will not even attempt to describe it—why, therefore, should we? A daughter of this family is nineteen when she is wooed by a young Neapolitan, Rinaldo, of “mean extraction, but of great beauty and talent." The lover, When he had been twice appointed the Chief Magistrate of a free people, and when, for the third time, he might easily have been President, he nevertheless retired to his farm, and really desired to be freed from all civil offices forever. However vulgar opinion may vary in respect to other men, the fame of Washington will, surely, be the same to all eternity. Therefore, let us show our reverence for this so great man who is departed, and let this public counsel of the United States of America declare upon this one subject the opinion of all our citizens. For this end I hold these resolutions in my hand, concerning being a man of suspicious character, is rejected by the which I would wish the opinion of Congress, viz: that this pub- parents, and a secret marriage ensues. The lady's lic counsel of the United States of America should visit the Presi-brother pursues the bridegroom-they fight-and the dent to condole with him upon this heavy calamity-that the former is killed. The father and mother die (it is imspeaker's chair be arrayed in black-that the members of Con- possible to see for what purpose they ever lived) and gress wear mourning--and lastly, that arrangements be entered Rinaldo flies to Venice. Upon rejoining her husband in that city, the lady (for Mr. Fay has not thought her worth enduing with a specific appellation) discovers into by this assembly, in which it may be made manifest that Congress wish to do every honor to the man first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen. him, for the first time, to be a rascal. One fine day he announces his intention of leaving herself and son for an indefinite time. The lady beseeches and finally threatens. "It was the first unfolding," says she, in a letter towards the dénouement of the story, "of that character which neither he nor I knew belonged to my nature. It was the first uncoiling of the basilisk within me, (good Heavens, a snake in a lady's stomach!). He gazed on me incredulously, and cooly smiled. You remember that smile-I fainted!!!" Alas! Mr. Davy Crockett,—Mr. Davy Crockett, alas!—thou art beaten hollow-thou art defunct, and undone! thou hast indeed succeeded in grinning a squirrel from a tree, but it surpassed even thine extraordinary abilities to smile a lady into a fainting fit! "When I recovered"-continues the lady-"he was gone. It was two years before I could trace him. At length I found he had sailed for America. I followed him in the depth of winter-I and my child. I knew not the name he had assumed, and I was struck mute with astonishment, in your beautiful city, on beholding, surrounded by fair ladies, the form of my husband, still beautiful, and still adored. You know the rest." But as our readers may not be as well informed as the correspondent of the fair forsaken, we will enlighten them with some farther particulars. he swears that, in that case, he will never sleep until he has taken the life of both the lady and her child, which assurance puts an end to the debate. "He then frankly confesses" says Mrs. Rinaldo, in the letter which we have before quoted,-"that his passion for Miss Temple was only a mask-he loved her not. Me he said he loved. It was his intention to fly when he could raise a large sum of money, and he declared that I should be his companion." His designs, however, upon Miss Temple fail-that lady very properly discarding the rascal. Nothing daunted at this mishap our Count proceeds to make love to a certain Miss Rosalie Romain, and with somewhat bettter success. He prevails upon her to fly, and to carry with her upon her person a number of diamonds which the lover hopes to find sufficient for his necessities. He manages also to engage Mrs. Rinaldo (so we must call her for want of a better name) in his schemes. It has so happened that for some time prior to these occurrences, Clairmont and Norman Leslie, the hero of the novel, have been sworn foes. On the day fixed for Miss Romain's elopement, that young lady induces Mr. Leslie to drive her, in a gig, a short distance out of town. They are met by no less a personage than Mrs. Rinaldo herself, in another gig, and driving (proh pudor!) through the woods sola. Hereupon Miss Rosalie Ro Rinaldo, upon leaving his cara sposa, had taken ship-main very deliberately, and to the great astonishment, ping for New York, where, assuming the name of no doubt, of Mr. Leslie, gets out of that gentleman's "Count Clairmont of the French army," he succeeds gig, and into the gig of Mrs. Rinaldo. Here's plot! as in cutting a dash, or, in more proper parlance, in creat- Vapid says in the play. Our friend Norman, finding ing a sensation, among the beaux and belles of the city that nothing better can be done, turns his face towards of Gotham. One fair lady, and rich heiress, Miss Flora New York again, where he arrives, in due time, withTemple, is particularly honored by his attentions, and out farther accident or adventure. Late the same eventhe lady's mother, Mrs. T., fired with the idea of her ing Clairmont sends the ladies aboard a vessel bound daughter becoming a real countess, makes no scruple for Naples, and which is to sail in the morning—reof encouraging his addresses. Matters are in this po- turning himself, for the present, to his hotel in Broadsition when the wife of the adventurer arrives in New way. While here he receives a horse-whipping from York, and is quite bewildered with astonishment upon Mr. Leslie on account of certain insinuations in disbeholding, one snowy day, her beloved Rinaldo sleigh-paragement of that gentleman's character. Not relishing it to and fro about the streets of New York. In the midst of her amazement she is in danger of being run over by some horses, when a certain personage, by name Norman Leslie, but who might, with equal propriety, be called Sir Charles Grandison, flies to her assistance, whisks herself and child up in the very nick of time, and suddenly rescues them, as Mr. Fay has it, "from the very jaws of Death"-by which we are to understand from the very hoofs of the horses. The lady of course swoons-then recovers-and then-is excessively grateful. Her gratitude, however, being of no service just at that moment, is bottled up for use hereafter, and will no doubt, according to established usage in such cases, come into play towards the close of the second volume. But we shall see. ing this treatment he determines upon revenge, and can think of no better method of accomplishing it than the directing of public suspicion against Mr. Leslie as the murderer of Miss Romain-whose disappearance has already created much excitement. He sends a message to Mrs. Rinaldo that the vessel must sail without him, and that he would, by a French ship, meet them on their landing at Naples. He then flings a hat and feathers belonging to Miss Romain upon a stream, and her handkerchief in a wood-afterwards remaining some time in America to avert suspicion from himself. Leslie is arrested for the murder, and the proofs are damning against him. He is, however, to the great indignation of the populace, acquitted, Miss Temple appearing to testify that she actually saw Miss Romain subsequentHaving ascertained the address of Rinaldo, alias the ly to her ride with Leslie. Our hero, however, although Count Clairmont, the lady, next morning, is successful acquitted, is universally considered guilty, and, through in obtaining an interview. Then follows a second edi- the active malice of Clairmont, is heaped with every tion of entreaties and threats, but, fortunately for the species of opprobrium. Miss Temple, who, it appears, nerves of Mrs. Rinaldo, the Count, upon this occasion, is in love with him, falls ill with grief: but is cured, is so forbearing as not to indulge in a smile. She ac- after all other means have failed, by a letter from her euses him of a design to marry Miss Temple, and he lover announcing a reciprocal passion-for the young informs her that it is no concern of hers-that she is not lady has hitherto supposed him callous to her charms. his wife, their marriage having been a feigned one. Leslie himself, however, takes it into his head, at this "She would have cried him through the city for a vil- critical juncture, to travel; and, having packed up his lain," (Dust ho!—she should have advertised him) but | baggage, does actually forget himself so far as to go a Willising in foreign countries. But we have no reason | corks her bottle of gratitude, but also Flora Temple, to suppose that, goose as the young gentleman is, he Flora Temple's father, Clairmont, Kreutzner, a Geris silly enough to turn travelling correspondent to any weekly paper. In Rome, having assumed the alias of Montfort, he meets with a variety of interesting adventures. All the ladies die for him: and one in particular, Miss Antonia Torrini, the only child of a Duke with several millions of piastres, and a palace which Mr. Fay thinks very much like the City Hall in New York, absolutely throws herself sans ceremonie into his arms, and meets-tell it not in Gath!-with a flat and positive refusal. Among other persons whom he encounters is a monk Ambrose, a painter Angelo, another painter Ducci, a Marquis Alezzi, and a Countess D., which latter personage he is convinced of having seen at some prior period of his life. For a page or two we are entertained with a prospect of a conspiracy, and have great hopes that the principal characters in the plot will so far oblige us as to cut one another's throats: but (alas for human expectations!) Mr. Fay having clapped his hands, and cried "Presto!-vanish!" the whole matter ends in smoke, or, as our author beautifully expresses it, is "veiled in impenetrable mystery." man friend from New York, and, last but not least, Rosalie Romain herself; all having gone there, no doubt, at three o'clock in the morning, under the influence of that interesting young gentleman Norman Leslie's "most inexplicable and mysterious destiny." Matters now come to a crisis. The hero's innocence is established, and Miss Temple falls into his arms in consequence. Clairmont, however, thinks he can do nothing better than shoot Mr. Leslie, and is about to do so, when he is very justly and very dexterously knocked in the head by Mr. Kreutzner. Thus ends the Tale of the Present Times, and thus ends the most inestimable piece of balderdash with which the common sense of the good people of America was ever so openly or so villainously insulted. matter and manner are evidently borrowed. And here we are obliged to pause; for we can positively think of nothing farther worth even a qualified commendation. The plot, as will appear from the running outline we have given of it, is a monstrous piece of absurdity and incongruity. The characters have no character; and, with the exception of Morton, who is, (perhaps) amusing, are, one and all, vapidity itself. No attempt seems to have been made at individualization. All the good ladies and gentlemen are demi-gods and demigoddesses, and all the bad are-the d-l. The hero, Norman Leslie, "that young and refined man with a leaning to poetry," is a great coxcomb and a great fool. What else must we think of a bel-esprit who, in pick We do not mean to say that there is positively nothing in Mr. Fay's novel to commend-but there is indeed very little. One incident is tolerably managed, in which, at the burning house of Mr. Temple, Clairmont anticipates Leslie in his design of rescuing Flora. A cotillon scene, too, where Morton, a simple fop, is frequently interrupted in his attempts at making Mr. Leslie now pays a visit to the painter Ducci, and love to Miss Temple, by the necessity of forward-twois astonished at there beholding the portrait of the very ing and sachezing, (as Mr. Fay thinks proper to call it) youth whose life he saved, together with that of his is by no means very bad, although savoring too much mother, from the horses in New York. Then follows of the farcical. A duel story told by Kreutzner is a series of interesting ejaculations, among which we really good, but unfortunately not original, there being are able to remember only "horrible suspicion!" "won-a Tale in the Diary of a Physician, from which both its derful development!" "alack and alas!" with some two or three others. Mr. Leslie is, however, convinced that the portrait of the boy is, as Mr. F. gracefully has it, "inexplicably connected with his own mysterious destiny." He pays a visit to the Countess D., and demands of her if she was, at any time, acquainted with a gentleman called Clairmont. The lady very properly denies all knowledge of that character, and Mr. Leslie's "mysterious destiny" is in as bad a predicament as ever. He is however fully convinced that Clairmont is the origin of all evil-we do not mean to say that he is precisely the devil-but the origin of all Mr. Leslie's evil. Therefore, and on this account, he goes to a masquerade, and, sure enough, Mr. Clairmont, (who has not been heard of for seven or eight years,) Mr. Clair-ing up a rose just fallen from the curls of his lady fair, mont (we suppose through Mr. L's "mysterious des- can hit upon no more appropriate phrase with which tiny") happens to go, at precisely the same time, to to make her a presentation of the same, than "Miss precisely the same masquerade. But there are surely Temple, you have dropped your rose-allow me!"— no bounds to Mr. Fay's excellent invention. Miss who courts his mistress with a "Dear, dear Flora, how Temple, of course, happens to be at the same place, I love you!"-who calls a buffet a bufet, an improvisaand Mr. Leslie is in the act of making love to her once tore an improvisitore-who, before bestowing charity, more, when the "inexplicable" Countess D. whispers is always ready with the canting question if the object into his ear some ambiguous sentences in which Mr. L. be deserving-who is everlastingly talking of his foe is given to understand that he must beware of all the "sleeping in the same red grave with himself," as if Harlequins in the room, one of whom is Clairmont. American sextons made a common practice of burying Upon leaving the masquerade, somebody hands him a two people together-and, who having not a sous in note requesting him to meet the unknown writer at St. his pocket at page 86, pulls out a handful at page 87, Peter's. While he is busy reading the paper he is un-although he has had no opportunity of obtaining a copcivilly interrupted by Clairmont, who attempts to as-per in the interim? sassinate him, but is finally put to flight. He hies, As regards Mr. Fay's style, it is unworthy of a then, to the rendezvous at St. Peter's, where "the un-school-boy. The "Editor of the New York Mirror" known" tells him St. Peter's won't answer, and that he has either never seen an edition of Murray's Grammar, must proceed to the Coliseum. He goes-why should he not-and there not only finds the Countess D. who turns out to be Mrs. Rinaldo, and who now un or he has been a-Willising so long as to have forgotten his vernacular language. Let us examine one one or two of his sentences at random. Page 28, vol. i. "He THE LINWOODS. The Linwoods; or, "Sixty Years Since" in America. By the Author of "Hope Leslie," "Redwood," &c. New York: Published by Harper and Brothers. was doomed to wander through the fartherest climes p alone and branded." Why not say at once fartherertherest? Page 150, vol. i. “Yon kindling orb should be hers; and that faint spark close to its side should teach her how dim and yet how near my soul was to her own." What is the meaning of all this? Is Mr. Leslie's soul dim to her own, as well as near to her own?-for the sentence implies as much. Suppose we say "should teach her how dim was my soul, and yet how near to her own." Page 101, vol. 1. “ You are both right and both wrong-you, Miss Romain, to judge so harshly of all men who are not versed in the easy elegance of the drawing room, and your father in too great lenity towards men of sense, &c." This is really something new, but we are sorry to say, something incomprehensible. Suppose we translate it. "You are both right and both wrong-you, Miss Romain, are both right and wrong to judge so harshly of all not versed in the elegance of the drawing-room, &c.; and your father is both right and wrong in too great lenity towards men of sense."-Mr. Fay, have you ever visited Ireland in your peregrinations? But the book is full to the brim of such absurdities, and it is useless to pursue the mat-handling; the grace, warmth, and radiance; the exquiter any farther. There is not a single page of Norman Leslie in which even a school-boy would fail to detect at least two or three gross errors in Grammar, and some two or three most egregious sins against common-sense. Miss Sedgwick is one among the few American writers who have risen by merely their own intrinsic talents, and without the a priori aid of foreign opinion and puffery, to any exalted rank in the estimation of our countrymen. She is at the same time fully deserving of all the popularity she has attained. By those who are most fastidious in matters of literary criticism, the author of Hope Leslie is the most ardently admired, and we are acquainted with few persons of sound and accurate discrimination who would hesitate in placing her upon a level with the best of our native novelists. Of American female writers we must consider her the first. The character of her pen is essentially feminine. No man could have written Hope Leslie; and no man, we are assured, can arise from the perusal of The Linwoods without a full conviction that his own abilities would have proved unequal to the delicate yet picturesque site and judicious filling in, of the volumes which have so enchanted him. Woman is, after all, the only true painter of that gentle and beautiful mystery, the heart of woman. She is the only proper Scheherazade for the fairy tales of love. We will dismiss the "Editor of the Mirror" with a few We think The Linwoods superior to Hope Leslie, and questions. When did you ever know, Mr. Fay, of any superior to Redcood. It is full of deep natural interest, prosecuting attorney behaving so much like a bear as rivetting attention without undue or artificial means for your prosecuting attorney in the novel of Norman Les- attaining that end. It contains nothing forced, or in lie? When did you ever hear of an American Court of any degree exaggerated. Its prevailing features are Justice objecting to the testimony of a witness on the equability, ease, perfect accuracy and purity of style, ground that the said witness had an interest in the cause a manner never at outrance with the subject matter, at issue? What do you mean by informing us at page | pathos, and verisimilitude. It cannot, however, be con84, vol. i, “that you think much faster than you write?" | sidered as ranking with the master novels of the day. What do you mean by “ the toind roaring in the air ? | It is neither an Eugene Aram, nor a Contarini Flemsee page 26, vol. i. What do you mean by "an unsha-ing. dowed Italian girl?" see page 67, vol. ii. Why are you The Linwoods has few-indeed no pretensions to a always talking about “stamping of feet," "kindling connected plot of any kind. The scene, as the title and flashing of eyes," "plunging and parrying," "cut- indicates, is in America, and about sixty years ago. ting and thrusting," "passes through the body," "gashes The adventures of the family of a Mr. Linwood, a open in the cheek," "sculls cleft down," "hands cut resident of New York, form the principal subject of the off,” and blood gushing and bubbling, and doing God book. The character of this gentleman is happily knows what else—all of which pretty expressions may drawn, but we are aware of a slight discrepancy be be found on page 88, vol. i.? What "mysterious and tween his initial and his final character as depicted. inexplicable destiny" compels you to the so frequent He has two children, Herbert and Isabella. Being use, in all its inflections, of that euphonical dyssyllable himself a tory, the boyish impulses of his son in favor blister? We will call to your recollection some few of the revolutionists are watched with anxiety and instances in which you have employed it. Page 185, vexation; and, upon the breaking out of the war, Hervol. i. "But an arrival from the city brought the fearful bert, positively refusing to drink the king's health, is, intelligence in all its blistering and naked details." in consequence, ejected from his father's house-an Page 193, vol. i. “What but the glaring and blistering incident upon which hinges much of the interest of the truth of the charge would select him, &c." Page 39, narrative. Isabella is the heroine proper; a being full vol. ii. “Wherever the winds of heaven wafted the of lofty and generous impulses, beautiful, intellectual, English language, the blistering story must have been and spirituelle indeed a most fascinating creature. But echoed." Page 150, vol. ii. "Nearly seven years had the family of a widow Lee forms, perhaps, the true sepassed away, and here he found himself, as at first, still cret of that charm which pervades the novel before us. marked with the blistering and burning brand." Here A matronly, pious, and devoted mother, yielding up we have a blistering detail, a blistering truth, a blistering her son, without a murmur, to the sacred cause of her story, and a blistering brand, to say nothing of innume- | country-the son, Eliot, gallant, thoughtful, chivalrous, rable other blisters interspersed throughout the book. But we have done with Norman Leslie,-if ever we saw as silly a thing, may we be . blistered. and prudent-and above all, a daughter, Bessie, frailminded, susceptible of light impressions, gentle, loving, and melancholy. Indeed, in the creation of Bessie Lee, VOL. II.-8 : |