readers of the Messenger as a poet of no or- In a foregoing paragraph, we have referred dinary gifts. We esteem it a rare piece of to the attacks of the English press upon good fortune to have, as a fellow-worker in American slavery, in connection with Mrs. the cause of Southern Literature, such a Harriet Beecher Stowe's novel. As a gratiman as Mr. Hayne, and we predict for the fying exception to the general rule, we note Gazette in his hands, a wide and ever in- a very caustic review of "Uncle Tom" in creasing popularity. To Mr. Richards we tender our best wishes for his abundant success in the new field of labor he has chosen. The following is as neat a specimen of the classic pun, as we remember to have met with anywhere-to say nothing of the sar casm the "British Army Despatch," for a copy of which we are indebted to Col. Samuel Colt, the well-known inventor of the Repeating Pistols. The writer must belong, we think, to the Ordnance, for he understands the throwing of hot shot as well as any artillerist of the army. See how he devotes himself to the authoress "We have not reviewed Uncle Tom's Cabin, chiefly because we felt our views of the tendency and nature of that work to be so hostile that we could scarcely judge of it in a proper critical manner. We believe it to possess a cer"When peace was renewed with the French in Eng-tain melodramatic power, equal in pathos to the "Green land, divers of the great counsellors were presented from Bushes" at the Adelphi, and in incident to a popular novel the French with jewels; the Lord Henry Howard, being something between the style of Eugène Sue and George then Earl of Northampton, and a counsellor, was omitted. Reynolds. But we believe it also to be devoid of truth, Whereupon the king said to him, My Lord, how hap principle and reality, and that its tendencies are highly pens it that you have not a jewel as well as the rest?' mischievous and detrimental to the interests of mankind. My Lord answered according to the fable in Esop-In saying this, we entirely acquit its authoress, Mrs. Non sum GALLUS, itaque non reperi gemmam.'—Bacon's Apothegms: 203. Stowe, of any evil desire, any wicked feeling, or intended falsehood. That lady, for all we know, may be a most excellent, as she is undoubtedly a very talented person. Talking of puns, we are tempted to insert We fully give her credit for good motives; we doubt not one of domestic origin, which has not (so as we know) appeared in print far A party in the country, engaged in harehunting, being much annoyed by the slow motions of an old dog named "Time," finally drove him off, relying upon the younger and more active curs of their following. But they started no more hares: and one of the party, becoming satisfied that they had depised and banished the very best of their four-footed auxiliaries, exclaimed "We take no note of TIME, but by his loss!" that she believes herself entrusted with a mission, as much as ever did any "eminent female," from Maria Leczinska to Johanna Southcote. We can imagine her to be endowed with an awful sense of womanhood, and to makeif ever she condescended to such task, since the second edition of her book was sold-about the worst dumplings that were ever placed upon a dirty table-cloth in a slovscrawling hand, with the letters all backwards, avoiding enly parlor. We can imagine that she writes a big, neatness with pains-taking precision-her voice is probably harsh, her attitude imposing, and she will, or does, wear her own grey hair in the mother-of-a-nation style. Still we think it a great pity that she did not do anything rather than what she has done, with all the busy enthu siasm of a woman in breeches." A friend, who frequently "makes his mark" in the pages of the Messenger, thus chronicles for our benefit a capital Irish repartee One cold winter day, As we rode in a sleigh, We saw that the wind made our Irishman shiver: By the party inside Was flung out to Aleck, to serve as a “kiver." He turned it about With the hairy side out, And round his broad shoulders began to secure it"Why, Aleck, I say Do you wear it that way? The lectures at the Athenæum have commenced for the season. The holidays at the end of the year, which seem to suspend for a time all business (even that of Legislation) have occasioned a sort of interregnum for the last week or two: but we understand they will be resumed very early in this month, of which due notice will be given in the daily papers. Among other distinguished lecturers who are expected, we have heard the names of Professor William B. Rogers of the University of Virginia; Professor Felton of Harvard University, Cambridge; and the Rev. Dr. Baird, the well-known lecturer upon Europe. We beg leave to remind our city readers Faith! and a'nt it the way that the buffalo wore it?" of the importance of encouraging and sus taining this institution; founded as it has been by the enlightened liberality of the City Council, and connected with a scheme for the gratuitous instruction of all who will avail themselves of the offered means. It is Notices of New Works. MOORE. Edited by the Right Honorable Lord John not sufficiently known, that the libraries in the MEMOIRS, JOURNAL, and Correspondence OF THOMAS Athenæum building are open during certain hours every secular day, and one of them for sev eral hours each night, to all visitors who desire to consult the books; that this privilege is secured to our citizens without charge or fee of It is well known that by a provision in the will of any sort: and, that no one need feel hesitation Thomas Moore, the Right Hon. Lord John Russell was or delicacy about exercising it, since it is the constituted his literary executor, with instructions to precondition upon which the library rooms were pare for publication, such papers, letters and journals, granted by the City Council. We hope ere left by the poet, as he should deem proper for that purlong to see this valuable right fully appre- pose-the design of the testator being thereby to make ciated and enjoyed by the public. We understand that the price of tickets of admission to the Athenæum lectures will be reduced hereafter as follows-for one ticket 25 cents; for each additional ticket 12 cents. Mr. Galt's bust, on exhibition in this city, has inspired one of our contributors, who sonnetizes it as follows: Psyche looked on me with her luminous eyes- Of high-wall'd towus, and Dryad-haunted meres! L. The following epigram we think has pointthe most important feature in such compositions from the time of Martial down to our own day. But let the reader, by all means, judge for himself. When Latin I studied, my Ainsworth in hand, provision for his family. To this task the worthy baronet has applied himself, after a certain fashion, and we have the first fruits' of his labors in the ninety-six pages of his volume, which are now under our eye. An arrange ment has been entered into with Longman for the appear. ance of the 'Memoirs' in Parts, upon such terms, we are gratified to learn, as will place the poet's widow in a con dition of independence for life. The career of Thomas Moore, extending beyond the allot. ted three score years and ten of human existence, was one which, though not marked by any striking incidents, presents as interesting a study as that of any man of his time. He was born in poverty and of obscure parents, yet he became the recipient of large sums of money and lived to be the chosen companion of earls. In a society as brilliant as the world has ever seen-whose circles were lighted up by the radiant wit of Sheridan and illustrated by the hospitality of such men as Holland-the little Irish poet was always the favored guest and most conspicuous lion. Women of the highest rank and rarest beauty contended for the sweet privilege of being celebrated by his muse. The Prince of Wales himself (who afterwards felt so keenly the satiric shafts of the poet,) condescended to thank him for the honor implied in the dedication to His Royal Highness of the Odes of Anacreon. To hear the gifted song-writer at the piano sing one of his own exquisite melodies of Erin, was a piece of good fortune which the proudest peer of the realm did not hesitate to acknowledge. In more advanced life, when these melodies had become the common property of all who spoke the English language, it was reserved for him to enjoy his laurels in literary seclusion, though thorns were afterwards entwined in the garland and pierced him cruelly. At last, in comparative neglect, after so much of fond caressing, in narrow circumstances, after having lived like a gentleman,' the latest survivor of his youthful companions, he lay down in lingering imbecility to die. There is a moral in the story, which we need not dwell upon. The Preface to Part I. of the Memoirs, &c., contains a meagre and most unsatisfactory sketch of Moore's literary life, from the pen of the editor. The plan of the work as therein unfolded, embraces an autobiography of the poet till the age of twenty, a full correspondence between the years 1800 and 1818, and a journal carefully kept from 1818 down to the period of the poet's last illness. We think that as far as Lord John Russell's editorial labours are concerned, we are likely to have Right Honorable' dulness throughout the work, for the critical preface, as we have already hinted, is as flat as possible, and we ob serve that his Lordship has cautiously stricken out of the his staff, knocked it to some distance into the field, while poet's letters all the gossip and sprightliness which lent another running over to me, took possession also of mine. to them their greatest charm. It is as if his Lordship, We were then replaced in our respective carriages, and having invited a party of friends to dine with him, should conveyed, crestfallen, to Bow Street." give private instructions to his servants, by all means to open the champagne an hour beforehand, that all its effervescence might escape. The autobiography is given entire in the present Part, and there is also included, by way of appendix, an account of the duel with Jeffrey, which is quite new to us. The provocation, it will be recollected, was the caustic article of the Edinburg Review on the "Odes and Epistles." The preliminaries having been fully arranged, the circumstances attending the meeting, as narrated by the poet, were as follows "I must have slept pretty well; for Hume, I remember, had to wake me in the morning, and the chaise being in readiness, we set off for Chalk Farm. Hume had also taken the precaution of providing a surgeon to be within call. On reaching the ground we found Jeffrey and his party already arrived. I say "party," for although Horner only was with him, there were, as we afterwards found, two or three of his attached friends (and no man, I be lieve, could ever boast of a greater number), who, in their anxiety for his safety, had accompanied him, and were hovering about the spot. And then it was that, for the first time, my excellent friend Jeffrey and I met face to face. He was standing with the bag, which contained the pistols, in his hand, while Horner was looking anxiously around. "It was agreed that the spot where we found them, which was screened on one side by large trees, would be as good for our purpose as any we could select; and Horner, after expressing some anxiety respecting some men whom he had seen suspiciously hovering about, but who now appeared to have departed, retired with Hume behind the trees, for the purpose of loading the pistols, leaving Jeffrey and myself together. Every body remembers the mirth occasioned by the rumor which went abroad, that the pistols in this famous duel were not loaded with ball, and the lines of Lord Byron concerning Jeffrey in the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers Can none remember that eventful day, And Bow Street myrmidons stood laughing by? In reference to this rumor, Mr. Moore says that when he was discharged from custody, the magistrate refused to give up the pistols, telling him that while his own pistol contained a bullet, none was found in Mr. Jeffrey's, so that unfair play was suspected. The account proceeds: "Recollecting what Hume had told me as to the task of loading the pistols being chiefly left to him, and observing the view taken by the officer, and, according to his account by the magistrate, I felt the situation in which I mained for me, therefore, (particularly as Hume had taken was placed to be anything but comfortable. Nothing rehis departure), but to go at once to Horner's lodgings and lay all the circumstances before him. This I did without a moment's delay, and was lucky enough to find him at his chambers. I then told him exactly what the officer had said as to the suspicion entertained by the magistrate that something unfair was intended; and even at this diswhich it afforded me when I heard Horner (who had tance of time, I recollect freshly the immediate relief doubtless observed my anxiety) exclaim, in his honest and manly manner, 'Don't mind what these fellows say. I myself saw your friend put the bullet into Jeffrey's pis "All this had occupied but a very few minutes. We, tol, and shall go with you instantly to the office to set of course, had bowed to each other on meeting; but the the matter right.' We both then proceeded together to first words I recollect to have passed between us was Bow Street, and Horner's statement having removed the Jeffrey's saying, on our being left together, What a magistrate's suspicions, the officers returned to me the beautiful morning it is!' 'Yes,' I answered with a pistols, together with the bullet which had been found in slight smile, a morning made for better purposes;' to one of them: and this very bullet, by-the-bye, I gave afwhich his only response was a sort of assenting sigh. As terwards to Carpenter, my then publisher, who requested our assistants were not, any more than ourselves, very it of me, (as a sort of polemic relique, I suppose), and expert at warlike matters, they were rather slow in their who, no doubt, has it still in his possession." proceedings; and as Jeffrey and I walked up and down together, we came once in sight of their operations; upon which I related to him, as rather à propos to the purpose, what Billy Egan, the Irish barrister, once said, when, as he was sauntering about in like manner while the pistols were loading, his antagonist, a fiery little fellow, called out to him angrily to keep his ground. 'Dont make yourself unaisy, my dear fellow,' said Egan; sure, isn't it bad enough to take the dose, without being by at the. mixing up?' "Jeffrey had scarcely time to smile at this story, when our two friends, issuing from behind the trees, placed us at our respective posts (the distance, I suppose having been previously measured by them), and put the pistols into our hands. They then retired to a little distance; the pistols were on both sides raised; and we waited but the signal to fire, when some police-officers, whose approach none of us had noticed, and who were within a second of being too late, rushed out from a hedge behind Jeffrey; and one of them, striking at Jeffrey's pistol with We shall look with real interest for the ensuing Parts of this work. It is proper to state here, that the style of the publication is exceedingly good, and that Part I. contains a fine portrait of Moore and a spirited steel engraving of Sloperton Cottage. ROMANCE OF STUDENT LIFE ABROAD.-By Richard B. The Parisian student of these pages sought the French capital with the intention of pursuing a regular course of study, involving the usual attendance on the Lectures at the University and the vaudevilles at the Gaieté, and mixing up the acquisition of surgical knowledge with a close observance of life on the Boulevards. His views, * One of these friends was, I think, the present worthy however, underwent some modification after a short resiLord Advocate, John Murray. Odence in Paris, and he became possessed of a desire to study life and character, not only as they were presented times, imagining what had been his peculiar griefs. to him in the cafés and theatres around him, but as de- "His wife. It was his wife's handkerchief. Her memChildren none: relatives veloped in rural France, afar from metropolitan influ- ory was all he had to cling to. ences. This desire he only partially indulged, for by none. She had been to him his sole and only friend, and That was it. Perhaps I carried my confar the greater portion of his volume is occupied with she was gone. scenes and incidents of la belle ville. But there is so jectures further-perhaps he had not been as affectionate, much, in every chapter, of the excellence of the author of as constant, as kind, while she lived, as he now felt he St. Leger, that we are equally delighted with the descrip- ought to have been, and, like too many who do not tions of town and country. Here is a little sketch of the chapel of the Hotel des Invalides -Understand a treasure's worth "The stranger who visits the chapel of the Invalides, he had appreciated her too late. Perhaps he was now will encounter few of the inmates, unless at the time of tortured by a recollection of her last sad, yet not reproachservice; but there are always a small number who can be ful look, and cherished as a part of his existence, a tender seen kneeling, repeating a prayer, or going through with though unavailing remorse. But whatever might be his their Ave, Credo, or Confiteor. After a "fitful fever" of personal history, I felt an assurance that his daily prayers marches and assaults, or sieges, sorties and pitched fields and supplications were not put up in vain." of fierce pursuits and sullen retreats, of bloody defeats and bloodier victories, it is a touching sight to behold the soldier kneeling before the cross, asking forgiveness and absolution. "I observed an elderly officer, who appeared much superior to the majority of his confrères, and who came very regularly to the chapel. He was about fifty, tall and slender, with a serious countenance, and an air of habitual depression. He used to kneel with so much devoutness, and repeat the prayers so earnestly, and afterwards come away with a look so melancholy, that it touched me to the heart to witness it. He had not been wounded, so far as I could see; he had lost none of his limbs, but his face was pale and wasted, and loose, straggling gray hairs were scattered over his forehead. "How much it adds to the intenseness with which we regard misfortune or calamity, to separate some individual object, and fix our attention on it! I believe one could easily become utterly miserable by this very process. I have myself, in this way, on many occasions, been made wretched enough, and only escaped by turning to the brighter scenes of life. So it is always; light and shade, light and shade again. But without light and shadow, can there be a picture? There is, at the same time, a fascination in the contemplation of great suffering, difficult to explain. Perhaps it may be traced to the unconscious sympathy we feel with whatever is intense, whether it be ecstatic or agonizing, and which underlies almost every other emotion. # * "On one occasion, in turning to leave the chapel, when I was standing near the door, the melancholy officer of whom I have spoken, dropped his handkerchief. I picked it up, and observed, as I took it in my hand, that it was of a description used only by ladies. I stepped at once towards the owner, and gently touching his arm, I said: "'Your handkerchief, sir.' "A faint, hectic blush overspread his cheeks. “He seized it almost eagerly, gazed at it an instant with much tenderness, as though it was some dear object, and put it in his bosom ; then taking my hand in both of his, he pressed it silently. "I am very glad,' said I, 'that I discovered it in time.' "It was my wife's.' "His lip quivered slightly, but he showed no other signs of emotion. Still be retained my hand. "Forgive me,' I exclaimed,' 'I have intruded on feelings which are sacred.' "Monsieur shows that he has a heart.' Mr. Kimball has stories of greater length and power than this in his record of "Student life," but we cannot do more than refer the reader to the volume for them. THE VICTORIES OF WELLINGTON AND THE BRITISH The Death of the Duke of Wellington was no doubt the cause of the present new and handsome edition of Mr. Maxwell's "Victories," as the apotheosis of the great captain has concentrated upon his life and deeds an interest more widely spread and more intense, than has ever before been exhibited concerning any man-hero, statesman or apostle. Mr. Maxwell writes with great spirit, and seems particularly well qualified to narrate the story of battles, except that, now and then, we half suspect a little unfairness to the other side. The book treats of all the military adventures of the Duke from Seringapatam to Waterloo, and is embellished with several fine steel engravings, among which are portraits of Sir John Moore and the Marquis of Anglesea. LIFE AND MEMORIALS OF DANIEL WEBSTER. From Of all the works which have purported to give to the reader an account of the Life and Public Services of Daniel Webster, we consider this by far the most complete and satisfactory. The biographical sketch was published, in extenso, the day after Mr. Webster's decease, in the columns of the New York Daily Times,—a feat in newspaper enterprise, which altogether surpasses that performed by its great namesake (the London Times) the morning after the death of the Duke of Wellington. The memo rials were comprised in a series of Letters from Elms Farm and Marshfield, written by Genl. S. P. Lyman, the inti "He pressed my hand once more, bowed low and walk- mate friend of the great Senator. They embody as much ed away. of personal interest and characteristic ana, as any work, "I do not think I can ever forget that old French officer. not written through a medium by the spirit of James BosAlthough I used frequently to see him after this occur- well, possibly could. These volumes are brought out in rence, I never accosted again. Yet I busied myself, at Appleton's Popular Library. THE PRIVATE LIFE OF DANIEL WEBSTER. By Charles | ESSAYS AND TALES IN PROSE. By Barry Cornwall. In Lanman. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1852. [From A. Morris, 97 Main Street. Two Volumes. Boston. Ticknor, Reed & Fields. 1852. [From A. Morris, 97 Main Street. We think Mr. Lanman would have christened this little volume more appropriately, if he had styled it, "Some The publishers of this work have entitled themselves Personal Recollections of Daniel Webster," or affixed to to great favor with all lovers of literature for the series of it some other less ambitious title than that it now bears. volumes, issued from their press within two or three years "The Private Life of Daniel Webster" would seem to de- past, embracing the miscellaneous writings of De Quinmand a detail of biography to which Mr. Lanman makes cey and the poems of Tennyson, Browning, Motherwell no pretensions. His book is really a very delightful one, and Milnes-none of which could be obtained, complete, just such as we should expect from a gentleman of his in any other form, even in England. The work now betaste and judgment. As Private Secretary to Mr. Web-fore us is another benefaction, for which we should be ster, for several years previous to his death, Mr. Lanman grateful. The fame of Barry Cornwall rests upon his enjoyed peculiar advantages for observing the social characteristics of the great statesman, and some of these are charmingly pourtrayed in the book under consideration. We give, as a taste of its quality, a story about John Taylor, Mr. Webster's overseer. "The last time Mr. Webster visited Elms Farm, which was in July last, the writer was his only companion. All along the railroad, on our way from Boston to the mountains, groups and crowds of people were assembled to welcome him to his native State; but this had for so long a time been a consequence of his annual visits to Elms Farm, that he was not therefore taken by surprise. At Concord he heard the particulars of an accident which had happened to his man John Taylor, and when told that his life was in danger, he was sadly distressed, and manifested great impatience to reach home. On alighting from the cars and stepping upon his threshold, he only took time to cast one loving look at his noble rows of elms and broad fields just ready for the scythe, before he went to visit his tenant. Though he found his yeoman friend suffering from a dislocated shoulder, a dreadfully bruised breast, and a fearful gash in his thigh, some seven inches long, yet the doctor had declared him out of danger. With this news, Mr. Webster was, of course, delighted. Before he left Boston he had heard of the accident, but no particulars; and as he did not apprehend any danger, his first thought was, 'What shall I take John Taylor as a present?' which question he answered by bringing him a basket of grapes and a fresh salmon. The present was fit for a king, but John Taylor deserved it. “The accident alluded to was caused by an angry bull, who turned upon his keeper in a fit of causeless anger, and not only tossed him high into the air with his horns, but trampled him under his feet. It is a wonder the man was not killed. What saved him was the presence of mind which he manifested in seizing and holding on to a ring in the bull's nose. In spite of his wickedness, this animal deserves a passing notice in this connection, as he was a very great favorite with his owner. He was presented to Mr. Webster by his devoted friend, Roswell L. Colt, Esq., of New Jersey, and he is of what is called the Hungarian breed. He is a magnificent creature, quite young, weighs some two thousand pounds, of a beautiful mouse or slate color, and has a neck which measures more than six feet in circumference. John Taylor's account of the attack upon himself, and of other exploits of the bull, was very amusing; and when asked by Mr. Webster if he really thought the animal dangerous and ought to be chained, he replied "Why he is no more fit to go abroad than your friend Governor Kossuth himself.' 'Rather strong language this,' replied Mr. Webster; but when a man has been gored almost to death by a Hungarian bull, it is not strange that he should be severe upon the Hungarian governor." The book is well printed, and contains several wood engravings which we consider very unworthy of it. songs, but for which his real name never would have been sought after: nevertheless, while his criticism is not altogether so discerning as Hazlitt's, and his sketches are certainly less powerful than the Opium Eater's, there is much in the two volumes of his "Essays and Tales" to interest and enlighten, and they are likely to prove all the more agreeable for being published in the excellent style of Messrs. Ticknor, Reed and Fields. MY NOVEL; OR. VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE, By Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. New York: Harper & Brothers 1853. [From A. Morris, 97 Main Street. Though we cannot judge of a novel as a work of art, before it has been completed, and therefore are yet unable to assign this book its proper rank among the writings of its gifted author, we have no hesitation in declaring that, up to the melodramatic abduction and rescue of Violante, we regard it as one of the most delightful fictions in the English Language. This episode, conceiv ed, as it is, after the manner of the French, consorts little with the quiet naturalness and sweet domesticity of the blotted out from the story. The characters in "My Novpreceding chapters and we should like to see it altogether el" are wonderful portraitures. Old Parson Dale, and Riccabocca-Harley L'Estrange and Richard Avenel, Helen and Leonard-even the scoundrels, Levy and Randal Leslie-are so set before us that we feel, as it were, personally acquainted with them, and this feeling was never inspired by Bulwer's earlier novels. We shall look out for the rest of "My Novel" with the greatest possible solicitude, lest a work already marred by a forced and unnatural incident, should be conducted to a "lame and impotent conclusion;" against which we fervently hope. From Harper & Brothers, we have received a new edition of Cornelius Nepos, with Notes, Historical and Explanatory, by Charles Anthon, LL. D.—a work which will commend itself to the attention of teachers:-The History of Romulus, being another volume of that excellent series of juvenile works by Jacob Abbott; and No. 10 of Dickens' Bleak House, for which thousands of readers throughout the country, have been waiting impatiently during the last fortnight. The press of the Harpers never flags for an instant, and has never been occupied with better publications than within the year just drawn to its close. |