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moh, to the Mohegans and Narragansetts. By means of an uncommonly careful accumulation of minute details, her volume furnishes more of that nformation which enables the reader to live over again the life of the old Puritans of New England, than any other single work which we can at present recollect. The mode of dividing and settling the land of a new 'plantation"-the internal structure of the settlers' houses-their habits and customs in private life and social intercourse-the gradual progress of what is called luxury in an advancing society-the prices of most of the necessaries and comforts of life-anecdotes of the jealous spirit of liberty which was so prominent a trait of our ancestors-illustrations of the diffusion of the mili tary spirit, and a warlike character throughout the whole population-these and other materials make the volume a rich one for the historical novelist or the curious reader.

GOSSIPPING LETTERS.

I.

You are exacting, most excellent Timotheus, to pin me down, on the very eve of publication, to fill up with an epistle a vacant corner in your dainty Magazine. But though the spirit is unwilling and the flesh is weak, your importunity has got the better of my contingent volition-of course you read Edwards-and already my quill-stump is executing its pas seul.

Much thanks to you, Timotheus, for the North American Review you sent me. Though in general it is grave, scholar-like, polished, and calculated to form an excellent rear-guard to the advancing column of ideas, there is an article in it which shows that fire can be injected into its old veins, and that it can be terrible by starts. I refer to the reply to the pert criticism on Professor Felton's Agamemnon, which appeared in a late number of the Knick erbocker. The critical article bore unquestionable traces of juvenility. Its affected dalliance with the pen, its assumed pleasantry, stiff and spasmodic as the walk of a wooden man, amused all readers infinitely. Then the inno cent egotism of the writer was droll also. He did not seem to guess that a cynic multitude were ready to explode into merriment at his smart airs and unreasonable assurance. It was plain as day that the critic knew more of Greek than manners. The allusion to the Professor's matrimonial affairs was only worthy of a Sunday newspaper. Still, notwithstanding the tone of the article, for which he really deserves the switch, no one can doubt that he has fairly caught Professor Felton in various egregious mistakes. This will be seen by a superficial glance at the article in the Knickerbocker. The North American virtually admits it by its dainty pickings among his long pages of rebuke, for charges weak enough to repel. It is true that the blun dering censures of the critic-whom Punch will be obliged to transfer to his portrait gallery of the "Rising Generation,"-make his swagger highly en tertaining, but they are few in comparison with his just "prisions of offence.” If he had written like a man, he would have gained some credit for scholar

ship and acumen. As it is, we are compelled, while we acknowledge the sting, to see the insect too.

The reply of the North American is quite serious enough. The reviewer not being altogether competent to make out a good case for his client, throws as much of a cloud as possible around his youthful adversary. The lawyers comprehend the value of this manoeuvre. But do you not think, dear Timotheus, that the reviewer was a little too nervous in the discharge of his duty? Consummate dignity or sublime contempt were the proper means for demolishing his opponent. Instead of using these, however, does he not fume and scold, albeit in a slow and measured tone? He lays on the lash without stint or mercy; but does not his own face appear red with the exercise? His eye is not cold and severe, nor is there on his lip that exquisite curl which makes an adversary insignificant even before a blow is struck.

These circumstances-now on the carpet-led me to reflect a little to-day on the received methods of conducting criticism. To manage censure prop. erly demands, believe me, profound art. When and where do we see that skill in rebuke, which makes us lose sight of the critic, indulge no suspicion of his ill nature, pique or conceit, and only observe the truth and force of his strictures!

With regard to criticism "as it is," one rule may be laid down as of general application. It is not the worst book, Timotheus, that is visited with the severest strictures. It is the works which are in the main superior, but disfigured with slight blemishes, that are visited with the tornadoes of rebuke. Dr. Johnson may have suggested the true solution of this phenomenon in one of his peculiarly turned periods: "Small things make mean men proud; and vanity catches at small occasions." O, the turpitude of an incongruous simile! the depravity of a misplaced clause! the iniquity of an error in syntax! Truly, doth not the critic's ire exceed the poet's pen in giving

to airy nothing

A local habitation and a name?"

Especially are these remarks applicable, when personal pique barbs the weapons of the censor. It is only necessary to notice the guerrilla warfare, which is kept up among your New York cliques of literary and would-beliterary men, to understand what may constitute criticism. No one can tell how often the prayer of patient and poetical Job is there made use of: "O, that mine adversary had written a book!" The same thing is exemplified between Whigs and Tories in England. Partisan hostility extends farther there than here. We never see a scorching criticism of Bryant or Haw. thorne as being "wretched Loco Focos;" or of Whittier as being an “abominable Liberty Party man;" or of Prescott's history and Webster's orations as being the works of "horrid Whigs." We quarrel about our politics and our religion; but out of New York city literary squabbles are almost unknown. In England, however, it is impossible for a Tory to write an unexceptionable book, or for a Whig to deliver an unblemished oration. Notice their Reviews. The mistake of a date sinks Mr. Croker, in Mr. Macaulay's estimation, to the level of a "school-boy"-a phrase of which he is over-fond, and has repeated till it is a decided mannerism with him. "Mutual friend"a common but palpably inaccurate expression-when made use of, sinks a writer to a grade of vulgarity not to be tolerated, in his estimation. I was

never more rejoiced than when, after all Mr. Macaulay's fuming against Mr. Croker, nearly every count in the critic's indictment was quashed by the masterly rejoinder of Kit North. "The Critic Caught" is a scene to be enjoyed, even above the revelling of the gods, in the spectacle of Mars and Venus, caged by the invisible wires of the jealous Vulcan.

But to return. How much did that sublimely censorious individual gain in his credit by his remark about Schiller's "Robbers:" "If I were a god, and was deliberating whether I should create a world, and foresaw that in that world Schiller's Robbers was to appear, I would not create it!" Some severe criticisms may be enjoyed. For instance; there is something infinitely amusing in the manner in which Voltaire traces back the genealogy of two historians, Briocké and Parfait, to the Prince of Fools. With all the deliberation of an antiquarian, he enumerates sire, grandsire, great grandsire, and so on, until the distinguished common ancestor is found, and the genealogical claim of the children of stupidity is incontrovertibly established. Who could help being amused by the manner in which the Foreign Quarterly, in its shameful criticism on American poets, settles the claim of the author of " Washington" to oblivion. "The author says he is gathering the effect of its publication from the 'loophole of retreat.' We hope it is a 'retreat' provided for him by his friends; in which case, we advise them to stop up the 'loophole,' as communication with the outer world, in his present state, can only increase his excitement." Another clever criticism, of the annihilating species, was aimed by Miss Margaret Fuller at a poem entitled "Saul, A Mystery." "So far as we can find," says she, "the only mystery' about this book, is that it was ever published."

Did you ever observe, Timotheus, a breed of dogs, usually nursed and owned by unthrifty people, which grow to an enormous stature, but are entirely useless for all the purposes to which other dogs are applied? Did you ever observe one of these animals at the moment when he discovered a luck. less toad, or grasshopper? Did he not set up an unearthly howl, entice you to the spot, and, having sufficiently enlisted your sympathy, bring off the miserable vermin in triumph? Did you ever compare curs of this sort to a certain class of critics?

You are a critic yourself. Your new profession involves functions of this character. You are well aware that, in order to keep up the standard of taste and purify literature, great excellences must not be allowed to screen a book from being censured for small vices. But let both excellences and faults be fairly dealt with. Let not "something black" be made into three black crows. Imitate Channing in your spirit, who seemed to transmit a true image of everything which he criticised, as perfectly as a lens transmits solar rays. Alas! that he should have made that one fearful mistake, so unlike himself, of calling the Cross the "great central gallows of the universe." Timotheus, be always dignified.

There are some things which transpire in the literary world which cannot be too severely handled. But be dignified, notwithstanding. Do not seize a club to demolish an insect. Show up the insignificance of the little pretender with an air of pity, and then let him loose with the charity of Uncle Toby: "Go, poor devil; the world is wide enough for thee and me." Regret that his book was ever written; still more that it was ever published.

If the work

be a lady's, I suppose gallantry must incline you more to praise than censure. If the author be like G. P. R. Jaines, writing so much on a small capital that his novels all seem one and indivisible, and the same narrative, and the same bald philosophizing greet you with a new face every six months, be sorry that the author did not do himself justice by getting the chronic rheu. matism in all his joints years ago. If a book be like Dickens' dishonored "Notes," overflowing with rancor and falsehood, say plainly that the book is not only a negative good, but a positive evil; and express your hope that the author will write less under the influence of the bottle in future. If, like Satan Montgomery, a scribbler has assumed the externals of older and better writers, merely to disgrace them, just say of his production, that its virtues are all the virtues of its predecessors, and its vices all its own. If you are reproving some jaundiced, flippant, dishonest critic, like those who sometimes contribute to the "Quarterly," and "Edinburgh," just introduce some little allegory or comparison. Handle him with gloves. For instance; express your wonder if he is not of some kin to Lucian's philosopher, whom, for fear he should sink Charon's very useful skiff, Mercury compelled to divest himself of the following precious catalogue of treasures. Mercury speaks: O, Jupiter! how great a load of arrogance he carries! how much lacklearning, and captiousness, and vain-glory, and pointless questioning, and thorny reasoning, and perplexed conceits: yes! and very much witless labor, and not a little drivelling, and doating, and nonsense; and, by Jove! pitiful self-indulgence, and shamelessness, and envy, and greediness, and effeminacy! for these things have not escaped my notice, in spite of your attempts to conceal them! Lay aside, too, that falsehood and self-puffing vanity, and the supposition that you are better than others. Inasmuch as if you should embark with all this luggage, what hulk of a seventy-four, I should like to know, would support your weight?"

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In offering to the public the second No. of our Magazine, we would here express our grateful acknowledgments both to editors generally and to many private individuals, for their highly commendatory notices of our work, and their good wishes for its success.

We are happy to number among our contributors, some of the best female writers of the day.

Our thanks are especially due to our country's distinguished poetess, both for her excellent poem and its accompanying note, sent us, expressive of her approval of our new enterprise.

We designed occasionally to scatter "Flowers " in the path of our guests, but did not expect to be able to present them with a floral wreath arranged by the skilful hand of Mrs. Sigourney.

We are happy to publish in our columns such verses as those furnished us by Miss E. G. Barber, of New Haven, on the "Landing of the Pilgrims," from a painting by Flagg. Those who have not viewed the painting, will find a beautiful transcript of it adorning our columns.

"The Cathedral of Milan," by Mr. L'Amoureux,

written with much

taste, and beauty of style. The graphic description of all parts of this stupendous structure, will not fail to charm all lovers of the fitting and the beautiful.

The practical truth so well brought out in the article on orators and dema. goguues deserves attention in this age of itinerant lecturers and public meetings. Both the press and the platform are instruments of incalculable power for good or for evil, and it may be laid down as a rule in controversy of all kinds, that it is generally best to conquer an adversary with his own weapons. We confess that to us it is not only astonishing, but provoking, that learned speakers should so frequently be unnatural elocutionists. They do not write with the idea of an audience before their eyes, and when they come to recite what they have written, they discover their mistake, and failure is the conse. quence.

"Sunset after Rain," sparkles like a circlet of gems. We like such sprinklings from the fount of Castalia.

"The Blue Stocking" will speak for herself.

"Classic Vagaries" are a little more vagrant in this number than the last, but we think equally instructive and amusing. Our friends now at the Springs and the Sea-coast, will be able to appreciate the retirement and salu. brity of the Horatian villa nestled between the "twin mountains," although we suspect that Horace, who was no tee-totaller, would have preferred a draught from the fountain of Bandusia mixed with a eup of Falernian, to the medicinal waters of Saratoga—and that our classical correspondent is so much of a Roman, that he would rather wander on the beach at Baiæ, than on the shores of the Atlantic.

The article on Ireland is written with extraordinary ability; indeed, as with a "pen of iron, and the point of a diamond." Its author is acquainted with the country, and has studied the character of its inhabitants; nay, he has even sat on the same platform in "Concilliation Hall" with Daniel O'Connel. In the next article he will give us a peep into the blunders and cruelties of the English in Ireland, and their effect upon the character and condition of its people. Both nations shall have their due.

"Tros Tyriusve, nullum discrimen habetur."

We regret that we have been obliged to consign several contributions to the "Balaam Box ;" had we burned them we should have said " peace to their ashes," but we prefer retaining them as curiosities. Some, more worthy, have been accepted and will appear in our next.

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