subjects of which he treats. In the doctrine itself, there is nothing unreasonable; but, on the contrary, when one goes back in thought to the origin of living beings, and attempts to form some conception of their first appearance on the surface of the earth, is there any valid reason for the belief that the movements of atoms and the causes of these movements in the creation of a new being would not have been as invisible or mysterious as they are now in the formation of a germ or the development of an embryo? Would not the Creator have been as unseen at the dawn of life as he is to-day? and would not man have fallen back then, as he does now, on the forces of nature, to explain the modes in which the Creator acts? Be that as it may, the question with regard to the existence of spontaneous generation now is rightly put by Professor Clark when he asks "whether the Creator has not continued to exercise the creative faculty at all times, even to the present day." No less an authority than Professor Owen has asserted his belief in the affirmative when he says, "What I have termed 'the derivative hypothesis of organisms,"" (and which he advocates,) "for example, holds that these are coming into being by the aggregation of organic atoms at all times and in all places under the simplest unicellular condition, .... one form appearing in mud at the bottom of the ocean, another in the pond or on the heath, a third in the saw-dust of a cellar, a fourth on the surface of a mountain rock, &c., but all by the combination and arrangement of organic atoms through forces and conditions acting according to predetermined law."

The proof of this "coming into being" is, however, just what observation and experiment have hitherto failed to give. If spontaneous generation exists anywhere, it is most likely to be found among the lowest organisms; in fact, all others are eliminated from the question. What, then, is the nature of the evidence on which the doctrine at present rests? It is on the fact that a given solution of organic matter, exposed only to air that has passed through a red hot-tube, or that a similar solution enclosed in an hermetically sealed vessel and subsequently immersed in boiling water for two or three hours, has been known to become the seat of infusorial life. The various experiments which have been tried, including those cited by the author in detail, prove this and nothing more. If all the life in the flasks was really destroyed at the beginning of the experiment, then the appearance of the living organisms can be accounted for only by the theory in question. One might reasonably suppose that boiling water would be destructive of life. But in view of the instances where Infusoria have been observed living in a medium of high temperature, and of the fact that certain Alga live and flourish in thermal springs, the heat

of which approaches nearly to that of boiling water, it is certainly justifiable to entertain the belief that the vital resistance would still be maintained, even if the solution was heated to the temperature used in the experiments. There is without doubt a point at which resistance is at an end, but this has not yet been determined. As to the instances in which it is alleged that life was destroyed when dealing with such minute structures as Vibrios and Bacteriums, assent may well be withheld from the statement until the maker of the experiments tells us what were the signs which led him to his conclusions, - what were the indications that life was really extinct. The whole subject is one of deep interest, and is worthy of far more attention from those accustomed to make careful experiments than it has yet received.

But since

The views advanced by Professor Clark, that individual life does not begin with the mature egg, but that the egg itself in all its phases is the individual, are different from those usually held, but are maintained by Agassiz. From the study of the higher animals, where fertilization is necessary, one would be disposed to reject this view, and consider the individual as beginning after the process just mentioned. among some of the lower animals, as the Aphis, where fertilization for a series of generations is not necessary, all the phases of development, from the nucleated cell to the perfect individual, are passed through without interruption, the only starting-point for individual life is that at which the cell begins to take an independent action, long before it assumes the form of an egg in the sense in which this last is commonly understood.

The chapter on reproduction by budding contains many additions to science, of great value, derived from the author's original observations on various kinds of Infusoria, sea-anemones, jelly-fishes, &c., but we think he has pushed matters too far in considering double monsters as instances of this mode of reproduction. In so far as they have been observed in their formative stage, the primitive germ of such monsters is double at the outset, each of the doubled portions being developed pari passu the one with the other, as is seen in the instance cited and figured from Lereboullet, where the two heads and the portions of the body supporting them are equal, and give no more or less indications than other instances hitherto observed of the budding process.

We have touched upon only a few of the subjects treated of in the work which we have been noticing, and perhaps have done the author some injustice in taking merely those which are open to criticism. In conclusion, we will say that, wherever he has confined himself to observation, the results which Professor Clark has obtained are among the most important additions to embryology and zoology recently made.

AT the close of his poem Mr. Whittier utters a hope that it may recall some pleasant country memories to the overworked slaves of our great cities, and that he may deserve those thanks which are all the more grateful that they are rather divined by the receiver than directly expressed by the giver. The reviewer cannot aspire to all the merit of this confidential privacy and pleasing shyness of gratitude, but he may fairly lay claim to a part of it, inasmuch as, though obliged to speak his thanks publicly, he need not do it to the author's face. We are again indebted to Mr. Whittier, as we have been so often before, for a very real and a very refined pleasure. The little volume before us has all his most characteristic merits. It is true to Nature and in local coloring, pure in sentiment, quietly deep in feeling, and full of those simple touches which show the poetic eye and the trained hand. Here is a New England interior glorified with something of that inward light which is apt to be rather warmer in the poet than the Quaker, but which, blending the qualities of both in Mr. Whittier, produces that kind of spiritual picturesqueness which gives so peculiar a charm to his There is in this poem a warmth of affectionate memory and religious faith as touching as it is uncommon, and which would be altogether delightful if it did not remind us that the poet was growing old. Not that there is any other mark of senescence than the ripened sweetness of a life both publicly and privately well spent. There is fire enough, but it glows more equably and shines on sweeter scenes than in the poet's earlier verse. It is as if a brand from the camp-fire had kindled these logs on the old homestead's hearth, whose flickering benediction touches tremulously those dear heads of long ago that are now transfigured with a holier light. The father, the mother, the uncle, the school-、 master, the uncanny guest, are all painted in warm and natural colors, with perfect truth of detail and yet with all the tenderness of memory. Of the family group the poet is the last on earth, and there is something deeply touching in the pathetic sincerity of the affection which has outlived them all, looking back to before the parting, and forward to the assured reunion.

verse.

But aside from its poetic and personal interest, and the pleasure it must give to every one who loves pictures from the life, "Snow-Bound" has something of historical interest. It describes scenes and manners which the rapid changes of our national habits will soon have made as remote from us as if they were foreign or ancient. Already, alas! even in farm-houses, backlog and forestick are obsolescent words, and close

mouthed stoves chill the spirit while they bake the flesh with their grim and undemonstrative hospitality. Already are the railroads displacing the companionable cheer of crackling walnut with the dogged self-complacency and sullen virtue of anthracite. Even where wood survives, he is too often shut in the dreary madhouse cell of an air-tight, round which one can no more fancy a social mug of flip circling than round a coffin. Let us be thankful that we can sit in Mr. Whittier's chimneycorner and believe that the blaze he has kindled for us shall still warm and cheer, when a wood fire is as faint a tradition in New as in Old England.

We have before had occasion to protest against Mr. Whittier's carelessness in accents and rhymes, as in pronouncing "ly'ceum," and joining in unhallowed matrimony such sounds as awn and orn, ents and ence. We would not have the Muse emulate the unidiomatic preciseness of a Normal schoolmistress, but we cannot help thinking that, if Mr. Whittier writes thus on principle, as we begin to suspect, he errs in forgetting that thought so refined as his can be fitly matched only with an equal refinement of expression, and loses something of its charm when cheated of it. We hope he will, at least, never mount Pega'sus, or water him in Heli'con, and that he will leave Mu'seum to the more vulgar sphere and obtuser sensibilities of Barnum. Where Nature has sent genius, she has a right to expect that it shall be treated with a certain elegance of hospitality.

18.- Herman, or Young Knighthood. By E. FOXTON. Boston: Lee and Shepard. 1866. 2 vols. 12mo.

THE rank of this book will be very differently estimated by different readers, according as it is judged by the pure canons of literary art, or by the rules of morals. The critical reader, whose artistic perceptions are keen, will be struck with defects in it, which the reader whose moral sympathies are active will overlook and utterly disregard, in view of the prevailing spirit and intention of the work. It is a true product of New England, in which art is wholly subordinated to moral purpose. It not only gives expression to sentiments and opinions characteristic of the intellectual and moral temper of New England, but it gives expression to them in a form not less characteristic of that temper. At the time the book was written and first printed, eight years ago, it required not only an enlightened but a courageous mind to form and to declare the opinions expressed in it. No popular magazine in the country would at that time have ventured to accept it for publica

tion. The moral convictions of which it asserts the truth were often quite opposed to the convictions of society at large. And it adds to the interest of this fact to know, as it is now generally known, that the book was written by a woman.

The course of events has fully proved the justness of her views on slavery, the central subject of her story, and has brought us all to her way of thinking. But it is only justice to her to remember, that, while the nation was yet hesitating over the question, "Is this right?" she said, "It is wrong," and, holding firm to facts which men generally disregarded, drew from them the lessons in their keeping. It was not womanly compassion alone that forced upon her the opinions she held, but patriotic foresight and insight revealed to her the imminent dangers which then threatened us, and which we have since then been compelled to face and to overcome.

Though the boldness and truthfulness of the anti-slavery doctrines of this book give it its principal interest, yet it is crowded, even overcrowded, with reflections always thoughtful and liberal in tone upon many other of the subjects which most occupy public attention. She treats of the position of women and of clergymen in society, of the future life of animals, of the observance of Sunday, of the characteristics of opposing religious sects, of the modes of life under the different stages of American civilization, and of these and other like topics she writes with the ability and force derived from careful consideration, from sincerity of conviction and earnest purpose. Her opinions are always intelligent and high-toned, and are stamped with a strongly marked individuality.

It is because we hope that the author of Herman, having gained the ear of the public, will make use of her talents and opportunities in writing another book, that we venture to point out one fault, partly of thought and partly of style, which is a serious injury to the effect of some portions of her present volumes. It is the lingering on externals, the wasting time on their description, when they are of precisely that kind which is valueless because furnishing no clew to what lies beneath them. Given a certain position in society, a certain amount of wealth, a certain degree of physical beauty and of conventional refinement, there must inevitably follow, so inevitably as not to be worth the noticing, certain habits, certain elegances of life. Whenever a novelist speaks of the pretty boots, or the white hands, or the "golden-beaded purple silk purses" of his heroes and heroines, or describes the silver and the fruit on their dinner-tables, or the abundance of their breakfasts, that moment he shows either that his characters are not accustomed to such things, and therefore are disproportionately regardful of them,