vacant. The ribbon with which the horse's main was plaited, immediately caught his attention, and he expressed his delight by saying, 'Pretty blue ribbons!-pretty blue ribbons!' After indulging in the rocking motion of his horse for some time, he could scarcely be coaxed to move on in line, but stopped and chatted inanely with the common soldiers in the ranks. 'Look on that picture, and then on this,' the best and briefest we have yet encountered of the coronation of VICTORIA:

'At ten o'clock, the cannon announced that the Queen had stepped into her carriage at the palace, and at eleveu the cannon again informed us of her arrival at the abbey-door. The heralds, marshals, and men-at-arms, in their stiff coats of gold, flew to the entrance to form the procession. The excitement had been increasing from eight to eleven. Interesting and beautiful, the Queen walked alone, followed by the maids of honor, dressed in white satin and brilliants, with circlets of roses mingled with green leaves upon their heads, holding, nearly breast high, the superb train she drew after her; then came the ladies of the bed-chamber, in rich dresses of cerulean blue, with bandeaus of diamonds, and ostrich feathers on their heads.' At

*

the moment the Queen had arrived upon the platform, and was handed to a chair of state by her uncle, the Duke of Sussex, the sun showered down his beams upon her. It was a dramatic scene of pomp and grandeur, too lofty for language to represent. I looked steadfastly at her, when seated, and saw, by the tremulous glitter of diamonds upon her breast, that she was agitated, and nearly overcome with the splendor that surrounded ber. The music was the service of the church, as performed in the cathedrals, solemn and grand, heightened in its effects by a band of one hundred and fifty instrumental performers, and nearly three hundred voices. The parts usually sung by a single voice, were performed by six of the most eminent English singers to each part. During the performance of Handel's anthem, describing the crowning of King Solomon, the Queen was conducted by her ladies behind the purple and goid tapestry, into Henry the Seventh's Chapel, where she was robed for her coronation. She soon returned, under a canopy of gold, It then wanted three minutes to two o'clock. A telegraphic communicatou was made from the floor through the roof, and a rocket announced that the crown was placed on her head. The cannon instantly thundered from the Park and the Tower, and the five hundred instruments and voices poured forth The Queen shall rejoice in her strength, for the Lord hath set a crown of pure gold on her head. At the same instant, like an electrical flash, four hundred peers and peeresses crowned themselves with the coronets they held in their hands. It was a burst of grandeur, of surpassing splendor, too mighty to be described.'

A better story of hypochondria than even 'The Turned Head' of the 'London Physician,' is that of a patient of a medical friend of the author's, who imagined he had a leg of mutton hanging to his nose, and walked nearly double, to prevent the dangling joint from hitting his knees. The cure was simple. He was taken into a dark room, where a person was stationed with the reality, and on cutting off just the tip of his nose, the mutton was let fall on the floor. On opening the window-shutters, the patient was convinced he had got rid of his load, and walked in an upright posture ever afterward. An anecdote, too, well worth recording, is that related of HAYDN, the great composer, who on one occasion went into a music-store, in Leicester, and after looking at a variety of his own pieces, said he wanted something better. 'Do you see they are by HAYDN?' asked the shop-keeper, a fervent admirer of that artist. Well, Sir, I do,' was the reply; 'but I wish for something better.' 'Better!' indignantly cried the enthusiastic amateur; 'a gentleman of your taste I am not anxious to serve;' and he was turning away, when the 'hard customer' made known that he was HAYDN himself.

6

The following is well authenticated of JOHN BUNYAN. While in Bedford jail, he was called upon by a Quaker, desirous of making a convert of him. 'Friend John,' said he, 'I am come to thee with a message from the LORD; and after having searched for thee in half the prisons in England, I am glad I have found thee at last.' 'If the LORD had sent you,' returned BUNYAN, you need not have taken so much pains to find me out; for the LORD knows I have been here these twelve years.' As a marked and pleasant contrast of character, we will close this already too greatly extended 'Salmagundi' with a condensed passage in the history of SIR LUMLEY SKIFFINGTON, author of the Point of Honor,' and ci devant prime leader of the fashions with the whipped cream of the London beau-monde. He was once disturbed in the night by the information that the adjoining house was on fire; he voted the necessity of moving a 'very great bore,' and vowed with vows he would not stir; and when at last in the street, in his Turkish night-gown, and hair in papers, he greatly amused the by-standers and busy firemen, by calling out: What are these horrid creatures about, with so much filthy water, that I cannot step, without wetting my slippers!'

AMERICAN QUARTERLIES. We have the two prominent American reviews, for the January quarter, the 'New-York' and the 'North-American,' before us, but are compelled to 'speak them shortly.' They are both good numbers; at least, both contain three or four papers of unusual excellence. The first article in the last-named work we take from internal evidence to be from the competent pen of our consul at Rome, an old contributor to these pages, of whose literary qualities it were superfluous to speak. It is a review of MICALI on the ancient Italians, and describes their origin, the first steps toward civilization, the Pelasgi and Etruscans, with their science and literature, their arts of war and peace, agriculture, etc. The article is both entertaining and instructive, in all its details. The review of STEPHENS' 'Incidents of Travel in Egypt, Arabia Petræa,' etc., is said to be from the hand of Hon. LEWIS CASS; and of this we think there can be no doubt. It is a very cordial and elaborate notice of this excellent and most popular work, rendered doubly valuable from the fact, that the reviewer himself followed our author through most of the interesting scenes which he has not less happily than vividly described. Justice is done to, and a clear synopsis given of, the 'Life of Father Marquette,' which forms the tenth volume of 'SPARKS' Library of American Biography;' and high praise is awarded, in another article, to DUPONCEAU'S volume on the nature and character of the Chinese system of writing.' Those of our readers who remember the valuable and interesting papers upon the 'Chinese Nations and Languages,' contributed to the KNICKERBOCKER by the author of the work in question, will not be surprised to learn, that an adequate judge has pronounced it 'undoubtedly one of the most remarkable publications of the present day.' The remaining articles are, 'Nautical Discovery in the Northwest,' 'BOWDITCH's translation of the 'Mécanique Céleste,' 'International Copyright,' and the usual series of brief critical notices.'

THE NEW-YORK REVIEW is enriched with an article upon the poetry of Wordsworth, that well deserves the place of honor which it occupies. It is a consideration and analysis of the genius and productions of a gifted poet, who has but just began to enjoy that renown which will carry his name, full of honors, down to future ages. The comments upon the labors of WORDSWORTH evince a due appreciation of the bent of his mind, and the character of his inspirations; and were the paper of a more moderate length, this commentary, together with the extracts, which are made with good taste, would insure conviction to many a doubter, whom we fear will not now encounter a semi-dissertation and review, of such formidable extent. The second article is upon the Geological Survey of New-York,' and embodies a great variety of useful and interesting geological facts, and bares to the day the riches with which the earth teems, in the empire state. Passing a well written dissertation on 'Rituals,' another, displaying much research, and replete with valuable information, upon 'Steam Navigation of the Ocean,' and a review of an elementary treatise on sound, we come to an article on the writings of CARLYLE, which discriminates judiciously between the good and the blameworthy, in summing up the merits and characteristics of this remarkable writer. It has become fashionable, with many small littérateurs in this country, to prate of the 'invisible and non-existent,' which our author has evoked, and the mysteries of nature' which he 'spiritualizes into ideal forms,' what time he 'lulls the universe to sleep, that he may look at it,' and such like nonsense. These literary pauper-parvenus, incapable of the redeeming thought, scize the faults of CARLYLE's style, and having clothed their meagre conceptions in this stolen garb, fancy they have become Germanized into the 'inner soul' of Professor TEUFELSDRÖCK's best manner. A very sound and able criticism of COOPER's last works, concludes with a paragraph on that writer's style, in which the critic observes: 'Had we aimed at a literary criticism of these works, we should have had frequent occasion to point out verbal inaccuracies, such as the repeated use of understandingly, which does not belong to our language; of bluff, which is known only as a maritime word; of imperious, instead of imperative, and

many others.' Now, despite the ability with which this review is written, this lastquoted sentence is nonsense: nay, it is worse than nonsense; for it is untrue, and of course unjust. 'Understandingly not an English word!' Preposterous! Indeed, this remark is so infinitely absurd, that we hope, in mere charity, the editors will be able to say in their next number that it is a misprint, or some mistake. 'Bluff known only as a maritime word!' Let the reviewer consult old SAM. JOHNSON, where he will find himself doubly in error; for bluff is there, but maritime is NOT! 'Imperious instead of imperative;' perhaps so, perhaps not. The criticism lacks force, because it lacks specification: the reviewer's assertion, after three such blunders as we have pointed out, will not suffice; and the same remark will apply to the imputation of the last two words of the sentence quoted, viz: 'many others.' If the 'many others' are like those cited, Mr. COOPER need not be ashamed of them. We have as little charity for Mr. COOPER's faults as any one; but we do not see the propriety, justice, or taste, of falsely accusing him of error. Fifty-two minor critical notices compose the eighth article proper, and with a 'Quarterly Chronicle,' close the number.

THE SUBLIME AND RIDICULOUS.' - We have remarked, within a twelvemonth or so, some two or three notices of the gifted BRAINARD, and his productions; but in none of them have we seen allusion made to one of the most admirable sketches that ever proceeded from his felicitous pen. We yield to none in our estimate of the touching fragments, free from any tincture of affectation, from the same source, which have worked out their gentle triumphs in the hearts of so many readers; but for the following exquisite mixture of the sublime and the ridiculous, which is not included in the earlier edition of BRAINARD's works, we must express a superabundant admiration. It is entitled 'The Captain, a Fragment,' and was suggested by the subjoined passage in the ship-news of a Bridgeport, (Conn.) journal: 'Arrived, schooner FAME, from Charleston, via. New-London. While riding at anchor, during the storm on Thursday evening last, the Fame was run foul of by the wreck of the Methodist meeting-house, from Norwich, which was carried away in the late freshet.' What a skeleton-text is this for the magnificent descriptive soliloquy which ensues, and how rich the contrast which its change embodies:

SOLEMN he paced upon that schooner's deck,
And muttered of his hardships: 'I have been
Where the wild will of Mississippi's tide
Has dashed me on the sawyer; Thave sailed,
In the thick night, along the wave-washed edge
Of ice in acres, by the pitiless coast

Of Labrador; and I have scraped my keel
O'er coral rocks, in Madagascar seas;
And often, in my cold and midnight watch,
Have heard the warning voice of the lee-shore
Speaking in breakers! Ay, and I have seen
The whale and sword-fish fight beneath my bows;
And when they made the deep boil like a pot,
Have swung into its vortex; and I know

To guide my vessel with a sailor's skill,

And brave such dangers with a sailor's heart;

But never yet, upon the stormy wave,

Or where the river mixes with the main,
Or in the chafing anchorage of the bay,
In all my rough experience of harm,
Met a Methodist meeting-house!

Cat-head, or beam, or davit, has it none,

Starboard nor larboard, gunwale, stem, nor stern!

It comes in such a questionable shape,'

I cannot even speak it! Up jib, Josey,

And make for Bridgeport! There, where Stratford Point,

Long Beach, Fairweather Island, and the buoy,

Are safe from such encounters, we 'll protest!
And yankee legends long shall tell the tale,
That once a Charleston schooner was beset,
Riding at anchor, by - a meeting-house!

OUR COUNTRY IN THE OLDEN TIME. Through the kindness of an antiquarian bibliopolist, in London, we have been greatly amused, in turning over the leaves of an elaborate work, written and published in England, just after the American Revolution, by one J. FERDINAND D. SMYTH, Esq., and entitled, A Tour in the United States of America; an account of the Country, Anecdotes of several members of the Congress, and general officers in the Army; with many other very singular and curious Occurrences.' The volumes are interesting, as affording a picture of this republic, which is in striking contrast with its present appearance and condition. The work appeared at a time when 'nothing of the kind had been hitherto published,' and was written to gratify a universal craving in England, to hear more of a country, where had just occurred 'a great and very extraordinary revolution.' In the list of subscribers to the book, the names of earls, dukes, and lords, among them Lord North, are conspicuous. Our author was forcibly struck, on first landing in Virginia, with a peculiar native annoyance, which he thus describes:

'We were assaulted by a great number of musketoes, a very noxious fly, which seems to be of the species of gnats, but larger and more poisonous, leaving a hard tumor wherever they bite, with an intolerable and painful itching. They penetrate the skin, fill themselves with blood, and make their principal attacks in the night, accompanied by a small, shrill, disagreeable note, the very sound of which prevents you from sleep, after you have been once bit.'

He complains bitterly, also, of a kindred nightly tormentor, the species and character of which were so well indicated by the naïve query of the Frenchman: 'I was much dissatisfy last night in de bed wid a great many bites of-of-what you call dat d-n animal dat lie awake in de day-times, and promenade my leg in de night, eh?' But the American frog seems to have borne away the palm; and if the following be not over-colored, we fear the race has greatly deteriorated:

"The bull-frogs emit a most tremendous roar, louder than the bellowing of a bull, from the similarity of whose voice they obtained their name; but their note is harsh, sonorous, and abrupt. They surprise a man exceedingly, as he will hear their hoarse, loud, bellowing clamor just by him, and sometimes all around him, yet he cannot disccver whence it proceeds; they being all covered in water, and just raising their mouth only a little above the surface, when they roar out, then instantly draw it under again. They are of the size of a man's foot.'

Our author is a zealous Briton, and seems to have made himself useful to his king. He was not always successful, however, in his loyal endeavors, but was once or twice imprisoned by 'the rebels.' On one occasion, he tells us, he was on his way through Pennsylvania, 'to join the royal standard erected at Norfolk, by the Earl of Dunmore, His Majesty's Governor,' when he was arrested by 'some rebel Dutchmen,' and dragged before a committee of safety, from which he had recently escaped, and which consisted of 'a taylor, a leather-breeches-maker, a shoe-maker, a ginger-bread-maker, a butcher, and two publicans!' Here he was subjected to an examination, which evinces the spirit of the time. 'Tamn you!' says one member, 'howst darsht you make an exshkape from dish honorablesh committish?' 'Howsh der duyvel can you shtand sho shtyff for King Shorsh, akainsht dish koontery?' asked a second; while a third declared, that 'de committish would let King Shorsh know howsh to pehave hisself,' and that 'dey would kill all de English tiefs as soon as von ox or von cow!' Philadelphia, at this time, had 'upward of thirty thousand inhabitants,' with a few praiseworthy public edifices, conspicuous among which were a lunatic asylum, and the 'convenient and handsome barracks of the king's troops.' Here it was that our author was imprisoned by the 'rebel' enemy; and where, if we may believe his story, he suffered every species of indignity, with many violent attacks upon his loyal principles. He mentions, among his occasional visitors and 'lecturers,' Dr. BENJAMIN Rusн, ‘a member of congress, and a man eminent in physic, but more eminent in rebellion. At some future day, we may revert to these volumes, for the purpose of sketching two national pictures of the past and present.

TAGALO POETRY. - Very grievous is it, to a generous and sensitive purveyor of literary edibles, that he should be unable to scatter to his thousands of readers those choice bits of chance provender, wherewith his own intellectual palate is often most delectably regaled. Such, not to say it boastingly, have been our emotions, while feasting upon two thin volumes of Tagalo poetry, printed in 'Sampaloe, suburb of Manilla,' with which we have been kindly favored, by a correspondent in China. The externals of these pamphlet-tomes are worthy of note. A thin, gay paper cover, like that seen on tea-chests, envelopes some thirty leaves of whitish-brown paper, of the coarsest texture, bearing the impress of types which may have been stolen, as a foreign 'venture,' by some enterprising 'outside barbarian,' from the place named 'hell,' or Hades, by the printers, into which are cast all worn-out and irreclaimable letters. The volumes are entitled 'Salita At Bvhay na Nassapit ni Dona MARCELA, at nang isang Mercador sa Reinong Portuga, and Salita Nang Buhay na Pinagdaanan, nang Priccipe YGMIDIO, at nang Princesa GLORIANA, na anac nang Haring GRIMALDO, sa Caharian nang Gran-Cayro;' or, in a Christian tongue, a 'History of the Life and Adventures of Donna MARCELA and a Portuguese Merchant,' and a 'History of the Life and Wanderings of the Prince YGMIDIO, and the Princess GLORIANA, daughter of King GRIMALDO, of the kingdom of Grand Cairo.' No sooner had we turned to the promising title-page, than we launched at once into the volumes, cruized outside the first two leaves, and presently found ourselves beyond our reckoning, and obliged to anchor. Indeed, we doubt if the following passage, the rock on which we split, be laid down in any of the literary charts:

Caya magsabica,t, houag cang maglihim
At irong roson ce ngavo,i, iyong cunin,
Cun ang pagparito,t, paghanap sa aquin
Cun ulos nang iba,i, sa aquin sabihin.

Matibay na uicang hindi mapapacnic
Frong aquing sabi, tunay na pag-ibig;
Nguni aquing sinta,i, ibig cong mabatid
Mahal mong pangala,i, houag ipagcait.

Cun sa camabalan aco po ay uala,
Anac nang villano tauong maralita,
Cun caya nagpilit na aco,i, nagsadhiya
Nagsasapalaran sa iyong sanghaya.

Now the premises of the enthuymem involved in these stanzas, we are not so much inclined to dispute; and as they will be equally clear to most of our readers, we look to be sustained in our judgment; but we would respectfully ask, if the collateral sentiments here expressed, do not demand the severest rebuke from the friends of humanity and the rights of women? 'Decidedly, these are the opinions,' in this meridian. In the annexed stanzas, from a minor poem, we think we recognise a translation of the first part of the popular song of 'Woodman, spare that Tree!' by our enterprising contemporary, General MORRIS:

Bucod pasa iyong!
Manga capagalan!
Nang pagtatangol mo sa!
Anac cong mahal!
Merced na bigay co,t,
Ibang carongculan,
Ang lahat mong pagod,
Aquing babayaran!

Ynihatid co po,
Mahiraphirap man,
Ang pangacong upa,
Ay upan macamtan?
Mayroon dao siyang,
Pitong cayamanan,
Yaong icapito,
Siyang ibibigay!

If the above be indeed a veritable rendering of the first two stanzas of the song in question, and of this the reader can judge as well as ourselves, it must be admitted that the translator has taken some important liberties with our friend's production. Much of the spirit of the original has been permitted to evaporate. Nevertheless, we should be pleased to hear Mr. RUSSELL sing the lines, at his next soirée. Harsh as they seem, he would doubtless evoke melody from them.