TO THE NEW MOON.

'Your peaks are beautiful, ye Appenines,In the soft light of your serenest skies;From the broad highland region, dark with pines,Fair as the hills of paradise, ye rise!'

Benot too eager, as you take the first stage of the mountain, to look about you; especially, be not anxious to lookafar. Now and then, it is true, as the coach turns, you cannot choose but see a landscape, to the south and east,farther offthan you ever saw one before, broken up into a thousand vistas; but look you at them with a sleepy, sidelong eye, to the end that you may finally receive fromthe Platformthe full glory of the final view. In the mean time, there is enough directly about you to employ all your eyes, if you had the ocular endowments of an Argus. Huge rocks, that might have been sent from warring Titans, decked with moss, overhung with rugged shrubbery, and cooling the springs that trickle from beneath them gloom beside the way; vast chasms, which your coach shall sometimes seem to overhang, yawn on the left; the pine and cedar-scented air comes freely and sweetly from the brown bosom of the woods; until, one high ascent attained, a level for a while succeeds, and your smoking horses rest, while, with expanding nostril, you drink in the rarer and yet rarer air; a stillness like the peace of Eden, (broken only by the whisper of leaves, the faint chant of embowered birds, or the distant notes that come 'mellowed and mingling from the vale below,') hangs at the portal of your ear. It is a time to be still—to be contemplative—to hear no voice but your own ejaculations, or those of one who will share and heighten your enjoyment, by partaking it in peace, and as one with you, yet alone.

Passingthe ravine, where the immortal Rip Van Winkle played his game of nine-pins with the wizards of that neighborhood, and quaffed huge draughts of those bewildering flagons, which made him sleep for years, I flung myself impatiently from the 'quarter-deck'of the postillion whose place I had shared; I grasped that goodly globe of gold and ivory which heads my customary cane—the present of 'My Hon. friend' S——, and which once drew into itself the sustenance of life from that hallowed mound which guards the dust ofWashington—and pushed gaily on, determined to pause not, until my weary feet stood on the Platform. The road was smooth and good; the air refreshing and pure, beyond description. The lungs play there without an effort; it is a luxury to breathe. How holy was the stillness! Not a sound invaded the solemn air; it was like inhaling the sanctity of the empyrean. The forest tops soon began to stir with a mighty wind. I looked, and on both sides of the road there were trees whose branches had been broken, as if by the wings of some rushing tempest. It was the havoc of winter snows.

Thereis a wonderful deception in the approach to the Mountain-House, which, when discovered, will strike the traveller with amazement. At one point of the road, where the mansion which is to terminate your pilgrimage heaves its white form in view, (you have seen it from the river for nearly half a day,) it seems not farther than a hundred rods, and hangs apparently on the verge of a stupendous crag over your head; the road turns again, it is out of sight, and the summits, near itslocus in quo, are nearly three miles off. The effect is wonderful. The mountain isgrowing upon you.

I continued to ascend, slowly, but with patient steps, and with a flow of spirit which I cannot describe. Looking occasionally to the east, I saw a line of such parti-colored clouds, (as then I deemed them,) yellow, green, and purple, silver-laced, and violet-bordered, that it meseemed I never viewed the like kaleidoscopic presentments. All this time, I wondered that I had seen no land for many a weary mile.

Hill after hill, mere ridges of the mountain, was attained—summit after summit surmounted—and yet it seemed to me that the house was as far off as ever. Finally it appeared, and a-nigh; to me the 'earth's one sanctuary.' I reached it; my name was on the book; the queries of the publican, as to 'how many coach-loads were behind,' (symptoms of a yearning for the almighty dollar, even in this holy of nature's holies) were answered, and I stood on the Platform.

Good Reader!—expect me not to describe the indescribable. I feel now, while memory is busy in my brain, in the silence of my library, calling up that vision to my mind, much as I did when I leaned upon my staff before that omnipotent picture, and looked abroad upon its God-written magnitude. It was a vast and changeful, a majestic, aninterminablelandscape; a fairy, grand, and delicately-colored scene, with rivers for its lines of reflection; with highlands and the vales ofstatesfor its shadowings, and far-off mountains for its frame. Those parti-colored and varying clouds I fancied I had seen as I ascended, were but portions of the scene. All colors of the rainbow—all softness of harvest-field, and forest, and distant cities, and the towns that simply dotted the Hudson—and far beyondwhere that noble river, diminished to a brooklet, rolled its waters, there opened mountain after mountain, vale after vale, state after state, heaved against the horizon, to the north-east and south, in impressive and sublime confusion; whilestill beyond, in undulating ridges, filled with all hues of light and shade, coquetting with the cloud, rolled the rock-ribbed and ancient frame of this dim diorama. As the sun went down, the houses and cities diminished to dots; the evening guns of the national anniversary came booming up from the valley of the Hudson; the bonfires blazed along the peaks of distant mountains, and from the suburbs of countless villages along the river; while in the dim twilight,

'From coast to coast, and from town to town,You could see all the white sails gleaming down.'

The steam-boats, hastening to and fro, vomited their fires upon the air, and the circuit of unnumbered miles sent up its sights and sounds, from the region below, over which the vast shadows of the mountains were stealing.

Just before the sun dropped behind the west, his slant beams poured over the south mountain, and fell upon a wide sea of feathery clouds, which were sweeping midway along its form, obscuring the vale below. I sought an eminence in the neighborhood, and with the sun at my back, saw a giant form depicted in a misty halo on the clouds below. He was identified—insubstantial but extensive Shape! I stretched forth my hand, and the giant spectre waved his shadowy arm over the whole county of Dutchess, through the misty atmosphere; while just at his supernatural coat-tail, a shower of light played upon the highlands, verging toward West Point, on the river, which are to the eye, from the Mountain-House, level slips of shore, that seem scarce so gross as knolls of the smallest size.

Ofthe grandeur of the Catskills at sunrise; of the patriotic blazon which our bonfire made on the Fourth, at evening; of the Falls, and certain pecuniary trickeries connected with their grim majesty, and a general digest of the stupendous scene, shall these not be discoursed hereafter, and in truthful wise? Yea, reader, verily, and from the note-book of thine, faithful to the end,

Ollapod.

Fairgem on the dark brow of night,Fancy springs up, exulting, to greet thee;But purer than thine is the lightOf the eye smiling gladly to meet me.It is glowing—thy crescent, late pale,Is glowing, like spray on the ocean:But lovelier far, through its veil,Steals the light of Love's secret emotion.

Fairgem on the dark brow of night,Fancy springs up, exulting, to greet thee;But purer than thine is the lightOf the eye smiling gladly to meet me.

It is glowing—thy crescent, late pale,Is glowing, like spray on the ocean:But lovelier far, through its veil,Steals the light of Love's secret emotion.

New-York, August, 1837.

James F. Otis.

Memoirs, Correspondence, and Manuscripts, of General Lafayette.Published by his Family. Volume One. pp. 552. With a Portrait. New-York:Saunders and Otley.

Wegather from an advertisement of the American editor of this large and beautiful volume,William A. Duer, Esq., that it was the desire ofLafayettethat it should be considered as a legacy to the American people. In carrying his wishes into effect, therefore, his representatives have furnished a separate edition for this country, in which are inserted many letters that will not appear in the London and Paris editions, together with numerous details relating to the American revolution. The letters referred to, were written byLafayette, in the course of his first residence in America, when he was little accustomed to write in the English language, and are given exactly as they came from his pen. We need not add, that they are replete with interest.

The general history of the great Apostle of Liberty is familiar to the American people. In a brief notice of the volume before us, therefore, we shall select a few only of such passages as have more particularly impressed us, in a desultory perusal. The annexed paragraph, from the opening of the memoir, is characteristic. The writer, though indulging a secret project of arming and despatching a vessel to this country, to aid the struggling colonies, is nevertheless obliged, the better to conceal his designs, to take a journey to England:

"I could not refuse to go, without risking the discovery of my secret, and by consenting to take this journey, I knew I could better conceal my preparations for a greater one. This last measure was also thought most expedient by MM. Franklin and Deane; for the doctor himself was then in France; and although I did not venture to go to his home, for fear of being seen, I corresponded with him through M. Carmichael, an American less generally known. I arrived in London with M. de Poix; and I first paid my respects to Bancroft, the American, and afterwards to his British Majesty. A youth of nineteen may be, perhaps, too fond of playing a trick upon the king he is going to fight with—of dancing at the house of Lord Germain, minister for the English colonies, and at the house of Lord Rawdon, who had just returned from New-York—and of seeing at the opera that Clinton whom he was afterwards to meet at Monmouth. But whilst I concealed my intentions, I openly avowed my sentiments; I often defended the Americans; I rejoiced at their success at Trenton; and my spirit of opposition obtained for me an invitation to breakfast with Lord Shelbourne. I refused the offers made me to visit the sea-ports, the vessels fitting out against therebels, and every thing that might be construed into an abuse of confidence. At the end of three weeks, when it became necessary for me to return home, whilst refusing my uncle, the ambassador, to accompany him to court, I confided to him my strong desire to take a trip to Paris. He proposed saying that I was ill during my absence, I should not have made use of this stratagem myself, but I did not object to his doing so."

In reading, from his own pen, the account of his leaving France—the violent and peremptory letters from his family and government, denouncing his purpose, and demanding its relinquishment—the grief of his lovely wife, soon to become a mother—we are reminded of that forcible tribute ofSpragueto this lofty disinterestedness,than which nothing in the English language is more touching and felicitous. Though doubtless familiar to many of our readers, we cannot resist the inclination to quote a single appropriate passage: 'He left,' says he, 'the blushing vine-hills of his delightful France. The people whom he came to succour were nothispeople; he knew them only in the wicked story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary wretch, striving for the spoils of the vanquished; he ranked among nobles, and looked unawed upon kings. He was no nameless outcast, seeking for a grave to hide his cold heart; his children were about him—his wife was before him. Yet from all these he turned away, and came. As the lofty tree shakes down its green glories to battle with the winter storm, he threw aside the trappings of pride and place, to crusade for freedom in Freedom's holy land. He came, not in the day of successful rebellion, when the newly-risen star of independence had burst the cloud of time, and careered to its place in the heavens; but he came when darkness curtained the hills, and the tempest was abroad in its anger; when the plough stood still in the field of promise, and briars cumbered the garden of beauty; when the wife was binding up the gashed bosom of her husband, and the maiden was wiping the death-damp from the brow of her lover; and when the pious began to doubt the favor of God.'

In the intervals of that heart destroying malady, sea-sickness, Lafayette employed his time, during the voyage, in acquiring some knowledge of the English language; and when at last he arrived on our coast, he found it swarming with hostile vessels, and landed at midnight at Georgetown, South Carolina. He soon started for Philadelphia, which he reached after a month's toilsome journey of nine hundred miles, on horseback. Even here he was met, at first, with coldness; for, although arriving at an important moment to the common cause, it was at a period peculiarly unfavorable to strangers:

"The Americans were displeased with the pretensions, and disgusted with the conduct, of many Frenchmen; the imprudent selections they had in some cases made, the extreme boldness of some foreign adventurers, the jealousy of the army, and strong national prejudices, all contributed to confound disinterested zeal with private ambition, and talents with quackery. Supported by the promises which had been given by Mr. Deane, a numerous band of foreigners besieged the Congress; their chief was a clever but very imprudent man, and although a good officer, his excessive vanity amounted almost to madness. With M. de Lafayette, Mr. Deane had sent out a fresh detachment, and every day such crowds arrived, that the Congress had finally adopted the plan of not listening to any stranger. The coldness with which M. de Lafayette was received, might have been taken as a dismissal; but, without appearing disconcerted by the manner in which the deputies addressed him, he entreated them to return to Congress, and read the following note:"'After the sacrifices I have made, I have the right to exact two favors: one is, to serve at my own expense—the other is, to serve at first as volunteer.'""This style, to which they were so little accustomed, awakened their attention; the despatches from the envoys were read over, and, in a very flattering resolution, the rank of major-general was granted to M. de Lafayette."

"'After the sacrifices I have made, I have the right to exact two favors: one is, to serve at my own expense—the other is, to serve at first as volunteer.'"

"This style, to which they were so little accustomed, awakened their attention; the despatches from the envoys were read over, and, in a very flattering resolution, the rank of major-general was granted to M. de Lafayette."

Here Lafayette beheld, for the first time, the 'Father of his Country.' 'It was impossible,' says he, 'to mistake, for a moment, his majestic figure and deportment; nor was he less distinguished by his noble affability of manner.' The following is a picture of the American army, at this time stationed a few miles from Philadelphia:

"About eleven thousand men, ill armed, and still worse clothed, presented a strange spectacle to the eye of the young Frenchman: their clothes were parti-colored, and many of them were almost naked; the best clad worehunting-shirts, large gray linen coats which were much used in Carolina. As to their military tactics, it will be sufficient to say that, for a regiment ranged in order of battle to move forward on the right of its line, it was necessary for the left to make a continued countermarch. They were always arranged in two lines, the smallest men in the first line; no other distinction as to height was ever observed. In spite of these disadvantages, the soldiers were fine,and the officers zealous; virtue stood in place of science, and each day added both to experience and discipline. Lord Stirling, more courageous than judicious, another general, who was often intoxicated, and Greene, whose talents were only then known to his immediate friends, commanded as majors-general. General Knox, who had changed the profession of bookseller to that of artillery officer, was there also, and had himself formed other officers, and created an artillery. 'We must feel embarrassed,' said General Washington, on his arrival, 'to exhibit ourselves before an officer who has just quitted French troops.' 'It is to learn and not to teach, that I come hither,' replied M. de Lafayette; and that modest tone, which was not common in Europeans, produced a very good effect."

What freeman can peruse the subjoined, and not feel his heart burn with a noble pride, that he is anAmerican—the offspring of those whom no temptation could corrupt, no suffering appal, no tyranny subdue:

"Notwithstanding the success in the north, the situation of the Americans had never been more critical than at the present moment. A paper money, without any certain foundation, and unmixed with any specie, was both counterfeited by the enemy, and discredited by their partizans. They feared to establish taxes, and had still less the power of levying them. The people, who had risen against the taxation of England, were astonished at paying still heavier taxes now; and the government was without any power to enforce them. On the other side, New-York and Philadelphia were overstocked with gold and various merchandizes; the threatened penalty of death could not stop a communication that was but too easy. To refuse the payment of taxes, to depreciate the paper currency, and feed the enemy, was a certain method of attaining wealth; privations and misery were only experienced by good citizens. Each proclamation of the English was supported by their seductions, their riches, and the intrigues of the tories. Whilst a numerous garrison lived sumptuously at New-York, some hundreds of men, ill-clothed and ill-fed, wandered upon the shores of the Hudson. The army of Philadelphia, freshly recruited from Europe, abundantly supplied with everything they could require, consisted of eighteen thousand men: that of Valley-Forge was successively reduced to five-thousand men; and two marches on the fine Lancaster road, (on which road also was a chain of magazines,) by establishing the English in the rear of their right flank, would have rendered their position untenable; from which, however, they had no means of retiring. The unfortunate soldiers were in want of every thing; they had neither coats, hats, shirts, nor shoes; their feet and legs froze till they became black, and it was often necessary to amputate them. From want of money, they could neither obtain provisions nor any means of transport; the colonels were often reduced to two rations, and sometimes even to one. The army frequently remained whole days without provisions, and the patient endurance of both soldiers and officers was a miracle which each moment served to renew. But the sight of their misery prevented new engagements: it was almost impossible to levy recruits; it was easy to desert into the interior of the country. The sacred fire of liberty was not extinguished, it is true, and the majority of the citizens detested British tyranny; but the triumph of the north, arid the tranquillity of the south, had lulled to sleep two-thirds of the continent. The remaining part was harassed by two armies; and, throughout this revolution, the greatest difficulty was, that, in order to conceal misfortunes from the enemy, it was necessary to conceal them from the nation also; that by awakening the one, information was likewise given to the other; and that fatal blows would have been struck upon the weakest points, before democratic tardiness could have been roused to support them. It was from this cause that, during the whole war, the real force of the army was always kept a profound secret; even Congress was not apprized of it, and the generals were often themselves deceived. General Washington never placed unlimited confidence in any person, except in M. de Lafayette; because for him alone, perhaps, confidence sprung from warm affection. As the situation grew more critical, discipline became more necessary. In the course of his nocturnal rounds, in the midst of heavy snows, M. de Lafayette was obliged to break some negligent officers. He adopted in every respect the American dress, habits, and food. He wished to be more simple, frugal, and austere than the Americans themselves. Brought up in the lap of luxury, he suddenly changed his whole manner of living, and his constitution bent itself to privation as well as to fatigue. He always took the liberty of freely writing his ideas to congress; or, in imitation of the prudence of the general, he gave his opinion to some members of a corps or state assembly, that, being adopted by them, it might be brought forward in the deliberations of congress."In addition to the difficulties which lasted during the whole of the war, the winter of Valley-Forge recalls others still more painful. At Yorktown, behind the Susquehanhah, congress was divided into two factions, which, in spite of their distinction of south and east, did not the less occasion a separation between members of the same state. The deputies substituted their private intrigues for the wishes of the nation. Several impartial men had retired; several states had but one representative, and in some casesnot even one. Party spirit was so strong, that three years afterwards congress still felt the effects of it. Any great event, however, would awaken their patriotism; and when Burgoyne declared that his treaty had been broken, means were found to stop the departure of his troops, which every thing, even the few provisions for the transports, had foolishly betrayed."

"In addition to the difficulties which lasted during the whole of the war, the winter of Valley-Forge recalls others still more painful. At Yorktown, behind the Susquehanhah, congress was divided into two factions, which, in spite of their distinction of south and east, did not the less occasion a separation between members of the same state. The deputies substituted their private intrigues for the wishes of the nation. Several impartial men had retired; several states had but one representative, and in some casesnot even one. Party spirit was so strong, that three years afterwards congress still felt the effects of it. Any great event, however, would awaken their patriotism; and when Burgoyne declared that his treaty had been broken, means were found to stop the departure of his troops, which every thing, even the few provisions for the transports, had foolishly betrayed."

In his letter to his wife, written at this time, Lafayette speaks of American simplicity of manners, kindness of heart, and love of country. 'They are all,' says he, brethren of one family. The richest and the poorest man are completely on a level; and although there are some immense fortunes in this country, I may challenge any one to point out the slightest difference in their respective manner toward each other.' Would that this picture of republican character were a faithful transcript of the features of our time! We should be glad, did our limits permit, to collate numerous passages from his correspondence, to show how dear to the heart of this peer of the 'nobility of nature,' were those simple habits and manners, from which we have, as a nation, so widely departed. Thank heaven, he did not live to behold the great and increasing change.

The letters of Lafayette to GeneralWashington, contained in the present volume, were penned in English, with which the marquis was but imperfectly acquainted, and are presented precisely as written. He does not, of course, overcome the troublesome idioms; but the reader will often be struck with the happy combinations of expressions, and pleasing involutions of sentences; while there is now and then to be met with a new-coined word, than which nothing could be more expressive. Such an one is contained in his objections to a military court-martial, wherein he asks General Washington if it is 'right forever toridiculizea man of respectable rank, simply for drinking two or three gills of rum.' We here segregate this word, and introduce it to the American reader, with the hope that it will speedily become nationalized. It is different from, and better than, 'ridiculed.'

The correspondence, contained in the volume under notice, is brought down to the year 1781. The letters to Madame Lafayette, while they breathe the tenderest affection, yet burn with that noble disinterestedness and devotion to the cause of freedom, which characterized the life of the writer; while his epistles to General Washington, whether detailing reverses, expressing fears, or announcing glad tidings, are full of the warmest expressions of friendship, which time only served to rivet into an attachment that waxed stronger and stronger until death. Two extracts from Washington's answers to the letters of his renowned compeer, must close our notice of this admirable book. The first is from an epistle written soon after the marquis's first return to France:

"It gave me infinite pleasure to hear from your sovereign, and of the joy which your safe arrival in France had diffused among your friends. I had no doubt that this would be the case; to hear it from yourself, adds pleasure to the account; and here my dear friend, let me congratulate you on your new, honorable, and pleasing appointment in the army commanded by the Count de Vaux, which I shall accompany with an assurance that none can do it with more warmth of affection, or sincere joy, than myself. Your forward zeal in the cause of liberty; your singular attachment to this infant world; your ardent and persevering efforts, not only in America, but since your return to France, to serve the United States; your polite attention to Americans, and your strict and uniform friendship for me, have ripened the first impressions of esteem and attachment which I imbibed for you, into such perfect love and gratitude, as neither time nor absence can impair. This will warrant my assuring you that, whether in the character of an officer at the head of a corps of gallant Frenchmen, if circumstances should require this; whether as a major-general, commanding a division of the American army; or whether, after our swords and spears have given place to the plough-share and pruning-hook, I see you as a private gentleman, a friend and companion, I shall welcome you with all the warmth of friendship to Columbia's shores; and, in the latter case, to my rural cottage, where homely fare and a cordial reception shall be substituted for delicacies and costly living."I have a great pleasure in the visit which the Chevalier de la Luzerne and Monsieur Marbois did me the honor to make at this camp; concerning both of whom I have imbibed the most favorable impressions, and I thank you for the honorable mention you made of me to them. The chevalier, till he had announced himself to congress, did not choose to be received in his public character; if he had, except paying him military honors, it was not my intention to depart from that plain and simple manner of living which accords with the real interest and policy of men struggling under every difficulty for the attainment of the most inestimable blessing of life,liberty. The chevalier was polite enough to approve my principle, and condescended to appear pleased with our Spartan living. In a word, he made us all exceedingly happy by his affability and good humor, while he remained in camp."You are pleased, my dear marquis, to express an earnest desire of seeing me in France, after the establishment of our independency, and do me the honor to add, that you are not singular in your request. Let me entreat you to be persuaded, that, to meet you any where, after the final accomplishment of so glorious an event, would contribute to my happiness; and that to visit a country to whose generous aid we stand so much indebted, would be an additional pleasure; but remember, my good friend, that I am unacquainted with your language, that I am too far advanced in years to acquire a knowledge of it, and that to converse through the medium of an interpreter, upon common occasions, especially with the ladies, must appear so extremely awkward, insipid, and uncouth, that I can scarcely bear it in idea. I will, therefore, hold myself disengaged for the present; but when I see you in Virginia, we will talk of this matter, and fix our plans."The declaration of Spain in favor of France has given universal joy to every Whig: while the poor Tory droops like a withering flower under a declining sun. We are anxiously expecting to hear of great and important events on your side of the Atlantic; at present, the imagination is left in the wide field of conjecture; our eyes one moment are turned to an invasion of England, then of Ireland, Minorca, Gibraltar; in a word, we hope every thing, but know not what to expect, or where to fix. The glorious success of Count d'Estaing in the West Indies, at the same time that it adds dominion to France, and fresh lustre to her arms, is a source of new and unexpected misfortune to ourtender and generous parent, and must serve to convince her of the folly of quitting the substance in pursuit of a shadow; and, as there is no experience equal to that which is bought, I trust she will have a superabundance of this kind of knowledge, and be convinced, as I hope all the world and every tyrant in it will be, that the best and only safe road to honor, glory, and true dignity, isjustice. * * * The operations of the enemy this campaign have been confined to the establishment of works of defence, taking a post at King's Ferry, and burning the defenceless towns of New-Haven, Fairfield, and Norwalk, on the Sound, within reach of their shipping, where little else was, or could be opposed to them, than the cries of distressed women and helpless children; but these were offered in vain. Since these notable exploits, they have never stepped out of their works or beyond their lines. How a conduct of this kind is to effect the conquest of America, the wisdom of a North, a Germain, or a Sandwich, can best decide; it is too deep and refined for the comprehension of common understandings and the general run of politicians.""When I look back to the length of this letter, I have not the courage to give it a careful reading for the purpose of correction: you must, therefore, receive it with all its imperfections, accompanied with this assurance, that, though there may be many inaccuracies in the letter, there is not a single defect in the friendship of, my dear marquis, yours," etc.

"I have a great pleasure in the visit which the Chevalier de la Luzerne and Monsieur Marbois did me the honor to make at this camp; concerning both of whom I have imbibed the most favorable impressions, and I thank you for the honorable mention you made of me to them. The chevalier, till he had announced himself to congress, did not choose to be received in his public character; if he had, except paying him military honors, it was not my intention to depart from that plain and simple manner of living which accords with the real interest and policy of men struggling under every difficulty for the attainment of the most inestimable blessing of life,liberty. The chevalier was polite enough to approve my principle, and condescended to appear pleased with our Spartan living. In a word, he made us all exceedingly happy by his affability and good humor, while he remained in camp.

"You are pleased, my dear marquis, to express an earnest desire of seeing me in France, after the establishment of our independency, and do me the honor to add, that you are not singular in your request. Let me entreat you to be persuaded, that, to meet you any where, after the final accomplishment of so glorious an event, would contribute to my happiness; and that to visit a country to whose generous aid we stand so much indebted, would be an additional pleasure; but remember, my good friend, that I am unacquainted with your language, that I am too far advanced in years to acquire a knowledge of it, and that to converse through the medium of an interpreter, upon common occasions, especially with the ladies, must appear so extremely awkward, insipid, and uncouth, that I can scarcely bear it in idea. I will, therefore, hold myself disengaged for the present; but when I see you in Virginia, we will talk of this matter, and fix our plans.

"The declaration of Spain in favor of France has given universal joy to every Whig: while the poor Tory droops like a withering flower under a declining sun. We are anxiously expecting to hear of great and important events on your side of the Atlantic; at present, the imagination is left in the wide field of conjecture; our eyes one moment are turned to an invasion of England, then of Ireland, Minorca, Gibraltar; in a word, we hope every thing, but know not what to expect, or where to fix. The glorious success of Count d'Estaing in the West Indies, at the same time that it adds dominion to France, and fresh lustre to her arms, is a source of new and unexpected misfortune to ourtender and generous parent, and must serve to convince her of the folly of quitting the substance in pursuit of a shadow; and, as there is no experience equal to that which is bought, I trust she will have a superabundance of this kind of knowledge, and be convinced, as I hope all the world and every tyrant in it will be, that the best and only safe road to honor, glory, and true dignity, isjustice. * * * The operations of the enemy this campaign have been confined to the establishment of works of defence, taking a post at King's Ferry, and burning the defenceless towns of New-Haven, Fairfield, and Norwalk, on the Sound, within reach of their shipping, where little else was, or could be opposed to them, than the cries of distressed women and helpless children; but these were offered in vain. Since these notable exploits, they have never stepped out of their works or beyond their lines. How a conduct of this kind is to effect the conquest of America, the wisdom of a North, a Germain, or a Sandwich, can best decide; it is too deep and refined for the comprehension of common understandings and the general run of politicians."

"When I look back to the length of this letter, I have not the courage to give it a careful reading for the purpose of correction: you must, therefore, receive it with all its imperfections, accompanied with this assurance, that, though there may be many inaccuracies in the letter, there is not a single defect in the friendship of, my dear marquis, yours," etc.

In answer to a letter from Lafayette, asking the opinion of the commander-in-chief in regard to a duel with Lord Carlisle—whom, for an insult offered, as the marquis conceived, to France, in a letter to congress, he had challenged—Washington advises him to give up the idea of so foolish a thing. 'Experience,' says thePater Patria, 'has proved, thatchanceis often as much concerned in deciding these matters asbravery, and always more than the justice of the cause. I would not, therefore, have your life, by the remotest possibility, exposed, when it maybe reserved for so many great occasions.' Such was the opinion of Washington—a tolerably brave man, it is generally admitted—of duelling. He had thatmoralcourage, in relation to this gladiatorial practice, which we are glad to perceive is every year increasing in our country.

We may renew our notice of the present volume, in connection with a review of its successor, which will doubtless soon be forthcoming. In the mean time, we commend the first to every true American.

The Life and Services of Commodore William Bainbridge, United States' Navy.ByThomas Harris, M. D., Surgeon United States' Navy, and Member of the American Philosophical Society. In one volume, pp. 254. Philadelphia:Carey, Lea and Blanchard.

Thelate hour at which we receive this valuable addition to American Biography, must constitute our apology for the brevity which marks our notice of its contents. The whole is a tribute to a brave officer, and an honorable and accomplished man, who has been fortunate in a biographer who enjoyed a close intimacy with him, who had seen him under all circumstances of disease and health, of exhilaration and depression, and who had thus the best opportunity of studying his character. The writer has therefore eminently succeeded in his purpose of drawing a plain and faithful narrative of the prominent events of Commodore Bainbridge's life. These are connected with a history of the partial hostilities with the French republic, and the various actions with the Barbary powers, under the command of Commodore Preble, and others, in which he was actively engaged. Most of the writer's materials are fresh and interesting, having been mainly obtained from the private journals and extensive correspondence of Bainbridge, from conversations with him, and those who have served under him, and from a manuscript biography of a portion of his life, by GeneralH. A. S. Dearborn.

We had marked a few characteristic passages from the early history of Bainbridge, previous to his entering the navy, where his bravery is more familiar to American readers, but are compelled to omit them. A spirited mezzo-tint portrait, bySartain, from a painting byGilbert Stuart, embellishes the volume.

Midshipmen's Expedients.By the Author of 'Rattlin the Reefer;' and Other Tales, by Celebrated Writers. In two volumes. pp. 376. Philadelphia:Carey, Lea and Blanchard.

Howlarge a portion, reader, of these two volumes, do you suppose the 'work' which gives them their title consumes? 'Marry, tell us that, and unyoke.' Thirty-two pages, all told! 'Midshipmen's Expedients,' quotha? Whosoever shall disburse thequid pro quo, in the belief that he is to read a new work, in two volumes, by the author of 'Rattlin, the Reefer,' (a clever, rattling sort of book enough, and popular withal,) will be inclined to give these volumes another and more appropriate title, namely, 'Booksellers' Expedients.' The 'other tales,' again, as in the case of Boz's 'Tuggs at Ramsgate,' are out of all proportion; since they predominate in number by just eighteen! They are well enough, in their way, as English magazine papers; but they are not 'Midshipmen's Expedients,' as any purchaser would be led to suppose. 'On the contrary, quite the reverse,' as the annexed list of contents will show. The first volume has 'Sandie Sandeman, the Piper,' 'The Old Farm-House, 'Mrs. Smith at Home, or More Smiths,' 'The Landlord of Royston,' 'The Irish,' 'Lord Lieutenant and His Double,' and 'John Smith.' The second volume contains, 'The Guerilla,' byKnowles, 'One Witness,' a law story,Douglas Jerrold's'Preacher Parrot, or The Trials of Truth,' 'The Man with many Namesakes,' 'The Pleasure Party,' and 'The Rival Colors.' The two volumes are of thatscrappycast, so much desiderated by steam-boat travellers, and such as are troubled withennui, a disease peculiarly incident to those who have nothing to do.

Pocahontas—A tragedy.—There are certain dreamers, who flatter themselves that they are philanthropists, yet cannot believe that the recitation of a moral essay or dramatic poem, or a representation of a historical fact, by a combination of ingenious individuals, can be an evil. They think that a living, moving, and speaking picture of an event will impress it more indelibly on the mind, than the historian's page can possibly do. They imagine that moral truths, conveyed by fable, apologue, or parable, and the characters introduced by the teacher presented to the eye, and acting, speaking, looking the thoughts, expressions, and combined movements of the story, must be more delightful and impressive, than any other mode of instruction; in short, that a good play, represented by good performers, to an enlightened, judicious, and virtuous audience, is one of the most effective methods of conveying instruction that the wit of man has devised.[7]

The question then presents itself, 'Why are theatres avoided and reprobated by very many of the wise and good?' Is it not because they are prostituted to the pleasures of the foolish and wicked? And why are they thus prostituted? Is it not because their directors have nothing in view but pecuniary emolument? Garrick said, 'Those who live to please, must please to live.' Every wretch that allures to vice, by meretricious display, may say the same, and think he is excused. But is there no better mode of living? Is there no way by which a theatre can be supported, but by enticing within it the votaries of folly, vice, and guilt?

Where a king or despot rules, he can open a theatre at the expense of the state, and exclude from its walls much that contaminates the seats of similar establishments in great cities generally. This has been done. We would ask, then, why a combination of private individuals, in a republic, moderately rich, prudently liberal, loving instruction in its most delightful and impressive form, wishing to inspire their children with the desire for knowledge, by making its lessons pleasure, and, by imbuing them with taste, guarding them against the allurements of sensuality—why, we would ask, may not such a combination establish a theatre, as well as a lyceum or athenæum?

Performers should be chosen for their moral characters as well as their talents; auditors admitted only of known respectability; a committee of directors, elected from the proprietors, and the pieces to be represented, decided upon by them.

Such a theatre would not be shunned by the 'good and the wise.' No parent would fear to lead his child to such a school; and the pieces represented might be as attractive as 'Mother Goose,' 'Tom and Jerry,' or any other modern effort of genius.

The directors of such an institution might find that it would not be costly to the proprietors. Emolument must not be sought. Authors might be encouraged to compose dramatic works, such as would be appropriate for a theatre so conducted; and the committee would, in the mean time, find many prepared to begin with.

The tragedy, whose name appears at the head of this article, is one that would honor the choice of such a committee. It is the production of a man of genius, learning, taste, and morality. It adheres to historical truth, and exhibits, in an instructive light, the vices and virtues of both savage and civilized society. We might select many passages, and even scenes, with commendation; but shall only ask the attention of the reader to the following beautiful illustration of the power of letters, and the admiration excited in the minds of the aborigines by written communication.

Rolfe.Look here!(Writes.Take that to Captain Smith, and ask him whatIt says.Nom.What says it, Sachem Smith?Smith.What's this?Nom.Rolfe's speaking leaf. What say's't?Smith.(Reads.)'Nomony loves.'Nom.Nomony! Give it me! Nomony! I?(Turning it round, and examining it in all directions.It cannot be. Where are my legs, my arms,My body? This like me! Look, Pocahontas!Poc.'Tis very strange.Nom.(ToRolfe.) You told him what it was.Rolfe.Indeed I did not.Nom.Let me see't again.Nomony! Ah! Rolfe, let me shut you out,While Sachem Smith speaks to the leaf again,Then see if you can tell us what it says.(Shuts him out.Speak to it, father Smith.Smith.What shall it say?Nom.Oh, any thing. Say—Pocahontas loves not.Smith.Loves not? (Writes.)Nom.Ay, that will tease him. Say it.Now, brother Rolfe, come in. What says the leaf?(Giving it.Rolfe.Ah! cruel leaf! Speaks it the truth? She loves not? (Looking atPocahontas.Nom.Who?Rolfe.(ToPocahontas.) Thou lov'st not?Nom.Let me see't!Rolfe.(ToPocahontas.) Thou said'st so! Thou!Nom.No, no; content thee: it was I who bid itSay that. Rolfe, can a red man make it speak?Rolfe.Any one can. You, or your sister.Nom.Can I?I'd give my bow, of yellow orange wood—The best in all our settlement—to knowThat medicine!Poc.I think I understand it.Nom.Well?Poc.It is possible, to put a sign,A mark of something that you both have seen,And both can understand.Rolfe.But we can putA mark for that which we have never seen.Nom.Indeed! Oh, show me that! Rolfe, turn your back,And don't look round.Poc.Now, sister, 'tis my turn.(WhispersSmith,who writes.Give it toRolfe.(ToNomony.)Rolfe.(Reads.) 'Paspaho.'Nom.Thou hast seen him?Rolfe.Never.Nom.(Looking at the paper.) And that's Paspaho! (ToRolfe.) Is he tall or short?Rolfe.Nay, you put writing to an unfair test;I cannot tell.Nom.Not tell! How can the leafName whom it never saw, yet know not whetherHe's tall or short?Rolfe.Smith did not tell it that.Nom.Tell it, good SachemSmith.(Smithwrites.(ToRolfe.) Now see, an if it knows. You smile! What is't?Rolfe.(Reads.) 'Paspaho's a young warrior, tall and brave.'Nom.(Kisses the paper.) Dear leaf, I love you!Rolfe.I will teach you howTo write, an if you will.Nom.To write! What's that?Rolfe.To speak on such a leaf.Nom.Oh joy! I'm ready.Rolfe.I cannot teach you in an hour—a day;We must have many days.Nom.Must we? I'm sorry.But we shall soon return.Rolfe.I'll bless the artOf writing, while I live!Nom.And when I've learnt it,If I have something that I fain would say,And yet not wish to speak it, then I'll makeThe leaf speak for me.Poc.Ay, and think, dear sister,How sweet, when one is absent far from thoseOne loves, to send a speaking leaf like this,And bid it say, we live and love them still!Rolfe.In many lands, beyond the Great Salt Lake,These speaking messengers are daily sent,Folded and fastened, so that he who bears themKnows not their contents. Thus, far distant tribesSpeak to each other.Poc.Strange!Rolfe.The deeds of warriorsAre noted down upon these speaking leaves;Which never die, nor spoil by being kept:And thus their children and their children's childrenHear what has happened thousand snows before.

Rolfe.Look here!(Writes.Take that to Captain Smith, and ask him whatIt says.

Nom.What says it, Sachem Smith?

Smith.What's this?

Nom.Rolfe's speaking leaf. What say's't?

Smith.(Reads.)'Nomony loves.'

Nom.Nomony! Give it me! Nomony! I?(Turning it round, and examining it in all directions.It cannot be. Where are my legs, my arms,My body? This like me! Look, Pocahontas!

Poc.'Tis very strange.

Nom.(ToRolfe.) You told him what it was.

Rolfe.Indeed I did not.

Nom.Let me see't again.Nomony! Ah! Rolfe, let me shut you out,While Sachem Smith speaks to the leaf again,Then see if you can tell us what it says.(Shuts him out.Speak to it, father Smith.

Smith.What shall it say?

Nom.Oh, any thing. Say—Pocahontas loves not.

Smith.Loves not? (Writes.)

Nom.Ay, that will tease him. Say it.Now, brother Rolfe, come in. What says the leaf?(Giving it.

Rolfe.Ah! cruel leaf! Speaks it the truth? She loves not? (Looking atPocahontas.

Nom.Who?

Rolfe.(ToPocahontas.) Thou lov'st not?

Nom.Let me see't!

Rolfe.(ToPocahontas.) Thou said'st so! Thou!

Nom.No, no; content thee: it was I who bid itSay that. Rolfe, can a red man make it speak?

Rolfe.Any one can. You, or your sister.

Nom.Can I?I'd give my bow, of yellow orange wood—The best in all our settlement—to knowThat medicine!

Poc.I think I understand it.

Nom.Well?

Poc.It is possible, to put a sign,A mark of something that you both have seen,And both can understand.

Rolfe.But we can putA mark for that which we have never seen.

Nom.Indeed! Oh, show me that! Rolfe, turn your back,And don't look round.

Poc.Now, sister, 'tis my turn.(WhispersSmith,who writes.Give it toRolfe.(ToNomony.)

Rolfe.(Reads.) 'Paspaho.'

Nom.Thou hast seen him?

Rolfe.Never.

Nom.(Looking at the paper.) And that's Paspaho! (ToRolfe.) Is he tall or short?

Rolfe.Nay, you put writing to an unfair test;I cannot tell.

Nom.Not tell! How can the leafName whom it never saw, yet know not whetherHe's tall or short?

Rolfe.Smith did not tell it that.

Nom.Tell it, good SachemSmith.(Smithwrites.(ToRolfe.) Now see, an if it knows. You smile! What is't?

Rolfe.(Reads.) 'Paspaho's a young warrior, tall and brave.'

Nom.(Kisses the paper.) Dear leaf, I love you!

Rolfe.I will teach you howTo write, an if you will.

Nom.To write! What's that?

Rolfe.To speak on such a leaf.

Nom.Oh joy! I'm ready.

Rolfe.I cannot teach you in an hour—a day;We must have many days.

Nom.Must we? I'm sorry.But we shall soon return.

Rolfe.I'll bless the artOf writing, while I live!

Nom.And when I've learnt it,If I have something that I fain would say,And yet not wish to speak it, then I'll makeThe leaf speak for me.

Poc.Ay, and think, dear sister,How sweet, when one is absent far from thoseOne loves, to send a speaking leaf like this,And bid it say, we live and love them still!

Rolfe.In many lands, beyond the Great Salt Lake,These speaking messengers are daily sent,Folded and fastened, so that he who bears themKnows not their contents. Thus, far distant tribesSpeak to each other.

Poc.Strange!

Rolfe.The deeds of warriorsAre noted down upon these speaking leaves;Which never die, nor spoil by being kept:And thus their children and their children's childrenHear what has happened thousand snows before.

Foreign Correspondence.—A kind friend, a man of education and refinement, and an acute observer, now in England, has addressed us the first of a series of familiar letters, from which we hope often to quote, for the pleasure or benefit of our readers. His journeyings abroad will be greatly diversified, and out of the beaten track, both as to countries, and portions of countries, which he will traverse. The initiatory epistle, now before us, though necessarily limited in incident, contains a passage or two, which we shall venture to present, since they certainly, in more than one sense, are good 'evidence of things hoped for.' Speaking of the Thames, he says: 'On the morning of the last day of our voyage, the exceedingly turbid state of the water informed me that we were in the vast estuary of the Thames. To me, it seems strange, thatWattsand other poets should have so often attached the epithet 'silver' to this river. From London to its very mouth it is both muddy and yellow.' * * * 'Our sails and spars are housed below, and 'booms' disposed of; a 'mud-pilot' is on board, and we are now what is technically called 'threading the needle.' The pilot roars through his speaking-trumpet, 'starboard!' 'larboard!' 'port!—port hard!' as we glide throughforestsof shipping—(you must be on the bosom of 'Father Tems,' to realize the truth of this common simile,) and are passed, up and down, by innumerable small steam-boats, one of which exhibited no smoke, being propelled by the agency of quicksilver. The river is some fifteen hundred feet wide, yet our ship frequently turns up the mud from the bottom. By law, three hundred feet are left in mid-channel, for ingress and egress. At length, we are ushered through an enormous lock into the celebrated St. Catherine's Docks, a vast reservoir, enclosed by immense warehouses, in the formation of which, several thousand families were removed, and their houses pulled down.' * * * 'I shall send you, in a few days, some interesting articles for your Magazine, which will serve to diversify the pages so admirably filled—I mean no flattery—by your numerous American contributors. They are from the pen of a lady, of distinguished talents, author of 'The Bride of Sicily,' and other poems, and for some late years a popular writer in the 'Foreign Quarterly,' 'British Magazine,' and 'Frazer's Magazine,' to which latter periodical she recently contributed those clever papers, 'Remembrances of a Monthly Nurse,' 'April Fools,' 'Mary Magdalene,' etc. You shall hear from me again, at no distant period.'

In connection with this fragment of correspondence, we annex an extract from a letter written from London by another friend, some months ago, but which has probably 'been i' the Indies twice,' since it passed from the hands of the writer, as it has but just reached us. We fear some portions of it may seem to smack of undue self-laudation; but we beg the reader to bear in mind, that we quote from a source wholly disinterested;and to believe, that what may appear calculated to induce a satisfied vanity, is but a 'spur to prick the sides of our intent:'

'A knowledge of, and respect for,American Literature, appear to be gaining ground in England; but still, very few of our writers can boastmuchforeign fame; and many a name, and many a book, familiar to us, have scarcely been heard of, in the land of Shakspeare. There are some bright exceptions, however. It is superfluous to say, that I often heardIrvingand his writings spoken of with enthusiasm; and theearlynovels, especially, ofCooper, stand as high in popular favor throughout Europe, as they ever did at home. But the English are disposed, it would seem, to claim these two writers as their own; many, at least, never allude to them as American. The essays of Dr.Channinghave attained a wide celebrity in Great Britain. I have seen no less than three rival editions. Add to these three names those ofWashingtonandFranklin, and you can scarcely mention another American name which enjoys a thorough European reputation. A number of our books have been re-published, it is true, and are known, to some extent. I saw English editions of one or more of the works of MissSedgwick, Paulding, Simms, Flint, Fay, and Dr.Bird. Ourpoetsthey are but little acquainted with. Mr. Irving, you know, endorsed a London edition ofBryant, and Barry Cornwall conferred the same honor onWillis; and hisprosesketches I have heard highly praised. He has certainly written himself into considerable notoriety.Percival'spoems were printed in England several years since. Some ofHalleck's, and others, are well known through the various specimens of American poets. The classical text-books on oriental and biblical literature, from Andover, Cambridge, etc., are re-printed, and considered high authority by English scholars and critics. Several American books, of a useful and practical character, such asAbbott's'Young Christian,' Mrs.Child's'Frugal Housewife,' etc., have had an immense sale in England and Scotland. At least twenty thousand copies of each of the two mentioned have been sold in the kingdom. The sneering question of the Quarterly, 'Who reads an American book?' is no longer asked; but English prejudice is yet slow to admit that 'any good thing can come out of Nazareth.' I was told by a London publisher, that if an American book were re-printed, it would be bad policy to acknowledge its origin. I know several instances of our books having been published in London and Glasgow as original, and without a word of thesource, or any alteration, except the omission of local names, by which they might have been detected! In one case, an English copy of a book thus re-printed, verbatim,except the title, was received by a New-York house, published as an English work, and one thousand copies were sold, before it was discovered that the copy-right belonged to the author and publisher in Philadelphia! American periodicals, however, are doing much toward diffusing a knowledge of our literary men and resources abroad—in England, Scotland, and France, especially; and there is, on all hands, a great and growing interest in every thing which relates to our noble republic.' * * * 'Some of our higher periodicals are favorably known here. Silliman's 'Journal of Science' is appreciated and praised by scientific men throughout Europe; one or two hundred copies of the 'North American Review' are taken in London; and the 'Knickerbocker,' I am informed, is held in much estimation. Your sometime correspondent, Dr.Metcalf, (who is engaged in important studies and investigations here, connected with his theory of the great pervadingprinciple of life,) tells me, that he finds numbers who agree with him in the opinion, that the 'Knickerbocker' is not surpassed in talent, variety, or interest, by any English magazine whatsoever.'

'There are two dealers in London, who import American books, viz.,O. RichandR. J. Kennett; and two in Scotland,J. ReidandJ. Symington and Co., of Glasgow. I have had the pleasure of personal acquaintance with most of the distinguished publishers in London and Scotland, and have made notes of some facts, and comparative statistics, in which you may perhaps be interested. For the present, however, I will bestow upon you no more of my tediousness.'

Samuel Woodworth, Esq.—It is known to most of our readers, whose aid may be rendered effectively, that a 'benefit' is soon to take place at one of our theatres, the proceeds of which are to be devoted to the relief of the popular poet,Samuel Woodworth, and his large and amiable family, to whose support he has latterly been wholly unable to contribute, by reason of a partial loss of sight, and a paralytic shock, with which he has been visited. We hope the edifice where the dramatic entertainment is to 'come off,' will be crowded from dome to ceiling; so shall the beneficiary be made to rejoice in the belief that the milk of human kindness which flows in his own bosom, is not altogether absent from the breasts of the many who 'know him but to love him,' and who 'name him but to praise.'

'Knickerbocker Hall.'—'A goodnameis every thing,' says some didactic school-book maker, and we are about to agree with him. 'Knickerbocker Hall,' a large and commodious establishment, recently erected adjoining the Park Theatre, we doubt not will, under the supervision ofTerrapin Welch, Esq., P. H. T. C.,—a capable representative of all the Knickerbockers—be 'everything' that the reputation of its illustrious founder may lead the public to anticipate. 'Moreover, and which is more,' he is to be aided by his son-in-law, Mr.Adams, also a noted publican. Spacious dining-halls, ample private supper-rooms, airy and commodious lodging apartments, a renownedcuisine, and the most central of locations—these are matters not likely to be lightly regarded by citizens, or strangers who have ever 'heard tell o'Sandy.' Long may he reign!

New-York Review.—We are well pleased to learn, that the 'New-York Review and Quarterly Church Journal' is not, as we had been led to fear, to be abandoned. It will hereafter be published regularly by Mr.George Dearborn. Its editorial supervision is confided, as before, to Rev.C. S. Henry, an announcement which will be amply satisfactory to all who have read the first number. If this work but sustain 'the promise of its spring'—and that it will do so, with its corps of able contributors, and the aid of the accomplished writer and scholar at its head, we cannot doubt—it will prove an honor, and a high one, to the periodical literature of this country.

'Book of the United States.'—This little volume, like all from the pen of its world-renowned author, is entertaining as well as instructive, and admirably adapted to secure the attention and excite the imagination of the young. It exhibits the great features of the country, on a principle of classification which embraces in one view all that may relate to a particular topic, as mountains, rivers, cities, lakes, etc., which are contrasted with those of other countries, the better to impress them upon the memory. A free, colloquial style, illustrative sketches and anecdotes, and numerous wood engravings, render this little work what such works should be, eminently attractive. Boston:Charles J. Hendee.

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