the latter of an absconding son, who is yet all the while just under his nose, is utterly improbable, and full of mystery where there need be no mystery; yet the incidents are developed with dramatic skill. But as one sees the end a long way ahead, the details of the last chapters are painfully protracted. The close, therefore, is not so agreeable as the beginning. Indeed the opening chapters present a fine idylic picture, which we wishuhad been continued, with less of the intrigue and passion which mar the latter part. After the free, bright air of the Highland region, one gets slightly suffocated with the crowd and heat of New York. All parties being finally restored to the Highlands, we suppose we ought to forgive the temporary interruption; but we shall not. The fact is, that we are heartily weary of these novels of passion, which try to "pile up the agony" of our poor human nature. Life has enough of trouble in its realities, without the aid of fictitious additions. Let the public insist, therefore, upon more fun, more odd and whimsical character, more quiet and genial scenes, more open and hearty freedom, more serene and lofty art. and less intensity, heat, torture, and heart-breaking, on the part of our nascent novelists. fictitious literature appears to be in the midst of its sturm-und-drang period-its storm and spasm period;--and the sooner it gets through it to the pleasant sunshiny land beyond, the better for our mental health and enjoyment. Our -We are glad to find, in the third novel before us-which dates from an unexpected quarter-a tendency to a better style of art, although it is only a tendency. We refer to a novel, called Alone, purporting to be the work of Miss MARION HARLAND, of Richmond, Virginia. It is a tale of Southern domestic life-not negro life, as might be supposed from the turn that novel writing about the South has taken since "Uncle Tom," but the life of cultivated, well-meaning, suffering and striving white folks. It must have some local truth in it, for we find "fifth edition" written on the cover; yet we cannot ourselves recognize any thing peculiar to the South in its characters and incidents. Had the scene been laid in New York or Boston, instead of at Richmond, the events and personages might have been very much the same. It evinces, however, a sharp insight into the workings of human motive, marking the nicest distinctions and shades of character with a keen, firm touch, and without those strong and exaggerated contrasts, which are too often evidences of confused conceptions, and imperfect execution. Miss Ida Rose, the heroine, is not exactly an original creation, but is a well-defined and skilfully developed character, and "Charley" and Mr. Lacy are agreeably drawn, while Miss Josephine is almost too much of a vixen for the refined society in which she is allowed to circulate. There is more mutual complacency and admiration, too, among the leading friends than is compatible with a true social intercourse. But the tone of the work is subdued, the pictures, generally, in good keeping, and the religious spirit healthful and liberal. The greatest defect which occurs to us, is that the incidents are expanded until they become monotonous. A considerable number of people are introduced, who have nothing really to do with the plot, and are quite unnecessary as accessories. On the whole, we have been both entertained and instructed by this novel, in spite of the too evident self-satisfaction of the whole company. But if Alone is a true picture of Southern society, what shall we say of the glimpses of it that we get in Our World, a new anti-slavery novel? What a contrast between the parlor and kitchen! We shall not, however, compare the two works, as Our World is a mere partizan tale, written with an avowed partizan purpose, and exhibiting little or no artistic skill. It deals in violent scenes and characters, is without merit as a story, and disgusts, rather than interests us, by its main incidents. The whole thing is overdone; supposing each separate event to be true-as a whole it is not true, because the particulars are brought together without relief, without light and shade-in a confused mass. The characters are vague, the conversations forced, and the descriptions, for the most part, overstrained. The reader finds it difficult to continue his attention to the end, and is glad when the last chapter shuts out the jumbled and disagreeable scenes to which he has been an unwilling spectator. Southern Land, by A CHILD OF THE SUNdespite its affected title. It has the thinnest thread of a story running through it, being rather a series of hop-skip-and-jump sketches-sometimes of life, at others of scenery, and then again of character. Beginning at a boarding-school at France, and closing on a cotton estate in Tennessee, the author expatiates over the world, in the style of Peter Schlemil, or the Wandering Jew. Now, we have him at Paris, then at New Orleans, next in Charleston, and, againhe doesn't know where himself. But whereever he lights, for a time, he is the same chatty, keen-eyed, cultivated, nonchalant observer of men and things, and he manages, by a few words, to make us see what he sees. A man of the world seemingly, he has yet a soul for sentiment, nature and poetry. With a great many local prejudices, and the constitutional arrogance of "a child of the sun," he is still open to a perception of local defects. His pictures of the South are generally warm, mellow, many-colored, with floods of sunshine and luxurious vegetation, but not without glimpses of the fever-swamps and pine barrens. He paints the princely, gentlemanly planter, but he does not forgot the "Sherry Cocktails," the "Gin-swigs," and the "Mr. Shortstaples." In the teeth of his strong Southern prepossessions, too, he reveals, unconsciously it may be to himself, social aberrations in the South, which his pet plan of a law of primogeniture would not eradicate, but aggravate. But he is too companionable to bore you with long speculations, and so we shall not stop to say what all his occasional remarks might suggest, by way of reply. - In The Old Inn, by Mr. JOSIAH BARNES, Sen., we have a collection of stories, told with considerable power; but the device of a party of travelers meeting accidentally at an inn, and agreeing to tell stories for pastime, is so old and worn that it needs all one's patience to go on with the book. Yet, if the reader will overlook this preliminary want of invention, he will find the stories themselves full of interest and pathos.--A pleasant tale is that of Cone Cut Corners, which strange name, we suppose, means Connecticut Corners--for the scene is chiefly laid in Connecticut. A vein of humor runs through it, which will give the reader a good laugh, if he wants one. Captain Mayfarrie, Miss Provey, the Deacon, and other characters are done to the life. One may also say as much of Ironthorpe, a short story of backwoods life, by PAUL CREYTON, who mingles pathos and fun in nice proportions.-The Tales for the Marines, by HARRY GRINGO-well known to be Lieut. Wise-are animated, witty, and thrilling, having all the rapidity and dash of Captain Marryat, with more originality and humor, and some of his coarseness. -Among the reprints of novels, we have only time to mention, first and foremost, the beautiful large-typed edition of Don Quixotte-translation by Motteaux, and notes by Lockhart-lately issued by Little, Brown & Co., altogether the finest edition of the greatest of romances that has yet appeared. Then, the Grace Lee of Miss KAVANAGH the Mammon of Mrs. GORE, and the Kenneth of Miss YONGE all exciting and meritorious works, to say nothing of DOUGLASS JERROLD's most amusing Men of Character. The Amyas Leigh of Mr. KINGSLEY, we must reserve for a more elaborate notice hereafter. Eastford; or Household Sketches, by WESLEY BROOKE, is an anti-spasmodic book, which shows that the stock of men of letters who feel naturally, think calmly, describe truthfully, and write correctly, has not died out, as some people suppose. The author of Eastford is a contemplative man; and, whether he wields the angler's rod or not, is of the race of IZAAK WALTON, whose mental traits, if not whose piscatory habits, he largely shares-adding to them, however, a wider knowledge of men and things, and a keener insight into the motives of the world's movement. The story of the book, although evidently intended as a mere bond to unite a series of sketches in a common interest, has the charm of a natural, truthful progression; the author has not felt at liberty to violate consistency for the sake of effect. He has laid the scene of his tale in and around an old New England village, excepting the passage of a few stirring incidents which take place in the lamber wilds of Maine, and the vivid relation of which is in striking and pleasing contrast with the placid tone of the rest of the book. We do not suppose that we violate confidence in saying that Wesley Brooke is the assumed name of Mr. GEORGE LUNT, of Boston. A FEW HISTORIES.-"There she is," said Webster, of Massachusetts,-"behold her, and judge for yourself. The world knows her history by heart." But if it does, that is no reason why her history should not be written. Accordingly, Mr. BARRY has given us a most elaborate and agreeable record of it, in his History of Massachusetts. It is a work, which in more respects than its mere form resembles Bancroft's "United States," without being an imitation. It evinces the same research, the same animation, and the same liberal American spirit. Beginning with the earliest discoveries of the State, it describes the landing of the Pilgrims, their troubles with the Indians, their persecutions of the Quakers, and the successive administrations, down to a quite modern period. The author, who cherishes both an admiring love of the heroic qualities of the New England settlers, and a noble disdain of their occasional bigotry and meanness, writes with ease and eloquence, in the temper of a judge, and not of a partisan. His work will take its place, we confidently predict, among the standard books of history; for it is clear, succinct, conscientious, and attractive. - A History of Western Massachusetts, by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND, is confined to the several counties of Hampden, Hampshire, Franklin and Berkshire, and is more of a local than a general narrative. In the first part, we have an outline of general history, but the second part relates to the geology, and the third part to the towns of those particular counties. It has been prepared with much industry and skill, and is a valuable contribution to our local knowledge. Many of the anecdotes which Mr. Holland has collected out of the archives of the old towns, have a quaint and characteristic significance. - No writer has a more charming simplicity of style than ZSCHOKKE, whose Hislory of Switzerland, a household treasure among the Alps, has just been faithfully rendered into English, by FRANCIS GEORGE SHAW. It is the great merit of Zschokke, that while his narrative possesses that clear and limpid beauty, which adapts it to the capacity of children and the people, it has all the accuracy, conciseness and thought which the maturest mind may require. It is the text-book, we believe, of the confederate Cantons. - We confess to a strong liking for LAMARTINE'S Histories. It is true, they are not always accurate, but, it is also true, that they are always profoundly interesting; his sentiments are often sentimentalities, but then his descriptions are pictures. Who can read any one of his books, and forget it? How vividly, and with what poetic elevation, he brings his scenes and characters before the mind! How graceful and flowing his narrative-how liberal, and, for the most part just, his judgments? Take up the first volume of his History of Turkey, just published by the Appletons, and read his account of the rise of Mahomet and his religion, and see if you ever before read a more graphic, impressive, and fascinating story? The East, where Lamartine has spent nine years of his life—with its sunny climate, its wild deserts, its legendary mysteries, its strong passions and lofty enthusiasm--is just the sphere for his fine poetic faculties, and, we cannot doubt, that this Ottoman history will be one of his most characteristic and beautiful books. In the lectures on Louis the Fourteenth, and the Writers of his Age, translated from the French of J. F. Astié by the Rev. E. W. KIRK, we have an able and instructive, though somewhat incomplete view of the literary and religious aspects of the age of the Grand Monarque. They were delivered in French, to a private audience in this city, and have since been translated by Mr. Kirk, who is a friend of the author. The prose part of the translation is good, but the poetry quite indifferent. An ambitious introduction by the translator, is not so skillfully executed as it might have been, although it supplies a rapid review of preliminary French History, which will be found useful in studying the treatise. -The Life of Sam Houston is evidently written with a view to advance his interests as a candidate for the Presidency, but is full of fine material notwithstanding. His experiences of this world have been so varied, that the incidents fall, of themselves, into picturesque and striking forms. Even the turgid style of his biographer cannot divest them of a certain dramatic and robust force. As the boy emigrant, the Indian chief, the successful General, and the influential statesman, his career exhibits the most romantic contrasts, and novel adventures; and, had they been de scribed with a simple reliance upon the facts, without the attempt at elaborate eulogy, which runs through this book, the natural impression produced would have been stronger than the artificial one, aimed at by the writer, is likely to be. -A History of the War, by GEORGE FOWLER, is a succinct but authentic account of all the proceedings of the hostile parties in the East. It is compiled from public and private documents of the highest authority, and gives a clear, though compendious, narrative of the progress of negotiations and hostilities, from the mission of Mentchikoff, up to the siege of Sevastopol. Two excellent maps, one of the Crimea, and the other of the besieged city, add materially to the value of this little vol ume. -The Church History of Dr. CHARLES HASE, lately rendered into English, is one of the best manuals on that subject that we have found. It is succinct but clear, and unites to an astonishing power of condensed expression, the most impartial and comprehensive judgment. The arrangement has all the scientific precision of the Germans, with a liveliness of narrative which is not German. In its sketches of both characters and events, it exhibits a rare insight on the part of the author, whose learning, also, as he is a German, is of course prodigious. -The Lives of the Chief Justices of the United States, of which, we have read the advanced sheets. kindly forwarded to us by Lippincott. Grambo, & Co., promises to be a standard work of history. It is compiled from original and authentic documents, some of them now used. for the first time, and is written in a forcible and attractive style. SOME MISCELLANIES.-We shall speak of Maginn's Miscellanies, as an American book, for, though the substance of it has been printed in foreign Magazines, as a book it is new. Mr. Mackenzie, the editor, is already known by his elaborate edition of Wilson's Noctes Ambrosiana, and has acted judiciously in putting forth Maginn as a kind of continuation of that work. ginn was of the Wilson set; inferior to Wilson in many respects, but exhibiting many of the same qualities. He does not appear to have had the pathos and energy of Wilson, although he shares in his learn Ma ing, his fun, and his convivial sympathies. They, and their companions, were a rollicking, jovial crew (at least in print), as savage as meat-axes the next morning, and as full of loyalty as they were, or pretended to be, of liquor. Their truculent jokes told well in their day, but, we confess, that to us, now, many of them have the smell of an old drink-shop,-or of whisky-fumes and stale tobacco. A great deal of their wit is repulsively coarse, or a great deal of it, as an Irishman would say, no wit at all. It is mere broad whim, or a kind intellectual tours de force,-amusing for the time-but not genuine. The polyglott translations, for instance, are curious evidences of dexterity, but nothing more: the drinking and eating boasts, too, are mere vulgar exaggerations, pleasing alone to swill-tubs; while the arrogant ridicule of contemporary authors, has less humor, and all the low malice of Billingsgate fishwives. Yet, over and above this gin-room slang and maudlin loyalty, there is often in Maginn real humor, touching sentiment, and sound learning. He has a free, hearty, careless way about him that carries you along, by the mere force of animal excitement. You like the fellow, even while he repels you, he is such a gentlemanly and scholarly rowdy. His insolence you ascribe to the bad rum in him; but his talent, his vivacity, his wonderful variety, his originality and independence you ascribe to the man himself. How atrocious the criticisms on Shelley. Keats, Hunt, etc.; yet how capital the burlesques of Wordsworth, Crabbe, Byron, Coleridge and others! What ingenuity in his parodies; what a true bacchanalian swing in his drinking songs; what audacity in his egotisms; what bluster in his critiques, what endless wealth of conceit in his literary disguises! We do not wonder that Blackwood, in his day, was universally disapproved and read-that the booksellers refused to sell it, and yet that every body bought it; or that every body pretended to be disgusted, while every body laughed. It was enough to drive Edinburgh mad, with mingled wrath and mirth-this stormy club of writers and bruisers, who seem to alternate with equal gusto from the rectory to the ring, from pugilism to philosophy, from license to literature, from rum to religion. Mr. Mackenzie has edited the book with vast industry, but not equal judgment. Many of his notes are de trop, and he ought to assume that the class of persons likely to read him will know something of such men as Jeffreys, Hogg, Belzoni, Shelley, Henry Mackenzie, etc., etc., without the assistance of a long biographical account. Sometimes, too, he ludicrously mistakes his author. Maginn, for instance, in one of his maxims, (p. 110,) says the best thing to be drank after cheese is strong ale; and adds ironically, by way of confirmation, "who ever heard of a drayman, who lives almost entirely on bread and cheese, washing it down with water or champagne?" Whereupon Mr. Editor asks, in a note, with all solemnity, "How could a drayman obtain champagne?" Sure enough, Mr. Mackenzie! how could he? But, generally, the notes of the Editor are a real assistance, and we thank him for the pains he has taken both in collecting and elucidating the text. -A work upon making and fencing Clearings, from Paris: a work upon Landscape Gardening, from the banks of the Ohio! Who would not as soon look for the one as for the other? But, in Mr. Kern's Landscape Gardening, published at Cincinnati, we have the latter, showing how rapidly the subtler arts follow in the peaceful train of empire. Mr. Kern has well judged his circumstances, and has produced the right book at the right moment. There are, probably, as each spring opens, a thousand homes where the opportunity and the wish coexist for the first time, for some external sign of ease, and of the love of natural beauty. The want of these, the guidance towards a tasteful expression, this book supplies. The more elaborate works of the class Mr. Kern has read with evident care and discrimination. He is certainly to be commended for making a book of reasonable size, and for writing with straightforwardness upon Landscape Gardening; a treatment which, before Downing's time, was hardly known. The principal English writers-Price, Ripton, Brown, Loudonare two-volume-octavo men. Loudon spun from his laborious head laborious books, full of valuable material, but useful only to the student or man of solid leisure. Most of us here are hasty men, who do not expect at the utmost to reach seventy, who have a great deal to do, and may be called upon as F. Pierce was, at short notice, to be President of this Republic. Art, therefore, for us, whether in words or works, must be condensed. His publishers have put Mr. Kern before the public in great luxury of typography. The genius and expense devoted to the wood engravings might have been concentrated to advantage upon a smaller number; and Mr. K.'s elaborate "rockwork" could have been successfully omitted. —Dr. HAYWARD, President of the Massachusett Medical Society, has just given to the world the more prominent points of his medical experience, with reflections. These "Papers and Reports" indicate a man of the profoundest professional good sense, the preeminent characteristic of our noble old physicians. They are complacently deficient, compared with the French school, in the technical minuteness of detail now obtainable; but have a far outbalancing tact and breadth of intelligent views. If every competent physician should leave such material as this for the deductions of future investigators, science might safely hope to make a vast step forward. -The death of MRS. CHARLOTTE BRONTE NICHOL, the author of "Jane Eyre," of "Shirley," and of "Villette " is too important an event in the literary world for us to allow it to pass without comment. In the accounts which have reached us of her actual personal life and experience, there is little to relieve the sense of sadness which is derived from her books: a feeling of loneliness and untold tragedy which give them an earnestness beyond those of any other contemporary woman. It is scarcely ten years since "Jane Eyre" was published, but the position of its author in English literature is assured. It was not only its vivid characterization, its startling and brilliant description, its glow and passionate pathos, which compelled the homage that followed it; but its profound humanity, its quiet scorn of the conventional accessories of success in fiction, its bold faith in human nature, its perfect freedom from dandyism and dilletantism, and its tone of religious earnestness, without cant or meanness, that made fame salute its author as eminent among women. By these characteristics all the works of Miss Bronte have achieved a permanent place among the best books of the best age |