"O, my daughter," she replied--" my daughter, she wanted a new hat, and because I only told her to wait a few days, she flew into a passion and has abused me."

He went home and wrote a polite note to the young lady, but was cured of his love. Try, added Madame Rigney, for that was the name of my adviser, try also, by all means to take a short journey with the lady of your intended choice. From the events of one day you will discover more of her real disposition than you will in a month at her father's house."

Mrs. Hale, I laid down the book, and determined to follow the advice it contained, visit my charmer unexpectedly, and persuade her to take a ride with me, but the season will render the last manœuvre not very easy to accomplish. If it was only a fashionable time for excursions I think I could succeed. But the unseasonable calls I am resolved on making. And yet, should I find her unworthy my esteem it would pain me excessively. May there not sometimes be adequate causes for the pettishness of a lady, even a young lady? And supposing my Delia should institute a regular, (or rather irregular) system of espionage, on my conduct, how should I bear the scrutiny? These thoughts, I confess, trouble me, and so, Madam, as your zeal in the cause of your sex is well known, I have ventured to intrude, and would ask your advice in this dilemma.

D. *****.

Our advice is, that D. *****, before expecting perfection in his lady fair, should thoroughly examine his own heart and conduct, and be certain that he merits a faultless bride. To our readers, young ladies, it may be well to suggest that, as the gentlemen are becoming very critical, it will be well and wise for the ladies to be prepared for the scrutiny by always keeping the house and the temper in that perfect equanimity and order which shall baffle all these evil surmisers. The ladies can easily do this, and we have no doubt but they will.

ED.

TIME'S FESTIVAL.

Old Time once held a festival
To bless the opening year,
The feast he spread was free to all;
From lowly hut, from lordly hall,
He bade his guests appear;

But for useful thrift he has long been famed-
So lest his revel might be blamed

For luxury and art,

The only requisite he named

Was to come with a happy heart.

Who gathered to that scene of mirth
With joy's benignant brow?

Time looked for none of the mighty of earth-
The potentates of lofty birth,

Before whom nations bow

He knew that crowns had thorns of care-
But the smiling courtier-came he there ?
Or fashion's brilliant throng?

The proud, the brave, the rich, the fair?
The lords of wit and song?

When Time had scanned the number o'er
That came to share his feast,

"Tis said, he declared that never more
Would he hold his court on the old-world's shore,
Or bid a titled guest―

So we opine they would not join,

Where the happy ones were sure to shine!—
And then his brightest days,
Full on Freedom's mighty shrine

Time turned their glorious rays.

And thus Columbia was ordained

The home of the happy hearted;
Not here the soul in seeming chained-
Not here the smile by flattery feigned
Not here is true-love marted-
But life's bright path is free to all,
Yet should Time hold a festival

To bless the coming year,

And only bid the happy call

Who, think you, would appear?

CORNELIA.

LITERARY NOTICES.

FUGITIVE POETRY. By N. P. Willis. Boston. Pierce & Williams. The poems that make up this thin, delicate-looking volume, have all, or nearly all appeared in different publications, and have therefore nothing of the charm of novelty to recommend them; they depend on their own merits and beauties for public favor. And they have beauties and merits sufficient to entitle them to much praise, were we not so often painfully conscious that the writer has not done what he could,' that he has a mind, a genius which should be more worthily and loftily employed than in stringing such puerile, affected rhymes as make up at least, one half these pages. Mr. Willis would be thought a lover, and he has as many favorite fair ones as would fill a harem, but the affectation of all this sentiment is so apparent, that not one of the maidens but might reply with truth

He thinks so much of his own dear sel'
He has nae love to spare for me.'

How we wish Mr. Willis would forget himself, and transfer the warmth of his fine fancy, for such he really has, and the energies of his mind to subjects which would not only give him a lasting fame, but elevate the character of his country's literature. An American should not live merely for himself; his country, in her peculiar and rapid progress requires the aid of all her gifted sons; and there never was a field where the real inspirations of the muse had a fairer chance for immortality. Our songs are to be made, the strains that shall have the spell of power to bind our sympathies to the land of our birth are unsung. We have had enough of the sublime in our odes on Liberty, Independence, &c. but we rarely have the simplicity and feeling which touches the

heart.

Our writers are usually for elevating their subject by a lofty style, and in hymning the violet they are pretty sure to make the strain as similar as possible to Byron's " Darkness. "It is this inflated, metaphorical, artificial manner of writing which prevents what are intended for national songs and ballads from becoming popular. Now, from some descriptive poetry Mr. Willis has written, we think, would be lay aside his affectation of the pretty idle fellow, and the young man, and really be in earnest to deserve the praise he covets, he might obtain it. And so, instead of commenting on the volume before us, and carping at its faults, we shall take the liberty of advising the author to correct, or at least atone for them by writing, what he can do, a better book. The following

sentiment from a favorite of his, L. E. L. (not his dog) contains a moral which he would do well to treasure and apply.

"Ever from poet's lute hath flown
The sweetness of its early tone,
When from its wild flight it hath bowed,
To seek for homage mid the crowd;
Be the one wonder of the night,
As if the soul could be a sight;
And all its burning numbers speak,
Were written upon brow and cheek;
And he forsooth must learn its part,

Must choose his words and school his heart
To one set mould, and pay again
Flattery with flattery as vain;
Till mixing with the throng too much,
The cold the vain, he feels as such;
Then marvels that his silent lute
Beneath that worldly hand is mute.
-Away! these scenes are not for thee:
Go dream beneath some lonely tree;
Away to some far, woodland spring,
Dash down thy tinsel crown, and wring
The scented unguents from thy hair;
If thou dost hope that crown to share,
The laurels bards immortal wear,-
Muse thou o'er leaf, and drooping flower,
Wander at evening's haunted hour;
Listen the stock dove's plaining song,
Until it bear thy soul along.

Then call upon thy freed lute's strain,
And it will answer thee again.

A UNIVERSAL PRAYER; DEATH; A VISION OF HEAVEN; and a VISION OF HELL ; &c. &c. By Robert Montgommery. Boston. Charles Ewer. The book before us is written in blank verse, in a strain of solemn thought befitting the subjects of the different poems; and it has some beautiful passages, but we do not think it entitled to very exalted praise. The celebrity this author acquired by his production entitled "Omnipresence of the Deity," doubtless has had the effect to make this work more favorably received than it otherwise would have been. The circumstance also of finding one so young dedicating his powers of mind, and all the gifts of his genius to the service of virtue and his God, makes the criticism which searches for the trivial faults of style and language seem almost impious. Neither do the palpable imitations that so frequently occur in the work, appear so much like plagiarisms as they would were the subjects discussed other than they are. The leading truths of our religious belief permit not the sports of imagination, and they have so often been the theme of grave discussion that we think it almost impossible they can be represented in a new garb. And so in truth it is. And we think the poet deserving of credit for the attempt, even had he been less successful. There

are a few minor poems in the book, and among these the one entitled" Beautiful Influences," has some fine passages. We give one extract.

Are there not hours of an immortal birth,-
Bright visitations from a purer sphere,
That cannot live in language? Is there not

A mood of glory, when the mind attuned

To heaven, can out of dreams create her worlds?—
Oh! none are so absorb'd as not to feel

Sweet thoughts like music coming o'er the mind:
When prayer, the purest incense of a soul,
Hath risen to the throne of heaven, the heart
Is mellow'd, and the shadows that becloud
Our state of darken'd being, glide away;
The heavens are open'd! and the eye of Faith
Looks in, and hath a fearful glimpse of God!

THE VISION OF CORTES; CAIN AND OTHER POEMS. By W. Gilmore Simns jr.; Charleston, S. C. James S. Burgess. The author of these poems has, at present, more fancy than judgment, or he would not have published this volume, when it is so evident, from many passages in the book, that he could have written a better one. We cannot commend him much for what he has done, but we earnestly advise him to cultivate, with all his might, the powers of mind he possesses; and he will hereafter produce something more worthy of that fame which, we rejoice to see, is sought eagerly by the young men of our country.

FIRST LESSONS IN INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY: or, a Familiar Explanation of the nature and operations of the Human Mind. First American Edition. Adapted to the use of schools. By Rev. Silas Blaisdale. Boston, Lincoln & Edmands. pp. 357. From the hasty examination we have been able to give the above work we should think it well adapted to its design, which is, for an elementary, or work designed for schools, its best commendation. We have not space for a long article, or extracts; but we think the Rev. gentleman who prepared this edition for the benefit of youthful minds, is deserving of much praise for his judicious labors.

A CATECHISM OF NATURAL THEOLOGY. Portland, Shirley & Hyde. This book is from the pen of the Rev. Dr. Nichols of Portland. It has obviously been prepared, by its excellent author, for the benefit of the young, for Sabbath Schools; and we cannot too highly applaud its object, or recommend its execution. The style is remarkable for its simplicity, and beautiful adaption to the subjects discussed, and the plates by which they are illustrated render the whole perfectly intelligible to a child, while men may study it with advantage. Such books must be popular. It should be immediately introduced into every Sabbath school in the nation.