chief. But ah! he found that his friend was not going to be as good as his word and had no intention of letting him go. Advancing toward him, he seized and pinioned his arms behind him, ere he was aware that any attack was intended. But Paul was not a coward, (although he sung out at the top of his voice for help,) for he used his feet with such force and diligence, that his opponent found that he had got quite as much as he could attend to for the time. And now came the tug of war. Finding that he could not master him alone, the skipper sounded a loud, shrill whistle, and the cabin was immediately filled with men of all ages, sizes and nations. At a word from their commander they fell upon the unfortunate tailor, who, though he battled long and bravely, was yet no match for such fearful odds. Poor Paul was done for. Blow after blow he stood as well as could be expected, and kicked away to the best of his ability. But all his efforts were useless. He could effect nothing. Soon a blow from a heavy, iron-like fist, planted exactly between his eyes, sent him reeling across the cabin; he staggered for a moment in striving to recover his balance, but in vain. He grew faint; his vision swam, and he saw and heard no more. * When Paul came to his senses, he found himself lying upon his back, near the draw of the bridge, and was speedily conscious of much pain in the back of his head, and down his spine. With much difficulty he raised himself up and looked about him. It was just day-break; the stars were yet faintly twinkling in the sky, and he heard no sound, or saw aught that evinced that the inhabitants of the city were stirring. Up to the moment of his faintness, he remembered perfectly all that had transpired; and straining his eyes across the water in search of the strange craft, much to his surprise he found that it had entirely disappeared, and instead of her, he saw the old, crazy, rotten hulk in its usual place, looking precisely as before. It is extremely difficult to describe the mingled sensations that agitated Paul's bosom. He felt sure of the reality of the scenes through which he had passed the previous night, and could easily account for his present situation, on the supposition that the pirates, after maltreating him to their heart's content, had brought his senseless form off from the ship, in the same conveyance that had taken him to it. But the disappearance of the craft, and the apparently unchanged position and appearance of the old hulk bewildered him. He turned it over and over in his mind, bnt could produce no satisfactory result, and therefore abandoned the effort in despair. Raising then himself to his feet, by grasping the railing, he put his hand to his pocket for his handkerchief, to wipe the blood and dirt from his face, but found that it had been abstracted. Quickly he thrust the same member into his other pocket, to ascertain if his wallet containing a few dollars was there, and lo! that too was gone. Paul nearly fell down again in the agitation that he experienced in this discovery. He did not know what to do. In pain, sick and helpless, he was forced to abide there until the rumbling of wheels, and the appearance of a baker's cart on the bridge, inspired him with some little hope. As the vehicle approached he called to the driver, who immediately pulled in his horse, and very kindly descended from his seat, to render all the assistance in his power to the unfortunate man. Paul was well known to nearly every resident of South Boston, and the baker's man, knowing his convivial habits, suspected at once that he had been out all night and was suffering the consequences of his folly. Very considerately then he forbore questioning him, contenting himself with a few general inquiries, and then volunteered to carry him home on his cart, which humane offer was very thankfully accepted by Paul. He was then assisted to the seat, and in a few moments was set down at his own door, in a state of high fever. Poor Paul was very sick for several weeks, and for a few days critically so; but he recovered, however, gradually, and then went before a magistrate and made affidavit to the foregoing narrative. An investigation took place, at the time, of the facts, but nothing of any consequence that could throw any light on the mystery of the transaction, was elicited. It was asserted that the ball fired from the gun cut through one of the rails of the bridge, and a committee was appointed and despatched to the spot, with directions to examine the place and report, but they returned and testified, that they had subjected the railing, from one end of the bridge to the other, to very rigorous examination, but could not find the slightest evidence of the truth of the statement; that they were ready to make oath, that no marks of the passage of a ball existed in any part of it. Several other little circumstances, unimportant in themselves, yet amounting to much in the aggregate, it was found impossible to corroborate, and therefore the matter was laid upon the shelf, where it still remains. Paul, however, persists to this day in maintaining the truth of his original statement; but there are some knowing ones, who, as often as the story is told in their hearing, invariably shake their heads, and give as their opinion, that the tailor, on the night in question, must have been coming home in a nearly, if not quite, unconscious state, and was knocked down and robbed on the bridge, by some person or persons unknown, and that during the time that he lay there, he dreamed through all the incidents Sed ea sunemar GUTI flour Anting were of via ta Affeur s magne a qUT KU E G.7112 She marriet aures of Raingan krng k ne be ay on props a sweet, maa The tune of a man of se Super Box" son text the war vé Axesxan sarwin for suga prasenie aut funnysatsen in on watery at a matery Levi, ir queze candidone so we take a part a cater The was uneasy pre fora come viâ a y when ever jet 20 as a musena appartent to vira londa the text, endenes of the sigh reject of mus marymen. One won't under from the woue ď the erase in the Mesenger, that Nerva en mjuret man and Mr. Iringa yazara. Now, What are the facts? fly them. When Airzester H. Er was at byan te ter25 aoyuanded with Savarette. The latter had seen In your womey engaged in ovating ancient croniesen for facta relative to thee and voyages A Connutra. It serred to Mr. Everett that it would be desirable to have an Eagan transation of the work prepared. He therefore wrote to Mr. Irving, them at Bordeaux, and suggested the undertaking to him. Mr. Irving repaired to Madrid, with the intention of translating Navarette's work. Upon examination, however, he found it rich in material, but wholly unfit for the purpose he contemplated. It consisted of a mass of details care. I fully gathered from various sources, but neither digested nor arranged in a manner adapted to popular biography. The idea then occurred to Mr. Irving of course, to write a life of Columbus, making use, of the facts thus collated by the Spanish historian. He prosecuted the design much to the satisfaction of Navarette, who, instead of feeling aggrieved, was most happy that his materials were thus made subservient to a useful and tasteful object. Mr. Irving did not, however, by any means, confine himself to the work of Navarette. He availed himself of every source of information within his reach, and toiled with a faithfulness and skill, of which his Life of Columbus is itself the best evidence. In the preface to that and other works, he WW ME MY JUzdet-se performed a duty # The idea tras perng de chan- 1 ter Scott's prefaces, and would form a good appendix to the original work. We think Mr. Irving has consulted his self-respect in declining any formal reply to such attacks. We have reason to know that when his attention was called to them, he asked a literary friend to read them in his behalf, and inform him if they required any personal response. That friend assured him they did not, and in that opinion we doubt not the public will coincide. and handsome style as the poems of Motherwell and Tennyson, issued by the same publisher. Mr. Lunt is a vigorous writer of verse. The spirit of his muse is always healthful and kindly. He does not excel in fancifulness or graphic details, but is rather distinguished for correct and often forcible thought and true sentiment. The subject of the principal poem in the volume before us is admirably suited to the times. It is a judicious and, in many respects, eloquent protest against the prevailing devotion to gain. It opens with the praise of the golden age, when With equal flame each kindred bosom glowed, Nor this one reaped what that with toil had sowed. And it proceeds to unfold the absurdities and perversions incident to the exclusive pursuit of wealth. There are two themes upon which the poet is especially indignant, wherein he cannot but win the sympathy of every right-minded reader. We allude to the audacious insensibility of dishonest bankrupts, and the unchristian war waged by England in China. The main topic is happily introduced: The Golden Age! alas, let truth be told, A failure in old times is well contrasted with one of more recent occurrence, and the probity of our fathers commended,-when the debtor -paid each coin of borrowed pelf, And left no man a beggar but himself. There is a warm allusion to the poet's "golden words" Coined in his fiery heart in silence deep, Alone amid a weary world asleep : and a fine touch of description in the sketch of a hunter reposing by his fireside, after the chase,who His trusty friend, well tried, once more would try, Down its brown barrel aims his curious eye. The Miser is painted at full length, as The school-boy's moral, marvel of the wise, Jest of the world and riddle of the skies. Avarice the poet represents as the besetting sin of our republic, and he appeals with earnestness to that sense of national honor which is the more to be cherished because, in this young country, -no proud castles frown along the land, No generous race to keep alive the flame Of lofty honor and unspotted name; With genial charms to wreathe the muse's bower, Give learning leisure and to genius power. But the absence of artificial refinements is amply compensated by majestic scenery: Nature still surrounds us, ever true To claim the soul's responses for her due; Where the broad mountain lifts his hoary crown, Or autumn suns the waving fields imbrown; Where with one moan perpetual ocean swells, Or moonlit fountains gush in fairy dells, And heaven's rejoicing bridegroom downward dips, To meet the kiss of twilight's dewy lips. Like almost all elaborate didactic poems, the "Age of Gold" is unequal in point of interest and style. There are several illegitimate rhymes, and occasional carelessness of expression and mediocrity of thought; but, as a whole, it is very creditable to its author both in a literary and moral point of view. At the close, a most feeling tribute is paid by the poet to the memory of one whose early and irreparable loss woke to a melancholy and moving strain the harp whose most cheering melody she had so often inspired. We cannot forbear quoting the entire passage: Thus runs the lay; and now the lyre is broke; The living spirit and the soul of thought, Of the miscellaneous poems in this volume, several are characterized by terseness and spirit, such as "The Departure of the Frigate," "The Brave Old World," and "The Skater." Mr. Lunt has evidently formed his taste on the old English models, a much more genial standard for the American mind than can be found either in German vagueness or the liquid softness of the muse of the "sweet south." We have been struck with the manly simplicity and pure Saxon diction which constitute the peculiar merit of many of these verses. The example is both good and seasonable, and when such a commendable use of language is joined, as in the instance before us, with generous feeling and a clear mind, we cannot but welcome the bard and hope for his speedy re-appearance. PLEASANT MEMORIES OF PLEASANT LANDS. BY L. H. Sigourney. Boston: James Munroe & Company. 1842. In the absence of the usual supply of elegant annuals, this beautifully executed book will doubtless prove acceptable to the public. Like all the writings of Mrs. Sigourney, it is conceived in a good spirit. It refers, however, to hackneyed themes, and we find little originality in the manner they are dealt with. The unpretending preface and fragmentary character of the book disarm criticism. Still, with all our consideration for the lady's motives and our reverence for the high principle which guides her pen, we must be permitted to suggest that she holds the art of poetry in too little veneration. She has published an amount of verse far greater than Bryant, Halleck, or any of our renowned bards,-far too much for any but an extraordinary mind to produce, of a quality at all commensurate with the quantity. In fact, Mrs. Sigourney is too mechanical and occasional to do either herself or the holy art she professes, anything like justice. It will never answer to make the moral tone of poetry an excuse for its essential inferiority. "Poor, but pious," is a phrase we once heard applied to a volume of poems, and it is one which true taste must accord, however reluctantly, to many of the effusions of this estimable lady. Many of the sentiments in this dainty volume are excellent, and occasionally the rhythmical portion rises to the dignity, or flows with the sweetness of poetic impulse; but, besides the use of such unpleasant abbreviations as "'neath," "'scape," and the like, there is a careless, prosaic, common-place strain often indulged, of which one enjoying the reputation of Mrs. Sigourney should feel herself unworthy. Sea-sickness is a damper, we all know, to the poetical vein as well as to the animal spirits; but in the calm healthfulness of the green earth, who, aspiring to the title of minstrel, would publish the following as poetry, however appropriate it may be to a friendly prose letter? I would not wish to be Fastidious, or too difficult to please; Yet I've a fondness, now and then, to tread On something firm, and not be always dashed Against the call when walking, nor in sleep Tossed from the pillow to the state-room floor, Aghast and ill at case. p. 13. In speaking of Kenilworth, a similar instance occurs: And when once more I reach my pleasant home, We make these quotations in no captious spirit. We would fain be gentle and courteous to the fair and good, in the field of letters as well as on the arena of life. We have felt, however, that there was danger of public taste being perverted by the erroneous principle so much in vogue, of accepting as true poetry what are merely versified moral precepts. Mrs. Sigourney owes her popularity, in a great measure, to her identity with a large religious party. We would have her fully aware of this. We would kindly bid her exercise more discrimination and spontaneous sentiment in her devotion to the muses. Let her not write merely because a good neighbor dies, or a renowned scene is visited, but because some real inspiration warms her heart, because deep emotion is aroused, because there are stirring in her bosom thoughts that crave utterance, and feelings that thirst for expression. Thus, with rare exceptions, wrote Mrs. Hemans. It is not in events, but in the soul, that poetry is born. It is not by the number but by the genuineness of the offerings that the muses are propitiated. We have thus spoken, not without a due sense of the excellent service Mrs. Sigourney has rendered to the cause of education, nor in forgetfulness of her happier poetic efforts; but because we have looked in vain for some other admirer of her character and talents, to perform the ungrateful, but still friendly duty of reminding her (what indiscriminate applause may have caused her to forget) how much is due to herself, to her friends, and to "the divinest of all arts." HISTORY OF EUROPE, from the commencement of the French Revolution, in 1799, to the Restoration of the Bourbons, in 1815. By Archibald Alison, F. R. S. E. Advocate. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1842. Nos. 1 and 2. Time was when, to peruse a history which cost fourteen years of labor, was no light task. Long days were consumed over ponderous folios, and slowly toiled the reader through battles, intrigues and dynasties. The work mentioned above, has attracted an unusual share of attention in England. The period comprised in the annals it records is one familiar and deeply interesting to the present age. Mr. Alison is commended, by numerous judicious critics, for his faithful research, his copious reference to authorities, and, in many respects, for the style and general execution of his extensive undertaking. On the other hand, politi |