The circumstantiality of the murder of Nancy is more harrowing than the bulletin of fifty thousand men killed at Borodino. Bloodshed in mid-day comes home to our peaceful threshold; it shocks the order of things; it occurs amid life. Wholesale carnage, battle's own daughter, is what we expect, and is gilded with glory and victory, not visited by shame and punishment. shame when treated as a fool-born joke, and those who "Laws his Pindaric parents minded not, Boz fails whenever he attempts to write for effect; his descriptions of rural felicity and country scenery, of which he clearly knows much less than of London, where he is quite at home and wide awake, are, except when comical, over-labored and out of Nature. His "gentle and genteel folks" are unendurable; they are devoid of the grace, repose, and ease of good society; a something between Cheltenham and New York. They and their extreme propriety of ill-bred goodbreeding, are (at least we hope so) altogether the misconceptions of our author's uninitiated imagination, mystified by the inanities of the kid-glove novelists. Boz is, nevertheless, never vulgar when treating on subjects which are avowedly vulgar. He deals truly with human nature, which never can degrade; he takes up every thing, good, bad, or indifferent, which he works up into a rich alluvial deposite. He is natural, and that never can be ridiculous. He is never guilty of the two common extremes of second-rate authors the one a pretension of intimate acquaintance with the inner life of Grosvenor Square-the other an affected ignorance of the doings, and a sneering at the bad dinners of Bloomsbury-he leaves that for people to whom such dinners would be an unusual feast. We are bound to admit that Boz's young ladies are awfulKate Nickleby is the best of them-but they are all bad enough; but we must also admit that, both in fic-in an emeute, or a massacre.' tion and reality, these bread-and-butter budding beauties are most difficult to deal with, except we are in love with them. They are neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, and as Falstaff says of Dame Quickly, no man knows where to have them. His mulhos, or plot, is devoid of art. This, a fault in comedy, is pardonable in tragedy-where persons, not events, excite. We foresee the thunder-cloud over Edipus and the master of Ravenswood without decrease of interest, which is not diminished even on reperusal, by our perfect knowledge of the catastrophe; but Boz must remember that he is not in the high tragedy line, which deals more in expression of elevated persons and thoughts, in an elevated manner, than in the mere contrast of situations and events; and make a better story next time. He should also avoid, in future, all attempts at pure pathos-on which he never ventures without reminding us of Sterne and his inferiority to that master. Let him stick to his native vein of the serio-comic, and blend humor with pathos. He shines in this; his fun sets off his horrors as effectually as a Frenchman's gravity in a quadrille does his levity We extract the following beautiful and pathetic lines from says, "I Mr. Willis's "Jottings Down in London." Mr. W. never seen before, and here is one good thing from it." LINES TO A SISTER DEAD. BY JOHN KENYON. I think of thee, my sister, in my sad and lonely hours, Boz is regius professor of slang, that expression of the mother-wit, the low humor of the lower classes, their Sanscrit, their hitherto unknown tongue, which, in the present phasis of society and politics, seems likely to become the idiom of England. Where drabs, house-breakers, and tavern-spouting patriots play the first fiddle, they can only speak the language which expresses their ideas and habits. In order fully to enjoy their force, we must know the conventional value of these symbols of ideas, although we do not understand the lingo like Boz, who has it at its fingers' ends. We are amused with the comicality, in spite of our repugnance that the decent veil over human guilt and infirmities should be withdrawn; we grieve that the deformity of nakedness should not only be exhibited to the rising generation, but rendered agreeable by the undeniable drollery; a coarse transcript would not be tolerated. This is the great objection which we feel towards Oliver Twist. It deals with the outcasts of I think on thee, dear sister; I think on thee at even, humanity, who do their dirty work in work, pot, and When I see the first and fairest star steal peaceful out of heaven. watch-houses, to finish on the Newgate drop. Alas!I hear thy sweet and touching voice, in each soft breeze that Like music that enchants the ear-like sights that bless the eye; thee. blows, Whether it waft red autumn-leaf, or fan the summer rose. I mourn for thee, my Charlotte, and shall ever mourn for theo. ETERNITY. for the Horatian precept, "Virginibus puerisque canto." The happy ignorance of innocence is disregarded. Our youth should not even suspect the possibility of such hidden depths of guilt, for their tender memories are wax to receive and marble to retain. These infamies feed the inmate evil principle, which luxuriates in the supernatural and horrid, the dread and delight of our childhood, which is never shaken off, for no man entirely outlives the nursery. We object to the familiarizing our ingenious youth with "slang;" it is based in travestie of better things. Noble and generous ideas, when expressed in low and mean terms, become ludicrous from the contrast and incongruity; "du sublime au ridicule il n'y a qu'un pas." But the base vehicle conveys too frequently opinions and sentiments which could thus alone gain admission. The jests and jeers have the third, that of number, completing the triad, of the "slangers" leave a sting behind them. They in the countless stars; themselves the gems of eternicorrupt pure taste and pervert morality, for vice loses i ty-an eternity alike of space and time. At all times we have two eternities before us the one, that of time, in our imagination; and the other, that of space, in the blue heavens, which reach above and around us, we know not where. And nightly we G. THE STUDENT IN AGRIPPA'S MUSEUM.* It was a spacious vaulted room, And many a carving grim, In torch-light now, and now in gloom, In the midst a brazen table bore A mighty volume old, And sealed it was with five and four Hard by a silver censer stood, And as nearer the student came, And he thought as it met his eager sight, On the hidden things, be what they might, The clasps he openeth one by one, And little dreaming of ill, The words uncouth to read begun, That did the pages fill. The incense flame, of late so clear, And as those accents rang around, Yet he, it seem'd, heard not the sound, On, on, he went, when, lo! there came But, with a third and furious stroke, Like one from fearful dream awoke, IV. *"But the most extraordinary story of Agrippa is told by Del-science, from the petty cares of the world. We might rio, and is as follows:-Agrippa had occasion one time to be almost imagine, that with the beams of the stars, absent for a few days from his residence at Louvaine. During which they so often gazed upon, they had imbibed a his absence he entrusted his wife with the key of his museum, but with an earnest injunction that no one on any account should portion of their wondrous duration. be allowed to enter. Agrippa happened at that time to have a boarder in his house, a young fellow of insatiable curiosity, who would never give over importuning his hostess, till at length he obtained from her the forbidden key. The first thing in the mu. seum that attracted his attention was a book of spells and incantations. He spread this book upon a table, and, thinking no harm, began to read aloud. He had not long continued this occupation, when a knock was heard at the door of the chamber. The youth took no notice, but continued reading. Presently followed a second knock, which somewhat startled him. The space of a moment having elapsed, and no answer made, the door was opened, and a demon entered! "For what purpose am I called?" said the stranger sternly; "what is it you demand to have done?" The youth was seized with the greatest alarm and struck speechless. The demon advanced towards him, took him by the throat and strangled him, indignant that his presence should be thus invoked from pure thoughtlessness and presumption."[Vide Godwin's Lives of the Necromancers: article "Cornelius Agrippa." The reviewer of Crabbe's life and writings, in the Edinburgh Review, whilst speaking of his being a great reader, observes "But the reading which was constantly going on, was mostly reading for amusement. Nineteen twentieths of their principal supply of modern literature are said to have been novels." Perhaps it was a romantic tendency produced by such reading, that led him, when an old man, to imagine himself in love; for it is said that he then fell in love with several ladies, one after the other in quick succession; and these passions could hardly have been otherwise than imaginary. V. The expressed idea coincides but faintly with the original, as it existed in the mind. The one is to the other, as the purple and amber clouds which float almost sure to expect pleasure, even though perhaps that which formerly caused this pleasure, is not supposed by us to be now there; if our expectations are realized, we say that we had a presentiment of it, whereas it was only the action of the principle of association-i. e. from having once enjoyed ourselves there, we ever after associated with it the idea of pleasure. VIII. through the twilight heavens, to the dark and colorless | selves in any place, when going there again, we are mass, which they become, when night, like the car of a conqueror, has rolled over the earth. This is, owing in some measure to the imperfection of language. Some men too have a greater command over words than others, and a greater knowledge of their exact meaning and differences, and hence what are most suitable to convey an idea in the strongest possible manner. But the great cause, in all cases, which renders the expressed idea inferior in strength to the original, is, that every idea enters the mind with many beautifying, or strengthening associations, and when it is expressed, most of these must necessarily be lopped off: or in fact, they are frequently so intangible, that they cannot be expressed at all, in words. Every one who has transcribed his ideas, must feel this weakening process in a greater or less degree. But if such be the case with the multitude of writers, how great must be the difference with a Shakspeare or a Shelley. How little must the world know of their glorious imaginings. VI. Industry may be carried so far as to become an evil: for all amusements being forsaken, making money becomes the only one; and being thus made the sole occupation and thought of life, it becomes an idol, upon whose altar all the noble feelings of the heart, one after the other, are sacrificed. VII. Presentiment of evil is oftentimes nothing more than a modification of fear. When, for instance, we are entering upon any undertaking, whether of amusement or business, however great may be the pleasure that we expect from it, still we have always some fears lest we should meet with something unpleasant. The knowledge gained by experience, that we are almost always disappointed in our expectations, is in itself sufficient to damp our hopes, and mingle them with fears. And this feeling is the stronger, accordingly, as our mind is more or less tinged with sadness at the time, or as there are just grounds for some fear. If, on such occasions, we meet with no accident whatever, we think no more of our preceding feelings, or as only under their real character-but if we do meet with one, we change the name of fear into that of presentiment. In most cases, we deceive ourselves in this manner. We imagine that we had a presentiment of a thing happening; whereas there existed some cause for this expectation, of which cause we were unconscious, and therefore thought that there was none at all. This cause may have existed only to produce the expectation, and then to vanish from our memory; or, as is most commonly the case, it may still continue to exist along with it-we being unconscious of such existence. Thus a state of joy or sadness, existing just before we had fixed our thoughts upon something of whose event we were doubtful, whether it will be good or evilaccordingly as this previous or perhaps accompanying state was joy or sadness, so will our expectation, or in other words, our presentiment, be of good or evil. We may say then, generally, that presentiment is nothing more than expectation produced by some cause, of the existence of which cause in our mind, we are unconscious. This cause, of which we are unconscious, is often nothing more than the association of ideas. Thus, for instance, if we have formerly enjoyed our When we are in doubt which of two courses of conduct to pursue, the great motives being balanced, it is frequently the small ones which turn the scale. And we often act unconsciously rather from the impulse of these less motives, than from that of the greater. When, too, events occur, favorable to our happiness in several respects, frequently we rejoice rather from the expectation of the more trifling benefit, than from that of the more important-particularly, as is often the case, if the former be the more immediate. And the same thing takes place with regard to our grief at the loss of any thing that was beneficial to us in several respects. IX. If you wish a friend to admire a favorite volume, never praise it too highly; for he, expecting too much, will be disappointed ;-or, at any rate, the desire and expectancy of being pleased, alone, by their mixture with the pleasure taken in reading it, will diminish its intensity by the complexity produced. We often desire a person to like a book, as much as if this were a great acquisition to ourselves. However it is sometimes: for a mutually admired book has a great tendency to cement friendship. X. They who have religion, must necessarily be more happy at all times than those who have it not. For in the midst of pain and affliction, their faith will lift their minds unto the joys of Heaven-joys in which they feel that they must soon participate-and in this contemplation their immediate earthly troubles are forgotten: as the eagle, surmounting the clouds that hang loweringly over the earth, floats far above in the sunny and unclouded heavens. XI. Judging from past history, fanaticism appears to form an essential trait in the New England character. It was this spirit, which, in the reign of Charles I, plundered and despoiled the churches, and which, finally, beheaded him. After the Puritans had emigrated to America, it was owing to this same spirit, that they were persecuted who differed from them in religious matters, and that the old women were burnt as witches. It must have some channel of discharge, and this it has at the present time found in abolitionism. THE SILENT TEAR. Ah! lady, say, when I am nigh, There was a time, when thou wouldst smile, Thou weepest now, if I but twine Thy small, white, trembling hand in mine; There was a time, when thou wouldst prove, And grasp my hand, when I was near, To wipe away thy silent tear. Ah! well I know the secret grief But, oh! I cannot yield relief; Mine is the same-the grief of years— Witness, alas! my silent tears. MILFORD BARD. readers have never seen Burton on the stage, they have been deprived of a rare pleasure, and his recent great success on the New York boards, has given him a new claim to the rank of the very first of American comedians. How truly praiseworthy is it in Burton, in the midst of histrionic fame and popularity, not to forget that he is also a useful and effective member of the republic of letters. He is not only a fine actor, but an admirable writer; as a critic, he cuts with one of the keenest edged knives we have ever seen, and woe be unto the luckless wight who is obliged to submit to his operations. They are absolutely withering, as one or two specimens in the September number will abundantly testify. We are pleased to find that our old assistant, Edgar A. Poe, is connected with Burton in the editorial management of the "Gentleman's Magazine." Mr. Poe, is favorably known to the readers of the Messenger, as a gentle. man of fine endowments; possessing a taste classical and refined; an imagination affluent and splendid, and witha'l, a sin gular capacity for minute and mathematical detail. We always predicted that Mr. Poe would reach a high grade in American literature, but we also thought and still think, that he is too much attached to the gloomy German mysticism, to be a useful and effective writer, without a total divorce from that sombre school. Take for example, the tale of "the Fall of the House of Usher," in the September number of the Magazine, which is understood to be the production of his pen. It is written with great power, but leaves on the mind a painful and horrible im pression, without any redeeming admonition to the heart. It resembles a finely sculptured statue, beautiful to the eye, but without an immortal spirit. We wish Mr. Poe would stick to the department of criticism; there, he is an able professor, and he uses up the vermin who are continually crawling, unbidden, into the literary arena, with the skill and nonchalance of a practised surgeon. He cuts them up by piece-meal, and rids the republic of letters, of such nuisances, just as a good officer of police sentences to their proper destination, the night-strollers and vaga. bonds who infest our cities. We sincerely wish Mr. Poe well, THE "KNICKERBOCKER," AND THE "GEN. and hope that he will take our advice in good part. The Sep TLEMAN'S MAGAZINE." We desire to notice more frequently than we do, some of the magazines of our country, distinguished for literary excellence. In future we are resolved to do it, even to the exclusion of other matter. If our instrumentality can recommend them to southern patronage, we shall lend it with pleasure. We are all laboring in the same cause, and if we can help each other, it is our duty to do so. In Virginia, to say nothing of other southern states, there are many country gentlemen of wealth and education, who, by subscribing for a dozen, or even half a dozen periodicals, might diffuse in their neighborhoods a taste for the delightful recreations of literature, and that taste, if excited, would supplant the relish for gross pleasures. How few of our families are reading ones, in the strict sense of the term! Besides the newspaper, the Farmers' Register, the Sporting Magazine, and the year's almanac, a few trashy novels, constitute, it is feared, the major part of the libraries of our otherwise social, agreeable and hospitable country houses. If our squires won't read themselves, why don't they provide solid and substantial nutriment for their wives, sons and daughters? We insist upon it, that they cannot spend their surplus cash better. Here, for example, is the Knickerbocker of New York; we have before us the August number, and a very pleasant, instructive, and delightful one it is. The letter on the "London theatres," from the author of an "American in Paris," is absolutely worth, to a man of true taste, a whole year's Knickerbocker subscription. Not Washington Irving himself, nor " Boz," nor Willis, nor any of the host of periodical writers, ever delighted us more. wish our readers could share the pleasure we experienced in reading that one article. The Knickerbocker, by the way, is not only freighted in its monthly voyages by the rich adventures of "Geoffrey Crayon"-but another great name will be shortly added to the list of its contributors. Charles Dickens, the inimitable "Boz;" the author of Pick Wick, Oliver Twist, &c. &c., is about to adorn its pages with his truly original and fertile mind. His thoughts will appear on this side of the Atlantic, in their fresh and virgin state. We are all tiptoe to see how he will first address an American audience. We Here too, on our table, is " Burton's Gentleman's Magaz'ne,” for September, and a very gentlemanly magazine it is. If our tember number of the Magazine, is embellished by a fine portrait of Richard Penn Smith, a respectable American dramatist and poet. Besides various other interesting pieces, it contains an excellent article on Gymnastics, understood also, to be from the pen of Mr. Poe. THE SUNBEAM. I flit o'er the ocean-'tis shrouded in light; The sparkling of fountains-the glow of the rill- I peer through the casement, and scatter the gloom And thus, 'mid the tempests and storms that arise, S. P. ADVERTISEMENTS. WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY OF BALTIMORE. Medical Department-Session 1839, 1840. The regular Lectures in this Institution will commence on the last Monday of October, and continue to the first of March. The Faculty consists of the following Professors, in the order of their appointment: James H. Miller, M. D., Professor of Anatomy and Physiology: Samuel K. Jennings, M. D., Professor of Materia Medica, Therapeutics and Legal Medicine: William W. Handy, M. D., Professor of Obstetrics and Diseases of Women and Children: John C. S. Monkur, M. D., Professor of Institutes and Practice of Medicine: Edward Foreman, M. D., Professor of Chemistry: John R. W. Dunbar, M. D., Professor of Surgery and Surgical Anatomy: W. R. Handy, Demonstrator of Anatmoy : The plan of this Institution is different from any other in this country. The College buildings are so constructed as to present peculiar advantages to the Student, which every intelligent Medical man will at once perceive, as it unites a Medical College, Marine and City Hospital, and rooms and excellent board for a large number of resident Students, who have the charge of patients under the direction of the Professors. Clinical Lectures are delivered during the Session on Medicine and Surgery, by the Professors of the respective chairs. Additional Information in reference to the plan, terms, &c., and a circular may be obtained by a letter addressed to Oct. 1. JOHN R. W. DUNBAR, M. D. COLUMBIAN COLLEGE, The Medical Department of this institution has recently been reorganized, and the Lectures will hereafter commence on the first Monday in November, annually, and continue until the 1st of March. During this period, full courses will be delivered on the various branches of Medicine by THOMAS SEWALL, M. D., Professor of the Principles of Pathology and the Practice of Medicine. THOMAS P. JONES, M. D, Professor of Chemistry and Pharmacy. HARVEY LINDSLY, M. D., Professor of Obstetrics and the Diseases of Women and Children. THOMAS MILLER, M. D., Professor of the Principles and Practice of Surgery. This Seminary is located on Shock Hill, three squares from the Capitol, in a healthy and central situation; the house is very spacious and thereby capable of accommodating forty Young Ladies. The course of instruction embraces Reading, Orthography, Penmanship, Grammar, Arithmetic, Geography, (ancient and modern,) Universal History, (in connection with the study and delineation of maps,) Composition, Moral, Mental and Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, Botany, Algebra, &c. There are also weekly Lectures on Chemistry and Mechanics, illustrated by means of an extensive apparatus. As the purpose of this Institution is, however, not only to impart a finished English Education, but also to afford facilities to Southern Young Ladies for the acquisition of the ornamental branches, the cooperation of efficient teachers in Music, both vocal and instrumental, in Drawing and Painting, and also in the French, Italian, Spanish, and Latin Languages, has been obtained. And since at the present day it has become quite a desideratum to possess the faculty of conversing in the modern languages, the Young Ladies are required to speak either French or Italian in the family. SYSTEM OF THE SCHOOL. disconnected with the others, and having a well qualified teacher The School is divided into four departments, each being totally presiding over its limited number of pupils, who pursue the same course of study, in the prospective hope of advancement. As JOHN M. THOMAS, M. D., Professor of Materia Medicated, and studies of a higher grade are assigned to them. The soon as prepared to enter the next department, they are promoand Therapeutics. JOHN FREDERICK MAY, M. D., Professor of Anatomy and Physiology; late Professor of Surgery in the University of Maryland. The lectures will be delivered in the large and commodious building situated at the corner of 43 street and Louisiana avenue, nearly equidistant from the Capitol and the President's House. In the arrangements of this building, particular reference has been had to the study of Practical Anatomy, a branch which the student will enjoy peculiar facilities for cultivating, both on account of the abundance of materiel which he will be able at all times to command, and the accommodation of the rooms provided for the purpose. In order to exemplify the treatment of the diseases lectured on by the Professors of the Practice of Medicine and of Surgery, a Dispensary will be attached to the College building, from which patients will be brought before the class, and thus the student will enjoy the combined advantages of oral and practical teaching. The Professor of Surgery will not only show all the operations upon the recent subject, but will afford the student an opportunity of repeating the more important ones with his own hand. He will have at his command, for the purpose of demonstrating the operations, complete sets of the most approved instruments, recently imported from France. The Professor of Chemistry has a valuable and complete Chemical and Philosophical Apparatus, which was carefully selected in Europe, and which will afford him every facility of demonstrating, by experiment, the truths of his department. The Professor of Obstetrics will illustrate his lectures by obstetrical apparatus, and an ample collection of preparations and drawings. As there are many young men of talent and worth in different parts of our country, who, from restricted circumstances, are unable to avail themselves of the benefits of public lectures, the Professors have resolved to admit, gratuitously, two such students from each of the States, and one from each of the Territories. In order, however, to guard against individuals whose education and character do not qualify them to become useful members of the profession, the selection is placed in the hands of the Senators and Delegates of Congress, each of whom has the right to select one student from his respective State or Territory, and whose certificate of selection will be a passport to all the lectures, by paying only on entering the school the usual Matriculating fee of five dollars. The whole expense for a full Course of Lectures by all the Professors is $70. Dissecting Ticket $10; optional with the student. utility of such an arrangement has been tested by four years' experience, and every succeeding has manifested the same happy results in the zeal and advancement of the pupils; thus the obviated, and the anxious solicitude of the Principal set at rest. inconveniences of a crowded and promiscuous School have been In order to render this Seminary such as was needed, there has been no trouble or expense spared to obtain the services of well qualified teachers; aware, as Mr. Persico is, that public confidence can be inspired, and public patronage meted out to him only in proportion to the usefulness of his Seminary. trusted to Mr. and Mrs. Persico, are made objects of their special The morals, health, comfort, and improvement of those indent teachers, to enforce every measure which may tend to the attention, and no pains are spared, either by them or the resihappiness of the young Ladies. knowledged, the Principal need hardly recommend to parents The importance of early good habits being universally acand guardians to intrust their children to Seminaries of a high character, and not to fall into the common error of considering a child too young for that school which offers the greatest advan lages. Rev. A. Empie, D.D.; Rev. A. D. Pollock; Rev. Peyton Har rison; Judge R. Stanard; Joseph Marx, Esq.; William Shep hard, Esq.; Chapman Johnson, Esq.; B. W. Leigh, Esq.; James Lyons, Esq; William H. Roane, Esq.; Maj. Ed. Christian; Professor Rogers, University of Virginia; Professor Millington, William and Mary College: Thomas Ritchie, Editor of the Enquirer; John S. Gallaher, Editor of the Whig; Capt Thomas Nelson. September 1st, 1839. |