and humbly bring it to the hive for the use of their master, the public; and if one of them uses his sting, it is sure to be the death of him. Or if he ventures to oppose a popular error, or honestly to maintain what he believes to be true, how the others pounce upon him, buzz about him, and torment him to the extent of their puny power! Our author spurns this general subordination, and insists, not only on singing her song in her own way, but also on saying what she pleases in her song. We have looked with some curiosity to see her sin visited upon her with the heaviest punishment which the American press can inflict; but she has hitherto escaped detection, it would seem. It is true, a very commendable change in this particular is taking place among us; nor do we (being still young) despair of seeing the day when thought shall be as free in democratic America as in England. Never till then shall we have any thing which can rightly be called a national literature. The crowning excellence of the book is its unwavering devotion to the cause of progress, manifested without parade, yet manly, womanly, and commanding respect even from those who differ from her. Since Margaret Fuller, no country woman of ours has so well supported the cause of the brave republicans of Europe. Yet American women have not been cold in their sympathy for Hungarian and Italian liberty. What friend of humanity can ever forget the true-hearted woman who so triumphantly vindicated the cause of Hungary and her hero against the attacks of suspicious and bigoted American critics? It is with Italy and the Italians that these poems have to do. Warm love for that fair land, endeared to her by so many memories, impels her to cry out against its oppressors with almost an exile's vehemence. So, too, when she has occasion to speak of the stirring questions which agitate the social and political and theological life of our countrymen - of the New-Englanders especially-she shows a tender, womanly enthusiasm for the cause of justice and mankind. With no little vigor of intellect and comprehensiveness of thought, she aims shrewd blows at what she takes for the fortress of wrong. This will make her book especially dear to those whose side she espouses, while it may, perhaps, offend their antagonists. But one thing is certain: it gives an air of reality and conviction to all she says, which cannot fail to impress the reader. Of the lesser beauties of the book one could say much. There is a vein of playful satire in some parts, and of trenchant sarcasm in others, both of them admirable. For the first, we may mention, Mind versus Mill-stream;' for the other, Whitsunday in the Church;' and 'A Pic-nic among the ruins of Ostia.' Her descriptions are often marvellously beautiful, as that, for instance, in which she tells of her first hearkening to the nightingale, under Italian skies, and amid the splendors of Italian scenery: Astonished, penetrate, too past myself Gave passage to one cry: GoD! what is that? Let him but be commemorate with this hour The first in which thou heard'st our nightingale.'' Of pure description, however, there is very little. Every thing, as has been said, is touched and colored by its relation to herself. Thus, these lovely verses lead the way to a lament for an absent friend: 'THE Sweet moon rules the east to-night, To show the sun she too can shine; From his forsaken cell of night She builds herself a jeweled shrine. 'From mine lone window forth I look Where the grim head-lands point to sea, Countless felicities of expression are there in the volume, as full of meaning and of music as those single-line beauties of Tennyson which every one notices. As these : 'EARTH'S martyrs, rapturous, seek the ways he trod, 'Oft I think thy hands caress me With each object that they yield.' "The hollow chorus of the cough Followed each word she strove to speak.' 'Like child divine to mortal maid, 'Yet when I see him at the helm 'I wandered, while the flow of song 'The pilgrim tries a quicker pace, And hugs remorse, and patters prayers.' Neither are these the results of labor and a striving for effect, but they have an appearance of ease, as if said without premeditation. The strength of religious feeling shown in many of the poems is not their least attraction. Among the many we notice especially 'Santa Susanna,'' The Dead Christ,' and the concluding piece. In fact, the whole book is marked by a fervid religious character, as the work of one to whom the ideas of GOD and Duty are familiar and clear. It remains to speak of the faults of the book - - by no means a faultless one. There is too little variety in this large collection; too frequent reference to certain favorite topics. This is true of the matter, and the same may be said of the manner. The verse sometimes becomes monotonous and wearies the reader. Then there is some meddling with metres which are evidently unmanageable; such as the pitiable hexametre of 'Wherefore.' And although the language is, for the most párt, pure and vigorous English, there are a few instances of a remarkable use of words. Perhaps 'Socdologer' (page 129) may be allowed in consideration of the character of the poem, but it is a sad stumblingblock to young ladies and others. There is a touch of affectation, too, in some of the titles. But in comparison with the many beauties of the book, its faults seem trivial. We hail with joy its appearance, not only as introducing us to a poet of power and originality, but because it is a work of which we may be proud as Americans. It owes its birth to influences which are wholly American; it faithfully adheres to the American idea; nor can it be mistaken for the work of any but a true American woman. Our country might well afford to be represented abroad by such as she has shown herself to be. And who is she? The book is published anonymously, but the author is understood to be the wife of an honored citizen of Massachusetts, famous for his early heroism in the cause of Greece, and for his more recent and more arduous labors in behalf of the blind and the unfortunate of every class. He has won for himself a name nobler than that of the warrior or the politician: she, too, may now claim her share of fame, and well maintain the honor of the name which she bears by marriage. ON the day appointed, I presented myself in my new parish. My personal effects were contained in two trunks, one of which held my books, the other an equal number of shirts and sermons. I certainly was not a rich parson; nor was there the slightest possible prospect of my becoming so. I was the owner, however, of what riches cannot buy a happy heart. My people were good-natured and well-intentioned. They met me with an honest shake of the hand, and with a cordial invitation to their tables and to their hearth-stones. They were not enough in the world to be very worldly; nor of sufficient assumption to be very critical. They were good neighbors, with this single exception: that they would feel slighted, if I did not accept their invitations to tea. And then they had such queer things for tea! I remember to have seen once, on one table, for four guests, a huge beef-steak, three stewed chickens, ten fried sausages, a dish of roasted potatoes, three kinds of cake, four kinds of preserves, and five kinds of pickles! An early tea of this sort, after a late dinner, was something of an obstacle. Nothing in my parochial work did I dread as much as these tea-necessities. But I got used to them in time, and managed to perform my expected duty at the teatable by abstaining from my dinner upon tea-days. I must add, also, that my people were good parishioners, with this single exception that they would adhere to the notion - which notion settled finally into a belief— that, in the matter of temporalities, I was provided for in the same way as was Elijah - through the agency of ravens. At first, I thought that this was an innocent theological fancy on their part; but time undeceived me. I only remained with them till I experienced that the ravens were the fancy. Nor did they blame me for going; but rather blamed the ravens for not coming. I left them still in a state of expectation that the ravens would finally come. Some things that happened while I remained in that parish, I will narrate. And FIRSTLY, (as some preachers say,) was my visit to |