is one of the strongest of these chords, which we would never willingly jar; but the 'things in books' clothing,' of which there are so many extant, demand the Persian's 'exterminating hoe of criticism;' and hence our notice of the volume under re-consideration. We repeat, we cannot reverse our decision. It was deliberately formed, and we abide by it. If, as is averred, with great stress upon the fact, (while the complainants had 'great pride in our eminent monthly,') we commended a little volume for children, from the pen of Mr. AUSTIN, it does not necessarily follow that we should continue to praise the author, when he writes for men and women as if they were but children, and in a style only befitting a school-boy. A sophomore would be ashamed of the tedious tautology, the pompous verbosity, the useless arguments, and the unnecessary proofs, with which this 'Voice' is replete. All the Dictionary definitions of many of the words employed would seem to have been chosen, to swell out a plethoric sentence; while the labored truisms continually remind us of the 'Incontrovertible Facts' of a waggish poet :

'Boston is n't in Bengal,

Flannel drawers are n't made of tripe;
Lobsters wear no specs at all,

And cows do n't smoke the German pipe!"

That which follows, involving at the outset a plagiarism, which even Mr. AUSTIN'S dilution could not conceal, is a fair exposition of our author's style. After remarking, with his usual 'lengthy' tautology, that woman lavishes upon the man whom she especially 'approbates' 'all the rich, undivided treasures of her affection; she gives him the full tide of her love, without exception or condition; she embarks without reservation,' etc., etc., he proceeds:

"The love of woman, if possible, increases and strengthens after the consummation of the marriage vows. Let it once become firmly fixed on him whom she has taken for her companion, and it will never cease; it becomes a part of her own nature. No change of circumstances, or reverses of fortune, can deaden it. As the ivy, in its living greenness, still continues to grasp the trunk of the prostrate oak, which once bore it aloft in the heavens, so does woman's love draw its twining folds still closer around the object of its regard, when overwhelmed by deep misfortune and wretchedness!'

Such affection as this is not to be lightly regarded. The husband has his part to per form. When the selection has once been made, when the union is consummated, and the twain made one, all searching after imperfections should entirely and for ever cease.' 'The more the husband and wife value each other, the greater must be the enjoyments they experience in each other's society! Let the husband 'cultivate within his heart a spirit of constant, unchanging, unfailing love, and then Contentment, balmy Contentment, will hum her soothing lullaby! All his designs, plans, amusements and plea sures, should have his home for their converging point. As the ever-living stars of heaven continually circle the glowing sun in their ceaseless flight, so should the husband cause his every thought, wish, anticipation, to revolve with undeviating fidelity, around his home,' etc.

Mr. AUSTIN's didactics upon numerous themes which he manages to make collateral, are kindred with the foregoing. He tells us, in close connection, that 'to obtain the commendation of the upright and reputable,' to be 'approbated, respected, and honored, in the community where we reside, is both a natural and commendable desire;' and that the only way to gain this commendation, is to 'establish a good name, a virtuous reputation.' He adds, also, that 'the influence of a good reputation in business transactions is of immense value;' that he who pursues 'a fair, honest, and upright course of dealing' is 'a wise man indeed;' and that the wisdom of Solomon's well-known declaration has not 'deteriorated with the lapse of ages.' Having exhausted the affirmative with such novel remarks as these, our Sir FORCIBLE FEEBLE takes up the negative, and declares that a man cannot pursue an opposite course, 'without being detected by those who deal with him; and when once his customers learn that they have been systematically imposed upon and defrauded, their dealings with him immediately cease! Whatever business prosperity he may have had, is at an end; he is shunned as one not to be

trusted, and dishonesty is branded upon his character,' etc. Again, in relation to the building of a dwelling, we have a manifestation on the part of our author, of the same high estimate of his reader's discernment and common sense: 'In erecting a residence, avoid placing it in a low, damp location, or in a narrow street or lane, where the light of the sun, or the salubrious air of the heavens, can scarcely penetrate. A constant or frequent exposure to dampness from wet cellars, or basements, or any other source, is certain destruction to health, and no care nor pains can be too great to avoid it. As far as it is within the bounds of practicability, select for a residence a situation which is elevated, dry, and airy. Providence in this respect, as in many others, has united utility with benefit and pleasure.'

Mr. AUSTIN does not seem to dream that his readers might possibly be acquainted with a few of the most common of his incontrovertible facts; but he must needs eke out his volume with arguments and proofs touching all that he advances. His 'Voice' reminds us of a colloquy which we once overheard between two 'colored gemmen' in a sister city:

'Look o' hea, Sam Johnsing!' said Sambo; 'hearn de news?'

'No, Sambo, I ha' n't; what news?'

'Well, we had a fine nacquisition into our domestic suckle las' night.'

'No! you s'prise me! Well, Sambo, what was de treasure, eh?'

'Dere! I t'ought so! E'yah! - yah!- yah! No 't want! Try ag'in, Sam.' 'Well, den I guess 't was a boy.'

Sambo looked suspiciously at his companion for a moment, as if doubtful of fair play, and replied:

'Oh, go 'way! Somebody's told you!

It strikes us that if Mr. AUSTIN, while spinning out his common-places, and braiding together his desultory scraps, had entertained some faint suspicion of his readers' intelligence; if he had thought, for a moment, that 'somebody had told them,' or they had otherwise learned, the simple truths he was so ambitiously parading, we should have been spared the duty of presenting as 'twattle,' what could not so justly be defined by any other word which we could call to mind.

'TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST.'- We take some pride in the fact, that the KNICKERBOCKER was the first American periodical to place the merits of this remarkable work before our countrymen. Its judgment has been confirmed by a success almost unexampled. Edition after edition of the book has been rapidly exhausted, both here and in England, yet its popularity continues unabated. The Scottish and English press has bestowed the highest praise upon the work; and we perceive that the Lords of the Admiralty have ordered a copy of the volume for every library in the British navy. We are a little curious to know how these facts strike the envious author of a notice of this work in the 'Southern Literary Messenger;' a writer whose name we dare say could be hit to a T., if it were necessary to expose it, in this connection. 'The author of 'Two Years Before the Mast,' he said, 'has just been admitted to practice at the bar. This circumstance seems to us to account for the appearance of the book. It contains little that is novel or striking, except certain details relative to 'hide-curing,' 'slipping for south-easters,' 'owls' and 'Coati' on the coast of California. If there is a single remarkable feature in this picture of sea-life, it consists in the grotesque associations arising from the fact that the author was transferred from Cambridge college to the forecastle of a merchantman.' Our sapient critic then went on to speak of the author's descriptions of the toils, hardships, and amusements of a sailor, as 'trite,' and added, that the 'young attorney's narrative was an expedient to obtain a portion of the legal business

which sailors bring to the Boston bar.' Such a critique could only proceed from a mean and envious spirit, whose appropriate punishment is the abounding popularity of our author, who, as we learn, has proved himself not less the disinterested friend of seamen on shore than on the ocean, and whose legal success is only equalled by his eminent literary career.

DEATH'S TEACHINGS. We have been struck, in perusing a Discourse delivered by Rev. ORVILLE DEWEY, On the Sabbath after the death of our late lamented PRESIDENT, with the forcible and felicitous manner in which he has treated a theme necessarily trite, and with the simple but vivid pictures which he paints to the eye and mind of the reader; limnings which so enforce the great and solemn truths the speaker would inculcate, that no true heart can read, as none could hear them, without fruitful emotion. We subjoin one or two extracts:

'I look upon this world as a school for the training of beings for another life; and I look upon this school as simply temporary. Death does not break it up, but only ends it. Thus we see schools all over the land, and some are entering and others are leaving them at every moment. So do I look upon this world, and upon all the worlds around us, as schools. The dismission from this school, the world, to another, is surely a solemn event: I have no design to represent it otherwise. How often is this felt, in rising from one earthly school to another! Then an examination is to be sustained, which passes judgment upon the whole previous course. To many a young man what a serious time is this! How earnestly and anxiously does he labor to prepare himself! And if he has idled away the precious years of study, how difficult, if not impossible, does he find it, at last, to repair the error! How deeply does he feel that his preparation should have engaged his whole previous time! Thus is death a teacher that fills the world with its presence. It penetrates through the whole of life-penetrates every relation of life. It brings the sense of obligation to a point from which there is no escape-brings the great moral conflict of life to a solemn issue.'

We remember, among the first rhythmical fragments of boyish acquisition, a little poem, commencing: 'Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proud?' - and especially these two stanzas, which Mr. DEWEY may almost be said to have illustrated, in the admirable extract which succeeds, although they may doubtless here meet his eye for the first time:

'We are the same things that our fathers have been-
We see the same sights that our fathers have seen;
Wo drink the same stream, and we feel the same sun,
And we run the same course that our fathers have run.

The thoughts we are thinking on, they too would think,
From the death we are shrinking from, they too would shrink;
To the life we are clinging to, they too would cling;
But it sped from the earth like a bird on the wing!"

Alluding to the solemn tones with which Death invests the voice of the past, and the lessons which he conveys, our orator remarks:

'How impressive, how monitory-I had almost said, how irresistible, is this teaching! Cast back your thoughts to the period of a century ago, and who then filled the spheres of life which we at this moment occupy? The representatives of each one of us!-in whatsoever pursuits we follow, in whatsoever positions, social or commercial, we now hold. Such as we are, they were. They were fathers, they were mothers, they were children, they were brothers and sisters, they were friends and associates; but the places that knew them well, know them no more; the familiar voices that called to them, and they answered, are silent; they thought only to live-they thought not to die: life was their reality, and they lost it; death was their dream, and they found it: all the days that they lived were thirty, forty, fifty, or eighty, of ninety years, and they died.' There was the man of wealth, with his plans and projects, his anxieties and toils, his ships and merchandise, his houses and lots many; he gathered and he builded; he builded houses for his children, and portioned them; he had much goods laid up for many years, and he said to his soul, Soul! take thine ease, eat, drink and be merry;' but the day came at last, or the night came, in which it was said, 'This day, this night, thy soul shall be required of thee! There was the man of fashion and pleasure; he possessed and he expended, or he was lavish of that which was not his own; he was anxious for notice, and intrigued for success; he put on gay habiliments, and hurried to the feast and the dance; the theatre knew him; the revel saw him; the giddy whirl of pleasure heard his footsteps: but what-lo! what is this! A marble silence-a coffin-a pall! He stirs not beneath its awful fold; he hears not the voice of his gay companion, that says, 'Poor fellow! he is gone! There was the man of professional ambition; he studied, and gained stores of learning; he studied arguments, and expounded them; he wrote books, and published them; he got fame, and men said that he was a great man.' Where are his sayings and his doings now his cases and his tenures? his new theorems, his controversies, his

speeches? Perhaps you will find them among mouldering pamphlets in the library of some Historical Society. Perhaps they linger yet in the breath of men's speech as a by-gone fame. It was my fortune to witness the awful change that passed over such a one, in this very city; one whom a shaft rises to commemorate, by this very way-side, in yonder grave-yard. One week I saw him in all the splendor of his eloquence; the next week, as I walked, I saw a funeral procession!—and there were borne the remains of one who was called the Cicero of his order! So passes away this world, and we pass away with it. Such as we are, those, who have gone but a little before us, were. And such as they are, we soon shall be. Nothing can stay our course. No hoard of gold, nor crown of honor, nor crowd of cares, nor pressure of engagements, nor thronging visions of coming prosperity, nor momentous crises of affairs, can ward off the inevitable hour.'

JUDGE CONRAD'S NEW TRAGEDY OF 'AYLMERE.' It was our good fortune to be present at the Park Theatre, on the first representation of this most beautiful and effective play, from the pen of Hon. ROBERT T. CONBAD, of Philadelphia; and it was our purpose to have transferred some of the enthusiasm which on that night shook the walls of Old Drury, to the hearts of our readers, through the medium of extracts from the tragedy; but accident having deprived us of these, we reserve for our next number an elaborate review of the performance, contenting ourselves in the mean time with the following condensed notice, from the competent pen of Mr. BRYANT :

The production of a new tragedy by Mr. FORREST, has been the great event in the theatrical history of the day. Aylmere' was performed last evening for the first time, at the Park Theatre; and, if the continued and enthusiastic bursts of applause with which it was received by a numerous auditory, be any proof of merit, both the author and actor may gratulate themselves on the prospect of complete success. We hazard nothing in predicting that the tragedy is destined to a very wide and lasting popularity. The drama is founded on incidents in the life of the individual familiarly known to the readers of English, history as Jack Cade, the leader of the famous Kentish rebellion. It opens with the arrival, at the cottage of the widow Cade, of an unknown stranger, with his wife and child, from Italy. The accounts which are given him of the sufferings of the yeomanry and mechanics, and of their purpose to rise against their oppressors, deeply enlist his feelings in their cause. He joins the rebels and becomes an object of hatred to Lord Say, on whose estate the widow Cade lives. By his address and indomitable energy he fans the flame of insubordination already burning in the breast of the peasants, and is made their leader. Meanwhile, the but of the widow Cade is burned over her head by the insolent and drunken minions of Say; the widow miserably perishes in the ashes; the wife of Alymere is grossly insulted, and he himself, hunted like a wild beast, is driven with his family to take refuge in the caves of the forest. There, his child dies for the want of food; and both he and his wife are seized by the soldiers of the lord, she to be dragged away to a dungeon, but he, after a desperate struggle, to make his escape and assume the lead of the popular forces. In the subsequent scenes, the wife is crazed in consequence of a murder she is compelled to commit in defence of her honor; the peasants are led to London, where after a general engagement with the troops of the government, they prove victorious; and a charter granting all their demands is won from the King by Aylmere, who discovers himself to be the son of widow Cade, as he dies under a wound inflicted in a desperate struggle with Lord Say.

It is impossible, in so mere a skeleton of the play, to remark upon the striking and touching incidents in which it abounds. From beginning to end, it is full of interest, the story proceeds uninterruptedly without flagging, the dialogue is spirited, and the language generally beautiful and poetic. The character of the chief person is finely adapted to the noble physical and intellectual qualities of the actor; and the sentiments of burning passion, of indignant patriotism, of insulted pride, of bitter scorn, of frenzied revenge, of melting tenderness, to which the successive events give rise, as they are uttered by the rich and manly voice, and expressed by the flexible and clas➜ sic features of Mr. FORREST, fill the spectators with au agony of varied emotions. It is a rare treat indeed, to hear the liberal and spirit-stirring sentiments of this play, as they are given in the unsurpassed declamation of Mr. FORREST.'

THE NATIONAL ACADEMY OF DESIGN. We have liberally pencilled our catalogue of the pictures, etc., of the National Academy; but owing to unavoidable absence from town, and other sufficient causes, we have been unable to write out our notes. As the exhibition will be open for several weeks, we shall still take timely occasion to do justice to the collection, to which, in the mean time, we invite the attention of our readers. They will find in the exhibition, among many pictures of decided attraction, several efforts of artists who have been warmly commended, from time to time, in the KNICKERBOCKER, and whose improvement and continued success it is no small gratification to remark. We know of no place where an hour or two may be passed more delightfully than at the National Academy.

'RIGHTS AND CONDITION OF WOMEN.' The last Edinburgh Review has a paper thus entitled, which we mention for the purpose of calling to it the attention of our lady readers, whom we look to see 'engaged for the defendants.' The reviewer contends, in opposition to Plato, Voltaire, Dugald Stewart, and others, that great differences exist between the moral and intellectual characteristics of the two sexes. Of these differences, the following are cited, with the proviso, that there may be exceptions, but that the majority of cases will sustain the critic:

'Women have less of active, and more of passive courage than men. They have more excitability of nerve; and with it, all those qualities which such excitability tends to produce. They are more enthusiastic-their sympathy is more lively-they have a nicer perception of minute circumstances. Whether, as stated by Professor Stewart, they have greater quickness and facility of association, may, we think, be reasonably doubted. They are certainly not superior to man in those powers of association which produce wit, though they often possess them in an eminent degree. They are inferior in the power of close and logical reasoning. They are less dispassionate-less able to place their feelings in subjection to their judgment, and to bring themselves to a conclusion which is at variance with their prepossessions. They have less power of combination and of generalization. They are less capable of steady and concentrated attention- and though their patience is equal, if not greater, their perseverance is less.'

The reviewer farther inquires: 'Where do we find women, in the calm pursuits of literature and taste, so well adapted to their habits, 'whom even partiality could place in that elevated class to which belong our Shakspeare, Spenser, Milton, Dryden, Byron?' Great poetical excellence, he adds, woman certainly has displayed, but not of the highest class; and so too of the arts of painting and music, in the cultivation of which the preponderance, he contends, will be found on the female side. We shall pursue this subject, with the pros and cons, in a subsequent number; for we foresee that the belle sex are not going to sit contentedly down under the imputation of intellectual inferiority to the 'lords of creation,' whatever complacent reviewers may say to the contrary.

With our next number will commence the EIGH

GOSSIP WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. TEENTH VOLUME of the KNICKEREOCKER! It was our intention to have spoken of the unwontedly rich stores of various matter which we have on file for the new volume, and to say a word or two concerning certain pictorial embellishments which we have in reserve for our readers. But in closing one of the best volumes of our Magazine, hitherto, and that THE SEVENTEENTH, we feel it to be quite unnecessary to say more, than that our best exertions shall not be wanting to make its successor in all things its peer. The KNICKERBOCKER will be promptly published on the first of each month, and early and carefully despatched to its subscribers throughout the United States and the Canadas.・・・ We cannot resist the desire to say, that if our readers do not recognize in the Quod Correspondence' the style of one of the most chaste and polished writers of the day, we shall consider their judgment as naught; nor can we suffer the Country Doctor' to enter upon a new volume, without asking the especial attention of our friends to the vivid sketch in the present issue, which the writer has rarely exceeded... 'The Latterlights and their Progeny,' it is proper to say, is almost a literal transcript of scenes in the recent Transcendental Convention at Boston. A worthy friend of ours, who dropped in for a few moments, informs us that it was a most grotesque assemblage; including all sorts of men, and several women; some engaged in knitting, others in sewing, and one feeble sister with a 'blessed big jug of chamomile tea' by her side! ORPHIC ALCOTT, the soothsayer, was also preWe alluded recently to a plagiarism attempted to be practised upon us by one of our correspondents in a western village. We have been assured, and now believe, that we had not the real culprit in view. It may be satisfactory however for him to be aware that we know him well now. Among the papers on file for immediate insertion, and under consideration, including several from our most favored contributors, are: 'Dust of Travel;' 'A Ball at the Tuilleries;' 'Popular Poetry of Modern Greece;' 'The Stokeville Papers;' 'Night;' 'A Dead Language;' 'Life;' etc., etc.

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