NATIONAL ACADEMY OF DESIGN. WE resume and conclude our remarks upon the exhibition of the National Academy of Design; but not without being conscious that there are very many meritorious works of art which we have left unnoticed. To some of these we may hereafter incidentally refer. We are well pleased to learn that the exhibition has been unusually well attended; and we trust that while it shall remain open, not only our citizens generally, but strangers from other cities and the country, will embrace the opportunity to visit it. There is no place in the metropolis where an hour or two may be spent so agreeably.

KNEELAND, H.- Mr. KNEELAND has four busts in the exhibition. One, the head of a distinguished citizen, is first among the minutely-faithful likenesses which our artist has produced. Another, of a young lady, is graceful, pleasing, and expressive, and is moreover an exact counterpart of the original. Mr. KNEELAND is winning his way, and in the right way too, to deserved distinction in his line of art.

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T. H. MATTESON. - No. 251: Whirling the Plate.' This is a bold attempt for an artist so little known; but nothing venture nothing win' is a maxim we like to see acted upon by a young man. In the design and composition he has succeeded well, and shows that he has the right material in him, if he will only be patient in bringing it out. The story too, is well told; but the picture lacks in color and finish; the one showing his inexperience and the other his impatience. A hand or foot in a cabinet-picture requires not only as much but more attention to every little reflection and minute marking, than in a picture of lifesize. If he will follow our advice, he will not only surprise the public but himself, in some of his future works.

MOONEY, N. A.-The best of this artist's portraits is No. 67, which is admirably drawn, a capital likeness, and generally agreeable in effect. There is visible, to be sure, a little dryness and chalkiness of manner; but for fidelity of likeness, Mr. MOONEY is seldom surpassed. S. A. MOUNT, N. A. - Mr. MOUNT exhibits but one painting, No. 92. It is a good portrait; natural and animated, and forcible in expression, and does credit to the artist.

W. S. MOUNT, N. A.- No. 94: Portrait of Rev. Dr. SEABURY.' This is not Mr. MOUNT'S department, nor the one in which we like most to see him exercise his talent. It is well drawn, as is every thing from his hand, is a good likeness, and is only deficient in color and effect. There is, it strikes us, too much of the bricky red in the shadows, and opacity in the lights, to be agreeable to the general eye. No. 274, Portrait of B. STRONG, Esq.,' miniature size, is far more pleasing, both in color and effect; and it satisfies us that if Mr. MOUNT wishes to take up portraiture, he will succeed better in pictures of this size. No. 315 is a repetition of the same subject in the REED gallery, which we regret to see, because we know that Mr. MOUNT does not lack original subjects on which to exercise his ability; and borrowing from one's earlier works without improving upon them, looks as if an artist had exhausted his ideas.

W. PAGE, N. A. - Mr. PAGE exhibits but one picture, and we know not whether to call it a drawing or a painting. It looks most like the former; and as such, is beautifully elaborate and true. It has great rotundity, with a skilful concealment of the means by which it is produced; and in this respect Mr. PAGE generally excels.

N. A. POWELL, A.- No. 135: Portrait;' an agreeable little picture, containing all the usual arrangement of color observable in pictures which are intended principally to gratify the eye.

T. P. ROSSITER, A.- No. 184: Vestal Virgin.' A more chaste and simple picture than we have hitherto seen from this young artist; perhaps not all that we should expect from a four years' residence and study in Europe.

P. F. ROTHERMEL. - No. 81: 'DE SOTO Discovering the Mississippi;' a large and attractive picture; pleasing in color and general effect, bold in execution, and fertile in imagination; but not entirely satisfactory in expressing the subject. We are happy to perceive that

it has been purchased by the American Art Union; and we think it will be a valuable accession to their collection.

A. S. SCHOFF.No. 362: another line-engraving by a young artist, who, like Mr. JONES, bids fair to become very prominent in this department of the art.

J. H. SHEGOGUE, N. A.-No. 153: Senora DE GONI; a clever picture executed with fidelity to the original. The composition is pleasing, the neck particularly well painted, and the instrument and accessories executed with more than usual care. No. 260, portraits of three children,' is an agreeable picture, possessing great sweetness of color and effect, and much of the happy manner of Mr. SULLY. No. 167, 'Gift from Brazil,' another clever picture, of a more fanciful character.

H. C. SHUMWAY, N. A.-Miniature of a Gentlemen;' an excellent likeness, but too red in color. We regret that Mr. SHUMWAY has not sent in more specimens of his talents, as he ranks high among our miniatures painters.

F. R. SPENCER, A., exhibits several good portraits, generally pleasing in color, and faithful likenesses.

THOMAS SULLY, H.-No. 44: The Sisters:' good in composition, attractive in color, and possessing all the characteristics of this artist's style.

J. A. TALBOT, A. - No. 56: a landscape of considerable size and merit. The middleground and distance are well drawn and colored, but the fore-ground lacks force and inAs a whole, however, it is a very meritorious work. We are glad to perceive that this also will be distributed among the subscribers of the American Art Union.

terest.

C. G. THOMPSON. -No. 246: Portrait of a Lady:' one of his best productions. The general color is good, and the details carefully executed. Mr. THOMPSON has several other portraits of much merit in the collection.

T. THOMPSON.-Several marine views, evincing great knowledge in this particular department. There is no pretension to effect, or composition, or color; but there are truth and fidelity to nature, which render them particularly worthy of notice.

W. T. VAN ZANDT.- No. 12, the First Sorrow,' is an effort of great merit, by an artist whose name we have not noticed before in the Academy.

S. L. WALDO, a veteran portrait-painter, exhibits for the first time in many years in the National Academy of Design. His works as usual show striking likenesses and great facility of execution.

S. B. WAUGH.No. 229: Brigand delivering up his arms at Sonino.' An excellent composition, forcibly and boldly painted; with great depth of color and brilliancy of effect. A brigand, weary of his predatory life, leaves the mountain fastnesses to surrender up his arms to the church, under whose protection he seeks safety and pardon. A number of priests assemble at the door of the convent to receive the penitent, who with his family and worldly goods around him kneels to receive benediction. To those who have lived any time in Italy, this is doubtless a subject of not unusual occurrence; and it is one of those pictures which conveys a moral lesson, which we shall always hail with delight, believing that painting has a higher aim than merely to please the eye. Mr. WAUGH has several portraits in the Academy, which are pleasing in color and effect.

C. E. WEIR.- No. 174: Compositor Setting Type;' a faithful representation of a subject which, under ordinary execution, would perhaps be devoid of general interest; but it is extraordinarily painted, being finished with a fidelity and truth equal to Daguerreotype. As a piece of still-life, it is surpassingly fine and beautiful, although devoid of imagination. The portraits of this gentleman are by no means equal to this picture, either in truth or carefulness of execution.

J. WHITEHORNE, N. A., has three portraits, in his usual style: fidelity of resemblance we presume is their greatest recommendation; yet they are by no means as attractive as his pictures of last year.

T. WIGHTMAN.- No. 145: A Fruit Piece;' painted with unusual care and truth to the objects represented, which is the highest merit in pictures of this class.

W. W. WOTHERSPOON.- No. 148: View of North-East Lake.' A beautiful little picture. The sky, middle-ground and distance are expressed with a truth and delicacy worthy of an older artist.

The collection this year is we believe greater than at any former period; but the additional number arises out of the great influx of portraits, which we are aware are sent more to please the sitters or their friends than the artists themselves, and consequently not expected to be noticed in a cursory review like the present.

THE EDITORSHIP OF A MONTHLY MAGAZINE.-Let those of our readers who may at any time have fancied, in looking over our pages, that the task of editing a monthly publication like the KNICKERBOCKER could not after all be so very difficult a matter, peruse the following just and truthful remarks of our friend and contemporary, the editor of The Columbian.' The close of the passage which we quote may perhaps remind the reader of these words in a 'gossip'-ing subsection of our own, in one of our numbers several months since: Often have we sat, with a dubious' paper in hand, hesitating for an hour whether to 'print or burn;' thinking of the fervent wishes of the writer, and the labor he had bestowed upon his production. Every part, every period, had been considered and re-considered, with unremitting anxiety. He had revised, corrected, expunged, again produced and again erased, with endless iteration. Points and commas themselves perhaps had been settled with repeated and jealous solicitude. All this may be, and yet one's article be indifferent, or unsuited to our pages.' But hear our worthy contemporary: The life of a daily newspaper-editor is beatitude, compared with that of the unhappy wight chained to the oar of a magazine. Truly was it said by MARRYAT, after a year's trial, 'He who enlists in the service of a monthly periodical makes himself a slave to a hard master.' The toil that appears to the reader is but an infinitesimal fraction of that which he must undergo; and the toil is light, compared with the discomfort and the annoyance. Unlike that on a newspaper, the work on a magazine is never done, finished, brought to an end. The journalist must work hard, to be sure, in his hours of labor; and he knows, when the work of one day is finished, that another day is before him, in which the same routine of work is to be gone over again. But there is such a thing as an end to his work, once every twentyfour hours; when his forms have gone to press he has done with them, at least for a time. But the unhappy wight of the magazine can lay no such flattering unction to his soul. The wheel to which he is bound is perpetually rolling. Every day and all day there is something for him to do or be thinking of doing. While the number for the next month is in hand there is a voice ever saying unto him, Write;' or if the command is not to write, it is to read proof, look after the printers, provide pieces of just such a length to fill up just such a fraction of a page as happens to need filling, and a legion of other requirements, many of them trifling enough in themselves, but in the aggregate overwhelming; and the moment that number is got out of his way he must be going through the same course for the next. But this is only a tithe of the duties belonging to his responsible government; all this time acres of manuscript, more or less, are waiting his perusal a great deal more patiently than the writers, every one of these last expecting his or her particular contribution to be attended to immediately, and not a few of them writing letters or notes of inquiry which come to the soul of the recipient like thorns into the flesh. If he undertakes to answer all by individual responses through the post-office, in that alone he has work enough cut out for a great deal more than every moment of his possible leisure, supposing leisure to be one of the possibilities of his condition, which it is not; if he answers only by a general Notice to Correspondents,' some are displeased, others do not see his notices, and at the very best he may think himself well off if two or three reminders' do not reach him, more or less curt and peremptory in tone, before the number containing the notice is pub

lished and distributed. Then there is the difficult task of deciding upon the acceptance of proffered manuscripts. For one that delights him by its obvious and striking merit; its freshness and truth of sentiment, its brilliancy of style, its vigor of thought, or polished beauty of expression; there are almost invariably two or three, not decidedly and unequivocally bad, so as to justify him in pitching them headlong into the fire, the dealing with such being rather a relief than otherwise, but so curiously falling short of excellence, just by a shade or two; possessing so many good points, yet lacking the vivida vis, the raciness, the indescribable something by which readers are pleased and the tone of the magazine improved; in a word, so falling just below the standard, that the always unpleasant necessity of rejection is made actually painful by regret which has something in it of a personal nature. And very often, too, he has good reason to believe that the productions thus offered and thus found unsuited to his purposes have been written with other aspirations than those of mere ambition; that trembling hopes have clustered round every page of the manuscript, alternating with fears, beyond which lay despair; that literary success has been dreamed of, thought of, striven for, as a refuge from poverty, as a means of relief from present or approaching destitution. Even in his short career as editor of a magazine, the writer of this article has received many letters revealing, even while they sometimes attempted to hide, the existence of hopes and fears such as he has endeavored to describe; appeals to his sympathy, all the harder to resist because they obviously were not meant as such, but were the almost unconscious expression of feelings that rent the bosom in which they had their lodgment; and when he has found himself compelled to disappoint the hopes, the crushing of which he knew would be like a death-pang to the spirit that entertained them, he has exclaimed in very grief of soul, 'Let him who has a soft place in his heart become an army-surgeon, a butcher or a turnkey, but let him not undertake the painful office of an editor.' Little do the readers imagine, when they perceive and enjoy his success in filling his pages with a brilliant succession of admirable papers, with what labor and regret and trial of the feelings these have been culled from among three or four times the number, many submitted to him with the most touching appeals for a word of cheer and a hand of aid, which he could not give because he knew that an inexorable judgment waited on his ministration; that an inexorable demand for the highest order of merit was ever before him, which he must satisfy or fall to the ground.' Ponder these remarks, reader, of a practised daily journalist, who derives his monthly experience' from the first half volume only of his magazine; and doubt not their truth, when endorsed by one who is now striving to win your approbation in his twenty-fourth volume.

DUELLING. WE would ask the reader's attention to the admirable Tale of New-York,' from the pen of MATTHEW C. FIELD, Esq., in preceding pages. The incidents are founded on fact: the real name of one of the parties has been furnished us by the writer. We have rarely seen a more forcible illustration of the shameless manner in which duels are often forced upon parties who have themselves no real'cause of quarrel.' Public attention, abroad as well as at home, has become thoroughly aroused to the evil and folly of what has so long been miscalled the code of honor.' In England, duelling has been abolished by act of parliament; and in the British army and navy it is now a criminal offence, with severe and disgraceful penalties, to be concerned either as principal or 'friend' in a duel; and any one who treats disdainfully, or refuses to associate with, a fellow-officer, who abides by the new law, and submits to a verdict of the court of appeal,' which has taken the place of the old and barbarous mode of settling personal difficulties in 'the last resort,' is to be held as an offender against the late act, and to be punished accordingly. We shall hear no more of 'honorable' murder in England. Public opinion is bearing strongly upon the practice generally in this country, and penal enactments in

many States prohibit it. Ridicule and burlesque also exercise no small influence against the custom. That was an effective example in this kind, of the gentleman in one of our northern counties, who when challenged by some dissolute HOTSPUR for a fancied or pretended slight, chose broad-swords for his weapons, and opposite sides of the St. Lawrence as the position of the combatants. On being remonstrated with, he changed the swords for pistols; the parties to stand back to back on the top of a sharp conical hill in the neighborhood, each to march down eight paces, and then at the word of command to turn and fire! You're a coward, Sir!' said the challenger, when he found that his antagonist adhered immoveably to these last terms of combat. Very well,' said the other; 'you knew I was, or you would n't have challenged me!'

GOSSIP WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.—WE give below an interesting extract from the always pleasant and instructive personal correspondence of an esteemed friend and contributor, resident now and for many years, in an official capacity, at the Turkish capital. The articles.referred to by our correspondent appear, one in the last and the other in the present number of the KNICKERBOCKER; and both have the place of honor.' The first has excited much attention, and has been widely copied throughout the United States; the second, which opens the present number, is replete with a kindred oriental interest, and will prove equally attractive to American readers. Among the useful ornaments of our sanctum is a very large and comprehensive painting of Constantinople and its environs. The view is taken from Scutari, and embraces every object of interest, drawn and colored from nature, on both sides of the Bosphorus, from the opposing castles of Europe and Asia, down to Kudi-Keui, on the Sea of Marmora. It is a source of much enjoyment to us, whenever we receive a communication or private letter from our friend, to trace upon this picture any route which he may mention, or survey any locale which he may describe. We have looked down with him from the eminences of Scutari upon SeraglioPoint, the Seraglio, and the Harem, and upon the vast metropolis, with its domes and minarets, that rises beyond it; we have traversed, with unsated eyes, the road from Scutari to Kandili, in its entire length; and we have walked down the long hill from the new quarter of Scutari to the Turkish cemetery, with its groves of melancholy cypresses, that stretch their dark line down even to the ancient Calcedone, washed by the golden flood;' and yet we have never been out of our apartment to accomplish a matter so desirable. Pleasant, is n't it? But we are keeping the reader from our correspondent's letter: 'I need not tell you,' he writes, under date of April 7, how gratified I am to find my articles worthy of admission to the pages of the first periodical in the United States, and which in Europe bears so high a reputation. The numbers you send me are always read, as well by my friends of the different foreign legations here as by myself, with great interest. I sent you lately an account of the plague in 1837, which I wrote at the time in my journal, and lately on perusal, thought might prove of interest to your readers; particularly as the plague has disappeared entirely from the Levant since the establishment of the quarantine in 1839. It is still however in Egypt, where it seems to have its origin, from the malaria of the Nile and the poverty of the people. The second article is an account of the Meddahs, or Story-Tellers of Constantinople. I purpose, so soon as the weather becomes milder and drier, to send you others of a like nature. I have for some time past been searching for original Eastern tales, in Turkish, Arabic or Persian, with the view of making a volume of Oriental Miscellany, or Curiosities of Eastern Literature.' I have found a number, which I have translated, and purpose sending you a couple for insertion in your periodical. I lately heard of a unique manuscript in the library of a mosk, which I have a man now engaged in copying for me. It is a translation from the Persian into Turkish of an account of an embassy sent by the Shah of Persia to the Fag-foor ee Tchin, or