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Third Edition. Revised, with Illustrations. New-York: A. O. Moore and Co. 12mo. Pp. 405. $1.25. From Wall-Street to Cashmere. A Journal of Five Years in Asia, Africa, and Europe: comprising Visits, during 1851-2-3-4-5-6, to the Danemora Iron Mines, etc., etc. By John B. Ireland. With nearly One Hundred Illustrations from Sketches made on the Spot, by the Author. New-York. S. A. Rollo. 8vo. Pp. 526. $3.50. EDITOR'S TABLE. CONJUGAL LOVE IN THE ABSTRACT:' SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON AND 'MR. STUBBS' OF IOWA.—‘A. C.,' of Davenport, Iowa, that flourishing and beautifullysituated town, is welcome, as he 'always was, and always will be,' to our pages. He has never yet failed to amuse and to entertain our readers, if we are not mistaken in the 'configuration of his hand-of-write.' Greatly fruitful and fertile must be the region round-about' his present place of sojourn. Thence came, from a kind friend, seasons since, those famous PEACHES, to the EDITOR: from the eggsized 'pits' whereof, carefully preserved, and considerately dispensed, purple blooms now beautify certain of the hill-slopes of Rockland: thence also came to us the famous IOWA CORN, stalks from our growth whereof, lay in the outer office of 'The Tribune,' which 'Bro. GREELEY,' in his journal, said 'honestly measured fourteen and a half feet' - the 'ears' being longer than those of the most distinguished jackass. But, to 'make use of an expression' which we heard barked by a King-CHARLES Spaniel at a swift and thundering rail-road train, the other morning, 'Let that pass.' Our friend says: 'You have heard of the 'Blarney-Stone of New-England,'* and of 'MILES STANDISH'S Courtship.' Well, I left the region of those romantic histories, not very long since, with a copy of LONGFELLOW's last work under my arm, a piece of 'THE ROCK' in my trowsers-pocket, and sufficient other more current mineral to defray my expenses to the western banks of the Mississippi; and after a few days' pleasant travelling, found myself landed in this very flourishing city. I presume you have been here:' (very sorry to say, 'No:') 'I propose taking up my abode in apartments once occupied by a Mr. STUBBS, ‘in a sort of cave, excavated in a mound at East-Davenport.' I have an architect, an artist, and an upholsterer now examining the premises, with a view to fitting them up with 'early occidental' magnificence. Shrubbery that KEOKUK might have envied, will bloom around me: music that might have charmed BLACK HAWK and his copper-colored nymphs will be mine: subjects for the pencil of the artist, not unadorned, however, that APELLES would have coveted, will spread their beauties * YES: and where and when the phrase was first employed, by the whole-hearted REYBURN, President of the New-York St. PATRICK'S Society. It was an ineffaceable 'hit.' before me and then there will be fruitful matter for mental speculation, in the associations connected with the subterranean edifice. But perhaps you do n't know much about Mr. STUBBS? Then listen to this brief account of him, from an authentic and every-way-reliable 'History of Iowa: ' - '1848. A noticeable event of this year, was the death of an individual named JAMES R. STUBBS. He was born in 1797, and graduated at West-Point with high honor. He was stationed at Fort Armstrong, on Rock-Island, in 1822, and in 1826 he served under his brother-in-law, Judge MCLEAN, in the Post-Office Department. He afterward removed to Cincinnati, and for some three or four years served in the PostOffice and Clerk's Department of that city. While there, it is supposed that he became involved in some unfortunate love-matter, for his character was thoroughly and essentially changed. He returned to Davenport in 1833; and after '37, for eight years lived a recluse in a sort of cave excavated in a mound at East-Davenport. There, with no other companion than his pets a pig, a dog, or cat, or all he passed a rigidly secluded life. BYRON, in his misanthropy, petted a bear; and STUBBS, in his, petted a pig. He would ocsionally walk into town, with his family all at his heels. For some two years before his death, he was induced to come forth from his hermitage. He was elected Justice of the Peace, which station he filled up to his death, with an impartial and incorruptible integrity. His residence was in the small brick tenement on the north-east corner of Main and Third streets, in which he kept bachelor's hall. Judge MITCHELL relates that, upon several occasions, while passing STUBBS's house late at night, he heard a violent clamor, as if a furious altercation were being carried on within. Curiosity prompted him to open the door one evening, when the noise was at its loudest, to ascertain the cause. Instead of a half-dozen persons, as he expected, about to engage in a 'free' and deadly fight, there were only STUBBS and his cat! The latter was seated upon his knee, and listening demurely to his master, who was cursing him with every anathema in the vernacular, profane or sacred. Master Tom's offence seemed to be an amorous habit, which he had fallen into, of paying nocturnal visitations to the feline residents of the neighborhood. 'STUBBS was a man of unflinching honesty and of liberal education; and had not the unfortunate event, before alluded to, occurred to affect his life, he would undoubtedly have bequeathed his name to posterity, as a legacy honorable and respected. He died May twenty-first, aged about fifty-one years.' 'Poor STUBBS! He paid some woman a very extravagant compliment, if he buried himself alive for eight years, on her account. However, I always sympathize with a man who makes himself supremely ridiculous on account of a woman. I think it indicates strong feelings, and a large endowment of the imaginative faculty. The more melancholy the lamentations, and the more heart-rending the lachrymose emotions, the more creditable to the man, of course. If Mr. STUBBS had married the girl who jilted him, (if he was jilted: I know nothing of the matter, except what is contained in this sketch,) it is possible, had they been married, they might have been pulling each other's hair within six months afterward. What a saving of amorous sentimental misanthropy that would have caused. 'For the benefit of all incipient STUBBSES who may be 'involved in some unfortunate love-matter,' I desire to copy a love-sick passage, addressed by one who is now a member of the Cabinet in England, to the lady who is at present, very much to his regret, his wife: 'PARDON, if for one brief moment your historian pauses to mingle the gushings of his own affections with the tale which he dedicates to yours! Beautiful being, whom now, in no wild and boyish vision, I behold, with thy soft eyes, which are as the mirrors of human tenderness; and thy pure brow, where never cloud or shade ruffled the abode of all gentle and womanly thought; and thy fairy and fond step, where the vigilance and care of love preside and sleep not: hast thou filled the fountains of my heart with a mighty and deep stream: and shall they not overflow? Thy cheek is paler than it was, my love, and thy smile has a fainter play, and the music of thy sweet voice is more low and hushed, and the zephyr that waiteth on thy footstep flags at times with a weaker wing; so that, when I look on thee, my eyes have tears,' etc, etc. 'THIS was written several years ago; and although Sir EDWARD cannot now look on his wife unmoved, I doubt very much if he is inclined to shed tears, when he beholds her, unless it may be from vexation. The music of her sweet voice' now causes his cheek to become 'paler than it was,' whenever its dulcet sound reaches his ears: and only a year or two ago, during an electioneering campaign, so enchanted was he by its melodious tones, that he abruptly left the platform from which he was soon to address 'that many-headed monster, the Populace,' and did not again appear until the 'sweet voice' of the 'beautiful being' became 'low and hushed' in the distance! 'The zephyr that waiteth upon her Ladyship's footsteps,' probably now gives impetus to her foot, as she vindictively swings it toward her once so ardent lover. The fact is, those streams, that had their fountains in his heart, did overflow, and caused a very extensive domestic freshet. It flooded a great portion of two continents with the bitter waters of conjugal strife and bickerings, poured out chiefly from the weaker vessel. 'I think it cannot be reasonably doubted, that BULWER was in as bad a way, when he wrote that gushing zephyrian production, as STUBBS could well have been, when he went into his cave. If the latter had bent his energies toward a seat in the Cabinet at Washington, instead of wasting them upon the unproductive culture of pigs and dogs, and in 'free lectures' to Tom-cats, he would have led a different life: that is about all. Whether it would have been wiser or not, I will not undertake to say, without knowing more of the man. I only sought to illustrate, through the experience of BULWER, that it was very ridiculous to be driven into a cave by a love-affair. 'I do not propose to lead such a life in this cave as Mr. STUBBS did; on the contrary, I hope to live in a most hospitable and social manner. I have a small piece of ground, not far off, upon which I intend to raise onions for the New-England market. I have secured a 'first-rate agent' in Boston, whose card I send you, in case your own garden should not supply you with what seasoning material you require : B. Rogers, SOLE AGENT FOR COUTTS' HIGHLY-FLAVORED ONIONS. Office, No. 23 Fresen-Street, Boston. N.B. The particular attention of Pickle Makers is invited to this wellknown vegetable, as it affords a cheaper and more nutritious condiment than any spices from the Mediterranean. 'If you should have occasion to call upon Mr. ROGERS, you will find him one of the most obliging and indefatigable of men. I am under great obligation to him, for he has done more to introduce my onions into the market than any other man. A. C.' EDITORIAL NARRATIVE-HISTORY OF THE KNICKERBOCKER MAGAZINE: NUMBER FIVE. We are not without the fear, from circumstances which are unavoidable, that our readers may come to regard us somewhat in the light of the hero of HOOD'S 'Tale of a Trumpet.' But it should be remembered that he was not boasting: he was only adverting to a superior instrument which he vended: if we recollect rightly, he did not pretend either to have invented, or even to have manufactured his wonderful horn: so that he could proclaim its excellence, without justly incurring the charge of personal egotism. His reasons for praising it were sound: 'Ir is not 'the thing' for me, I know it, It would not be 'the thing' for us, at this stage of our narrative-history, to speak of the favor into which the KNICKERBOCKER gradually and permanently rose, from the point at which we left it in our last number, but for the fact, that we remember no similar example of combined intellectual effort on the part of its contributors, who, with a fervid esprit de corps, were all the while increasing, until (and they were scarcely more than among the entire list, numerically speaking) the following names were presented: while all the time there was a growing affection toward the Magazine, on the part of the public, as surprising as it was gratifying: WASHINGTON IRVING, JOSEPH C. NEAL, PROF. HITCHCOCK, MRS. E. C. EMBURY, HON. D. D. BARNARD, REV. MR. GANNETT, (MASS.) ALFRED B. STREET, CONSUL G. W. GREENE, JAMES BROOKS, REV. DR. SPRING, J. N. BELLOWS, MISS M. A. BROWNE, REV. DR. SCHROEDER, Many of this noble corps have 'fallen by the way-side' in the journey of life: |