Pieces by several eminent hands, which was printed at London in 1628. From the initials J. M., and the date 1627, the finder pertinently asks, Is it possible that this may be an early and neglected sonnet of Milton?" To which our reply is, that whether it be Milton's or not, the latter part of it is worthy of Milton, and what is worthy of him, is worth preserving. ON THE LIBRARY AT CAMBRIDGE. In that great maze of books I sigh'd and said, Stand brightly forth; not tombs, but living shrines, Spreading a relic wealth richer than gold mines. J. M. 1627. Sea-Spray: A Long Island Village. By MARTHA WICKHAM. New York: Derby & Jackson. 1857. How thick the novel-writers do swarm in this our great, wonderful, glorious nineteenth century! From one year's end to another, publishing-houses keep starting up on all sides, with amazing rapidity; and nearly all of them are continually big with novels. And a very large portion of them are decidedly readable, and a pretty fair proportion of them even better than that! Bless us! whither are we tending? At this rate, the time cannot be far distant, when every man, aye, and woman too, will be able to write novels for themselves. Telling stories, making fiction? why, it is getting to be as easy, and almost as common, as lying! far more easy and far more common, we fear, than telling truths and making facts. Well, there is no use in trying to turn the Mississippi up-stream, and make it run towards its source. And as for stopping, or even checking the freshet of novels, pshaw! we might just as well think of persuading the pig-headed earth to revolve on its axis the other way;-we dont exactly remember which way she is in the habit of rolling. Our American fictionists, especially the later ones, do not appear, so far at least as we have made their acquaintance,-which, by the way, is not very far,-to trace their lines enough in real native, homemade ink. They are not idiomatic enough either in substance or dress: their colouring smells too much of liquids prepared and bottled up in poor, dull old Europe: even when they give us home faces, there is, somehow, too much of an imported tang and air about them. "There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to be a Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman tomorrow, or in the shape of two countries at once." Now, we are by no means satisfied that the brain-children of American writers should thus look as though, all their lifelong, they had "sighed their breaths in foreign clouds, eating the bitter bread of banishment." Doubtless, European airs may do very well for Europeans; but we are not they by several degrees and some minutes; and our own airs, if not better in themselves, are better for our breathing. Let every man be himself, that is, if he have any self; if he have not, then he is no man for us, but merely a walking vacuum,-a thing which nature is said to abhor. The practical upshot of all this is, that if we should undertake to counsel American novelists, which we have no notion of doing, our first advice would be, that they should much more "grind among the iron facts of life," and then dip their pens in their own hearts, and let importation go hang. Sea-Spray appears to be the first heir of the writer's invention. At least, Martha Wickham is a name new to us. But it may have been long famous for all that. We suppose it to be merely the name of the authoress, not of the woman what the latter is, we cant tell, and wouldn't if we could. The book came to us, accompanied with a brief note, not from the authoress, asking if we could give it a "candid criticism, without partiality or favour." Our first thought thereupon was, that 'twere best not to read the book at all, lest we should take up some prejudice against it; but we went to reading it nevertheless, and the result was, that we presently began to grow prejudiced in its favour; which only shows how dangerous it is for one to venture inside of a book before criticizing it. As it is, we fear that we shall not be able to shake off the disqualification of "partiality or favour." Sea-Spray is represented as the name of a village on Long Island, where the scene of the events is mostly laid. The story opens with the stranding of a ship, near this village, in a storm, and with the rallying of the inhabitants, headed by the wreck-master, to the rescue of the crew and cargo. The vessel proves to be the Orphan, Clarence De Koven captain, bound from Liverpool to New York, via Boston, and having on board one Mr. Evelyn with his wife and two children, as passengers. Through the bravery of the wreck-master and his neighbours, all the contents of the ship are safely landed in Sea-Spray; the sailors and passengers are treated to the best hospitalities of the place; and finally the ship herself is got off uninjured. What with the delicacy of her constitution, and what with the perils and hardships of the catastrophe, Mr. Evelyn's daughter, a little loving mute, dies soon after the landing, and is buried in the graveyard of Sea-Spray; which event determines her father to fix his home in that place. Mrs. Evelyn is soon discovered to be a most unhappy woman her conduct is very mysterious; she seems tormenting herself with some hidden grief, which makes her hysterical at times, and keeps her alternating between fits of strange peevishness and as strange tenderness; nor is the mystery cleared up till near the end, when it is found to have proceeded from the writhings of her conscience under a secret evil, which at last wears her into the grave; though not till after her tender and gentle boy has been laid in the earth beside his little sister. The book is mainly occupied with the trials and incidents of their life at Sea-Spray. Between Evelyn and De Koven there exists a close and confirmed friendship. It turns out that Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn first found each other in a shipwreck, from which only they two escaped, and De Koven was the agent of their rescue. Of course love and marriage were but the natural consequence of such an event; yet the marriage was not blessed in its results, and yielded no abiding fruits but sorrow and anguish. The same fact also explains the fast friendship of the men.. The chief interest of the story is made to hinge on the ugly and ill-chosen circumstance of a woman having two husbands; the blame of the thing resting wholly with the wife, and the men having no share in it but as sufferers. Now, we feel most kindly towards the authoress, and hold no mean opinion of her talents; yet we must needs own that we can scarce conceive of a more unfortunate and offensive device for the plot of a novel, It is true, such things may sometimes be forced upon our contemplation in real life; but we can find no sufficient excuse for working them up into fictitious narrative, as they can hardly be turned into sources either of edification or pleasure. With the moral use here made of the thing, perhaps no fault can be justly found; but we think it ought not to be used at all in a work of the kind: if such a thing come in the shape of a fact, leave it in that shape, but do not undertake to touch it with the ministry of Art. There is another portion of the book, that lies open to equal objections, though of a very different sort. It is the part about the miserable Copperly and his monstrous wife, which comes in as an awkward episode, such as can neither yield profit or pleasure in itself, nor add to the pleasure or profit of anything else. Besides, the thing is coarsely and bunglingly done; there is no skill in the delivery to make up for the disgust of the matter: in short, it is simply an arrant botch, neither more nor less. One other fault we must mention, as spreading somewhat of disfigurement through nearly all parts of the book. It is, that in respect of the pathetic and the tender we miss what Wordsworth calls "the modest charm of not too much." It is very dangerous undertaking to work upon these fine and quiet sympathies, for nothing dries so soon as tears; a very little overdone in this line is worse than a great deal come tardy off. Real feeling is generally shy and bashful and reserved; it tells the longest tale in the fewest words, makes the best showing when it tries to keep out of sight, and overcomes by touches, not by blows. A wordy and voluble pathos is but bathos. In this book, the thing is sometimes carried so far that it affects us rather like a monotony of sentimental whine or drawl. We speak of these faults with something of emphasis, because we really think the authoress has good stuff in her, and we would fain do somewhat, if we can, towards helping it to its proper action and effect. The work shows fancy, observation, adaptiveness, something of humour, a living companionship with nature, a limber and clear mind, an elevated purpose, a liberal fund of freshness and originality; but not quite the facility and felicity of a mistress of the art. As a whole, the work, we fear, cannot pass for very much; but portions of it evince very considerable powers both of insight and of delineation; some of the characters are happily conceived, and worked out with a good degree of coherence and featurely effect. The style, though sometimes languid through repletion, is often highly spirited and vigourous, and full of idiomatic gust, and is varied with not a little skill, so as to express the living peculiarities of individual thought and character. As a specimen of the writer's best manner, we may refer to the colloquy of Mrs. Godrick and Lundy, where the latter tells the story of De Koven's birth and life. The Connections of the Universe, as Seen in the Light of God's created and written Revelations. New York: T. N. Stanford. 1857. This is indeed a very odd book; it has something on almost every page, that may well touch the reader with astonishment. The connections of the Universe are a great subject; enough, one would think, to stuff out a large volume, if not more; yet this book, however great it may be, is by no means a big book, only 315 pages 12mo. And yet, for aught we can see, the book thoroughly exhausts the subject,-so far, that is, as the author has mastered it. This is certainly a great excellence, and one rarely attained in anything like so high a degree. After this, perhaps the most noteworthy feature of the work is, that it furnishes a rare fund of words unincumbered with thought; on which account we can heartily recommend it to a certain patriotic emigrant who writes weakly editorials by the rod for a very small and select circle of readers with what he already has, and what he can get out of this book, he may almost become a match for "the English Opium-Eater," so far as vocables are concerned. Another impressive item in the catalogue of the book's merits is the being singularly innocent of logic, and continuity of argument; though we are not sure but a slight sprinkling of these dull, old-fashioned properties might be borne with in a work of the kind. In this respect, the book strikes us as not unlike some of Emerson's writings; insomuch that it seems mainly indifferent whether one starts at the beginning and reads towards the end, or starts at the end and reads towards the beginning, or starts in the middle and reads both ways. Then, too, after going through the book, one can turn right back and go through it again, and find it just about as fresh the second reading as the first. Need any book ask higher praise than this? On the whole, we have rarely met with a work that one could read through, under a less oppressive sense of duty to do so. In his Preface, the author tells us that "this volume undertakes to generalize some floating thoughts on the Revelation which God has made to man." That's it exactly: the book is made up of floating thoughts generalized. And there can be no doubt, we opine, that these floating thoughts are so winged with words that they will easily keep afloat. Having said thus much, we ought to add, that the author gives us many quotations and scientific findings, that are both curious and instructive. To be sure, one does not well see why such things are there; but they are good anywhere. OUR LEFT-HAND DRAWER. COMMON SCHOOLS.-American Protestants of all sorts seem to be agreed that we must have something in the shape of Common Schools. That selfgovernment and ignorance cannot permanently stand together, is held to be the settled verdict of reason and experience; nor are there wanting many strong arguments to the point, that the very attempt at self-government, unless it rest upon a basis of popular education, will in the long run prove fruitful of nothing but social and political evil. We shall therefore take for granted that all our brethren are in favour, at whatever cost, of a general education of the people. So far, good. There is in most of the States, if not all, more or less of public provision made, by tax or otherwise, against the dangers of popular ignorance. Every year of our national history is increasing the amount and confirming the necessity of this provision. For the system of common schools clearly goes with our civil institutions as a main element of their strength and life; is bound upon them by the laws, and to the ends, of self-preservation and selfdefence. And we are pledged to that system not only generally as men and as Christians, but especially as American citizens, as republican freemen. The thing may not indeed be necessary to the salvation of individual men, but it is necessary with us to the salvation of the State. Now, we cannot think it wise for the Church, or any portion of the Church, to put itself at odds with the State in this particular. We cannot for a moment admit that there is any real conflict between our duties as Churchmen and our duties as American citizens. It is a part of our faith, that whatsoever is essential to the strength and stability of our civil and political institutions, stands in entire reciprocity with the requirements of the Gospel and the Church. It is with no little regret, therefore, we have learned that one of our Diocesan Conventions have a movement on foot for applying to the State for their proportion of the public school fund, with a view to establish and carry on schools of their own. The measure has our best wishes that it may finish its career in the body where it began; for we believe that such an application will not succeed, and ought not to succeed; and we are quite clear that it had far better be unmade, than made and refused. We take for granted that this movement contemplates a pro rata distribution of the school fund among the several religious denominations, so that each shall have its educational establishment separate and distinct from the others, and subject to its management and control. This, it seems to us, would probably end in breaking up the system of common schools altogether, and certainly in defeating the main purpose of it. In fact, the schools would then be denominational, and not common in any proper sense of the term. As such, they would fail to reach the very people who stand most in need of them. Of course the plan is, that the specialities of Christian doctrine, as held by different religious bodies, shall be formally and systematically taught in their |