Text: Various, “Opinions of the Press,” Southern Literary Messenger (Richmond, VA), vol. I, no. 13, September 1835, covers

TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

In our next number, which will be the first of the second volume, will appear, among other articles, No. IV of Professor Dew's Disseration; No. IX of the Tipoline Sketches; a full Review of Mr. Martin's Virginia Gazetteer; also a copy of the Address delivered by Lucian Minor, Esq., before the Institute of Education at Hampden Sidney, on the 24th of September , and which has been bespoken for publication in the Messenger. The delay attendant upon the issuing of the present number has been occasioned by our desire of furnishing a complete Index to the Volume. This we hope will prove, with all our friends, a satisfactory excuse. What has become of our valued friend Lionel Granby? This is a question frequently asked us, and to which we are unable to give a satisfactory reply. Boyington, by J. T. of M. has some fine passages, but its length and other causes render it inadmissible. The story of Ginevra is perhaps as well told by Ella as by Rogers, but we fear is too well known to prove generally interesting. We should be very glad to hear from this writer again. In answer to numerous demands for sets of Volume I, we have to inform our subscribers and others that the whole edition, consisting of fourteen hundred copies, is exhausted.

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OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.

From the Richmond Compiler.

We have been favored by the proprietor of the Southern Literary Messenger, with the perusal of a letter from the writer of articles on “English Poetry.” The writer, whose name we are not at liberty to give to the public, is unquestionably one of the most gifted and highly intellectual of Virginia's sons. He pays a deserved compliment to a fellow contributor to the Messenger; and we take great pleasure in spreading an extract from his letter before our readers.

“In looking over your list of contributors, I see the name of Mr. Poe. I have heard of some passages in his life, which have added to the interest with which I read his writings. *** For God's sake, value him according to his merits, which are exceeding great. I say this with deliberation, for I have been months in coming to the conclusion that he is the first genius, in his line, in Virginia. And when I say this, how many other States are included — certainly all South of us. The conversation in Morella — the description in Berenice of a mind dwelling with strained intensity upon some particular [trifling] object with which the eye meets — and the description of that Beckford of Venice, and his singular sanctum in the Visionary: as also the vague speculations of Hans Phaal upon the scenery of the moon — with its shadow-stained lakes and sombre vegetation — are compositions of rare beauty. I am too much hurried to write good English, but you may understand from what I have scribbled above, that I admire Poe greatly.

“Who was it pronounced Nugator's Sale vulgar stuff? I have never read a wittier or shrewder bagatelle. “Times were” when dramatists made chamber wenches speak like queens and princesses. Would Nugator's critic have him put ball-room phrases in the mouth of a hoe-cake ridger?”

The twelfth number of Mr. White's Southern Literary Messenger has come to hand, and we feel great pleasure in being able to add our individual testimony to the numerous commendatory notices of the work which we see in the papers of the day. We presume no monthly

journal in the country contains as large an amount of matter as the Messenger, and this matter, too, is all [column 2:] original, and, generally speaking, of a high order of excellence. A great many of the papers have hitherto been furnished by men whose names, were they publicly known, could not fail of establishing for the journal a reputation of no ordinary kind. We will subjoin a notice in detail of the principal articles in the present number.

The first on the list is No. VII of the Sketches of the History and Present Condition of Tripoli, with some account of the other Barbary States. These able and valuable papers are attributed to the pen of ROBT. GREENHOW, Esq., of the Department of State. It will readily be seen that they are something beyond mere “sketches” to which the modesty of their author would confin

them, and will form, when completed, the only connected and detailed History of the Barbary Powers in existence. Mr. G.'s style is well adapted to historical narrative, and is, in every respect, unexceptionable We hope that, upon completing his sketches, the universal pleasure with which they have been received, will induce him to publish them in a more permanent form. We have no doubt that ere this, he has discovered that some alterations might be made for the better in the arrangement of his narrative, and that he has suffered to escape him some good opportunities of amplification. It is not often, however, that we have to find, fault with any writer for conciseness. We shall look for his next number with impatience.

The second article is an Extract from the MSS. of B. D. Mitchell, Esq., giving an account of some extraordinary Indian feats of Legerdemain. Without being singularly incredulous, we are somewhat puzzled what precise degree of credit it would be proper for us to bestow upon the wonders here detailed. The writer is surely not quizzing us? At all events, the extracts will be read with no little interest.

The opening papers of Lionel Granby awakened expectations which will not, we fear, be realized. There are evidences of great ability in these chapters — glimpses of what might have been, but is not. We presume the author is a young man. He has a mind teeming with poetry, and there is an air of quiet strength pervading his narrative. But then he is guilty of some sins, not the least of which are a love of Pelhamism, (utterly out of place, by the by, amid the ball-rooms, half bar-rooms, in which Mr. Granby luxuriates,) and an invincible inclination for artificiality of style, a crazed desire of twisting sentences out of all manner of proportion. In general, he could write better with less trouble. In particular, the ill-used and often misapprehended word graphic, could not be better applied than in speaking of some of his descriptions. For example: “An aged negro, the ‘harmonious Philips’ of the country, dressed in the ample costume of the old school, with a powdered head, a large knob of watch seals, and a silver ship in his bosom, controlled with fierce tyranny his partners of the bow, fife, and triangle. Bowing almost to the floor, he would ever and anon cry out in a magisterial tone, cross over — forward — turn your partners: — done! and catching the inspiration of cat-gut and rosin, his ivory teeth were displayed like the keys of a piano forte, while his broad face fairly laughed itself into ecstasy.”

The Letters from a Sister are full of spirit and vivacity. It has become quite the fashion to call every silly thing of the kind “a model of epistolary ease,” &c., but we think better of these productions than to speak of them thus. The style is very good, but is any thing rather than epistolary. We doubt, also, if the writer even so much as saw many of the scenes which she has so cleverly described. These, however, are points of minor importance. We repeat that the letters are good in their way, and that way is in itself excellent.

We will not say more of the “Reclaimed than it actually deserves. It is an unpretending moral tale, chaste in style, and winning its way to every virtuous heart by purity and piety of sentiment. It is, however, nothing more — exhibiting little force, and less invention. [inside first back cover:]

The “Dissertation on the Characteristic Differences between the Sexes,” is continued in the present number. This essay is from the pen of Professor DEW, and has received general commendation. We think it an admirable paper, in which much ingenuity, learning properly so called, and extensive information, have been brought to bear upon a subject of deep interest. It strikes us that he has drawn upon Mrs. Jameson's admirable work on the characteristics of women, for some of his ideas, but in that he has evinced both taste and good sense. Independently of this, his dissertation possesses great merit: it sometimes rises into sublimity, and has many sustained passages of great eloquence. We are sorry, therefore, to observe a certain slovenliness of manner in some parts which would seem to imply that the essay has been Written in a hurry. This observation we do not mean to apply to the manner and style alone, but to the matter itself We have many instances of allusions rather low, and some ill-mannered sneers at contemporary writers. What, for example, could have called for the following sentence? It is an illustration of both of these accusations, and at the same time added not a jot to the force of the remarks preceding it. “As was said of the poetry of Tom Moore, we do not like always to feed upon the whip-syllabubs, we soon become hungry for bread and meat.” As was said, &c.? who said it? At all events, the words were little worth repeating. Tom Moore's poems are not whipt syllabub, and the Professor should be whipped if he things so.

The next article in order is “Bon-Bon,” a Tale, by EDGAR A. POE. It is characterized by the quaint humor and eccentricity for which that gentleman's writings are usually remarkable, and by the antique lore, and happy talent for invention which distinguish some of his other tales. Bon-Bon is a most philosophical restaurateur, and the Devil, who appears to him, the most gentlemanly of his race.

The “Extracts from my Mexican Journal” are full of interesting information upon a subject which will not fail of attracting general notice. We cannot sufficiently recommend papers of this nature to the attention of Mr. White.

“My first Night in a Watch-house, Chapter II,” is as good as chapter I., and they are both very good, and as Magazine articles, particularly excellent. The Adventures of Pertinax promise to afford a large fund of amusement to the readers of the Messenger. He tells his queer tales with inimitable oddity, and no little grace; and appears to be one of the id genus whose stories lose nothing by the manner of their narration — whose peculiar province it is to make something of every thing, and a great deal of nothing at all. If we mistake not P. P. is an old acquaintance of ours, and one whose written tales ill wit, oddity, and humor, are mere fac similes of his oral conversation.

The Critical Notices and Literary Intelligence contain their usual variety of matter. We are glad to perceive an extraordinary quantity of very good poetry in the present number, and one or two pieces of a far higher order than it usually falls to our lot to peruse. We have only room to particularize the beautiful little ballad beginning “They have given her to another,” and the “Lines in Remembrance of Thomas H. White,” as well as “The Maniac's Address to the Moon,”and the verses by A. L. Beard, beginning “ Oh, there are many brilliant things.” Some passages also in the poem “On the burning of the Richmond Theatre,” are full of energy and feeling. — National Intelligencer.

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SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER — devoted to every department of Literature and the Fine Arts. A thundering long title, which we recommend the proprietor to abridge with out an hour's delay, after receiving this number of the New England Galaxy. Beside being altogether too lengthy, as we say here, it is altogether unworthy of the magnificent South. It betrays a sort of self-distrust — a something calculated to cover too much ground, as if no southern paper could [column 2:] hope to succeed, even at the south, unless, covering so much territory as a moderate-sized encyclopedia. It smacks moreover of pretension, as well as of doubt, and all these things we hold to be undignified — unmanly — and therefore, certainly out of place with our high-minded brethren of the south, the children of the sun.

Abridge the title. Inscribe on the forehead of such a gallant undertaking, one or two brief words, and let there be a motto — like a banner — underneath which a great people may never be ashamed to fight, whether of this or of any other age. If the south is to betake herself to the field of literature at all, it should be after a fashion worthy of her character and resources, ‘in panoply complete!’ Instead of hoping for encouragement, she should command it, from the strength and flower of the people — summoning them to the rescue in a body, as with the ‘trumpet's dread hourrah!’

What if they call this the Southern Messenger — the work having already obtained a sort of reputation under that, as a part of its title — and stand by it accordingly?

Of the preceding editor we know nothing. Of the present we know this, and we lose no time in saying so, he is emphatically a man of genius. Being a man of genius, it will depend altogether upon the sort of encouragement he receives, whether the work be a matter of pride or of reproach to the south. Feed the furnace — if you hope for a triumphant issue. If you would know whether that which men call earth, may not be full of subterranean sunshine — of the purest gold — you must try it with fire, and the hotter the better. Wood up! — if you mean to go ahead!

We have no time, though a plenty of inclination, to review this number, the last of the year, as it deserves. But still, though we cannot do altogether as we would wish in the premises, we can spare a paragraph or two on the efforts of Mr. Edgar A. Poe — on two or three other articles — and in justification of what we have said, and yet mean to say, in favor of the Literary Messenger, for so we shall persist in calling it, whatever others may do. We abominate long names — and cannot stomach the idea of a southerner distrusting a southerner.

But first — a word with the Richmond Enquirer, whose opinion of the work appears on the inside cover. What the devil do you mean by the following passage? Speaking of the editor you say, “His notices are learned without pedantry, and his criticisms are redolent of a poet's taste, and beaming with a poets fire.” Hav’n’t ye such a thing as an English Dictionary in your office? — If no, just step into the nearest book store and get one to suit yourself, and have it charged to — any body you please — Andrew Jackson or the Richmond Enquirer. How can you be guilty of such things, after all we have said on the subject? Who will care a fig for your opinion of a literary work, if you are guilty of such unforgiveable nonsense?

Tripoli. — Good. If the other six numbers are equal t.o this, they ought to be botind up together and republished.

Indian Legerdemain, etc. — Is from the MSS. of D. D. Mitchell. If we had room, we should extract these two papers. They are wonderful; and if no joke, are enough to re-establish a belief in Sorcery and Phrophecy [[Prophecy]].

On the death of James Gibbon Carter. — though written by Maraba — pho!

Lines and Stanzas. — The first, far too newspaperish for a literary journal, and the last, fair.

Lionel Granby: Chap. V. — Clever — though not so lively as we could wish for a novel.

Letters from a Sister: XVII. — Pleasant, easy and faithful.

Jack Tell has poetry in him: so we shan’t stop to particularize.

The Reclaimed. — The old story managed in rather a new way.

The Ocean: O. M. C. D. — Two or three good thoughts — and about as many happy expressions. The author wants practice and fervor, and above all a hearty con- [first back page, outside:]

[[missing]] for mo[[missing]] old fashioned classics — the sleep[[missing]] of all earthly literature.

The Sexes: No. III. — We don’t give the titles al length — our paper isn’t large enough. A chapter worth volumes heretofore perpetrated on the same subject: in short capital.

To F. — by H. — Fiddle de-dee.

To Mary. — Ditto — ditto.

Song: by Morna. — Here is a touch of real poetry —

‘Though the flowers of feeling are fallen and faded —

And the heart by their withered leaves o’ershaded,

May hide a thorn though it nurse the pain!

Yet the flowers of memory may still remain!’

though more than half suggested, what a pity! by Moore's

‘You may break — you may ruin the vase, if you will

But the scent of the roses will hang round it still!’

But very beautiful, nevertheless, and where most beautiful not suggested by any body — we dare say, barring always the bright particular star,’ intended by the sorrowing Morna.

Remember me Love: by Mrs. Ann Roy. — Eloquent, impassioned and lofty — what can be more touching and beautiful than this?

And what more exalted and generous than the following?

++ ‘When afar thou art roaming love

In sunny climes where maiden's eyes

Beam bright as their own glowing skies,

Where lofty domes and scented bowers

Gleam with the golden orange flowers;

And many a column and fallen fane } false rhyme.

Tell of Italia's buried fame, }

++ Oh then remember me, love!

To Sarah. — Boyish but sincere.

Bon-Bon: by Edgar A. Poe. — Excellent! — we need not say more — excellent!

Lines to Thomas H. White. — Evidently intended for a newspaper.

A Maniac's Address to the Moon. — Real poetry.

To a Nephew: by Mrs. Ann Roy. — Sweet and graceful.

Lines: by Alex. Lacy Beard. — Here is another specimen of the right sort of ore — showing what the South — he is of the South we hope — is capable of.

A Mexican Journal. — Interesting and satisfactory. Ballad. — Very sweet and very affectionate.

The Coliseum: Edgar A. Poe. — Majestic and powerful poetry.

The Watch-House. — Well worth continuing; but wherefore Pertinax Placid? These absurdities have gone by, with the inventors of Sir Benjamin Backbite, Roderick Random, and Humphrey Clinker. Why give your readers a clue to your story, and perhaps to your catas- trophe, in the very first line of the title-page? what if Peter Simple and such fellows are all the go, — is that a reason for regenerating these tricks of the trade?

Translations. — Clever, faithful and happy !

Critical Notices. — Rather too cautious, but lively.

There! — we have done with the Literary Messenger, and all we have to say in conclusion is — men of the south! — awake! — up with your banners! out with all your strength — if the Literary Messenger is not now altogether what it should be — make it so! — It is your fault, and will be your reproach, if the south continue to be what it now is, barren of Literature!

[New England Galaxy.

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Southern Literary Messenger — We have been direlict [[derelict]] in not noticing oftener this admirable work. We hope however, that it is extensively patronised in this city, as it is unquestionably second to no work of the kind published in this, and we are ignorant that it is exceeded m any other country. It is handsomely printed on very [column 2:] superior paper, and the getting up is every way commendable. The contents of each number are sufficiently varied to suit the taste of every one, and gratify all. We have derived great pleasure from the contributions of our townsmen E. A. Poe, Esq. who is fast building up for himself a high reputation as a writer of fiction. The extract from the unpublished drama of Arnold and Andre, by the author of Herbert Barclay, &c. has deservedly been noticed by several of our contemporaries as highly poetical, and worthy of the subject. The whole drama when published will add another wreath to the brow of its author. There are in the course of publication in this work Sketches of the History of Tripoli, and the Barbary Stales. The numbers that have already been published are well written, and very entertaining. We could notice many other articles of merit, but refer our readers to the work itself with an assurance that they will be pleased with it.

[Baltimore Chronicle.

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From the Richmond Compiler.

The annexed critique, upon the merits of the Literary Messenger, is from a paper which is remarkable for its independence upon questions of literature. The tribute to Professor Dew's “Dissertation,” is just and handsomely expressed; and the compliment to the author of Bon-Bon is a high one, yet fully deserved, as every unprejudiced mind will admit. The first writer has already attained a distinguished place amongst the literati of the age; the latter has only to do justice to himself, by a close and regular application to study, to enable him to rise to eminence, in despite of every obstacle.

“Southern Literary Messenger. — This brilliant periodical, which has attained its twelfth number, well maintains the high expectations which were formed in consequence of the glowing talent displayed in its earliest numbers. Its course has been still onward, and we can give it no higher praise than to say that it fairly represents the peculiar genius of that section of country to which it is an honor. It is more closely printed than any of its rival magazines, and at the same time is inferior, neither in elegance of typography or literary merit, to any contemporary. Its prose articles, though of various degrees and orders of excellence, are, without an exception, good ; one, a Dissertation on the Characteristic Differences between the Sexes, is of rare and extraordinary beauty. We hardly known which to prefer, the admirable taste and feeling, the correct judgment, or the general scholarship manifested throughout the paper. Sketches of the History, etc. of the Barbary States, is a very lucid and agreeable account of the transactions and varying condition of those States, during the present century, containing the events by which our infant navy achieved its earliest and not least eminent renown. Extraordinary Feats of Indian Legerdemain, are very spiritedly related, though perhaps a little too extraordinary. Lionel Granby — a well enough written, but not very interesting tale of modern life. Letters from a Sister — The prettiest and liveliest epistolary description of Paris, its society and scenery, we have lately seen. The Reclaimed — Quite a good tale. Bon-Bon: by Edgar A. Poe — One of the most exquisite jeux d’esprit we have read in many a day. It is equal, perhaps superior, to any thing Theodore Hook ever wrote. Extracts from my Mexican Journal — A delightful

paper, and one that forms an excellent accompaniment to the article on the same subject, in the American Monthly; this, relating chiefly to the antiquities and scenery, the other, to the men and manners of modern Mexico. My First Night in a Watch-house, is not equal to the rest, though good in its way. Of the poetry we cannot speak quite so highly as of the prose, with the exception of the translations from Horace, which are very close and spirited. It is a little singular, however, that the first is almost, word for word, the same with that of the same ode by Milton — though we cannot conceive the parallelism to have been wilful, as a person [second back cover, inside:] capable of writing the remainder so originally well, would hardly have condescended to a plagiary.

The Critical Notices, though numerous, and generally correct, are too slight for our taste. On the whole, the number is of unusual merit. Our northern magazines must, look to their laurels — we assure them the Southern Messenger will not allow them to sleep on their arms with any possibility of success.” — N. Y. Cour. & Enq

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Southern Literary Messenger. — The twelfth number of this ably conducted periodical has been lying several days upon our desk unnoticed. When a Messenger comes into our office in so pleasing a garb, and imparts to us such a variety of interesting information, we deem it an act of courtesy to return our acknowledgments in the spirit of kindness. The variety and interest with which the pages of the Messenger are at all times filled, render it a pleasing companion for a leisure hour. The poetical department of the present number is even more than usually well supplied. The Lines on the Burning of the Richmond Theatre, by a distinguished lady of Virginia, widow of one of the patriots of the revolution, possess great merit. They present a graphic and glowing picture of that awful catastrophe, which, in December, 1811, shrouded Richmond in mourning, and threw a general gloom over the country. They were written a short time after the conflagration, and have never before been published. Coliseum, a Prize Poem, by Edgar A Poe, evinces no inconsiderable descriptive talent. Indeed we think the author's fertile imagination can range the heights of Parnassus as well as the lofty mountains of our friendly and now highly interesting satellite. His Hans Phaal, published in a recent number of the Messenger, should be bound up in the same volume with the description of the sublime discoveries recently made by Dr. Herschell at the Cape of Good Hope. The lines entitled Remember me. Love, by the late Mrs Ann Roy, of Mathews co. Virginia, are touchingly sweet: this is the poetry of nature ; the poetry of the heart. The Letters from Paris are written with ease and sprightliness; Leontine's style is graceful and her descriptions happy. We always read a lady's letters with pleasure; they make us acquainted with feelings and interesting occurrences, which we in vain look for from any other source. No. 3, of Professor Dew's Dissertation upon the Characteristic Differences between the Sexes, is written with great ability. The author has evidently devoted much attention to this subject. The number and variety of facts which he has collected to sustain his positions, acquired from classic writers both ancient and modern, display his varied and extensive reading, and impart to this dissertation an unusual degree of interest. We have perused this essay with much attention, and are persuaded that it is decidedly superior to any other of the kind that has at any time met our observation. It is such papers as this that give to a periodical a character and reputation, which can never be acquired by lighter articles. We think the Messenger is increasing in interest with every number. It now ranks equal to the Knickerbocker, of which it may be considered the rival, in the race for literary fame and excellence. [[ — ]] Balt. Gazette.

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Southern Literary Messenger. — The twelfth number is before us. The Sketches of Tripoli, &c. are continued with unabated interest: the Dissertation on the Sexes, No. 3, is the production of an acute observer and profound philosopher — and Mr. Poe's Bon-Bon is quite a unique and racy affair.

This periodical goes on flourishingly, and can boast of many first rate contributors. — Winchester Republican.

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The twelfth number of the Southern Literary Messenger has been received, and from a hasty glance at its contents we perceive them to be such as will sustain the elevated character which it has justly acquired. Our townsman, Mr. E. A. Poe, is winning for himself a fair reputation by his contributions to the Messenger. He writes with a bold free hand, and is irresistibly interesting. We rarely give way to extravagant praise of any literary production; our simple expression of approbation is meant for real approval; therefore, when we say that the Southern Literary Messenger is in every way an ornament to Southern literature, and worthy of an enlarged and liberal patronage, we mean just what we say, and nothing less. — Balt. Young Man's Paper.

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We are indebted to Mr. White for the twelfth number of the Southern Literary Messenger. The monthly perusal of this elegant Magazine always affords us a rich literary treat. The number before us is made up of original matter, with the exception of a single article, “The Coliseum a Prize Poem,” by E. A. Poe.

The Messenger has taken an elevated stand among the literary publications of the day, and from the talent displayed by the contributors, the taste and discrimination of the Editor, and the neat- ness, we may say elegance, of the mechanical department, it cannot fail to retain and increase its popularity. We wish it continued success. — Camden (S. C.) Journal.

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The twelfth number of the Southern Literary Messenger, is before the public, and is already receiving high commendation from many of the editorial fraternity who have enjoyed its rich and varied pages. We have not examined it minutely, but we think we can justly bear testimony to its attractiveness, both as to the variety and style of the articles, nearly all of which are original.

The splendid production, from the pen of Professor Dew, “Dissertation on the Characteristic Differences between the Sexes,” is continued, and in itself presents a volume of delightful [column 2:] instruction and interesting [[missing]] elegant variety and mass of facts and argu[[missing]] the writer, to sustain his positions, and no one can turn from a perusal without an increased estimate of the high ability of the author.

The articles of Edgar A. Poe, in this and previous numbers, give us a very high opinion of his talents. He invariably exhibits great research, a fund of rich thought, and a felicity of expression, scarcely equalled by one of his years. Experience and practice, under judicious criticism, will render him distinguished as a literary man.

The interest excited in our minds by the first chapter of “My First Night in a Watch-House,” caused us to turn our attention very promptly to the second; and we were much amused at the incidents of the piece, as well as the manner of relating them. We cannot pay a better compliment to the author than the promise of looking for his third chapter with increased interest. We want to see him through the Police scene, and out of the Watch- House. He is a droll fellow any where, we doubt not.

Of the other articles, we are unable at present to speak. They are doubtless good, if we judge from what we know of the past efforts of the authors. — Richmond. Compiler.

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Southern Literary Messenger. The number before us, is the 12th of this valuable Journal , of the general excellence of which, the 1st number proved so bright a harbinger. We have react

it with much interest and attention, and it is but bare justice to acknowledge, that in no respect does the last No. fall short of its brilliant predecessors. Of the prose contributions, where all are more or less excellent in their way, it may appear invidious to speak particularly; but we cannot withhold the expression of our pleasure at again perceiving among numerous others, additional efforts to instruct and amuse, from such pens as those of the author of the Dissertation on the Differences of the Sexes; “Pertinax Placid” and Edgar A. Poe, who, say what the captious may, has given the most conclusive evidence of genius and talent of no ordinary cast as a writer, in his Hans Phaal and several other productions, before the readers of the Messenger. The extracts from the MSS. of D. D. Mitchell, Esq. which we have the best authority for saying are genuine and entirely to be relied on for truth and accuracy of detail, are to say the least, curious in the extreme. We purpose republishing them, for the gratification of those who are fond of the well authenticated marvellous. Morita's lines, commencing “ I will twine me a wreath of life's withering flowers,” is the poetical gem of the number; although it is graced by many others of decided merit and beauty. In conclusion we wish Mr. White a continued increase of that patron- age to which the high claims of his Journal so richly entitle him. [[ — ]] Petersburg Constellation.

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The twelfth number of the Southern Literary Messenger has been received, and is full of excellent things as usual. The amount of absolute matter contained in this Magazine is more than that of any Monthly Journal in the country, and in literary merit it is at least equal to any of the Northern Periodicals; we again recommend it particularly to the notice of our Eastern friends.

The Tripoline Sketches are continued in the present number. These papers will when completed, form a valuable addition to our knowledge of the Barbary Powers. They are evidently written with great care, and their accuracy of detail are not to be disputed. If we are not mistaken they are from the pen of Robert Greenhow, Esq. of Washington city. The Extracts from the MSS. of D. D. Mitchell are marvellous, but highly interesting. Lionel Granby does not improve upon acquaintance, we allude especially to its manner. Let the writer avoid affectation — it is his predominant sin — some typographical errors of an odd nature have also been overlooked in the present chapter of his narrative, which are the more remarkable from the general accuracy observable in the Messenger. The Letters from a Sister are as spirited and as pleasing as ever — perfectly chaste in style and altogether an excellent article. The Reclaimed, is a moral tale without any great depth of thought, or power of imagination. The leading article in No. 12 is a continuation of Professor Dew's admirable Essay on the Characteristic Differences between the Sexes — this dissertation has attracted much attention, and is universally commended — the subject is treated with some diffuseness and occasionally some vulgarity of manner; but these faults are amply redeemed by a profundity of thought, and variety of in- formation, such as are seldom brought to the aid of a mere Magazine. Bon-Bon, a Tale by Edgar A. Poe, sustains the well established reputation of the author as a writer possessing a rich imaginative genius, and a free, flowing and very happy style.

The Extracts from my Mexican Journal are highly interesting and valuable. Pertinax Placid is as entertaining as usual. His Autobiography is precisely the kind of reading adapted to the nature of a Magazine. It will be read with pleasure at moments when we would turn from matter of a graver or more labored nature. Scenes in Canada have also an air of freshness about them which will render them acceptable, apart from any other considerations. There are several poems of high merit in the present number. The lines on the Burning of the Richmond Theatre are very forcible — also those on the Death of Thomas H. White. — Baltimore Gazette.

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“The Southern Literary Messenger” for August, has at length made its appearance in this city. Its character for originality and variety is fully sustained. If the South do not support this periodical, we shall let the abolitionists say hard things of them In welcome. — New Yorker.