his cousin has come and immediately ran upon the deck to await the approaching party. There were pleasant, smiling faces all around, as the four men came over the sloop side; and, although the testimony is silent as to the fact, there might have been some kissing on the occasion. The new comer was in a rough dress, and had the exterior of a servant; and our skipper says, in his testimony, "that Mrs. Talbot spoke to him in the Irish language." Very volubly, I have no doubt, and that much was said that was never translated. When they came to a pause in this conversation, she told Skreene, by way of interpretation, "he need not be uneasy about the stranger's going on shore, nor delay any longer, as this person had made up his mind to go with them to Maryland." So the boat was made fast, the anchor weighed, the sails set, and the little sloop bent to the breeze and kissed the wave, as she rounded the headland and stood up the bay, with Col. George Talbot encircling with his arm his faithful wife, and with the gallant Murray sitting at his side. They had now an additional reason for caution against search-so Murray ordered the skipper to shape his course over to the Eastern Shore, and to keep in between the islands and the main. This is a broad eircuit outside of their course, but Roger is promised a reward by Mrs. Talbot to compensate him for his loss of time, and the skipper is very willing. They had fetched a compass, as the Scripture phrase is, to the shore of Dorcet county, and steered inside of Hooper's Island, into the mouth of Hungary river. Here it

was part of the scheme to dismiss the faithful Roger from further service. With this view they landed on the.Island, and went to Mr. Hooper's house, where they procured a supply of provisions, and, immediately afterwards, reimbarked--having clean forgotten Roger, until they were once more under full sail up the bay, and too far advanced to turn back. The deserted skipper bore his disappointment like a Christian, and being asked, on Hungary river, by a friend, who met him there, and who gave his testimony before the Council, "What brought him there?" he replied "he had been left on the island by Madam Talbot." And to another"Where Madam Talbot was,"-he answered, "she had gone up the bay to her own house." Then to a third question"How he expected his pay?" he said, "He was to have it of Col. Darnell and Major Sewell; and that Madam Talbot had promised him a hogshead of tobac co extra, for putting ashore at Hooper's Island." The last question was, "What news of Talbot?" and Roger's answer"He had not been within twenty miles of him; neither did he know any thing about the Colonel;" but on further discourse, he let fall that "he knew the Colonel never would come to a trial,"-"that he knew this, but neither man, woman, nor child, should know it, but those who knew it already." So Col. George Talbot is out of the hands of the proud Lord Effingham, and up the Bay with his wife and friends; and is buffeting the wintry head winds in a long voyage to the Elk river, which, in due time, he reaches in safety.

That precious crgan of the anti-slavery faction of the North-Putnam's Monthlyin a recent article on "Southern Literature" takes occasion to say many disparaging things of " our contemporary," the Southern Literary Messenger, which it becomes us duly to acknowledge. It is the first time, we believe, that this magazine has ever been honored by a notice beneath the pea-green covers of that learned and leaden publication, and we have reason to congratulate ourselves that it can speak of us only in terms of censure. "I should be very sorry, Mr. President," said John Randolph, in reply to an attack upon him in the Virginia Convention, "if the gentleman could admire me," and in like manner we can say that if Putnam's Monthly found in the Messenger anything to approve, we should regret it as affording the best evidence that we were no longer entitled to the patronage of the Southern public. It will be remembered that the complacent critic and scholar, who presides over Putnam's Monthly, availed himself of the orator's position at Wesleyan University last summer, to indulge in a ribald abuse of the Southern people and Southern society, which no one here could stoop to repel without a loss of selfrespect, and we are not surprised to see, from the last number of his work, that he thinks Daniel Webster to have been "a man of tolerable sense." We have nothing whatever in common with such a magazine. In religion, it follows the lead of the Westminster Review, and preaches at second hand the doctrines of a cloudy unbelief; in politics, it espouses the cause of a faction which aims at the dismemberment of the Union and tramples on the Constitution; in literature, it affects smartness rather than thoughtful or suggestive composition, and in striving to be brilliant does not escape being dull; and we are perfectly content to be considered its opposite, however different from our own may be the general estimate of its merits. If Putnam is national in tone, cath

olic in sentiment, conservative in doctrine, sparkling in belles-lettres, we desire the Messenger to be regarded as sectional, disorganizing, illiberal and stupid to the last degree.

The fifth Semi-Centennial anniversary of the Landing at Jamestown will occur on the 13th day of May next, and we are gratified to perceive that it is the inten tion of the Jamestown Society to celebrate the occasion on the spot rendered memorable by the event. A pilgrimage to the ancient site of Virginia's earliest capital, in the flowery month of May, will be a very pleasant affair, and the sight of the old ivy-crowned tower, the musical flow of the river by the mosscovered graves which evoked such eloquent musings from the meditative Wirt, and the thronging associations of the past which belong to the soil, must prove suggestive to the orator who shall speak to the assembled multitude. If the descendants of the Pilgrims crowd to the rock of Plymouth in the chill December to revive the recollections of the first set. tlement of New England, may we not expect the sons of the Old Dominion to gather together in goodly numbers around the crumbling brickwork of what once was Jamestown to commemorate their equally significant anniversary, when all nature invites them with the song of birds, the lapse of waters, and the genial sunshine? There are peculiar reasons which should induce them to observe the day. A spirit of sectional animosity in certain quarters has perverted history to malign the men who laid the foundations of this Colony, and the ancestors of Washington and Henry have been denounced as little better than adventurers, bankrupt of fortune and character: a just regard to historic truth no less than a proper reverence for a lofty race of progenitors should, therefore, impel Virginians, and the sons of Virginjans, to mark with

honour so imposing a division of time as half-a-century in the current of their existence, and thereby to render homage to the sturdy virtues which entered into the primitive organization of their society. We hope to hear of the selection of an Orator at an early day, and we could wish also that a Poet should be appointed to lend to the celebration the graces of song. For the latter office we nominate James Barron Hope, Esq.

A wag in London has brought out a capital travestie of Macaulay as a poet in the "Lays of Ancient Rome." Our readers will enjoy the drollery which we should attribute to Bon Gaultier were it not that the verses are in better humour than that satirical parodist generally displays. Every body remembers the splendid description of the Roman triumph in "The Prophecy of Capys."

A LAY OF LUNCHEON AT THE CRYSTAL

PALACE.

In the manner of T. B. M.

Hurrah for the long tables

That shine with many a glass!
Hurrah for the rich stout of" Meux,"
And the bright beer of "Bass!"
The chickens gay with parsley

Plucked from the coster's cart,

The crust set thick with strawberry jam,
That forms an open tart;
The pies of massive pastry,
The buns grown rather old,
The many-coloured salads bright,
With eggs and lobsters cold;
The soup that boils and bubbles,

The cheese that seems to creep;
Such dainties they who dwell in town
Shall here for ever reap.

Blest and thrice blest the Briton
Who sees this opening day!
Who sees the long, tumultuous train
Rush down the new railway.
Who, past that bustling platform
And through that desperate cram,
Reaches at last the glittering gates
Of Crystal Sydenham.

And where, o'er Thames' sweet waters,
The city churches frown;
Where the gigantic men of stone
On the "New road" look down;
Where powdered footmen loiter
Outside Regentine shops;

Where dirty housemaids trundle
Their dew-besprinkling mops;
Where tuneful milkmen wander,
Beneath the morning light;
Where bawling newsmen's echoes
Startle the listening Night;
Where "Hansom" whirls his idlers
To sweet suburban groves;
Where Cupid-struck policemen
Invoke their area loves;
Where Atlas piles his journeys

Far o'er the realms of "Bow"Shall be great fear on all who hear The mighty name of “Joe!”

The death of William Maxwell, Esq., has robbed the Virginia Historical Society of a zealous officer. Appropriate tributes to the worth of this lamented gentleman have already been rendered in the secular and religious journals; and the Rev. Mr. Hoge, in his admirable discourse before the Society, at its recent annual meeting, described, in feeling and eloquent terms, the sad solemnities of his funeral which were conducted just after the dreadful snow-storm of January. This passage, in which the rigors of the ininclement winter were made to heighten the mournfulness of the occasion reminded us of the account given by Macaulay of the obsequies of Queen Mary.

The office of Corresponding Secretary of the Historical Society left vacant by Mr. Maxwell's death, has not yet been filled. II. B. Grigsby, Esq., was chosen by the Executive Committee as the most fit person in the Commonwealth to discharge its duties, but he has been constrained by private considerations to decline the appointment. We trust a competent Secretary may soon be found, and that the operations of the Society, which had been somewhat retarded during Mr. Maxwell's declining years, may be vigorously resumed.

Our attention has been drawn by two esteemed correspondents, one a lady, to an error in a Sketch of William and Mary College, taken from Duyckincks "Cyclopædia of American Literature," and published in the Messenger for October, 1856. It was stated therein that President Mad

ison had received his education at Williamsburg, whereas he was a graduate of Nassau Hall College at Princeton, N. J. in which venerable institution his early studies were directed by the illustrious Witherspoon. The Whig Society of

Princeton justly cherishes the memory of Madison as one of the proudest associa tions of its past history and the College itself feels a natural proprietary interest in his fame.

THE RURAL POETRY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Illustrating the Seasons and Months of the Year. By JOSEPH WILLIAM JENKS, M. A. Lately Professor of Language in the Urbana University, Ohio. Boston: Published by John P. Jewett and Company, 1856. [From P. B. Price, Main Street.

Here is a handsome volume in royal octavo of more than five hundred pages, prettily bound in stamped muslin gilt, and embellished with some tolerable wood engravings. As it embraces selections from the whole range of the poets of England, it could hardly fail of being accep table, but we protest that the work is not what Mr. Joseph William Jenks, M. A., "Lately Professor of Language in the Urbana University, Ohio," would have us believe it to be-"The Rural Poetry of the English Language." The circumscribed vision of the late Professor of Language in the Urbana University, Ohio, may not have recognised any Southern or Western poets who have drawn their inspiration from rural objects, and yet there are such, and they have employed the English Language as the vehicle of their thoughts. So that when Mr. Jenks M. A., professes to give us a Compendium of all the Rural Poetry in our English Literature, and ignores the South and West altogether, he lays himself open to just criticism. We have in his volume repeated selections from Bryant, Longfellow, Holmes, Percival, Street, Whittier, Dawes-but it does not appear that Mr. Jenks, M. A., has ever heard of Simms, Wilde, Pinkney, Cooke, Meek, Prentice, "Amelia," Poe-indeed he no doubt holds to the Bostonian creed, that the South has produced nothing worth

embodying in any literary history. We would therefore advise our Ohio Master of Arts, when he publishes a second edition of his work, to give it the title of "The Rural Poetry of England and New England." This would be a true indication of its contents, and under such a name we might recommend our readers to visit Mr. Price's bookstore and provide themselves with a copy of it. As it is now heralded forth to us, we consider the volume an imposition.

DORÉ. By A STROLLER IN EUROPE. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1857. [From A. Morris, 97 Main Street.

"Doré means simply the difference be tween the inside and outside of things," says the author of this pleasant book of travels, but with respect we must say it means nothing of the sort, and it is the merest affectation to give the word such a meaning. Doré means gilded, it implies something or other that has been overlaid with a thin surface of gold leaf, and recollecting this signification, the title is not so bad after all, for the views of our "Stroller in Europe" seem to us somewhat superficial. This might be pardoned had he not given us to understand that the work is the result of his third visit to the Old World. But we are not disposed to quarrel with the author for a mere conceit, when he has placed us in his debt by many agreeable and spirited descriptions of French and German life and scenery. The Stroller" is a pleasing, well-informed, good-humoured gentleman, who tells a droll story none the less cleverly because it is not original, and his Doré is valuable, just as all

fresh books on Europe by sensible people are valuable, for recording the impressions made upon another witness. The style is lively, though at times inelegant, and is remarkable for no peculiar grace of its own, like that of Ik. Marvel, or the Roving Englishman.

CANNIBALS ALL; or Slaves without Musters. By GEORGE FITZHUGH, of Port Royal, Va. Richmond; A Morris,

1857. From the Publisher.

Another striking work from the author of "Sociology for the South," in which the tendencies of free society towards the enslavement of Labor by Capital are strongly developed. Mr. Fitzhugh is a man who speaks his sentiments freely and deals in few circumlocutions, and however we may differ with him upon certain points of his argument, we must aimit that the South owes him a large debt for the new views in which he has placed the question of domestic servitude before the world. He is the boldest and the ablest writer who has assumed the offensive in the Slavery discussion; and we may not wonder that the anti-slavery organs have turned upon him with all their force and attempted to elude, by the use of ridicule, the reasoning they are not able to answer. "Cannibals All" deserves, however, a much more extended notice than we can give it here and we hope to present hereafter a full review of it.

SONGS AND BALLADS. BY SIDNey Dyer. New York: Sheldon, Blakeman & Company. 1857.

Most of the pieces embraced in this volume were written for music, and the author has aimed in them rather at immediate popular effect than at the highest poetic excellence. His versification is graceful and easy, and there is a pathos in many of the ballads that touches the heart. Judged according to the best standards of lyrical composition, they do not take an elevated rank, for they want the fervour that must distinguish every such effort which is destined to live, but the praise must be awarded to Mr. Dyer of writing from his own nature, imitating nobody, and contributing to the gratification of a large social circle in a most agreeable way.

INQUIRE WITHIN, or 3700 Facts Worth Knowing. New York: Garrett, Dick & Fitzgerald, No. 18 Ann Street. 1857. [From G. M. West, under the Exchange Hotel.

It

A volume de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis, in which advice is given on an infinite variety of subjects, from the making of curry powder to the important and delicate matter of courtship. From sweethearts to sweetbreads, and from grammar to gravies, it ranges through the whole circle of the arts and sciences. teaches how to cut a coat or an acquaintance, how to cultivate a friendship or an artichoke, and would make every man his own cook, tailor, lawyer and metaphysician. It is however open to the objection brought by the old lady against the Dictionary, that there seemed to be a want of connection between the subjects.

IVORS. By the Author of "Amy Herbert," "Cleve Hall," &c. In Two Volumes. New York: D. Appleton and Company. 1857.

THE GOLDEN LEGACY: A Story of Life's Phases. By a Lady. Same Publishers. [From A. Morris, 97 Main St.

Miss Sewell's novels are so much alike and so generally known that we are not called upon to sit in critical judgment upon every new one that issues from the press. Ivors, which takes its name from the country residence where the story opens and in great part is carried on, seems to us neither better nor worse than its predecessors, and the admirers of Miss Sewell will derive from it the customary amount of gratification afforded by her writings.

"The Golden Legacy" demands a more speial examination as the work of a new hand and as coming from a wholly unknown quarter. The book derives its title from the bequest of a dying mother who leaves to her children the Heavenly precept written in characters of gold, "Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so to them." "Aunt Lottie"Mrs. Charlotte Thornton neé Atherton-who makes this golden rule the guide of her life, is a most attractive portraiture of goodness and virtue. She has a brother to whose patronage she commends a little boy, picked up by her in one of her rounds of charitable visiting, and subsequently