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NORTH CAROLINA.-There are cheering returns from the Old North State. From ten counties the sum of $2436 56 has been reported. Efforts will be renewed to canvass every county; and if the friends of the Association exhibit hereafter the same spirit they have already manifested, a noble addition to the Fund may be expected.

SOUTH CAROLINA.-Charleston

has added to her already lib-
eral contributions,

Of which there were received
from the Irish Volunteers,
commanded by Capt. Ma-
greth, $101. This is the
third military company in
Charleston that has respond-
ed to the call of patriotism.
The pupils of the High School,
under the charge of Mr.
Brun, have contributed
$127; and Mr. Hammond, a
per centage of the receipts
of the Mount Vernon ice
cream Saloon during one
week, of $25.

$306

GEORGIA. The Empire State of the South first raised her standard in the cause, and has continued her efforts with unremitted zeal. Among the laborers within her borders, the first and foremost in point of results, is the Savannah Association. The Ladies of Savannah have taken the matter in hand, with an enthusiasm, which, aided by their business tact, has fully sustained their name for liberality and patriotism. Mrs. Grant has reported the

collections received at a meeting of the Savannah Association, on the 20th of February, 1854,

From the Liberty Association,

Total,

$1308 00 118 28 $1426 28 ALABAMA. The signs are promising in this State. Madam Le Vert, of Mobile, a lady whose genius and social accomplishments have made her name familiar on both sides of the Atlantic, is devoting herself to the cause, and under such auspices, with the eloquent Yancey in the lead, there can not be such a word as fail.

Madame Le Vert has determined to contribute a per centage of the sale of her work, 'Souvenirs of Travel," to the

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MISSISSIPPI. The organization of this State is commenced under circumstances which give an earnest of material aid.

Mr. George Gerger, of Jacksonville, has been appointed Knight of the Order of Mount Vernon, and Treasurer of the State.

CALIFORNIA.-In San Francisco an appeal for the Mount Vernon Association has been made, and there is no reason to doubt a speedy and satisfactory response.

MISSOURI. During the Summer interregnum, there has been, in a great measure, a suspension of effort, but in October there will be renewed and united exertions in behalf of the cause. At the Agricultural State Exhibition at St. Louis, a Fair will be held by the ladies, in aid of the funds of the Association, and the result of the zeal of the friends of the enterprise on this occasion will be hereaf ter reported.

KENTUCKY.-Mrs. Dr. Richardson, of Louisville, has been appointed Vice-President for this State, and a speedy organization is anticipated.

TENNESSEE.-At Nashville, collectors have been appointed in each ward, and Mrs. Francis Brinly Fogg reports the partial receipts from two wards, of $200. VIRGINIA.-Contributions have been received from Richmond,

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$24.00

17.00

5.00

$46.00

Preparations are in progress for concerted action in behalf of the Mount Vernon purchase, during the exhibition of the Agricultural Fair, when Mr. Eve

rett has been invited to visit Richmond and repeat his Oration on Washington.

An opportunity will thus be given to the citizens of the State to hear this matchless orator and patriot, and it is confidently hoped that they will embrace it, and by the munificence of their offering, secure Mount Vernon, and place Virginia where she should ever be, foremost in all that is noble, generous and patriotic.

The time for a general and united action has come, and the evidences are, that on the 22d Febuary next, Mount Vernon will be transferred to the charge of Virginia. It only requires a little effort, a little exercise of self-denial, a mere presentation of the objects and claims of the Association to carry them out speedily and successfully.

In every county of every State, there are men and women who are willing and anxious to add their amount of labor and money to the cause, but who are deterred

from manifesting their interest by fear of failure or indisposition to take part in any public proceeding. Of failure there need be no fear. The accomplishment of the purposes of the Association is inevitable, and the only question is one of time. Long ago the Tomb of Washington should have been a national shrine, and longer delay in its purchase would cast a deep and lasting stigma upon our day and generation. Let those who have heretofore withheld their contributions and been idlers in the cause come forward now and help the Association to complete at an early day its holy and patriotic labors. All that is asked is, that the people of the land will carry out their own wishes and do what they themselves desire. If this were done, Mt. Vernon could be purchased at once.

SUSAN L. PELLET, Cor. Sec'y
Mt. Vernon Association.
RICHMOND, Sept. 28, 1857.

Notices of New Works.

THE POETICAL WORKS OF LEIGH HUNT. Edited by S. ADAMS LEE. Two Volumes, 18 mo. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1857. [From A. Morris, 97 Main Street.

A very dainty little edition of a delicious poet, whose gentleness of heart, sparkling fancy, bouyancy of spirit, and delicacy of sentiment have given to his writings a popularity in America enjoyed by few of the Liberal School of versitiers. Leigh Hunt is a republican in feeling, but unlike most of the minstrels of freedom, there is no moroseness in his nature-not one drop of bitterness mingles with the bright waters which gush forth from the fountains of his sensibility. At the age of seventy-three he retains undiminished the intellectual fervour of his youthful days, and seems yet to live within the radiance of that pure light which "lies about us in our infancy."

The publishers of these volumes have happily adopted the "blue and gold" as the style most appropriate for Leigh Hunt's Poems. Or upon azure is good heraldry for a poet whose verses reflect the light of summer skies, and whose pictures

shine with the golden tinges of the autumnal forest. The volumes are prefaced by some well-conceived remarks of the Editor on the genius of the poet, and a long but very pleasant letter from the old gentleman himself, in which he attributes (absurdly enough, we think,) the favour with which his verses have been received in this country to the circumstance that his mother was born in Philadelphia -a fact which we will venture to say not one in fifty of his American admirers ever knew before.

The following is one of the most graceful of the minor poems in this collection, and the reader will see how felicitously the author "points a moral" in narrating a a legend

THE INEVITABLE.

INSCRIBED TO JOHN FORSTER.

FORSTER, whose voice can speak of awe so well,

And stern disclosures, new and terrible, This were a tale, iny friend, for thee to

tell.

Seek for it, then, in some old book; but take

Meantime this version, for the writer's sake.

The royal sage, lord of the Magic Ring, Solomon, once upon a morn in Spring, By Cedron, in his garden's rosiest walk, Was pacing with a pleasant guest in talk, When they beheld, approaching, but with

face

Yet undiscern'd, a stranger in the place.

How he came there, what wanted, who could be,

How dared, unusher'd, beard such privacy, Whether 'twas some great Spirit of the Ring,

And, if so, why he should thus daunt the king,

(For the ring's master, after one sharp

gaze,

Stood waiting, more in trouble than amaze,) All this the courtier would have asked; but fear

Palsied his utterance, as the man drew

near.

The stranger seemed (to judge him by his dress)

One of mean sort, a dweller with distress, Or some poor pilgrim; but the steps he took

Belied it with strange greatness; and his look

Open'd a page in a tremendous book.

He wore a cowl, from under which there shone,

Full on the guest, and on the guest alone, A face, not of the earth, half veil'd in gloom

And radiance, but with eyes like lamps of doom,

Which, ever as they came, before them sent Rebuke, and staggering, and astonishment, With sense of change, and worse of change to be,

Sore sighing, and extreme anxiety,

And feebleness, and faintness, and moist brow,

The past a scoff, the future crying "Now!" All that makes wet the pores, and lifts the

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Solomon wish'd, and the man vanish'd.

Straight

Up comes the terror, with his orbs of fate.

"Solomon," with a lofty voice said he, "How came that mau here, wasting time with thee?

I was to fetch him, ere the close of day. From the remotest mountain of Cathay."

Solomon said, bowing him to the ground. "Angel of Death, there will the man be found."

Very sweet and flowing are the translations from the old bards of Greece and Rome and the poets of France and Italy given in the second volume of this edition. The following "Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard" from the Latin will serve as an example

WE the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us,

Stolen sweets are always sweeter, Stolen kisses much completer, Stolen looks are nice in chapels, Stolen, stolen be your apples.

When to bed the world are bobbing, Then's the time for orchard robbing; Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling Were it not for stealing, stealing.

To the critical reader of Leigh Hunt's poetry we think it will appear that much of the effect of his versification is due to the happy selection of his language in respect of its music, quite apart from the idea designed to be conveyed, for the manner in which the vowel sounds are varied so as not to fatigue the most sensitive ear, is really wonderful. Let the reader repeat aloud to himself these lines on May and June, and he will no doubt readily apprehend our meaning:

May, the jade, with her fresh cheek
And the love the bards bespeak,
May, by coming first in sight,
Half defrauds thee of thy right;
For her best is shared by thee
With a wealthier potency,
So that thou dost bring us in
A sort of May time masculine,
Fit for action or for rest,
As the luxury seems the best,
Bearding now the morning breeze,
Or in love with paths of trees,
Or dispos'd, full length, to lie
With a hand-enshaded eye
On thy warm and golden slopes,
Basker in the butter-cups,
Listening with nice distant ears

To the shepherd's clapping shears,
Or the next field's laughing play
In the happy wars of hay,

While its perfume breathes all over,
Or the bean comes fine, or clover.
O, could I walk round the earth,
With a heart to share my mirth,
With a look to love me ever,
Thoughtful much, but sullen never,
I could be content to see
June and no variety,

Loitering here, and living there,
With a book and frugal fare,
With a finer gipsy time,
And a cuckoo in the clime,
Work at morn, and mirth at noon,
And sleep beneath the sacred moon.

Certainly there is a great deal of melody in this passage derived from the alternation of the sounds of A, E, I, O. U, and Y.

Let us thank Mr. Lee and the worthy Boston Publishers for giving us such a pleasant opportunity of forming or renewing an acquaintance with the cheery and gentle Leigh Hunt.

SOUVENIRS OF TRAVEL. By MADAME OCTAVIA WALTON LE VERT. In Two Volumes. New York: S. H. Goetzel and Company. 1857. [From the Publishers.

The flourish of trumpets with which this work is introduced to the reader's favor by the publishers, in the opening pages of the First Volume, we conceive to be in wretched taste, since there is no earthly reason why the work of a very beautiful, accomplished and gentle lady of fashion, accustomed to move in the most distinguished circles and so forth, should be received with any more consideration than the Diary of a modest governess who might have had the good fortune to visit Europe, and the industry to tell us of what she had seen there. Madame Le Vert has long been admired for the graces of her person and character, and is well known as the leader of society in one of the most charming cities of the South, but to predicate a gracious reception of her "Souvenirs of Travel" upon this fact and upon her associations with great people is mere flunkeyism. One other matter is not to our liking, in limine. Why does our gifted author style herself" Madame Le Vert?" She is the grand-daughter of one of those illustrious men whose signatures are appended to the Declaration of Independence, and she is justly proud of this lineage ;-is there any good reason why a woman of Georgia should adopt a French appelative? "Mrs. Le Vert" would have appeared to us far more becoming.

These "Souvenirs of Travel" in themselves are informed by a charming enthusiasm and a perennial gayety of heart which inspire the reader with a kindly feeling for the author. Her European journeyings seem to have been the flight of a happy and beautiful butterfly from flower to flower in an enchanted garden. Perpetual sunshine brightens Madame Le Vert's pathway. Her good-humour is never tinged by melancholy nor chilled by disappointment. It is positively delightful to travel with so joyous a companion, one so universally receptive, so determined to see nothing disagreeable by the way. It is also a privilege to be made acquainted with so many elegant men and superb women as figure in her descriptions. Madame Le Vert is presented to the Queen; she meets Dukes, Marquises, Earls, Viscounts and Barons; she sees Freiligrath, Tennyson, Douglas Jerrold, the Howitts, the Brownings, and other eminent literary people; she has an interview with the Pope-and all have a kind word for her-how could they help saying pleasant things to, and bestowing fragrant benedictions upon, a lady uniting so many lovely traits of character as Madame Le Vert? Even inanimate objects were glad to oblige her. We are rejoiced to know that Vesuvius went into eruption, and that the blood of St. Januarius liquefied, at her coming. But we tremble to think what merciless comments those ungallant fellows of the London literary press will make upon the rosy pictures of high life given in the pages devoted to England. The style of Madame Le Vert's volumes is flowing and lady-like. There is altogether too large a draft on Byron, and occasionally we remark an unimportant error which is yet able to disfigure the composition. Shenstone, let us say to her, did not write the sparkling little verses in which occurs the conceit of

How noiseless falls the foot of Time That only treads on flowers!

"Sir

It was William Robert Spencer. George Head, author of the capital book 'A Bundle of French Faggots,"" we presume was meant for Sir Francis Head who wrote a "Faggot of French Sticks." The "Dodd Family" is not one of Mr. Thackeray's novels-Mr. Charles Lever is responsible for that performance.

The following little sketch, which places the real gentleness of Madame Le Vert's nature before the reader, and gives at the same time a good notion of her graceful style, is all we can quote from her volumes

SAINT AGATA, May 8th. Ah! Mamma, we have left bewitching Naples, but I can't say I am ready to die after having seen it; rather would I wish

to live, that I may remember its enchant

ments.

A pleasant little incident attended our departure, which I must tell you. Last night, until after two, we were on the mountain, and as we came down, it was very dark. A little boy about ten years old, clothed in rags, ran before the horses to light up the road. After passing the 'Witches' Cave,' there was no more danger of toppling o'er the precipice,' and we directed the courier to take the child in the barouche, and stow him away under the feet of the coachman; whereupon the courier and coachman declared it was needless to do so, as a lazzaroni boy was accustomed to all kinds of fatigue and hardship. By the expiring flame of the torch, I saw the wearied face and appealing eyes of the little creature, and commanded them to take him up. They reluctantly did so, muttering at the mistaken kindness of the Signora, which they deemed sadly wasted upon such an atom of creation.

When we reached the hotel the child was asleep, and the coachman threw him out as one would do a little puppy, while he shook his rags and prepared to run off. M. D. called him, and gave him a five franc piece, when he turned to me, saying, 'Please, good Signora, tell me what this is; I never saw SO much money before.' There was such a look of intelligence in his countenance, that, after he was gone, I questioned the coachman about him, who looked incredulously at me, that it was possible to feel an interest in a vagrant like him. However, as I asked, he told me that many years ago he had discovered this child was in the habit of creeping into his stable and sleeping upon the hay every night. Catching him there morning, he inquired where he came from, and the boy answered that he had never known a father or mother, and his first remembrance was crawling about the streets near our coachman's stable, and after dark stealing in there. His only food had been bones thrown him by the other beggars, who passed from successful forays upon the neighbouring kitchens. As he had no name, he gave him that of Rafaello, and permission to sleep with the horses; and when the child grew larger, he permitted him to rub the horses, and to hold torches for the carriage, when he drove up the mountain at night.

one

"Poor little being! no human creature to care for him!" I involuntarily cried. The coachman shrugged his shoulders as he said, "Bah! Signora! why should you care?-it is the fate of these lazzaroni. They are born in the streets, they live in the streets, (never sleeping under the roof of a house during all their lives) and they die in the streets-then are thrown into a deep hole, like a dog."

The lustrous eyes of Rafaello really haunted me all night, and his pitiable story was often in my mind. Immediately after breakfast we entered our vettura, and drove away from the hotel. As we turned the corner, we heard a voice calling out, "Stop! Stop!" Supposing we had left some of our property in the apartments, we stopped; when little Rafaello ran up to the side of the carriage, exclaiming, “Pray, Signora, make them open the door." This was done, when the child sprang up on the step and said, "Please let me kiss your hand; you are the first and only person who ever spoke one kind word to poor Rafaello." Then seizing my hand, he kissed it several times, and pressed it to his little throbbing heart, then jumped down, and disappeared from our side in an instant.

You may well imagine how this affected me, and how the tears poured from my eyes, as I vainly called him back. Never to have heard but one kind word! and that only the common expression of sympathy, that I would give to a cat or dog 1 saw trampled upon and abused. And the child, too, Mamma, was beautiful, as I looked at him standing on the steps of the carriage. His features were classically regular, his mouth exquisite, and his jetblack hair matted in close curls around his head. The glowing and radiant expression of soul and feeling which lighted up his face can never be forgotten. I am sure this child is of noble blood, possibly the offspring of an unhallowed love, too fervid and daring for the conventionalities of the world, and whom the fear of shame and disgrace has actuated to this cruel act of inhumanity, in yielding up the creature of their passion to a living death.

THE SOUTHERN SPEAKER. Or Sixth Reader, &c., &c., &c. By D. BARTON Ross. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co. 1857. [From James Woodhouse, 137 Main Street.

This is a valuable compilation by a competent hand of the master-pieces of English Oratory, in Prose, Poetry, and Dialogue, for the use of Schools, but it is not by any means what a "Southern Speaker" should be. The fault we have to find with the compiler is, that he has not made a sufficiently wide selection from Southern writers. A work of this kind, designed for the instruction of Southern youth, should not only be entirely free from the poison of anti-slavery, but it should give the student some adequate idea of what the South has done in literature. Our children should not be permitted to grow up in the belief that the intellectual wealth of the Southern States is inferior to that of New England,

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