physical and Ethical Science to the Evidences of Religion.

Mr. Bowen is also the author of several volumes of American Biography in Mr. Sparks's series, including Lives of Sir William Phipps, Baron Steuben, James Otis, and General Benjamin Lincoln.

In 1853 Mr. Bowen accepted the chair at Harvard, of Natural Theology, Moral Philosophy, and Political Economy.

JOHN MILTON MACKIE,

THE author of a life of Leibnitz and other works, was born in 1813, in Wareham, Plymouth county, Massachusetts. He was educated at Brown University, where he was graduated in 1832, and where he was subsequently a tutor from 1834 to 1838.

His writings, in their scholarship, variety, and spirit, exhibit the accomplished man of letters. In 1845 he published a Life of Godfrey William Von Leibnitz, on the basis of the German work of Dr. G. E. Guhrauer. This was followed in 1848 by a contribution to American history in a volume of Mr. Sparks's series of biography, a Life of Samuel Gorton, one of the first settlers in Warwick, Rhode Island.

J. Milton Muckin

In 1855 Mr. Mackie published a volume of clever sketches, the result of a portion of a European tour, entitled Cosas de España; or, Going to Madrid via Barcelona. It was a successful work in a field where several American travellers, as Irving, Mackenzie, Cushing, Wallis, and others, have gathered distinguished laurels. Mr. Mackie treats the objects of his tour with graphic, descriptive talent, and a happy vein of individual humor.

A number of select review articles indicate the author's line of studies, which, however, include a wider field of research. To the North American

he has contributed papers on the Autobiography of Heinrich Steffens (vol. 57); Gervinus's History of German Literature (vol. 58); Professor Gammell's Life of Roger Williams (vol. 61). To the American Whig Review, The Life and Writings of Job Durfee (vol. 7); The Revolution in Germany in 1848 (vol. 8); and The Principles of the Administration of Washington (vol. 10). To vol. 8 of the Christian Review, an article on M. Guizot on European Civilization.

Mr. Mackie has been a contributor to Putnam's Magazine, where, in December, 1854, he published a noticeable article entitled "Forty Days in a Western Hotel."

HOLIDAYS AT BARCELONA-FROM COSAS DE ESPAÑA.

Spanish life is pretty well filled up with holidays. The country is under the protection of a better-filled calendar of saints than any in Christendom, Italy, perhaps, excepted. But these guardians do not keep watch and ward for naught: they have each their "solid day" annually set apart for them, or, at least, their afternoon, wherein to receive adoration and tribute money. The poor Spaniard is kept nearly half the year on his knees. His prayers cost him his pesetas, too; for, neither the saints will intercede nor the priests will absolve, except for cash. But his time spent in ceremonies, the Spaniard counts as no

as verses.

thing. The fewer days the laborer has to work, the happier is he. These are the dull prose of an existence essentially poetic. On holidays, on the contrary, the life of the lowest classes runs as smoothly If the poor man's porron only be well filled with wine, he can trust to luck and the saints for a roll of bread and a few onions. Free from care, he likes, three days in the week, to put on his bestmore likely, his only bib-and-tucker-and go to mass, instead of field or wharf duty. He is well pleased at the gorgeous ceremonies of his venerable mother-church: at the sight of street processions, with crucifix and sacramental canopy, and priests in cloth of purple and of gold. The spectacle also of the gay promenading, the music, the parade and mimic show of war, the free theatres, the bull-fights, the streets hung with tapestry, and the town hall's front adorned with a flaming full length of Isabella the Second-these constitute the brilliant passages in the epic of his life. Taking no thought for the morrow after the holiday, he is wiser than a philosopher, and enjoys the golden hours as they fly. Indeed, he can well afford to do so; for, in his sunny land of corn and wine, the common necessaries of life are procured with almost as little toil as in the breadfruit islands of the Pacific.

All the Spaniard's holidays are religious festivals. There is no Fourth of July in his year. His mirth, accordingly, is not independent and profane, like the Yankee's. Being more accustomed also to playtime, It is in he is less tempted to fill it up with excesses. the order of his holiday to go, first of all, to church; and a certain air of religious decorum is carried along into all the succeeding amusements. Neither is his the restless, capering enjoyment of the Frenchman, who begins and ends his holidays with dancing; nor the chattering hilarity of the Italian, who goes beside himself over a few roasted chestnuts and a monkey. The Spaniard wears a somewhat graver face. His happiness requires less muscular movement. To stand wrapped in his cloak, statue-like, in the public square; to sit on sunny bank, or beneath shady bower, is about as much activity as suits his dignity. Only the sound of castanets can draw him from his propriety; and the steps of the fandango work his brain up to intoxication. Spanish festaltime, accordingly, is like the hazy, dreamy, voluptuous days of the Indian summer, when the air is as full of calm as it is of splendor, and when the pulses of Nature beat full, but feverless.

The holiday is easily filled up with pleasures. The peasant has no more to do than to throw back his head upon the turf, and tantalize his dissolving mouth by holding over it the purple clusters, torn from overhanging branches. The beggar lies down against a wall, and counts into the hand of his companion the pennies they have to spend together during the day-unconscious the while that the sand of half its hours has already run out The villagebeauty twines roses in her hair, and looks out of the window, happy to see the gay-jacketed youngsters go smirking and ogling by. The belles of the town lean over their flower balconies, chatting with neighbors, and raining glances on the throng of admirers who promenade below. Town and country wear their holiday attire with graceful, tranquil joy. Only from the cafés of the one, and the ventorillos of the other, may perchance be heard the sounds of revelry; where the guitar is thrummed with a gaiety not heard in serenades; where the violin leads youthful feet a round of pleasures, too fast for sureness of footing; and where the claque of the castanets rings out merrily above laugh and song, firing the heart with passions which comport not well with Castilian gravity.

CHARLES F. BRIGGS.

He has

MR. BRIGGS is a native of Nantucket. been for many years a resident of the city of New York, and has been during the greater part of the period connected with the periodical press.

In 1845 he commenced the Broadway Journal with the late Edgar A. Poe, by whom it was continued after Mr. Briggs's retirement.

Mr. Briggs has also been connected with the Evening Mirror. He published in this journal a series of letters, chiefly on the literary affectations of the day, written in a vein of humorous extravaganza, and purporting to be from the pen of Fernando Mendez Pinto.

In 1839 he published a novel, The Adventures of Harry Franco, a Tale of the Great Panic. This was followed by The Haunted Merchant, 1843, and The Trippings of Tom Pepper, or the Results of Romancing, 1847. The scene of these novels is laid in the city of New York at the present day. They present a humorous picture of various phases of city life, and frequently display the satirical vein of the writer.

Mr. Briggs is the author of a number of felicitous humorous tales and sketches, contributed to the Knickerbocker and other magazines. He has also written a few poetical pieces, several of which have appeared in Putnam's Monthly Magazine, with which he has been connected as editor. Others are published in a choice volume of selections, Seaweeds from the Shores of Nantucket.

One of his most successful productions is a little story, published in pamphlet form, with the title, Working a Passage; or, Life in a Liner. It gives an account of a voyage to Liverpool in the literal vein of a description from the forecastle.

AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET-FROM LIFE IN A LINER.

Among the luxuries which the captain had provided for himself and passengers was a fine green turtle, which was not likely to suffer from exposure to salt water, so it was reserved, until all the pigs, and sheep, and poultry had been eaten. A few days before we arrived, it was determined to kill the turtle and have a feast the next day. Our cabin gentlemen had been long enough deprived of fresh meats to make them cast liquorish glances towards their hard-skinned friend, and there was a great smacking of lips the day before he was killed. As I walked aft occasionally I heard them congratulating themselves on their prospective turtle-soup and forcemeat balls; and one of them, to heighten the luxury of the feast, ate nothing but a dry biscuit for twentyfour hours, that he might be able to devour his full share of the unctuous compound. It was to be a gala day with them; and though it was not champagne day, that falling on Saturday and this on Friday, they agreed to have champagne a day in advance, that nothing should be wanting to give a finish to their turtle. It happened to be a rougher day than usual when the turtle was cooked, but they had become too well used to the motion of the ship to mind that. It happened to be my turn at the wheel the hour before dinner, and I had the tantalizing misery of hearing them laughing and talking about their turtle, while I was hungry from want of dry bread and salt meat. I had resolutely kept my thoughts from the cabin during all the passage but once, and now I found my ideas clustering round a tureen of turtle in spite of all my philosophy. Confound them, if they had gone out of my hearing with their exulting smacks, I would not have envied their soup, but

their hungry glee so excited my imagination that I could see nothing through the glazing of the binnacle but a white plate with a slice of lemon on the rim, a loaf of delicate bread, a silver spoon, a napkin, two or three wine glasses of different hues and shapes, and a water goblet clustering around it, and a stream of black, thick, and fragrant turtle pouring into the plate. By and by it was four bells; they dined at three. And all the gentlemen, with the captain at their head, darted below into the cabin, where their mirth increased when they caught sight of the soup plates. "Hurry with the soup, steward," roared the captain. "Coming, sir," replied the steward. The cook opened the door of his galley, and out came the delicious steam of the turtle, such as people often inhale, and step across the street of a hot afternoon to avoid, as they pass by Delmonico's in South William Street. Then came the steward with a large covered tureen in his hand, towards the cabin gangway. I forgot the ship for a moment in looking at this precious cargo, the wheel slipped from my hands. the ship broached to with a sudden jerk, the steward had got only one foot upon the stairs, when this unexpected motion threw him off his balance and down he went by the run, the tureen slipped from his hands, and part of its contents flew into the lee scuppers, and the balance followed him in his fall.

I laughed outright. I enjoyed the turtle a thousand times more than I should have done if I had eaten the whole of it. But I was forced to restrain my mirth, for the next moment the steward ran upon deck, followed by the captain in a furious rage, threatening if he caught him to throw him overboard. Not a spoonful of the soup had been left in the coppers, for the steward had taken it all away at once to keep it warm. In about an hour afterwards the passengers came upon deck, looking more sober than I had seen them since we left Liverpool. They had dined upon cold ham.

WITHOUT AND WITHIN.

My coachman in the moonlight, there,
Looks through the side-light of the door;
I hear him with his brethren swear,
As I could do-but only more.
Flattening his nose against the pane,
He envies me my brilliant lot,
And blows his aching fists in vain,
And wishes me a place more hot.
He sees me to the supper go,

A silken wonder by my side,
Bare arms, bare shoulders, and a row
Of flounces, for the door too wide.
He thinks how happy is my arm
'Neath its white-gloved and jewelled loal,
And wishes me some dreadful harm,
Hearing the merry corks explode.
Meanwhile I inly curse the bore
Of hunting still the same old coon,
And envy him, outside the door,
In golden quiets of the moon.
The winter wind is not so cold

As the bright smiles he sees me win,
Nor our host's oldest wine so old
As our poor gabble-watery-thin.
I envy him the ungyved prance
By which his freezing feet he warms,
And drag my lady's chains and dance
The galley slave of dreary forms.
O! could he have my share of din

And I his quiet!-past a doubt
"Twould still be one man bored within,
And just another bored without.

ceives truth in its relation to individual character, and he takes little pleasure in the view of facts unless in their connexion with a permanent whole. Hence what his writings sometimes lose in immediate effect, they gain on an after perusal. His productions pass readily from the review or magazine to the book.

Taking his writings in the order of publication, they commenced with a collection of essays, tales, and sketches in 1835, entitled The Italian Sketch Book, which has since been enlarged in a second and third edition. With many of the author's subsequent productions, it took a favorable view of the Italian character, when it was the fashion to undervalue it. Among other novelties in its sketches, it contained an account of the little Republic of San Marino. The prominent topics of the country, as they occur to a man of education, were presented in a picturesque manner. After the author's return from a second Italian tour, he published in 1839 Isabel, or Sicily a Pilgrimage, in which with a thin disguise of fiction, allowing the introduction of sentiment, discussion, and story, the peculiar features of the island, in its natural beauties and its remains of art, are exhibited. After a considerable interval, another volume of travel appeared, the result of a visit to England in 1853. It is entitled A Month in England. Mr. Tuckerman has also published in the magazines a few chapters of a similar memorial of France on the same tour. Like the former works, they are books of association rather than of mere daily observation. The author while abroad studies character as it is expressed in men and institutions making what he sees subordinate to what he thinks. In the volume on England, there is a graphic and humorous description of the universal reception of Mrs. Stowe's book during the Uncle Tom mania, which shows a capability his readers might wish to have had oftener exercised, of presenting the exciting events of the day.

In 1846 a volume, the first of his collections from the magazines, Thoughts on the Poets, was published in New York. It contained articles on some of the masters of the Italian school, and the chiof English poets of the nineteenth century, with two American subjects in Drake and Bryant. The critical treatment is acute and kindly, reaching its end by an ingenious track of speculation. This was followed by a series of home studies, Artist Life, or Sketches of American Painters; the materials of which were drawn in several instances from facts communicated by the artists themselves. They are studies of character, in which the artist and his work illustrate each other. The selection of subjects ranges from West to Leutze. The sketches are written con amore, with a keen appreciation of the unworldly, romantic, ideal life of the artist. Picturesque points are eagerly embraced. There is a delicate affection to the theme which adapts itself to each artist and his art. The paper on Huntington, in particular, has this sympathetic feeling. With these sketches of "Artist Life," may be appropriately connected, A Memorial of Horatio Greenough, prefixed to a selection from the sculptor's writings, and published in 1853. It brings into view the writer's Italian experiences, his personal friendship, and is a tasteful record of the man and of his art.

In 1849 and '51 Mr. Tuckerman published two series of papers, which he entitled, Characteristics of Literature illustrated by the Genius of Distinguished Men. The types of character which he selected, and the favorites of his reading and study whom he took for their living portraiture, show the extent and refinement of his tastes. In choosing Sir Thomas Browne and Horne Tooke for his philosophers, he was guided by love for the poetical and curious. He delicately discriminated between the Humorist and the Dilettante in Charles Lamb and Shenstone. Hazlitt was his Critic; Beckford, with his refined writing, love of art, and poetical adventure, was "picked man" of Travel; Steele his good-natured Censor; Burke his Rhetorician; Akenside his Scholar; Swift his Wit; Humboldt his Naturalist; Talfourd his Dramatist; Channing his Moralist; and Edward Everett his Orator. In all this we may perceive a leaning to the quiet and amiable, the order of finished excellence of thoroughbred men. Widely scattered as these twenty-two papers were in the periodical literature of the country when they first appeared, they indicate the careful and tasteful literary labor with which Mr. Tuckerman has served the public in the culture of its thought and affections. The tempting power of the critic has never led him aside to wound a contemporary interest, or thwart a rival author. He has written in the large and liberal spirit of a genuine scholar. While mentioning these claims as a literary critic, we may refer to a genial and comprehensive Sketch of American Literature, in a series of chapters appended to Shaw's "English Literature," reprinted as a text-book for academies.

In a similar classification of a more general nature, out of the range of literature, Mr. Tuckerman has published a series of Mental Portraits, or Studies of Character, in which Boone represents the Pioneer; Lafitte, the Financier; Korner, the Youthful Hero; Giacomo Leopardi, the Sceptical Genius; and Gouverneur Morris, the Civilian.

In this choice of topics, Mr. Tuckerman has latterly been frequently directed to American subjects of an historical interest. Besides his elaborate papers on the artists and authors of the country, he has written, among other sketches of the kind, A Life of Commodore Silas Talbot, of the American navy,* and an appreciative article in a recent number of the North American Review,t on the personal character and public services of De Witt Clinton.

The Optimist, a Collection of Essays, published in 1850, exhibits the author in a highly agreeable light. In an easy Horatian spirit, he runs over the usual means and ends of the world, throwing a keen glance at popular notions of living, which destroy life itself; and gathering up eagerly, with the art of a man whose experience has taught him to economize the legitimate sources of pleasure within his reach, every help to cheerfulness and refinement. Some of these essays are picturesque, and show considerable ingenuity; all exhibit a thoughtful study of the times.

From a still more individual private view of life, are The Leaves from the Diary of a Dreamer, delicately published in 1853 by Pickering in London,

Published by J. C. Riker, New York, 1850. + Oct., 1854.