of conversation; adds beauty and interest to a picture; sets in a new and higher position a book or other work of literature or art; puts a man, whose name perhaps had always been familiar, on a higher vantage-ground; and enlightens us in a manner which, in respect to intellectual things, is almost like adding one to our fiye senses.

We are particularly impressed with the value of the present collection, as one which furnishes incidents, both interesting and instructive, adapted to enlighten and gratify, in all intelligent circles. Under its various topics, the volume condenses and presents a fund of that valuable knowledge which, from time to time, had been dropped into the great, fathomless sea of the newspapers, and soon laid aside and forgotten. Items of extreme interest, in the realms of history, literature and science, often find their way into the public prints, in unpretending paragraphs, perhaps in the columns where things really valuable would be least expected. They make a temporary impression. They are eagerly seized and treasured up by a few. But, generally, they soon vanish from the memory even of those who are most gratified by them. To preserve these choice items in a form worthy of their merits is a great and good work, deserving the gratitude of every friend of letters. Hitherto most of them have shared a fate less honorable than that of Hans Egede's Latin Dictionary, which was carried off by a Greenlander, and its precious leaves sowed together to form a gala cloak.

Several literary persons have had the wisdom to see the meritoriousness of labors of this kind, in times gone by. Hence it is that we have had various anecdotical works. Many years ago, a collection of religious anecdotes in two volumes was edited in Boston by the Rev. William Collier, entitled "Evangelicana." More recently the American Tract Society has published in a small volume "Anecdotes for the Family." We have also had selections of anecdotes of a less general character, to illustrate certain principles, or to elucidate portions of the Holy Scriptures; as, anecdotes founded on the ten commandments, or on the successive petitions of the Lord's prayer. Works have also been printed, of the nature of extended anecdote, teaching, by a series of facts in history or biography, important and valuable truths. Of this class is the "Biography of Self-taught Men," in two volumes. To the same class of works belong the acts of illustrious men, last hours of the dying, collections of brief memoirs, and the like. Above all, is that never-failing fund of incidents, to which Mr. Arvine's volume most nearly approaches-we mean D'Israeli's "Curiosi

ties of Literature." The later volumes of the same indefatigable collection, as the "Amenities of Literature," and others, are equally known and as highly prized.

There is no end to the materials for such a work. They are strewed, multiform and boundless, through the whole circuit of our reading. Scarcely a day occurs, but some new and sparkling drops are added. Now, the old receptacles are reexamined, and choice gems are found, which had escaped the notice of previous collectors. Now, incidents which had been forgotten are launched again upon the sea of facts, and excite the same admiration and delight in us as they did in our ancestors. Now, fresh contributions, springing out of our own times, are added to the long list of past wonders, as rare and as brilliant as any former ages could boast. There is, therefore, no end to such a work, and to the additions that may be made to it. When it is finished, it is not perfect. However full it may be, some things are left out. Much that has escaped the eye of the editor, or that has come into circulation since he ended his labors, is equally worthy of a place. The moment that he has finished a volume, he might begin a new one. The completion of a number paves the way for the opening of a fresh one, to which equal interest and value might be communicated. It is as when a fertilizing rain has fallen in summer upon the thirsty fields. No sooner has the sun come out again in his beauty, than the process of evaporation begins anew, and the materials for another shower are drawn up, to be poured down again in their season. Probably, a thousand scrap-books, in various parts of the land, culled by curious virtuosi out of the cast-off newspapers, would furnish numberless incidents, by which this or any similar volume could be immensely enriched. For example, in glancing over the anecdotes, under the head of anagrams, we missed perhaps the best that was ever made, which we preserved many years ago from some ephemeral sheet. It is the question of Pilate to Christ when he stood at his bar-" Quid est veritas?" (What is truth?) which has been thus anagrammized-"Est vir qui adest." (It is the man before you.)

The anecdotes in this volume are in number about three thousand. Occasionally, not often, we meet with a duplicate. The topics are endlessly diversified, but they are arranged in alphabetical order. The most important may be loosely generalized as follows: Antiquities and Literary Relics, Authors, Biography, Books, Chirography, Conversation, Criticism, Dictionaries, Drama, Education, Eloquence, Engravers, Epitaphs, Fiction, Frauds, Friendships, Grammar, History, Libraries,

Literary Men, Manuscripts, Memory, Music, Newspapers, Painting, Poetry, &c. Under each head is a great number of subdivisions; for example, under Authors, eighteen; Drama, twenty; Music, eighteen; Poetry, thirty; Painting, thirtyfive. Under each subdivision there is a luxuriant fund of incidents, which one never tires in perusing. The chief drawback to the pleasure of such a work is, that the reader is ever deploring that he can retain so little of what he reads. Amid such an ocean of facts, we feel our weakness. Dr. Johnson, having heard Hawkesworth's Ode on Life but three times, had committed the whole of it. Scaliger could repeat a hundred verses of the Greek Testament after once reading them. When the works of Labienus were burned by the executioner, Cassius Severus, who was present, cried out that they must burn him also, for he had the contents of all the books in his memory. But, to retain only a few interesting incidents, alas how destitute is the memory of most men, either of adequate capacity or of tenacious force!

In what remains of this article, we will digest, under three or four heads, a few thoughts which have been suggested to us in perusing it.

The volume abounds in curious and interesting information, extending to almost every branch of literature, science and art. True it is, that this kind of information is not essential to a man's usefulness in the world, or to his intellectual culture, or to his fitness to engage in any of the employments of life. But it is of great value, considered as a means of adorning conversation; as a means of rendering one an interesting and acceptable companion; as a means of enabling a man to shed light on every topic which comes up for discussion in the ordinary intercourse of literary society. Our eyes have rested on various passages which bear on this point, in different parts of the work. On the subject of books, we are told that Scott was employed thirty-three years on his Commentary. The marginal references alone, it is said, cost him seven years of severe labor. Caryll's Commentary on Job numbered twentyfour hundred folio pages. The first edition was republished in twelve quarto volumes. He apologizes, in this republication, for curtailing the book some few lines, not more than would fill a single quarto page-because, he says, "these lines did not relate to the exposition." Wickliffe was such a voluminous writer that Lubinio Lepus, bishop of Prague, burned two hundred of his works, and after that a great many were left. Lope de Vega said of himself, that he wrote five sheets a day, on an average; which, reckoning the length of his life,

amounted to one hundred and thirty-three thousand sheets. In 1643, Newman's Concordance, usually called the Cambridge Concordance, was published. He revised this book after he had settled at Rehoboth, in America, using pine-knots to light him in the night, instead of candles. This latter fact is rich in instruction. How many persons who meet fewer inconveniences imagine their literary life a life of hardship! But if the heart be in the business, and the student be a true lover of learning, we see through what difficulties he will learn to struggle.

In the section on books, we find some interesting statements on the fate of books:

"In a work published in 1822, it is said there are 1,000 books published per annum in Great Britain, on 600 of which there is a commercial loss, on 200 no gain, on 100 a trifling gain, and only on 100 any considerable profit; 750 are forgotten within the year, another 100 in two years, another 100 in three years, not more than 50 survive seven years, and scarcely 10 are thought of after twenty years. Of the 50,000 books published in the seventeenth century, not fifty are now in estimation. And of the 80,000 published in the eighteenth century, not more than three hundred are considered worth re-printing, and not more than 500 are sought after in 1822. Since the first writings, 1,400 years before Christ, i. e. in thirty-two centuries, only about 500 works of writers of all nations have sustained themselves against the devouring influence of time."

If such was the small number of books destined to immortality thirty years ago, what can be anticipated of the flood which sweeps over the land to-day?

As we have alluded to the subject of conversation, a few notices on the conversational powers of different persons of distinction will not be out of place. Tasso's conversation, it is said, was neither gay nor brilliant. Dante was taciturn or satirical. Milton was noted for being unsocial. Swift was absent-minded in company. Virgil and La Fontaine were both heavy in social intercourse. Dryden says of himself, "My conversation is slow and dull; my humor saturnine and reserved." Buffon was equally unable to shine in this department. It has been affirmed that "keen conversationists have rarely proved themselves the abler writers." Cowley was embarrassed, and Descartes was silent in mixed company. The conversation of Pierre Corneille was so insipid, that it never failed of being wearisome. Addison, among his intimate friends, was charming; but with any mixture of strangers, he grew stiff and dignified. It was said of Goldsmith, that "he wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll." Johnson, on the contrary, stood at the head of the list of those who shone in conversation in that brilliant age. Gibbon and Fox met at

Lausanne, and talked a whole day, and their conversation never flagged. Grotius was talkative, but thoughtful. The conversation of Coleridge was remarkably rich and instructive. The same was true of Fisher Ames; also, of Stuart, the American painter.

The requisites to this attainment are various. A sufficient degree of boldness and self-possession, a retentive memory, much thought and reading, and a great deal of practice, are among the principal. It is a great attainment to talk more of topics than of persons, and to imbue the mind with stores of facts, such as are adapted to render conversation interesting and instructive. It is in part a gift of nature; but it may be greatly improved by pains-taking effort. We may say of it, as of a polished elocution-all men are not born orators; but by unwearied patience and hearty effort any man may make himself a pleasant and acceptable speaker. So a person, naturally diffident and taciturn, by well-directed endeavor and the necessary cultivation, may render himself an agreeable companion; nay, such that in many circles he will be prepared even to shine. To talk well, one must have something to talk about. To have something to talk about which is worth the time and breath, one must have cultivated his mind in as many directions as possible. He must labor to have a store of facts laid up in a tenacious memory, and to add continually to the stock from every possible source. In conversation he must aim to use the facts thus acquired. The hold which we have of interesting incidents, and their availableness, is very much increased by communicating them to others. By the friction of conversation, new thoughts are often struck out, as sparks from the collision of flint and steel. New items of knowledge are acquired. Things already known assume new aspects of beauty and clearness; and new relations are discovered among them. The contact of mind with mind brightens each. And every hour spent in conversation of a high tone, of broad intellectual grade-conversation which illuminates and teaches, is so much added to a man's true culture.

This is not a thing of small moment. Every man of culti vated mind, every person who reads this Review, probably spends not less than one hour in every twenty-four, on an average, in conversation. This is a very small proportion; when we consider the daily intercourse of every family circle, the calls of visitors, the evenings passed in the society of friends, the time allotted to conversation on journeys, on our daily walks, and on the Sabbath and other days of comparative leisure, instead of putting the average at one hour in the