stimulate them to higher efforts. The distinguished authoress has given many good books to the world before; but we doubt whether she has ever produced one of higher promise or more substantial claims to the public regard than this.

HISTORY OF FRANCE, FROM THE EARLIEST PERIOD TO THE PRESENT TIME: BY M. MICHELET. New York: D. Appleton & Co.

This work is being published in a series of Nos. and has already reached the ninth. It is from the pen of one of the most distinguished of the French savans, and is regarded as high authority by the most able and erudite minds of the age. Though the translation is clear and we doubt not accurate, yet it preserves so much of the character of the original, that no one could ever mistake its French origin. It is beautifully printed, and though it comes out in Numbers, it has no aliance to the cheap and trashy publications of the day.

HARPERS FIAESIDE LIBRARY.

Three numbers of this work have already been published; two from the pen of Professor Alden, and one from the pen of Charles Burdett, Esq. They are got up in most exquisite style, and thus far, the work is of a highly interesting and useful character. The stories are ingeniously and beautifully constructed, and their moral tendency is such as the philanthropist and the Christian could desire.

CHAMBER'S CYCLOPEDIA OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Boston: Gould, Kendal & Lincoln.

This work which, in its republication in this country, has now reached its tenth number, consists of selections from all the most approved English writers from the beginning down to the present time, together with brief biographical sketches of the various authors. It gives one a birds-eye view of the whole field of English literature. It aims not only to select from the best writers, but to select the very best things which each has written. The work must have cost an immense amount of labor, but it was labor well be. stowed, and will no doubt have its reward in the improvement and the gratitude of many coming generations.

THE AMERICAN Review for MAY.

This work, from the commencement, has been sustained with great spirit and ability. It enlists in its support the talents not only of a highly accom. plished editor, but of many of the ablest pens in the country. In the present number the articles entitled "Shakspeare versus Sand," and "Religious union of Associationists," are written with much ability and will reward an attentive perusal.

EDITOR'S TABLE.

The new work, now offered to the public, is the offspring of warm hopes and the aspirant to distinguished merit. We invite for it the refreshing breeze of popular favor, so necessary to the peaceful existence of honorable worth and the promotion of high aims.

The American Magazine, like the American people, will be free and inde. pendent, showing proper respect to other Powers and desiring to establish with all friendly relations. We invoked, popular favor; we ask it, however, only as we may seem worthy. Our aim will be to aid in the promotion of sound literature. With this view, the highest talent is pledged for our suc cess. All our papers will of course be original.

The "Fable of the Fox and the Fish" came to us in the author's own hand, through the special favor of a friend. One or two more unpublished pieces may be expected from the same pen. Mr. Headley's article, given us in manuscript some weeks since, and soon to appear in the second volume of "Washington and his Generals," will be an acceptable foretaste of the feast soon to follow.

"Classic Vagaries," is the beginning of a series on Roman habits, &c., by a distinguished adept in Ancient Literature. These lively and vivid sketches will be to the scholar, like "apples of gold in pictures of silver." Raleigh "though dead yet speaketh." If his real appearance and character were such as are herein delineated by the artist and scholar, we need not wonder that he was the Queen's favorite.

"There is a history in all men's lives

Figuring the nature of the times deceased,
The which observed, a man may prophesy
With a near aim, the main chance of things
As yet not come to pass; which in their seeds
And weak beginnings lie entreasured."

A RELIC OF OLDEN TIME.

The following letter from the celebrated author of Macfingal, to one of his intimate friends, and a distinguished man in his time, has been put at our disposal by a friend, and we think can hardly fail to be read with deep interest.

DEAR SIR: As you expect me to repent and amend my ways, you look also, I suppose, that I should bring forth works meet for repentance, and that I shall as far as possible.

This same progress of Dullness is in the latest editions become one of the most serious, pious treatises on morals and divinity, that ever you set eyes on. I wrote it at first in a pretty free style, said humorous things where I could, and severe ones where I pleased; but I have so many serious folks at

my elbows, that they have made me alter almost half of it, throw out every stroke of humor, that in the least exaggerated the descriptions beyond truth, and lay aside every satirical reflection that had anything of my airs of impu dence and defiance it it. So that, on the whole, if it should be published, it will be thought as well-meaning and harmless a piece, as a halfway-cov'nant Dialogue. If it should not be made public, it is all one, I have another scheme for it-I intend to turn it into a sermon. If I can find a text in scrip. ture for it, very well-if not, I will make one. And I intend to preach it for my first sermon at Weathersfield, after I am ordained as a colleague with Mr. Lockwood; for Humphreys writes me that this affair is revealed to Mrs. May to happen in three years; so that I look upon it as certain. As soon as I am settled there I shall think best to marry one of the Miss know they say I am in love already, so that this matter is in some forwardness,)-this will doubtless produce such a coalition of parties in my favor, that as soon as I have time to turn Politician, I shall infallibly be sent representative of the town, as one of my brother Reverends once was before meI forget who.

(you

Well, I shall make such a noise in the assembly, that I shall very soon be made Governor of the Colony; especially as I design our present right hon. orable Jonathan Trumbull shall make me heir to his titles, when he diespolitically. Let me see-how high have I got?—to be Governor. Well, in in a few years after, we shall have occasion for a King or two in Americaand if I can get Mrs. May to prophesy again, I make no doubt of succeeding to the Crown-my most gracious Majesty, John, King of the Lord knows where I have not made my title yet-but I will have it ready soon enough -it shall run very sounding, and I will put Defender of the Faith at the end of it. If you will be so kind as to live till I am king, (it is the only condi. tion I ask,) you shall have your choice of all the posts of honor in the nation -Prime Minister, Archbishop of America, Lord High Admiral, Generalissimo of the Army, Lord Mayor of Weathersfield-what you please—for I intend to remember my old friends in my prosperity, and govern to universal satisfaction. I will be a second Sancho Panza in the Island Barataria; the world shall run upon wheels, and there shall be no need of the Millennium in my reign. Mr. Howe shall be one of the first ecclesiastical dignitaries, Dwight my Poet Laureat, J. Webb head of my East India company, Humphreys shall have the Presidency of this University, and the deuce may take O. W. And having thus disposed of all my friends and settled the affairs of the nation, I will bid this world farewell without ceremony, and leave all my Clergymen, Poets and Orators to say I am gone to a better There is a plan of operation for you-I know not how to get down from this high state, to tell you that I shall come to Weathersfield in May, and will bring with me this piece of mine for your perusal—and that, whether in quality of King, Priest, Poet or whatever, I am

Your obliged friend and humble servant,
JOHN TRUMBULL.

New-Haven, March 28th, 1772.
To Mr. Silas Deane.

ALL SORTS.

In olden days when this thin-peopled globe
Was quite unspoiled of its green mantled robe,
When new-born thought in primal freshness sprung,
And down the greenwood glen young Laughter rung;
The heart's rude thought outbroke in measur'd line,
And shun'd dull prose, untaught at Nature's shrine.
Thus Iceland's sons far off in polar climes
Outspoke in verse, in those good olden times.
Thus too, 'tis deem'd, most nations' young essays,
By fancy wrought, break forth in mellow lays.
So we, unschool'd in modern arts to please,
In our débût will rhyme along at ease;
It matters little sure what's pictured here,
This page for fashion, farce or right good cheer.
Yet we've indulg'd so long in solemn mood
While conning o'er our wholesome dish of food,
We fear we've lost the feeling jolly
And got a touch of melancholy.

Yet we'll whip up our idle muse
And jog along a little faster,
So pray kind reader don't refuse

To follow your so humble master.

Ah! we mistake! the final word
Just change to humble servant,
We tho't we were-you may have heard-
A PEDAGOGUE-O avaunt!-

Not that we shun the needy call
That dooms us for a teacher;
But that we dread the woful fall
Of wages-that's the feature.

Ah! what will ye who teach for hire,
When wrinkled, curved and olden,
Then" will ye to your homes retire,""
And drink from cups all golden?

Then fly! ye wights! to rural sports,
Haste back to trade or farming,
Your calling now but ill imports;
Your state is quite alarming.

"And who be ye that ill predict?"
Quoth one of richer blessings;
Ah! we be one a little trick'd,

Excuse our sad confessings.

Now, kind reader, if you will,
We'll give you a short ditty,
Some little hint or honest squint
At things about the city.

The song you'll see 's a pretty glee,
"Twill go in Yankee Doodle;
Tune up the voice, let woodland ring,
Join flute and mellow bugle.

Begin my song-Ye gentle swains
Who dwell in country rural,
Heed well your step-avoid the lanes
In this our city mural.

If you have money with you, pray,
By day, just pin your pocket;
If you have money left we say,
By night, sit up or lock it.

The auction flags that redly wave
You'll heed, or else get cheated,
The way to tell a friend or knave
Is by the way you're treated.
Your honest face is quickly known,
Though you are quite a stranger ;
When jewels bright are nearest shown,
Look out! for there is danger.

See you those wights that stand around,
With glass in hand a squinting

If imperfection may be found

In work? that's darkly hinting.

Then flee ye swains where honor reigns
To buy your jewell'd lever,

'Tis not in pride we say we've tried
A watch that ticketh never.

One word to friends, before we close,

Who come to stay or call,

To view us right, you'll chose a site

Quite near the City Hall.

Here Astor mocks the Grecian art,

A tow'ring granite pile,

Where fashion dwells and beaux and belles,

And all in brilliant style.

Now cross the way; for well we LOVE

To point the home of Joys;
For here you'll stay both night and day
With love that never cloys ;

You'll find good cheer and wine and beer,

And rooms that always glisten;

Plenty of rows of merry beaux

Without the belles to listen.