poetical character of Mrs. Welby's writings, there is a healthy tone of moral feeling and religious sentiment that pervades the whole she never, indeed, looks up to "the broad heaven of blue" above her, or "the green wood-waves beneath," without recogniz ing the power and the goodness of God in all-without translating the characters she sees, in letters of living light, impressed upon the heavens and the earth, into an eloquent defence of the Christian's faith and the Christian's hope.

"Each raging storm that wildly blows,
Each balmy gale that lifts the rose,
Sublimely grand, or softly fair,

They speak of Thee for Thou art there."

The characteristics of Mrs. Welby's poetry, we shall leave to the critic to determine. But to any casual observer it is evident that she possesses as fertile a fancy, as keen an appreciation of the beautiful, as much sentiment and feeling, as rich and full and flowing language, and as easy versification as any other poetess in America. She does not derive her poetical objects and her beautiful imagery from books: she has herself breathed the mountain air, and caught the inspiration of nature in her most glorious aspects. She has read "the burning stars" till their own light, "tremulously clear," has shown upon her spirit: she has listened to "the low lull of falling waters," and their music is in her soul: when the morn wakes upon the eastern hills, joy is in her heart; and sadness, when the beautiful things of earth are gone. But always, always we may be assured those who write thus, feel deeply their free thoughts, uncultured though they be, flow only from "the heart's deep fountain." But we are trespassing too far. Our object in noticing this book is, to present a few extracts for the judgment of our readers, in the hope that they will procure it, at their leisure, and read it all for themselves. We present below the lines to "The Rainbow," merely premising that in our humble judgment, they are not less beautiful than Campbell's lines upon the same subject, which have always been among the most admired productions of the gifted poet.

THE RAINBOW.

I sometimes have thoughts, in my loneliest hours,
That lie on my heart like the dew on the flowers,
Of a ramble I took, one bright afternoon,

When my heart was as light as a blossom in June:
The green earth was moist with the late fallen showers,
The breeze fluttered down and blew open the flowers,
While a single white cloud, to its haven of rest
On the white wing of peace, floated off in the west.

As I threw back my tresses to catch the cool breeze,
That scattered the raindrops and dimpled the seas,
Far up the blue sky, a fair rainbow unrolled
Its soft-tinted pinions of purple and gold.

'Twas born in a moment, yet, quick as its birth,
It had stretched to the uttermost ends of the earth,
And, fair as an angel, it floated as free

With a wing on the earth and a wing on the sea.

How calm was the ocean! how gentle its swell!
Like a woman's soft bosom it rose and it fell:
While its light sparkling waves, stealing laughingly o'er,
When they saw the fair rainbow, knelt down on the shore.
No sweet hymn ascended, no murmur of prayer,
Yet I felt that the spirit of worship was there,
And bent my young head in devotion and love,
'Neath the form of the angel, that floated above.

How wide was the sweep of its beautiful wings!
How boundless its circle! how radiant its rings!
If I looked on the sky, 'twas suspended in air;
If I looked on the ocean, the rainbow was there:
Thus forming a girdle, as brilliant and whole
As the thoughts of the rainbow that circled my soul.
Like the wing of the Deity calmly unfurled,

It bent from the cloud and encircled the world.

There are moments, I think, when the spirit receives
Whole volumes of thought on its unwritten leaves.
When the folds of the heart in a moment unclose
Like the innermost leaves from the heart of a rose.
And thus when the rainbow had passed from the sky,
The thoughts it awoke were too deep to pass by;
It left my full soul like the wing of a dove,
All fluttering with pleasure and fluttering with love,

I know that each moment of rapture or pain
But shortens the links in life's mystical chain:

I know that my form like that bow from the wave
Must pass from the earth and lie cold in the grave:
Yet O! when death's shadows my bosom encloud,
When I shrink at the thought of the coffin and shroud,
May Hope like the rainbow my spirit unfold

In her beautiful pinions of purple and gold.

Mrs. Welby writes upon subjects and in metres widely varying from each other, but she is invariably happy and elegant in all of them. We make a short extract from the lines

TO A SEA SHELL.

Shell of the bright sea waves!
What is it that we hear in thy sad moan?
Is this unceasing music all thine own?
Lute of the ocean caves!

Or does some spirit dwell

In the deep windings of thy chambers dim,
Breathing forever, in its mournful bymn,
Of ocean's anthem swell.

Wert thou a murmurer long
In crystal palaces beneath the seas.

Ere from the blue skies, thou had'st heard the breeze
Pour its full tide of song along?

Another thing with thee

Are there not gorgeous cities in the deep,
Buried with flashing gems that brightly sleep,
Hid by the mighty sea?

And say, O lone sea shell!

Are there not costly things and sweet perfumes
Scattered in waste o'er that sea gulf of tombs?
Hush thy low moan and tell."

In the lines to "The Freed Bird," which our space will not allow us to quote entire, we find some happy specimens of descriptive poetry. Take the following:

O'er yon river

The wing of silence, like a dream is laid,

And naught is heard, save where the woodboughs quiver,
Making rich spots of trembling light and shade.

The same again in the lines entitled "Musings," in which we think there is also a correspondence of sound and idea:

The waves came dancing o'er the sea

In bright and glittering bands:

Like little children, wild with glee,

They linked their dimpled hands

They linked their hands, but ere I caught

Their sprinkled drops of dew,

They kissed my feet, and, quick as thought,

Away the ripples flew.

The twilight hours, like birds, flew by,

As lightly and as free:

Ten thousand stars were in the sky,

Ten thousand on the sea:

For every wave with dimpled face,
That leaped upon the air,

Had caught a star in its embrace
And held it trembling there.

We quote in conclusion a single stanza from the address to "Time." We think it will compare in stately grandeur with Derzhaven's Invocation to God, or Campbell's Last Man. The similie, it strikes us, bears a resemblance to a much admired production of one of our greatest poets.

Even every heart-beat in the bosom's cell
Steals o'er the spirit like a funeral toll;
Each solemn stroke is like a passing bell,
Heard 'mid the hushes of the startled soul.
The waves of feeling, tossing to and fro,
Like ocean billows restless and sublime,
The crimson life-drops as they ebb and flow,
And the quick pulse with its unequal chime,

All beat with muffled strokes, the march of Time.

D. S.

LITERARY NOTICES.

THE SKETCHES-THREE TALES: I. WALTER LORIMER; II. THE EMBLEMS OF LIFE; III. THE LOST INHERITANCE. By the authors of Amy Herbert, The Old Man's Home, and Hawkstone. New York: D. Appleton & Co.

This work is certainly somewhat curious in its origin, as well as highly interesting in the manner of its execution. Its history is thus given in the advertisement prefixed to it: "It was suggested as a Christmas amusement, that one of a party should draw a series of sketches which the rest should severally interweave into some short story or description. Subsequently a proposal was made that a volume, so framed, should be published, with a view to increasing the funds for the erection of a church and schools at Bonchurch, in which all the contributors felt a common interest. The original plan has been faithfully adhered to: the engravings therefore are not illustrations of the letter press, but the letter press of the engravings." In this, so far as we know, unprece dented way, they have contrived to make up several tales of no inconsiderable spirit and beauty. The history of the book will procure for it readers; and of those who read most will approve, and many will admire.

NOTES ON THE GOSPELS, CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY, &c. By Melancthon N. Jacobus. New York: Robert Carter.

This work is specially designed as an auxiliary in the work of sabbath school instruction; being adapted alike for the benefit of teachers and of pupils. Its author has discovered equal good judgment and taste, and enough of critical skill for the successful accomplishment of the object which he has undertaken. The work is designed as an accompaniment of the questions for Sunday schools prepared by the American Sunday School Union, and it can hardly fail to find a ready patronage wherever those questions are used. It will not be limited in its circulation to sabbath schools, as it will be found a highly valuable work for every general reader of the scriptures.

A JOURNEY OVER THE REGION OF FULFILLED PROPHECY. By the Rev. J. A. Wylie. Dolear: Scotland. New York: Robert Carter.

This is a most taking little work, fitted to accomplish great good especially by confirming the faith of many in the divinity of the scriptures. The writer conducts us, as by a magic influence, through all those countries in whose history prophecy has had the most signal fulfilment; and his descriptions, though perfectly true to nature and life, have the bewitching charm of a romance. It requires but a couple of hours to go through the book; but simple and element.

ary as it is, it is hardly possible that the most mature Christian should read it without feeling a new degree of confidence that the religion in which he trusts stands on a basis that is impregnable.

THE MYSTERY OF GODLINESS. By Samuel L. Southard. New York: D. Appleton & Co.

These discourses are founded on the text-" Without controversy great is the mystery of Godliness," &c.; each clause of the entire verse forming the subject of a discourse. They are written in an animated and interesting style, well adapted to the pulpit; and the views of scripture truth which they contain will be cordially responded to by most Christian denominations. They are evidently the production of a superior mind, acting under the influence of an earnest and all-pervading piety. The style of typographical execution is admirable.

THE BIBLE HISTORY OF PRAYER; WITH PRACTICAL REFLECTIONS. By Charles A. Goodrich. Hartford: Printed for the Author.

Mr. Goodrich is well known to the public as the author of many excellent works, but we have no hesitation in expressing the opinion that this last will prove the best and the most enduring witness for him. It is just what its title imports-a history of all the devotions of God's people of which there is any inspired record. It is in the highest degree both an experimental and practical work; and is fitted to render the exercise at once more intelligent, earnest, frequent, delightful, and profitable. It is a book on which all Christians may well afford to unite, and to the circulation of which every minister of the gospel will find the strongest inducements to contribute as being adapted to aid the effects of his own ministrations.

IDA NORMAN: by Mrs. Lincoln Phelps. Baltimore, 1848.

The authoress of this interesting little volume, is well known to the American public by the valuable additions she has made to the number of text books for the use of schools and academies. In the work before us, she conveys, in a familiar conversational style, much useful instruction, in the form of a novel, specially adapted to the use of boarding school misses, and not unworthy the attention of all who would learn to bear, with fortitude, the ills of life, and be taught good morals and elegance of manners.