REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.

CLEMENT FALCONER: OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG WHIG. Two Volumes. N. Hickman, Baltimore.

"Clement Falconer" is a political novel, and the emanation of a violent partisan; the members of the various circles in the great arena of politics are introduced under names which scarcely constitute an alias; and the great executive, the kitchen cabinet, and other leaders of the democratic party, are handled with unlimited severity. We have nothing to do with politica, and the literary portion of the work demands but little notice. It is pleasantly written, with scarcely any pretensions to plot. The hero goes to college, falls in love, is elected to Congress, and, after one session's probation, during which he fights two duels, he marries the object of his love, and the book concludes.

The author has not chosen to reveal his name. We have our suspicions that a distinguished lawyer, novelist, and member of congress, on the shores of the Potomac, knows something about its concoction; there is, occasionally a dash of description worthy of his pen; vide the following, which is quite in his style, and well worthy our reader's attention. It exhibits a picture of successful industry and perseverance of a cheering nature to our young friends who are not blessed with a large share of the aurum potabile.

Mr. Crabbe entered his office late one evening, after having passed from the grave to the gay, in his usual manner at the table of a friend, and throwing himself into his own chair, "Clem," said he, "lay aside that book, and let us talk." And the volume being deposited on the table, he continued: "I have turned out of my office a number of very clever, and a few very distinguished men, and whether you are to go in advance of your predecessors, or to fall behind them, must depend, in some measure, upon nature to be sure, but mainly upon yourself. I was sitting in this place one morning in the fall of the year, when in stepped a long, lank, limber young Yankee. His cane was thrown over his shoulder, from which depended down his back a bandana handkerchief, containing all the worldly goods and clothes he possessed besides those he had on. He wore a slouched beaver, a thread-bare coat, lines pantaloons, and coarse shoes, and had travelled afoot from the mountains of New Hampshire, on his way to the west. But it had occurred to him that morning, as he said, that before he arrived in the new States, he would like to study the law, and requested permission to begin his studies forthwith, in my office, desiring me to state, at the same time, what was the customary student's fee in these parts. Somewhat startled at the apparition, I had thoughts at first of not receiving him; but there was something in the quiet determination of his eye, and the confident business air with which he threw down his bundle, and opened the subject of his wishes, and still more in the hardy enterprise and firmness of purpose implied in the whole conduct of the young man, that pleased me exceedingly, and I told him that he was welcome to the use of my books, and to such aid as I could afford him in the prosecution of his studies. That my charge for those young gentlemen who were able to pay me conveniently, was one hundred dollars per annura; but those who could not afford this expenditure, I willingly received without charge. He replied that he had no money, and could only say, that after he should be qualified to practise, and had got into business, which he hoped he would not be long in doing, he would remit my fee from the west. He set in accordingly, paying his board, and providing himself with clothing, by taking a class of young men, to whom he gave instruction at nights, in Latin and Greek, and was never absent from the office one day for three years, at which time he was admitted to the bar. He now again took up his cane and bundle, continued his tramp over the mountains, and sat himself down in the then territory of Indiana, whence he remitted me, in small sums, from time to time, the whole amount of my fee. I wrote to him, declaring that I was unwilling to receive his money, and hoping that he would consider me satisfied; but he insisted upon paying me every farthing. And that man is now a senator in Congress from the west, building up a wellearned fame among the Amphyctyons of the Union."

NARRATIVE OF ARTHUR GORDON PYM, OF NANTUCKET. Comprising the Details of a Mutiny and atrocious butchery on board the American brig Grampus, on her way to the South seas, in the month of June, 1827. With an Account of the recapture of the vessel by the survivers; their shipwreck and subsequent horrible Sufferings from Famine; their Deliverance by means of the British schooner Jane Guy; the brief Cruise of this latter vessel in the Antarctic Ocean; her Capture, and the Massacre of her Crew among a group of islands, in the eighty fourth parallel of southern latitude: together with the incredible Adventures and Discoveries, sall farther South, to which that distressing calamity gave rise. New York. Harper and Brothers.

An Indian warrior pursuing a flying tory, seized his foe by the tail of his peruke, and drew his scalping knife for the purpose of consummating his victory, but the artificial head covering of the British soldier came off in the struggle, and the bald headed owner ran away unhurt, leaving the surprised Indian in possession of the easily acquired trophy. After gazing at the singular and apparently unnatural formation, he dashed it to the ground in disdain, and quietly exclaimed "A d-d lie!" We find ourselves in the same predicament with the volume before us; we imagined, from various discrepancies and other errors discovered in a casual glance, sufficient also to convince us of the faulty construction and poorness of style, that we had met

with a proper subject for our critical scalping-knife-but a steady perusal of the whole book compelled us to throw it away in contempt, with an exclamation very similar to the natural phrase of the Indian. A more impudent attempt at humbugging the public has never been exercised; the voyages of Gulliver were politically satirical, and the adventures of Munchausen, the acknowledged caricature of a celebrated traveller. Sindbad the sailor, Peter Wilkins, and Moore's Utopia, are confessedly works of imagination; but Arthur Gordon Pym puts forth a series of travels outraging possibility, and coolly requires his insulted readers to believe his ipse dixit, although he confesses that the early portions of his precious effusion were published in the Southern Literary Messenger as a story written by the editor, Mr. Poe, because he believed that the public at large would pronounce his adventures to be " an impudent fiction." Mr. Poe, if not the author of Pym's book, is at least responsible for its publication, for it is stated in the preface that Mr. Poe assured the author that the shrewdness and common sense of the public would give it a chance of being received as truth. We regret to find Mr. Poe's name in connexion with such a mass of ignorance and effrontery.

The title of the work serves as a full index of the contents. The "incredible adventures and discoveries" in the Antarctic ocean conclude somewhat abruptly; the surviving voyageurs, Pym and a half-breed Indian, are left, madly careering, in a frail bark canoe, in a strong current, running due south, in the immediate vicinity of the Pole-volcanoes bursting from the "milky depths of the ocean," showers of white ashes covering the boat and its inmates, and a limitless cataract " rolling silently into the sea from some immense rampart in the heavens, whose summit was utterly lost in the dimness and the distance." Two or three of the final chapters are supposed to be mislaid; therefore, we have no account of the escape of Arthur Gordon Pym from the irresistible embraces of the cataract to his snuggery at New York.

There is nothing original in the description of the newly discovered islands in the Antarctic sea, unless we except the scene wherein a few ambushed savages precipitate more than a million tons of soft rock from the hill side, by merely pulling at a few strong cords of grape vine attached to some stakes driven in the ground. The shipwreck is unnecessarily horrible-a rapid succession of improbabilities destroys the interest of the reader, and the writer's evident ignorance in all nautical matters forbids the possibility of belief. We are told that when his boat, sloop-rigged, carrying a mainsail and jib, lost her mast close off by the board, he boomed along before the wind, under the jib, and shipping seas over the counter! A cabin boy of a month's standing would have been ashamed of such a phrase! Then, we hear of a ship sailing over a boat in a gale of wind, and hooking one of the boatmen by a copper bolt in her bottom-the said bolt having gone through the back part of the neck, between two sinews, and out just below the right ear! The body was discovered by the mate of the ship, when the vessel gave an immense lurch to windward! and was eventually obtained after several ineffectual efforts, during the lurches of the ship-and, notwithstanding its long immersion and peculiar transfixion, was restored to life, and proved to be the hero of the tale, Arthur Gordon Pym.

The mutiny is rather a common place mutiny; but Pym's secretion in the hold is a matter of positive impro bability. No Yankee captain of a whaler ever packed his oil casks in such a careless manner as described by the veracious A. G. P., who, by the way, sleeps a nap of three days and three nights duration, “at the very least."

The annexed description of the river waters of the Antarctic isles is a fair specimen of the outrageous statements which "the shrewdness and good sense of the public" are required to believe.

At every step we took inland the conviction forced itself upon us that we were in a country differing essentially from any hitherto visited by civilized men. We saw nothing with which we had been formerly conversant. The trees resembled no growth of either the torrid, the temperate, or the northern frigid zones, and were altogether unlike those of the lower southern latitudes we had already traversed. The very rocks were novel in their mass, their color and their stratification; and the streams themselves, utterly incredible as it may appear, had so little in common with those of other climates, that we were scrupulous of tasting them, and, indeed, had difficulty in bringing ourselves to believe that their qualities were purely those of nature. At a small brook which crossed our path (the first we had reached) Too-wit and his attendants halted to drink. On account of the singular character of the water, we refused to taste it, supposing it to be polluted; and it was not until some time afterward we came to understand that such was the appearance of the streams throughout the whole group. I am at a loss to give a distinct idea of the nature of this liquid, and cannot do so without many words. Although it flowed with rapidity in all declivities where common water would do so, yet never, except when falling in a cascade, had it the customary appearance of limpidity. It was, nevertheless, in point of fact, as perfectly limpid as any limestone water in existence, the difference being only in appearance. At first sight, and especially in cases where little declivity was found, it hore resem blance, as regards consistency, to a thick infusion of gum Arabic in common water. But this was only the least remarkable of its extraordinary qualities. It was not colorless, nor was it of any one uniform colorpresenting to the eye, as it flowed, every possible shade of purple, like the hues of a changeable silk. This variation in shade was produced in a manner which excited as profound astonishment in the minds of our party as the mirror had done in the case of Too wit. Upon collecting a basinful and allowing it to settle thoroughly, we perceived that the whole mass of liquid was made up of a number of distinct veins, each of a distinct hue; that these veins did not commingle; and that their cohesion was perfect in regard to their own particles among themselves, and imperfect in regard to neighboring veins. Upon passing the blade of a knife athwart the veins, the water closed over it immediately, as with us, and also, in withdrawing it, all traces of the passage of the knife were instantly obliterated. If, however, the blade was passed down accurately between two veins, a perfect separation was effected, which the power of cohesion did not immediately rectify. The phenomena of this water formed the first definite link in that vast chain of apparent miracles with which I was destined to be at length encircled.

SKETCH OF THE POETICAL CHARACTER, AND (INCIDENTALLY) OF AUTHORSHIP IN GENERAL. By Samuel F. Glenn. Washington. W. Fischer.

The above is the title of a Lecture, read before a Literary and Debating Society, and since published in pamphlet form, of some sixteen pages. From the title which the pamphlet bears, we were led to expect a brief but graphic delineation and portraiture of the most striking characteristics of Poets and Authors of all kinds en masse. But as we have been greatly disappointed in our anticipations, by a farther acquaintance with its contents, which furnish us with a most singular and heterogeneous combination of ideas, either par tially or wholly inapplicable to the subject, and in which we can trace neither description, relation, argument, nor connection, we will examine a few passages for the satisfaction of others.

In his prefatory remarks, Mr. G. observes that "the subject and its connexions prevent his being diffusive." This would have been well said, had he told it to an audience who had read only the writings of one man, (Mr. G.'s, for instance,) but it is very inappropriate to publish such a sentence to an audience first, and then to the world, who, with one broad sweep of the memory, can gather into its remembrance the names of Shakspeare, Milton, Dryden, Byron, Scott, and a host of others, to say nothing of the classic authors, and who could not avoid detecting its falsity. What subject is more diffused and varied for an imaginative pen, than the one selected by Mr. G.? It combines all the variety of character, habits, feelings, fortunes, and fame, and yet he would pronounce it a barren subject! However, we will proceed in our investigation, and see whe ther our author has left it as he found it. The first grand principle or self-evident truth, from which he branches out, is this "The mind finds more real enjoyment in communion with itself, or, with other kindred minds, than in all the adulation which man can offer." In this hard wrought sentence, he very aptly "aims at nothing and hits it." The author will admit, upon a second thought, that he has committed a most flagrant metaphysical error in this sentence, which not only asserts a thing but denies it at the same time. The mind can form no comparison between "communion with kindred minds," and the act of receiving or giving" adulation," for they both imply one and the same thing. Therefore, the literal meaning of the sentence as it now stands, if it has any meaning, is this: The mind finds more real enjoyment in communion with itself or with kindred minds, than it can in communion with itself or with kindred minds!

"The inductive lessons to authorship, discover the interpolator in the gardens of Truth and Fancy, and many are left without even the shadow of a great name. Magni nominis umbra!!!"

"Guns, drums, trumpets, blunderbuss and thunder!" what a sentence to be distilled from his "alembic of sweets!" We are not in the habit of offering rewards, but, under present circumstances, we feel justified, for the purpose of advancing the interests of English literature, in offering a reward of $5,000, to any nation under heaven (Arabs and Esquimaux excluded,) that can solve the meaning of the above sentence. And in submitting it to their tribunal, we shall dismiss it altogether from our own mind, and proceed to the examination of some more (principles?) He next quotes some silly capers of Mrs. Butler, such as flourishing her father's sword out of the carriage window as it passed through the streets of Philadelphia, etc. etc, and adds, "why should I refuse her the dignity of quotation? to strengthen my argument, viz. that the evanescence of the spirit must have vent either by flourishing the inky fluid,' or playing romance in real life.'" We can find no language adequate to express the meaning of this sentence unless we call it jaw-breaker! "Evanescence of the spirit!" We rather suspect the author is endeavoring to introduce a system to have the mind evaporate and condens eaccording to the state of feeling, this hot weather; if so, we wish him all success-but if it be through ignorance that he confounds evancscence with effervescence, we advise him, before he takes another flighty tour, to tarry at Jericho a little longer.

Here comes something clothed in italics, which we suppose indicates a great concentration of argument, or at least condensation of thought, else, why should it be distinguished from the other type. Writers generally clothe their best thoughts in italics, in order to attract the mind and draw the attention to those points more than others; it is so in this case we suppose, so we will endeavor so show the author that he has not failed in this object at least. "Genius has not more faults than others, but the eminence on which she is placed makes her blue lights shine more vivid, and were they as pure as crystal the MICROSPIC eye of selfish malevolence will discern blemishes." As the showman said when exhibiting the ribbed-nose baboon, "This a rare specimen of the kind." We have heard of genius "getting blue" occasionally, and being sometimes troubled with the "blue devils," but these "blue lights of genius" form a new phrase in our idiomatic vocabulary, but we welcome it to the science of letters and cheerfully give full credit to its discoverer. Microspie is a word that we are unwilling to place in our vocabulary along side of "the blue lights of Genius," for various reasons, one of which is, it has no meaning; another is, we have a word to which this bears an air of similarity that is full of expressive meaning-these are two good reasons, and for two good reasons a man may commit suicide, therefore we reject the word. Again, the idea of forming a comparison between genius or mind and a 'crystal" is as ridiculous as it is absurd. No rule of criticism will justify such comparison.

"

Tangible and intangible objects when brought together in forming a comparison, must not clash either in harmony or sense. But in this comparison we find the harshest grating that the mind can bear, and yet derive no sense from it whatever. We assert that the author has sacrificed all sense and all harmony to the foolish whim of a corrupt and unrestrained imagination. Let us transfer it to canvas and see what kind of a picture it presents. Genius sitting on an eminence-her lights streaming from her in every direction, and like those

in Macbeth burning blue !-pure as crystal-away in the distance we see a microspic eye, watching with all the alertness of an Argus until it detects the "faults of genius," when it approaches and lays them at her feet for correction! All this strange figure of real and fictitious, tangible and intangible, material and immaterial, relate to the manner in which the mind shows itself in its actions and how the world is prone to detect its errors. Such bombastic and unmeaning expressions show plainly that the author had some idea in his mind that struck him as a forcible truth, and being deceived with it himself he undertook to array it in a language that could not fail to convince by its strength and verbosity. But we assure the author he has failed, and the sentence on which he placed so much hope, has left the idea nestling in his own mind, while the reader remains in darkness and conjecture, his mind unsatisfied and his taste disgusted.

The author vents a great deal of spleen against the idea of an acquired or scholastic education, and says "the mind exudes its natural strength in acquiring knowledge," but still he cannot give up his "classical partiali ties." A very tender and beautiful sentence he thus introduces in support of his doctrine: "When nature takes genius by the hand, she always conducts her pupil to the tender and the beautiful, and by a shorter road than the learned languages." The tender and beautiful!" a very soft, delicate sentiment, indeed; we fear it will not bear much handling. Here the author in his " vagary of genius," labors under the supposition (for it is evident he has no positive knowledge of it,) that the study of the ancient languages is merely a "road to the tender and beautiful," and because it is such a long road it is best not to travel it, but let nature direct a shorter course.

We opine the road is so long that the author never saw either end of it, notwithstanding his "classical partialities." The study of the languages is more particularly calculated to discipline the mind and furnish it with a fund of words. But it may be turned to many other important advantages. And we deem a knowledge of language an essential qualification for a poet or author of any kind, for nature may furnish ideas, but how can it express them? The author may bear in mind, when next he perpetrates such inflictions upon the public, that all men are not equal with himself for versatility of genius and volubility of language. From this point in his essay he concludes with a long criticism on critics. He charges them with “copying every careless paragraph, sentence or word, and giving their author notoriety through the columns of a newspaper, since the review does not suit the dignity of a magazine.” Now we assure the author that this review shall find its way through the pages of a magazine, more to suit the dignity of the subject and its writer than the review or the magazine. It is the critic's business to point out all defects in whatever form or wherever they may be found.

In conclusion we must say, in justice to the author, that there are some good and many well meant sentences in his essay, but as a whole we regard it as being entirely deficient, and unfit to appear before the public. The subject is one which is well calculated to inspire the mind with a flow of rich and dignified thought, gathering its strength and beauty from the characters it involves in its extent and variety. The poet is the high-priest of nature. His character unfolds a theme of delightful contemplation. His feelings, passions and sentiments are different from those of the rest of mankind. He possesses strong affections-liberal feelings— much sympathy, kindness and benevolence-his views are wider and loftier than those of others, and the constitution of his mind and heart seem different in nature from all else. The author might have drawn ingenious and interesting conclusions from a comparison of matter, style, strength, and subjects, together with the general public and social character of poets and authors. But he forms no contrast-draws no comparison-settles every thing without reference, and gives us what he terms a "sketch," of that which he has completely failed to touch. He modestly observes that he "submits these suggestions without any pretensions to more than what the title indicates." It is well that this sentence found its place in the introduction, else we might have read on, under the belief that we were reading an essay on nature, genius, language, and criticism. We do not wish to be harsh in our remarks, but we feel it due to the author to point out his errors without the least equivocation. And in failing to do this, we fail to do our duty. From a candid and serious examination of his essay, we find that it is ungrammatical, unconnected, irrelevant, ambiguous, verbose, and bombastic.

These are errors sufficient to condemn any writing, and particularly one that has been forced into public notice in so many different ways as this sketch has been. Grammatical errors are never permitted; a subject unconnected shows a want of taste and methodical arrangement; irrelevant and ambiguous sentences destroy all relish for the subject, and exhibit a want of information in their author, and verbosity and bombast are detestable. We conclude by recommending to the author-a careful perusal of Webster's Dictionary, Hedge's Logic, Blair's Lectures, and Kame's Elements of Criticism, with a hope that he will profit more by his stu dies than by all the fulsome criticisms that may be lavished on his own productions.

The foregoing criticism on Mr. Glenn's pamphlet was forwarded to us by a literary friend, a well known member of the editorial corps. We are not in the practice of giving insertion to "notices of books" by other hands than our own, but the wholesome nature of the above remarks demanded our notice; and being convinced of their justness and moderation, from a perusal of the arrogant affair under review, we readily accord publicity to our friend's critique. ED. G. M.

THE CLOCKMAKER; OR, THE SAYINGS AND DOINGS OF SAMUEL SLICK, OF SLICKVILLE. SECOND SERIES: One Vol. pp. 220. Carey, Lea, and Blanchard.

The first series of this singular work deservedly received the highest encomiums of the press, throughout the United States, Great Britain, and the British Colonies, in North America. Large editions were rapidly sold, and, without wasting our vocabulary of laudatory epithets, we are of opinion that the continuation is every way equal to its predecessor, if not eminently superior, The Clockmaker is more confident in the tone of his remarks, and takes a wider range of observation; nothing escapes the pungency of his satire, which, while it bites deeply and hits with unerring aim, is deprived of all bitterness by the potency of a quiet but irresistible humor, that pervades every sentence of the work. The author is said to be Thomas C. Haliburton, of Annapolis, Nova Scotia, a gentleman well known for his literary attainments and extensive knowledge of British colonial affairs. We believe that he is the author of a Historical and Statistical Account of Nova Scotia, a work of standard value and importance.

Samuel Slick, in a conversation with the supposed narrator of the Clock "Sayings and Doings," advises him to present a copy of their production to the British Colonial Minister, and demand, as a return, the office of governor. We ask him to speak for himself, because the subjoined quotation well describes the nature of the Yankee's elocution.

Says you, minister, says you, here's a work that will open your eyes a bit; it will give you considerable information on American matters, and that's a thing, I guess, none on you know a bit too much on. You ha'n't heerd so much truth, nor seen so pretty a book, this one while, I know. It gives the Yankees a considerable of a hacklin', and that ought to please you; it shampoos the English, and that ought to please the Yankees; and it does make a proper fool of blue nose, and that ought to please you both, because it shows it's a considerable of an impartial work.

We offer a few of Mr. Slick's remarks as guide-posts to some of our statesmen, in the course of their political whatever may be their tenets.

career,

Well, then, Mr. Buck, if you really will take my advice, I'll give it to you, said I, free-gratis for nothin'. Be honest, be consistent, be temperate; be rather the advocate of internal improvement than political change; of rational reform, but not organic alterations. Neither flatter the mob, nor flatter the government; support what is right, oppose what is wrong; what you think, speak; try to satisfy yourself, and not others; and if you are not popular, you will at least be respected; popularity lasts but a day, respect will descend as a heritage to your children.

Quitting the political portions of the work, we beg leave to present a few of the oddities scattered profusely over its pages.

In the latter eend of the year twenty-eight, I think it was, if my memory sarves me, I was in my little back studio to Slickville, with off coat, apron on, and sleeves up, as busy as a bee, abronzin' and gildin' of a clock case, when old Snow, the nigger-help, popped in his head in a most terrible of a conflustrigation, and says he, master, says he, if there a'n't Massa Governor and the Gineral at the door, as I'm alive! what on airth shall I say? Well, says I, they have caught me at a nonplush, that's sartain; but there's no help for it as I see-show 'em in. Mornin', says 1, gentlemen, how do you do? I am sorry, says I, I didn't know of this pleasure in time to have received you respectfully. You have taken me at a short, that's a fact; and the worst of it is-I can't shake hands along with you neither, for one hand, you see, is all covered with isle, and t'other with copper bronze. Don't mention it, Mr. Slick, said his excellency, I beg of you;—the fine arts do sometimes require detergants, and there is no help for it. But that's a most a beautiful thing, said he, you are adoin' of; may I presume to chatichise what it is? Why, said I, governor, that landscape on the right, with the great white two story house in it, havin' a washin' tub of apple sarce on one side, and a cart chock full of punkin pies on t'other, with the gold letters A. P. over it, is intended to represent this land of promise, our great country, Amerika; and the gold letters A. P. initialise it Airthly Paradise. Well, says he, who is that he one on the left?-I didn't intend them letters II and E to indicate he, at all, said I, tho' I see now they do; I guess I must alter that. That tall graceful figur', says I, with wings, carryin' a long Bowie knife in his right hand, and them smail winged figures in the rear, with little rifles, are angels emigratin' from heaven to this country. I and E means Heavinly Emigrants. It's alle—go-ry.—And a beautiful alle-go-ry it is.

Well, says he, at last, if there is one thing I hate more nor another it is that cussed mock modesty some galls have, pretendin' they don't know nothin'. It always shows they know too much. When I was down to Rhode Island larnin' bronzin', gildin', and sketchin' for the clock business, I worked at odd times for the Honorable Eli Wad, a foundationalist-a painting for him. A foundationalist, said I; what is that?-is it a religious sect? No, said he, it's a bottom maker. He only made bottoms, he didn't make arms and legs, and he sold these wooden bottoms to the chairmakers. He did 'em by a sarcular saw and a turnin' lathe, and he turned 'em off amazin' quick; he made a fortin' out of the invention, for he shipped 'em to every part of the Union. The select men objected to his sign of bottom maker; they said it didn't sound pretty, and he altered it to foundationalist. That was one cause the speck turned out so well, for every one that seed it a'most stopt to inquire what it meant, and it brought his patent into great vogue; many's the larf folks had over that sign, I tell you.

So, said he, when I had done, Slick, said he, you've a considerable of a knack with the brush, it would be a grand speck for you to go to Lowell and take off the factory ladies: you know what the women are-most all on 'em will want to have their likeness taken.