"THE CORSAIR.' Proposals have been issued for the publication of a weekly gazette 'of literature, dramatic news and criticism, fashion and novelty,' entitled as above, and to be under the direction of N. P. WILLIS and T. O. PORTER, Esquires. The first named gentleman, we are desired to state, will bring to the new journal not only the undivided aid of his own acknowledged talents and industry, but all the distinguished talent, domestic and foreign, which he has been enabled to direct to the columns of the periodical in which his own contributions have hitherto appeared, but with which he has recently relinquished all connection. Mr. PORTER is a gentleman of fine taste, and so far as we have had an opportunity of judging, holds an agreeable and graceful pen. There is a touch of sly satire, we have good reason for 'guessing,' in that portion of the prospectus which alludes to the immunities afforded the editors by the 'piratical law of copy-right;' for although it is their purpose to collect the spirit not only of the English, but of the French and German belles-lettres, yet we are informed it is equally their design to elicit their share of the current wit, humor, and literature of our own country. Unlike the ALBION one of the best weekly journals of English and foreign literature that is perused in the United States, and an indispensable work to general literary readers - the 'Corsair' will combine choice American effort, in liberal proportion with trans-Atlantic gatherings, including ample and impartial criticisms upon our drama, literature, arts, etc. In short, the editors propose to reap the 'harvest of event, wit, genius, and poetry,' at home as well as abroad; and we hazard little in predicting that they will do it successfully. At any rate, we desire for them a multitude of sheaves, and abundant stores of 'golden grain.' The first number of the work is soon to be issued, with distinguished beauty, it is hinted, in its externals of paper and printing.

SAINT NICHOLAS INTERLOPERS. - A veteran daily journalist, who 'knows all about it,' complains that the Saint Nicholas Society has 'very few of the old Dutch blood of the KNICKERBOCKERS among its supporters.' This must be the case; for the moderns are getting sadly out of the 'old paths.' Shade of Walter the Doubter! - no deliberation, no long smokings, and short speeches; but, contrariwise, long harangues, which, if pleasant to hear, are exceedingly hard to read, and all despatch in reporting proceedings for the papers! But DIEDRICH KNICKEKBOCKER will not desert them, while there is hope of amendment, and a return to the ancient ways, from which there have been backslidings; nay, though they misprint him in the daily journals, making nonsense of the toasts which he transmits to their annual festivals. We place on record the recent sentiment of our illustrious progenitor, with its accompanying note to the president, with the assurance that filial care hath been taken that no lapsus type should mar its benevolent intention:

'Ik hab gezeilt in myu schip genaamt 'die Goede Vrouw,' van Albanie aan di Nieuw-Nederlandts, ende hier ben ik gevangt in het ystegen over Kinderhook!

Vor Zekers. Ik ben bedroeft dat ik can niet middag met u eeten.
Sihenken u glassen ende drinken. Oranje boven. Ik blyve u getrouwr Vriend,


'SOIREES MUSICALES.' We are glad to perceive that Mr. C. E. HORN proposes giving six concerts, or 'soirées musicales,' on Thursday of each alternate week, during the ensuing three months. The object of these performances is to present to the admirers of classical music an opportunity of hearing the works of HANDEL, HAYDN, MOZART, SPOHR, ROSSINI, etc.; and the terms and arrangements are such as cannot fail to render them sociable and select. These may be ascertained, and tickets secured, at the music stores, and at the beautiful 'Repository of Arts' of Messrs. DAVIS AND HORN, 411 Broadway. The first concert will take place on Thursday, the fourteenth of February.

ORIGINAL POEM BY JOEL BARLOW.-The following are extracts from an original poem, by JOEL BARLOW, author of the 'Columbiad,' written in May, 1782, and enclosed in a letter to the widow of Hon. CHIEF JUSTICE HOSMER, of Connecticut, then recently deceased. The poem is entitled, 'An Elegy on the late Honorable TITUS HOSMER, one of the Counsellors of the State of Connecticut, a Member of Congress, and a Judge of the Maritime Court of Appeals for the United States of America.' The style of the entire production is strikingly characteristic of the verse of that period; while some of the stanzas will compare with the best efforts of their author. The lines are placed in type from Mr. BARLOW's own manuscript. After invoking the spirit of the departed to preside over his pen, the writer proceeds:

Come, in the form that glare-ey'd spirits dress,

When death's dim veil hath shrouded all their pride,
While yon tall cloud but emulates thy face,
Where the lone moon-beam trembles through its side.


Come, on the gale that listening midnight heaves,
When freighted phantoms, bending with a bier,
Stalk through the mist, ascend the sounding graves,
And wake wild wonders in the startled ear!

The following stanzas succeed, and are immediately connected with, a description of the bereaved wife, and her blooming, fatherless children, scarcely conscious, as yet, of their great loss, and 'demanding their sire, with tears of artless innocence :'

So lonely Cynthia, on her evening throne,

And all her young-ey'd planetary train,
In languid lustre, seek their sire the sun,

Down the still chambers of the western main.

Yet that broad beamer from his nightly race,
With rising radiance shall the day restore;
Another spring renews fair nature's face,
years and
ages die to purchase more.


But thou, alas! no more on earth wilt tread,

Nor one short hour thy blest employments leave,
Though the sad knell that hail'd thee to the dead,
Had doom'd thy helpless country to her grave.

Thy country, whose still supplicating moan
Implores thy counsel with an infant cry,
And loads the same stern angel with a groan
Which bore thy kindling spirit to the sky.

The annexed lines will bring forcibly back to the present reader the spirit (not less

than the phraseology and pronunciation) of the time in which they were penned :

Wilt thou, in seats of blessedness above,

Where cares of empires claim the Eternal ear,
Among thy country's guardian seraphs prove
The hand to cherish and the heart to hear?

There, while the dread sublimity of soul

O'er all the star-ey'd heaven exalts thy throne,
While worlds beneath immeasurably roll,

And show the well known circuit of thy own;

Wilt thou remark the bluely-bending shore,

Where hills and champaigns stretch abroad their pride,
Where opening streams their lengthiest currents pour,
And heaps of heroes swell the crimson tide?

Wilt thou recognise that confused uproar,

Towns, curl'd in smoky columns, mounting high,
Mix'd with the clarion's desolating roar,
Rending and purpling all the nether sky?


Amid the tumult, wilt thou see afar,

Our laurell'd heroes striving for the day?
While clouds unfolding, ope the wings of war,
Where the grim legions sweep the foes away?

And while their deeds thy blest approvance claim,
While crowds of rival chiefs thy guidance share,
Behold that first, that finished heir of fame,
And be the best of heroes still thy care.

That hero, whose illuminating sword

Lights death and victory through the darkened field,
Bids realms and ages waken at his word,

Their sire, their soul, their saviour, and their shield.

A pressure of matter prevents farther extracts for the present number. We shall take another occasion to complete our quotations, many of which are not only striking records of the time, but possess poetical merit of a high order.


SUMMER IN THE LAP OF WINTER. When the streets are covered with snow, the rivers, with slow and solemn movement, rolling their tributes of ice to the main, and a howling tempest filling all the air, it is a pleasant thing for a man, while, 'to make use of a strong expression,'

'Cold are his feelings, cold the weather!'

to step into long ranges of hot-houses, where breathes the very breath of midsummer, and on every hand are blooming flowers, of a thousand hues. Let us advise the city denizen to pay a visit to the garden of that nature's nobleman, THOMAS HOGG, walk amidst his fruit-bearing orange and lemon trees, and his amphitheatric rows of japonicas, countless in variety, and fresh as the loveliest damsel in whose hair they may flourish, or in whose bouquet they may attract admiration, conversation, and perhaps beaux. In short, if the reader would see Summer dallying in Winter's lap, let him step up to HOGG's New-York Botanic Garden,' at the junction of Broadway and Twentyfirst street, and he may remark that agreeable phenomenon.

KKICKERBOCKERIANA: CORRESPONDENTS, ETC. There has been no month, since the establishment of this Magazine, in which so many names have been added to its list of subscribers, as during the period which has elapsed since the issue of our last number. For this most substantia! evidence of abundant public approbation, as well as for the testimony afforded in the almost uniform firm adherence of older readers, we shall let slip no endeavor to be practically grateful. Several correspondents, whose valuable favors reached us too late for insertion in the present number, will appear in our next. The Philosophy of Color,' Tableaux Vivantes, Down East,' with other communications, the reception of which has been privately acknowledged, are on file for insertion. In answer to an inquiry from several sources, we may state here, that the first and second Psalm of Life,' and the Psalm of Death,' in late numbers of the KNICKERBOCKER, are from the pen of Professor HENRY W. LONGFELLOW, of Harvard University, an old and regular correspondent of this Magazine, whom the reader will find frequent occasion to welcome in these pages. Brief notices of the following works, although in type, are unavoidably omitted: 'Address before the Philomathic Society of Alabama University,' HILL's Poems, JAMES' 'Tales of the Passions,' the Ohio Mouthly Chronicle,' and an Examination of the Difficulties between France and Mexico.'

*** THE continued absence of our theatrical correspondent, must constitute our apology for the omission of our usual dramatic notices. The performances, however, have for the most part been such as did not demand deliberate criticism, ou the score either of novelty or interest. The fine tragedy of 'Velasco,' by Eres SARGENT, ESQ., has been repeatedly brought forward at the Park Theatre. Its success, here and elsewhere, has been complete. It is pronounced, on all hands, an acting play of a high order. Of its rare literary merits, we have already spoken. Mr. BURTON, comedian, of the Philadelphia theatres, whose series of amusing papers, entitled 'An Actor's Alloquy,' and other articles contributed to the KNICKERBOCKER, have made him favorably known to our readers, has commenced a brief engagement at the National Theatre.

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